#a sofa with like 9 arms and 7 legs what does that mean. what fucking happens when that guy pulls the lever. WHAT DOES THE SOFA DO

[mxbitters]

got a cool card from my boss (idk i guess the majority of my coworkers end up giving out cards in each other’s mailboxes during the holiday, i uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh Have Not Done That even though i suppose i may?) with an edward gorey illustration and i was not acquainted with Any of his work so.  for  some reason or another i read the curious sofa which... was an experience !

#it's got some like.. major like rocky horror style of risque humor which is incredibly fascinating to see from a 1961 illustrated book #i didn't like the dog thing. but like. the fucking ending?!!! fucking COW TOOLS type shit. #a sofa with like 9 arms and 7 legs what does that mean. what fucking happens when that guy pulls the lever. WHAT DOES THE SOFA DO #tbh im mostly just mad short illustrated picture books for adults aren't a thing anymore. or like ok one could do that with zines but #like. come onnnnnnnn i like picture books idk

[ktheist]

CEO!JK + - prompt list - + #47 “You’re seriously like a man-child.”

“ooh, you wanna kiss me so bad.”

“you’re seriously like a man child.”

muses. ceo!jk 

genre. e2l / arranged marriage

word. 2.6k

warnings. implied smut

synopsis. your family legacy is falling into ruins. your father is on his deathbed and your mother and sisters have never worked a day in their lives. their only hope is the jeons - the family of the fiancé you abandoned.

x

it can’t be said that you know nothing of jeon jeongguk per se. for one, he was lightly nudged in your direction by his mother at the age of 6 because he’d been hiding behind her legs since the jeon’s arrived. clad in navy blue kindergarten uniform and gripping tightly onto the brown teddy bear he uncreatively called ‘teddy’, he’d stolen a glance at you for a split second and fixed his gaze to the ground.

“____, say hi to jeongguk, you’re going to be seeing each other often from now on,” your mother nudged you from behind, her voice awfully sweet in the presence of mrs. jeon and her extremely shy son.

you’d found out at 11 years old and him 13 years old, what ‘seeing each other often’ actually entailed.

“i don’t wanna marry you!” you’d screamed in his face when you were left alone by the adults.

“i don’t wanna marry a kid with snot running down her face 24/7 either.” jeongguk’s retort, though held no substance, still made you wipe your nose on your sleeve after you’d left him and locked yourself in your room.

at the age of 13 and him 15, you’d managed to escape the clutches of your family by proposing the idea of attending a prestigious boarding school in zurich where you’d spent most of your adolescent years skipping classes and crashing parties.

by 18, you wanted to laugh at your teachers’ relieved faces when your name was called to receive your diploma, marking the end of your great era in that school.

that was when your mother called you back to south korea, claiming that she’d missed her youngest so very much. but you’d continued to make excuses to stay in zurich, applying for a scholarship and getting into a local university there.

none of your friends knew anyone from home and you’d only passingly mentioned that ‘oh, i don’t talk to my family much’.

but just as you were finishing your degree, the news of your father in his death bed latched onto your limbs and had you hopping onto the first flight home.

“what do you mean? so we’re broke?” yuqi’s voice cut through the air like a knife. even her ray bans couldn’t hide her burning gaze.

to think you willingly walked into this mess of a family.

“yuqi, let dad speak,” miyeon glares.

minnie asks after a lapse of silence, “dad, what do you mean the company’s wounding up?”

your father, a man with greying hair and cheeks losing most of their fullness, stares at nothing but the ceiling, as if seeing the angels welcoming him.

“do you remember uncle jee?” even breathing seems difficult for a man that used to work out everyday at the private gym and always invited you to join in on his healthy lifestyle, “he transferred all the company’s assets to his name and fled the country. even his family doesn’t know-”

“oh, for heaven’s sake!” your mother cries, shooting up from the sofa farthest from the bed - you should have known something was wrong when a wife wasn’t waiting by her husband’s bed and took the seat that’s on the far end from her husband, “just admit that it’s your fault! you trusted him too much even though i warned you about him! you ruined this family!”

“i should’ve brought popcorns,” soyeon says from next to you, shooting you an unapologetic - heck, even entertained smile - when you craned your neck out of mild disbelief.

this family’s a little fucked up in the head.

but they call you the black sheep that got away.

“so what now? do we have to... work?” soojin asks, a horrified look spreading across her face.

those several inches nails aren’t made for work. that’s for sure.

“the jeons...,” he coughs, “jeongguk promised to help us rebuild the family business because my father - your grandfather, supported the jeons when they were starting out.”

all of a sudden, seven pairs of eyes turn to you as if you’re the rabbit in a cage full of wolves. the air turns chilly as if someone’s turned the ac to a minus degrees celcius.

“well, don’t look at me, i haven’t talked to him for 9 years,” despite your hands held up and your shoulders almost making your neck shrink into your body, all they see is a little gold piggy bank.

“what? what about the times when we talked on the phone? you sounded so close!” your mother’s source of rage shifts to you.

“well, i mean, he’s pretty active on instagram-” you couldn’t even properly finish your sentence when a hand lands on your shoulder and you’re staring into your reflection in yuqi’s ray bans.

“start talking,” her cherry lips curl as she holds out your phone that you don’t even notice she’s swiped out of your hand bag which, “hey, how did you-” you remembered was zipped shut.

x

“you got something to tell me?” the jeongguk before you wears a smirk that exudes confidence and billion dollar legacy backing him up.

no longer the shy kid that avoids the gaze of those he’s not used to and keeps his head hung low. if anything, his chin is looking too tilted for your liking. though you can’t say the same for the muscles that fill out his suit and wraps around his biceps a little too snug.

he’s finally foregone the side swiped bangs and grew it enough to have it tied back into a man bun, enhancing his sharp jawline and proving once and for all that puberty isn’t just for anyone.

the hesitant hum reverberates against your chest. you can only hope that it’s not audible for persons besides yourself, “you look great.”

his head drops as he chuckles but you can still see the way his jaw clenches, cutting off every humor that’s ever present before looking straight at you through his lashes, “can’t say the same for you.”

you resist the urge to shoot up, handle of your handbag tucked in the juncture between your arm and forearm and strut out of the restaurant without looking back.

“that rotten attitude of yours hasn’t changed i see,” allowing the smile to sneak up your face, you feel your nails digging into your palms underneath the table, rooting you back to your reason for being here.

“it’s the thinking you’re better than me for me,” he states, back leaning against the chair.

“oh, baby, i am better than you,” the words escape your lips as naturally as breathing does.

“i don’t know about that, i certainly wouldn’t bring an on-and-off boyfriend of mine to a restaurant where my potential clients usually go to,” there’s a gleam in his eyes.

but before you can dissect the meaning of his words, the sight of a familiar jet black haired man trudging from toward your table with a distorted expression and waiters hurrying after him from a few steps away - catches your attention.

“___! baby, i’m sorry!” if you look closer, you could see the tears welling up in his eyes when he spots you.

“eric,” the hiss under your breath is venomous, threatening, “what are you doing here?!”

“i’m here for you, baby. i realized you’re the only one for me,” he drops to his knees, pulling out a velvet red box from his pocket. the waiters that were chasing after him now freezing, looking at each other back and forth before eric proclaims his undying love and his desires to, “i don’t want to live a life without you- marry me, baby!”

“stop,” you say curtly, body involuntarily leaned forward to make sure your voice reaches him. the sight of a smirking jeongguk adds to oil to the flames growing inside of you, “stop it. you’re acting insane, right now.”

“...i promise, i’ll never cheat on you again...” eric goes on, tears freely streaming down his cheeks as his shoulders sag, “i even tattooed your name on my chest.”

the italic curls of your name is inked in black a few inches underneath his left collarbone, probably where his heart is supposed to be. but at the moment, all you can see is jeongguk’s leisure wine drinking, “oh my god, security. please, take this man away, he’s disrupting lunchtime.”

the two waiters seem to snap out of their initial trance, marching over to eric and gripping his arms with all their might before dragging him away at the manager’s instructions. it’s only then, do you notice the flash of camera from one of the tables on the farthest left side of the restaurant, its position allowing for a full view of your expression and possibly only a view of jeongguk’s back.

“you,” a whisper slips out of your mouth once you’ve assured the manager that everything was settled and you’d continue eating, “you planned this.”

“what an assertive deduction. i almost thought you would’ve missed it altogether,” he remarks, a look of pure awe spreading across his face.

“fuck you, jeon,” slamming your fist against the table, you slip out of your chair and march out of restaurant, fully aware of the eyes that follow you until you’re out of sight.

x

no word got out.

sns was oddly silent about the incident at the restaurant but your sisters know anyway. shuhua knocks on your door, fixing you one of her calming smiles before dropping the bomb.

“mother and elder sisters don’t know, i’m not gonna tell them but i think it’s better if you talk to jeongguk about it.” is what she suggests.

but she doesn’t know he was the one that orchestrated it, as if your life was a show and he was there for a good time. either way, to ease your sister’s heart, you make your way to jeongguk’s office.

he made you wait for a good two hours, having his assistant retell that he’s busy and can’t be disturbed at the moment. but once you’ve had enough, you barge into his room, nails digging into your palms at the lack of meeting partner and the man’s too casual appearance with his blazer draped over his recliner and his sleeves folded up till his elbow.

“i heard you were in a meeting,” you announce, making sure to glare at the secretary that stopped dead in her tracks when you managed to slip past her and through the door of jeongguk’s office.

“as you can see, i’m quite busy,” he nods, hands gesturing at the open mac in front of him.

“what are you playing at, jeon jeongguk?” a smacking sound echoes through the air as you slam your palms on his mahogany table, glaring down at him “because i swear to god, i will make sure you regret messing with me.”

but instead of the panic you hope to raise, a chuckle trickles out of his lips, “ooh, you wanna kiss me so bad.”

how the prettiest pairs of lips could smirk like that is beyond you. natural pink lips, curving deviously as his bunny lips peek innocently underneath. you don’t notice you were staring until his voice fills the silence, forcing you to tear your gaze away from those kissable lips and meet his gaze.

“you really do wanna kiss me,” there’s that gleam in his eyes - that of realization and something - something - you can’t pinpoint.

gone is the boy that used to tell you your pigtails are lopsided and proceeded to fix it for you - he made it worse but you didn’t really mind because it was the effort that counted.

but that was almost a decade ago.

“you’re seriously like a man child,” you shake your head, the initial reason of marching over to his office now shoved to the back of your mind. the last thing you want is to be in the same room with a man who seems to only be interested in making someone else’s life his own personal entertainment.

but before your fingers brush the metal handle of the double doors, another hand brushing on top of yours, feather-light fingers pleading for you not to walk out on him.

“i’m sorry,” he doesn’t sound like the jeon jeongguk you’ve come to know within the short span of time - like a man stripped off his cards and games, “i went too far.”

you don’t - can’t - say anything but your body isn’t exactly listening to your mind’s instructions to move out of his grasp. out of his presence.

“i didn’t know the reporter was there - i made sure he’s keeping his mouth shut after you left,” his breath is hot against your neck and his front brushes against your back but not really touching.

“why did you do it? why did you bring eric all the way here?” you pray to thank the stars for the strength in your voice despite the feeling that’s slowly disappearing from your knees.

“i found out  you guys broke up because he cheated.. i wanted to make sure he knew you were mine,” his clicks his tongue, “i didn’t know you dated such a psycho-”

your world spins for the briefest moment before you come face to face with a wide eyed jeongguk.

“first off, you don’t own me,” you announce, arms coming to cross over your chest in show of protest, “and second off,” the semblance of surprise and panic finally slips through his facade when your hands grip his collar, “kiss me.”

the last thing you remember is jeongguk nodding ever so slightly before his eyes flutter shut just miliscends before yours. you feel his arm band around your lower back, free hand digging into your hair and pulling you closer into the kiss. he tastes like mint and lemon candies that your nanny used to give you and you’d give it to him, saying something like “it’s my favorite candy but i like you so i’ll let you have one”. you don’t miss the small jar he keeps on the side of his desk full of those candies.

but the matter of this and getting married in order to save your family from falling into ruins are two different matters altogether.

and somewhere down the line, you find yourselves still arguing about the littlest of things.

“um, what do you mean that red roses aren’t romantic? it’s literally the symbol of undying love,” surprisingly enough, it’s jeongguk that’s fighting for the fiercer shade of the petal.

“you think fuchsia pink doesn’t symbolize love?” you roll your eyes.

then comes the time when your mother and magically healed father asking for a grandchild to which jeongguk grins, “we’re working on baby jeon.”

(you’re married and the petals themed in your wedding are both fuchsia and garnet)

“excuse me?” you turn to him, brows arching. that alone warrants a break of cold sweat on jeongguk’s forehead as he cautiously laughs.

“i mean, w-we’re not ready yet.”

rather, you’re not ready to forego your child-less phase in exchange for late night awakenings and learning cry-languages.

but you’re not exactly being careful either, what with the two of you finding the holes in time to slip away from your family and into your childhood room only for jeongguk to slam you against the wall and bend you over the vanity.

“jeongguk did you bring a condom?” you ask.

“i’ll pull out,” is all he says and you’re barely listening as you clasp your palms agaist your mouth, trying not to let out the moans pass through your lips.

when you go back to your family, jeongguk’s arm is around your waist and you both sit together as you joke and laugh with your sisters whilst jeongguk raises a glass to joining your dad at the gym.

x

note. hope yall enjoyed!

see drabble game! for how to request!

#bts smut #jungkook smut #bts fic #jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts x yn #jungkook x yn #jungkook scenarios #bts scenarios #jungkook scenario #bts scenario #bts fluff #bts angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook imagines #bts imagines #drabble game 1 #excerpt from a fic i'll never write

[meltwonu]

| 🍒 CH-CH-CHERRY BOMB! 🍒 |     [CHAPTER 9]

pairing; dom!seungcheol x camgirl!reader

this chapter’s notes; blowjob, dirty talk/mild degradation, sir!kink, name calling, fingering, v v v v mild impregnation kink,  filming/sex tapes, fucking in public, dom!seungcheol, uh oh is trouble is brewing in this chapter??? He h, , 😏, again thank you for your continued support! 🥺💕 and can I also say that not giving myself a chapter limit on this bad boy is really letting me ramble? LOL this was meant to be a short chapter and I cut it off right before the meaty bits(you’ll know where) but I was like no I'll give my readers a nice weekend gift instead of another cliffhanger 😌🍒 have a nice weekend bbys! ily!! 💕

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - ?

You wake up earlier than Seungcheol by 45 minutes; sleepy eyes sweeping across the quiet apartment.

The sound of his soft snoring lures you towards the sofa; softly tiptoeing your way over until you hover just above him.

“‘Cheol…” He sighs softly, adjusting from his side to his back as you grin. You round the sofa, swinging your leg gently until you can sit on top of his thighs.

Seungcheol grunts softly at this; blurry eyes blinking open until they focus on your figure. “Wuh--what?” His voice is much deeper and much more gravelly in the morning and it sends your body into overdrive, goosebumps rising on your skin when his hands immediately find purchase on your thighs. “What are you doing so early in the morning?”

“Nothin’~ Just thought I’d say thank you for last night, s’all…” You mumble.

“Lemme get my phone so I--”

“No!” A blush sweeps across your cheeks, hands peeling back the blanket that covers Seungcheol until his naked chest and boxer briefs are in view. “No, I--I don’t want to film this. I just want you to enjoy it... ” Whispering, your hands travel down his torso; admiring his toned body. “I think you deserve it after everything you’ve done for me.”

His cock throbs as he watches you, slow and unhurried in your movements when you palm him over his boxer briefs. “We have 45 minutes before you need to start getting ready for work~ Think of it as… morning exercise~” You giggle, squeezing his cock as he groans.

“Fuck, for who, exactly?”

You pout down at him, fingertips tugging his underwear down until his cock curves against his abdomen. “You can burn calories when you cum, y’know!” Seungcheol laughs breathily; sleepy eyes peering up at you as you wrap a delicate hand around his cock. “I mean, it’s not a lot but it’s still something~”

“Okay, okay, I’ll take your word for it.”

His morning voice has you biting your lip; pussy clenching around emptiness when you start to imagine how much deeper it could possibly get in the right scenario.

But for now, you focus on Seungcheol as you run your hand up and down his cock; palm wet with precum. “Is it weird to wake up with a boner in the morning?” Seungcheol sputters; a choked laugh on his lips.

“To be fair, it’s rather normal.”

“Huh… can’t imagine.”

It falls into comfortable silence, only the sounds of Seungcheol’s breathy moans in the otherwise quiet space.

You lick your lips, re-adjusting yourself until you’re kneeling between his legs instead. “Can’t be making a mess on your nice sofa, right?”

Seungcheol smirks down at you, resting his arms behind his head. “Better swallow it all, babygirl. If I even see a drop on the sofa, you know what happens, right?” His voice is eerily sweet and sends thrums of arousal down your spine.

“Yes, sir~”

He grits his teeth at ‘sir’; eyes fixated on your tongue when you start to softly lap at the precum that dribbles from the head of his cock. “God, this just makes me think of all the things I wanted to say to you last night.”

You peer up at him through your lashes, tongue tracing the vein on the underside of his cock. “Whaddya wanna say?” Your words are slurred together as you continue to lap at his cock; lips wrapping around his cock head as you swallow around him.

“Ngh, sh--shit, I--God, you were so fuckin’ cute taking my cock for the first time. And I wanted to praise you for takin’ me so well for the first time too. But I know I couldn't say that on camera.” He lets out a shaky breath when he feels you slowly start to take more of his cock into your mouth.

“You were so good for me, baby. So fuckin’ filthy when you fingered yourself with my cum...”

You moan around his cock which in turn sends goosebumps rising on his skin. “Fuck, I’m---I’m not gonna last long…” He warns; hips already thrusting up into your mouth as you continue to swallow around him. You pull off of his cock for a second, wrapping your hand around him again as you start to pump your hand up and down again.

“You can cum whenever you want~ And maybe next time just cum inside me too!” You pout.

Seungcheol nods just as you wrap your lips around him again; this time using your hand on the rest of his cock that doesn’t fit in your mouth.

His breaths get quicker and he feels his abdomen tightening by the second, only a choked noise as a warning before he’s cumming in your mouth.

You let out a surprised yelp as you immediately start swallowing the warm cum, hollowing your cheeks around him as you work him through his high.

He whispers your name a few seconds later and you pull off of him again, licking at your chapped lips. “Good?”

Seungcheol nods back, laughing lightly at your disheveled appearance.

“Good.”

“Hey hyung! Hey hyung!”

Seungcheol turns around, cheeks already aflame when he meets Jeongguk’s inquisitive stare. “Yes, ‘Guk?”

The younger male slides a candy bar across the concession stand’s counter top, eyebrows wiggling. “Say, do you need a cameraman?”

“What.”

Jeongguk lets out an exasperated sigh, “Y’know, someone to help… film. Get your good angles. You know what I mean?” He slides the candy bar further towards Seungcheol’s direction. “I’m your man, y’know? I got you, hyung.”

Seungcheol can only grimace in return, swiping the candy bar off of the counter top before he turns to leave. “I don’t think that’ll ever happen but on the offset chance it does, I’ll be sure to let you know. And for the record, one candy bar is not going to sway me.” Seungcheol laughs, shaking his head as he starts to walk away.

“Hey, wait!”

“Yeah?”

Jeongguk ushers him back; wrapping an arm around his shoulder as he leans in. “Me and a few of my buddies are going clubbing tomorrow night. It’s nothing major, just a few drinks after work but did you wanna come? You can bring your sweet babygirl with you.” He snickers, watching as the blush travels up to Seungcheol’s ears.

“I’ll see if she wants to come but I’m not promising anything, okay?”

“Hey man, a ‘maybe’ is good enough for me! Y’know, I specifically planned for Thursday ‘cause I knew you’d be busy on Friday, what with your new… career and all.”

The older male bites his lip; Jeongguk had no idea of the video. Yet.

“Uh, right. Anyways, I gotta go before Namjoon gets my ass for not cleaning the skates. I’ll talk to you later.”

Seungcheol makes it home in record speed; this time flinging the door open as he kicks his shoes off. “I’m back!”

Mild confusion crosses his features when he smells food cooking, shuffling into the kitchen as he sees your figure setting up plates of food. “I hope you don’t mind! I cracked open those cookbooks for dinner… Thought I’d try to be helpful around here!”

You shoot him a smile as you make your way into the living room where you set down the plates of food onto the coffee table. “Also… because we have to review this video before I can post it and I know how awkward that can be for the first time so I thought I’d soften the blow a little.”

“Guess that’s fair!” Seungcheol settles in next to you, a soft chuckle on his lips. “Hey, wanna hear something funny that happened at work today?”

“I’m scared, but sure!”

“Jeongguk offered to help us film.” You immediately choke on your food, setting down your plate as you try to catch your breath. “He--he w-what?” Seungcheol can only nod as he shovels another forkful into his mouth.

“Yeah, said somethin’ ‘bout getting my good angles ‘n stuff. Told him I don’t think we’d get that desperate for extra hands but that if we did, I’d let him know.”

This time you can’t stop the laughter that pours out of you; a soft blush on your cheeks. “Wow, I--I’m a little flattered, to be honest. Maybe once we’re more comfortable, we can enlist his help!”

Seungcheol’s eyes widen, panic clear in his eyes when he meets your cheery expression. “Wait, seriously? You wouldn’t mind him being here and filming for us? Wouldn’t that be weird?” Giggling in return, you pick up your plate again, picking at it as you stare back at Seungcheol.

“I mean, think about it, I’ve always filmed alone for the longest time until I met you. And now I’m getting to explore so many new things, also thanks to you. Having someone film for me… That---That just opens a lot of possibilities, is all. Obviously, neither of us are comfortable with it now but who knows, right? Maybe once we’re billionaires off of making sex tapes, we can afford a whole team of people~!”

“Wow, do I really sound like that?”

Seungcheol grimaces in embarrassment as he watches the video with you. “I told you it’d be embarrassing the first time!”

His shaky eyes focus back onto the screen, mouth agape as he watches his cock sinking into your pussy. “Fuck, I didn’t think it’d be this hot but… I’d be lying if I said this wasn’t the hottest thing I’ve ever seen… Not to toot my own horn or anything.” He mumbles.

“It’s okay to be proud of yourself, ‘Cheol! Confidence is a good thing and it takes a lot to film this kinda stuff anyway.”

You check to see how much of the video is left, noting it’s almost close to the end. “I think we did good and nothing’s out of place or too much. Is it okay with you to upload?” Seungcheol nods, “Seems good to me! I mean we cut off the beginning so it’s cleaned up, right?”

“Mmhmm!”

You start on uploading the video, biting the inside of your cheek as you slightly turn to face Seungcheol. “I don’t know what to title the video…” You mutter; sliding the laptop towards him as he furrows his brow in thought. His fingertips glide across the keyboard before he slides the laptop back in your direction.

‘daddy makes me take his big cock as punishment after i misbehave…’

“Don’t judge me, it’s just--s-similar titles I’ve seen before.” You laugh in response, getting back into uploading and adding various tags and a video description. “It’s what gets the people!”

“Speaking of people…” Seungcheol pauses, unsure. “Uh, feel free to say no but Jeongguk invited us out for drinks tomorrow night. Said it’s just a few of his friends. I told him I’d ask you but if you’re not comfortable, we don’t have to go.”

You contemplate your options, watching as the upload progress on the video goes up. “I mean… why not? I haven’t gone out for drinks in a loooong time, so it might be fun! We can always bail if it gets weird.”

Seungcheol nods as he gets up from the sofa, stretching. “Okay, I’ll come back after work to come get you and so I can get changed and then we’ll meet up with ‘Guk and his friends at the club.” The video finishes rendering and you quickly hit the ‘upload’ button before you smile up at Seungcheol.

“Sounds good!”

Thursday’s workday comes and goes quicker than Seungcheol thinks and he actually finds himself excited to go out for once.

“See you in a bit, Seungcheol-hyung!” Jeongguk waves him off from behind the concession stand, a bright smile on his lips. “Ah, yeah! I’ll meet you at the club! Don’t forget to turn off the slushie machine this time!”

He makes his way out to his car after he clocks out, humming as he goes. Sliding into the driver’s seat, he reaches for his phone as he turns the key to start the car.

“Hello?”

“Hey baby, just wanted to let you know I’m heading back. ‘Guk is off of work in about 30 minutes so don’t feel rushed to get ready.”

“Okay~ See you soon, ‘Cheol!”

“I’m home!”

“Welcome back!”

You meet Seungcheol at the door, already dressed in a short red dress and heels. “Well? How do I look?” You spin for him, showing off your outfit.

“Wow, that----that’s quite an outfit.” He exhales, “You look incredible.”

“Thanks! I’m actually pretty excited!” Seungcheol mimics your excitement as he crosses the space towards you, arm wrapped around your waist as he pulls you in close. “Mm, I’m excited too. Maybe if we’re lucky, we can see how well this dress looks on the floor too?”

“If we’re lucky~”

When you and Seungcheol get to the club, it’s somewhat empty in front.

“Seems about right for a Thursday, I guess.” Seungcheol offers, wrapping an arm around your waist again. “It’s kind of a dead part of town too, so this doesn’t surprise me.” He laughs, “Maybe we shouldn’t have gotten our hopes up.”

“Heyyyy, don’t be such a party pooper!”

The two of you turn to find Jeongguk with another male walking up the sidewalk. “Just ‘cause it’s a little empty doesn’t mean we can’t drink!” Seungcheol jokingly rolls his eyes as he tugs you in closer.

“You better watch yourself this time ‘cause you’re on your own. I didn’t drive and I’ve got this ‘lil lady to take care of.”

Jeongguk grins widely, shuffling closer towards the two of you. “Speaking of… Great video. Fuckin’ impeccable. I can’t believe hyung is packin’. Well, I can but whew, seeing it like that? Surprised you’re still walkin’ around.”

Oh, shit. The video!

You and Seungcheol share a panicked look; neither of you had even bothered to look at the video once it’d been uploaded, which meant that you had absolutely no idea how it was doing or what people were saying. “Ah, haha, ye--yeah! T--thanks for watching…” You mumble, suddenly shy.

Jeongguk wraps an arm around the unknown male’s shoulders, nodding in thought. “Had to give my support so you know I dropped a few bills in donations.” He tips his imaginary hat towards Seungcheol, winking. “Fantastic work, Seungcheol-hyung.”

“Shouldn’t we also be praising the lovely Cherry for her performance as well?” The unnamed male smiles widely, eyes forming crescents. “You’re pretty on camera but you’re just stunning in person.”

“I---uh, do I… Know you?”

Seungcheol’s eyes narrow slightly at the male, finding him somewhat familiar despite never meeting him before.

“Well, maybe? I’ve commented and donated a few times. My name’s Jimin. Or ‘j__min’ if that’s how you know me.” He adds a wink and a slight smirk, eyes twinkling when he focuses his attention towards Seungcheol. “And I have a feeling, I know who you are too. Although as far as I knew, the two of you had never met before. Correct me if I’m wrong?”

Seungcheol doesn’t immediately want to get hostile over nothing, so he untenses his jaw; eyes dancing over to you. “It’s.. a long story. And yes, your assumptions are right. But you can just call me Seungcheol.”

You and Jeongguk can feel the tenseness in the air as the four of you stand outside of the club and you share a look that screams ‘let’s change the subject’. “Oooookay, now that we’ll all introduced, let’s go drink!” 

“Hey, wait...” Seungcheol starts, “I thought you said a couple of friends? Where’s everyone else?” Jeongguk pouts, sighing. 

“They bailed. Said they didn’t wanna drink on a Thursday so it’s just the four of us!”Jeongguk all but drags Jimin towards the entrance, leaving you and Seungcheol alone.

“You okay, ‘Cheol?”

“I should be asking you that, baby.” He chuckles under his breath, shooting you a lopsided smile. “Guess this town is smaller than I thought.”

You laugh in return, wrapping your arms around his midsection as you tug him towards the entrance. “Hey, it’s okay! He doesn’t seem like a bad guy. Maybe a ‘lil sleazy but y’know.” The two of you share a laugh as you get through security; fingers linked together.

“If he tries anything, just let me know.” Nodding, you lead Seungcheol to a table that Jeongguk and Jimin are already sitting at, sliding into the seats across from them. “Holy fuck, you already got drinks?!” You exclaim, noting the glasses in their hands.

“Yeah! You guys walk so fuckin’ slow, I could’ve downed four drinks in the time it took you to get over here!” Jimin scoffs next to him, taking a sip of his own drink. “Didn’t Seungcheol say you’re on your own?”

“Won’t you take care of me?”

“No.”

You laugh at their exchange, leaning into Seungcheol. “Should we get some drinks too?” He nods, already getting up from his seat as he gestures for you to stay. “Stay here, I’ll get some for us.”

Seungcheol leaves to get the two of you something to drink, leaving you with Jeongguk and Jimin. “Hey, are you and hyung like… dating dating?”

A blush paints your cheeks even in the dimmed club lights and it only gets worse when you notice Jimin smirking at you. “Um, well, I--I wouldn’t say that but…” You trail off, unsure of what to say next. Were you dating? Or was it just physical?

“Hey, my offer still stands if you wanna film with me!” Jimin shouts over the music, shrugging. “Although, I don’t think your boyfriend would like it very much.”

“Boyfriend?” Seungcheol questions as he sits back down next to you. “Who?”

“You!” Jeongguk and Jimin both reply, laughing. Seungcheol hands you your drink before taking a sip of his own. He makes no comment; a little uneasy about the topic himself.

“Anyway, my offer still stands at being the cameraman. I’m really good at video editing too!”

You and Seungcheol have a few more drinks, delving into idle conversation with the other two before you decide you want to dance.

“Mind if I join you?” Jimin asks, eyes flitting towards Seungcheol. “If it’s okay?”

You and Seungcheol share a look, but he breaks eye contact to raise an eyebrow at Jimin. “It’s not my decision, I’m not her keeper.”

You turn to Jimin, a slight pout on your lips. “Just mind your hands, okay?” He nods, grinning as he leads you towards the dance floor.

Jeungguk takes the opportunity to replace you as he plops into the seat next to Seungcheol as soon as the two of you are out of sight, drink sloshing in his cup.

“You’re jealous.”

“What?” Seungcheol shoots the younger male an incredulous look right before taking a swig of his drink. “You’re drunk and sounding crazy.”

“Puhhhh---lease, hyung. You like her. Like, actually like her. Just admit it, we all know it!”

Seungcheol’s lips press into a firm line, eyes scanning the dancefloor until they fall on you and Jimin dancing together. “Okay, yes, I do like her.” He pauses, biting the inside of his cheek when he sees Jimin’s hands on your waist. “Now can we drop it?”

“No way! ‘Cause I know you’re jealous as fuck right now watching them dancing together which is why you can’t fuckin’ take your eyes off of them to even look at me!”

“How much you wanna bet your boy-toy is imagining ripping my head off right now?”

You roll your eyes at Jimin’s comment, swaying to the beat as he puts his hands on your waist. “C’mon, play with me a little here, doll.” He tugs you in closer, making sure to keep a reasonable distance at first. “He likes you a lot, y’know. I can feel the way he burns holes in my head wishing I wasn’t here. But the truth is, I love it.” His words have you confused, eyebrows furrowing as you hold his stare.

“What are you talking about, Jimin? Have you had too many to drink too?”

He laughs boisterously, pulling you into him as your chest meets his. “I love playing with people, just like how I’m playing with Seungcheol right now. I think it’s a fun little game, y’know? For example, in a few seconds he’s gonna march down here and take you right from my arms, fuck you nice and hard if you’re lucky and he’s pissed enough. Unfortunately, the two of you are easy books to read. You like being fucked hard and let’s be real, you love it messy. And Seungcheol, well, he’s practically in love with you and green is definitely not his colour.” Jimin ends in a wink, squeezing your ass once for good measure.

“Oopsies, here comes your loverboy now. Hey, call me if you ever need help, yeah? You know where to find me~” Jimin blows you a kiss right before you’re spinning to face Seungcheol who looks undeniably annoyed.

“Having fun I see.” He grins, eyes burning with lust as he wraps a hand around your wrist. “Wanna have some more?”

You can only gulp in return, nodding shakily as he drags you towards an empty hall.

The music gets more and more muffled the deeper he drags you into the club and you mentally curse yourself when you feel the wetness already pooling in your panties.

Seungcheol tugs you into a small private room meant for parties, locking the door behind him as he pushes you towards one of the sofas. “Guess we won’t be having that quiet night in, hmm?” He picks his phone out of his pocket, silently telling you to catch it as he throws it your way.

Your shaky hands open the camera app, pressing record and making sure to keep Seungcheol’s face out of frame when you lean against the back of the plush material.

“Jeez, babygirl, why do you like causing so much trouble for me, huh?”

“I’m s-sorry, sir, I just---I--”

“I take my eyes off of you for a few minutes and some guy already has his hands on your ass? Dirty slut.”

Seungcheol smirks when he sees your mouth opening in a silent moan, legs already spreading on their own as he makes his way towards you. You could feel the air shift; already knowing the mood he was trying to set. “Fuck, look at you. Already spreading your legs so I can fuck you. Just like a good ‘lil slut should.”

“Ye--yes, please si--sir, fuck me, please!”

He pries your legs apart even further, slotting himself between them as his hands slowly start to push the material of your dress higher and higher until it bunches up around your waist. “Soaking your panties already too? You’re so goddamn easy.”

From your view, the camera can’t see much. But at this point, you don’t even care. “Please, please…” You whine; already squirming underneath him.

Seungcheol undoes the button and zipper of his pants, tugging his underwear down with it as he wraps a hand around his already hard cock.

“Do I need to prep your tight ‘lil cunt or is it wet enough for me already?”

You shakily reach your free hand down, sliding your panties to the side before running your fingertips through the  wetness. “I’m--I’m wet enough, sir…” He pushes your hand away, grinning at you before he tears the material right off of your body.

“S--Sir!!”

Seungcheol laughs under his breath, tapping the head of his cock against your clit a few times before he drags it through your wetness and positions himself at your entrance. He gives you a second before he starts sinking his cock in, this time bottoming out in a single thrust when he meets no resistance. “Fuck, you really are soaking, you little slut.” You let out a garbled moan, barely remembering the phone in your hand as Seungcheol starts thrusting into you at a moderate pace.

You keep your legs spread to the best of your ability, soft whines spilling from your lips when the head of his cock grazes your cervix. “God, sir, you’re s-so fucking big, it--I’m so fuh--full…!” He leans in, plucking the phone from your hands as he turns the camera to face you instead.

“Look at her. My perfect ‘lil slut taking my cock so well. Don’t you think I should give her more?” His eyes twinkle with mischief as he brings his free hand towards his lips; licking the digits until they’re well coated in his saliva. “Do you think you deserve my fingers too? Or is that ‘lil cunt of yours too full?”

“N-no, please I--I want your fingers too, god, I--I want them in my pussy with y-your cock!”

Seungcheol doesn’t say another word; instead, he angles the camera right up to your pussy as he brings his wet digits closer, pausing his thrusts as he slowly sinks in a finger next to his cock. “Oh---oh fuck, yes!” You scream, clenching around his cock and finger. He clenches his jaw, because as much as he’d to sink more of his fingers into you, he knew that you still had to get used to the feeling at first.

And it takes a few tense moments and harsh breaths before Seungcheol resumes his pace. “Pleeeese~” You whine, tears blurring your vision when you look up at him and he makes sure to catch it on camera.

“Please what, baby?”

“P--please, put more of your fingers…”

He takes this as a sign that you’re okay; sinking in another digit as you let out a choked moan. “Oh my god, oh my g-god…! Ngh, h-hah, ‘m so f--full, it feels so good~” You sob. Seungcheol’s throat feels dry as he watches through the phone screen how your pussy looks impossibly stretched around his cock and fingers.

“Look at her tight cunt. Fuck, I can’t even fit another finger in her pussy... Surely, this is enough for you to cum though, hmm?” He quips, thrusting into you until your words become a jumbled mix of sounds.

“Guess I fucked her stupid too, huh?”

He keeps his fingers parallel to his cock, sinking them deeper and deeper until he’s knuckle deep. “Fuck, I can feel you getting tight around me. Go ahead and cum, slut.”

It only takes a few more thrusts before you do cum; walls fluttering around Seungcheol as he fucks you through your orgasm. Your mouth can only open in a silent scream, toes curling in your heels when your mind goes blank as the pleasure washes over you. You feel your body buzzing, fingers going numb at the way Seungcheol keeps slamming into your cervix.

Seungcheol grits his teeth, doubling his pace in the midst of your orgasm. “Her pussy keeps sucking me in… Guess she wants me to cum inside her too?”

“Mmh… sir, p--please cum inside me…” You mumble, already slowly starting to come down from your high. “Want you to fill me up this time…”

And this time, Seungcheol does; grinding against you as he finally cums too. “Fuck, take all of it, baby!” He growls, fucking his cum deeper into you as he rides out his high. His head feels fuzzy; both off of the alcohol and adrenaline coursing through his veins.

“Mmh, ‘m so full of y-your cock and c-cum, sir…”

A shudder rolls down Seungcheol’s body when he starts to come down from his high; slowly easing his fingers out of you before he pulls out completely.

He brings his phone down to your pussy, filming the cum that trickles down to the sofa underneath you.

“Look at her pussy full of my cum. D’you think it’s enough to get her pregnant?” The words spill out of Seungcheol’s mouth quicker than he can think and you let out a shaky breath at his words, unintentionally pushing his cum out as he continues to film. “Or should I keep cumming in her and filling her up? Fuck my cum deeper into her pussy so I know she’ll get nice and pregnant.” He ends in a chuckle as he pans the camera up to your face; catching the way you bite your lip and the way your eyes glaze over in complete lust despite how tired you were.

“What do you think, babygirl?”

“I---I think… I think s-sir needs to---to keep filling me up with his c-cum…”

“Right answer, babygirl.”

#cherrybomb!cheol #seungcheol smut #scoups smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #seungcheol scenarios #seungcheol imagines #scoups imagines #scoups scenarios #svt scenarios #svt imagines #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #scoups

[princessmariaphiliper]

THE SLEEPOVER FIC | Part 8 The Sleepover

Notes: James Acaster, No warnings babes xoxo

Pairing: James Acaster x Reader 

Genre: Fluff, Slight Angst, Slow Burn fic

Words: 2,739

Summary: You and James have put yourselves into trouble, but you think maybe it’s hotter that way. 

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9

You and James had been laying together for quite some time now. Dwelling in your act of sin. Guilt pumped through your blood, clouding your mind. But for the most part all you could feel were Jame’s arms wrapped around you. Your stomach a mix between dread and delight, two complex emotions rising and falling at once. There was so much to say, yet you chose to keep your silence in the now darkened evening. The sun having set long ago. 

You’d both gotten dressed once again and cleaned up yourself in an attempt to regain some dignity. James ran a thumb across your shoulder as the Tv droned on, the backdrop to your shallow breaths. He cleared his throat, your head bobbing up from his chest. You thought he might speak. However after looking longingly into your eyes he opted for a kiss instead. Unlike the previous kisses of the night this one felt sincere and somewhat shy. The kind of kiss that you would give at the altar. A performative innocence fit for a virgin. Perhaps this was all the two of you could manage to muster as you drifted gently to sleep. 

You awoke at what you presumed to be the early hours of the morning with James checking his phone. Noticing you stir, he whispered tenderly into the dark. 

“Sorry, did I wake you?”

“A little, what time is it?”

“Three thirty seven.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah,” James pulled himself up onto his elbows, you rolled off of his chest body going cold from the lack of his radiation. “Sorry I didn’t mean to fall asleep, I’ll get going.”

The pit of your stomach sank, not liking the idea at all. Your mouth began to speak before your brain could register your words. 

“You can stay if you like, I just opened a new toothbrush packet. I wouldn’t want you getting on the tube so late.” 

James seemed slightly stunned by the prospect, body stiffening beside you. Your breath hitched, unable to see his expressions fully in the dark. You feared you might have said too much. 

“Are you sure?” James worried.

“If you like, I don’t mind,” 

“Okay.” He waited a while before beginning to stand, you stirred also, stretching to turn on the lap beside your sofa. You winced your eyes before the bright strobe flushed through the room. 

“Ah fuck,” James mumbled under his breath, covering his eyes with his palms. Although you could see through your own adjusting that the corner of his mouth was twisted in a smile. 

“Sorry,” 

“No you’re not, that was purposeful.”

“Maybe.” You smiled as James turned around to face you. Standing slowly. Thighs tender from their extensive use earlier in the night. Sleep commanded its way through you, eyes stinging from the time of day, you yawned loudly with a stretch. 

“Can I use your shower tomorrow? I’m a sweaty boy.”

“Yeah that's fine. I have to be at the studio early so do you want me to wake you up or..?” 

“Yeah please. I’m recording a podcast with Ed tomorrow morning.” 

Oh god Ed. Criminality washing over you again as you began to make your way over to your bedroom. James hot on your heels. Ed could never know that you’d slept with James. You knew it would cause far too much complication in an already complex situation. You threw yourself under your covers as James climbed in timidly beside you. As though he wasn’t sure it was okay for him to join. You watched him as he lay down, falling on his side to face you. You smiled over at him which he returned before planting a light kiss upon the tip of your nose. Shutting his eyes. 

Deciding it would be better to consider such trivial things about your actions come morning, you cosied up to James. His arm falling naturally around you as you came closer. You faded into a dream for the second time that evening. 

Seven AM your alarm began to blare out into the morning dew. Your mind registered the noise on autopilot. Fingers crawling underneath your pillow to silence the drone. For a few minutes you lay in the glow, not wanting to rise just yet. You loved mornings like these in London. Where the city was just beginning to sturr. Where you could dream up a new life for yourself before your snooze alarm kicked in. 

Before this could happen however, a stirring of movement beside you pulled you out of dreamland. An arm twitched awake to your shock bringing you back down to earth. Remembering the events of the night previous. You opened your eyes with difficulty, sleep having crystallised in the corners, meeting the side profile of James waking up too. 

You lay there for some time, taking in the silence as a blessing before your busy day ahead. The arm underneath your pillow felt numb and heavy. After a moment though you knew that you had to get ready, gently prodding James’s arm you spoke croakily. 

“James.”

“Hmm?”

“It seven,”

“Okay.” James mumbled huskily in his morning voice. Sending a little tingle down your spine. He sat up slowly, all the time his eyes closed. Seemingly not wanting to adjust to the morning light. You dragged yourself up and began to get dressed timidly. Somewhat shying away in case James could see your body. 

Everything felt a little strange. 

Here the two of you were waking up in the same bed as though you had been a couple for years, yet you’d only met him a week prior. You felt comfortable enough to change your shirt, but you opted to change your pants while he was showering.

“Um,” He said tiredly “Am I still okay to…” 

Presuming he was talking about getting cleaned up, you nodded. He stood groggily, making his way over to the bathroom upon approval. As he moved you noticed he was still wearing his shorts and t-shirt from yesterday. 

It was nowhere near as hot as the day prior and you considered that shorts might not be the most appropriate attire for work. Somehow feeling guilty about it you decided to search for something in your wardrobe he could wear. 

Once he had left the room you pulled on some new underwear and leggings. Making your way over to your wardrobe you delved into the back. Recalling a pair of trousers you’d bought for your ex’s birthday a few years prior, you started to dig through piles of old clothes. You weren't the sentimental type of person. You hadn’t kept such items to keep the memory of him alive in your life. It was simply that you’d broken up a few months before Christmas, and having bought the gifts early you decided to keep them. Considering they might be useful for any projects you might be involved with in the future. In addition to this it was far past the return date when the two of you broke it off. 

You pulled out the pair of plum coloured slacks, contemplating for a long while if it would be strange to offer them for James to wear. His voice booming into the room once again. 

“Y/n.”

“Yeah?” You rose from your crouched position, following his voice. 

“How do you work your shower?” 

You chuckled, feeling for him you headed towards the bathroom. Knocking timidly on the door. 

“Can I come in?” 

“Yeah one second.”

“Are you decent?” 

“Sure,”

You pushed open the door, peaking your head inside the shower spat out incohesively into the drain. James stood a few steps away from the door in nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist, hair slightly damp. You glanced over at him, noticing the small hickies dotted across his neck from last night. Making you bush. You made a note to check yourself once over in the mirror for the same.

“I can’t get it to heat up, sorry” He flustered, causing you to smile kindly at him. 

“It’s okay it does this sometimes,” 

Stemming into the room you placed the trousers on the sink for him later. You snaked your arm around the water reaching the faucet. As all showers, it was a rather simple design once you knew how to use it. But you couldn’t blame James, showering at other peoples houses was always a stressful business. You turned it towards yourself. Waiting a minute for the water to run hot. 

“Just turn it right when you’re done and it’ll shut off, make sure you get out first though because it goes freezing if you don't do it fast enough.” You offered.

“Sure,”

“Oh erm,” You hesitated, “I got those out for you, I don’t know if they’re your size but I figured you wouldn’t want to put on dirty clothes.”

Pointing at the slacks James’s eyes followed your finger to the sink. A warm beam crossed his face before he uttered a ‘thank you’. You left him to clean up while you made some food and a drink for each of you. 

“James.” You called out as the kettle boiled. The shower had finished a short while ago, causing you to assume he was close to being ready. 

“Yes chef.”

He came into the kitchen, towelling his hair with one hand to dry it off. He looked kind of sexy like that. Dressed in the pants you’d given him. Forearm in an L shape defining the muscle under his skin. You stared for a moment, studying his features, you wished you knew what he was thinking. 

“Tea or coffee?” You asked remembering you had to speak for a conversation to happen. 

“I’d love a coffee, do you have decaf?” 

“I think so” 

You had an inkling that you had a couple of mini sachets somewhere in your cupboard. You dug through as James leant his body against your kitchen worktop. Arm finally dropping down to let his hair air dry.

“Y/n.” 

“James.” 

There was a pause in the air where you thought he might begin to voice an internal dialogue. You didn’t look at him, forcing yourself to search busily for the coffee that you’d already found. James didn’t say anything either. For the longest time you both stood around in silence until the toaster popped to break it. 

“Ah,” You mumbled, “Here it is!” 

You mixed the drinks, opting to pour them into travel mugs as it was already getting quite late. You didn’t know when James had to be at work, but you knew that if you didn’t leave soon the tube would be horrific. Handing the decaf to him you grabbed your slice of toast, James coming closer to grab his own. Noticing it was slightly burnt you turned to him deflated. 

“Shit sorry, I’ll make you some more if you like,”

“Oh no its okay, I quite like it burnt.”

“Are you sure” You pulled a face at him, but he was smiling at you. Body a couple of inches away. You could smell your own shampoo and body wash on him, having muted the scents of last night. Becoming aware of the fact you hadn’t showered since, you had quite an intensive class today that you knew would have you leaving the studio in buckets. He didn’t know that though. You hoped to god he didn’t think you were gross. 

“I’m just happy I’ve been fed.” James warmed. Coming away from you now. He headed over to your fridge, opening it up and studying the contents. He pulled out the butter and some honey, making his way back towards you and the toaster. Quietly he whistled as he began to butter both slices of toast, one for each of you. Coating them with honey afterwards. It was refreshing to watch him perform such a mundane task. With a heavy heart you sighed. Blue from the gut wrenching feeling that your sleepover was short lived. You couldn’t shake the feeling that everything was far too complicated. 

James presented you with your slice, holding it up to your mouth to take a bite. You accepted with a sad smile. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” You brushed off, “Shall we get going?”

An air surrounded you and James as you swiped your oyster cards entering the station. The two of you had made casual chit chat, both dancing around what the two of you were desperate to be said. Somehow the conversation has moulded your plans for the rest of the week. You hadn’t anything special, you thought maybe Ed would be coming to visit at some point. Stepping onto the escalator one after the other you waited with the crowd. 

“Ah,”

“Single life,” You joked 

“Must be nice.” James said with a hint of sadness in his voice. Making you feel a mixture of guilt and tenderness. He noticed the pause in conversation, turning to you with a panicked look in his eyes. “Sorry, I don't know why I said that!”

“It’s okay?”

“No it’s not,” He fretted “I don’t want you to get a bad image of me-”

“I won’t James.” 

“I,” James started, pausing for a moment to consider his words. “So what now?” 

“I’m not just some rebound to help you flesh out a narrative James.” 

“I don’t want you to be.” 

“We don’t know each other that well,”

You both stepped onto the escalator, James behind you. He wrapped his arms around your shoulders, speaking into your hair.

“I’d like to get to know you,” 

He stated, looking into your eyes with full transparency making your humble heart skip a beat. You pondered the idea for a moment, his chin sitting atop of your head. You could feel his heart beating quickly against his back, indicating that he was feeling almost as heightened as you at the minute. You looked down, noticing that you had a long while before the two of you reached the bottom, you turned around to face James. His face pulled back as you did so.

“Well,” You began, “I just want you to know, if you fuck me about James I wont be able to forgive you. I’ve spent far too many years fighting for people that only gave half of a shit about me and I’m done with that. But I’m willing to try something if you are, honestly, I think you’re an amazing guy and I love spending time with you. But, I’m not going to sit around and wait for you to realise that you just wanted an excuse to leave her, and along the way you found me. I won’t put myself through that.”

A weight lifting from your chest, James contemplated your statement for a moment. Eyes darting across your face.

“Can I be honest?”

“I’d prefer it,”

“I’m not going to pretend like I didn’t initially just find you attractive. But the longer time we’ve spent together. I just can’t stop thinking about you. I’ve not - stopped thinking about you since we met. I know it hasn’t been that long and that terrifies me too. But I’m not going to let you walk out of my life without trying to get to know you more. Because you feel like home in a way I can’t describe” James smiled at you, taking your hand in his. “I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life Y/n. I can’t even think about how anyone else ever made me feel. So no, you can’t ever be ‘just a rebound’ ”

You blinked up at him through your lashes, a tenderness forming inside of you. His words had taken you by surprise. He let go of your hand, taking your silence in embarrassment. You turned around, close to reaching the end of the elevator.

“I’d like to know you better too James.” You said in almost a whisper. “But, if we do this.”

“Yeah,”

The two of two walked to your platform. Contemplating your words, you took his hand one more time, determined to keep them glued together from now.

“We can’t let Ed know anything. I refuse to be seen as a mistress by anyone, let alone him. Once you’ve officially broken it off with…”

“Sarah.” Adding a name to the imaginary face did not help the guilt you discovered.

“Then we can, you know, start to go on dates with him knowing.”

“I think that’s probably for the best.”

Taglist josies-polestar queensantiagoofthe99 laurabeech olithephangirl @rilannon

If you want to be put on, or taken off my taglist, feel free to tell me!

#james acaster x reader #james acaster imagines #james acaster fanfic

[i8jisoo]

victon reaction to going to them to cuddle 🥺

𝐕𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐍 ⇉ victon & a cuddly s/o

victon x reader | reaction

↬ genre; fluff 

↬ warnings; cursing but we super cute

↬ notes; this was cute but i was so backed up lmfao so we doin’ it

seungwoo

okay starting off he’s a tall one, so since i usually picture everyone my height which is 4′9, your cuddles might start off with you climbing on him like a child and a mother. if you’re as tall as him or just the average, he still doesn’t give a shit, he will carry you and he’ll take you over to either the couch or the bed and he’ll set you down first before settling behind you. he’ll snuggle up to your neck, his arms around your shoulders, he’ll practically be choking you deadass. 

i don’t see him doing this around people though, i think he likes to be secretive and discreet about this. when it’s just you to, the cuddliest most teddy-bear like guy ever. the small cuddle time turns into hours and you two will end up falling asleep wherever y’all are at. snuggle on the couch, your head is on his chest and his feet aren’t even on the sofa.

“alright, up you go.” seungwoo sighed, pulling you up and pulling your legs around his waist while he takes you to the couch to come cuddle you. 

seungsik

i see him always being really tired when he asks for a cuddle, but he wants one instantly and will not take no for an answer. seungsik definitely will go to you more for a cuddle, but when you come to him, he is so happy. seungsik is definitely this leader who is great and strong to everyone, but in his home — he is the one to be babied. seungsik is baby let’s be honest, he will always be the one scooped up in your arms.

he had a bad day? cuddle. you had a bad day? cuddle. feeling cold? cuddle. it’s hot as hell outside? cuddle. anything and everything will have cuddles involved. you two will just sit at first and then by the end of the night will find him in your arms, snoring with his head against your tummy and his arms around your waist. he also scares the fuck out of you when he’ll sleep walk or talk in his sleep, you’re deadass jumping at the movement or sounds.

“come here, baby.” you say softly, your arms wide and seungsik walks over. you’ll take him in, sitting on the couch as you do so and rolling back with him. you two will lay there for hours while you play with his hair or watch a show.

heo-chan

another big baby, chan will come to you or you come to him and you two will wobble until you’re on the bed. he is abnormally soft and loves to just tangle your legs up and lay there. he’ll probably have his arms around you most of the time, his fingers laced with yours and his head against the pillow with you on top of him.

100% you always get up and straddle him, only to tickle him and have a giggly chan begging for you to stop. this boy can talk, he isn’t shy with you and he just talks and talks. he will make you cuddle a lot and need extra ones when he has a bad day. chan is pouty and will let you hold him while he rants and talks to you, he might just cry.

you two had just got back from chan’s check-up at the doctor, the boy devastated at the fact he had to get a vaccine. “i do not like you right now.” he just hmph’ed, crossing his arms. “come here baby, i know you want to.” you open your arms, chan doing a double take before accepting and letting you take him to the comfort of his bed to cuddle him. you gave him a kiss on his band-aid on his arm, rubbing his back.

sejun

he will probably have a bowl of whatever snack on ur back, turning on a movie or show as you sleep soundly and unknowingly have a bowl of food resting atop you. he will sometimes see how much shit he can put on top of you, then to have you wake up and everything tumble down or he’ll scare you when he shouts for you to stay still.

if he isn’t eating — poke, poke, poke — sejun is annoying you as you try to cuddle. he will be going after you when you pull up and off of him, leaving him alone on the couch so you can close your eyes and rest. 9/10 times he will pull your arm back and make you fall so then he’ll feel super shitty but that just means more cuddles so it’s alright. sejun is here to kiss your boo-boo’s.

“y/n! no! don’t go!!!” he shouts, watching you rush down the hallway and into the room. he’ll slide down the hallway in his socks and open the door, practically jumping on top of you and into the bed. “go away..” you murmur tiredly, yawning. he cuddles into you and holds onto you like a sloth hold, giving you the most comfortable sleep of all time. “goodnight y/n.”

hanse

laying in his room is not good, you will probably 7/10 times be laying on a shit-ton of clothes that he doesn’t pick up. i feel like he’s a human heater, you just cuddle up to him and he’s warming you up instantly, no blankets needed. you also have to remind him to take off his glasses or contacts before cuddling, y’all fall asleep often so you don’t want him to break his glasses or accidentally irritate his eyes. 

you guys might lay in bed and paint his nails or do his hair, it doesn’t matter to him. he likes doing these things. you will break his arm to paint his nails, the next week he’ll switch to another color. there is always music playing, blasting and making subin very annoyed!!!! 

“that hurts, ow!!” hanse whines, your hand turning his arm in a direction it obviously does not go in. “shh! stop moving, you’re gonna make me mess them up!” you tell him to suck it up of course, your back to his chest and you lay on top of him with his arm stuck in the air and turned so you could paint them.

byungchan

he’s tall, he’s y’know.. he’s a giant. that doesn’t stop him from being your very small baby though, he loves to feel babied. he’ll want to cuddle into your neck and wrap his arms around your waist, his body on top of yours and his body definitely weighing on you. occasionally he will be humming a girl group song or he’ll be mumbling the lyrics to one, earning him a glare from you to be quiet while you were trying to watch the screen on your phone. 

he loves cuddling. he will come home just to cuddle matter of fact, he’ll drop anything and everything to lay there in your arms and just snuggle into you. he’s sad when you leave for work or aren’t there when he’s back, he guesses the trace of your shampoo on the pillow case will have to work.

“where are you!” byungchan calls out, dropping his bag for practice on the floor and his shoes are kicked off as soon as he walks through the door. “i’m watching a movie, go away!” you yelled, byungchan knowing instantly you were in the bedroom and doing a sprint towards there. he practically jumps on you and into the bed, clinging to you like a baby on a mother’s hip. you groan, “no talking, i’m trying to watch.” you mumble, soon enough hearing his soft breathing and feeling it on your neck as he relaxes.

subin

he is a baby himself but in the dorms you and his small furry babies are his own. toto, mimi, and jaws will lay next to you guys or underneath the covers with y’all. he’ll wiggle around before finding a comfortable spot and sticking with it. if you fuck up his bed for perfect cuddling, he will fuck you up. his bed is clear and perfect for only you, if anybody else fucks it up before he comes back and it’s not in perfect condition, he will hunt them down. 

short baby will drown in large clothes, but you are smaller so you two are both equally drowning in clothes. he will watch a movie while texting the boys or texting somebody, all screens are on but don’t worry, he hasn’t forgotten about his little baby that’s in his arms.

“subin!!! subiiinnn!!!!!” you say loudly, muffled by the large hoodie draped over him. he’s focused on the messages on his screen, his fingers probably burned at his rapid typing. you pull at his phone, “whaaaattt!!!” he mocks, looking at you to see what you wanted. “toto just peed on the floor, dummy!” sure enough, you’re right. there is a puddle and toto will be sitting next to it, proud and unbothered by the accident on the floor. “toto no!!” he whines, pushing you off and having to clean up the mess with a pout.

©️ maysdiors 2020 :: all rights reserved. do not repost my work on tumblr or other platforms.

#victon #victon x reader #subin #byungchan #hanse #do hanse #sejun #heochan #seungsik #seungwoo #subin victon #byungchan victon #hanse victon #sejun viction #heochan victon #seungsik viction #seungwoo victon #subin x reader #byungchan x reader #hanse x reader #sejun x reader #heochan x reader #seungsik x reader #seungwoo x reader #victon reactions #victon scenarios #idol x reader

[goodomensblog]

Afterward - Part 18

A Good Omens Choose Your Own Adventure Fic

Here’s how it works:

I’ll write a scene.

At the end of each scene, you’ll be presented with 2-3 options for what the characters will choose to do next.

Comment or reblog to vote for your choice. I’ll count all votes after the first 24 hours after each update is posted.

Read: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13, part 14, part 15, part 16, part 17

(#3 wins! Once again, we’re going with the most chaotic option and I am here for it)

Afterward - - - Part 18

- - - - - - - - - - -

It is late, and the streets of London are quiet and tired when the Bentley growls into the barren parking lot. Overhead, garish yellow arches glow, a lackluster flickering beacon in the darkness.

Aziraphale glances up - and then back at the restaurant, and heaves a long, deep sigh. “Oh dear.”

“Oh fuck yes,” Beelzebub crows, sitting up.

“McDonald’s,” Gabriel says, voice flat with disinterest. “Is that one of yours...?”

“Oh yeah, yep,” Crowley answers, steering them into the drive through. The giant, back-lit menu bathes the passengers of the car in a dull, white glow.

By the time Crowley remembers to roll down the window, the speaker is crackling and hissing and a tired voice is saying, “-your order. Would you like to try our new Triple Grand Big Mac? It comes with triple the bacon and triple the cheese.”

“Just uh, give us a sec please,” Crowley says, and looks to Aziraphale first. “Angel, what do you-”

“I want the new Triple Grand Big Mac!” Beelzebub says, leaning over the front seat. Dark blood is still dripping down the side of their face, and Crowley recoils as it splatters on the car’s dark leather.

“Watch it with the blood!”

Shifting to see around Beelzebub, Aziraphale sighs and hums, fidgeting as he looks at the menu. “Well...perhaps the wrap? Hm...no. No. Never mind.”

Crowley feels hot breath horrifyingly near to the base of his neck, and glances back to see Gabriel’s awful face pressing up on his right, attempting to peer out the driver’s side window.

“What the hell, Gabriel!” Crowley snarls, jerking back - only to bump into Beelzebub, who is still very much leaking blood. “Oh, come on - gross.”

“What is...a McFlurry?” Gabriel asks ponderously from Crowley’s right, as Beelzebub shouts, “And I want one hundred chicken nuggets!”

“Listen,” Crowley replies, grimacing as he wipes blood off his shoulder, “they’re not gonna be able to make a hundred chicken nuggets. It’ll take too long-”

“Perhaps...the veggie dippers?” Aziraphale mutters and shudders. “Though maybe it would be best if-”

“Um - excuse me?” The voice from the speaker crackles. “Do you, uh, need help, sir?”

“No, no - we’re-”

“Yes,” Gabriel says, interrupting. “Listen. My body is a temple, and I will only soil it with the purest nutriments. Do you understand?”

From the speaker, comes a long, buzzing silence.

“So you’re um...like a vegan?”

“Veeegan,” Gabriel says, sounding it out.

“Oh my God,” Crowley groans, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I want fifty cheeseburger Happy Meals,” Beelzebub demands, leaning over Crowley. “And don’t you dare leave out the toys!”

“Sorry? You want fifty-”

“Do you think they could make me a deconstructed burger?” Aziraphale muses.

“If I am going to debase myself with food, it must be organic, sugar free, have no preservatives, be keto friendly-”

“And give me forty-five ice cream cones - with the flakes!”

“Excuse me - what?!”

“-of course no trans fats, no GMOs, no partially hydrogenated soybean oil-”

“...perhaps I could request they leave off the pickles. The acidity really does tend to bring down the entire flavor profile-”

“-and seventy no - eighty hash browns! I want them double fried, no triple-”

“That is….ENOUGH!” Crowley shouts, laying his hand on the horn; and finally, the car’s passengers go completely and mercifully silent.

“...sir?” The voice from the speaker squeaks out, hesitant.

“Yeah, sorry about all that. I’m ready now.”

Ten minutes later, the Bentley rolls out of the drive through.

Aziraphale sits, lips pursed, with a salad in his lap and a large milkshake balanced between his knees. Beelzebub is slouched with several greasy boxes of nuggets between their legs and an ice cream cone in each fist. Beside them, Gabriel sits, lips curling in disgust as he peers suspiciously at the baggies of baby carrots scattered over his lap. 

Crowley, black coffee in hand and a small, greasy bag of fries set beside him, takes a long, slow sip of the drink. He clears his throat, and says with a measure of defeat, “Okay, yeah, fine - I’ll pop over to the store later to get us some better food.”

“Oh thank Heavens,” Aziraphale sighs; giving Crowley a conciliatory smile, he takes a dainty sip of his shake.

By the time they pull up in front of the bookshop, the car is littered with fast food wrappers, and Crowley sits in his seat, glaring, until quick hands snatch up the trash. 

“Thank you,” he mutters, and shoves open the door.

So eager is Crowley to return to the well worn sofas and sleepy warmth of Aziraphale’s bookshop, that he doesn’t even consider the possibility of enemies or traps until his hand is on the door. 

Fingers twisting around door handles, he halts. Aziraphale bumps into his back with a muffled noise of shock.

“Crowley-?” Aziraphale asks, pressing a warm, steady hand against his back.

Lowering his glasses, Crowley shifts to the side and takes a long, scrutinizing look through the dim windows. 

It’s unlikely that Entropy would know to find them here. But...they’d underestimated the void creature before - and they were in no shape to fight their way out of a trap. 

“Wait here,” Crowley says, glancing back at Aziraphale. “I’m gonna check it out. Make sure no one’s lying in wait.”

“Not by yourself, you’re not!” Aziraphale protests, reaching for his arm.

Crowley turns a considering look at the company crowding his back.

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

Before they can retreat into the safety of Aziraphale’s bookshop, Crowley needs to verify that it IS actually still safe and there aren’t traps or enemies lying in wait. Aziraphale insists that he shouldn’t go alone, and Crowley decides…

To take Aziraphale with him to check the shop for dangers. Aziraphale is injured, but a part of Crowley would rather they stick together. Besides, if something is lying in wait, Crowley would give his life before he allowed harm to come to Aziraphale. Team Ineffable Husbands is a go!

To take Gabriel with him to check the shop for dangers. Okay, yes, Crowley does technically hate Gabriel. But Gabriel is less injured than both Aziraphale and Beelzebub, and the archangel does still have an ethereal sword up his metaphysical sleeve. Crowley is willing to put up with Gabriel if it means keeping Aziraphale out of harm’s way. Team Inimical Assholes is a go!

To take Beelzebub with him to check the shop for dangers. Beelzebub annoys Crowley slightly less than Gabriel, and despite their injuries, Beelzebub is a powerful ally to have in a fight and seems to have a nose for sniffing out enemies. Team Awkward Demons is a go!

To go in alone, despite Aziraphale’s protests. Aziraphale is injured and Crowley would rather face any potential traps knowing that Aziraphale is safely out of harm’s way. He doesn’t need backup anyway. Team... just Crowley is a go!

Please comment or reblog to vote! :)

And yes, McDonald’s does actually sell tiny baggies of carrots.

Part 19

#my writing #choose your own adventure #choose your own adventure fic #ineffable husbands #ineffable bureaucracy #crowley #aziraphale #good omens beelzebub #good omens gabriel #ineffable partners #ineffable husbands fic #good omens #good omens fanfiction #multi-chapter fic

[miyaniacs]

Mafia AU - Bokuto x fem!reader

Chapter 6 - Unexpected Events 

Chapter 5 - You are mine. ; Index ; masterlist

warnings: mentions of death and blood

Tuesday, 7pm 

Ushijima left about an hour ago, he stayed quite long after last night. Strange enough you had a feeling that he felt bad when he saw all the bruises he left on your body and how you frowned with every movement. 

You sigh and fall down on your sofa, pulling your blanket over your legs. 

Why have I chose this life again? You sigh and look over at the plush owl. 

Yeah why have you? At first you could say it was as if you were forced. Ushijima saved you this one night, that still hunts your dreams. Until that night you’ve always been naive, walking around the city at night, partying until the next morning or waking up in some strangers bed. 

That night you got into the car of those two guys, they told you they just needed to ‘talk with some of their guys’.  You got out of the car with them, the ‘other guys’ already waiting for them, but as soon as they saw you something changed. “We got something for us to have some fun” the one next to you said and pushed you forwards, you stumbled on the hard ground. The other got closer and you knew what was going to happen to you, but then he came. You still remember his words: “You’re here to work and not to take advantage of some innocent girl. GET THE FUCK OFF OF HER NOW!”. Then a shoot, and the guy who was feeling you up just seconds before fall down next to you. Blood running put off the wound on his head. The next thing you felt was his arm around your waist pulling you up, protectively pushing you against him, the gun in his other hand. You can still feel the warmth that filled your body in that moment. You never felt so save before.

Ushijima took you home that night and stayed until you felt asleep. The next morning you woke up finding some fresh croissants in your kitchen together with his number, saying that you should text him. And so you did.. and he asked you for one small favour. This favour was 2 years ago. You got used to all the money, the adrenaline and the fun. 

“I’m so sorry Bokuto.” You say and pull the owl into your chest, feeling the tiredness taking over your body you closed your eyes. 

Wednesday, 2am

Your eyes shoot open. What was this noise? Is someone at your door? Yeah there is definitely someone banging on your door. 

You grab your gun and walk over to your door. 

“Y/n.. please tell me you can hear me.” Wait you know this voice, but it sounds different? 

You look throw the door viewer and you see exactly what you feared to see. 

Quickly you open the door and help Bokuto in. Blood dripping out of a wound on his arm, his right eye is swollen and all in all he doesn’t look good, probably due to the blood loss. 

You guide him to your bathroom and he sits down on your toilet. 

“Can you take off your shirt?” You ask him and he nods, taking off his shirt. You grab a long tweezer and some bandages. FUCK your disinfectants are empty. “Bo, I’m sorry but I need to get vodka, I forgot to stock up on my disinfectants.” You look back at him, “Take that towel and press against the wound.” Hurrying back to your kitchen you grab the vodka and come back into the bath only to find Bokuto passed out. “FUCK!” You exclaimed and quicks check his pulse. 

Okay. Everything is alright. He just passed out. You quickly clean up the wound with the vodka, which eventually gets him back to reality. “SHITT” he groans. “I need to get the bullet out. Here bite on that towel.” You hand him the towel he was originally supposed to press on his wound. 

Carefully you remove the bullet with the tweezers and sew the wound together. You’re really glad you volunteered for the ambulance when you were 18. After putting on the bandage, you finally look into his eyes. 

“Bo, what happened?” Your eyes filled with sorrow. 

“Nothing major, one of the gangs that worked for us though it was a good idea to act up.”, He took a sip out of the vodka, “but don’t worry, I took care of them.” He lazily smirks. 

“Bokuto - “ you start but he interrupts you. “It’s fine really, I can go now if you want. Your apartment just was the nearest and I needed somewhere to go and you told me that you volunteered for the ambulance so, sorry if I caused trouble.” He gets up, his face twitched in pain. 

Why do all of them have to act so tough. You can’t even count the times Tosh stood in front of your door, with several wounds barley able to walk - all the convincing it took you to made him stay, it was ridicules. 

“Bokuto, please stay.” You stutter. He turns around and looks down at you. “Do you really want that?” He asks. You nod and take his hand leading him to your bedroom, gesturing to your bed. He hesitates at first but then took off his shoes and lays down.

“Do you need anything?” You ask him and he smiles. “Just you in my arms.” Your heart arches and you slowly walk towards him. You sit down next to him and he wraps his non injured arm around you to pull you down on his chest. After a few seconds you shift and wrap one arm around his waist, your head rests on his chest while you throw one of your legs over his. 

“Who caused them?” He asks, his fingers tracing the marks Ushijima left on your collarbone and neck. You gulp, already looking for an excuse. “Wait never mind, just tell me if it’s something serious with this guy?” He mumbles his fingers now run through your hair. “I really don’t know, it’s mainly sex but I-“ you sigh, you’ve actually always been confused about what this thing between you and Tosh is. “It’s fine, that just means that I have to take more effort in now to make you mine.” You feel your cheeks burn at his words - ‘To make you mine.’. 

As if you’re in trance you look at his eyes and push yourself up, to kiss him. Finally you feel his soft lips again. Switching the position you’re now sitting onto of him, deepening the kiss. You don’t know how much practice he got, but you’re melting in the kiss, both of you not wanting to break it. Soon after you need air, he gently stokes your cheek and gives you a perk on your lips. “We should sleep okay?” You whine in response. “No baby, we sleep now, we are not in the right state to get this more heated.” He chuckles as you mumbles something not understandable and cuddle back up on him. His arm pulls you tighter onto him, his face nuzzled in your hair, as you fall asleep to the steady beat of his heart. 

Wednesday, 7 am

You wake up by someone calling your name. 

“Hey, y/n.” Bokuto whispers in your ear while planting kisses on your temples. “Baby, I know you’re awake.” He laughs softly and you groan. “Just a few more minutes..” You mumble and cuddle closer to him, hiding your face in his chest, shielding your eyes from the morning sun. 

“Baby.. You need to get up. You have a class at 9am.” He stokes your hair and looks at you lovingly. You move your head, eyes fluttering because of the light and place a kiss on his jawline.

“I’ll just skip it.” You close your eyes again but Bokuto takes away the blankets and now you’re freezing. “OMG BO?!” Your eyes are now fully open and you look at him disgusted. “You don’t need to care about my education” you huff. Yes, you’re grumpy in the morning. Especially with the lack of sleep and your needed caffein.  “Go and get ready, I’ll make some coffee grumpy.” Bokuto laughs. “Wait, let me check your arm first.” You look at the bandage on his arm, which has a light red sport showing. “No, I’m fine, don’t worry about me. It doesn’t hurt anymore.” He lies, and clearly you know that he does, but you don’t have the energy right now to discuss this topic any further with him so you just sigh and make your way to the bathroom. 

Wednesday,  7:50 am 

“Here.” Bokuto places the cup in front of you, while you scroll through your phone checking your messages.  “Thank you Bo.” You smile, not lifting your eyes off your phone. “Should I drive you to your campus?” He asks and lifts his own cup up to his lips. “Would that be okay for you?” You now look at him. His hair is still messy, he has dark circles under his eyes, one of his eyes is still some colour of purple, his shirt isn’t buttoned up completely, leaving the upper buttons undone.  “You look like shit.” You state. “Oh you were the one putting vodka on my wound, how do you expect me to look?” He rolls his eyes in a joking way before he adds ”besides I’d put on a different shirt if I were you. There is quite some discolorations showing.” You groan, remembering the mess Ushijima left on your skin and get up to put on a T-Shirt with a higher collar. 

Wednesday, 8:40 am 

You get out of Bokuto’s car after saying your goodbye and promising him that you won*t ignore his messages and be save and most importantly text him if you’d feel uncomfortable. 

Walking towards the building your class is held in you receive a massage from Ushijima. 

From: Tosh 

Wait for me in the room after the lecture ends.  We need to meet Kags at the Casino afterwards.

You reread the message for five times and the ‘wait for me in the room’ won’t make any sense. 

“Hey Y/N!” Your best friends walk up to you and you great them putting your phone away. It’s Ushijima after all who knows why you need to wait there for him. 

Wednesday, 9:15 am 

The door opens and your faculty director walks in. “I’m sorry to announce that Professor Bernstein died.” All the student immediately start to whisper, all the crazies theories about his death coming up, “YET we quickly found someone who will take his place for the rest of the semester. Please welcome -“ you stop listening. You already know who he is, and now you know why your old professor has died all of sudden. You roll your eyes as Ushijimas lock with yours. 

Wednesday, 1:30 pm 

You told your friends that you need to talk with the Professor because of some essay you had to do. They just smirked at you “You don’t have to lie, we have eyes. He is hot as fuck, shoot your shot babygirl.” 

Sadly you weren't the only one staying in the room. Around 10 other female students are circling the desk Ushijima leans against asking him question after question - or more likely flirting with him. You huff. As if anyone of them would have a chance with him. The black hair one with this extremely deep cut shirt takes a step forward and - puts her hand on his chest? 

The more you watch her touching him, the more annoyed you get. You sigh loudly, getting attention. He smirks and tells the other girls off, which still try to stay ,but quickly run off as his presence changes, showing that that he was not kindly asking them. 

He slowly walks up to you. “Why?” You just ask him. “It was the Boss’s idea. We’re all worried about your safety since this Bastard picked you up on the campus and also came to you last night.” By now he reached the sport you’re standing, hovering over you. You open your mouth to say something but he’s faster “Don’t worry, I know you’re just playing your role babygirl.” He gently stokes your cheek. “Shouldn't we go now? I bet the others are already waiting.” You grumble and add “You took long enough answering those questions - about what? If your muscles are real?” If you could take back your words you would. The last part was supposed to be your thoughts only. “Is my baby jealous?” He smirks. Yes, yes you are jealous. You’re not used to see other girls flirt with him that offensively. Usually when the two of you are around others it was visible for everyone that he was with you. “Now you know how I feel, when I see you with Bokuto. So just imagine how you’d feel if you know one of them spends the night at mine.” He whispers the last part in your ear. Your stomach twists simply by the thought of some other girl sharing a bed with him. Your lack of answers is enough for him to smile softly. “Exactly baby. But don’t worry. I don’t want anyone else than you.” he gently kisses the soft skin behind your ear. “Now let’s get going, the boss is waiting”

taglist ( open ) : @kageyamasbraincell , @theduvetpirate , @tendouthighs​ ,  @lilacshouko​ @softhourswithseb​ @theperksofcoffee​ @cuddlesslut​ @chromaticstudio  @shhhlikeme, @kynyta​  @yammmers 

#haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x y/n #bokuto imagine #bokuto x reader #bokuto headcanons #ushijima x reader #ushijima headcanons #hq headcanons

[bitterlikesweets]

Love Bites Ch 12

This is the twelfth chapter of a modern/vampire AU ereri fanfic. You can also read it on Ao3. 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12

Next

Eren’s still not sure if he should be impressed by Levi's weapon closet, or if he should be terrified. Levi is halfway absorbed by it, his upper body hidden by black cloaks and coats and he rummages through the more dangerous contents deeper inside. Eren is a few feet away, perched on the armrest of Levi's black sofa, his nose scrunched in annoyance.

"You rub those clothes in garlic or something?" Eren asks, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his fingers.

"Every other week," Levi replies.

Eren scowls. That must be why he didn't smell it last time.

"Why? And why the hell did you still do it when you knew I was going to come over?"

"Sometimes I need to smell like shit to save my own life." Levi sticks an arm out between the coats to flip the grumpy vampire off. "And you can get over it."

"Does a stinky coat really help you that much?"

"I think you being halfway across the house from me proves that it does."

Eren frowns. He can’t disagree, although he would be keeping his distance from Levi right now even if the man didn’t dive headfirst into a closet that stinks of garlic. Eren's not sure if he should be close, if he can be close. Because as much as Levi’s touch and his presence sets Eren at ease, the fact that he always almost bites Levi’s throat when they get too close has the opposite effect.

Eren doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like the way his body moves without him even noticing. He doesn’t like the way those movements always lead to fangs against Levi’s neck because what if Levi doesn’t notice next time? Levi is quick and alert, but he’s also comfortable. He laughs, he jokes, he lets Eren lean against him like it’s nothing. Like Eren is just a human, a person, not a monster with the ability to rip Levi’s throat out, just like—

Eren squeezes his eyes shut.

He just doesn’t want to hurt Levi or anyone else. And the more this keeps happening, the more he becomes unsure if it’s safe for people to be around him. Levi has noticed and stopped Eren every time the vampire gets too close to biting him, but what if there’s a day that Levi doesn’t notice? What if there’s a moment where the former hunter thinks he's safe and ends up bitten or turned or worse, just because he trusted a vampire when he shouldn’t have? What if—

“Hey.”

Eren’s eyes fly open, and he finds Levi standing right in front of him, pale lips curved into a frown and gray eyes staring up at Eren in concern. Eren forces out a brief laugh and averts his gaze, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand.

“S-sorry, did you say something?” Eren asks. “I kind of zoned out for a second.”

Gray eyes narrow, and Levi steps to the side, into Eren’s field of view. Eren lowers his gaze to the floor. Then he drops his hand from his neck to the armrest he’s still perched upon.

“Zoned out,” Levi says.

“Yeah, yep. That is, uh… I did say that.”

When Levi stays silent, Eren clears his throat, his grip tightening on the sofa’s black fabric.

“Sorry, why don’t we just—”

“Eren.”

Eren blinks and raises his gaze to meet Levi’s. And Levi—Levi is closer, stepping closer, moving closer, and Eren's eyes flicker down slightly, to Levi's still exposed neck. He thinks about his fangs too close to Levi’s neck and his own bite scars throb—

Eren slides backwards. He does it forcefully too, bracing his hands on the armrest and shoving, launching his own body backwards with speed that surprises him so badly, he knows he accidentally activated his vampire strength. He sees gray eyes going wide before his ass is off the armrest and his balance is lost. He tumbles to the other side of the sofa, half of his back slamming into black cushions and the other half hanging limply in the air, all four of his limbs flailing in panic.

And while that's happening, all Eren can think is, I'm a fucking idiot.

Then something catches one of his flailing limbs. A hand wraps around his left ankle. Eren looks up and sees one of his feet dangerously close to Levi’s jaw, probably just seconds away from kicking the former vampire hunter in the face.

Eren’s body stills, one of his arms dropping to hold himself up off of the ground, the leg not currently being held hostage by Levi lowering and bending slightly, to rest upon the sofa cushions.

And Levi’s just staring down at Eren in silence. Just looking, his gray eyes as dark as a storm cloud at dusk.

Eren’s about two more seconds of awkward silence away from telling Levi to just put him out of his misery.

“Wait here,” Levi says before Eren’s shame ascends to unbearable heights.

“Wha—”

Levi tosses Eren’s leg aside like he’s just tossing a piece of garbage into the trash, and Eren’s body twists with it. The remnants of the vampire's balance that were keeping Eren miraculously still on the sofa crumble to nothing, and Eren tumbles into a heap on Levi’s carpeted floors, spluttering out a mix of questions and curses.

When he gains enough sanity to prop himself up onto his hands and knees, the last thing Eren sees of Levi is a pair of feet at the top of the stairs across the room.

Eren just stays there for a moment. His mind is taking a moment to process, rewinding the past few minutes to make sure that actually happened. Honestly, it feels a bit like he’s hallucinating. Or having some sort of horrible dream. A naked-in-the-classroom sort of horrible dream.

He looks over his shoulder at the sofa that he’s put in complete disarray. The extra gray pillows that used to be tucked neatly against the armrests are on the floor, one of them trapped beneath Eren’s knee. The cushions are dislodged, showing the rough fabric and metal beneath. Eren’s pant leg is rolled up where Levi had him by the ankle. And Levi…

Levi disappeared.

Eren pushes himself up off of the floor into a sitting position, resting his back against the sofa and wrapping his hands around his ankles.

Eren massively fucked that up.

He didn’t mean to. He was thinking about not hurting Levi physically, and now he’s gone on to hurt the man in other ways. But Eren’s mind is just… everywhere. Or, more like nowhere. His mind is everywhere and nowhere at once because if he lets his brain go, he’ll just start thinking about everything. Then, all of Eren’s focus goes to try to get his mind to shut up for a fucking second—

And then he gets caught off guard. And then his thoughts go everywhere again. And then Eren is launching himself away from the man who means the world to him without a thought for the consequences until it’s too late.

Eren is messy. Single-minded. God, he just feels like such an idiot sometimes. Of course Levi left him after that—

Eren’s ears twitch. His grip tightens around his ankles.

The water is running upstairs. He can hear the humming pipes, the dozens of tiny droplets hitting tiled floors.

Levi is… turning on a shower?

Eren blinks. He tilts his head when the sound changes, senses heightening, ears angled towards the sound unconsciously. The sound is quieter, the drops not falling so heavily. They’re traveling shorter distances, landing on something less rigid. It has to be flesh, skin, unless Levi has shoved something random into the shower to throw Eren off. (He wouldn’t do that… Would he? Does Levi think of weird pranks when he gets mad or something?)

Levi is showering. Eren jumped away from Levi like the man was the embodiment of the plague, and Levi… Levi is showering.

Eren can’t tell if he’s just stupid or if Levi just doesn’t make any fucking sense.

A few minutes later, the sounds stop. If Eren strains, he can hear fabric rustling, quiet footsteps across the floor. And then he doesn’t have to listen because Levi is coming down the stairs, a towel hanging from his neck and a few droplets falling from his dark hair.

Levi pauses at the bottom at the stairs, meeting Eren’s gaze from across the room. Eren straightens a little, his eyes scanning Levi’s face for annoyance—and also scanning his new outfit, because the dark t-shirt clings to Levi’s wet torso, and fuck Eren needs to get his head together.

Levi’s gaze shifts above Eren’s head to the areas directly beside Eren. Levi shoves his hands into the pockets of his black sweatpants, averting his gaze as he sighs. Eren flinches, closing his eyes and preparing for the worst—

“You could’ve at least cleaned up a little.”

Green eyes pop open. Gray eyes are already ready to meet that gaze.

“...Huh?”

“I was up there for a little while,” Levi says, then he juts his chin out to point in Eren’s general direction. “You could’ve fixed your mess.”

“What?” Eren looks over his shoulder and the mess of pillows and cushions before springing to his feet. “O-oh, yeah, I can, uh—I should’ve—I’ll clean up right now!”

Eren turns his back on Levi, frantically attempting to shove the cushions back into their places, though it feels like he’s only succeeding at displacing them at different angles.

He feels more than sees Levi come up next to him, mostly because he’s keeping his gaze stubbornly on the sofa. Levi helps him put the rectangular cushions back in their rightful place. Their shoulders brush, just once, and Eren’s breath stutters.

“...You’re just as worked up as earlier,” Levi says, bending down to pick up one of the little gray pillows.

“Oh, I just, uh…”

Eren clears his throat and dives for a pillow, but Levi catches hold of his hand.

“It didn’t help?”

Eren finally meets Levi’s gaze again.

“What didn’t?”

“The shower.”

Eren blinks.

“What was the shower supposed to help with?”

“The smell.”

“I… what?”

“The smell,” Levi repeats, a frown coming to his lips. “You were already complaining about it, then I came close and you jumped away. So, I assumed—”

Eren should probably feel bad for how loud he laughs, how hard it shakes his shoulders and bubbles out from his lips. But when Levi is looking up at him, tenderly holding his hand, wet from the shower—because he thought Eren was that bothered by how the man smelled like garlic—

He really can’t bring himself to feel bad when it’s just this damn funny.

“What?” Levi snaps, dropping Eren’s hand. “The hell are you laughing at?”

Eren is still laughing, bent over with his hands on the couch to keep himself upright. But his arms are shaking with his shoulders as he laughs, and he slips. His body veers to the side, into Levi, and the man wraps an arm around Eren, to steady him.

Though when Eren looks up, eyes watering, Levi certainly looks less than happy about it.

“What the hell are you laughing at?” Levi nearly growls.

Eren bites back his laughs with his flat front teeth, just long enough that he can suck in a few greedy gulps of air afterwards. And when he’s finally calm enough to form words, Eren flashes a grin at Levi and says—

“You, obviously. Dumbass.”

Levi drops him. Eren bursts out laughing all over again.

“I just don’t see what’s so fucking funny.”

Eren looks up at Levi, standing over him with his arms crossed and a scowl on.

“You are,” Eren says. “Thank you for worrying about me, but—”

Eren starts to laugh again and barely chokes it back in time to finish his sentence.

“You must really like me, huh?” Eren asks.

It’s a joke. Eren’s still half-laughing as he says it. He doesn’t mean the words, not really—though he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t projecting a bit of hope into them—and he never intended for Levi to take him seriously.

That’s why it freezes Eren. It kills the laugh in his chest, the way Levi’s expression falls back into the stiff mask, when the man’s entire body tenses and angles away from Eren. Levi’s mouth opens and falls shut. His eyes, the most expressive part of him, are blank.

Eren’s body goes cold. It’s not even a rush, not a flood of blood escaping him. It’s instant, it’s freezing. He has Levi’s blood in him and he can’t feel it. What he feels like is a corpse.

And… he is one. It’s just that with Levi he forgets. He always, always forgets.

“I, uh…” Eren’s mouth is dry. “I was joking.”

Levi’s shoulders lower a little. He turns his head even farther away. He does that thing with his mouth again. Open. Close. Silence. Then—

“...Oh. Good.”

Good. Good? Good?

“No, fuck, wait—”

Levi’s talking but Eren’s head is fuzzy. His ears are clogged. He stumbles to his feet, and when Levi reaches out for him, he dodges.

Good. Good. No, of course. Of course. Because if Eren was serious, that’d be bad. Because of course, Levi doesn’t feel that way, not towards Eren. He must feel the opposite because why else would he react so strongly to a fucking joke—

“Eren.”

“Look, I know we were supposed to be practicing, but I really just want to go home right now.”

He can feel Levi at his heels as he rushes to the door. He refuses to look back.

“Please, just let me explain—”

“I really need to go home.”

“Eren—”

There are fingers at his wrist. Eren jerks his hand away before Levi can get the chance. He can’t—he can’t right now, can’t be here, can’t listen, can’t be touched. It’s too much, and it’s not just the joke, it’s the neck and the biting and his newly realized feelings, and Eren just can’t.

He’s so cold. He’s shaking all over. He doesn’t want Levi to touch him. Not right now, not when he feels like this.

He doesn’t want those warm, human hands anywhere near this walking corpse.

“Eren—”

“Levi, please—”

“Eren, I’m in love with you.”

Eren’s hand is already on the doorknob. His back is to Levi, and the door is already open. The cool night air is making him even colder. He’s shaking. His mind is—his mind—it’s everywhere, nowhere, not where he fucking needs it and even it was, it never helps him anyway. He’s far from thinking straight, far from having any coherent thought at all.

Maybe that’s why, even with Levi behind him, saying everything he wants to hear, Eren runs out the door.

#ereri riren #ereri #riren #ereri fanfic #riren fanfic #fanfiction

[fleckcmscott]

Watch What Happens - Chapter 23

Chapter links: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22

Summary: Arthur, an aspiring comedian, has struggled to find normalcy and compassion his entire life. Y/N, a hard-working paralegal and transplant to Gotham, has just been put on a case for the Wayne Foundation. When they meet, unexpected sparks fly.

Chapter warning: Angst, Swearing, Adult Situations

Words: 4,403

A/N: Thanks to Karen, @ithinkimawriter,​ for beta-reading this chapter and her support! Send her all the love!

Elation and adrenaline were coursing through Arthur's veins as he held onto the grab bar on the subway. Y/N had told him to go out there and be a comedian. To be himself and not let them mock him. And he'd thrown caution to the wind and done all of it. It was a struggle to stop laughing almost the entire way home - he didn't know if he had ever felt so euphoric.

But Y/N appeared pensive, standing next to him, quietly holding his hand, and barely looking his way in the moderately busy car. If he'd been able to concentrate on anything besides the energy crawling along his limbs, he would have asked if she was all right. Instead, he settled for putting an arm around her shoulders and planting a firm kiss on her lips. She tightened her grip on him, but ducked away from his mouth. He didn't release her, though, finally having the confidence to show everyone on that train, every person in Gotham, that she was his.

Once they were back at his place, he attempted to get her to join him in the shower. He pinned her to the kitchen counter, pressed her fingers to front of his trousers so she could feel his erection, and told her he'd been craving her since they'd left the studio. She held back. She'd make coffee, she said, and it'd be ready when he came out. At his pout, she'd nudged his side and told him to go clean up.

He leaned against the bathroom's tile wall after beating off under the hot water, closing his eyes as steam filled his lungs. Eventually, his muscles relaxed and he let his mind drift, thinking of how well he'd done on Murray, humming and chuckling to himself. He was startled when Y/N whipped open the curtain. The water had gone cold - he'd been in there a lot longer than he thought. She shut off the shower, pulled him out to stand next to the tub, and started drying his back. The towel was warm and soft, and after a minute she wrapped it around his waist. She stepped out after giving him his pajamas and thermal shirt.

A mug was waiting for him on the coffee table when he entered the living room. And Y/N was sitting on the sofa, still dressed in her office attire, with her legs crossed and arms hugging herself. He didn't like her neutral expression when he sat down next to her. But he decided to be his version of normal. To pretend nothing seemed amiss. The coffee was sweet when he tasted it and he grinned into the cup; she'd remembered how he liked it. Then he turned to her. "You've been quiet since we left."

"I'm just tired," she said. "I climbed five flights of stairs." Angling towards him, she asked, "Would you mind if I lay down?"

He would, a bit, but he was trying not to be selfish. After walking her to the bedroom, he watched her fold back the covers. "You're going to sleep in your clothes?"

"It won't be the first time." She climbed between the sheets without kissing him good night. "See you in the morning."

Arthur frowned but didn't press further. Instead, he closed the bedroom door, and sauntered to the dining table. He left the television on as he smoked and wrote in his journal, briefly paying attention when the news started. There was no mention of any of the information Y/N had said she was dropping off. Maybe it would take time before anything happened. After working on a few jokes, he managed to pass out on the sofa for a couple short hours.

The smell of cooking woke him. He rubbed his face before sitting up and straightening his hair, then reached for a cigarette. Peering through the window into the kitchen, he saw Y/N standing at the stove, and he could hear the sounds of a spatula scraping a pan and coffee being made. He lit up and smoked as he made his way to her, then kissed her forehead. "You're better at pancakes than eggs."

Her response was to stare at what she was cooking. Not at him. "Go sit. They're almost done."

She was acting oddly. But he did what she asked. He took out two coffee cups and put them on the breakfast bar, then sat on the other side in the living room to watch her. The tension in her shoulders was obvious as the minutes passed, and the movements of her frame were tight as she looked for a plate and silverware. He found that his own body mirrored hers the longer he watched. After she gave him breakfast, all he could think about is how he wished she would look at him.

After a couple quiet bites, she sat on the stool next to him and served coffee for them both. The shaky inhale she took before speaking put him on alert. "Arthur... I need a little time."

Hurt shot through his chest, straight to the top of his head and down to the tips of his toes. This was what he'd been preparing for since they'd started dating. Her negative reaction to finding out the truth about him. The moment he'd prayed would never come. "What for?"

As she spoke, he fought to force himself to listen. "I have to sort some stuff out."

His gaze darted to hers. "What does that mean?" he said, trying to keep his voice steady.

"I need time to think about last night." Her words were spoken between quiet sips.

The clench of his jaw was so hard it could have cracked his teeth. "You're breaking up with me," he said.

She grimaced and put down her cup. "No, I'm-"

His head shook as the cords of his neck tightened. "I only did what you told me to do. I wanted to be honest. I- I-" He dropped the fork and pushed the plate away from him. Maybe revealing what he had on Murray before talking to her had been a mistake. But he couldn't change it now. Unable to hold back, he burst out, "How else could I tell you I'm crazy?"

Panic began filling him, and he clenched his fists as his nostrils flared. "Shit. I did everything you wanted and you're fucking leaving!" She put her palm on his leg, but he twisted away from her, getting up and going to the bedroom. It was imperative he calm down before he started kicking the furniture. Putting his hands in his hair, he pulled, elbows out in front of him as he paced and wished his damned apartment had more space to get away from her.

Annoyingly, she followed until she stood behind him. "I'm not leaving you." He resisted when she tried to pull him to her, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of knowing how much he needed to feel her against his skin. "You haven't done anything wrong."

He huffed at that, her explanations making it worse. "Then why are you punishing me?"

"I'm not," she said. "Please hear me." When her breath hit the crook of his neck, he shut his eyes. "It will only be for a few days. A week at most."

"A week?" He could barely stand being without her for a day.

She continued. "I love you. And my phone's still connected. You can always call me if you're in any type of trouble."

When she laid her head on his upper back, he forced himself to swallow the tears that had settled in his throat. It didn't make any sense. If she loved him, why did she need to be apart from him? The press of her lips to his misshapen shoulder interrupted his thoughts and he flinched. He softened slightly as she traced the outline of his ribs. It was almost enough to let go.

But he wasn't ready to. Even as he fought to trust her, he hated this situation and didn't understand it. At the feel of her fingers slipping away from him, he grabbed her hand. He sought to memorize the softness of her skin, the warmth of it against his own, thinking he might never feel it again. She ran her thumb over his knuckles before giving them a soft kiss, then gently let go of him. "I'll see you soon."

~~~~~

Y/N didn't say more than a quick greeting to Matt and Patricia that morning. All she wanted was to work, be left alone, and start figuring out what the hell she was going to do with Arthur. He'd told her his material would be different, that he'd written about what he knew. She would never have guessed that had meant he'd been committed and was much more ill than she'd assumed. Or that he would have, what appeared to her, to be a televised breakdown. Though she knew she was being irrational, she felt guilty. He obviously hadn't felt safe enough to confide in her - it had been easier for him to talk to a stranger.

Scoffing, she realized she hadn't had the chance to tell him the good news: the psychiatrist she knew had agreed to see Arthur at a discounted rate. And she'd prepaid for several appointments, ones he could schedule when he felt ready. Pondering on it now, she wondered how she was going to let him know without him thinking she was asking him to change. Or that she believed something was wrong with him. Neither were true. She loved him for who he was, quirks and all. She simply wanted him to be healthy, to take proper care of himself, and accept the help she could provide.

At least Arthur hadn't been completely irrational. Despite the unstable delivery of what he had said on Murray, he hadn't been wrong. People were lacking in empathy. Thomas Wayne was an asshole. And the Wayne Foundation had turned out to be just as corrupt as any other questionable non-profit. On her way to the office, she'd listened to her pocket radio, hoping to hear news coverage about the organization's scheme to fuck over the poor. But there was nothing. Nada. Zilch. Maybe the information needed time to percolate with whoever read it.

After about two hours of typing up briefs, Patricia went to Matt's office. Y/N couldn't make out what they were saying, though the door was open. But she assumed it was about her. Matt stepped out, gave a stupid little wave, and said he'd be back later. Then she looked up to see Patricia standing next to her desk, arms folded over her chest, gazing at her with sympathy. Y/N swiveled in her chair and cleared her throat. "So, um... Seen anything interesting on TV lately?"

"How much of that did you know before Murray Franklin?"

Picking up a pen and tapping the tip of it against her desk, Y/N thought it over. "I was only sure he took medication and saw a therapist before the city slashed the budget." She didn't have to worry about keeping Arthur's secrets now, she supposed. "He wasn't doing well when his mother went into the hospital, and he found out what he did - about the abuse - but who would?"

Patricia's voice was gentle when she asked the next question. "Did you know he was in Arkham?"

"No," Y/N answered. "I didn't have him complete a medical history before we started sleeping together. He wasn't obligated to tell me."

"Y/N, he told everyone." Patricia moved to drag her chair over to Y/N's desk, then sat next to her and put her elbows on it. "You haven't known him that long. If you don't want to-"

Y/N pushed herself up and walked to the window. Looking out onto the street, she eyed her fellow Gothamites as they raced to and fro. The city, like her life, would be less colorful without Arthur in it. "Patricia, I love him. I know it's only been a short time... But that doesn't matter." She wiggled her toes as she continued. "I'm figuring out what to do. I haven't been scared in a long time."

"If you're scared of Arthur, leave him," Patricia said.

Turning, Y/N met her eyes. "Not of him. Of not...knowing. Of not being certain." Sighing, she bit her lip as she sat on the window sill and crossed her legs. It pissed her off that her eyes were watering. She looked up at the ceiling and counted the holes punctured in the tiles, trying and failing to distract herself. "I loved my father unconditionally. He encouraged me to be brash. He taught me to value my brain and not hide it to attract a man. I was the first woman in Boonville to go to college because of him."

Y/N had never told Patricia the details of being a caretaker, the toll it had taken on her, the way it had changed her into someone unrecognizable. All she'd wanted to do was leave that part of her life behind. But now it was bearing down on her. "Towards the end of caring for him, I did a terrible job," she laughed brokenly. "There were times I was...mean." She made her way back to her desk as she spoke. "When I'd try to shave him and he'd take a swing at me. Or I'd make him his favorite dish, and he'd tell me how much he hated it with every spoonful I fed him."

Gratefully, she took the tissue Patricia offered. "I told him he was a pain in the ass. That dealing with him was ruining my life. And worse." Y/N's gaze flicked to hers for only an instant, feeling too much shame to hold it for long. "He never remembered the words I said. But he must have felt them. I didn't know how to deal with my grief and frustration... I wanted it to be over."  After sinking into her chair, she sucked in a deep breath. "I loved him so much. And I still managed to be terrible."

After wiping her eyes, she crumpled the kleenex in her hand. "Last night, after the show, I was surprised and shocked...and so proud of Arthur. But I felt the same helplessness as back home." She was unable to stifle her soft sob. "I don't want Arthur to see that part of me. And I never want to be that person again."

"You won't be," Patricia said. She took Y/N's hand, and Y/N surprised herself by holding onto it. She wondered how Patricia could sound so confident. "You were alone, then. Now you've got me. And I know Matt can be an ass, but if you need time or anything else, he'll try to give it to you."

Even though Y/N appreciated Patricia's reassurances, she was still unsure of herself. "Sometimes Arthur looks at me like I'm his only chance at normalcy."

"He had a life before you. You said he's taken care of his mother. That he ran a household. He's obviously capable." Patricia scooted closer to her. "Do I understand falling in love with...an eccentric comedian in only a few weeks? No. I admit that." Y/N chuckled, knowing the words were said without judgment, despite her phrasing. "But you did. Don't let your fears ruin it."

Y/N nodded and pressed her lips together as she mused. All her life she'd had to be strong, whether in her career, getting divorced, or when care-taking. While she would always be assertive, it was tiring to have to pretend she was indestructible. Arthur brought out a side of herself that she'd forgotten existed. That soft part of her personality she kept under lock and key. She knew he liked it when she said things she couldn't have dreamed of ever telling anyone. And it wasn't just her supporting him. He'd been there for her, too, even helping her with her damned caper.

Smiling gently, she confirmed what she already knew in her heart. "He's worth it."

​After leaving the office, she went to the Gotham Public Library and to find books for those in relationships with people with mental health disorders. It was hard to know what to get, considering she didn't know Arthur's diagnosis. And there weren't a lot of choices. The only ones that sparked her interest came from the "Loving Someone with..." series. Though their cheesy titles made her groan, the skinny volumes looked practical when flipping through them. She checked-out five and started in on them on the train back to Burnley.

When she got home and checked her machine, there was a message from Patricia wishing her a good weekend, but nothing from Arthur. The mix of emotions welling in her, both disappointment that he hadn't called and gratitude that he was respecting her space, made her feel childish. She sighed, retrieved leftovers from her fridge, then sat at her dining table. Chewing slowly, she tucked her foot under her thigh as she continued to read.

~~~~~

​As the weekend went by without seeing her, Arthur started to assume he wasn't going to hear from Y/N again. Her absence gnawed at him, a dull ache in his abdomen. Every room in the apartment was filled with recollections of her. He wanted to build on them, replace the memories he had of living with Penny. Not knowing if he would be able to do that was difficult.

He stayed home most of the time, trying to keep himself together by filling his journal with the lies his mind told him, an attempt to excise them. ("She never loved me.") It was hard to know what to believe. ("Fuck Y/N. I woud never leev her. I wish we never met!") And everything felt like a contradiction. ("Its eazier to sleep sometimes when she's with me. I want her to come back soon becuze I'm tired.") There were moments he wanted to call her as she'd invited, but he held back, not wanting to upset her further. The irony of what could push her away being him reaching out instead of stubbornly refusing her help wasn't lost on him.

Monday morning, the hospital social worker left a message stating his application for financial help hadn't come back yet. However, with Penny being on disability and having no assets, it was pretty much guaranteed to be approved. There were empty beds in multiple facilities, and he could choose where to send her. That was a relief, but he decided not to call back yet. The woman hadn't said they were going to kick his mother to the curb. He had to put himself first for once - it could wait until he knew what the fuck was going on in his own life.

But he did dip into his savings to buy some boxes so he could start gathering her belongings. It would keep him busy. Going through her clothing was unexpectedly effecting. As he carefully packed her favorite pair of pajamas, a blouse he'd given her for her birthday years ago, and her worn socks, he bit his lip. The majority of him was glad to start the process of getting Penny out of his hair. Without Y/N there, though, it wasn't satisfying. He'd fantasized he'd be living with her, not alone. It was a daunting prospect. If he lost himself and started slamming his head into the mirror or otherwise cracking up, no one would be there to stop him. He tried to push that out of his mind.

Going through Penny's closet, he found an old lock box in the back corner on the top shelf. After standing on a kitchen chair to retrieve it, he sat on the bed and went through the scattered contents. There was a copy of her lease, an envelope with $500 in pre-1945 bills, and a photo of her when she was young and beautiful. He picked it up gingerly, then flipped it over to find, "Love your smile - T.W." on the back. It was impossible to tell who'd written it. It didn't matter now. Closing his eyes, he crumpled it and threw it in the nearby trashcan.

The next day, Arthur decided he'd had enough of waiting and headed to HaHa's. On the way, he was stopped by a couple people who'd seen him on Murray. One of them made fun of him, and he was proud of himself at having merely walked away with a quick "Fuck off," instead of throttling him like he wanted. The other person had been kinder and said Arthur had been right.

Standing outside the graffiti covered brick building of his old workplace, he stared at the gray, steel entrance. He knew coming here was a risk - he didn't want to see Randall or Hoyt - but he needed advice. Fidgeting with the smoke between his fingers, it took some time for him to open the door. He quietly went up the stairs, keeping his head down. Leaning against the wall of the short narrow hallway, he peeked into the locker room.

Fortune seemed to be on his side, for once. The only person there was the one he wanted to see. He stepped forward slowly. "Hi Gary."

Gary started, then turned to him. "Hey, Arthur... Did you get your job back?"

"No." He knit his brows together. "I needed to talk with you. About Y/N."

With a small smile, Gary leaned against his locker's open door. "Oh? How's that going?"

Arthur took a long drag off his cigarette. "She wanted dessert." As Gary chuckled, giving an I-told-you-so look, Arthur sat on the bench between them. "But I think I upset her," he said wearily. "I haven't heard from her. I don't know if I should just show up at her place or her job or-"

"I did that once," Gary gently interrupted. "It didn't go over well." Shrugging, he suggested, "Why don't you write her a letter or something?"

Arthur blinked, his cheeks heating. He concentrated on the floor, scuffing the toe of his shoe against it. "She went to college and I can't spell."

Gary waved the concern away. "Do it anyway. Women love that."

After a few moments, Arthur nodded. "Okay. Oh, here." He reached into his pocket and took out a wrapped up paper bag. "Can you give this to Randall?"

It took a minute, but Gary eventually accepted it. "What is it?"

Arthur cocked his head. "It's his gun. Tell him I don't need it anymore."

~~~~~

Arthur was sitting at his table in the corner of the living room, finishing a TV dinner and trying to work on his material. He'd been brainstorming all day, ever since he'd written his letter and dropped it off at Y/N's that morning. As he'd slid it under her door, using almost all his willpower to keep from knocking, he'd held his breath. There had been two letters, but he'd decided to give her the kinder, hopefully better spelled one. In spite of his best efforts, he thought it was too saccharine. ("Your my first girlfriend, so I'm sorry for screwing up.") But he'd written what he felt. ("I sometimes think I coud be happy when we're together. Gotham isn't as cold and dark with you in it.") And made sure to tell her he loved her. ("I didn't think I'd ever get to tell anyone that, so thanks.")

The buzzer interrupted him while he washed his fork. He'd imagined Y/N coming to his apartment multiple times over the past five days, sometimes slipping into delusion. He'd always hoped it was real, but whenever he'd checked the front door, there was never anyone there. Assuming it was another daydream, he kept cleaning. When the sound came again, he sighed and dried his hands. He knew he'd hear that damn noise all night if he didn't check. Tossing the towel on the counter, he went to the peephole.

Y/N stood in the hallway. She'd come back.

He tried to temper his excitement as he squeezed his eyes shut and fought back a laugh. Arthur knew she could be there for any reason. To officially end their relationship, to retrieve the Tupperware from two weeks ago that he'd neglected to return, to throw his letter back in his face. He had to be ready for anything. His damn leg started bouncing, and he held his thigh in an effort to quiet it. After smoothing back his hair, he forced his hand to the chain lock, softly slid it back, and slowly opened the door.

It took about five seconds for her to speak. "Hi."

His eyelids fluttered as he braced himself on the doorknob, heart beating so fast it felt like it had stopped. "Hey."

"I got your note," she said, holding it up like it was a prize she'd won.

Acknowledging it with a nod, he said, "Good."

They continued to stare at each other, long enough for him to start doubting their conversation was even happening. But then she grinned and jumped into his arms, nearly knocking him over with her enthusiasm. The door barely had time to shut before he lost himself in her.

Their reunion wasn't quite what he'd pictured, like something out of a forties film. Their touches weren't gentle. Romantic words weren't spoken. No orchestra music swelled. He fucked her on the kitchen linoleum with her skirt bunched up to her waist and his pajamas down around his knees.

After several peaceful minutes of laying on top of her, her ankles locked around him, Arthur felt Y/N's shoulders begin to tremble, her palm leave his back to wipe her face. Lifting his head from the crook of her neck, he found she was crying. He wasn't sure what to do. She hadn't done that any of the other times they'd slept together. Maybe she'd hit something on the way to the floor. "Um," he started. Leaning into her, he stroked her jaw. "Are you all right? Did I hurt you?"

To his relief, a light laugh bubbled up from her throat. "No." She let out a long breath. "I'm..." When their eyes met, her wide smile prompted his own. She slid her hands into his hair, drawing his mouth to hers. "I'm just so happy."

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve​ @clowndaddyfleck​ @sweet-nothings04​ @stephieraptorr​ @rommies​  @invisiblewispofwhimsey @let-the-stars-fall-in-the-abyss​ @gruffle1​ @octopus-plasma​

#arthur fleck #arthur fleck fanfic #arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck x ofc #arthur fleck x female reader #joker 2019 #watchwhathappens

[leelem0n]

Weight Loss Q&A

Someone asked some questions about weight loss so I thought it might be helpful to some other people. 

1. Do your nipples get smaller as your boobs get smaller? I worry mine won’t shrink and it’ll look strange. No, they stayed the same.

2. Does your FUPA (relating directly to your vagina, not your lower stomach as some associate with your FUPA) get smaller over time as well? Yes, but if you're very obese then you may need skin surgery.

3. Will a buffalo hump decrease? If it is caused by obesity, yes. If it's caused by poor posture or other skeletal defect, no.

4. What do you do in the in-between phase where you’re not fitting your old clothes anymore but don’t want to buy a new wardrobe just to have to do it all again when you’re at your target weight? Great question. I usually wore my big shirts and then bought some leggings. You may need to buy some things for work depending on the uniform, and in that case I would recommend a second-hand shop so you don't spend a bunch.

5. Is the in-between phase as hard to get through as I think it is? I’m sure some people feel that it’s a motivation to keep working hard, but I feel like it could be a huge struggle in the moment to see your body becoming disproportionate and awkward looking until you reach your target weight. Was that a struggle for you and how did you hype yourself up during? Your body wasn't disproportionate and awkward as you gained, it won't be as you lose. It's not like you only lose weight in one section as a time. You keep your same proportions but just reduce overall size. To keep myself motivated, I just told myself that quitting won't get me anywhere good.

6. Do people treat you differently during and after? I myself am guilty of being negatively jealous of people around me losing weight because I wish it were me instead, but have never said anything about it. Do you have people in your life that aren’t afraid to say those things to you, and how do you cope? Yes and no. For the most part, people treated me differently because I saw myself differently. Being really obese, I had absolutely no confidence and, like you, I was mad at everyone else for being slimmer than I was. Once I lost weight, I didn't magically gain confidence but I did stop being jealous of everyone else's body because I felt I started looking like everyone else. Me not being bitter changed my whole demeanor and made it easier for people to approach me and be friendly with me. I was a fat bitch. I hated myself and hated everyone. When I lost the weight, I also lost a lot of that anger/bitchiness, so I was much friendlier and more relaxed, meaning it was easier to make friends and talk to people. No one wants to talk to some angry person scowling in the corner, after all.

7. Relating to 6, are you treated better as a smaller person? Do you feel that after losing weight you’ve received more positive attention from strangers? Yes, and while part of it is related to 6, part of it isn't. At first, that really bothered me. I was the same person, right? So why are they kinder to me NOW? I realized that being as fat as I was, not only did I look miserable (because I was miserable), but I also realized I just looked...sick. Unhappy. Bothered. I was happier to eat snacks than I was to interact with others, and it's because I had a problem. Just as you wouldn't want to approach someone shooting heroin or lying in a gutter drunk, you don't want to approach someone slowly killing themselves with food. A slow spiral to the grave is just not something humans tend to want to be around.

8. Do you have any advice for overcoming or coping with body dysmorphia and realizing that you aren’t as big as you used to be? If you have body dysmorphia, you have body dysmorphia. It is a mental illness and will not go away just because you lose weight. I still have body dysmorphic disorder (BDD). I've had it no matter what size I've been. It sucks. What can help is to measure yourself periodically with a measuring tape to prove to yourself that you are the size that you really are. Another thing that helps me is to crop out or cover my face in photos. It makes it easier to "see" my progress in my photos if I remove/hide my face. This "trick" also helps a friend of mine who also has BDD. But, you know, as bad as BDD is, you kind of get sick of it. And there are days when I've started saying, "Yeah my legs are disgusting blobs of amorphous goop but, fuck it, it's fucking hot so I'm gonna wear shorts. Fuck BDD."

9. How do you hold yourself accountable and stick to the diet and exercise changes? My biggest struggle is getting started and staying on track, any advice is welcome. Two ways. First, it must be sustainable. If you, say, go on the Cabbage Soup Diet, yeah you're not going to be able to keep that up. If you find a rigid diet plan that has foods you don't normally eat while also cutting out foods you culturally enjoy, no, you won't stick to it. You need a sustainable meal plan that has enough variety and wiggle room to accommodate a normal life. Second, it's just logic. I can't use "motivational images" or videos. I just tell myself, "If I quit now, I won't make the progress I want." It's simple but it works. Another thing is, "Yeah, the pizza would taste good but that's a lot of running to get rid of it. Am I ready to do that?" If so, then yeah, have the pizza. But once you start seeing foods as "This will help me reach my healthy goals" vs "This will slow my progress", the choice becomes much easier.

10. Does your sex life change, negative or positive? Does your partner or hookup care about any loose skin? Most people don't really give a shit as long as they get to have sex haha It sounds kind of crude, but that's the truth of it. If you have a lot of loose skin, it might be a good idea to forewarn them so they don't jump back out of surprise (not disgust), but that's about it.

11. Is it possible for the tightness or elasticity of your vagina to change when you lose weight? Or your ability to get wet and finish? So this is an interesting one. I noticed that I had to do more kegels because there wasn't as much fat "pushing" on the vaginal walls, if that makes sense? As for wetness and orgasm, no, it's the same.

12. What do you do if you reach your target weight and don’t like the way you look? What if you preferred your larger self to your smaller self? I will never, ever, ever, ever prefer my larger self. Ever. I can't imagine you would, either, especially with BDD. So, yeah, I got BDD, I'm gonna hate how I look no matter what, right? But the feeling is very, very different. Even if I hate how I look because of BDD, here are all the reasons I prefer being smaller:

I eat less food, so I save money. If I eat out, I can be satisfied with half the meal and then I have the other half later...two meals for the price of one.

I can move around!! I don't have to LURCH off the sofa to get up. I'm not struggling for breath after walking up three stairs. I can easily walk around when I'm on vacation...and walk all day...and not be aching and drained of all energy

It's way, way easier to buy clothes, even buying online is easier. Cheaper, too! Plus, there are way more styles to choose from.

My feet aren't always aching. My back isn't killing me constantly. I don't have that 24/7 low-grade headache+nausea combo. I have medical issues unrelated to previous obesity, and it's way worse if I'm heavier

I can breathe more easily in any position. I don't have to stop breathing to tie my shoes!

I'm at a lower risk of heart disease, stroke, cancer, etc...which is important to me since I'm already at a higher risk of stroke and cancer (for unrelated reasons).

If I suddenly have a medical emergency (hit by a car, suddenly collapse for some reason), I don't have to worry that bystanders can't move me. When I was at my heaviest, it would have taken at least two VERY strong people to try to lift and move me, but more likely four average people (or more) to try to move me. Now, I can be easily moved if in an emergency

So I hope you can see that even if you still hate your appearance, it's way better having lost the weight.

13. How does extreme weight loss affect tattoos? do they shrink or become distorted at all? It depends on where they're at. Mine were on my arms mostly, and I'm pear-shaped so even with skin surgery it never affected my arms. Sorry, I can't answer this from experience.

14. Is it easier to shave as the surface area decreases? 1000000000% easier to shave and wash. Not only is there less area, but you don't have to dig under your folds.

15. This one is very specific, but do your ankles become smaller? I feel like my ankles are big but the bone and tendon seem to be the same size, so I worry that my ankles will stay big as my legs get smaller and then it will look weird. Your bones don't change in size, so if your ankle bones are big then it's likely you're "big boned" in general and will look proportional. But, even if you just happen to have, like, super big ankle bones, I guarantee that you'll prefer being slimmer with big ankles than your current self. I did this, too, I tried talking myself out of weight loss because "What if I don't like how I look after?" and no no no do not talk yourself out of it.

16. Do you have any areas of your body that seemed to not change or lose weight? Where, and does it bother you/seem disproportionate? I'll bring up my arms again. Granted, I do a lot of weight lifting and my arms are more muscular than average, but they do look disproportionately larger, which would be okay if they had more definition. BUT, I also have BDD and other people have told me that my opinion of my arms is all in my head. Again, it doesn't bother me enough to say, "Oh, damn, I should just regain allllll that lost weight so my arms look smaller by comparison."

17. For those who have had their excess skin removed, are you satisfied with the surgery outcome? I’ve been finding that most surgeries make the body look very boxy and shapeless, which has scared me away from it. Do you think it depends on the surgeon, or is that just the way it comes out regardless? This is a great question. The fact of the matter is we fucked up. We stretched out the skin. It'll never, ever look "normal" again. Ever. And we have to accept that. I didn't realize that, so when I got skin surgery I was really disappointed that my legs looked the same-but-smaller. But I had to realize it was my fault, not the fault of the surgeon. You will almost certainly never look "normal", but you won't look, like, freakish if that's what you're afraid of. The only reason you worry about this is because you're fixated on the body (same as me), but for the average person they honestly can't even tell.

18. Does extreme weight loss have any effect on your hair, positive or negative? Body hair, positive or negative? I wouldn't say it's the weight loss that affects hair but more your dietary change that causes weight loss can also affect your hair. If you're just cutting calories and eating poorly, you'll lose a lot of hair luster and it may fall out. But if you're cutting calories and eating healthy foods, you should notice an improvement in your hair quality.

19. Do you feel colder more often? Does it become harder for you to warm up? Do you sweat less often? I feel colder more often because I'm not covered in a layer of blubber anymore...so I feel colder like any other person would feel cold. It's not harder to warm up, and I sweat less often but I'm still a sweaty person. I just don't sweat aaaaalllll dayyyy lonnnggg like I did when I was obese.

20. What tips did you learn along the way that made it easier that you wish you would have known from the beginning, if any? I think it's mostly a perspective thing: weight loss won't get rid of BDD, eating to lose weight is more important than exercise (but you should exercise for physical fitness), and skin surgery removes excess skin but won't return my body to pre-obesity appearance. Other than that, keeping track and being honest with myself...if I'm eating something, I have to be accountable. I can't say, "It's just a little bit" or "It's not that many calories". I became obese by blindly consuming food, so I can't lose weight by turning a blind eye to some foods I eat.

If this has prompted any of you to ask another question, feel free to do so!

#weight loss #skin surgery #extreme weight loss #loose skin

[timelordthirteen]

Killing Time 21/35

Detective Weaver/Belle French, Explicit

Summary: A Woven Beauty Law & Order-ish AU. Written for Writer’s Month 2019.

Chapter Summary: Belle and Weaver start working their new lead, and relationship status, with some surprising results.

Notes: This was a rough one to get out and I'm sorry it took so long. Here on out there will be two parallel plots: Belle's recovery and relationship with Weaver, and solving the murder of Eloise Gardener. Warnings in this chapter for discussion of PTSD, Belle's attack, and mention of her miscarriage.

Warnings: Miscarriage reference and discussion in some chapters. Please see AO3 for complete warnings and tags.

[AO3]  Previous: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17] [18] [19] [20]

The room smelled like paper and tea, a comforting and warm contrast to the steady rain that was falling outside.

Belle pressed her hands over the front of her skirt and looked around the office of Dr. Archibald Hopper. There was a leather sofa flanked by two bookcases with a set of three black and white prints in thick black frames hanging above it. The shelves were arranged with a mix of artistic pieces and leather bound volumes of medical and legal books, looking so perfectly put together that combined with the rest of the room it all had less the feel of Archie, her friend and colleague, and more last month’s Pottery Barn catalog.

“Nice office,” she said finally.

Archie smiled and took a seat in the high backed leather chair across from her. “Thanks. It beats the south wing of the hospital.”

She laughed lightly, recalling the rather dilapidated old patient rooms that had once made up a sizable bed tower and part of the original hospital where Archie had once worked. While the rest of the building was expanded and renovated over the decades, the south wing had been largely ignored and converted into office space for those who didn’t rate mid century modern credenzas and floor to ceiling glass that overlooked the bay.

“Yeah, it definitely does,” she agreed, glancing around the room. “You’ve certainly moved up in the world.”

“It was those excessive bonuses the city paid me for all the consulting hours you demanded.”

His lips curved, and Belle shook her head. “Yes, well, good to know my budget overages were well spent.”

They shared a laugh, and then Dr. Hopper shifted in his seat, mentally moving from friend and colleague to therapist with no more than an adjustment of his body and the picking up of his pen.

“I’m assuming that what brought you here wasn’t a desire to reminisce about the city's lack of funding for prosecution experts.”

Belle looked down at her hands. “How did you ever guess?”

Archie flashed her a weak smile, and let out a breath. “Belle, I know what happened to you - not the details, of course, but enough - and I know that it’s policy to have a psychological review before returning to work. However -”

“That’s not what this is,” she interrupted. “I mean, yeah, I’ll probably need you to fill out the official form at some point, but I’m already back at work.”

Hopper frowned slightly. “I see.”

Belle glanced up. “Midas knows me well enough to know that I feel better being back at work than taking two weeks of leave.”

“And how do you feel being back at work so soon?”

She gave him a look. “Fine. We’re making some progress on, um, the body that was found in the community garden.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Because -” she paused and licked her lips, spreading her hands over her thighs as her palms started to feel clammy. “Because it’s when I’m not at work that, um, that I don’t think I’m fine.”

He nodded and made some kind of mark on his pad. “What makes you think that you aren’t fine?”

Her head rolled back against the sofa as she blew out a breath between her lips. “Is this how it works? You just turn my answers into questions?”

“How else would you like it to work?”

Belle’s head lifted, her eyebrow arching. “Ha ha.”

Archie smirked and then made another mark on his notepad before setting it aside. “Look, this is like any other doctor’s appointment, right? You have to tell me your symptoms, as it were, so I know what’s going on and where to start. Right?” She nodded, and he continued, “So, what’s been going on?”

“Oh, you know, the usual,” she said, leaning forward to lean her elbows on her knees. “Got attacked by a serial killer in my own apartment, stabbed him in the leg, and now...”

“Now...what?” Hopper coaxed.

She sighed. “I can’t sleep unless my ex-husband is with me. I keep sort of - reliving what happened, but the memories are - are weird. I feel...I don’t know, like tired but jittery all the time? I only feel okay when I’m at work, when I can focus on the case, focus on doing something about what happened, you know?”

She left out that the only other times she seemed to feel normal was when she was playing house with her ex, eating, sleeping, and fucking like nothing had happened in the last two years, like they hadn’t made a mess of everything.

Archie raised his eyebrows when she mentioned Weaver, and folded his hands. “So, you and Detective Weaver are...?”

She shrugged and straightened. “I don’t know what we are. I stayed with him while my apartment was a crime season, but it’s been cleaned and released. I just haven’t gone back. I haven’t wanted to, I guess.”

“Okay, let’s, um, let’s park the relationship stuff for now,” he said. “Tell me - tell me about your memory of what happened. When does it come to you? What do you recall?”

“Usually when I’m alone,” she replied. “Day or night, doesn’t matter. It’s flashes, mostly, feelings. Cold from his - his leather jacket, pressing against my back. I was told that he’d been hiding out on the balcony, waiting until - until I got home.”

Archie swallowed and crossed his arms. “And?”

“Heat,” she continued. “Like my face is flushed, but it’s - it’s from, uh -

She lifted her hair at the front, exposing the red line where her skin was still healing even weeks later. “He hit me and it, um, made it hard to see. Everything was - was red.”

Dr. Hopper pressed his lips together, his eyes narrowing as her hair dropped back over the wound. “You said that your memories were off. Could you tell me more about that?”

She held his gaze for a long moment, as she bit her lip. His eyes softened and the corner of his mouth curved slightly as he gave her a brief nod. The room started to feel too warm, and she leaned forward to take a sip of the water he’d set out for her.

“It’s strange,” Belle said finally, sitting back against the cool leather. Her hands fidgeted with the ring on her right hand. “Remembering, I mean. It’s like - it’s like I’m outside of myself, but not - not in any kind of weird out of body experience way, more like... I don’t know. I don’t know how to describe it.”

Dr. Hopper gave her a small smile and nodded. “Try. Tell me one thing at a time, and take as long as you need.”

She sighed. “I feel - heavy. Like I can’t move my arms or legs no matter how much I want to. There's pressure too, in my head. It’s kinda like a sinus headache, but without being stuffed up at all, if that makes any sense.”

“It does.” Then he shifted in his chair and crossed his legs. “Does your heart rate increase or is it hard to breathe?”

Belle shook her head. “No, nothing like that. I just have this strange feeling, and there’s a flash of light. Then I look down and - and there’s -”

Hopper’s head tilted. “What? What do you see?”

She breathed in and out through her nose as her eyes fixed on the glint of the light as she twisted the white gold band of her ring back and forth. It was a square sapphire in a pale blue color, about a half carat in size. Weaver had given it to her for their first anniversary. She’d worn it nearly every day while they were together, but as soon as she left the divorce attorney’s office, it had been relegated to a small wooden box at the back of her dresser drawer where she kept some of her mother’s old jewelry. The first night they’d retrieved her things from her apartment, she’d grabbed it without thinking as she was rummaging for some socks.

“Belle, what do you see?” Dr. Hopper repeated.

Belle swallowed and looked up, meeting his eyes. “Blood.”

Hopper nodded, pressing his lips together again as his pen tapped against the pad next to him. It was an action she’d seen from him often when he’d consulted on a case, usually when he was thinking through his response to a question.

“Yours or - or his?”

“Both,” she said quickly, the hitch in his voice making hers waver as well.

He gave her a sympathetic look and took a breath before he asked his next question. “And, um, where is the blood?”

She breathed out again, slowly and took another swallow of water. “On my hands.” She set the drink down and looked down at her palms, blinking a few times as the image of the red, dripping stains flashed into her mind. “My blouse. The counter. The floor.”

Then she took another breath. “And sometimes it’s um -”

Dr. Hopper’s head tilted. “It’s what?”

Belle blinked hard. “Um, on my - my legs.”

“Why only sometimes?”

She shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment as she tried to force the image away. “Don’t know.”

The slight shift in Archie’s expression revealed he didn’t believe her, but he seemed willing to let it go for now, and she sighed again.

“Let’s go back to your relationship with Detective Weaver.”

She frowned. “Why?”

Dr. Hopper sat back, crossing his legs, and smiled. “I suspect some of this starts a little further back than Jack Branson.”

Belle huffed and shook her head. “It doesn’t. And you already know the story. We were married, then we got divorced.”

“And?”

“And?” She raised her eyebrows and held Archie’s gaze. “What?”

“And now you’re...?”

There was a low throb starting in her head as she pulled at her ring again, sliding it over her knuckle until it spun freely around her finger. “I told you, I don’t know what we are, not right now.”

“Can you tell me what you’d like to be?”

“No.” Then she sighed. “I let things go too far while we were working on the case, and before you ask, you know exactly what I mean by ‘too far’ Mr. I Accidentally Screwed the Waitress Who Was Also a Witness.”

Archie’s face flushed, and Belle flashed him a brief smile. His affair with Ruby had been problematic at the time, and it had forced him to step back from his role as an expert consultant. Now that they’d been together for a couple of years, it was all water under the bridge, and the switch back to private practice was overall better for everyone. She sighed. “Now everything is...I don’t know. It’s good, but it’s also temporary, so I’m trying not to get complacent or get used to anything, you know?”

Hopper shifted in his seat, his lips pursing for a moment. “Why does it have to be temporary?”

“Because we’re divorced,” she answered flatly.

“Why?”

Belle pushed her ring back on her finger and paused. “Why what? Why are we divorced?” Dr. Hopper’s head tilted again, and she gave him an annoyed glare. “I’m not dredging up our marital issues, Arch. I’ve been there, done that.”

“Have you?” he asked. “Been there, done that?”

She made a face. “Well not like this, obviously, but I think I’ve rehashed it enough in my head for ten therapists, thanks.”

Archie chuckled at that and shook his head. “Fair enough. Though I do get the impression there’s a piece I’m missing here.”

“How do you mean?” She folded her arms over her middle and mirrored Archie by crossing her legs.

He sat forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “You and Ian were good together, Belle. We all saw that. I have to admit that when I heard you two were splitting up, it was - it was quite a shock.”

Belle looked away as he spoke, clenching her jaw as she swallowed against the lump in her throat. She’d heard the same statements from others before, during, and immediately after the divorce. Everyone thought they were so perfect together, but of course none of them had to live with a reticent police detective who didn’t know how to let anyone in. She always thought he’d change, that he’d soften with time, open up more the longer they were together. The night he chose a murder over her and their baby, she’d realized she’d been wrong.

“Yeah,” she said softly. “It was to me too.”

Hopper pursed his lips again and watched her as she tugged on her ring again, slipping it over her knuckle to spin it around her fingertip. She paused to wipe at her eye, and he sat back with another heavy sigh.

“Belle -”

“I had a miscarriage.”

Archie blinked and frowned at the words she’d blurted out. “You - what?”

He licked his lips as his mind grasped for words. Confusion and shock had made him lose his usual quiet coherence, and he leaned forward again. “I’m sorry, I’m just - I’m trying to understand. Was this after - after your attack, or -?”

“No,” Belle said quickly. She met Dr. Hopper’s eyes, her stare firm in spite of the tear that was trickling over her cheek. “No, it was - before. It’s why - why we divorced.”

“Okay,” he breathed. “So -”

She felt her face heat as her vision blurred. There was a faint ringing in her ears that made her shake her head, sending a volley of tears down her face. She was vaguely aware of the tissue box sliding closer, pushed by Dr. Hopper, when she squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, and then lurched forward. Her feet stumbled over each other, her shoe coming loose as she stood and tried to walk around the coffee table that was between her and Archie. He said her name as she moved, one hand stretched out in front of her to catch the bathroom door and push it open while the other was pressed to her mouth.

Belle sniffled again, wiping at her nose with the battered tissue before tossing it in the trash can and exiting the small bathroom.

Archie stood up quickly. “Are you alright?”

She nodded and blew out a breath. “Yeah.”

She was surprised how true it felt in spite of how upset she’d been a few minutes ago. It had been a long time since she’d said the words out loud, and once she had it was like the dam had broken, flooding her body with emotions she’d kept at bay for over two years. In hindsight, the miscarriage had bled into the situation with Ian, leaving everything a jumbled mess well before her encounter with Jack.

Archie was right.

“So, Arch, how fucked up am I?” she asked, letting out a humorless laugh.

Dr. Hopper sighed and came closer, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder reassuringly. “No more so than any of the rest of us.”

She shook her head. “I doubt that.”

“Belle, what’s happening to you is normal,” he started. “You were physically attacked in your own home, by a man whose pathology I can’t even fathom right now. Having some PTSD from that is completely expected. Everything else on top of that...? I can’t imagine what all you’ve been through.”

She breathed out, feeling a strange sort of relief at his words. “Yeah.”

“I think,” Archie started, cautiously, “that it would be a good idea for you to keep talking about this.”

“With you?” She blinked up at him, her expression pulled as the steady pulse of a headache grew.

He shrugged. “With whomever you like, whoever you feel comfortable talk to. That’s the only way this is going to get better.”

Belle reached up and pushed her fingers into her hair, rubbing at her scalp. “I don’t think I’d want to talk to anyone else, if that’s okay.”

His mouth curved slightly. “Of course it is. Whatever I can do to help, Belle.”

Belle checked her makeup in the mirror one last time and ran a hand through her hair, trying to smooth it into place. She looked passable, if a bit tired, but then that had been her almost perpetual state since the case had started. Her heels thudded softly on the carpet as she made her way back to her office, her gait stuttering briefly when she spied Weaver sitting at the conference table.

Shit.

She’d been hoping he was still at the station following up on Nick Branson’s former employer in Las Vegas. When she’d made the appointment with Dr. Hopper, she’d had every intention of telling Weaver that she was going, but in the end every moment that might have been right, wasn’t. He’d be supportive, of course, he had been when she’d first mentioned it a week ago, and their history with Archie had only raised the psychologist’s esteem in his eyes. Yet she’d held back that morning when he’d asked her what she was going to get up to while he was tiring his eyes out at a computer screen.

She let out a steadying breath and pushed open the door to the office.

Weaver twisted and looked over his shoulder at her, smiling. “Hey.”

“Hey,” she said, brightly, hurrying over to her desk to set her purse down.

“I was surprised you weren’t here when I got back.”

“Oh, I ran a quick errand after lunch.” She shrugged and looked up at him, knowing full well by the way his eyes narrowed and his head tilted slightly that he didn’t quite believe her. “Find anything?”

“Couple addresses,” he replied. “Some names to follow up on. The construction company Branson worked for went out of business a couple of years ago, but I have contact information for the holding company that took over its assets.”

“Well, that’s something.”

“I guess.” Then he frowned slightly, and pushed back from the table, twisting to face her. “Are you okay?”

Belle sighed and busied herself with sorting through some papers on her desk. “Yeah, fine. Why?”

His expression was inscrutable as he stood and came to stand in front of her desk. “I don’t think we’re going to get much more done today, if you want to take off early.”

She glanced up at him. “Why would I do that?”

Weaver shrugged. “You’re tired.”

She sighed again and straightened, knowing from his flat tone that he hadn’t believed her, but he was still offering her a way out anyway. It annoyed her and she wasn’t sure why. “Well it’s been a long...month.”

He gave a slight nod as his lips pressed together. “Yeah, and we worked a lot of weekends in the last little while. You need some down time.

She shot him a look. “I’m fine, Ian.”

He gave her a look and moved around the side of the desk until he was next to her. “Belle, you look absolutely shattered.” Then he took hold of her hand and started tugging her away from her work. “Come on.”

“Ian...” She pulled her hand away and crossed her arms.

He turned on his heel and faced her. “Belle...”

They stood for a moment, staring at each other with equal exasperation, until Belle’s shoulders sagged. She was tired, that went without saying, both from her appointment with Archie and the weeks and months that had preceded it. There was a standard level of fatigue that she’d dealt with her whole career, brought on by long days in court, and longer nights of composing motion documents and briefs. But this was new. This was a less familiar bone deep weariness that weighed her whole body down, pulling her to the Earth. It didn’t feel like being grounded so much as it felt like being drowned, sucked down under the dark waves and suffocated.

Belle’s head dropped as she exhaled. “I went to talk to Archie after I left Midas’s office.”

Weaver seemed to startle a bit at her words, shifting his stance as his eyes went wide. “Okay...and?”

“And, it was... a lot.” She looked up and blinked almost dazedly.

He moved closer, taking the kind of slow steps one might when they were approaching a skittish cat. When he came within arm's length, she reached for him, all but grabbing the front of his white shirt as he closed the distance between them. She turned, falling against him as he moved to hold her, and buried her face in his chest.

"You sure you're all right?"

She inhaled and exhaled slowly, breathing in his warm, earthy scent. “Yeah,” she replied, slightly muffled. He made a grunting noise, and she looked up. “What?”

One of his eyebrows lifted slightly. “Let’s go home.” She stiffened and he squeezed her against him. “You can take a hot bath, I’ll make the scallops I picked up on my way back form the station, and -”

“You got fresh scallops?”

His lips quirked as her eyes widened hopefully. “You won’t know until you get home.”

Belle pulled back and swatted at his chest. “You don’t play fair.”

He laughed softly, and she shook her head, knowing that what he was suggesting was for her own good. They both needed a break, and the lull while they waited for courts and county clerks to process a pile of paperwork and red tape might just be the thing.

“Yeah, okay. I can write up the rest of the records requests on my laptop.”

“That’s the spirit,” he said, dryly, dropping his arms and taking a step back. “Just not in the bath this time, not after what happened with your iPad.”

She slung her purse strap over her shoulder and shot him a glare with significantly less venom than usual. “Shut up.”

Weaver pulled open the office door, still smirking, and held it for her as she stepped through into the hallway. “Yes, dear.”

#rumbelle #rumbelle fic #woven beauty #woven beauty fic #killing time #fic #my woven beauty fic #cw miscarriage

[iamnotoriginalphil]

Lessons in Love (Bucky x Reader) - Part 19

Synopsis: It’s finally time for Bucky to come clean to you.

Words: 2884

Warnings: mentions of smut, swearing

Part 1    Part 2    Part 3    Part 4   Part 5    Part 6    Part 7    Part 8    Part 9    Part 10    Part 11     Part 12    Part 13    Part 14    Part 15   Part 16   Part 17   Part 18

You were sitting on the worn material of your old couch, your laptop resting on top of your crossed legs. You had too many assignments due in a short space of time and were working hard to get everything done. Between work and being there for Bucky you’d been putting things off, leaving you racing to catch up with everything you’d left by the wayside.

A knock sounded at the door.

“Mel,” you shouted into the apartment.

Silence greeted you. The knock sounded again. You grumbled, pushing your laptop from your lap and getting up from the couch. You stretched your arms above your head, working the kinks out of your back. Your muscles protested.

You pulled open the door, ready to tell whoever it was to go away. A grim looking Bucky pushed past you into the apartment. You shut the door, leaning back against it to watch him. He was rifling through a battered shoebox, looking through papers.

“Hey.”

He glanced up, pushing his hair out of his face. He gave you a quick flash of a smile and butterflies erupted in your stomach. You wasn’t used to the smiles yet. They always took your heart by surprise.

“I know you’re still hesitant,” he said, “and I know you don’t really believe that I love you.”

“Bucky, it’s not that,” you said.

“Yes it is doll, and it’s okay. I didn’t give you any reason to think I did love you. That I do love you.”

“Where is all this coming from?”

“It came up with my therapist,” he said, waving it off, “but I have the perfect way of showing you, doll. The best way of showing you.”

“Are you about to share your feelings with me?” You couldn’t stop the wry smirk growing on your face.

“Shut up,” he growled but you could hear the smile in his voice.

You sat down on the sofa again, moving your computer to the coffee table to give him room. He sat next to you, shoving the box into your hands. You looked down at it then back up at him.

“What’s this?” you asked.

“It’s pretty self explanatory,” he said, “I can’t be here while you read it all.”

“Wait, what?”

He already had his hand on the door by the time you turned to look at him. You shifted the box off your lap to keep from tipping it over as you got up.

“They’re in order from earliest. Start from the nice paper.”

He disappeared without any further explanation. You were left gaping at the closed door, not really understanding what was being asked of you. You looked down at the box again, pulling it towards you. You ran your fingers over the papers shoved in, familiar scrawl covering the front. You shuffled through them, trying to find the “nice paper”.

You pulled out a closed envelope on heavy paper. It felt expensive, just like the same stuff you used for your wedding invites. Your father had been so excited he’d insisted on the best, paying for everything. He must regret that these days.

You thumbed the envelope open, pulling out a sheet of paper. The pen was dark, almost stabbing at the paper. If it hadn’t been as heavy as it was you were sure there would be tears all through it. You’d seen the same on the notes he wrote on his manuscript. He was a very emotive writer.

Steve

I did it again. You always told me off every time I’d bring a new girl home and leave her the minute I was done fucking her. You kept talking about emotions and connection and you never understood it was only ever about sex. If I wanted a girlfriend then I’d go get one. That’s not what I want.

That doesn’t stop me from realising how disappointed you’d be in me for doing it. But every single day without you I fall further from your influence. If I keep doing it then I can imagine your voice in my head, telling me off. And this girl was so fucking hot.

The things she let me do to her, they would make you blush. Or act like you were from the fucking 1930s. I know I have a rule; never more than once, but this girl could change that. I could do the no strings attached thing. No feelings just fucking. And I know that’s not what you meant when you said making a connection but it would stop me having to find a new girl every night.

Or not.

Don’t give me that look. I can have fun. And what else am I going to do when you’re not here to tell me not to?

You always were my moral compass.

You felt your heart in your throat, beating hard and fast. Whatever you’d been expecting it wasn’t that. You ran your fingers over the words, wondering if you were the girl he was writing about. A sick part of you hoped you were.

Steve

You’ll never guess who showed up in my class. Right there, at the back of the hall, watching me with those eyes that made me hard just glancing at her. She was watching me, all innocent, barely able to look for more than a second. If there hadn’t been a room full of people I would have thrown her to the floor and eaten her up. I wanted to even with all the people.

And then I found her at the bar.

She turned me down.

SHE TURNED ME DOWN

What kind of bitch has mind blowing sex and then says no the next time it’s on offer?

Maybe’s she’s worried about the moral implication of fucking her teacher. I know I should be as well, but it doesn’t seem to matter. Nothing matters. Not really. Not when we’re all going to die. Not when there isn’t a God to look out for us and make sure the good people are rewarded and the bad people are punished. Not in a world where I live and you don’t.

I miss you.

You would make this all make sense.

You tore into the next letter, wanting to know what was going on. You’d never had this kind of insight into his feelings. To think these had been sitting in his apartment the entire time, that he had taken the time to sit down and write about you, it was more than you could comprehend. You hadn’t thought you’d made any kind of an impact on him. Not at that time, at least.

Steve

She tired to drop out of my fucking class. She was in that fucking office talking to fucking Gladys about dropping out of my fucking class.

I might have overreacted.

You would say I overreacted.

I kept her back after class and took her to my office and fucked her. I told her if she dropped out there would be consequences. I told her not to disobey me.

Does that make me an asshole?

It doesn’t, doesn’t it?

You never had a problem telling me I was an asshole. I think I need that again. Because she sure as hell won’t. She’ll let me use her up and throw her away when I’m done, all for a good fuck.

I shouldn’t do this.

I shouldn’t fuck someone else’s life up just because my life is fucked up.

She deserves better than that.

Right?

You took a shuddering breath, your hand already reaching for the next letter.

Steve

She stormed into my office, swearing at me and accusing me of using her. She was like an angel blazing with hellfire, come to destroy me. I couldn’t take my eyes off her.

And so I fucked her.

A quickie before class where anybody could hear. It was so fucking hot.

Not that you were ever an exhibitionist. But the thought of people hearing the noises she was making while I was fucking her made me so fucking hard. It still does.

Fuck.

She’s so fucking hot.

You’d hate me Steve. You’d hate the person I’m becoming. I think I might hate him too.

I’m not the same without you.

I’m worse.

I’m so fucking bad without you.

A tear dropped on the page, making the ink bleed. You touched it, wanting to wipe it away but scared of ruining it more. You put it aside, waiting for it to dry.

Steve

I never expected to see this girl in my apartment again, but she looks so fucking hot spread out, naked on my sofa. I can still smell her on my sheets. I can imagine her in my shower every morning.

I watch her in class, taking notes. She gets this wrinkle between her eyes when she’s concentrating and her tongue is clamped between her teeth. It makes me want to take my teeth to her skin.

Her skin is softer than anything I’ve felt before.

Don’t take this to mean my heart is getting involved. It’s purely fucking. She just makes me feel like a teenage boy who has just discovered sex. She makes me want to be inside of her every minute of every day.

You snorted. Of course that’s what he was thinking about.

Steve

She blew me under my desk while I was talking to another student. I think I’m in love.

Don’t take that seriously.

But fuck me, where did this girl come from? I didn’t even realise that was something I would want until she had my dick in her mouth and I had to have a whole conversation about something I didn’t care about with a silly child who insisted on batting her eyelashes at me.

Who wants an innocent child when I could have a sex goddess?

I’ve never cum so hard in my life.

Stop blushing. And stop giving me that look! I can’t help finding her the sexiest fucking woman alive.

You rolled your eyes.

Steve

I’m going to fucking KILL Sam. How does he have the timing of a blundering child with no concept of privacy?

And on the topic of privacy. How dare that girl go snooping around my apartment? She had no right. She makes me so mad.

Which in turn makes me turned on.

I can hate fuck her and it’s so fucking satisfying. I like seeing the bruises I leave. It reminds me she is mine.

And she is mine.

I don’t share. You know that. I’ve never played well with others.

Sometimes he acted like such a spoiled brat.

Steve

SHE’S FUCKING MARRIED

SHE HAS A FUCKING HUSBAND

Well, an ex-husband.

But that’s more than she ever told me.

It didn’t help that it was the anniversary, it didn’t help I was hung over and my head was killing me, but her ex-husband showed up and I had to fucking deal with him. Who the fuck doesn’t tell someone they’re sleeping with they have an ex-husband?

How dare she keep that from me?

She can be such a bitch. She didn’t even act like it was a big deal. It was a big fucking deal. It’s a big deal, right?

You would never let me get this worked up by a silly little girl. You have always been so good at helping keep my head screwed on right.

I wish I could talk to you.

It was like he could never see the hypocrisy of his actions.

Steve

She’s trying to take care of me. I disappear or a week, drinking my liver to death and she comes to fucking check up on me. She better not be reading more into what is happening. Because if she thinks feelings are getting involved she’s stupider than I thought.

I don’t need her taking care of me. And I don’t want her taking care of me.

Why can’t she leave me alone when I obviously don’t want her there? If I don’t call her for a week why the fuck would she come here? It’s not rocket science to realise I don’t want her.

She forced me to eat.

She called Sam to come look after me.

I’m not a fucking child that needs to be taken care of. She had no right to call Sam or to let him in. She has no right to act like she has a place in my life. It’s just sex. No feelings.

There is never going to be any feelings.

You let out a wet chuckle. Sometimes he could be such an ass. Sometimes he could be so oblivious.

Steve

I miss you.

The ink had run over the paper, dried and then dried again. You sniffed, laying that one aside.

Steve

She’s sleeping beside me right now. Her face while she sleeps is wiped clean. She’s not smiling, or frowning, or arguing. She’s a blank page, waiting for the first moment of consciousness to write a word.

She’s beautiful.

Not that she isn’t beautiful when she’s smiling, or frowning, or arguing. She’s always beautiful. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone more beautiful. Not even you. Even though I used to tell you that you looked like one of those Renaissance paintings of an angel.

I wish you could see her.

She’s staying with me for the moment. Her asshole of an ex-husband showed up and tried to force her to get back together with him. She’s not safe in her place anymore. Not with him hanging around.

And I’ll be damned if I let anything happen to her.

I can’t believe she married that asshole. I have no clue what she saw in him. All he wants is to control her and she let him, she let him control her for years.

I can’t let her out of my sight. He will ambush her if I do. I don’t trust him not to hurt her, or to convince her to got back to him. I don’t trust him anywhere near her.

She’s too naive for her own good.

I have to protect her. You would. You protect everyone.

I couldn’t even protect you.

I can’t afford to fuck up again.

You wiped at your eyes, not wanting any more tears to fall. You didn’t want to mess up the words. You wanted to be able to read them again, later, when you might doubt how much he cared about you.

Steve

She aced her finals.

She’s so smart.

I don’t think she realises it.

I wish I could show her.

You shook your head at that.

Steve

She’s gone.

SHE’S GONE

she’sgoneshe’sgoneshe’sgoneshe’sgoneshe’sgoneshe’sgoneshe’sgoneshe’sgoneshe’sgoneshe’sgoneshe’sgone

Apparently she’s desperate for someone to fall in love with her. She wants emotions with her fucking. She wants more than just sex.

SHE’S A FUCKING IDIOT

Life isn’t a fairytale.

Your laugh came out more like a sob.

Steve

I love her.

I love her and I miss her.

And I miss you.

But mostly I love her.

You put the letter down, running your fingers over the words scrawled messily on the note paper. You wiped at your eyes again, trying to stop the tears that were running down your cheeks.

“Oh Bucky,” you whispered to yourself.

You pulled out the last letter, dated from that morning.

Steve

I can already see your insufferably grinning face. You always were right, weren’t you? And you always had to let me know. I just didn’t expect you to be right from beyond the grave.

She loves me too. God knows why. She shouldn’t. I haven’t been nice to her. I haven’t been good to her. If my mother knew how I’d been treating this poor girl she would kick my ass to the West Coast and back. She’d be more disappointed than you. Which is saying a lot. You always knew how to make me disappointed in myself.

I called her and she came and rescued me. She didn’t have to. In fact, I wouldn’t have blamed her if she hadn’t. But she still cared. Who the fuck still cares for someone after being treated the way I treated her?

There must be something wrong with her.

There’s no other explanation for someone loving me.

I always thought there was something wrong with you for loving me.

My therapist would say this is a classic example of negative self talk that leads to my low self worth and a need to distance myself from everyone I care about. No one can hurt me if I keep them at arm’s length.

He’s helping with all that.

And so is she.

I’m not used to having someone so wholly supportive and yet so unwilling to put up with my bullshit. Except for you. She keeps my heard screwed on tight now that you’re gone.

She reminds me every day that sometimes opening up is worth it. If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have her. She would have walked out of my life and I never would have been able to put myself back together again.

You would like her.

She reminds me of you. In all the best ways.

I love her more than I though it was possible to love someone.

And because of her, I think everything is going to be okay.

Tags: @libellule2001 @sebs-daybreak @grim-adventures58 @autty0314

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barns x reader #bucky barnes imagine #lessons in love

[mypassionfortrash]

Do More of What Scares You (Part 14)

You and Roger head to Munich to join the rest of Queen in the studio. You have some big news to share, but how will Roger's bandmates react?

💡Catch up: 1&2 ~ 3&4 ~ 5&6 ~ 7&8&9 ~ 10&11 ~ 12 ~ 13💡

Notes: Last chapter! Thank you so much for reading. If you like this series then please, reblog it! I’ve been really disheartened by the lack of response to these updates because of Tumblr’s new algorithm burying them, so now more than ever, it’d be amazing if you could share this!

Tags: @jennyggggrrr & @sarahgurl09

Deacy slumped over the sofa at the back of the mixing room. He had given Brian some suggestions about how to play his solo. But, true to form, the guitarist was having none of it. He stood in the middle of the live room; a thick panel of glass divided him from his bandmates, something for which John was grateful whenever he decided to share a thought that might rile Brian up.

“You don’t know what you’re fucking talking about, John,” Brian seethed through gritted teeth, before demonstrating his illustrious idea one more time for his bandmates. “Is this good enough for you?”

“Can’t we all just calm down?” Freddie groaned, sparking up another cigarette. Then he poured himself yet another measure of vodka. “I don’t see why any of us are so bothered about this. We know the album’s never going to happen. Fuck, we’re a member down already. Here, have a drink, Deacy.”

Mack, the band’s producer, sat hunched over the mixing desk, pinching the bridge of his nose. Between Freddie’s drinking and partying, and Brian and Deacy’s disputes, he couldn’t see an end to this album either - with Freddie, that much he could agree. But to add to his troubles, Jim had refused to confirm whether Roger would be returning to play drums. And the label point-blank declined to finance a session artist. “This would be so much easier if we have a drum track to go off of,” he sighed.

No one heard, of course. They were much too busy throwing themselves into yet another debate to care.

“All I’m saying is that you’ve had a few too many,” Deacy reasoned with Freddie.

“Oh, don’t be such a bore, Deacy.”

Deacy’s eyes shot from Freddie to the omnipresent personal assistant lounging in the doorway.

Paul Prenter was inclined to clock watch when Queen were in the studio. Especially in Munich, which offered all the pleasures a gay man in the 80’s could dream of. He eagerly anticipated opening time for such establishments and would routinely haul Freddie away from the studio, usually at the worst times.

Deacy jabbed a finger in Paul’s direction. “Maybe we’ll get some bloody work done when you and that buggered off to your clubs.”

Paul piped up: “I don’t see how you and Brian-”

“For goodness sake, will you just shut up!” Brian and Deacy screamed in unison.

Paul, sufficiently startled, turned towards the door with Freddie in tow.

The pair stopped in their tracks. 

Freddie’s eyes tripled in size. “Where the bloody hell have you been?!” He demanded, taking in the sight of you and Roger. His moustache twitched for a moment before he pulled you both into a bone-crushing embrace. “I’ve been worried sick.” Dragging you both into the centre of the mixing room, he exclaimed: “Look what the cat dragged in! Brian! Look! Roger’s back! He worked things out with the girl! Come! Come through!”

You and Roger stood sheepishly in the centre of the room as his bandmates gathered around. 

But there was something off about the elated response. Brian wasn’t joining in. He barely said a word, apart from a courteous hug.

Peering through the gaggle, you watched Brian as he sat down on the sofa. “What’s the matter?”

He looked up at you. “Nothing, it’s nothing.”

Silence fell over the room as soon as he spoke. The realisation that something was drastically off hit an oblivious Roger like a ton of bricks. He pursed his lips together gazing around at his bandmates. “Is there something you aren’t telling me?”

His three best friends traded uneasy looks.

“Is this about me bailing on you? Because I’m-”

“Sit down, Rog,” Brian said, patting the seat next to him.

You perched on the armrest next to Roger, draping your arm over his shoulders. Freddie and Deacy completed the circle.

“We have some news,” Deacy started.

Roger’s shoulders stiffened beneath your touch. His entire body grew rigid. “Are we done?” he asked in a pitiful voice.

“Not completely,” Brian said. “We just think that after the next tour, it might be time to stop.”

“What he means is stop touring,” Freddie clarified.

“We’ll keep recording albums,” Deacy added.

Brian turned to Roger; his eyes were brimming with concern. “We’ll always be Queen. But touring, it’s just not good for us anymore. There are far too many distractions. You of all people should know that.”

“I take it you mean me?” Paul sulked from the doorway, shrouded in a plume of cigarette smoke.

“Oh, fuck off!” Brian spat.

“Can’t you see we’re having a private conversation, here?” Freddie fizzed, knocking everyone in the room for six. “You’ve done nothing but stir the pot since the day we arrived here. Your services aren’t required anymore.”

“You can’t just fire me!”

“Get out!”

Mack got to his feet and calmly escorted a seething Paul Prenter from the room, leaving you alone with the four members of Queen in stunned silence.

“Well?” Deacy pressed.

“Well, what?” Roger shrugged, a smirk twinkling at the corners of his lips.

“What do you think about that?” Brian urged.

Roger finally let himself smile, broad and unabashed. “I’m just glad Freddie’s seen sense if I’m honest.”

“Not Paul, dear. The band!” Freddie took a drag of his cigarette and exhaled. “What do you think about the band!”

“Oh, come off it! I know what you mean! It’s an excellent idea.”

Freddie, Brian and Deacy exchanged bewildered looks before Freddie piped up: “what has she done to you?”

You and Roger glanced at each other, simpering like a couple of loved up teenagers, while everyone else tried to figure out the reason behind Roger’s sudden shift in attitude.

“Should we tell them?” Roger proposed, bumping you with his shoulder.

“I think we should.”

“Okay,” he began, sitting up straight, and delicately placing his hands on his thighs. “We have some news.”

His bandmates leaned in, eagerly anticipating the big reveal.

“This fine young lady and I went galavanting all over Europe to sort ourselves out for a month, and I’m sorry I haven’t been a good friend or a good bandmate. But I’m better now. And we’re stronger than we ever were. We worked everything out and…”

You groaned. “What Roger means to tell you is,” you began, holding up your left hand to show them your news, “we’re getting married! And we hope you’ll all be there.”

The three men erupted. They shook Roger’s shoulders, and patted him on the back in congratulations and forgiveness. Brian sauntered over to the drinks cabinet and pulled out a bottle of Moët. Deacy and Roger followed him, leaving you with Freddie, who was positively vibrating with joy.

“Here, let me get a better look at this!” Freddie smiled, grabbing your hand. He eyed the gigantic ruby and diamond ring with adoration. “Oh, it’s gorgeous! I’m astounded you can even lift your hand, darling. It looks heavy! Did he choose this?!”

“Well, no, actually,” you grinned.

“Of course, he didn’t. He doesn’t have any taste, does he? Now, you must tell me everything,” he babbled, delivering a swat to your thigh. “How did it happen?”

You lolled your head to the side, remembering that moment. That day, when the autumn sun beat down over sprawling golden landscapes somewhere close to Cannes. You and Roger had hired a poppy red Jaguar that would get you from A to B on your adventures. Only, it began to belch out rings of acrid smoke from its exhaust as you neared the city. Soon the electrics and power steering went, ploughing you into the edge of the road. You could have argued; you remembered with a smirk just how close you were to a screaming match with Roger. But the pair of you stepped back from the brink, stamping out that fire before it took hold. The way he looked at you as you stood at the roadside; in a white linen dress and your hair in a pillar box red scarf that matched your cheeks in your flustered state. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, draping his jacket over your shoulders to keep you warm as dusk set in.

To him, you were the most beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes on. And all he wanted was to make it work. He was utterly disarmed. And he couldn’t resist. The words just tumbled from his lips as you danced at the side of the road to keep the chill at bay, your thumb outstretched, appealing to the better nature of passersby. He couldn’t help himself. “Will you marry me?”

“So that’s how it happened,” you giggled, taking in Freddie’s enthralled expression.

“I can’t believe that’s Roger!” he cooed. “Who’d have thought someone would finally make an honest man out of him! Who’d have thought someone would want to, for that matter!”

“He’s not all bad,” you mused, watching as Roger excitedly retold his side of the story to Brian and Deacy. He bobbed up and down with every word. His smile was so broad that his eyes narrowed and his red, rosy cheeks puffed out. “He’s perfect for me,” you said, glancing at Freddie.

“I just have one small question about all of this…”

Freddie had your full attention now.

“What happened with your job and everything? Didn’t you tell your friends where you were going? Weren’t you worried?”

“No.”

“No?!”

“I never worried once.”

Freddie pursed his lips together, shuffling in his seat. “You’re a braver woman than I am.”

“I remember before I met Roger,” you began, scooting over into Freddie’s arms, “I used to get this horrible rushing in my ears. Tunnel vision. My legs would feel like jelly. Any time I left the house, let alone did anything drastically life-changing. Anything that scared me in the least bit.”

“What about now, my dear?” Freddie asked, stroking your hair.

“It hasn’t happened in a month. I’ve gone from feeling that every single day of my adult life, to just being happy. Touchwood it won’t come back - it probably will at some point. But I think I’m in a better place to deal with it, you know?”

“And what about when you came home? After you left America? I’ve missed out on so much.”

“That was awful.”

“Roger was a nightmare to be around that entire time, by the way.”

“I think he still owes you an apology for that.”

“I’ll let it lie. For now.”

“I can’t believe I’m getting married.”

Freddie chuckled. “I’m going to have to find myself a nice man to be my plus one, aren’t I?”

“If you need any tips, from someone who’s got one, you only have to ask.”

“Oh, you!” Freddie scolded as he squeezed you tightly. The pair of you watching Roger from your spot on the sofa in the back of the room.

———————————————————————

The grounds of Garden Lodge bustled. Neat little rows of white chairs sat out on the lawn for a party of no more than 20 people; arches of sunflowers formed an aisle between the two groups of ten. The guests were busy quaffing as much champagne as they could handle. It was only eight in the morning - an ungodly hour for a wedding at the best of times - but some guests more than others didn’t hold much hope of the wedding happening. And if it did, a few took bets on the marriage not lasting more than a year.

Roger, Deacy and Brian stood huddled together at the makeshift altar, dressed in morning suits and nervously blathering away. “What if she gets cold feet?” Deacy said, earning him a glare from Brian.

The band had to be a well-oiled machine on today of all days. Their schedule allowed no margin for error. They had to be at Knebworth for their soundcheck at one o’clock. Sharp. Today was Queen’s final live show, after all.

“Why would you say something like that?” Roger asked, instantly becoming pale and snatching Deacy’s hip flask right from his hands. He took a swig. “She’s going to be here. Fred’ll see to it. I know he will.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Brian reassured.

Roger offered his bandmates the hip flask; his mouth hung slightly open, and his eyes just as wide. Both politely declined. He needed it more than they did.

Upstairs, in Freddie’s bedroom, you stared at yourself in the full-length mirror. Three men - Peter, Freddie and his partner, Jim, all sat at the edge of the bed, positively beaming at the sight of you. You turned to them, running your hands over the delicate swathes of deep damson lace. “What do you think?”

“It’s very unusual!” Freddie cooed, clasping his hands underneath his chin.

You whined, throwing your arms down by your sides, the sinking in your stomach growing increasingly apparent. “I knew it! I look fucking awful. Today of all days.”

“I don’t think that’s what Freddie meant,” Jim reassured, glaring at Freddie. “Did you?”

“If you’d have let me finish, Negative Nelly, I would have told you I liked the colour,” Freddie explained, rising to his feet and grabbing your hands. He pressed his nose to your own, making you giggle. “Because it’s not virgin white. You look exquisite.”

You looked at Peter. He had been Queen’s wardrobe mistress for years when they toured; you trusted him to help you find the right dress. He seemed pleased with his choice, smiling sweetly at you. “Is it sitting right?” you asked him.

Peter stood up and fixed the train at the back of your skirt. With great care, he spread the layers of fabric out behind you on the floor. “Now it is, but remember, you can’t sit down for the next hour or so. You don’t want the fabric to wrinkle.”

“Okay. Jim, how’s my hair?”

“What are you worrying about your hair for? Roger’s probably going to mess it up in about an hour anyway!”

You sighed, seeing reason beyond all of your fretting. “You’re right. You’re right.” Deep breaths. Today of all days, you weren’t prepared to let doubt and self-sabotage be a feature of your day. You shuffled over to the window to catch a glimpse of your husband-to-be.

You had agreed on a low-key wedding. Just your friends. But even at that, with only twenty people waiting for you downstairs, it felt like too much. It made your heart race.

In the thick of it all, the flowers, pomp and ceremony, was Roger. You had never seen him so happy. Sure, he looked pale, and he was clutching a hip flask for dear life. But he seemed like he was on another level of happiness that you never thought was possible.

Your head spun as you realised your body was fighting for every breath it took.

“Someone fetch her a drink! Joe, darling,” Freddie called, speeding out of the room and into the landing. “Joe! Can you bring our lovely bride some more champagne, dear?”

Peter and Jim fussed over you at the window. A pair of supportive friends that you never in your wildest dreams imagined you would have. You looked down at Alex, Katie and Molly, sour-faced and sandwiched between their boring looking boyfriends. They stuck out like sore thumbs for being the most bland guests there. They didn’t even want to be there. You had known them for years; longer than anyone else and yet, they were the ones who tried to put you off marrying Roger for the whole year between your engagement and your big day. By rights, they should’ve been the ones holding your hand today. But they couldn’t see past their own boring worlds and their own uneventful lives to go after something better. Something exciting.

At least you had the inhabitants of Garden Lodge - cats included - for moral support.

Peter gently took your hand and guided you towards the edge of the bed. “I’m allowing you to sit down because I can’t have you passing out on us. Roger would kill us,” he explained, forcing you to crack a smile.

Freddie returned with Joe - the youngest of the Garden Lodge Four. He cooked and looked after all of the alcohol that flowed freely through the premises. He even made your wedding cake - complete with miniature versions of you and Roger in a little red Jag. “Here, drink! We’ve got about twenty bottles of the good stuff to get through,” he urged, thrusting a glass into your trembling hand.

“Better not tell Roger that - he’s got a show to play!” Jim joked.

You quickly drained it, feeling that golden liquid imbuing you with renewed verve. “Thank you.”

“Better?” Jim asked.

“Much, much better.”

“If it makes you feel even better,” Joe began, whispering to you, “I’ve fed Roger a whole bottle. Brian and John are going to have to prop him up.”

You couldn’t hold back your laugh; it shook your whole body with happiness and echoed through the room, startling no less than three of Freddie’s cats from their hiding spots.

“I think she’s better,” Freddie shrugged.

Jim eyed his watch and jumped when his brain registered the time. “Fuck! It’s quarter past. Better get you downstairs, Mrs Taylor.”

“Don’t want Roger thinking you’ve done a runner, now, do we?” Peter said, offering you a hand up.

The marble staircase seemed to stretch on for miles, spiralling down into the hallway. Every single shaky step made your leopard print heels slip ever so slightly tripling the rate at which your heart fluttered. Even if you did manage to fall, you were safe in the knowledge that Jim or Freddie would catch you. They clung to an arm each for dear life while Peter hung back, frantically preventing you from standing on the bottom of your dress. They did all the work, forcing each baby step upon you as your body threatened to hurl the contents of your stomach down your dress and a quiet ocean moved inside your ears.

The trio led you out into the garden, through neatly trimmed rows of hedges and beautiful rose bushes and sunflowers. You had managed to accumulate a few of Freddie’s cats along the way, too. They accompanied you to the first sunflower arch at the end of the narrow aisle, before Freddie passed you a bouquet of roses that matched your dress.

Heads turned to get a glimpse of you, but there was only one person you cared about seeing today. Although tunnel vision was setting in, if you strained hard enough, you could just about make him out at the very end of the aisle. You could see his smile a mile off.

The wedding march kicked in, and suddenly you were on your own.

Your nails dug into the flowers stems as you tried to focus on something other than the fact that your legs felt like jelly. Your vision was so obscured that you struggled to see Roger, squinting into the sun. It felt like a joke — a bad one at that. A car crash in slow motion, you felt compelled to make proceedings move just a little bit faster. To put one foot in front of the other more easily.

“Fuck this,” you muttered to yourself, leaning against the back of a chair. You whipped off your shoes and carried on. It earned you some uneasy laughs, but you could tell Roger’s was genuine.

Being able to move more freely, you giggled to yourself as your stomped towards the altar. 

Roger shared your sentiments. He couldn’t stop laughing. “You’re that impatient to marry me, hm?”

You scoffed, delivering a smack to his chest. “How do I look, though?”

“Don’t know. Haven’t got my glasses. Can’t see you. Might be marrying a complete dog - ow!”

Freddie had delivered a sharp jab to Roger’s ribs, making him jump.

Roger’s cheeky expression was plastered all over his face by this point, but the feeling wasn’t lost. Those words made you melt in front of everyone. “You look beautiful, darling.”

—————————————————————————————————————————

You spent the entirety of Queen’s set cuddled up next to Freddie’s partner, Jim, at the side of the stage, sinking beers and watching in blissful awe as the sprawling crowd sang every word back to Freddie. It was unlike anything you had witnessed before. Unlike the last time you found yourself at a Queen gig.

When the evening drew to a close, a rush of euphoria washed over you; your husband finally made his way off stage towards you. He was drenched in sweat and on a high he’d never reach again. The voices of what seemed like millions, still chanting ‘God Save the Queen’ provided a fitting backdrop. He was inches from you, aching to finally be alone with his wife, when you pointed into the distance, over his shoulder.

“Nope,” Roger murmured, peppering kisses all over your cheek. “None of that now. S’all about you, Mrs Taylor.”

You pressed your hands to his chest, grasping at the saturated shirt he wore to stop him. “Just look,” you whispered, spinning him around by his shoulders.

Roger’s eyes glassed over, gazing out at the adoring audience one last time.

“Savour it,” you said, resting your arm over his shoulder. “You’ve got a lifetime with me. But you’re not going to get that again.”

You felt something behind you. Then you heard it.

“What are you two doing?” Freddie fretted, putting his arm around you. Then Brian joined him. And Deacy and the crew and their wives and kids joined them, too, until you all stood in a row, arm-in-arm, watching as the crowds began to disperse.

“What do we do now?” Roger asked, his voice wavering.

“I think I was at a wedding this morning,” Deacy mused.

“Really?” Freddie snorted. “Whose wedding?”

“A pair of plonkers called Mr and Mrs Taylor, I think,” Brian retorted.

“Alright, boys!” you chuckled, hauling Roger away from the group. “I want some time alone with my husband. You can have him back later.”

Roger nodded at you. A short, wordless signal to make your getaway as swiftly as possible. Then the pair of you ran as fast as your legs could carry you through the backstage area and out to a waiting car. 

When you collapsed inside, and the door closed, it was as if the entire world had been put on hold. It was just you and Roger, sweaty and breathless and alone for the first time in what felt like an eternity. You sat apart on the backseats, hands barely touching, trying to catch your breath as the car kicked into motion.

“We did it,” Roger gasped, clutching his heaving chest.

“That was honestly the most terrifying day of my life.”

Roger chuckled and shook his head. “Happy, though, right?”

“I think I made a good choice.”

“So what’s next?”

“Dunno. We could decorate the house?”

“Decorate?! It’s our wedding night, and you’re talking to me about decorating?”

“Oh, you meant… right!” You tittered, throwing your leg over Roger’s lap. “Well, in that case…” You trailed off, kissing your husband deeply.

He sighed against your lips, pressing his fingers into your waist. Then he broke away; a mischevious look washed over him. 

“What?” you asked, sweeping his hair back.

“Can you put the dress on when we get home?”

“Why?” you asked, narrowing your eyes.

“So I can take it off.”

#roger taylor x reader #roger taylor #queen #roger taylor fic #queen fic

[crazy-little-cool-cat]

Hand in Glove - Chapter 23 | Ben Hardy x OFC

A/N: SURPRISE, BETCHES! Nope, you’re not dreaming. This is real life. It’s not just fantasy. You’re definitely going to be caught in a landslide, though. After four months of silence, my writing juices are a-flowing and the shitstorms and clusterfucks are abundant. Hey, mystery anon. This one’s for you.

Warnings: clusterfucks. Also some mild smut. Mostly implied, nothing too graphic. Just how I like it. 

Word Count: You really don’t wanna know.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2,  Chapter 3,  Chapter 4,  Chapter 5,  Chapter 6,  Chapter 7,  Chapter 8,  Chapter 9,  Chapter 10,  Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14 , Chapter 15 , Chapter 16 , Chapter 17 , Chapter 18 , Chapter 19 , Chapter 20 , Chapter 21 , Chapter 22

Ben sighed as he placed his phone on the nightstand after looking at the time for what felt like the fifth time since Annie had dozed off. He sighed and blamed his inability to sleep on jetlag, excitement and not wanting to miss a millisecond of being home.

He turned on his other side, propping his head on his hand. Sprawled on her back, Annie’s half-covered figure seemed to glow as the sun dawned. As gently as he could, he brushed a few stray locks of hair from her face, running his fingers through the silky strands. Annie stirred with a smile.

“Good morning.” She purred lazily, her eyes still closed.

“Morning.”

“Did you get any sleep?” Annie’s eyes fluttered open. Turquoise staring into emerald-green.

“Not really.” Ben cupped Annie’s cheek in his hand and pressed a lingering kiss to her lips. “Christ, I’ve even missed your morning breath.”

“Wow.” Annie scoffed. “And they say romance is dead.”

“Shut up.” Ben kissed Annie again, deeper this time. “You’re not one for romance, anyways.”

“True.” Annie smirked. Ben started to roll away, out of bed, but stopped when Annie grabbed his wrist. “Where’re you going?”

“I have to take a piss, Annie.” Ben leaned down for one more kiss. “Am I allowed?” Annie pretended to mull it over in her head, tapping her lips as she pondered. “Right, then!”

“No!” Annie whined at Ben’s receding back. “Come back.”

She watched him walk away. Every muscle in his body even more defined than it was when he left. His back, his shoulders, his bum. She got out of bed and walked over to the bathroom’s closed door, waiting to hear the flush. When she did, she dropped on her knees and waited, sitting back on her heels.

Ben opened the door after washing his hands and almost stepped on her.

“What are you doing?” He raised a curious eyebrow.

“My personal trainer said I need more protein in my diet.” Annie smiled up at him, doe-eyed.

“Oh?” Ben’s jetlagged and fucked-out brain had trouble picking up on the implication. “Oh!”

“Mhm.” Annie said, getting up from her heels and wrapping her arm around Ben’s hardening cock. “It is time for breakfast, and all…”

Ben braced himself against the door-frame, arms and legs locking him into place. He looked down at Annie and bit his bottom lip. As if on cue, Annie wrapped her lips around him, making him moan.

###

“What?” Annie barked tiredly into the phone. “What?”

“First of all, it’s great to know you’ve successfully separated yourself from Ben’s dick.” Clara sassed. “Second of all, we’re having brunch. Then, and only then, we’ll release Rory back into the wilderness.”

“Do you know what time it is?!” Annie hissed, careful not to wake up Ben after he finally fell asleep.

“Yes. Do you know what your baby thinks of the time?” Clara retorted.

“Hm.”

“Exactly. So, brunch. Us, Rami and Lucy, Joe.”

“Why can’t it be lunch?” Annie grumbled. “Like normal, unpretentious people.”

“Because we’re starving.”

“So eat something!”

“Annie, Rory woke us up at the crack of dawn! And during the night!”

“We woke up at the crack of dawn and during the night too! You don’t hear us moaning about it!”

“I’m sure the screams coming from you and the screams coming from Rory were very, very different, Annabelle.”

“You were the ones who wanted to take her so desperately!”

“Because she’s too young to be exposed to whatever crazy monkey sex you and Ben are into.”

“Oh, sit on a stick.”

“That the best you could come up with?” Clara chuckled. “He really fucked you silly, eh?”

“Can you please just -” Annie paused when she felt Ben stir and press up against her back.

“Banana?”

“I’m going to have to call you back.”

“What?”

“Something just came up.”

“Tell Ben about brunch!”

“Tell him yourself!” Annie giggled and put Clara on speaker phone. “You’re on speaker.”

“Benjamin?”

“Yes?”

“Can you extract your penis from my best friend for a hot minute?”

“No.”

“Fine. This is nasty, you know. You two should be ashamed of yourselves.”

“You’re the one listening in on this.” Annie lilted. “Shame’s exclusively on you, you plum.”

“Fine.” Clara groaned. “Listen up, hornies!” Her voice shifted from the sugary sweet tone it usually carried to surprisingly assertive. “Gwilym’s flat. One o’clock. Your husband is very excited to see you, Ben. Don’t let him down.”

Clara ended the call muttering profanities as Ben and Annie started off another round.

###

“Where is my baby?” Ben basically kicked the door to Gwilym’s flat down. “Give me my Aurora or die!” 

“Jesus, Ben!” Clara panted, clutching on to her chest, “can you not do that?” 

“Give. Me. My. Baby.” 

“She’s right here!” Lucy popped up from the floor, where she, Rory and Rami played. “Oh wow, look at you! Dashing!” 

“Rami, remember, no Peek-a-boo!” Annie called, squeezing her way in around Ben. “Not everyone can handle the eyes!” 

“Lovely to see you again, Annabelle.” Rami replied sweetly, then looked down at Rory. “Your mother is such a bitch sometimes, isn’t she?” he cooed. 

“Just protecting my child from any future trauma, Mr. Roboto.” Annie said walking over to him. “I happen to love the eyes, anyways.” 

“Aw.” Rami smiled as Annie crouched down next to him, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. “Hi lovie!” 

Rory squealed at the sight of her mum. 

“Where’s Gwil?” Ben asked. Rory tried to follow his voice with her eyes, but she couldn’t see him from where she was sitting. Ben tiptoed towards the sofa and lunged forward. “Boo!” 

“Well, she speaks dolphin.” Rami mused after Rory’s excited screeching subsided. “How does she even do that?” 

“I suspect Roger Taylor.” Ben walked around the sofa and knelt down next to his daughter. “Wanna come to me?” 

Rory waved her hands and babbled. Ben smiled warmly as he picked his daughter up from the floor.

The front door flew open, revealing Joe standing with his hands on his hips, pretending to be superman. 

“I have arrived!” 

“Yes. The entire building can tell.” Rami rolled his eyes.

###

“This is awkward.”

Lucy, Annie, Rami and Clara exchanged nervous glances.

“I didn’t mean anything by it, you know.” Clara put her hand on top of Joe’s. “I was just making a joke.”

“The hell you were!” Gwilym snapped. “Ben and I are basically a married couple.”

“Uh, the duck you are!” Joe dropped his fork. “I’m Ben’s husband. Everybody knows. An entire production team knows!”

“You bellends are fighting over my boyfriend.” Annie chimed in. “That’s really weird.”

“Better fight over him than over you than have him fight me over you…” Joe muttered.

“What was that?” Annie challenged.

“I said that’s it’s better if Gwil and I fight over him than having to fight Ben over you.”

“What… the fuck?” Rami looked as if he was watching a tennis match before Gwilym smacked him gently on the back of his head for using foul language. “Sorry! Sorry! What the duck?”

“What, you don’t know?” Joe smiled devilishly. “Since we’ve turned this into an Italian let’s-air-out-our-dirty-laundry-over-food thing…”

“Joseph, no.” Gwilym, Ben and Annie said simultaneously.

“Joseph, please continue.” Lucy said and wiped her fingers on her napkin. “We’re all ears.”

“You’re keeping secrets from me?” Rami was baffled. “Wow. Just… wow.”

“Oh, for crying out loud, it’s not that deep, alright?” Clara groaned. “Joe and Annie got drunk and almost kissed, as Joe and Annie usually do. End of story.”

“Again?!” Rami and Lucy choired.

“Seriously, dude, what the fu-” Rami stopped himself when Annie glared at him, “-duck?!”

“I don’t know, okay? She’s all over me!” Joe raised his hands in defeat. “I can’t really blame her, can’t I?”

“What?” Annie scoffed and took a sip of her water.

“Did I stutter?”

“No, I just couldn’t hear you while you dumped garbage out of your mouth there, for a second.” Annie replied calmly.

“Really, though, you two need to stop.” Rami pointed at the two. “This is not normal.”

“He burped right in my face.”

“That’s disgusting, Joey!” Lucy cringed.

“I could practically taste it.” Annie carried on.

“Ben? Would you like to comment?”

“No, I’m good.” Ben said and took another mouthful of food into his mouth with one hand, while feeding Rory with the other. “When did you guys get a high-chair?”

“Don’t change the subject, Benny.” Lucy quipped.

“We got one second-hand because we figured Annie and Rory will be spending some time here once we’re gone on tour.”

“Oh.”

“You know what needs to happen?” Lucy wondered aloud, swirling her wine in her glass. “You two need to just kiss and get it over and done with.”

“What?!” Annie and Joe’s voices climbed in pitch.

“How much wine did you have?” Clara’s eyebrows were so high, they merged with her hairline. “What is happening?”

“Wait, hold on.” Ben froze. “That’s actually not the worst idea.”

“What?!” Annie and Joe’s voices climbed even higher.

“Look, Rory, they speak dolphin too!” Rami joked.

“Seriously,” Lucy continued, “just kiss.”

“She lost her mind.” Annie looked at Ben, wide-eyed.

“But did she really?” Ben tilted his head. “It will take the mystery out of the equation, in a way.”

“Bloody hell.” Gwilym breathed. “They’re right.”

“Huh!?”

“Look, you two clearly want to know what kissing the other will be like.” Ben stated. “So, if you two will just go ahead and bloody do it, the tension will break.”

“I’m not kissing your husband, Ben!” Annie hissed.

“Hey!” Gwilym snapped while Joe sat with a shit-eating grin on his face for being referred to as ‘Ben’s husband’ in front of his competitor.

“Why not?” Ben shrugged.

“Wait, you’re serious?” Joe leaned forward, wide-eyed. “Ben, buddy, you’ve clearly fucked yourself insane.”

“No, I mean it.” Ben leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms. “Do it. Kiss.”

“What, now?!”

“Yeah. Go on.” Ben nodded. “Do it.”

“Ben…” Annie started.

“Shut up and kiss my best mate, damn it.” Ben slammed his fist on the table. “It’s not like I’m asking you to kiss your cousin.”

“Gross.” Gwilym shuddered.

“Exactly.” Ben shrugged. “Come on. You wanted to do it a few days ago.”

“I was drunk!” Annie said, horrified. “Ben, you can’t be serious.”

“Oh, but I am.”

“Guys? Anyone? A little help here?” Annie pleaded. The table was silent. “Wow. Thanks.”

“Wait, so you only want to kiss me when you’re drunk?” Joe seemed to snap out of a daydream. “That’s just mean!”

“Are you saying you want to kiss me when you’re sober?” Annie challenged him. Ben bounced his knee as he waiting for an answer.

“About as much as I’d like to French Frankie after she licked her butthole.” Joe bit the inside of his cheek. “I mean, Annie’s great, but -”

“Say no more.” Ben said and got up.

“Where’s he going?”

“Oh God, did we upset him?”

“You blithering idiots!”

“Fucking hell.” Gwilym pinched the bridge of his nose. “Annie, if you say one word about using profanities around Rory, so help me God -”

“There you go!” Ben returned with two shot glasses and a bottle of vodka. “Drink up.”

###

“How are you two feeling?” Ben’s voice was exceptionally low as he lulled Annie and Joe into submission, “wanna kiss yet?”

With one arm wrapped around Joe and the other around Annie, Ben was all but a puppet master. Rory sat on Clara’s lap, nodding off, completely oblivious to the shitstorm around her.

“You’re pimping us out.” Joe slurred.

“You’re absolutely right, I am.” Ben started to close his arms, bringing the two together. “Dance, monkeys.”

“When did he become so evil?” Gwilym asked.

“Hollywood will do that to you.” Rami shrugged. “Shit happens.”

“Language!” Annie’s head snapped to look at Rami.

“She’s not drunk enough.” Lucy groaned. “And he’s getting too drunk.”

“Right, we need a plan, here.” Ben released the two. “Right, Annie, love, let’s have another drink?”

“Why just her?!” Joe whined.

“Oh, stop bleating!” Annie sighed. 

“Because Rory wants to play with her favourite uncle, is why.” Lucy intervened.

“Oh, my Josephine.”

“That’s not her name.” Annie snapped.

“She’s not yours.” Ben added.

“Eh, shut your pie holes.” Joe stumbled over to where Clara sat and plopped down on the floor. “Hey, Josie.”

“Ben, he keeps doing that!” Annie pouted while Ben poured her another drink. “What, you’re not getting one?”

“I need to drive us home, my love.”

“I can drive you.” Gwil quipped.

“And then how will you get home?” Annie looked at her cousin as if he spoke in tongues.

“Clara will pick me up.”

“I will?” Clara asked as she stood up to put Rory down for a nap.

“Look, we’re doing this, alright?” Ben looked around the room. “Team effort.”

“They’ll end up having a three-way.” Clara warned, walking away.

###

Annie sat on Ben’s lap, staring at him with a goofy smile. Her cheeks had a drunken, rosy tint to them, her eyes glazed and shiny. While she had seven shots of vodka and Joe had five, Ben had two. He had something to prove here, and he wasn’t going to let Annie get him drunk enough to forget about it. His fears were uncalled for, however. Annie was clearly blitzed at that point and would do anything he asked her to.

The group played a long, tiresome game of truth or dare to distract Joe and Annie from what the endgame was. During said game, almost everybody chose a dare, and they had to get creative. Rami had to change a poopy diaper, Gwilym tasted baby food, Lucy taught Ben how to pout like her, making Annie take more shots or glasses of wine, and this was just the tip of the iceberg.

“Banana, your turn.” Clara smiled deviously. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“Hm. Not what I expected she’d say.” Clara looked like a deer in the headlights as she tried to come up with something. Anything. “Okay. Do you want more babies?”

“I want to have all the babies!” Annie declared, spreading her arms like wings. “All the cute little Ben babies.”

“We are the champions, my friends!” Ben started wailing, seemingly out of nowhere. “She is officially wasted!”

“Finally!” Lucy’s fist shot up in the air. “My God, she’s like a sailor!”

“Who’s turn is it?” Joe mumbled drunkenly.

“Yours.” Ben zeroed in on him. “Truth or dare?”

“Dare, duh.”

“I dare you to kiss Annie.” Ben said coolly. “A proper snog, please.”

Joe looked Ben in the eyes, waiting for him to say he’s just joking.

“You want me to make out with your wife?”

“Yes, please.”

“We’re not married.” Annie huffed.

“Irrelevant and even better.” Ben grinned. “Nothing to feel guilty about.”

“Hm.”

“You really want us to do this?” Joe asked.

“Yup.”

“And you won’t punch me in the face or get a divorce or -”

“We’re not married!”

“Your face is safe.” Ben reassured.

“Right. Okay.” Joe nodded to himself. He stood up and stretched his neck. “C’mere, Annie.”

“Ben?” Annie looked at him pleadingly. “Are you sure?”

“Go ahead.” He leaned in to kiss Annie. “I trust you.”

“So, how do we do this?” Annie turned to Joe.

“Well, come here.” Joe said. With a small push from Ben, Annie was on her wobbly feet and walking towards Joe. “Come on.”

Annie looked like Bambi first learning how to walk. She apprehensively approached Joe. He took her hand and pulled her to him.

The rest felt like they were watching a movie. The room fell silent. Rory was fast asleep in Gwilym’s bedroom. The only sound was the slow humdrum of the music Gwilym had playing in the background.

Annie slammed right into Joe’s chest, giggling. They started swaying to the music. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer.

“Are they dancing?” Clara sneered. “They’re bloody dancing!”

“Shhh!” Gwilym silenced her. “This is how he does it.”

“What?”

“Just be quiet and watch.”

With his finger hooked under her chin, Joe tilted her face up. They bumped noses and chuckled. Brushing his lips over hers, he cupped her face in both his hands and kissed her.

“Proper snog.” Ben muttered after he cleared his throat, watching his best friend cowardly kiss his girlfriend.

Joe rolled his eyes and went for it. He poked his tongue out and licked Annie’s lips, parting them. She wrapped her arms around his waist, pulling him closer. As they kissed, Annie nibbled on his bottom lip gently. After a few minutes, Joe pulled away, frowning.

“For the love of all that is holy in this world, Annie, stop trying to bite my lip off will you!?”

“Well if you used a little bit more tongue, I wouldn’t have to do that!” Annie snapped back. “Honestly, this is not what I -”

Annie’s rant was cut short by Joe’s lips, kissing her with more fervour. They pulled away slowly, both frowning this time. They took a step back and stared at each other, disgusted confusion flashing in their eyes. Joe covered his mouth with his hand, turning his face away. Annie almost gagged.

“Well?”

“That was, by far, the worst kiss I’ve ever had.” Annie said, pointing at Joe.

“Christ, I felt like I’m either kissing a crocodile or an eel.”

“And there you have it, folks!” Lucy bowed victoriously.

###

“Why the fuck would you do that to me?!” Annie slammed the cupboard angrily after Ben had put Rory to sleep for the night.

Since they got home, they haven’t said a single word about Joe and Annie’s kiss. Meanwhile, Annie sobered up enough to let the reality of what happened sink in. She kissed Joe and hated it.

“Do what?” Ben feigned innocence.

“You know what you did.” Annie downed her glass of water.

“Because I love you, that’s why.” Ben sighed. “So you didn’t like the kiss, then?”

“No, I didn’t bloody like it!” She slammed the glass on the countertop. “Ben, why? Why would you do this?”

“It needed to happen.”

“I could never look him in the eye again, knowing what a horrid kisser he is!”

“Funny, he texted the same thing about you just a few minutes ago.”

“You’re an arse.”

“No, I’m a bloody genius, is what I am.” Ben puffed his chest. “Should’ve had you do that ages ago.”

“Are you joking?” Annie laughed in disbelief.

“Oh, not at all.” Ben gloated.

Annie turned around to wash the dishes and give Ben the silent treatment. Her attempts were futile. He came up behind her and engulfed her in his arms, nibbling on the shell of her ear. He could feel Annie’s breathing pick up and bent his knees, moving down to her neck. His hands slid down her sides, working their way to the waistband of her jeans.

“What are you doing?”

“Celebrating.”

“What, exactly?”

“Well, you see,” his warm breath washed over her ear, raising goosebumps all over her, “the thing is, I love the fact that you don’t want Joe.”

“I told you a million times…”

“Yes, but now I know for sure. You don’t want anyone else…” He reached over to shut the water off, “… but me.”

#########

TAGLIST:  @ramibaby @xgoingdownx @qweenly @violetpond @sweeterthancheese @drummerqueenrmt @westansstuff @justgivemethekeys  @blondecarfucker @cheeseedreams47 @rogerspoison @deacy-dearest @pinkmarvel @onceuponadetectivedemigod

#ben hardy #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy fanfiction #ben hardy smut #ben hardy fanfic #ben hardy x ofc #gwilym lee #gwilym lee fanfiction #gwilym lee fanfic #gwilym lee imagine #gwilym lee x ofc #joe mazzello #joe mazzello fanfiction #joe mazzello x ofc #joe mazzello fanfic #rami malek #rami malek fanfic #rami malek imagine #rami malek fanfiction #rami malek x ofc #BoRhap #borhap imagine #borhap fanfic #borhap fanfiction #hand in glove

[crossbows-and-moonshine]

Anam Cara (Chapter 11)

(Chapter 1)

(Chapter 2)

(Chapter 3)

(Chapter 4)

(Chapter 5)

(Chapter 6)

(Chapter 7)

(Chapter 8)

(Chapter 9)

(Chapter 10)

It had been a week since Luna had told the boys she loved them and it had been a week of healing. Murphy was doing really well and was able to get up and move around now, although still slow and extremely sore, and Connors' leg was nearly as good as new. She hadn’t said those three words again since, not wanting to overuse them as everything was still so premature. Connor still hadn’t said anything back to her and she didn’t want to bring it up even though it was eating away at her. Murphy said it back pretty much straight away and she wondered why Connor never said it at all.

There had been a few times when things became heated between her and Connor, kissing turning into desperate groping like a pair of teenagers, but for some reason, any time she tried to take it further, wanting to have her first time with him, he would make an excuse and disappear. She started to wonder if maybe he didn’t really forgive her for how she acted about Murphy being injured, how cold she was to him when he needed her more than anything. It used to be that he always wanted to be around her but now it’s like he couldn’t escape fast enough, which is what led her to be currently sat on the sofa in the morning, still in shock as Connor had just fucked off on her again, even though his body was betraying him. She knew he wanted her so why the fuck wouldn’t he just give in?

With a heaving sigh she walked into the bedroom and saw Murphy still snoring away on his back, it warmed her heart and she smiled as she crawled in bed next to him. He didn’t wake fully right away but he could sense her close and smiled lazily as he wrapped his arms around her, just like she needed, to soothe to sting of Connors rejection once again. She nuzzled herself into his neck inhaling that wonderful unique Murphy smell that she loved so much, as he started waking slowly and tightened his grip on her. She loved Murphy in the morning so much, he was always so unguarded in those moments as he would lay with her, his hair awry and adorable looking and his beautiful blue eyes twinkling in that wonderful way Murphy's eyes seemed to do. She cherished the mornings she would have with him, savoring every moment. It was rare she woke up to Connor, he was always the early riser of the two and more often than not was already up and making them breakfast by the time she woke up.

“Mornin’ mo searc (my love).” He smiled, his voice still thick from sleep. She didn’t say anything and she snuggled closer into him, she thought if she did say something she just might cry, it all just building up. He frowned and his arms instinctively squeezed her a little, he knew something was off with her, he could just sense it. He was convinced he could feel it.

“Talk te me love, what’s wrong?” He asked softly as he brought his hand up to run through her hair in a soothing manner. She shook her head, her face still buried in his neck and she could feel her lip quiver as she tried her hardest not to cry. Her body was tense and she didn’t even realise it but Murphy could feel how tightly wound she was and it made him worry further.

“Has somethin’ happened? Has Connor upset ye?” He asked with a frown. He wasn’t aware of what was going on with her and Connor but he would be a liar if he said he hadn’t noticed something going on with them. At the mention of Connor's name, her wall came crashing down and she cried softly into his neck. Feeling her tears on his skin and holding her body as it shook ever so slightly, he found himself growing tense, angry that his brother had upset her. After everything that had happened last week, he was glad they had sorted it, but he was beyond pissed off when he later found out from Connor how rough he had been on the rooftop. They had spent so long thinking their angel wasn’t even real and now they had her in their lives for real and Connor could have fucked it all up and scared her away. Connor was the one telling Murphy to take things slow and not to scare the poor lass off, yet he was the one manhandling her on the fucking roof, he was livid.

“What did he fuckin’ do?” He asked slowly, his jaw clenching, and she could hear the anger in his voice. She knew she had to tell him because it wasn’t as bad as it looked, Connor hadn’t hurt her in the way he probably thought he did. She was the one who had to intervene when Murphy found out about the rooftop incident, having to drag Murphy away from Connor before he would end up busting open his stitches. She was pretty sure that if Murphy didn’t have a bullet wound in his side that Connor would be black and blue, Murphy was furious at his brother. She had to convince him she was okay and not hurt in any way before he even started to calm down, but he was still pissed off at Connor about it. She had never seen Murphy so angry before, especially at his brother. They had their arguments, sure, but this was full on fury coming from him.

“I don’t think...I don’t think he loves me.” She admitted, not moving from her spot hidden away in the crook of his neck. Murphy furrowed his brow as he glanced down at her.

“O’ course he fuckin’ loves ye! Why would ye even think that?!” He asked shocked and incredibly confused. He knew without a shadow of a doubt that his brother loved Luna just as much as he did, there was no question about it. And he had no clue what Connor had done to even give her that impression. She sat up feeling embarrassed now at talking with his own brother about it.

“It’s nothing.” She sniffled as she went to get up, but Murphy sat up and grabbed her wrist preventing her from going. She looked at him, her blue eyes burning bright and shining from her tears and his heart beat a little faster. He was sat there with the blanket pooling around his waist, his bare torso almost glowing from the morning sunlight shining in from the window. He was beautiful, Luna’s dark angel.

“It ain’t ever nothin’ Luna, not wit’ me. Somethin’s got ye upset and I wanna know what happened.” He stated seriously, actually using her name making her know he was being deadly serious. She took a shaky breath and laid her eyes on the blanket, toying with it anxiously in her hands.

“It’s just... When I told him I loved him, he never said it back.” She said, her voice so small and vulnerable sounding that it made Murphy's heart ache a little and he reached his hand out to cover hers on the blanket. He wanted to kick Connors ass for not saying it back, he didn’t know why he didn’t because his brother loved their lass with everything he had. But now he had made her insecure and doubting his feelings and he could see how much this was bothering her.

“He loves ye, trust me, Luna, he does. I know he does, I can fuckin’ feel it.” He said firmly trying to reassure her.

“Then why does he keep rejecting me? Turning me away? Every time I want to prove my love for him, to show him, he fucking makes up some stupid excuse and runs off. He doesn’t want me Murph, I ruined it all.” She frowned as fresh tears made their way down her pale cheeks, avoiding his gaze. He shook his head and ran a hand through his unruly hair with frustration. What the fuck was Connor playing at? He tried to think of why Connor would behave that way but he really came up with nothing.

“Look mo searc (my love), I have no idea why he’s actin’ this way, but I’ll be havin’ a fuckin’ word with that brot’er o’ mine. One thing I can tell ye, he does love ye, he loves ye so fuckin’ much Luna and I mean that. If there’s one thing I’m certain o’, it’s that.” He explained sincerely, making her relax slightly as she heard the truth in his words and how firmly he believed them. She knew Murphy wouldn’t lie to her and no one knew Connor quite like Murphy did. She looked at him, now not avoiding his gaze and she nodded, making him smile a little and grab her, pulling her closer so he could embrace her. Murphy always had a way of calming her, his presence was soothing for her and she always found herself by his side whenever she needed a moment of peace and clarity.

A few hours later and Murphy had sent Luna to the store with Romeo, she wanted to cook them dinner and it presented as a perfect opportunity for Murphy to corner his twin brother when she wasn’t there. He walked into the living room area and saw Connor grabbing a beer out of the fridge, and he slowly walked over, holding his side and wincing a little as his stitches pulled.

“Ye alright baby brot’er?” Connor grinned at him, leaning on the counter. Murphy didn’t smile though, and he didn’t make a remark about not being the younger brother like he normally did, making Connor look at him confused.

“Ye know if it weren’t for the fact I’m injured, I’d be beatin’ the shite outta ye right now.” Murphy stated, his voice low and calm as his gazed burned into his brother.

“Oh is that so?” Connor asked with a raised brow, amusement colouring his face.

“Yer a fuckin’ idiot Connor. Can’t ye see yer pushin’ her away and she’s gonna leave us because o’ it?!” Murphy frowned, his voice getting a little higher in that way it did when he was angry or passionate about something. The thought alone of Luna leaving, no longer being a part of their lives, terrified him. She may not have been in their lives physically for long but the twins had been dreaming of her for what felt like forever, they felt like they knew her on such a deep intimate level. Murphy couldn’t imagine his life without her by his side, by their side. Connor looked at him confused and shifted on his spot.

“The fuck are ye talkin’ about Murph?” He asked with a furrowed brow.

“Ye didn’t even tell her ye loved her! She told ye and ye never said it back ye fuckin’ eejit. How do ye think that’s made her feel?” Murphy glared. Connors' face went from confused to mortified as he replayed the events from the rooftop in his head. He had been all over the place with his emotions that night and he didn’t even realise he never said it back. Everything was so intense back on the rooftop and things escalated pretty quick, nearly taking her right there, he hadn’t realised he hadn’t told her back how he felt, it never even crossed his mind.

“Fuckin’ shit.” He muttered, a look of realisation dawning on his face, and Murphy untensed a little noticing it.

“Wasn’t intentional?” He asked, curiosity now clear in his voice.

“Fuckin’ no. Me head was everywhere, I never noticed I didn’t say it back, mouth was a little preoccupied after she told me.” He said, a sly grin creeping on his face making Murphy shake his head and roll his eyes before frowning again.

“Well, what about ye rejectin’ her?” He asked, still not understanding the reasoning behind that.

“I ain’t rejectin’ her. I’m just... delayin’ it. I got a plan.” He shrugged, a little pink tinge coming across his face, something that didn’t go unnoticed by his brother.

“You and yer stupid fuckin’ plans. Why the fuck ye delayin’ it?” He asked confused. Connor wiped his face and sighed, not really wanting to say it out loud in front of his brother but he didn’t feel like he had a choice, they never kept shit from each other.

“Look, I just want it te be special aye? I want te make it all romantic and shit for her and I can’t do that whilst yer fuckin’ here, and I can’t exactly kick ye out for the night until yer healed.” He admitted, looking at the floor slightly embarrassed.

“Are ye fuckin’ kiddin’ me? That’s all it is? Ye wanna make it romantic?” Murphy scoffed, slight bewilderment on his face.

“Shut the fuck up aye? I love the lass, o’ course I want te make it special for her.” He frowned as he glanced up at his brothers face.

“Look Connor, rejection is rejection, she still feels like ye rejected her. She was fuckin’ cryin’ te me this mornin’ over it.” Murphy explained as he ran a hand through his messy hair. Connors almost looked pained at the thought of making her cry, being the reason behind her tears.

“I didn’t mean te upset the lass.” He sighed as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Well I can see that now, but ye need te tell her so she can see it too brot’er.” Murphy said, giving Connor a look that made it clear he knew he was right, even if Connor didn’t want to tell her. Connor nodded and walked over to his twin to save him the trouble, embracing him carefully. They always found comfort in each other which is why they were always close by to one another and seemed to have no concept of personal space, just used to being next to each other all of the time.

“Just fix it aye? I can’t lose her.” Murphy pleaded quietly as he hugged his brother back tightly.

“Aye.”

Not long after, Luna came in with Romeo with bags of shopping and they went into the kitchen area to put it away.

“Luna, m’love, c’mere a sec aye?” Murphy said from the sofa where he was now situated with his brother. Connor shot him a look, but Murphy ignored it.

“Murph...” Connors' voice had a slight warning tone to it but Murphy didn’t even look at him. Luna looked over and back at Romeo who told her he would put all the shopping away for her. She smiled gratefully as she walked over to the sofa and sat on the one opposite the boys, feeling a little nervous at how weird they were acting.

“Connors got somethin’ he needs te tell ye.” Murphy said as he elbowed his brother, but Connor just glared at him, making Murphy let out an irritated huff and roll his eyes.

“For fuck sake Connor yer such a pussy.” Murphy grumbled looking at his brother half disapproving and half amused before turning to look at Luna, his eyes softening instantly.

“The reason he’s been avoidin’ things lately is cos he wanted to make it special for ye.” He explained, shooting an annoyed look at his tight-lipped twin next to him once again, Connor just sat there looking sheepish and embarrassed. Luna looked at Connor as if for confirmation but he wouldn’t look at her, his cheeks were pink and she could feel his embarrassment rolling off him in waves.

“That’s why you’ve been turning me away?” She asked him, needing to hear it from him. He could hear the sadness in her voice when she spoke and his eyes met hers, making him feel like an asshole for not realising how he had been making her feel. He at least owed her an explanation.

“I didn’t mean te upset ye mo chroi (my heart), I just wanted te do things right and I can’t exactly do it with me brot’er floatin’ around the place. I wanted te make it romantic for ye... special.” He explained sheepishly. Murphy sat there with that annoying smug look on his face that made Connor want to strangle him a little bit.

“Connor, I don’t need romance and all that shit. I don’t need fucking candles and rose petals scattered across the bed. I just need you. It’s about us showing each other how much we care about each other.” She said sincerely, making both pairs of Macmanus blues pin their gazes onto her at her words, touching them deeply.

“Aye?” One word conveyed alot of emotion when Connor said it, his eyes boring into her.

“Aye. And...I want us to...you know...all be together. But we can’t until we’ve had our time together. Murphy had me alone first and it’s only fair we share that too before we...” She tried to explain as her face went ten different shades of red, making both brothers grin at her.

“Oh shut up!” She laughed and stood up to go back over to Romeo. Connor grabbed her hand though and pulled her down onto his lap, her legs over Murphys who was sat to the right of him. Murphy's hands caressed her legs softly and he smiled at her, she smiled back and then looked to Connor who was also smiling at her, but there was a look in his eyes, something intense and she couldn’t quite place it. He stroked her hair from her face and leant his forehead on hers, something that she loved when either one of the brothers did, it always felt so intimate.

“I love ye my lass. Mo chroi, chorp agus anam. (My heart, body and soul.)” He said softly against her lips, making her breathing hitch a little. She could hear the truth behind his voice and she had no doubt about his words, the ones she understood at least, but before she could reply Connors' mouth devoured hers in an all-consuming kiss, and if it wasn’t for Murphy's hands soothing on her legs and keeping her grounded, she felt like she would float away. Murphy watched with fascination as his twin brother kissed their girl, feeling something stirring inside of him. He found he liked watching them together and he couldn’t wait for when the time came and the three of them would be together. He could feel what Connor felt and it was as if he was kissing her himself, his heart hammering away in his chest. He needed to feel those soft lips on his own before he exploded.

“Connor, it’s my turn te kiss the lass now.” Murphy whined impatiently from the side of them and Luna laughed, breaking the kiss. Connor shot Murphy a look, to which Murphy just smirked at him and shrugged before pulling her in for a searing kiss. The boys had a way of leaving you breathless when they kissed you, always a kiss that made your knees weak and your heart feel like it would stop beating, and when she felt Connor brush her hair from her neck and start kissing her neck, she moaned into Murphy's mouth. They all suddenly heard someone clearing their throat and jumped apart looking over at the kitchen, where Romeo stood with a red face and an amused look on his face.

“Can ya take that shit somewhere else?” He asked with a grin, making Luna flush and peel herself away from her boys.

“By all means stay here, I mean I can join in, spice it up a little?” He laughed as Luna walked past him and punched him in the arm, the twins fake glaring at him as they stood up in unison.

“Tryin’ te move in on our girl Rome?” Murphy asked with a raised brow as he stood in front of him, arms crossed over his chest.

“I do believe he is Murph.” Connor chimed in, swinging an arm around his brother with a grin. Romeo just flipped them off an walked back over to finish putting away the groceries and help Luna make the food.

#boondock saints #boondock saints fanfic #murphy macmanus #murphy macmanus fanfic #connor macmanus #connor macmanus fanfic

[wistfulcynic]

Another Brick in the Wall, Chapter 13

a/n: Prom time! Please read the note at the end (and thanks for reading full stop! This is the penultimate chapter :)

Summary: Emma Swan, sheriff’s daughter, mayor’s niece, quarterback’s girlfriend, is the undisputed princess of Storybrooke High. She is smart and confident and used to getting what she wants. What she wants is Killian Jones, the new boy in school. But Killian is not easily manipulated, and reluctant to allow the dark secrets in his past to touch the girl he is rapidly falling in love with. Rating: T Read it on AO3: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13

Tags for: @darkcolinodonorgasm @jennjenn615 @hollyethecurious @resident-of-storybrooke @kmomof4 @bonbonpirate

Chapter 13: 

On the day of the prom Emma’s butterflies, which had largely gone into hibernation over the past few weeks as her relationship with Killian had steadied and solidified, were back in full force. It was incredible how much her life had changed in the past year, she reflected. She’d had no butterflies at all before last year’s prom. It had been just another party, another fun time with her friends. She hadn’t even technically gone with a date, instead she, Ruby, Victor, Neal, and several of their other friends had all gone together in a group. Neal had used every dance as an excuse to grope her, then at the end of the night he’d pulled her into a quiet corner on a lame pretext and tried to get her to have sex with him. 

“No, Neal, I’ve told you before I don’t want to!”

“Come on, Emma, it’s the fucking prom!”

“Please don’t use that word.”

“God, you’re such a prude. It’s the freaking prom, everyone does it!” 

“I’m not everyone!”

“Well, that’s for sure. You’d have put out by now if you were.” 

The night had ended with her crying quiet tears alone in her room, wondering if there really was something wrong with her for not wanting to have sex as everyone else seemed to be doing, as Ruby and Victor were, and most of the other cheerleaders. But even though she’d been calling Neal her boyfriend for most of a year, she’d had no desire for him to touch her that way. 

Of course with Killian everything was different. Emma sometimes felt that “it’s different with Killian” had become her own personal mantra. For one thing, he didn’t have to make lame excuses to get her alone, and for another she was absolutely certain that she wanted to sleep with him. It might not be that night —he still had reservations, bad associations from his past that still crept up on him sometimes and made him hesitant to push things too fast with her— but that didn’t matter. Tonight, next year, ten years from now, she wanted him to be her first —her only— and she would wait as long as he needed. Another personal mantra. 

She and Killian had permission from her parents and Liam to stay overnight on the Jones’s boat. Whether they had sex or not they would be spending the whole night together, hours and hours alone with just each other, in complete privacy. Emma had never been more excited for anything in her life. Hence the triumphant return of the butterflies. 

Emma smoothed her dress and checked her reflection for the hundredth time, wondering if it had been a mistake to let her mother talk her into doing her hair up like this, curled and twisted and hairsprayed to within an inch of its life. She felt more comfortable with her hair down. 

“You wear it down most of the time,” Snow had pointed out when they’d discussed the matter several weeks before. “Killian’s seen it down. You want to wow him, don’t you?”

“I’m pretty sure he’ll be wowed no matter what her hair looks like,” David had piped up, an oddly disgruntled sort of pride in his voice. Despite how fond he was of Killian —and he was inches away from calling him the son he’d never had— it was hard for him to see Emma with another man in her life. She went to Killian first now, with her thoughts and fears and dreams, things she’d once brought only to him. It was right that she did so, David knew, and he couldn’t be happier that she’d found someone who so clearly adored her as she deserved, but it still made him sad. Killian was her top priority now, and he knew that some time down the road there would be children, grandbabies for him to treasure and spoil and love every second of doing it, but he would never come first in his daughter’s life again and if he was perfectly, shamefully truthful he resented that a bit. 

“Of course he will be, but he’ll be even more wowed by something different,” Snow had insisted, and eventually Emma had caved. Sometimes her mother was a force of nature and the path of wisdom was simply to go along with it. 

But it was too late to make any changes now, her hair was done, her dress and shoes were on, and Killian would be arriving any moment. The butterflies began to do gymnastics, a new departure for them, and Emma took a deep breath and smoothed her skirt yet again. Snow came to stand behind her, placing her hands on Emma’s shoulders as their eyes met in her mirror. Her expression was soft and understanding. “You look beautiful, Emma,” she said, tears shimmering in her eyes. 

“Mom,” wailed Emma, “don’t you dare cry! If you cry I’ll cry and we’ll have to redo my makeup and there’s no time for that!”  

At that auspicious moment the doorbell rang and Emma caught her breath. She stood and made a move towards the door but her mother stopped her, clutching her arm. 

“Let your father answer it. He wants to do his stern dad thing, and you need to make an entrance.” 

“What’s his ‘stern dad thing’?”

“Oh, you know, glaring threateningly, asking about Killian’s intentions towards you, that sort of thing. Stern dad stuff.” 

"Okay, what? That’s ridiculous, and anyway Killian’s never going to buy it, he knows Dad loves him.” 

“Well, give your father a chance to try, at least. We’ll wait five minutes then go down. Now stop fidgeting with your hair, sweetie. It looks perfect.” 

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

David opened the door and fixed Killian with his very finest Sheriff glare. He intended to make the boy writhe, future father of his grandchildren or no.  

Killian simply grinned. 

“Bit late for that, isn’t it?” he asked. “If you wanted to intimidate me away from your daughter you really should have done it months ago.” 

David’s expression darkened. “I’m making up for lost time.” 

“Well would you mind making up for it inside?” queried Killian, giving him a look of perfect, angelic innocence. “There’s an unseasonably crisp breeze out here this evening. Perhaps I might sit anxiously on the sofa whilst you stand over me menacingly with your hand resting on your holster. Which I can’t help noticing that you’re wearing even though you’re off duty.”

David’s lips twitched, but he fought back the smile. “You won’t be sitting anywhere until we’ve discussed your intentions towards my daughter.” 

“Another thing you should really have established before she fell for me,” smirked Killian. David kept his face implacable. Killian sighed. 

“Sheriff Swan, I have come here this evening to escort the princess to a ball,” he announced with a flourish of his hand. “My intentions are almost entirely honourable. May I be granted leave to enter, before I freeze my bollocks off out here?”

David chuckled, and opened the door wider to allow him in. It wasn’t until he’d closed it again and followed Killian into the living room that he realised. 

“Wait, what do you mean almost entirely?”

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

Emma had to concede that her mom had been right about making an entrance. The five minutes Snow made her wait in her room had felt like an eternity, but the awestruck look on Killian’s face when she finally came downstairs was entirely worth it. 

“You are stunning, Emma,” he breathed. 

She flushed pink with pleasure, but managed a small smirk. “I know,” she said, and he grinned approvingly at her cheek. “You’re not so bad yourself,” she added. He was wearing the same charcoal grey suit he’d worn at Christmas, only this time with a dark blue shirt, an embroidered waistcoat, and no tie. 

“Absolutely not,” he’d declared, over the protests of both Liam and Belle. “There’s no rule that says I have to wear one, and I’d rather not suffocate to death at the age of seventeen, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“At least do up your buttons,” Liam had implored him. “You’ve got chest hair showing.” 

“And what’s wrong with that?” The hair had started growing around the time his voice had deepened, and Killian made no secret of the fact that he was delighted by it. 

Emma made no secret of that fact either, letting her gaze linger a bit too long on his open collar, while his lingered on the neck and shoulders left bare by the narrow straps of her dress and her pinned-up hair. David cleared his throat pointedly, still a bit put out over “almost entirely honourable” then Snow stepped in with her camera to relieve the tension by annoying everyone, making Emma and Killian stand in half a dozen different poses and moving them around the room in an attempt to find the best light. 

Finally they were on their way, out the door and headed to Liam’s car, which Killian, armed with his brand new shiny license, would be driving. 

Or at least Emma had thought that was the plan. 

“Do you want me to drive?” she asked innocently when he moved automatically to the right-hand door, grinning when his ears turned pink. 

“Right,” he said. “I’m just going to play this like I was being a gentleman and opening your door for you, and not like I’ve been in this country nearly a year and still can’t remember which side of the bloody car is which.” He opened the door with a flourish and held out his hand to her. “Milady.”

Secretly delighted, Emma took his hand and allowed him to help her into the car, smoothing her skirt over her legs as he shut the door behind her and moved to the driver’s side. 

He smiled at her. “Ready, Swan?”

She smiled back as the butterflies soared and dipped in a graceful pas-de-deux. “Let’s go,” she said. 

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

Emma loved many, many things about Killian. His humour and intelligence, his quick snark, his deep passions and the vulnerability that he showed only to her. But one thing she had never anticipated loving in him was his ability to dance. 

“How did you learn how to do this?” she laughed, as he twirled and dipped her around the floor of the school gym, which had been decorated beyond recognition by Aurora and the rest of the prom committee. Emma had to admit she’d done a good job. 

“My mum,” replied Killian, spinning her back into his arms. The warmth of his hand at her waist made her shiver. “She loved to dance, but once my father started drinking he wouldn’t take her out anymore. So she taught Liam. They used to waltz around the living room, bumping into all the furniture but always laughing.” He grinned at the memory. “She laughed a lot, my mum. I was too young to learn as my brother did, but I do remember standing on her feet as she showed me the steps. After she died, Liam made certain I learned how to dance properly. I think— I think he wanted to keep a part of her alive.” 

“I’m so sorry you lost her, Killian.” 

“Yeah.” He was still smiling but his eyes were sad. “I never really knew her, that’s the thought I always come back to. I wish I’d had a chance to know her.” 

“I’m sure she loved you.” 

“She did. That I do remember. She used to sing me lullabies when my father came home drunk and angry and I was scared. She would hold me on her lap and sing until I fell asleep. That’s my earliest memory, her singing.” 

“That’s why you like to sing.” 

“It’s one of the reasons.” 

The music changed to something soft and slow, and they spun gracefully through the crowd around them. Emma was aware that they were attracting attention —ballroom dancing was not exactly commonplace at high school proms— but she didn’t care. She put her head on Killian’s shoulder and his hand slid to her lower back, holding her close. She felt him rest his cheek against the side of her head as his steps slowed until they were simply swaying, their bodies pressed tightly together. They stayed that way through several song changes, until Killian felt a tap on his shoulder and looked up to see Aurora’s mother, who was chaperoning the dance, looking at him indulgently. 

“I’ve looked the other way for as long as I reasonably can I’m afraid, Killian,” she said. “And now I’m going to need you to at least pretend to respect the rules. Space between you at all times.” 

“What?” said Emma, suddenly taking notice of what was going on, blinking as though coming out of a dream. 

Rose smiled. “Maybe you two should take a break from dancing,” she said. “Sit down for a while, get something to drink.” 

“Right,” said Killian, taking Emma’s hand. She had a point; a little amused attention for waltzing to Taylor Swift was one thing, but they didn’t need to be making a such a spectacle of themselves that even the chaperones were taking notice. “Let’s go, love, I see Ruby and Mulan over in the corner there.” He pulled Emma towards the small table where their friends were sitting, holding hands, with their heads close together. 

Ruby and Victor had broken up just after the New Year, at which point Ruby had made friends with the new exchange student from China. Or at least, everyone had thought they were friends, right up until they appeared at the prom together, arm in arm, Ruby in a formfitting red dress and Mulan in traditional Chinese men’s formal wear. 

Killian sat down and began chatting to Mulan in Mandarin, a language he’d convinced her to teach him in exchange for help with her English, and in which he was apparently now at least conversational, after all of four months. Emma watched him for a minute then shook her head. He was just ridiculously smart. 

“So,” she said, turning to Ruby, motioning between her friend and Mulan. “Is this for real? It’s not just a stunt?” 

“You mean am I really into girls?” asked Ruby, raising an eyebrow.

“That is what I mean.” 

“Yeah. I am. And boys. And, you know, really not into labels.” Ruby’s voice was forceful. 

“Fair enough,” said Emma, then paused for a minute, thinking. “You could have told me, you know,” she said finally. 

“I know.” Ruby didn’t meet her eyes. 

“I mean, I tell you everything.” 

Ruby dropped her head into her hands. 

“I basically talked your ear off about Killian.” 

“Ahhh! I know, Ems!” cried Ruby. “I didn’t tell anyone! I just— I mean, I always knew, I just hadn’t met anyone worth making it a thing for, so I just didn’t say anything. Mulan is worth making it a thing.” 

Emma threw her arms around her friend and gave her a fierce hug. “I’m happy for you, Rubes,” she said. 

Ruby hugged her back just as fiercely. “You’re my favourite girl,” she said. “Just, you know, not in a sexful way.” 

“I appreciate that,” laughed Emma.  

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

After the dance ended Emma and Killian drove out to the docks in silence. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, but it was a nervous one, full of anxious anticipation. Killian pulled into the harbourmaster’s parking spot and retrieved their overnight bags from the trunk before offering Emma his arm. She slipped her hand into his and leaned against his shoulder as they boarded the boat.

As soon as they were on board, Emma released Killian to kick off her shoes, then climbed barefoot down the ladder into the small living space beneath. She dropped the shoes on the floor as Killian followed her, then began to pull the pins from her hair. “I hate having my hair up,” she said with a small shrug when she noticed him watching her. “It’s heavy, and the pins dig into my scalp.” 

“It’s beautiful up,” he said. “But it’s beautiful no matter what you do to it. Here, love, let me.” Gently he pulled the pins from her hair and untwisted the locks as they fell from the intricate updo. When all had been removed he combed his fingers through it, loosening the curls and massaging the aches from her scalp. She sighed in bliss and let her hands slide under his jacket to flex against his waist as his cupped her face and he leaned down to kiss her. 

Emma had learned a great deal about kissing in the months that she and Killian had been together, about what she liked and what he liked and just how far they could take things before the intensity became too much to bear. This newfound skill and confidence plus the excitement of the evening and the reckless thrill of being truly alone with him for the first time soon had her taking the kiss from sweet and loving to blistering hot, leaving them panting and aching when they broke apart, hovering on the cusp of a monumental decision. 

Killian leaned his forehead against hers, his hand still curved around her cheek, fingers in her hair. “Emma,” he breathed, opening his eyes to watch her expression closely. “We should talk about this.” 

“I know,” she replied. 

“What do you want to do?”

“I want to have sex with you,” she declared, surprising a laugh from him with her bluntness. She blushed. “But only if that’s truly what you want too.”

“It is.”

“Are you sure, Killian? I don’t want to pressure you, it’s fine if we don’t—”

“I’m sure. I love you and I trust you, and I don’t want to live at the mercy of my memories anymore.” He stroked her cheek and the look in his eyes set her butterflies on fire. “And I promise you,” he whispered, “that right in this moment, Emma, there is no one else in my head. Only you.”

Swamped with love, Emma stood on her toes and kissed him, holding him tightly as her heart tried to beat right out of her chest. Tonight marked a big step for both of them, but they loved each other and she knew that they were ready.

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

Later that night Killian lay in bed playing with a lock of Emma’s hair as she slept curled up against him. Physically he was tired, sated and sore in a very satisfying way, but his mind and heart refused to let him sleep. He felt happier than he could ever recall being, happier than he could even have imagined just a year earlier, and he knew that the reason for that happiness was currently snoring softly against his chest. Of course other factors had contributed: he had worked hard on his mental health with invaluable assistance from Dr Hopper; focused on his studies and interests with Liam’s support; and once he’d allowed himself to adjust to American life, he’d come to feel surprisingly comfortable and at home in Storybrooke. But Emma had been the catalyst, the reason and motivation for his desire to be the best version of himself. 

It was an odd thing, thought Killian. He hadn’t thought of Milah at all that night, even as he’d made use of everything she’d taught him to ensure that Emma’s first experience with sex was a good one. It was nice to think that there was something positive that he could take from that whole ordeal, and when he thought back on it maybe he could remember that he had genuinely cared about her and had enjoyed many things about the time he’d spent with her, that it hadn’t been all stress and trauma and heartache. Dr Hopper said that he needed to forgive Milah and forgive himself, and Killian thought he may finally be ready to do that. Because of Emma. 

His love for her was almost overwhelming, terrifying in its intensity. Sheriff Swan, in another heart-to-heart they’d shared a few weeks prior, had assured him that it wouldn’t always be like that. As time passed and his relationship with Emma matured he would adjust to his feelings and learn to manage them. 

It doesn’t mean you’ll love her any less, David had said. Just that you won’t feel like it’s burning you up all the time. It’ll be more comfortable. For her too. 

He wondered if it was weird that he was starting to think of his girlfriend’s dad as a surrogate father. 

Emma shifted in his arms, snuggling closer and burrowing her nose into his chest. He tightened his arms around her, pressing his cheek onto the top of her head. He may one day grow comfortable with his love, thought Killian, but it would never lessen, never fade. Objectively he knew it was illogical to feel so sure of this. He was only seventeen, he could easily live another sixty, seventy, even eighty years. There was no way he could be certain of what the future held or how things might change for him and Emma, no way he could be certain that he would always love her. 

And yet he was. He and Emma were forever. He knew they were, the way he knew the sun would rise the next morning. It was simply a fact, one that would determine the course of the rest of his life. 

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

When Emma awoke the sun was streaming through the small porthole above the bed. Killian was asleep next to her, his hair in chaos and with a slight shadow along his jaw. He was going to be hairy in a few years, she thought fondly. She was looking forward to it. 

This was what she wanted to wake up to every morning for the rest of her life, Emma knew. Sunshine, Killian’s beautiful face, even the twinges in her muscles and the soreness  between her legs. If it meant they had done that the night before, she wanted stretches and extra-hot showers to be part of her morning routine. It had been glorious, everything she hadn’t dared to hope for. She knew, even in her inexperience, that Killian had taken special pains to make it so good for her. Every day, with everything he did, she loved him more. She wondered if that would ever stop. Was there an upper limit on one person’s capacity to love another? 

She was willing to spend her life finding out. 

Killian stirred and blinked, smiling as his eyes fell on her. “Good morning, my love,” he said. His voice was rough with sleep and that possessive pronoun killed her. 

“Morning,” she replied. “How are you feeling?”

“Wonderful.” He curled his arm around her waist and pulled her close, giving her a soft kiss that she returned eagerly. “And starving.” 

“Me too. I don’t want to leave here though.” 

“We don’t have to. No one’s expecting us for hours yet, and the galley has a gas stove and is fully stocked with breakfast foods.”

“Wow, someone thought ahead,” she teased.

“Indeed, and while I’d love to score some boyfriend points by claiming it was me, I have to confess that Liam is the culprit. He said if he saw my face before noon today I would no longer be his brother, and also some things on the subject of keeping my strength up that I’d prefer not to repeat verbatim.”

Emma flushed a little at the idea of Liam knowing what they’d been up to the night before, but then she supposed that their spending the night on the boat together was not exactly being subtle. Her parents would know too, and yeah, she was definitely not going to think about that. 

“Is there pancake mix?” she asked.  

“I think so. And bacon. God, I need bacon.” 

She’d been wrong earlier, Emma thought. Sunshine, Killian’s face, sore muscles, and pancakes with a side of bacon. That was what she wanted to wake up to. Every day. For the rest of her life. 

Notes: I debated long and hard about how to handle the issue of Emma and Killian having sex. Obviously it's something that's going to happen eventually, and I wanted to address it, especially given Killian's past. But I also wanted to keep this fic rated T, as several people had mentioned to me that they weren't comfortable with smut written about teenagers, a point of view I completely understand and respect. Eventually I decided that them sleeping together on prom night made narrative sense, even if it's a bit of a cliché, and I tried to write it in a T way. I failed. So the solution I eventually went with is this: No smut of any kind in the fic, but the scene I wrote (which actually turned out quite sweet and not excessively smutty, though it is descriptive) I've posted separately on Tumblr. You can find it here. If you choose to read it, please let me know what you think, specifically whether it's too much for teenagers and if you think it's suitable for inclusion in the fic or not. Thank you!

#cs ff #high school au #teenage captain swan #captain charming #prom night #another brick in the wall #profdanglaisstuff