#also so warm. once again I didn’t realize the house was still nighttime cold

[spinningwebsandtales]

The DMC Guys Taking Care of You While You’re Sick Headcanons

Being sick sucks but it helps when you have the Sparda guys around to help take care of you!

Requested by @mello-jello29​

Dante X FemReader

You aren’t sick often in life but when it happens it doesn’t matter what Dante is doing or where he is at. He’s going to be there.

He knows all about being shot, stabbed, ect ect. He just lets his regenerative healing take care of what ails him.

So that being said, he is a stranger when it comes to anything virus or cold related. So when you call telling him how bad you feel, he panics.

You try telling him to stay at home that you will be fine, but he is not having it. 

On his way he stops at the store and grabs a basket. And no medicine is safe in his relentless pursuit of things to make you feel better.

Tylenol? He grabbed every type there is. Nyquil? Daytime and nighttime packs a plenty.

He’s raiding the shelves relieving them of their tissues and cough drops. Before going to the grocery side. 

RIP soup shelves, Dante killed you.

You will no longer need soup, jello, juice, or pudding of any kind until the apocalypse.

When Dante finally gets there and you see how much he bought, you really didn’t know what you were going to do with everything he bought.

You decided that once you were better you’d donate the majority to the homeless shelters around town.

Dante is quick to shoo you back to bed as he can tell you’re running a fever just by the flush of your cheeks and bleary eyes.

You shiver relentlessly under the blankets and he just piles on more and more until you can feel yourself smothering. Except you’re still freezing.

When you tell him he’s launching himself and adding himself to the already heavy blankets.

“Dante,” you huffed under the weight of the blankets and full grown man. “You’re smothering me!”

“I’m trying to keep you warm babe,” he cooed. You rolled your eyes before kicking him off along with majority of the blankets. Once you could move again you held one end of the comforter up.

“Get in here you doofus.” While your fever had you both burning up and freezing, you couldn’t deny the comfort that Dante radiated as his arms wrapped around your shivering body.  He was your own personal heater to use as you needed it. He was more comfortable than the mountain of blankets he had piled on top of you. You nuzzled in closer playing with the chest hair that peeked from his unbuttoned shirt.

“It’s not fair that you don’t get sick,” you mumbled. “I wish I didn’t get sick.”

“Careful what you wish for babe,” Dante replied kissing the top of your head. “I’m part devil remember.”

“It’s hard to forget when you’re basically a living furnace,” you rolled your eyes while melting from the touch of his lips. 

Dante chuckled, “Just don’t forget I’m one hundred percent handsome devil.”

“That’s it get out of my bed and my house,” you shoved him weakly.

Vergil X FemReader

Like Dante, Vergil lacks any experience when it comes to dealing with colds, flus, ect ect.

But that being said he has a little more knowledge than his brother on how to take care of someone when they’re battling any kind of sickness.

He does like taking care of you in his own way, at times. But he also likes to give you space and let you take care of yourself.

You’re a grown woman and he doesn’t want to impede on your independence.

So he’s not going to take care of you unless you ask him.

He cares about you, but most of the time, thinks that his quest for power is more important than something that you can take care of on your own.

He’ll only make an effort when you ask him and he’s feeling generous.

Though when he sees you lethargic and sweating profusely it breaks his heart. Sure you had to ask for his help, but he didn’t understand how serious some sicknesses are despite having more knowledge than his brother.

Now that he knows and realizes how bad you are he’s there by your side taking care of all your needs. 

He makes homemade soup from a cookbook that he had noticed on one of your shelves.

While the soup simmers. He’s refilling your water cup by your bed, rewetting the wash cloth on your forehead, and finding more medicine to give you.

He leaves you to nap for a little bit before bringing you some soup. He’s adamant about feeding you.

“Vergil you don’t have to do this,” you said after swallowing a bite of soup. Despite your cold keeping you from tasting food like you would normally, it isn’t lost upon you on how good his soup his.

“You have let yourself get this way by not taking care of your body,” Vergil answered matter-of-factly before giving you a glaring look. He scooped more soup onto the spoon and it held it out towards you. “So it stands to reason that I need to help you and make sure you get the required nutrients to get better.”

You begrudgingly took the offered bite while glaring in return.

“Maybe if somebody didn’t make me worry so much I wouldn’t stress myself out enough to get sick.”

“Worry about me perhaps,” he asks and your cheeks flush, this time not from the fever.

“Maybe.”

He chuckles softly kissing your feverish forehead before holding out your water cup.

Nero X FemReader

Nero is a way better caretaker than his dad and uncle combined. 

Despite growing up not knowing his father and his mother absent in his life. Nero’s adopted family took good care of him.

He knows all the ins and outs of getting someone better.

Being one quarter devil he’s a little more susceptible to human colds and viruses though he is not sick for long at all. He once had a cold for like a day.

So he’s 100% ready to take care of you while you’re sick. Paging Doctor Nero.

Whatever medicines you need, he gets them, in moderation (looking at you Dante). Want a certain kind of soup? He’ll make it for you. Juice? Your fridge is stocked with your favorites, though he wants you to drink more water than anything.

He makes sure that you stay hydrated, that you’re taking medicine at the correct intervals, and he even changes your sheets when you’re taking a much needed shower or bath.

Nero even stays, unwilling to let you to be alone while you’re feeling so bad.

 He’s not worried about getting sick as he lays beside you holding you closely for comfort.

He wants you to know that he’ll always be there even if you aren’t at your best.

If you have to go to work he calls in sick for you and when you’re feeling well enough to go back he makes you a healthy lunch to take.

He’ll stick around to make sure that your house is kept clean so when you get home you can get the rest you need to fight whatever part of the cold that keeps clinging to you.

“I’m home,” you mumbled in exhaustion. While you were still sick, you weren’t running a fever and you couldn’t afford to take any more time off. Though your body was feeling a little worse from the exertion you put it through, just taking your shoes off was becoming a chore. Nero stepped out of the kitchen wiping his hands on a towel. His gaze softened seeing your tired state before he’s placing a kiss on your flushed cheek.

“Rough day,” he asks helping you out of your jacket.

“Not really,” you reply accepting his help graciously. “It wasn’t too bad. It’s this stupid cold it makes everything harder.”

“You’ll get better. You’re at the cusp of healing,” Nero hung up your jacket before going back to the kitchen. “Take a shower and get comfortable dinner is almost ready.”

“Mmmm,” you moan at the thought. “It smells amazing. I could smell dinner from the outside. I gotta say though Nero, I didn’t know I’m dating a doctor and a nanny.”

“We’ll see if you call me nanny later on,” he smirked before disappearing.

“I’m too tired to playyyy,” you whine heading towards the bathroom to start the water.

“I’ll do all the work,” he yells and just by the tone of his voice you can hear his mischievous side at play.

V X FemReader

V is at your side the second he knows that you aren’t feeling well. He doesn’t care how sick you are and that he has a severe chance of catching whatever ails you, he’s going to be there to lavish all the attention and healing you require.

You want canned soup? He’ll get it ready. You want homemade soup? Your wish is his command. Freshly squeezed orange juice? He’s your guy.

Nothing is too good or too difficult to do for you. Especially when you are not feeling your best.

He takes pride in knowing you as well as the book of poetry he keeps and knows whatever makes you happy.

He keeps you company reading you poetry while you eat or stay by your side being a quiet safe presence while you sleep.

He refuses to leave you alone until you are back on your feet.

He cares for you so much that he doesn’t care what it takes or he has to do, he just wants you better again.

He does get frustrated if his helping doesn’t get you better soon. He feels like he failed you.

“I don’t understand why you aren’t better now,” V groans face planting into your blankets.

You stroke his head gently, playing with the long strands of his dark hair. V is never one to get overwhelmed or show his frustration easily. So your heart breaks at his disgruntled state at your expense of being stuck sick in bed.

“I’ll get better soon,” you comfort him. “It just takes time, but I’m feeling so much better because you have taken such good care of me. I’m really thankful for you V and all that you do for me.”

“Are sure I’ve done enough,” he looked up from the blankets and you melted when those dark eyes met yours.

“Always,” you smile and kiss his forehead.

#Dante X Reader #Dante / Reader #Vergil X Reader #Vergil / Reader #Nero X Reader #Nero / Reader #V X Reader #V / Reader #DMC #Devil May Cry #Not My Gif #My Writing #Request

[fractallogic]

I was all set to stream the hockey game when I realized it would be nationally televised (because it’s an outdoor game between two of the best teams in the league, duh)

I was all set to listen to the radio broadcast when all of the streams crapped out

I sat through literally 45-60 min of intermission/deliberation after the first period (because there was direct sun on like a third of the ice, so it was turning everything to slush and the ice kept having to be patched between plays, so everyone was like “mmm is it actually a smart idea to keep playing right now???”)

...only to find out that they would be postponing the game to later today (great!! Safest choice for all involved!)

...at 9 PM Lake Tahoe time.

I WAS SO STOKED FOR AN AFTERNOON GAME OUTSIDE BUT NOOOOOOOOO now I can’t even listen to the last couple periods because it’s only 10:30 and I’m already falling asleep, and I have a yoga thing tomorrow (self-massage, teachers-only... gonna be good) at 10, before which I need to buy my turnips... so... obviously I can’t stay up until like 2 AM for something that will rile me up even more so I stay up even later!!

I miss hockey. It’s been like a week and a half since I watched a game for various reasons.

MONDAY. Monday we will watch.

#hockey yelling #today was shaping up to be a great day! #yoga. a little work. hockey with a little more work. dinner. profit. you know. #the yoga manager was also going to come down to deliver a check and a present to me and one of the other teachers??? #but her truck wouldn’t start and her bf had gone to work and couldn’t jump her #so. no hockey. no present/check. just yoga and work and an asshole cat who keeps trying to eat the plants while I’m in savasana #she’s lucky she’s so cute and soft and that I love feisty asshole cats #also so warm. once again I didn’t realize the house was still nighttime cold #and that’s why I was so cold all day!! #plus it took me a solid two hours to warm up after my walk today #because I was an idiot and didn’t put on a scarf or real pants over my yoga pants #so my face and legs hurt because they were so cold #and my core was (as expected) disgustingly sweaty #well anyway #the time has come for me to shower and then have my dessert of chocolate milk and Oreos #while I wait for the cat to come out from under my bed so I can put her to bed too

[suchalonelysunflower]

I gave you my heart (h.s)

Pairing: Harry Styles X Reader

Requested: Yes!

Summary: Harry is trying to propose to you, but his family is getting in the way.

Warnings: Fluff. Angst if you really pay attention. Language. Mentions of alcohol (barely) Some grammatical errors (English is not my first language, sorry!)

Word count: 4.1 K

Author’s Note: Oh how I missed writing for Harry! And a fluffy piece nonetheless! Who am I? Well, this is a Holiday fic (non specific) and I’m also planning to do a 5SOS holiday fic by the end of the year, so stay tuned! 🌻 Reblogs, comments, feedbacks and likes are welcomed and encouraged! Please, I love to hear from you guys 💕 Hope you like it and Happy Reading 🦋✨

My materialist // wanna be on my tag list?

Picture form Pinterest. Title from the song “last Christmas”

Ok i know this is cheesy but hear me out, Harry proposing on Christmas with his family around.

Harry kneeled in front of you. His hands were intertwined with yours as he spoke of all the grand adventures you had and how much he adores you while your eyes filled with glossy cold tears. He couldn’t see his mum from where he was, but he could already tell she started crying as well while Gemma held her in a side hug, watching the scene they never thought would happen being displayed in front of them.

Words of praise left his mouth like a symphony, knowing that he will never get tired of praising you as the angel you were. Tears started forming in his eyes as he promised you a lifetime of love and adventure, hoping with all his heart you would say yes.

They all knew the question that was going to pop out of his lips any time now.

“So, Y/N L/N” He said, as the fireworks started to go off behind them “Will you marry me?”

You wiped your tears with the back of your hand and with a smile you answered:

“You better wake up before I leave you in the car”

Harry opened his eyes in shock, cursing under his breath as he realized he had fallen asleep without realizing.

You were on your way to Anne’s house for the Holidays, just like you promised a few months ago when Harry finalized all his tour arrangements. You were very excited to see Harry’s family again, it has been a while since you got to spend any time with them as you accompanied Harry across the world for the most part of the past year. You love them with all your heart and it comforts you to know that the feeling is completely mutual - Anne practically adopting you the minute you came through the door as Harry’s partner a few years ago and Gemma quickly becoming your best friend over the span of a few minutes, bonding over clothes, movies and embarassing Harry stories.

Harry loved how much you and his family love each other, for that is all he asked. For him there are only three things that matter most: His music and his fans; His family and, of course, you. He felt really blessed to have you in his life during all these years, knowing that you love him just as much as he loves you (although he would always fight that he loves you more) You were his rock, his best friend, his world… and he cannot wait to put a rock on that hand to prove that to you.

He got the ring a few months prior, but he knew he wanted to marry you from the first moment he saw you interact with his family. He still remembers that cold December night when he came downstairs looking for you and you were sleeping on the couch next to Gemma. You have been talking all night and were exhausted by the time you both finished that bottle of wine. He stood on the entrance of the living room watching the cozy scene with a smile plastered across his face. He knew he loved you back then, but his happiness at that moment was unmatched.

He was so entranced by the picture that he didn’t notice Anne standing beside him.

“This one’s a keeper” She said in a low voice as she watched you both with tenderness in her eyes. But Harry already knew that.

And now, as you were driving the cold snowy roads of Cheshire, Harry drifted back from his fantasy waiting to come true. Thinking back and forward of the little velvet box that is hidden in his suitcase.

“Sorry,” He said with a yawn “Didn’t notice I fell asleep”

You smiled at him but kept your eyes on the road “It’s okay, love. I know you must be tired of the trip. That is why I asked you to switch seats and let me drive in the first place”

Harry stared at you for a moment, completely enamored by your thoughtfulness. He really was lucky to have you.

“Besides,” You joke “With your driving skills, we might get to Homes Chapel the day after the Holidays if we are lucky”

Harry rolled his eyes “Oh, bug off!” He said as he mocked annoyance, but his laugher soon joined yours as you continued your way towards his childhood home.

*

You let out a happy squeal once you noticed Anne standing in front of her house from a distance, wasting no time on parking the car so you could run up to her and hug her.

“Aww I’m so glad you’re finally here!” Said the matriarch of the Styles’ family as she crushed your body in a tight hug “I’m never letting you go a year without visiting us again!”

“It will not happen again! I promise” You answered with a laugh.

She let you go just enough so she could place her palm on your cheek, caressing it in a motherly way “You better! And in any case you could always run away from my son and come stay here for as long as you want!”

This is when Harry decided to interject. He was standing behind you, smiling at the exchange that was happening in front of him.

“Oi! No need for that now, mum”

Anne laughed as she went to hug her son, murmuring about how if he doesn’t keep an eye on you she would steal you from him without a second thought.

After a few more greetings, Anne ushered you into the house. The warm environment and the smell of a homemade meal made you feel at home.

You always loved to come and visit Harry’s childhood home. It reminded you of him, the real Harry you got to know on a more personal and deep level. The Harry that let all his walls down and let you in, welcoming you to his house, his family and friends and into his heart. The Harry you love with all your being.

“‘m gonna head and help mum with dinner” Your boyfriend said as he hung his coat by the door “You’ve been driving all day, love. You should rest”

He pressed his chest to your back and rounded his arms around your waist to hold you closer before placing a kiss to the shell of your ear. You hummed “‘m not tired. I don’t think I could rest till much later.”

“Still,” Harry said “At least try to rest? Don’t want you to feel sick and I know you’ll hate to miss all the traditions”

You sighed “At least that way I’ll get you to take care of me, right?” You smiled at him and he smiled back.

“Always, darling”

You placed a couple little chaste kisses to his lips, pulling away from his grasp before he started to try and deepend them as he always does “‘m gonna go unpack my suitcase then. Want me to unpack yours?”

Harry was about to answer when the alarms in his head went off, reminding him of the little box you should definitely not find “Uh, n-no. I have to show something to my mum” He lied “I’ll unpack my stuff later. Thank you, though”

His response got you a little confused, but you just shrug your shoulders and turned around towards the guest room, aka: Harry’s old room. Letting Harry let out a relief breath once you went out of sight. This was going to be a long holiday.

*

Gemma arrived later that night. She didn’t even put her luggage on the ground before she caught your eye and ran to hug you.

“Oh my god” She said, hugging you tighter “I have so much to tell you!”

“Oh sure,” Harry said, walking towards her as she almost left you out of breath “I’m just your brother who you haven’t seen in a long time… Why should I get a hug?”

The older Styles rolled her eyes “Because I see you in every social media post there is you dork! Besides, I have had Y/N in my life rather recently compared to living with you under the same roof for almost seventeen years”

Harry placed his hand over his heart and mocked a hurt expression, making his sister laugh before she moved on to wrap him into a hug.

“I missed you, you wanker” She said, hiding some love in the insult.

“Me too, jerk”

“But I missed Y/N more” She said with a grin, pulling away from Harry and turning back to you. Intertwining your arms so you’d walk together into the living room “So, I was telling you…”

Hours flew by and before you’d realized it was almost 2 am when you and Gemma made your ways to your respected rooms. You noticed that Harry went to bed a little earlier and you guessed he would be asleep by now.

You found your boyfriend safe and tucked away in dreams once you opened the door. You smiled to yourself as you admired his sleeping figure sprawled all over the bed with one arm spread over your side, waiting for you to cuddle up against it.

A yawn flew through you as the exhaustion of the day settled in. You quickly changed into your cozy pajamas, did your nighttime routine and layed in bed next to Harry, who, as soon as he felt you by his side, pulled your body closer to him.

“Hi” He said in a whisper, kissing the shell of your ear.

“I thought you were sleeping, H” You giggled as you felt his hand caress your side.

“Couldn’t sleep well without you, you know that”

And indeed you did. Harry always complained whenever he was on tour that he missed you too much and that he needed you even more “I just feel better when I’m with you, love. I do better. It’s like you are my lucky charm or something” He’d always said before he convinced you to travel the world with him. And, to be honest, you did not need that much convincing. If you could spend all your living days with Harry, you would.

“Wha’ time is it anyways?” He asked.

“Late” You shrugged, turning your body so you were facing him “I’m sorry. We didn’t realize we spent all night talking”

Harry furrowed his eyebrows “Why are you apologizing for? I love when you spend time with my family”

“But I almost didn’t spend time with you!”

Harry chuckled “It’s okay, love. I know how my mum and sister can get whenever you are around. They love you almost as much as I do”

“Well, Gemma did say she loved me more....” You teased, making Harry scoff.

“Not possible” He pressed his lips to yours, trying to make your worry disappear “‘m serious, though. Don’t be sorry for spending too much time with them. I swear it 's fine. We could have time for ourselves at any point of the Holiday”

You murmured a soft ‘okay’ before drifting into a peaceful sleep. Harry watched you sleep for a few minutes, taking in the joyful peace that your presence gifted to him whenever you were around. Thinking about how he cannot wait to make you an official Styles.

However, that was not going to be an easy job.

*

As the day passed, you and Harry had less and less time for yourselves as Anne and Gemma got you two completely busy with different activities. From getting the groceries, to help one of them decorate the house or even to just take a walk. You were never not doing something.

And it wasn’t like a bad thing either. On the contrary, you were having the time of your life sharing all of these amazing traditions with Harry’s family. They made you feel welcome and cared for, something that was fairly new to you since you met Harry.

You loved decorating the House and baking cookies with Anne, and it felt so great to have a friend like Gemma around to take the seriousness out of a serious situation and just let you have your fun. But you would be lying if you’d say that you don’t miss your boyfriend.

Even though Harry was always just mere feet from you, he was also caught up in various activities and could barely spend any time with you and that was making him frustrated.

The Holidays were stressful enough, but for Harry this took a whole other level when he thought about the proposal and how many times he failed at getting you two alone so he could do it.

The first miss opportunity came when it started snowing the day after your arrival. He knew how much you loved snow because, in your own words, it made it all seem magical. So when he woke up early that day, he decided that now was the time and that he was ready to pop up the big question. He was going to ask you to play in the snow - just like you usually do - and make a snowman. But the surprise would come with the ring that would be on the snowman’s finger, ready to be placed on your hand if you said yes. Sadly, when you two got ready to go and play, Anne solicited yours and Harry’s help to go and take some food to the shelter that was not so far away from here, a tradition the Styles’ family have been doing since Harry was a baby. When you came back, most of the snow had melted and you were too tired to even think of going outside again.

The second time Harry’s plan got held up was on a frosty night. He had prepared a cozy inside picnic in front of the fireplace for only you and him. He knew that Anne would be out with some of her friends and that Gemma had plans to meet up with someone on a date, so they wouldn’t be able to interrupt in any way. He got a bottle of wine, a charcuterie board, some chocolate covered strawberries, a fluffy blanket and some candles to light up the dark room. He also made you change in your pajamas so you’ll be even more comfortable during the date. Everything went according to plan, his hand almost reaching for the velvet box he hid under one of the couch’s cushions when Gemma came early from her date, completely ruining the moment as she came into the room fuming because she got stood up. Needless to say he did not propose that night.

Harry was convinced that the third time was the charm. Since it was obvious he couldn’t propose in the house without being rudely interrupted every time, he was going to take you out for lunch and then go ice skating, one of your favorite winter activities. Yes, he was aware that it wasn’t his most elaborated plans, but he didn’t know what to do. Plus, he had talked to the owner of the ice skating pit beforehand, asking him to please let them have at least one hour of privacy so he could propose in peace. The owner even promised him to play the playlist Harry made for you and to add some special lightning to make the moment more romantic.

Feeling excited, Harry ran down the stairs to give you the news of your date. But his face fell when he saw you getting ready to go out with Gemma and his mum.

“Are you going out?” He asked as he saw you put on your coat.

“Yes,” You answered with a smile, but that smile soon felt when you saw the disappointment in Harry’s eyes “Your mum asked me and Gemma to go for a last minute shopping run… Harry are you okay, love?”

Your boyfriend closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, a habit he acquired whenever he was frustrated “‘m perfect” He mumbled, turning around to go back to your shared room.

But you were quicker as you grabbed him softly by the arm to make him stop in his tracks. Slowly making him turn around so he was face to face with you “Don’t lie, H. What is going on?”

“‘m just,” He started, but he couldn’t even look you in the eyes as he tried to find the right words to say to you, almost feeling like he is failing you somehow “We never got the chance to spend some time together, Y/N. You are always busy or I am always busy with my mum or with Gemma that I almost didn’t see you this whole trip and I-I just miss you”

Your eyes softened and your heart fluttered with his words. You missed him too, much more than you could say. Everytime you find some time for yourselves you get interrupted and by the end of the day you are both too tired to do anything else besides sleeping. You could tell Harry was frustrated by this whole ordeal, you just didn’t imagine it would affect him this much.

You cupped his cheek and brought him into a sweet kiss “I miss you too, love. Very much” You watched how Harry’s green eyes softened, but they still held an unspoken sadness “If you want me to stay with you, then I’ll stay with you. I don’t need to go with them, you know?”

Harry sighed, placing his hand over yours and caressing it with his thumb “I know” He said as he gave a kiss to your palm “You know how much I love seeing you hanging out with them and I know how much you enjoy it. You should go”

“But Harry-”

“Go, have fun!” He said in a cheerful tone as he brought you closer to give you a hug “I’ll be fine, love. I just want you to remember this Holiday and to enjoy it as much as you can”

“Are you sure? Because I can stay if you-”

“‘m sure,” He smiled, placing a kiss on your forehead, “Go, darling. They must be waitin’”

You smiled back at him and pecked his lips before turning around and closing the front door. Missing for just a second the way Harry’s smile dropped as he saw his plan being shut down once again.

*

He wasn’t proud of his last resort. He knew you deserved an epic proposal, something that could come out from an Oscar winning movie. Something that was as special as you are. And he was beating himself for ruining every chance he’s got to do this properly, but he promised himself that he would not let you - nor him - return home without a shiny rock on your hand. And a Styles never backs down from a promise.

So, with his heart almost beating out of his chest, he placed the gift bag with the other gifts that adorned the living room. Everything will be done tomorrow and there is no turning back now. It was now or never.

The next morning, you found yourself caught up in another Styles’ tradition. You were all sitting in the living room wearing your coziest pajamas as you drank hot cocoa and ate some gingerbread cookies with a pinch of peppermint. It was almost time to open the presents and you could tell Harry was feeling rather anxious.

“Did you sleep well?” You asked as you curreled up to him on the couch that was facing Anne and Gemma, who were already starting to distribute the presents among you.

Harry hummed as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders, turning his face so he was looking at you. He could swear in that moment that he has never seen someone as beautiful as you right now as you watched him with doe eyes, your hair a little bit messy and a thin layer of chocolate decorating your upper lip. He was completely and utterly in love with you.

“Yeah, why’d you ask?”

You shrugged “You were tossing and turning a lot last night, almost like you were nervous or something. Are you sure everything’s alright?”

Harry smiled “I got you, don’t I? How could anything not be alright?”

You rolled your eyes at his cheesy remark, but quickly gave him a kiss on the cheek. Harry didn’t miss the way your cheeks blushed.

“I asked Anne and Gemma to give us a day for ourselves” You said after a moment. Harry looked at you surprised. You couldn't know..? “I told them I felt guilty that I haven’t spent any time with you since we arrived and they understood” You smiled at him “I got you all for myself today, mr. Styles”

Harry’s eyes filled with glee as he brought your lips to him, kissing you with all the love he could pour at the moment.

“Uh, mum?” Gemma’s voice interrupted the scene “I don’t think this is mine” She said as she opened a gift bag.

“No? It’s a jewelry bag so I thought-”

Gemma shook her head “No! This is definitely not for me” She said as she took the little velvet box from inside, making the room go completely quiet. In that moment, all eyes went to Harry as he watched the scene with horror.

“Oh shit” He said, untangling himself form you so he could grab the box from his sister’s hand “Actually, this is mine”

All three of you stayed quiet as he grabbed your hand and kneeled in front of your sitting figure on the sofa.

“Oh my god” You said, covering your mouth that almost fell to the ground because of the shock.

“Oh my god” Gemma and Anne said in unison as they realized what was happening in front of them.

“Y/N,” Harry said looking into your eyes “Let me start by saying that this is not how things were supposed to go. And I’m not just talking about my sister opening your gift. I’ve been trying to propose for as long as this Holiday lasted. Waiting for the perfect moment because you are my perfect half, my soulmate and you deserve nothing less than pure and utter perfection, my love. And I’m sorry I can’t give that to you now”

You could feel the tears pouring down your face since the moment he kneeled in front of you, but hearing Harry say that he wanted to propose all along made you cry harder, how did you get so lucky?

“I knew I had to do this here, for this is the place where I knew I wanted to marry you the first time we came to visit. I have loved you from the very first moment you said hello, and I knew from that instant that you were going to become my favorite hello and my most painful goodbye. Y/N you are magic, my love. My lucky charm. Everything I do, everything I say or think or sing is for and because of you. You are my muse and my best friend. My anchor and my wings. I cannot live without you nor do I ever want to. You have bewitched me body and soul and I love you. I love you. I love you”

You could hear the distant sobs of Anne in the background, but all you could see was Harry. Harry, your best friend and lover. Harry, the person who filled your life with love and light. Harry, who was now on one knee, with tears in his eyes and a ring on his hand. Harry. Harry. Harry.

“You don’t have to say yes, but I really hope that you do. Y/N, my love. I love you more than life itself, you have made me a better man by loving me the way that you do. Let me love you the same now and forever. Will you marry me?”

You nodded through the tears “Yes, Harry. A million times yes!”

You swore Harry’s smile could light up the world in that moment as he slid the ring down your finger. But you didn’t even look as you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him like his mum and sister weren’t watching, throwing the both of you to the floor.

Anne and Gemma started clapping, celebrating the new beginning of the young couple. Because these holidays had a new meaning now, since now and forever they will be remembered as the day you said “yes” to the love of your life.

Tags: @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof @multistann @mystic-232

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #suchalonelysunflower #harry styles fluff #harry styles fic #harry styles love #harry one direction #harry 1d #solo harry #holiday Harry #harry styles x reader #anne twist #gemma styles #harry fic #harry fanfiction #harry fanfic #harry styles 2020 #harry x gender neutral! reader #fine line #h.s #h.s imagine #hshq #harry edward styles

[marvelsbanner]

The Little Things

Summary: What happens when shy, oblivious Bruce Banner takes an interest in the new Avengers recruit. 

Pairing: Bruce Banner x y/n, you

Warnings: None!  

Word Count: ~1300

A/N: This is my first ever fanfic I’ve put out onto Tumblr, please let me know what you think! Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much welcome!! All mistakes are my own. :-)

It started with little things- minuscule really, things you never would have noticed if you were not a trained spy who was paid to notice the little details.

The way there was always a new pack of gum bought for you when the groceries came,

The way someone kept buying jam until they bought one you liked,

The way the blankets seemed extra warm after you would come inside from your nighttime run, despite the rest of the house being cold,

The way the coffee pot was already brewing by the time you managed to crawl out of bed,

Yes, someone was noticing you. But you didn’t know who.

-

Bruce was never really the observant type. Numbers and graphs, those he could interpret. He never did have much luck with human emotions and behaviors. Someone could have walked up to him and flirted right to his face and he would have been none the wiser.

That is, until y/n joined the equation.

She was the newest Avenger, none of the team knew much about her besides Fury. She was somewhere between the age of Wanda and Natasha, he imagined. She had gone through a similar training to Natasha, the organization was only recently infiltrated and y/n was the only one they were able to recruit back to SHIELD.

He didn’t want to know what happened to the others.

She was smart, incredibly smart. Quick-witted, with a very dry sense of humor. Her guard was always up- not unlike the rest of the team when they first met each other in New York.

She mostly kept to herself, never quite giving him or anyone else besides Natasha a second glance. So he couldn’t explain why he was so drawn to her.

Maybe it was her soft features, a contrast to the muscles she’s built over years of training. Her eyes- soft under the sharp stare of a built assassin. There was more to her than what she showed, and boy did he want to know more.

And so he tried, to know more that is. He observed her more closely than anyone he’s known before.

He noticed she was constantly chewing gum, whether it helped her focus or it was a force of habit he would never know but he did notice the gum, and so he maybe sort of might have added a pack of spearmint gum into the online shopping cart Pepper was making one week.

And he maybe sort of might have been adding a pack of gum each week they ordered groceries.

He noticed when you made a retort about preferring jam over nut butter, and realized that they actually didn’t have any jam in the house. So naturally, he maybe sort of kind of might have added a jar of jam into the online shopping cart each week until he found one she would use.

It took three tries: not strawberry, not grape, but raspberry was her drug of choice. He found it endearing.

He couldn't help the feeling of pride and something else that swelled in his chest when he saw the smile that crept onto her face when she saw the jam in the cupboard.

He noticed you got cold quite easily, usually opting for a thick jumper over your training uniform. Especially after your evening runs when the sun had set, when you would come home shivering and bundle in the blankets for the next half hour.

So he might have started throwing your favorite blanket into the dryer to warm up around the time you would usually return. Nothing much, just anything a friendly coworker would do- right?

He ran into Pepper one night and she gave a vow of secrecy, knowing if she blabbed to Tony about Bruce's little crush he wouldn’t be able to keep his big fat mouth shut.

He noticed you were the second person to awake after himself (and he would sometimes not have gone to bed at all) and the first to make coffee in the morning, so he decided it would only be considerate to turn the coffee pot on to brew so you had one less thing to worry about in the mornings.

And he also noticed that you didn’t seem to notice all of these things, acting as if it was all part of a normal day. And for that, he was grateful, because he didn’t know how you would feel if you knew it was him.

Wouldn't know how to explain why he was doing all these things for you. Deep down, he knew that he knew, but he also knew he couldn't afford those kinds of feelings with his job.

-

It took a month. A whole entire 31 days before you realized that the only one who woke up earlier than you was Bruce, the only person that would be making the coffee for you in the morning.

Once you noticed that, it all started shifting into place.

Bruce lounging in the living area when you got back from your runs, sitting in the kitchen making sure you were properly fueling yourself for your workouts (even though he didn’t eat half as often as you did), always making sure you were okay after a rough mission and feeling included when the team is talking in meetings and you could not believe you missed the way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t looking. Then again, apparently up until now you weren’t.

You wanted to confront him, but were unsure of how to do it, pacing around the hallway in front of his room on your joint floor.

That's when you heard the shower start from his bathroom, and it clicked.

You ran to the laundry room, grabbing a thick, fluffy, green towel and throwing it in the dryer for a minute before returning to Bruce’s room. You heard the water still running and took that as your okay to enter.

You gave a heavy rap on the door so that he could hear over the stream of water, and you heard him give a confused shout of “Uhh... I’m... kinda busy right now. Unless Tony spilled flesh-eating chemicals on himself I’ll be out in a few more minutes.”

You gave a slight chuckle before opening the door and throwing the towel on the sink counter, hearing him give a slight yelp at the presence of someone else in the bathroom.

He peeked his head around the curtain, red flush running up his neck onto his cheeks, water dripping from his mess of dark curls. He really was handsome.. 

“Y/n.. what are you-“

“I heard the water going and thought you might need a towel. I threw it in the dryer for a bit, should be nice and toasty for ya. Just repaying the favor” and you gave a small wink as the realization hit him and he ducked his head, flushing even more-if that was even possible.

You think the red flush suited him much more than green, and decided you would do anything to see more of that lovely shade on him.

You turned to go out of the door before turning your head over your shoulder to say “You know Doc, if you ever wanted to actually talk to me- you could always just ask me to dinner. If that’s something that interests you.” You gave another wink before closing the door and swiftly leaving the room.

Bruce’s heart was beating rapidly even after you had left, letting his head rest against the cold tile and thinking about how on earth he was going to approach you after THAT.

Maybe there was one thing that he didn’t notice, that you did notice him. Maybe just as much as he noticed you. 

#bruce banner x reader #bruce banner x you #bruce banner x y/n #bruce banner fanfiction #bruce banner fluff #bruce banner #doctor banner #hulk #the hulk #marvel #mcu #avengers x you #avengers x reader #bruce banner x fem!reader #fanfic #avengers fanfic #mark ruffalo #mark buffalo x reader #y/n #marvelsbanner

[soulwillower]

heat waves • stanley uris

(stanley uris x reader smut)  

requested: stanley uris fic where he plays baseball and she plays softball please? best friends to lovers if you can! (bonus for borrowing each other's clothes) 

warnings: softball player! reader, swearing, smut at the end sorry, oral (male receiving), fluff mostly though, i promise, unedited as fuck i wrote this all in the last few hours LOL

i hope u dont mind i added smut at the end

(this was inspired partly by the song heat waves by glass animals but just a bit idk) 

[losers + reader are 18+.]

3.2k words i think

♡

it was hot.

in fact it was boiling fucking hot, in stan's opinion, and despite loving nearly everything about summer, the heat was the absolute worst of those characteristics by far. 

he sighs as he flies down the backroads, away from the baseball fields and towards his house. he's pushing his curls back from his face and groaning as he feels sweat beads on his forehead, his eyes catching the dying sunlight and making him itch to wash his hands.

it's june, and there's a deep heatwave that hit derry that's caused all the a/c units at the store richie works at to disappear from the shelves, the public pool that bill and eddie work at the become overcrowded with kids and families escaping the heat, and the baseball fields to be extremely blistering as mike, stan, and you had to stand under the sun all day the last two days.

his lips twitch up faintly at the thought of earlier today, when he'd had a ten minute break and had ran over in his spikes with mike to catch an inning of the softball game on the fields adjacent to theirs. 

the only reason they'd gone was to see you play, of course - and to your embarrassment, they'd caught right when you'd stepped to the plate and had hollered "yeah, baby! y/n/n!" loud enough to make everybody in the stands' head turn and embarrassing enough to make you giggle as you waited for the pitch. 

you'd hit a double then, which had also scored in two runs and stan had seen your smile as you stood out at second base, breathing hard and brushing the dirt off your pants. and when he'd waved to you, you waved back with so much pride and excitement that he'd felt his heart skip a beat.

he smiles to himself as he turns the corner into his neighborhood, squinting slightly as the air moves in squiggles feet above the pavement. he swears with a shake of his head - he fucking hates the heat, but the double edged sword of baseball season in the summer makes it worth it. 

his phone buzzes from where it's placed in his cup holder and he grabs it, smiling at the y/n y/l/n !!!!! that pops up at the top. he rolls his eyes as he answers, remembering the time when you'd called him a psychopath for having your full name in his phone contact, claiming you knew for a fact he somehow didn't know any other y/n's, so you’d added the exclamation points ‘just for flare.’ 

he answers, "hey, how was the last game?" he asks as he pulls into his driveway. "we lost." you grumble and he hums as he pulls himself out of the car, leaving his bat bag in the trunk since he's got practice tomorrow. "i'm sorry to hear that. d'you want to come over?" he asks casually as he makes his way inside and sighs at the relief of the air conditioning. "yes, yeah. i do." you say and stan smiles down to the ground at your goofiness. as he enters the kitchen he realizes his parents are out, so he asks, "can you bring food?"

you sigh and he can imagine your grin as you say, "god, the shit i do for you, uris. why can't we go together?" you whine. he snorts, "but i have to shower." he tries to reason, but you retort, "i just spend thirteen hours in the heat too, stan, i need to shower as well."

he smiles, walking up the stairs towards his room. "alright, alright. we can go together, just come over and you can shower here."

"did i mention i love you?" you sigh, almost dreamily. stan stops in his tracks, heart stopping and mouth going dry but still grinning as he hears his name yelled by a voice in the background of your line and you hiss back a muffled, "shut up!"

his face is red as he mutters, "yeah, yeah. love you too, y/n/n. i'll see you soon."

your voice echoes in his head as he stares at the tiles of his shower the entire time he's showering. did i mention i love you? as the ice cold water cascades over his sore muscles, relaxing him and breathing energy back into his tired body, he can't get you out of his head. 

your voice, your hair, the way you have so much confidence on the field and yet are the sweetest and funniest person he's every met. as his mind wanders, he thanks god that his shower is freezing and he groans, trying to stop imagining his best friend while he's in the shower.

did i mention i love you?

he steps out soon after that, feeling like a bit of a creep. as he ruffles his towel-dry hair, he hears his front door open. opening the door to the bathroom, he's suddenly facing you, clad in your dirty uniform, your visor still on your head and a tired but happy smile on your face. "where's donny and andrea?" you ask and stan shrugs, chuckling a bit at your dumb nickname for his father, "think they had some meeting and went out after." he's not really focused though, because he's aware that he is standing with only a red towel hanging low on his hips as you stand in front of him, your cheeks red and eyes wide, bouncing around him and avoiding eye contact, flustered as you clear your throat.

did i mention i love you?

he grabs his dirty uniform to sweep into the laundry and gets you a fresh towel, gathering clothes for you to change into before residing to his own bedroom. the shower turns on right as he pulls on his shirt and flops back onto his mattress.

he can't get you off his mind, which isn't necessarily a new development, but ever since the heat wave, his mind has been stuck in a loop that's never ending. y/n, baseball, y/n, baseball, y/n, y/n, y/n....

did i mention i love you?

it's hot in his room and he stares at the patterns in his ceiling, lifting a brow as the spots morph in and out of shapes and suddenly it's back to you, your angelic face in his vision and he almost groans. he loves you way too much, he thinks. 

he knows every single feature about you; enough so that your face, beautiful and clear as always, appears in his vision and he's fucked because he knows he’s still be able to remember where every feature, mark or blemish on your face is, even when you're not with him.

even though he knows that your relationship is just platonic, he still finds himself imagining his lips exploring the expanse of your neck and he yearns to touch every part of you, to be touched by you. he can't get you out of his mind.

the shower shuts off so he sits up and rubs his eyes - the danger and power the you have over him almost makes him laugh, especially because if you knew half the things he thought about you, you'd probably kill him.

he's smiling dumbly, thinking about the time you and bill got caught sneaking onto the derry golf course and made richie and stan pick you two up, right as you pad into his room.

"i look like a dumbass, stan!" you groan, lifting your arms as you spin a bit, and he almost dies. he has to shake his head to avoid you seeing his blush because you're standing in front of him, wearing his baseball team practice shirt that has his last name on it and his gym shorts, cinched at the waist to keep them on you and neither things fit you very well but he thinks he's going to lose it because his heart feels so warm. 

your hair is wet and making the shirt totally wet where the ends of the strands touch, your skin bright from washing off the eyeblack you'd worn all day. he's so lost in the image of you that you have to repeat yourself.

"stan! stop looking at me, oh my god i want to die." you shove your face into your hands and laugh. he shakes his head rid of his stupor and stands from his bed, laying a hand on your shoulder. "you look incredible right now, y/n. let's go, i'm hungry."

he grabs the hoodie he'd insisted you order for him early last year - with your club team's logo on it and a big, white #2 and your last name on the back. he knows it's too hot to actually wear it, but he's going to take it because you always get cold under his car's a/c.

he's not always the best at approaching you in a way that is comforting, but you beam at him as you follow him out towards his car. you're both walking slowly through the hot nighttime air, half because the air is so thick it feels like you're wading, but half from the exhausting day you'd both had. 

every muscle in stan's body aches as he pulls himself into the driver's seat, making sure everything was straight and in place. he doesn't even blush when he turns the key twice before starting the ignition, knowing that you don't mind and even show affection towards his compulsions after all this time. his heart thumps at the thought.

"where to?" you yawn as you ask and he can feel your eyes on him as he's leaning back, backing his car out of the driveway. he flushes once again under your beautiful gaze.

stan then finds himself in the back of his trunk at the quarry, the windows still up because you insisted it'd be too hot with the door open. he'd listened to you because you're you - but if it had been bill, or eddie, or ben, or mike or bev or especially richie he would have groaned and complained about how bad it was for his battery to keep the a/c running.

but it was you, so he did it with a smile on his face and a thump in his heart. you're sitting with your knees touching, stomachs full of fries, burgers, and vanilla milkshakes.

you're still working on your milkshake, spooning it into your mouth slowly as you tell stan a story about your day. "-and she slid under the tag - no, don't look at me like that, she was under it! - and the fucking ump called her out." you grumble, glaring into your milkshake. stan just grins, taking in your natural hair and how it's framing your face, the way your legs gleam in the moonlight and showcase the random bruises you have from taking pitches to the legs.

he forgets to respond and you look up at him, lifting a brow. "oh, yeah, i got a few bruises." you mutter, examining your leg yourself. you perk up, "look at this one! it's got stitch marks!" you say enthusiastically, pulling your bare thigh up so it's across stan's lap, scooting closer to him. he gulps, the proximity of you to him making it hard to focus as you run your fingers over the skin.

"shit." he mutters, hingers falling to touch the purple skin that was blossoming in a faint circle, red and purple stitch marks from the softball etching their way onto your skin. "that must've stung." he adds, eyes glued to your bare leg. you hum in agreement and suddenly your eyes are meeting his and he can't breathe at all.

you're closer than he'd expected as you straighten up, leg falling flat against his lap as you stare deep into each other's eyes. yours are swimming with wonder as you watch him, and he almost jumps when your hand lands on his shoulder. "what're you thinking? you're in your head a lot tonight, stan." you say gently, with all the care in the world and he doesn't really feel the usual twinge of guilt he feels for being more reserved than usual - instead he just feels like he may explode if he doesn't just tell you.

"y/n." he says it so quietly that all he can hear is the first part of your name. "uh-i... uh, maybe it's the heat wave, but..." he shakes his head, knowing that excuse with not work. you're too smart to believe a fib that simple. he sighs.

"no. no, i just- sometimes all that i think about is you." he says, his hand falling to rub over your bare thigh. he feels your muscles tense under his palm and he searches your eyes, his stomach tying itself into knots of anxiety as he waits patiently.

"what-what do you mean?" you ask softly, eyes flickering between his and he bites his lips, looking out to the quarry quickly before looking at you. he thinks about the days you've spent together with the others down at the water, all the drunken nights where you find your way to the clubhouse you'd all built in middle school.

he thinks about how you always, always make it to his games when you're not also playing; how you always sit at the far top right of the bleachers and scream his name loud enough that he can hear you even when he's way out in center field, how you always wear his away uniform jersey and give it back to him with a hug after the games. he thinks about all the hours the two of you have spent together at derry's batting cages, competitively keeping tallies of how many line drives you can each hit.

"stan?" you ask again softly, biting your lip. "i think about you too." you tell him, and he shakes his head, knowing that you aren't totally understanding him (but that's definitely not your fault).

"i think i love you."

he says it louder than intended, and it slices through the midnight air in a way that makes the world stagnant. he swears, even the frogs stop croaking, the cicadas stop buzzing, the wind stops blowing through the leaves in the forest.

"like... like you love me?" you ask, your leg still across his lap, hand still on his shoulder reassuring him that you at least weren't completely disgusted by his admission.

"like i'm in love with you." he reiterates, looking straight into your apprehensive eyes as he says it. it takes barely a split second before you're smiling at him in a grin that knocks the wind right out of stan's chest again. 

"what made you decide that?" you ask with a huge, breathtakingly sweet smile as your hands slide to hold his neck. he huffs a laugh, unsure still, "dunno. lots of things - everything about you, really." he mumbles, feeling slightly stupid but still incredibly giddy as you lean closer.

"well i'm in love with you, stan." you say, lips ghosting over his. he grins, the feeling of you so close to him making his fingers tingle as one hand stays on your thigh, the other falling to your hip.

he can't speak, so instead he closes the gap. your lips are warm against him - your whole body is - as you come to life, kissing him like you've been doing it your whole life. you whimper lightly and it makes him sigh with pleasure, tilting his head to deepen the kiss, tasting the vanilla of your milkshake on your tongue.

slowly, you slide onto his lap and his hands move up your back, pulling you impossibly closer to him, his tongue swiping against your plush lips. you're straddling him, cupping his jaw with both hands as you accept his tongue, yours caressing his sweetly and he wonders why you haven't been doing this your whole life.

he pushes against you, pulling you closer to him as you pull back for breath. "i've wanted to do that for so long." you mutter lowly as his lips immediately attach to the soft expanse of your skin, his fingers tickling down your bare thighs. he grins as he feels goosebumps form under his palms, biting down and sucking the soft skin on your throat, eliciting a moan from you. 

he pulls back a bit, "me too." he says, lips peppering kisses all the way up to your lips and catching them again, your hand sliding into his har and tugging on the strands.

you slowly grind against him and he groans at the feeling of you around him, the pleasure making his mind fuzzy as all he can think about it you. 

and then he’s dying because you’re trailing a hand down to palm him through his pants and all he can do is groan a bit against your chest and look at you because holy shit.

 you slide off his lap and down on to your knees in the small space between his legs, watching him with those beautiful doe eyes as you slide down his shorts slowly. 

he’s watching, lip caught between his teeth as you pull him free from where he strains against his boxers, licking your lips and pumping his base a few times. he grunts as your hand moves, the feeling making him twitch in pleasure. his cock is dripping precum and you slowly reach your tongue out, swirling around his tip. he lets out a dejected moan and grips your shoulders as you slowly take him into your mouth, wet and warm and perfect.”good girl.” he mutters quietly through his bliss and he notices how you flush under the praise, your tongue flattening as you take him further in. 

 as you bob your head down and try to take as much of him as you can, you look up through your lashes to watch him, the eye contact making his legs weak.

 his lips are parted, watching as you suck him off as his hips twitch, hands playing with your hair through his pleasure. "fuck, y/n..." he moans as you start to bob your head quicker, lifting one of your hands to grab his own. he lets you guide his hand to the back of your head and you gently put pressure on it.

he thinks he might faint as he realizes what you want. slowly, he pushes you further down on his cock and he gasps at the tight feeling of you gagging around him. 

 he groans, “you like that, hm?” quietly as you whimper around his cock, the vibrations nearing him to his high. “holy shit.” he mutters to himself as he moves your head, the lewd noises of his cock in your mouth and his moans filling up the car. 

you take him as far into your mouth as you can and he feels you try to relax as he gently pushes you further down on his cock until he hits the back of your throat. you moan, the vibrations pushing him to the edge as his hips buck up slightly.

you choke and pull off of him, catching your breath as you make eye contact, “being so good for me.” he mutters, his eyes glazed over as he watches you pump him. you smile, cheeks pink from the praise and he almost swoons with how fucking perfect you look. 

he lets out a low moan at your warm mouth taking him in, bobbing up and down. his hands push you down onto him again and he holds you there while he gently thrusts up, your hands on his thighs. he tilts his head back, eyes squeezing shut in pure bliss. 

its only a few seconds and he barely gets out a, "fuck, y/n, i'm gonna-" before he's spilling into your mouth. to his surprise, you moan around him and slowly lick him up and swallow, looking up at him with a tired smile.

“holy shit.” he says yet again, staring at you as you pull his shorts back up and bite your lip. he pulls you into a kiss and he can taste himself on your lips, making his stomach flip. 

"date me." he says quickly as he pulls back, his cheeks flushed from the taste of you on his tongue and the post-orgasmic bliss. you pull back, grinning. "well you don't have to be so polite about it." your voice sounds fucked-out and kind of raw and he’s certainly a dead man. 

he chuckles, rolling his eyes at your sarcastic tone. he loves you so fucking much.  "fine. y/n, please be my girlfriend. i want to be your boyfriend, i want us to date. please, will you go out with me?" his voice is dead-pan, but he's serious about it, and you can tell by his boyish grin.

you laugh, shaking your head. "god, was that so hard?" you ask, your hands rubbing over his chest, where his muscles tense in soreness. he then realizes you're still straddling him and how fucking sore you must be. he pulls you closer.

and then you pull him in for another kiss, both of your teeth clashing slightly from your grins. you didn't even explicitly say yes, stan wants to say, but instead he mutters, "did i mention i love you?"

you smile, cheeks red. “you might have mentioned it.” you say bashfully. he grins, kissing your cheek sweetly, hand running up your thigh slowly. “can i taste you, babylove?” he mumbles against your skin and he feels you shiver as you let out a quiet moan. 

you grin, kissing him on the lips, “why dont we go back to your place...can i stay the night?” you ask, cheeks aflame as you look at him. “i want to take our time.” you add. 

it’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen and he nods, grinning at you. “fuck- yes, yes you can. of course.” he says, smiling at you. you kiss him heatedly, grinning as you pull back and lean over to crawl back to the passenger seat. stan slaps your ass lightly as you do and you squeal, grinning back at him with a lifted brow, “c’mon, uris. you’re scoring tonight.”

he rolls his eyes at your cheesy words and groans a bit, but he can’t ignore the butterflies that thrash in his chest nonetheless. 

you love him.

tag list: @gabiatthedisco @blisshemmings​ @stenbrozier @simplesammyx​ @dickology64​ @clownsloveyou​ @baby-yoda-a​ @moon-shine-baby​ @daughter-of-the-stars11 @lets-vibe-bro​ @trashedfortozier​ @oceandog13​ @finnskindofwoman​  @kait-tozier​ @upamongthestarss​ @fiantomartell @beverlyparkerr @beauregard-s @diorbubs

#stanley uris x reader #losers x reader #requests #i love stanley uris #losers club x reader #richie tozier x reader #richie tozier smut #bill denbrough x reader #eddie kaspbrak x reader #eddie kaspbrak smut #bill denbrough

[inlovewithfictionals]

Be True Pt.2 (Jason Todd x Reader)

A/n: I half-wrote this a month ago, but then I decided to make it Christmas themed. And so here it is, the part two to I Need You Alive. Another thing, I have 0 experience on “meet the parents” thing so this might not be that realistic :’)

Keys: Y/H/T: Your Hometown, Y/M: Your Mum, Y/D: Your Dad

Genre: Fluff, duh.

Warning(s): Jason is most likely a bit OOC (I’m not so sure where to put the Todd into a family meeting, forgive me.), I didn’t proofread this yet so beware the spelling or grammar mistakes.

That being said, I hope you enjoy this!

Word Count: 1903

   Snowy road, a small morning light shines, Christmas songs on the radio, a calm and comfortable silence between Y/N and Jason in the car. At least for Y/N. Jason on the other hand, he’s nervous.

   The two are on the way to Y/N’s parents’ house. They had planned this a few months back, but due to Jason being Red Hood and needing to help the Batfam, they had to hold it back. And finally, here they are. On the way to Y/H/T for Christmas. And Jason as I said earlier is nervous.

   His body is a little tense, hands gripping the steering wheel, traces of worry on his face. It wasn’t until he let out an audible sigh when Y/N notices that her boyfriend is in distress.

   “Jaybird, what’s wrong?” She asked, putting a hand on his shoulder.

   “Huh? Oh nothing.” Jason hesitantly answered.

   Y/N’s brows creased, tilting her head slightly. And then a small smile shows on her face, “Anxious? Nervous again? I thought I already said that my parents likes you?”

   “But I never met them in person. What if the first official impression is bad? They’d change their minds.” He let out another sigh, slowing the car down when he realized that he’s gone a bit too fast on his anxious state.

   After a moment of focusing on the road ahead, he heard Y/N giggles. Jason glanced at her for a while before he turn back to the road. “What? What is it?” He asked.

   “Nothing, it’s just- you’re THE Red Hood, you fight crimes at night like a badass, gone on dangerous missions and such with Batman and the others, and yet here you are afraid of meeting my parents.”

   “I’m not ‘afraid.’ I’m just worried.” He argued.

   Y/N puts her hand that was previously on Jason’s shoulder on her mouth to stop herself from letting out a laugh, which didn’t really work since Jason could still hear her. Nonetheless, he chuckled along with her. “Okay, fine. I’m a little afraid. Just a little.”

   Y/N’s laugh dies down as she shakes her head, “There’s nothing to be afraid of. My parents are chill. Sometimes strict, but they’re nice people. Besides, it’s just for a day. Trust me when I say you’ll be fine, you big dork.” She chuckles, leaning to his side to kiss his cheek and give him a reassuring smile. Jason’s shoulder falls in a relieved manner. He nods slowly, indicating to Y/N that he’s okay now. Well, at least, better than before.

   “Okay. I’m alright. I’m Jason Peter Todd, the second Robin and now Red Hood, and I’m gonna meet your parents and they’re gonna fucking like me!” His voice gets louder and more energetic on each word he says.

   “That’s the fucking spirit, Todd!” Y/N announced.

   Once again, both of them goes on to another laughing session.

   This might not be as bad as I thought, Jason thinks.

. . . .

   They arrived at Y/N’s parents’ house just a few hours later around 11 AM. Given the fact that there was not a lot of traffic jams and the snow is not pouring like that scene from Frozen.

   Jason parked the car and turn down the engines. He takes a deep breath, turning his head to Y/N, who’s taking off her seatbelt and wrapping her neck and half of her face with a scarf.

   “Are you ready?” She asked.

   “Yeah. Yeah, I’m ready.”

   With that, they stepped out of the car and walks to the front door. Y/N knocked the door a few times, “Mum, Dad! I’m- we’re home!”

   There are rushing-footsteps sounds coming from inside of the house, followed by a small and cheerful, “It’s them! Coming!”

   The door opens to reveal a friendly looking woman wearing a cream coloured sweater and some comfortable black pants. Her face lights up even brighter when she looked at Y/N and Jason. The woman then rushed to hug Y/N with an enthusiastic laugh.

   “Y/N! You’re here! Oh and merry Christmas, sweetheart!”

   “Merry Christmas to you too, mum. Missed you. Sorry we took so long to visit.” Y/N said hugging her back.

   “Oh it’s fine. I know how busy you are.” Her mum smiled at her. She takes a look at Jason for a second, before she went up to him and hugging him as well. “You must be the guy Y/N is whipped for. She talks a lot about you. That explains why I was eager for you to visit. Also, merry Christmas, Jason!”

   A subtle blush shows on Jason’s face. Maybe it’s the cold, maybe it’s the fact that Y/N’s mum said that her daughter talks about him to her parents. His tense body slowly ease into her embrace, a smile shows up on his face. “Merry Christmas, Mrs. Y/L/N. Sorry for making you wait.”

   “Again, its fine, Jason. All is well here, no worries! And please, call me Y/M. Don’t be so formal.” She smiles at Jason. Even on this cold day, like Y/N’s, Y/M’s smile is capable of warming him. Ah, so that’s where she inherited the personality from.

   “Now come on, brunch is ready!”

   Y/M opens the door wider and made a motion with her hands for Y/N and Jason to come in. They took off their beanies, scarfs, outer jackets, and puts them on the hanger inside, beside the door.

   “Y/D? They’re here!” Y/M announced as she walks to the kitchen with Jason and Y/N trailing behind.

   “Wait! I haven’t put on my sweater!” A male voice replied from the living room.

    Y/N stops her track and peep her head into the living room to see her dad standing up from the couch just after he puts the sweater on. He was wearing a classic green-red-white Christmas themed sweater with little snowmen on it and a pair of dark grey pants.

   “Dad! Merry Christmas!” She made her way to her father’s embrace.

   “Merry Christmas, little one.” Much like her mum, he has a friendly face decorated with a grin. “Is he here?”

   The girl nodded and turns her head towards Jason who was waiting by the entrance. He realized that they were waiting for him, so he took soft but quick steps to them. Y/N grabs his arm and pull it close. Sort of like she’s hugging Jason’s arm.

   “Dad, this is Jason. The one you ‘want to intimidate.’”

   “Nice to meet you, Mr. Y/L/N.” Jason says, putting his right arm for Y/D to shake.

   Y/D completely ignores the hand and sling his arm on Jason’s shoulder as Y/N lets him go. His eyebrows scrunched, looking at Jason like he’s inspecting him to see if he’s a good news or bad news. Once again, Jason feels afraid under his stare. But that feeling was quickly wiped away when Y/D smiles at him and shaking his hand.

   “Just Y/D is okay. Nice to meet you, Jason! Are you treating her right?” He asked, patting him and nods his head to Y/N.

   “I sure hope I am. Y/N, what do you think?”

   “Eh, you’re okay.” She teased.

   Jason fake gasped while Y/D snickered. “How could you say that? After everything we’ve been through!”

   “I’m joking! He’s amazing, dad.” She laughed.

   “Good, as expected then. Now come eat your foods! It’s not staying warm forever you know?” Y/M’s voice called from the living room entrance where Jason was standing before. She was leaning on the frame, with her hands crossed like a mother who’s playfully scolding her 5 year old. Or- olds.

   All of them then went to the kitchen and sit in the dining area. They shared random lighthearted conversations. At times, Y/N’s parents asked Jason about himself which Jason had to answer without telling them about his nighttime persona. In the middle of the whole funny, embarrassing, or adventurous stories they share, Y/N puts her hand on Jason’s thigh and squeeze it lightly to get his attention.

   “See? They like you.” She whispered to him. Jason just gave her a cocky smile, “of course they do.”

   “Bold thing to say for someone who’s afraid to go here a few hours ago.”

   “That was natural reaction, Y/L/N.” He whispered back,

   “Sure. Whatever you say, Red Hood.” She leans closer to his ear and whispered more quietly on the last part so that her parents won’t hear.

   “I swear, if you’re gonna compare the Red Hood me and THIS me again…” Y/N just giggled at him making her parents look at them with fond smiles.

. . . .

   What was supposed to be an hour brunch turned into 3 hours. They got caught into the conversations. Plus, Y/M feels the need to show Jason Y/N’s old pictures to which Jason took pics of and he definitely sends it to Grayson.

   Now Jason and Y/D are sharing hot chocolate in the living room while the girls are in the kitchen tidying things up while chit-chatting happily. Girl things probably…

   Jason stares at Y/N from his seat. As cliché as it sounds, the light coming from the window made her look pretty almost like a scene from a movie. Not that she’s not pretty before, but right now she’s exceptionally pretty. She’s not perfect, physically nor mentally. He knows that. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.  As he smiled at her, she smiled back before continuing her talk with her mum.

   “You really love her, don’t you?” Y/D suddenly asked.

   “I do. I do, sir.” He softly answered making Y/D hum in an accepting manner.

   He hesitated, but Jason Wonder Woman-ed up and leans closer to Y/D just in case the girls could hear him. They might not be able to considering the flow of their girl-talk, but he’s being careful. “Sir, I know this is too soon but I was wondering… Do I have your blessing to take her hand? I’m not going to do it yet in a short time and I know we’re still early in the relationship, but am I good enough for her to you?”

   Y/D’s lips thinned. Right now, he looked seriously intimidating to Jason. He takes a deep breath before looking at the robin again. “To be honest, I don’t think anyone is good enough for Y/N. Not in my eyes at least. She’s precious, gentle, and yet- she’s brave and strong. Complete with flaws but that doesn’t make her any less of a woman. My little princess. The last thing I want is for someone to break her in any way.”

   Jason looked down to his mug, tracing the rim of the mug. His heart fell little by little when he heard those words. Y/D sipped his hot chocolate, looking at the almost empty mug.

   “That being said, be true with her, Jason.”

   Jason’s eyes shot up from the mug up to look at him. “Sir?”

   “You’re enough for her. Hurt her and I’ll hunt you down.” Despite the threat, he still give Jason a fatherly pat on the back and his smile is back. Jason chuckled shakily, nodding his head. “Thank you and don’t worry,” he glances back at Y/N, “I don’t plan on hurting her.”

. . . .

   “You really are her father, aren’t you?” Jason questioned.

   “I am. What’s with the sudden question?” Y/D asked back with a confused smile and one eyebrow raised.

   “It’s just that you can threat someone with a very innocent face. Y/N does that a lot.”

A/n: Have a happy Christmas, everyone! I hope you got what you wanted for Christmas this year.

Masterlist

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd imagine #jason todd fluff #Jason Todd #merry chrysler #red hood imagine

[thesassenachswiftie]

Lover - Chapter 10:”Cornelia Street”

Read on AO3

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

Summary: Claire and Jamie spend a night in the city. The next day, Jamie has a rude awakening and eventually our lovers head to Broadway to see Wicked.

Notes:  As always, thank you for reading and leaving notes. Every time I get a notification is a small thrill and I really appreciate it. We have officially passed the half way point of this fic experiment! If you didn't figure it out from the way the last chapter ended, this one is more than a bit smutty. Smut is at the beginning and end if that's something you try to avoid. Enjoy!

Chapter 10: Cornelia Street

           “I rented a place on Cornelia Street,” Jamie said casually in the car. “I was originally thinking since it’s early yet we could head to a bar down the street for a dram, but if you want to turn in for the night, I understand.” His blue eyes were twinkling with innuendo under the glow of passing streetlights.

           “Hmm… I don’t think we need the assistance of alcohol tonight,” Claire raised her brow, catching his eye. “Unless you’re really set on it?”

           “Nae, Sassenach, you’re more than enough for me.” he replied, stroking her thigh in the backseat. It was true, they were drunk on something stronger than the drinks in the bar. Now that the full force and truth of their love was unleashed, they were both in a state of anticipatory ecstasy. They couldn’t keep their hands off each other during the 15 minute Uber ride back to the subway station to pick up their bags and head to Manhattan. Neither of them could wait to get the other alone, enveloped in the privacy of the AirBnb. It was as if the streetlights pointed in an arrowhead leading them home.

           They stepped out onto the sidewalk, Claire leading, eager to get to their destination. She turned around before she hit the subway tunnel, grabbing Jamie and wrapping her arms around his neck. They kissed passionately on the sidewalk, bodies pressed close, the promise of more a mere subway ride away.

           Jamie and Claire emerged from underground just three blocks away from their destination. The nighttime autumn air was bringing a chill and a smattering of raindrops was starting to fall from the sky. Jamie draped his jacket around Claire’s shoulders, noticing that she was wrapping her arms close to her chest. Her smile lit up at the gesture. Although the warmth of their love should have, in theory, been strong enough to keep them warm, it was undeniable that the seasons were changing and winter was headed to New York.

           By the time they arrived on Cornelia street, the rain had turned to a downpour and they found themselves running down the street, hand in hand to get to the warmth and privacy of their weekend abode. They dashed down the street until they stood before a building that appeared to be an old fashioned carriage house. Jamie punched some numbers into a keypad beside a side door and they heard a click as it unlocked. They scrambled through the open door and climbed up two flights of stairs where they were met with another door. Another code was entered and the door opened to reveal a spacious and airy apartment, well-appointed with cozy antique furniture and rugs, ornate light fixtures, modern artwork, and plenty of houseplants thriving among large, floor-to-ceiling windows. They were soaked through, their clothes clinging to their bodies. They dropped their bags on the floor as they entered.

           “I’m freezing!” Claire squealed, reluctantly slipping Jamie’s jacket off her shoulders and slipping it on a hook by the door. She kicked off her shoes and scurried through the apartment towards what she hoped was a bedroom. Jamie found the thermostat on the wall near the dining area and turned it up higher than he normally would--but his Sassenach was cold and he wasn’t paying the bill. The heat kicked on quickly and the apartment began to fill with warm air. Jamie followed Claire into the bedroom and found it empty. He did however, notice a large armoire with a hidden gas fireplace (luckily he had read about this on the AirBNB website before booking), and took a moment to open it and turn the fireplace on. He then slipped around the corner towards the adjacent bathroom and stopped short at the sight before him. Claire had stripped off her wet clothing and was draping it over the shower rod in the bathroom to dry. Jamie caught a generous view of her backside glimpsing her through the bathroom doorway where he stood, taking in her beauty.

           “I bless the rains on Cornelia Street” he lauded reverently, peeling off his own soaked shirt and guiding himself behind her, reaching over her head to drape his shirt next to hers, he moved his hands down her body slowly, settling them on her hips and pulling her close to him.

           “Do you need help with those wet pants?” she hummed, turning her head towards him with a mischievous grin.

           “Aye, that’d be bonny” Jamie replied. Claire turned around and put her hands on his chest, running them down to the waistband of his jeans. She unlatched his belt and slid it through the belt loops, tossing it aside where it landed with a thud on the bathroom floor. She crouched down to unbutton and unzip his fly, keeping her eyes locked on his face the entire time. She felt his hardness beneath her hands as she carried out her task. She slowly wriggled his jeans down to the floor and he stepped out of them. She picked them up off the floor, exaggerating her movements to give Jamie a full view of her arse, playfully leading him on a path there would be no going back from as she lifted them to the curtain rod, pressing her posterior against the rapidly growing bulge in his boxer briefs. “Why Mr. Fraser, I do believe despite the chill you are quite excited.”

“As if the sight of your arse in those jeans all day wasn’t enough to give a man a cock stand, to see it in its full glory… Christ Sassenach.” He’d had enough of her playing games, and spun her around to face him again, kissing her passionately as he scooped up handfuls of her arse, pulling her even closer to him. She slipped her fingers into the waistband of his underwear, edging them down gently with no small effort as they were wet from the rain. Once, they were also discarded on the floor, Jamie scooped her up effortlessly, hoisting her onto his hips as she wrapped her legs around his torso. They continued kissing, tongues dancing to steps only they knew, as he carried her into the bedroom and laid her down sideways on the end of the bed atop a soft, plush blanket, directly across from the fireplace. “Whatd’ya say I warm ya up Sassenach?” he growled as they came up for air.

           “Mmmmhmm” was all she could muster out in response. The heat from the fireplace was already doing a good job of warming her, but she had a feeling it had more to do with being cradled in her Scots arms. He tented himself over her, rubbing his length over her folds, caressing her arms until gooseflesh arose. Planting hungry kisses on her neck and down her clavicle to her breast. He suckled ravenously, taking her soft pillow to his mouth, squeezing it reverently to his cheek before moving to the other breast as she bit her lip, taking in the sensation. When her wee noises indicated she couldn’t take his teasing anymore, he guided himself into her.

They gave themselves to each other fully, heart, body, mind and soul. It was a sacred new beginning for them after all they had said to each other just a few hours before. Jamie suddenly understood all that the church had taught him about marriage and sexuality. Although he and Claire were not yet wed, he realized the sacrament of marriage was not in the ceremony, but in the joining he and Claire were experiencing in this holy space. This was becoming their religion, he was worshipping the God who created this woman just for him and brought her to him safely. He also knew in this moment he could never again be parted from her. Each thrust was a commitment, to keep her safe, to love her, to see to her needs, to take care of her, to protect her from harm. He made these promises to her and himself silently, affirming each with a grunt to match her moans. He would make these commitments publically in a church someday, before God and loved ones, but for now they would stay in his head in the quiet of the room filling with nothing but the sounds of their heavy breaths and cries of pleasure. As he led them home with a final few thrusts, he cried out, “I love you, Claire. God, I love you.”

Jamie kissed Claire’s nose sweetly as they lay, wrapped in each other's arms, panting in post-coital bliss. “Now, I’m warm!” Claire exclaimed. She was flushed red, not only from what had just happened.

“Aye, so am I” Jamie agreed. The combination of forced air heat blasting from a nearby vent and the fireplace had made the room feel sultry and warm while Claire and Jamie were otherwise occupied. He was glistening with sweat, still above her, he rolled over and off the bed, and swung the window wide open, allowing the crisp autumn air to cool their skin. Claire rose to join him near the window, which looked out on an alleyway towards a brick wall. She wrapped her arms around him, bending her curls into the crook of his neck where she fit just right.

“I love you too, Jamie Fraser.” She said in a low voice as she kissed his shoulder. “Come back to bed.” She stepped away towards the bed, tugging at his hand. He cocked one eyebrow, staring intently at her.

“To bed, or to sleep?” he questioned. Claire simply eyed him with a mischievous grin and continued to lead him to the bed.

----------

           Jamie, as he did the last time Claire told him she loved him, stayed awake with excitement into the wee hours of the night, softly stroking Claire’s curls and imagining their future together. Their future was a fresh page on the desk, and they’d fill in the blanks as they went, but he was certain that this was the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. Sleep took Claire much more quickly, worn out from a day of carousing around the city and a night of passionate lovemaking. Due to her restful sleep, Claire woke when sunlight started creeping into the room. She slipped out of bed as quietly as possible, tiptoeing through the room so as not to disturb Jamie. Much to her dismay, she stepped on a creaky floorboard, wishing she had memorized its location the night before. She paused, taking in the sight of Jamie's limp form on the bed. He was still fast asleep, smiling slightly and Claire paused a bit longer than she intended to, taking in the sight of him, so peaceful and serene, and all hers.

           Claire continued into the kitchen, barefoot and started searching the cupboards to see if there was anything edible. She might have suggested they stop for groceries the night before, but her appetite was focused solely on a different set of urges at the time.  She opened the fridge, but all that was inside was a Brita pitcher of water and a bottle of champagne--a rather expensive one--already opened, with a note on it that read: the last guests left this the other night, it’d be a shame to throw it out, so feel free to help yourself! That would be a welcome treat this evening, or maybe even for mimosas this morning, but she needed sustenance and she had no doubt that Jamie had also worked up an appetite last night in his exertions. Her still-packed bag was on the floor in the hall where she left it last night, she grabbed it and snuck into the guest bathroom to don leggings and a sweatshirt, brush the morning breath from her teeth and wrangle her curls into a ponytail. She grabbed her purse and left Cornelia Street to grab supplies to make breakfast. She hoped to surprise Jamie and be back before he even knew she was gone.

----------

           Jamie awoke, reaching to pull Claire close to him, blindly feeling the empty sheets and pillow beside him. “Sassenach?” he called out into the empty room. There was no response. He reluctantly arose from the bed and walked towards the master bathroom, to see if she was there, but the door was open and Claire was not in there. He headed out into the living room--still no Claire--not in the kitchen or dining room either. He peeked out the window onto the small patio behind the apartment, which was also empty. Where could she be? He went to the hallway to retrieve his phone from his bag, where he had left it last night and his heart sank low as he realized his was the only one in the hallway. His face felt hot and he felt something deep within him shatter. Not again. Please don’t leave me. I don’t wanna lose you. He unlocked his phone, hoping for a message from her, some sort of explanation, a family emergency even, anything that would explain why she had left him the morning after saying “I love you” yet again. She seemed so genuine, so sure since their reunion. He felt so certain of her love this time around--last night he could have sworn their souls were aligned. He dialed her number, maybe she didn’t have time to send him a message. It rang and rang before her voicemail message responded Hey it’s Claire, leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Was this the last he would hear of her voice? He hung up, unable to leave a message, his throat was caught holding back tears, they were welling behind his eyes as his mind tried to work through any possible explanation where Claire still loved him. He ran a hand through his curls, pacing the floor as he thought about what his next move should be. He walked around the apartment again, looking for a sign, a note, glancing out every window, peering out to the street below, searching for her, but she was long gone.

He stooped in the hallway to his bag and grabbed a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt and put them on, slipping out of the apartment and ascending the stairs to the rooftop patio. He hadn’t told Claire about it, and it was far too rainy last night to show her, but maybe she went exploring and discovered it on her own. With her bag, ya dafty? Face it, she’s gone, she played you like a card shark again, you eejit. When he found the rooftop empty as well he couldn’t hold back the tears anymore.

He rushed back to the apartment, where he could sob freely away from anyone who might see. In his personal opinion, there was nothing unmanly about letting your feelings out with a good cry, but it was still embarrassing to be seen in such a state, regardless of gender. He collapsed on the couch and pulled his phone out to try and text Claire. The last text she’d sent him, a small pink heart emoji just a day ago, appeared on his screen and his throat caught again. Oh Claire, what did I do? He tried to compose a text: Claire, I’m sorry, please come back to me. No, too desperate, he hit the back arrow and watched the message disappear. Claire, I noticed you’re gone, I’m sure you didn’t mean anything by it. Call me. No, that wasn’t right either. Hey. No, if something was wrong that was too unfeeling. Maybe this would be easier if his mind wasn’t spiraling so much.

He wondered what time the bar down the street opened, he could use a dram or two to take the edge off. It was only just after 9:00, surely they wouldn’t be open for several hours, especially on a Sunday morning. He began pacing the apartment again, unable to keep still. The last time this had happened, he found refuge in a church, but the thought of crying out to God (and likely physically crying) amongst the Sunday Mass crowd in an unfamiliar church told him that wasn’t a good idea just now. Besides, he was angry with God. How could ya? How could ya take her away from me again? After I told ya I was committed to her, after I promised I’d cherish and keep her. How could you let her back into my life just so I could see her go again? It’s not right, it’s not fair, there’s only so much a man can take!

He went to the kitchen to get some water, and when he opened the fridge, he noticed a bottle of champagne with a note encouraging him to help himself. Don’t mind if I do. He desired something stronger, but it would have to do. He uncorked the bottle and took a large swig. If he cared for more than the emotion numbing power of alcohol right now, he would have noticed it was the best champagne he’d ever tasted, but all he could think about was how the entire bottle could possibly be enough to shut down his thoughts. As he took his second swig, he felt his phone buzzing in his pocket. He pulled it out and felt a rush of emotion as a picture of Claire lit up the screen.

           “Claire!” he shouted into the phone in a desperate voice.

           “Jamie, I’m sorry I just saw you called, I guess I didn’t feel my phone in my purse.”

           “Where are you? Is everything alright?” he was trying to hide the panic in his voice.

           “I’m outside, I don’t know the code to get in”

           A wave of relief washed over Jamie and he let out a breath he’d been holding. “Oh, it’s 79438.”

           “Seven... nine… four… three... eight…” she repeated, Jamie could hear each number beep through the phone as she punched them into the keypad. “Be right up, see you in a minute!”

           His heart was pounding with joy and relief. He left the champagne bottle on the counter and ran to the bathroom to splash water on his face, hoping to hide evidence of his tears. He would feel silly if Claire were to know how he reacted. He rushed back to the door of the apartment, opening it to greet her as she came up the last few steps, a reusable bag branded with the name of a nearby market in her hand. He pulled her to him as soon as they were back in the apartment and kissed her passionately.

           “What was that for?” she inquired breathlessly when they pulled away.

           “I just missed ya is all.” he replied sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand.

           “Remind me to leave more often” she giggled. She noticed the look on his face when she said that, he didn’t look amused by her joke at all. “Are you alright?” she asked. She also noticed that the skin around his eyes looked puffy and swollen.

           “I’m fine, Sassenach.”

           She took in his appearance, not quite believing him, something was off about his demeanor. “Are you sure?”

           “Yeah,” he replied bashfully, running his fingers through his hair with one hand and nervously tapping his leg with the other. Claire raised an eyebrow, silently imploring him to continue. “It’s just that… weill, I noticed your bag was gone… and so I thought mebbe ye’d left me again.” he chuckled nervously, “It’s silly I know.”

           “Oh, Jamie, no!” It was her turn to throw her arms around him. “I’m so sorry! I changed in the spare bathroom and left my bag there. I didn’t want to wake you; I was trying to surprise you with breakfast but there was no food here! Just champagne.” She held up the bag in her hand to show him.

           “Aye, I noticed that myself.” he said, following her into the kitchen.

           “Oh, I see you’ve started without me” noting the open bottle on the counter, she pulled a jug of orange juice out of the shopping bag “you know mixing this with orange juice makes day drinking more socially acceptable.” she chuckled, trying to clear the air with humor.

           “It wasna really doing the trick anyway, mimosas sound great. Sassenach.” he drew her close again and planted a kiss on her forehead.

----------

           After a leisurely breakfast they dressed for the show. Even Though it was a matinee, it was still an excuse to dress up and Claire had purchased a new dress for the occasion--a flowy low cut wrap dress in a perfectly ‘wicked’ shade of green. She decided to get ready in the guest bathroom, wanting Jamie to take in the full picture once she was all ready. Jamie got ready in the en suite, slicking his hair back and donning a black suit with black shirt. After taming her curls into what she hoped were sexy waves, and applying a smoky eye, she was ready. She stepped into the living room, where Jamie was already waiting, he rose from the couch upon her entrance and was looking better than she thought possible in his suit. They had similar reactions to each other--breaths caught, eyes stared, taking one another in, lingering long enough to be uncomfortable if it were anyone else. Jamie spoke first, crossing the room as if drawn to her by a magnet, “Are ya mad, woman? I can see every inch of you, right down to your third rib!” He scolded playfully, making it known exactly how wild the sight before him was driving him.

           Claire hummed a laugh in response, “you cannot!” she replied flirtatiously. “Do you like it?” she exaggerated the sway of her hips as she approached him, causing the dress to float through the room dramatically.

           “Like it? I reckon ya could wear a plastic bag around ya and I’d like it, but this…” he took both of her hands and took a step back, taking her in again. “You look phenomenal, Sassenach. I’m not sure I can control myself around you all day.”

           She gave him a wicked smile, pulled him close and whispered a sultry bargain in his ear “If you’re on your best behavior today, I’ll let you see what I have on underneath.” she turned around coyly and headed towards the door to get her purse and jacket.

           Christ, this woman will be the death of me. Jamie thought, as he tried to think of something, anything else that would help to stop the blood from rushing to his nether region. He stepped into the bathroom to splash water on his face for the second time that day, careful not to mess up his coiffed hair and met Claire at the door. Now that she had her coat on, it was easier to control his impulses, but God, he wanted her.

----------

           Claire was enraptured by Wicked. Even Jamie’s hand frequently caressing her thigh wasn’t enough to distract her from the sights before them. The tickets Jamie had won were center orchestra seats and it was delightful to see the sparkling costumes and set pieces so close. If Claire was lucky enough to attend a Broadway musical she was usually up in a top corner balcony seat, which did have the benefit of taking in the whole stage at once, but it paled in comparison to this.

           She couldn’t help but cry during the song “I’m Not That Girl”--the actress did an incredible job of conveying emotion and Claire recalled how she felt just a month prior. Don’t dream too far, don’t lose sight of who you are, don’t remember that rush of joy. She had convinced herself that since Jamie wasn’t a part of the plan, he didn’t belong with her, but she couldn’t have been more wrong. With every dream and memory of him during their separation, she filled with more and more regret. Jamie noticed her sniffles and gently stroked her hand, bringing it to lips briefly to kiss her knuckles. She felt his unspoken promise, you are that girl.

Her musings continued when the opening lines of “As Long as You're Mine” started: kiss me too fiercely, hold me too tight, I need help believing you’re with me tonight. Her heart broke as she thought about the sight of Jamie’s puffy eyes in the AirBNB that morning. Knowing her responsibility for the doubt that she had planted in his heart, that their time apart was her fault. She knew now that they were solid--but could he? Could he ever fully trust her again? She firmly vowed to make it up to him in whatever way she could. The crescendo of the song built up, increasing in passion and intensity as the actors pressed their fully clothed bodies against each other, staring into each other’s eyes. How, painted green and in a long sleeve full length dress, Elphaba could convey such clear implications of sex, she did not know. Claire was more keenly aware of Jamie’s hand stroking her thigh, making its way painfully close to where she truly wanted to be stroked. When the music faded, Elphaba confessed to feeling wicked and kissed her lover passionately, the final payoff to the slow burn of the song. Claire made eye contact with Jamie, and she knew they both had little else on their mind than each other. Thank God they were half way through the second act, it would be hard to hold back much longer, and she didn’t want to be that couple caught with hands down each other’s pants in a sold out Broadway theater. For now, they would have to content themselves with stroking each other’s thighs.

The conclusion of the play was an emotional roller coaster. Claire couldn’t help but notice the parallel in her own life to the story of Elphaba--being cast out by the society she found herself in, ostracized and called names that stung even though there was some truth to them. Claire, like Elphaba, didn’t make the best choices in how she had behaved the previous spring, and had so suffered more consequences than she may have otherwise. Jamie was attuned to Claire’s feelings throughout, knowing when he needed to grip her hand tightly, or gently stroke her thumb, when to wipe a tear from her cheek, or kiss her knuckles softly. During curtain call Claire stood, enraptured, beaming and clapping furiously as each set of actors took a bow, wondering if they could see from the stage how much she enjoyed it.

Jamie too applauded enthusiastically, he thoroughly enjoyed the show finding it to be an emotionally poignant production and entertaining spectacle all at once. Most of all, he enjoyed seeing Claire’s enjoyment. She seemed so happy, so unrestrained, and he was partially responsible for it. Feelings of admiration and pride swirled around his wame, but mostly of love and gratitude. He was so grateful that Claire was the woman by his side. He didn’t know how he could live without her. The scare he had that morning made him more keenly aware of it. He was terrified of her walking away again. He was so glad she had called and showed her true hand that morning. As he stroked her leg in a dark theater all he could think was I hope I never lose you, hope it never ends. That’s the kind of heartbreak time could never mend.

They followed the crowd out of the theater and onto the streets of New York. Jamie was mystified by how the city seemed to scream Claire’s name, everything he saw made him think of her. He wanted to bring her everywhere--to the tops of all the tall buildings, the nicest restaurants, walks in the park, curbside hot dog stands, corner diners--everywhere big and small. Simultaneously, he wanted nothing more than to walk her back to that apartment and ravish her until she cried out his name.  He did have dinner reservations at a nearby restaurant, but the thought of staring across a table at her cleavage in that dress, unable to do anything about it was not nearly as appealing as the thought of peeling it off her. The way she kept touching him, he had a feeling she had something similar in mind.

“So.” he stated matter-of-factly. “The plan is to get dinner at a spot around the corner.” He studied her reaction to his words and thank Christ for her glass face, he saw a twinge of disappointment that emboldened him to continue. “However, plans can be amended and if ya think you’d rather get back to Cornelia Street sooner…” The glass face perked up. “We could order takeaway and pick it up on the way back.”

“Takeaway sounds divine, what are you in the mood for?” he was keenly aware of the double meaning of her words--she was using that low, sultry voice that drove him wild.

He pulled her close, growling in her ear “you know exactly what I’m in the mood for, Ms. Beauchamp.” he sucked her earlobe, and trailed a line of wet, passionate kisses down her neck.

“So, Thai food then?” she eyed him coyly.

“Aye, that sounds bonny” Jamie pulled out his phone, first calling to cancel their reservation, then looking to Google with Claire to find a Thai place in the village with good reviews they could pick food up at. Once their food was ordered, he held her hand on the street and led her back to Cornelia Street.

----------

           Once they were just inside the apartment, Jamie set the takeout on the floor and immediately pressed Claire against the closed door and took her fiercely to his mouth, pawing at the buttons on her coat, trying miserably to get it off her. Claire pressed her palm against his chest, gasping for air she pushed him back to arm’s length. He blinked, bewildered. She made eye contact with him as she tugged at the knot in the waistband of her coat, untying it. She then unbuttoned each button, painfully slow, taking her time with each one well he gazed intensely, breath heavy. Once she finished her task she slipped the coat off her shoulders allowing it to fall to the floor behind her. Jamie was back on her in an instant, planting kisses on her neck and down, down, down. He nuzzled himself between her breasts, kissing, sucking and playfully biting the soft flesh. His hands ran through her hair at first, then up and down her body settling on her arse which he kneaded and squeezed hungrily. Claire was already moaning and they were still fully clothed. She slipped his jacket from his shoulders, and he flung it behind him as quickly as possible in order to return his hands to her hind quarters. She began to make dexterous work of his shirt buttons as he lifted her thigh to his hip.

           “Take me to bed” she breathlessly begged in his ear.

           “Aye.” he lifted her other leg and walked backward into the apartment. Instead of heading to the bedroom, he took her to the living room, sitting on an oversized chaise lounge near the fireplace with Claire still on his lap, his face still buried in her fleshy pillows. She began to grind against him as he stroked her thighs, pushing the dress up to stroke the flesh underneath. He snaked his arm up her back, holding her firmly and turned her so she was lying on her back. “I’ve been wanting to take ya, right here, since I saw you walk inta the room this morning in that dress.”

           “Hmm… is that so?” she hummed. “I believe I said I’d show you what’s underneath if you were behaved.”

           “Aye, ya did. Was I a good boy then?”

           “You” she confirmed, “were a very good boy.” she tugged at the tie of the dress and allowed the fabric to fall off her body, spilling around her in a pool of green as she lay on the chaise. She thought Jamie’s eyes would pop out of their head the way he looked at her so intensely. She was wearing black lacy bodysuit with a neckline that plunged all the way to the waistband of the bottom part of it. “Now, you can see--what was it? My third rib?” she smirked.

           “Aye. I see it, right about… here.” He planted a kiss under her breast.  “ I wonder what else I can see” he tugged at the fabric, pleased to find it was stretchy and revealed her right breast. “Mmm… now that is a sight to behold. He wrapped his tongue around her nipple.

           “I showed you, now what do you have to show me?” she bit her lower lip and eyed him coyly.

           “Fair’s fair I suppose.” He slipped his shirt off easily, as Claire had already unbuttoned it for him and let it drop to the floor. Standing, he slowly unbuckled his belt and slipped it through each individual belt loop. He wanted her, but he also wanted payback for the show she made of her buttons in the entryway. He made similar work of the button on his fly, and then inched the zipper down, painfully slow. He slid his thumbs into his waistband and nudged his pants down, swaying his hips in an exaggerated motion as he peeled them down slowly.

           Claire was eyeing him with a desperate hunger and a naughty glint in her eye, biting her lower lip with anticipation. She decided to join him in the tease, sitting up and slipping her body suit off one shoulder slowly. She then made a show of the other side, peeling it off carefully so as not to expose her breast until the last possible second. They were playing a dangerous game, eyeing each other hungrily as they fought their own desires in order to tease each other. Claire stood before Jamie, the lower part of her bodysuit still covering the place where she was rapidly growing aroused. His arousal was still covered as well, although it was apparent through the fabric. They slipped their thumbs into each other’s waistbands, ridding themselves of the last stitches of clothing between them.

           “I think you said something about taking me right here?” she inquired demurely.

“Aye.” he growled, and he did just that.

End Note:  Poor Jamie! That we bit of angst he went through broke my heart to write. He loves her so much. Hopefully all the smut made up fo it. More smut next week as it seems these two can't keep their hands off each other!

#lover #outlander #outlander fanfic #outlander fic #outlander fanfiction #smut #a little angst #a little fluff #a lot of pining #jamie x claire #jamie fraser #claire beauchamp #inspired by taylor swift #cornelia street #new york city #greenwich village #broadway #wicked

[blushnote]

can i request vampire daddy!vernon coming home to find you touching yourself (a big no no when vernon isn't home) so he's 100% ready to pop out his fangs and take you over his knee, leading to the kinkiest sex you've ever had with him

↳ requested | 3.7k

↳ vampire!hansol smut

a/n: you have no idea how much i enjoyed writing this!! i am a HUGE FUCKING FAN of vampire!au’s lol. warnings for this fic include use of handcuffs, mouth gag, unprotected sex, and of course, mentions of blood. there’s also an instance of spitting sjsjsj sorry i had to! 

maybe you’ll regret this decision, but in the meantime, the need to touch yourself outweighs the possibility of consequence. hansol isn’t home. in fact, you have not a single clue as to where he could be. it’s very typical of him to disappear at random, for long durations that you suspect you want no part of. he’s a vampire, and vampires associate with awfully gruesome things.

it’s nighttime beyond the stillness of the house, and you lie sprawled out across the bed, staring vacantly upon the ceiling while a warm, pulsing ache flutters between your thighs. you’re hardly dressed, wearing only a small pair of baby pink underwear and a navy-blue hoodie that belongs to hansol. his scent clings strongly to the fabric, and you breathe him in generously.

you know the rule like the back of your palm: don’t touch yourself while hansol is away. of course, rules were made to be broken, which precisely corresponds to how your hand drifts beneath the pink underwear, your fingertips brushing against your slit in order to feel the insane amount of arousal that collects. you release a long, alleviated sigh at the sweet contact.

planting your feet on the mattress, your knees bend and you spread your legs apart, loving how the cool air caresses your balmy skin. pulling the hoodie above your hips, you use one hand to open your folds while the other begins massaging circles against the hood of your clit. it feels magnificent, even more so when you shut your eyes and imagine hansol’s fingers instead.

as the house in empty, you’re consequently shameless, whimpering out the boy’s name in repetitive, breathy hymns. your fingers push gently past your slit, covering them in a light coating of gloss which you use to slick your sensitive bud. applying a sterner pressure, you resume rubbing in a circular pattern, all while your hips occasionally jerk in sparks of pleasure.

“yes, j-just like that! please hansol, please make me cum, i need it so bad…”

the conversation spews from your lips, though you’re talking to nothing but empty air. for a mere instance, you imagine the sharp dagger of his fangs scraping hard against your neck, his fingers curling inside you while his thumb brushes back and forth over your sore clit. your own hand begins working faster, driving you closer toward a beautiful, much needed afterglow.

“m-more, hansol! please, please let me cum on your fingers—ff-fuck, it feels so good!”

“does it feel good, baby? does it feel good touching yourself even when i told you not to?”

immediately your eyes fly open, your fingers stop pressing down on your clit, and the tip of your climax subsides like an emptying stream. the breath gets caught in your windpipe and your legs suction shut. standing right beside the bed is none other than fucking hansol, who gauges you with a vicious glint in his eyes, which are the same colour as flame mixed with honey.

you always forget that he’s as silent as a feather. it’s something you’ve never gotten used to.

“i-i’m so s-sorry! i just—i didn’t know that—i thought you’d be home by— i’m sorry!”

it feels like someone is clamping your tongue between their fingers, enabling you from explaining yourself. you shuffle up the bed, the slippery gloss still shining on your hand while you embarrassingly fumble for any sort of coherency. hansol watches you menacingly, as though you’re a piece of prey he’s going to tear into slowly. you can only swallow and sweat.

hansol leans down, hovering close to your face, his acute senses probably allowing him to hear just how quickly your heart drums as well as intensely smell the sticky pool between your thighs. he tilts your chin up slightly with an index finger, a dangerous, inhumane smirk curling from one corner lip to the other. you anticipate you’re in for the biggest ruin of your entire life.

he then chuckles huskily, running his tongue across his pointed teeth. “oh, my pretty baby, you know i can’t forgive you, darling, hm? you know i have to punish you, make you learn your fucking lesson. you know that, sweetheart. now,” he leans in closer, “what do you say?”

hansol smiles in complete satisfaction when you gulp down the enormous lump in your throat, responding with an obedient, “i understand, daddy. i deserve to be punished.”

your compliancy delights hansol to infinite ends, though it doesn’t dilute from the fact you were unable to restrain your hedonism. an accumulation of anticipation and fear creates a torrent in your lower tummy. you’ve never broken this particular rule before. you’re clueless as to what hansol’s punishment entails, until he digs into the bedside table, revealing a pair of metal cuffs.

“get the fuck over here.” hansol commands, his eyes blazing as he takes a seat on the bed.

immediately, you rid yourself of the hoodie and position yourself across hansol’s lap, your cheek pressing against the grey comforter while your bottom pokes slightly into the air. nervously, your fingers are clasped together at your back. it isn’t long before you feel the cold metal lock around each wrist, effectively restricting your movement.

the bedroom air grazes your skin. your bare body is on complete display, your tiny, pink pair of underwear revealed, and consequently, the soaked patch to which your arousal had permeated the fabric. you can’t help but squirm and hold your breath, feeling his hands knead your ass, knowing his gaze is singeing directly into your sopped underwear.

“messy little girl, aren’t you?” hansol hums, stroking his knuckles back and forth in a delicate motion, teasing along your aching pussy. “can’t even wait, huh?” he suddenly draws his hand back, a hard, electric slap causing your body to jolt forward. “can’t even fucking wait until daddy is home to touch you.” hansol’s palm rains down again, and a cry erupts from your lips.

however, the boy doesn’t respond cordially to your noises.

“keep your mouth shut,” hansol threads his fingers through your hair, slightly pulling up on your scalp while he growls into your ear, “or i’ll gag that pretty fucking mouth of yours. understand?”

it rapidly dawns on you which type of mood hansol is in. he’s usually domineering to a certain extent, but it’s been a long while since he’s last threatened to gag you. it makes perfect sense when you then consider the fact that hansol hasn’t fed for more than a month. he only drinks from you occasionally, knowing how easy it is to take too much and make a fatal mistake.

once you nod in response, hansol releases the intense grasp on your scalp and his hand returns to gently squeezing the burning flesh of your ass. he soothes the sting for no more than a minute before his palm is again smacking down brutally, a painful wave flaring at the area in which he’d struck. you bury your face into the sheets, not wanting to release even a peep.

“daddy is so upset with you, princess,” hansol remarks in a sorrowed tone, his hand continuing to ripple hard and lightning fast against your skin, “i know how much it hurts when i’m not there to touch you, baby. i know you get restless—,” hansol hardly gives you a moment to breath before he’s striking that same sore spot, “but that’s no excuse, and you know this.”

your bottom lip is tingling and raw from your teeth biting into it so fiercely. each slap is nearly harder than its counterpart, forcing a silver lining to wet your eyes. you hate disappointing hansol, you hate knowing he’s upset with you, and you wish for nothing more than to abide by his instructions and remain silent; however, every seam inside you is slowly breaking apart.

his merciless treatment doesn’t ease your dilemma either. he keeps slapping your abused flesh, until the area becomes increasingly numb yet so sensitive to the pain that your body begins quivering across his lap. the slick between your thighs is abundantly shimmering, dripping in sweet trails and wetting hansol’s pants. his palm flies down again, and this time you erupt.

a high-pitched cry slices through the air. no matter how much you force your cheek into the mattress, you can’t sink or hide any further. hansol is rigid beneath you.

“didn’t i tell you to keep your mouth shut?” his voice comes out in a snarl.

embarrassingly, you nod your head.

“that’s the second time you broke a fucking rule.” hansol’s warm breath then tickles the cusp of your ear, “what’s wrong with you, huh? you like pissing me off, princess? you want me to punish you, fuck your tight, sweet little cunt until you can’t even walk, is that it?”

your heart is racing on pure adrenaline. severely unsure on whether to shake your head or simply bob in agreement, you accidentally release another tiny, conflicted squeak, one that rasps demurely from your lips. hansol snuffs angrily at that. before you can process what’s happening, there’s a tearing noise that has your head raising alarmingly from the bed.

the realization that hansol had just tore your underwear off doesn’t register until he’s pulling your head back with a hand wrapped firmly beneath the column of your throat. the light pink material presses into your mouth, and you’re left in a haze as the cloth effectively prohibits much noise from escaping your lips. hansol seems satisfied, his hand gently rubbing your ass.

he lends you another deep smack, scoffing at the way your fingernails scar crescent indents to the flesh of your palms, how you’re already trembling and leaving damp blotches on his jeans. in fact, as the cool air brushes against your slicked, throbbing core, you recall how your earlier orgasm had been justly purloined. you bite harshly into the fabric when hansol touches you.

“hmm, so wet, aren’t you?” the boy purrs, his tongue running along his razor-sharp teeth while he easily glides two fingers between your folds.

just for a moment, hansol massages tender circles to your clit, and your hips jerk in reaction to the new warm, embers of pleasure. he grins devilishly, “you like when daddy touches you here? right on this pretty spot?” he applies more pressure, and it feels inconceivably relieving. hansol chuckles low in his throat, “you’re shaking, sweetheart. you wanna cum all over my fingers?”

his statement isn’t far from the truth, and yet, any bliss is instantly snuffed out as hansol removes his touch, just as you could feel the liquid-heat begin to spread. you nearly mewl in frustration, though the makeshift gag in your mouth blocks the dying wisp of sound.

“not yet, angel.” hansol teases. “not until daddy fucks you apart on his cock.”

the next thing you know, hansol has you maneuvered so you’re face-down-ass-up into the pillows, the metal cuffs clinking at your spine as hansol nudges your legs further apart. you can hear him undressing, how he tosses each article onto the floor until his pale, hard body is completely bare. you squirm in anticipation, knowing how utterly helpless you remain.

however, rather than his cock at your entrance, you’re left startled and overwhelmed by pleasure as hansol leans down, instead using the tip of his tongue to lick a wet strip up your pussy. your jaw tenses around the gag, and your eyes squeeze shut upon hansol continuing to lave his slick, soft tongue against the flesh. he closes his mouth around your clit and suckles.

your hips immediately grind back against his face in utmost desperation. hansol’s brassy laugher rumbles deep into your core, just before he pulls away, not wanting to allow you more appeasement than necessary. as he gets onto one knee, a hand stroking his cock, and positions himself behind you, there’s a wicked gleam in the honeyed flame of his eyes.

“i couldn’t resist, sweetheart. the way you’re fucking dripping… just your scent is making it hard for me to contain myself.”

you already know he’s thinking about sinking his fangs deep into your tender, pliable skin.

his cock presses against your entrance. of course, hansol spends ample time teasing, simply running the swollen head between your slippery folds and tapping himself against your clit. yet, he leaves not on ounce of time for you to adjust when he finally decides to push himself inside you. immediately, he hits deep, to which you can feel his cock throbbing against your abdomen.

“ff-fuck,” hansol grits between his teeth, his hands locket-tight around your hips in order to keep you in place, “fuck, your pretty cunt is s-so warm, s-so fuckin’ t-tight… g-god…”

he slurs his words like there’s nothing but alcohol thick in his veins. you feel absolutely stuffed, right to the very hilt, your pussy stretched in the most pleasurable manner around his member. it isn’t until the boy begins thrusting at a hard, thorough pace that you can’t help but whine around the pink, fabric gag, though hansol seems to allow it for the time being.

there’s an impenetrable fire in his eyes as he rams into you, the bedframe jolting against the wall each time he draws his hips out, only to slam them forward, rough and unforgivingly. a heavy furrow burns itself onto your face, an expression twisted in the carnality that consumes you whole. hansol doesn’t go any easier on you, encompassed by his own extreme lust.

his leans over top your back with his hips still desperately rutting into you, and you whimper once more around the gag as hansol licks at the juncture between your neck and shoulder. the second he curls his lips back and his canines drag toward the sensitive, inner slope of your neck, a shiver melts beneath your flesh. he has yet to bite, just scrapes at your skin with a smirk.

but you develop an earnest notion that hansol won’t be able to resist his desire. likewise, you won’t be able to hold out much longer. the head of hansol’s cock pushes firm into your golden spot, consistently and at an overwhelmingly intense pace. the drool manages to accumulate at your chin regardless of the gag, and you forget the stinging sensation of the metallic cuffs.

“s-so close, aren’t you?” hansol hisses. “mmm, t-that’s it, princess. c-cum for daddy, okay?”

as soon as hansol reaches a hand between your legs and begins rubbing his thumb across your swollen clit, you shatter into pieces, your walls immediately suctioning tight around hansol’s cock, your arousal coating him until the noises of your own slick have you mewling in a conflict embarrassment and ecstasy. your contractions force hansol to experience his own release.

however, the boy is rather intent to capitalize on the unprecedented pleasure. upon feeling his cum shoot in prolonged, creamy spurts deep inside you, hansol simultaneously digs his fangs into a rather soft portion of your neck, instantly breaking the fragile skin. you cry out through the gag, tears slipping salty and hot down your face at the painful, thrumming sensation.

though hansol’s pace slows marginally, he still continues snapping his hips into you, his cum dripping slow, sticky and warm down the back of your thighs. after removing his teeth from the puncture wounds, hansol attaches his mouth over the slits and begins suckling, the tangy, copper-like taste of your blood gushing across his tongue. your lungs shake as you try to breath.

you turn your head, your cheek sinking into the pillowcase. it doesn’t take long before you note how the bedroom colours begin sponging together, like an artist mixing paint on their easel. a fuzziness blots your mind, and ever so slightly, you begin seeing double of certain objects. the more hansol drinks, the worse your vision becomes, until your eyes unwillingly flutter shut.

a few minutes pass, and you aren’t one-hundred percent sure what’s happening. very faintly, you can feel hansol softly lick over the wound at your neck, using his unique saliva to numb your pain and close the two holes. the strict metal confining your wrists seems to disappear, and at long last, you feel the gag gently being pulled out from your mouth.

hansol’s movements are incredibly ginger. he helps you roll onto your back, and the dim lights twinkle in the blurry corners of your vision for a lingering second. eventually, everything sorts itself back into one image, and you see hansol peering down at you with a tender look in his amber eyes. he strokes your cheek slowly, rests his forehead against yours as he kisses you.

you haven’t been able to exercise your vocal cords, so you shy from speaking. instead, you allow hansol to decorate your neck with sweet, solacing nips and licks, a state of drowsiness slowly impending upon you. however, no matter how sleepy you’re becoming, you manage to dryly chirp out the boy’s name as he moves down the bed to nuzzle between your thighs.

“ah—,” hansol cuts you off, “that’s not my name, darling.”

you swallow tautly, your heart hammering as you ask, “daddy, w-what are you doing?”

hansol only smirks at you while pulling your folds apart with his thumbs, observing how the thick streams of his cum pool slowly from your swollen entrance. your fingers clasp at the bedsheets, watching intently as hansol leans in close with a glaze in his eyes. suddenly, the boy spits on your pussy, his tongue then lapping at your sensitive flesh in fervent and warm licks.

immediately, an unexpected warble uproots from your chest. you attempt to close your thighs, though hansol pries them down with his strong grip. using one hand, he gathers some of his cum that had oozed out, then pushes it back inside your entrance, slipping his digits in right until the knuckle. you tilt your head back and weep, especially as his tongue flicks your clit.

“d-ddaddy! i-i c-can’t— o-oh, f-fuck, please! please be gentle…”

“hmm…” hansol curls his fingers perfectly against your g-spot, “but this is your punishment, sweetheart. i don’t care if you’re sensitive. you’ll take what i fucking give you, pretty baby.���

at that, hansol buries his face back into your core, lathering his wet tongue across your ruined silk while his fingers unforgivingly rut into that pliant, spongey patch. everything begins blurring again. your chest arches upon feeling hansol’s fangs brush your clit, their sharp edge just grazing the sore flesh and garnering a massive sob from your chest. hansol grins.

“that’s it, sweetheart,” he mumbles into your folds, his chin and mouth glimmering with a concoction of your arousal, “you gonna let go, hm? you gonna let go from me fingering my own cum back into your precious cunt? fuck, i might have to drink from you again, baby. your blood tastes so fucking good when i already have your cum on my tongue.”

the world collapses beneath you like a house of paper cards. you practically dig up up the bedsheets from their tightly tucked crevices, attempting to withstand the force of the orgasm that ripples throughout your exhausted frame. hansol abides by his earlier testament. he sinks his razored fangs deep into the inner meat of your thigh, creating another wound.

he suckles eagerly, in unbeknownst thirst, drawing the addicting, seraphic flavour of your blood onto his tongue. there’s a tingling sensation that follows suit. you feel the pins and needles in every vein. you allow hansol to freely drink, one of your hands falling atop his head so that you can shakily stroke his black hair. he hums contentedly, sensing your thigh tremble beneath him.

by the time he’s satisfied, you’re teetering on the edge of what feels like an eternal slumber and hollowed consciousness. hansol wipes the crimson trails from the corner of his mouth. he climbs back up your body, completely spent of all energy, and says something to you, though his words sound somewhat muffled. you’re overwhelmed with the urge to fall asleep.

unable to resist the heaviness in your body, you allow yourself to fade.

the next time your eyes slowly flutter open, you note that you’re still in bed, with a distant ache echoing at the side of your neck and inner thigh. the blankets pool around your waist as you sit up, to which you note that you’re wearing a clean pair of underwear and one of hansol’s soft, patterned flannels. there’s a water glass on the bedside table, and you drink from it gratefully.

“hey.” the bedroom door squeaks open, and hansol steps inside.

you smile toward him at first, mumbling a quiet “hi” in response, though you realize you wanted to ask him a question: “did i pass out or something?”

hansol sits on the edge of the bed, his lips then pressing in a sweet, comforting kiss to your forehead. he kisses your sore wrists too, still a little chaffed from the metal cuffs, and nods empathetically. you see that his eyes are no longer an amber blaze, but their usual, mellow shade of chocolate. he replies in a gentle tone, to which you can read the apologetic, lighthearted nature that tends to warm his face after rough sex.

“you fell straight asleep. i think i was too hard on you, babe. i shouldn’t have fucking emptied you like a juice box, huh?”

laughter rumbles in your throat, and you shake your head.

“no, it was fine! i know you would never take enough to hurt me.”

hansol’s gaze seems to twinkle over with an arduous sentiment, one that makes your chest feel as though it’s made from pink cloud and stardust. you love the way he looks at you, like you’re the most important thing he’s ever known (and hansol has known many, many people in his often cold and lonesome lifetimes). he’s just thankful to have met someone like you.

“i love you.” hansol hums while soothingly tracing circles to the bitemark on your thigh.

of course, you end up pulling hansol down into the bedsheets with you to cuddle. even though the possibility lingers that you could dose off again, hansol doesn’t mind. as long as he has the opportunity to stare wonderfully at your pretty face, he wouldn’t ever have a problem with it.

#seventeen smut #vernon smut #hansol smut #seventeen scenarios #vernon scenarios #hansol scenarios #svt smut #svt fanfic #kpop smut #svt scenarios #vampire!au #i will be thinking about this forever

[mukubear]

The Pirate and The Qilin

This is a small rarepair that I actually enjoy, and wanted to make a cute story involving them, so here you go!

Ship: Beidou x Ganyu

With the warmer days starting to come to Liyue, the various food vendors were starting to offer up some cold dishes to combat the heat and many of its citizens are taking breaks from work so they don't suffer from overheating or exhaustion. Surprisingly enough, one of those who were doing so was Ganyu despite how much she loved to work and took a couple days off in a row to also relax for her own health after being advised to do so by her boss, Ningguang.

Today, she was walking along the entire harbor, taking in the cool air from the sea. Ganyu always enjoyed the sights from the harbor, watching ships sail in and out the city, various wildlife appearing from the water, and when it's nighttime during Lantern Rite.

While she was strolling around the dock and taking in the sight, Ganyu spotted a familiar ship just arriving and began to walk where it was docking. Soon reaching the ship, she saw it was the exact ship she thought it was, The Alcor and it's crew, The Crux.

Shortly afterwards, coming from the captain's quarters, the captain and leader emerged onto the deck with an ever so prideful stride as she knows her own reputation to the people of Liyue. She then slowly walked off the deck and onto the docks, seeing the familiar face of her only friend in the Qixing.

"What's up Ms. Secretary, it's been awhile hasn't it, how have you been doing?"

Ganyu gave a tiny smile before walking closer and looking up at the taller woman. "Greetings Ms. Beidou, it has been a while and I've been fine. What about you, what has the sea offered up since we last met?"

"Still the same old you, come on and follow me. I'll tell you about it all while having a proper meal!" With that, Beidou began walking away with Ganyu in tow towards the Third-Round Knockout and ordered her special Flash-Fried Filet for herself and a dish of Universal Peace for her friend while talking about the past couple of weeks.

Ganyu has always been keen on talking to Beidou, always enjoying any time she has with her despite them being polar opposites both in personality and lines of work. The same can be said on Beidou's end, loving the time she can spend with Ganyu, especially because they usually have to be under the radar with meetings since the majority of the Qixing have a major disliking towards Beidou herself.

Soon enough, the two had finished their meals and began walking back to The Alcor, having some small talk of still catching up. Upon arriving at the ship, Ganyu stopped walking and stared at Beidou. "How long are you staying in Liyue this time?" She was genuinely curious as for a few reasons, one of which was because she did want to spend a couple more days with Beidou as they both didn't have many they can call friends.

"Sadly I need to leave by night, having to transport some exports on behalf of the Qixing. However I'll be back in a few days this time rather than weeks. Why do you ask?"

Upon hearing that Beidou would be gone a few days this time, Ganyu grew happy but then realized that by the time she does return she'd have to return to work like normal which instantly ruined her mood before an idea came to her mind. "Could I perhaps join you on this voyage Ms. Beidou?"

A laugh came from the captain before staring directly into Ganyu's eyes. "You ask such an interesting question, not many ever ask to join me on any voyages that aren't part of my crew. What brought interest to Ms. Secretary to join the liking of a pirate?"

A faint blush grew on the Qixing secretary before speaking up. "Well.. I want to know what it's like to be on the open sea seeing how I've never traveled by ship before." While Ganyu was genuine with her response, she also had the reason for wanting to spend some more time with Beidou before having to work once again.

"Well I'll be. Come aboard then, I'll show you around The Alcor so you're acquainted with the different rooms there are below deck."

Upon saying that, Beidou didn't think of the fact that she could possibly be skipping work and grabbed her hand as she brought Ganyu around below deck showing the brig, crew quarters, and kitchen with the canteen. She was quite happy that Ganyu had some interest in joining this voyage along with being able to teach her some knowledge in her area of expertise. After the small tour of the ship, Beidou soon brought Ganyu above deck and to the captain's quarters, decorated with various trinkets and treasures from previous voyages. The room also houses a large bed just for the captain herself. "While you're my guest on this voyage, you can use my quarters like it was your own! I'll be back in a moment, need to have a word with the crew." With that, Beidou gave Ganyu a small pet on her head, slightly petting her horns on accident causing her to blush from the touch as she watched her leave the quarters.

After a moment, Ganyu sat down on the bed, finding it quite comfortable as she laid down on it, taking a moment to properly relax and take in the moment. Not too long into relaxing, she had fallen asleep with how late it was at the time.

Early the next morning, Ganyu found herself waking up in the captain's quarters, feeling something over her torso. As she opened her eyes and adjusted to the lighting, she soon saw Beidou laying behind her, holding her close with arms wrapped around her hips and torso. She began to blush horrendously as she slowly maneuvered the arms holding her in place off herself as she got up from the bed and nearly fell over from the waves guiding the ship to its destination.

Opening up the door to the deck, the warm sun hit her skin, helping her wake up some more as she saw the crew doing their jobs of adjusting sails to catch the wind, changing the length of some so they don't have difficulty when having to turn. She walked over the the side of the ship, looking out over the glimmering ocean water, occasionally seeing a dolphin jump from the water, making her smile as she continued to walk around the deck.

It wasn't long before Ganyu stood at the helmet, watching over everything going on with the ship and it's crew before suddenly feeling a hand atop her head and horns, petting her ever so slightly, making her turn red and had her face behind her hands. 

"Hey there Ms. Secretary, how well did you sleep?" After saying that, Beidou looked down at Ganyu, seeing the reaction she was having, finding it cute. "Don't be shy!"

After a moment, the hand left her head and Ganyu looked up to Beidou, a shy smile given behind the intense blush. "I slept well.. your bed was quite comfortable.."

"That's good to hear, I'm glad you found it so. Well, be prepared for a few more days on the ocean before getting back to Liyue. I hope you enjoy your time with me and my crew."

With that said, both girls went about doing different things but for the most part Ganyu ended up following Beidou around the ship as she didn't really know any of the crew and also to keep catching up some more.

Another day and night passes, Ganyu once again wakes up with Beidou holding onto her, making her blush as she copies the same thing she did the morning before and walks to the deck and takes in the view again before heading back into the captain's quarters, wanting to change out of her clothes before the realization that she didn't pack any spare clothes for the trip, making her start to panic a small bit.

The pacing of heels hitting against the wooden boards caused Beidou to soon wake up, rubbing her one eye as she stared at Ganyu, able to tell something was wrong. "Hey. Ganyu, you alright? Did something happen?"

Stopping in her tracks and turning to face Beidou, Ganyu took some deep breaths before speaking. "No. I just realized that I didn't bring any spare clothes for the voyage."

"Is that all? Y'know, I don't mind if you borrow some of mine from that closet over there." She pointed at the closet in question before stretching and getting off the bed. "I'll leave you to change, I need to get to the wheel." With that, Beidou left the quarters, leaving Ganyu alone to her changing problem.

Now that she calmed down, she walked over and opened the closet, seeing the same outfit Beidou wears but in ever so slightly different styles. Ganyu knew that anything she was to choose would be a bit too big on her, but it was better than wearing her dirty clothes for the rest of the voyage. She soon grabbed the light blue coloured outfit and looked at herself in the mirror, feeling happy for some reason she didn't understand. Ganyu left and found Beidou, holding a short conversation as she was trying to steer the ship.

Later that night, Ganyu was having difficulty sleeping and walked to the bow of the ship, watching the moonlight dance on the water's surface and land off in the distance. The quiet was very peaceful as it helped clear her mind until the sound of boots walking on the deck could be heard moving closer to Ganyu.

"Hey Ms. Secretary, what's got you up this late?" Beidou soon joined Ganyu, standing next to her and taking in the same view as she did. "It's beautiful isn't it? It's a luxury for most to see something like this."

"I have just been thinking a lot since I agreed to join this voyage."

"Can I ask what exactly you've been thinking? You know you can always talk to me if needed."

Ganyu turned to look at Beidou, staring up to catch the look in her eyes. "My feelings.. it's nothing important.."

"Tell me. You're my guest and I want to make sure you're enjoying your time on my ship."

"Well.. I'm just uncertain on how I feel about someone.. not sure if it's something more or something less.."

Beidou placed a hand on her shoulder, giving her a smile. "I understand that feeling. I've had the same thoughts go through my head before whenever I leave Liyue. Can I ask who the person you're talking about? I'll even say the one I think about if you tell me."

Ganyu grew nervous, finding it hard to breathe a bit before calming down while staring into Beidou's eye. "W-Well.. the person is y-you.." Her face instantly turned red as she tried to hide it.

Hearing the answer, Beidou blushed ever so slightly as she began to pet Ganyu on the head and horns. "That's funny. My person is you." She said that with a smile as she found Ganyu to be even cuter with the reaction on her face.

Feeling as she was being pet, Ganyu only hid her face even more and grew even more flustered than she was, but grew shocked from what Beidou said to her. "Really..?" Then to only see her nod in response, making her happier than ever as she pushed herself forward and clung onto Beidou. 

In return, Beidou stopped the petting and held onto Ganyu, rubbing her back softly. "You're the only person who takes the time out of the day to keep up with me and my travels and give me a good time during my time in Liyue. After getting to know you for these years, I couldn't help but grow feelings for you. Then seeing your cute shyness whenever I pet you made it harder to not fall for you."

Beidou held onto Ganyu's chin, lifting her face as she leaned down, pressing their lips together as she gave the short girl a kiss, holding it for a few seconds before pulling away. "I love you, Ganyu."

Ganyu grew the most flustered she's ever been as she hid her face by pressing it up against Beidou's chest, nuzzling slightly into it. "I l-love you too.. Beidou.."

After a quiet moment under the moonlight, Beidou grabbed ahold of Ganyu's hand. "Let's get back to my quarters and sleep for the night, my love."

Ganyu nodded before following behind Beidou back the the captain's quarters and laying on the bed, cuddling with her love.

#genshin impact #ganyu #beidou #genshin ganyu #genshin beidou #writing #short story #beidou x ganyu #ganyu x beidou

[feverinfeveroutfic]

chapter twenty: practice what you preach

Sam awoke to the feeling of Alex's little body nestled up right next to her. At some point, over the course of the night, she inched closer to him and he had put his arm around her once again. She slid her foot back towards that edge of the bed only feel to it was icy cold from the nightfall. Indeed, the entire house was cold from the night and the induction of the Bay Area fog outside.

Even with the daybreak, the Bay Area was still dark and cold from the dead of winter. She cuddled closer to him like they did in the back seat of the car: the sole difference was that a full inch of rain had fallen all over San Francisco overnight rather than something over a foot of snow. But she shivered regardless of the covers over her body.

There was a loud clank at the front of the house, followed by a pair of soft voices.

Alex groaned in his throat at the sound and Sam opened her eyes. His face remained right before her own: the tip of that aquiline nose about an inch from her cheekbone. Those sharp eyebrows as smooth as stone, and that skin as pale and smooth as the very snows that chased them away from Lake Tahoe. Even though he lay flat on his back, he had rolled his head over the top of the pillow and thus that little tuft of gray hung right above her eyes. For a moment there, upon her opening her eyes, she swore that he was a small boy once again, especially given they were in his old bedroom and they lay underneath all of those old posters from when he was a kid and in high school.

A part of her wanted to stroke his face, just to feel that smooth delicate skin and really find out if it was that smooth and soft as it looked. But she decided not to as he stirred a bit and rolled his head back a bit so she could only see the side of his face. She kept her eye on his chin and the delicate tight skin underneath; followed by the curvature of his lips, and then she fixated on his prominent nose and his high features, as stark and aged as stone in spite of his youth.

Young and old at the same time.

She nibbled on her bottom lip as he fetched up a sigh and held still right there next to her. She had kept her hand on something soft. It wasn't his hipbone.

“Alex!” Arlene called from the front of the house. “Alex! Samantha!”

Sam dared not move her hand lest he wake up to it instead of his mother's voice.

“Hey, kids!” Jerry followed up. Alex stirred again but he never awoke. Sam kept her lips pursed together, and she wondered if a certain small movement of her hand would do anything more for him.

“Breakfast is ready!” Arlene called out once again.

Once she had said that, Sam could feel the hunger within her as it gnawed away at the inside of her stomach. She wanted to move her hand but then again Alex still hadn't moved a single muscle. She held onto something soft and warm and she had no clue if it was actually his body or something else.

“Alexander Nathan Skolnick!” Arlene spat.

And he popped his eyes open at that, and he stared straight up above to the ceiling. Sam never moved a muscle.

“Is that your hand,” he asked her in a flat tone of voice.

“I don't even know where my hand is,” she confessed.

“Are you guys awake?” Arlene followed up.

“Yes, Ma!” Alex shouted which in turn made Sam grimace a bit. “Sorry,” he told her in a low voice. “Anyways, that better be your hand.”

“It's on your body, I know that much.”

He rolled his head over the top of the pillow again, that time with squinted eyes.

“Ma?” Arlene laughed.

“Ma and Pa,” Jerry called out, which in turn made Alex roll his eyes, but Sam giggled at them. She moved her hand and she realized that she had grabbed a handful of blanket, much to their confusion.

“What the hell was on me, then?” Alex asked her as she rolled out of bed.

“My arm, maybe?”

“Could be. But I could've sworn that it was your hand, though.” He followed her out of bed and, even though she put her jeans back on, he kept his shirt off as he walked with her into the front of the house, much to Arlene's shock as she brought over the plates of fresh matzo and sausage patties.

“Alex! What're ya doin'? Put your shirt on!”

“He feels better without a shirt, Mrs. Skolnick,” Sam told her as she took her seat next to Jerry at the kitchen table.

“I'm getting cold just looking at him, though,” Arlene insisted as she handed Sam a cup of coffee. “How do you like your coffee, by the way?”

“A little bit of cream,” she replied.

“Always start out with cream.” She shook her head with a smile but then she looked on at Alex with a slight sneer on her face.

“It's fine, Mom, I promise,” Alex pointed out as he ran his hands down his forearms. His pale skin seemed to glow under the kitchen lights as if made entirely of snow; once she took her spot across from him, he hunched his shoulders a bit. Indeed, it was rather cold in the house and the heater seemed to have a bit of trouble in picking up from underneath the metallic vent on the floor next to Jerry. His jet black hair flowed over his shoulders like little tentacles; his nipples tightened and goose pimples crossed over the skin on his waist. He was cold but Sam was sure that he wanted to be without a shirt, much like she wanted to be without a bra until they went out again.

“Alex—baby—go put a shirt on,” Arlene encouraged him.

“Go brush your hair, too, son,” Jerry told him, and Alex let out a sigh and then he stood up and ducked out of the kitchen.

“I also promised my mom I'd call her when I got here,” Sam said once he left.

“Oh, yes, definitely do that!” Arlene told her. “Phone's right over there over the stove, bubbeleh.”

Sam rounded the table and she stepped over to the little black telephone there on the wall next to the stove. She dialed her mother's number and she held the receiver to her ear. One ring, two rings—

“Hello, hello?” Esmé answered in a broken voice.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Oh! Sam! Thank heaven! I was just starting to get worried about you and Alex because you hadn't called me.”

“We got snowed in up at Tahoe the night before last,” she explained, “like we got to Carson City and then I took him up to the southern edge of the lake and it started snowing. It was nighttime by then, too, so we just buttoned up for the night and waited for the snow to stop. When it did, we went up to Incline Village for breakfast and now we're at his parents' house in Berkeley. Spent the night here last night.”

“Oh, good! Thank heaven. What matters is you kids are safe and both are in one piece. Also, I got a letter from Joey believe it or not. Just last night.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, he brought it over to me, like he must've seen me from across the room—we were in the grocery store in Long Beach.”

“Greg brought it to you,” she said aloud.

“Yeah—and Joey said he's going to meet you down at the harbor when you get down here again, whenever that may be.”

“I dunno, to be honest with you, Mom, because I have no idea what Alex and his parents are going to do.”

“Oh, no, wait, it says he's going to meet you there later today.”

“Today?”

“Yeah. No idea what time exactly, but he did say the day after New Year's, though.”

Sam fetched up a sigh. On one hand, she wanted Joey to have at least called her about it. But then again, he didn't know where she had gone off to and he didn't know where Alex and his parents lived there in Berkeley, either.

She bode her mother farewell for the time being, and she returned to Jerry and Arlene there at the table.

“My mom told me that I have a little something waiting for me down in Long Beach,” she told them, “which means I have to be down there today.”

“Aw, you're leaving us, bubbeleh?” Arlene looked hurt by that.

“I'm afraid so. And what does that mean, too?”

“What, 'bubbeleh'?”

“'Little doll', right?” Alex joined in from behind them; Sam thought about Belinda and if she and Marla had gone back home at that moment.

“Yeah! I used to call him that when he was little, because he was just this little doll of a little boy.”

Alex took his seat right next to Sam, now wrapped up in a long black shirt with a white square on his chest: it looked as though he had attempted to brush his hair but he never went further than his bangs, which started to grow out rather long: the bottoms brushed upon that sharp brow to where the longest tips began to obscure his eyes and make them appear even deeper than before.

“Have you heard of Run DMC?” he asked her as he gestured to his chest.

“I have now,” she told him.

“Oh, man! You've got so much to learn, Samantha.”

“So much to learn and so much to give, too,” Jerry followed up to that.

“Give it all to our boy over here,” Arlene chimed in with a hearty little chuckle.

“Oy vey,” Alex muttered as he took another bite of fresh matzo ball.

Sam stayed there and relished her cup of coffee and her spot at the table between Jerry and Alex. But she knew that she would have to pick up her things again and head on over to the airport, and by Alex's direction no less.

By around ten o'clock in the morning, and a few holes had broken through on the fog bank over the Bay Area, Alex changed back into a fresh pair of jeans and Sam had put her bra back on, albeit in the bathroom. Even from the other side of the house, she caught the sound of Alex's voice in the kitchen. Even with his parents, he still stood out like a sore thumb and he had the big booming voice to boot on top of it. Indeed, even when he stood next to his band mates, he seemed to dwarf them, especially Chuck who loomed up close to his height.

But then she thought about Joey and the fact that he had confessed to her even through a drunken stupor.

She wondered what he had in store for her as she headed out of the bathroom and made her way back to Alex's room for her purse, and then she walked back up the hall, towards the front foyer for her shoes and her jacket. Alex glanced over at her.

“Oh, there she is,” he said in a low voice, and he turned to front door for the same things as well. He took his seat next to her there on that little velvet bench and they laced up together. He put on his jacket and he reached into his pocket for the car keys.

“Come back any time, bubbeleh,” Arlene told her, and she put her arms around her.

“I'm sure I will!” Sam declared with a big bold laugh.

“Be safe and give your mother a hug for us,” Jerry added as he embraced her as well.

“I shall, Mr. Skolnick,” she promised; he put his arm around Alex at the same time.

“Li'l group hug!” he chuckled. “I'll be back.”

“You behave,” Arlene advised him in a low voice, and he made a soft little whimper at that.

Alex led Sam back outside to the car and that time, he climbed in behind the wheel.

“I really do like your parents, Alex,” she told him once they got rolling.

“I just—I feel like they were putting me on the spot the whole time,” he confessed.

“In your defense, they kinda were,” she said, “like especially when we were in the back room and you were showing me that riff, and you couldn't finish it.”

“Yeah, and I don't like being interrupted, either,” he added.

“I still like them, though. I like your dad, especially. I mean, he told me to come to him for anything school related. I like that.”

“Thank you for that,” he told her. “When I was growing up, a lot of people didn't, because they're New Yorkers and they're scary smart collegiate professors and everybody thought their raising my brother and me like that screwed us up.”

“Hey, at least they aren't from a strict religion,” she pointed out, which in turn made him chuckle.

“No, they aren't! I'd rather they be fully educated anyways.” He paused for a moment as they pulled up to a stoplight.

“By the way, are you thinking of continuing on with school? 'Cause—it looks like you didn't finish.”

“I didn't, no.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I don't really know, if I'm honest with you, Alex.”

The light turned green and they fell back into silence all the way over to the airport, all for the next flight out to Los Angeles. A quick one way ticket and the two of them walked together to the gate, both of them as silent as ever. It would be another minute before the gate opened and thus Sam turned to him and the gentle look on his face, the most gentle she had seen him.

He put his arms around her and held her close to his slender body. Still very soft from the two nights together.

“Give your mom a hug for me,” he told her in a hushed voice.

“Gladly,” she vowed to him. More people congregated behind them in anticipation of the flight.

“Also,” he added, “um—look for our last name in your mom's mailbox around the—middle of the month, give or take.”

“Oh?”

He showed her a shy, small smile in response to that. Sam stood still before him, slightly befuddled, but then she realized what he was telling her.

“I'll be on the lookout,” she promised him, and she wondered what it was exactly that Joey had in store for her.

“You better get going,” he encouraged her in a low voice, and she turned her attention to the gate behind her. Everyone behind them proceeded to board the plane.

“February, you said?” she asked him.

“Right on the first! Please join us.”

“I'll see you soon,” she told him.

“You, too,” he said. “Safe travels.” For a second, she swore that he winked at her. But then she picked up her things and headed over to the gate, and she boarded the plane with everyone else. She peered over her shoulder at the sight of him there with his hands tucked in his jeans pockets and the somber look on his face. The tuft of gray hair stood high over the right side of his brow like a little icicle. Those eyes locked onto her one last time before she turned away and headed down the terminal corridor; she then boarded onto the plane in silence.

And that whole entire time she never came across her father anywhere in the Bay Area: yet another thing she had to address to her mother once she was back down south.

She took that flight headed for Los Angeles once more, and soon thereafter she would board the boat down to Santa Catalina Island. She was bound to return to New York at one point regardless of anything else simply to visit Joey in upstate and to lay on her couch once again.

Over the course of that ninety minute flight, she thought about Alex's behavior over the course of their entire trip. It all worked out so perfectly with them even when she intended on nothing more than to improvise on it all. That was it right there: her first window into Alex and her confirmation on what Louie had said to her on the ride down the California coast. He had shown a new side to him, but she swore that she had a long way to go with him.

Add to this, she had a long way to go with Joey as well. She gazed out the window to the snow covered mountain tops down below: on the other side was the vast stretch of desert that seemed to go on out East for eternity. She and Alex had rode up that desert together all alone: on the other side of the plane, even though she couldn't see it from her seat, the Coastal Range and the coastline itself loomed down below the plane.

An hour later, and she landed just outside of Long Beach, where Joey himself awaited her there outside of the gate. His brown eyes appeared a bit lazier than usual but he showed her that familiar lopsided grin once she rounded the corner.

She hurried up to him with her arms wide open.

They embraced each other and he planted his lips onto hers.

“God, I missed you,” he confessed to her.

“Where's Krista?” she asked him in a near whisper.

“She went back home to Kansas City. I think she got the message.” He flashed her a wink at that.

And with nothing more to add, he led her out of the airport and back over to the docks for the next large boat over to Catalina. It was a cold, blustery day there in Long Beach, such that he lingered closer to her as they awaited their ride: the gray waters out before them chopped and shortened up with the cold winter winds around them.

She could feel his fingers right on the seat of her pants, and she showed him a mischievous smile as a result.

Indeed, once they boarded the boat, he kept one hand on her knee the whole twenty two miles. At one point, he slid his hand up the inside of her thigh, and she playfully slapped the back of his hand at the feeling. He showed her another lopsided grin at that.

Within time, the harbor outside of Avalon emerged in their view: all the usual little boats and yachts around the place had docked up for the New Year and also for the storm that had passed through. Esmé awaited them at the far end of the dock, wrapped up in a little sweater and with her cat eye glasses perched upon the bridge of her nose all the while.

“There are my babies,” she declared once they came within earshot; she embraced Sam so tight that she swore that she would cut off her circulation. Joey let Sam take the front seat and they drove back to the house.

Once they had made their way inside, Esmé continued on back to her bedroom for something, but that left Sam and Joey some time alone together.

“Alone at last,” he said as she guided him into her bedroom. She nudged the door shut, but she left it ajar a bit by a sliver the width of her pink nail.

“So how was your road trip?” he asked her once he peeled off his jacket, followed by his shirt. He tossed both on the chair in the corner of the room, and then he lunged for the bed.

“Exciting and quite the adventure,” she told him as she took off her jacket and her shirt. She unhooked her bra and left it on the floor next to her feet.

“An adventure like what we're about to have?” he asked her in a husky voice; she climbed up next to him but she never moved any closer to him. There had to be something here, something more just to get her going.

“Joey, we're in my bed,” she whispered to him.

“So? Let's get it on, Sam I am. I should tell you—State of Euphoria went gold.”

“Oh—Oh, Joey. Mister Lead Singer.”

She set one hand on the side of her and then she lowered herself down on top of him, and she placed her lips onto his dark ones. As smooth and silken as molten chocolate still: he tasted like peppermint and she knew that he had brushed his teeth just prior to her landing. A little tip of his tongue onto her own and she wondered where they would go from there. She had already put her lips onto his length when in England, but there was something more here. Something a little more homely.

“Sam?” Esmé called from the front of the house, which in turn brought the two of them to a complete standstill.

“Yes?” Sam replied back to her.

“Could you come in here for a second?”

She fetched up a sigh and she climbed off of Joey. With a bit of haste, she put her bra and her shirt back on over her body, and she headed into the kitchen to see what was the matter. Esmé struggled to remove the cork from a brand new bottle of sparkling cider, and thus Sam decided to help her. Though it was dry, she hoped that Joey wouldn't smell it from the next room, but at that point, her mother had poured her a glass of that cider and offered her a slice of pie with her lunch.

She thought of Alex all the while and since she knew that she hadn't eaten since that morning, she took the glass and the pie and took her seat there at the bar. Soon, Joey joined them and he, too, received a plate of pie and some cider himself.

“My little girl's actually going to be twenty four in a few days time,” Esmé remarked with a wistful tone to her voice.

The same age as Cliff, and just like with Cliff, she, too, hadn't been touched between the legs herself either. All the little glances and glimpses from Joey made her wonder if they would go any further than that over the course of the next few weeks.

But they never did: given the extent of Anthrax's tour, Joey returned back home to New York the next morning after he had spent the night with them. Much like Alex, he took to the comfy couch overnight, and Sam and Esmé saw him off on the next flight out to Anthrax's next stop in Houston.

Sam's twenty fourth birthday in the middle of the month came with the next round of winter's rain as it lasted the full week, from Martin Luther King, Jr. Day all the way to that weekend when the country watched the inauguration of Bush. The whole entire time she watched it on the little television in the guest room, she thought of Alex and the package that he and his parents had sent her: a black fedora with a white ribbon around the base of the crown and a little black and red feather on one side. Alongside it was a handmade card from them, pieced together with colorful cardstock and some ribbon. On the inside, in neat penmanship and bright red sparkling ink, it read:

“Happy birthday, Samantha! Love, Jerry, Arlene, and Alex.”

She smiled at their names as she placed the hat upon her head, and she wondered if Joey was willing to give her something for her day as well, especially if Alex's words about gifts were anything to go by.

Indeed, she wore that hat on the flight back up to San Francisco on the first, much to the pleasure of the flight agents all around the airport and even a couple of the stewardesses on the plane. Alex awaited her at the gate, albeit with a grin on his face.

“Had a feeling that hat'd be a good fit for you,” he told her once she gave him a hello hug.

“You picked this out?” she asked him.

“Nah, my mom did. She was like, 'I haven't even met her yet and yet I feel this hat would fit her wonderfully!' and then you met her and after you left, she was like 'yes, definitely send that hat to her, baby.'” She chuckled at that. “Anyways, come with me.”

Alex led her out of the airport into the cold San Francisco Bay fog outside, and ultimately to his car. They drove over to that studio that he had shown her on New Year's Day, and they were greeted by an excited Louie wrapped up in a leather jacket right there on the front doorstep.

“Also, I should tell you that I finally figured it out!” Alex proclaimed with a twinkle in his eye.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah!” He unbuckled his seat belt, but he didn't climb out as of yet. “Literally right after you left, my dad was playing a record from a man named Al Di Meola and I heard it from my room, and it was like a lightning bolt. I ran across the hall and I started playing it on this guitar and then I was like 'yes!' So I called up Eric and showed it to him and he was like 'right on! Let's go with that!'”

They climbed out together and Louie hurried over to her with his arms wide open.

“I feel like I haven't seen you in a million years,” he declared right into her ear.

“It's only been a few weeks, Lou,” she told him.

But then he led the two of them into the studio, with that lush shag carpet on the floor and the bright high ceiling overhead. To the right stood the actual sound room itself, where Greg and Eric had already walked into with their guitars in hand. They rounded the corner only to find Chuck speaking with a familiar bob of black hair in the desk chair before him.

“Hey, Zelda!” Sam greeted her.

“Hey, hey! I was wonderin' when you'd get here!” Zelda clambered to her feet and threw her arms around Sam. “Happy belated birthday, by the way. Eric reminded me.”

“Thank you so much! And happy belated to Louie Louie over here, too.”

“Ha!” Louie belted out as he took off his jacket and hung it on the hook next to them; right underneath his jacket was a miniature fridge.

“The girls and I have a gift for ya, too,” Zelda continued, “but it's not like this hat or anything these boys have given you. We're making another album and I already have the perfect name for it, too.”

“What's that?”

“Captain Shelley's Gallery. After you and your artistry.”

“Oh, Zelda!” Sam threw her arms around her once more.

“And we got a gift for you, too,” Chuck joined in, “I'm sure Alex gave you a hint to it on the way over, too.”

“He did!” Sam declared.

“You girls are standing in for Mr. Producer right now,” Alex himself said as he raised a finger. He took off his jacket and he strode into the sound room as if he owned it himself. Sam and Zelda watched him walk over to his guitar, propped up on a metallic stand; he picked it up and slung it over his shoulder, and waved his black hair about a bit. That tuft of gray was obvious at that point.

Louie took his seat behind the drum kit and Chuck lingered over to the side.

“Alright, gentlemen,” Zelda announced through the microphone, “unleash hell.”

Eric and Alex both started it out with a big grinding introduction.

Louie's kick drum pounded through the wall right before her. Sam looked over at Zelda, who in turn flashed her a grin and nodded at her.

That riff, that groovy riff; it coaxed a shake from her hips a bit. In junction with Louie's drum beats, which felt akin to the hammer of a black smith, and it only added to the feeling. Zelda nodded her head along with it.

Sam thought about the night on Anthrax's tour wherein Alex had covered that Soundgarden song. His leads here wandered around and spiraled tightly into coils like that song straight out of Seattle.

Eric and Greg twinned one another: the latter of which played his bass such that it resembled to thunder. And then Chuck's vocals seared through that microphone's head.

Almost four years of straight touring and making music had made these boys tight and on point each and every time the next time over.

It had that hooky chorus, “so practice what you preach!” a phrase which Sam knew she would cling to for a thousand years.

He repeated it and Alex, Eric, and Greg both joined in on back up.

“Groovy, hard, and fast, and it gets stuck in your head, too!” Zelda exclaimed.

“Yeah, it does,” Sam said, “and I almost wanna like dance to it, too.”

At one point, Alex took a step forward with his little red guitar pressed to his body and he proceeded on his solo. Sam and Zelda watched him in complete awe as it felt as though he painted his first real masterpiece upon the proverbial canvas. Even through the sound proof door, he was able to make the floor shake with his bending of those strings.

This was not the hole in the wall and this was not the first time Sam watched Anthrax.

This was beyond that.

Eric gave his inky black hair a toss back as he joined in with Alex again for a few more seconds. Louie tapped on the kick drum a bit and Alex improvised along with him.

“He's—He's unreal,” Sam said to Zelda.

“Who, Alex?”

“Yeah. Well, Louie is, too, but Alex is from somewhere else.”

“He's a true artist,” Zelda said, “kind of like how you are.”

Sam stayed silent at that. She didn't really believe that was on the level of true artistry as of yet, but she knew it still resided within her. She knew that her own masterpiece, her own “Practice What You Preach”, stayed within her for the time being.

They jammed out some more songs, all the way to the end of the afternoon, to which Chuck sang himself hoarse and Louie had finally broken out a sweat. Chuck himself walked over to the door and unlocked it for them, and Sam and Zelda met up with him there.

“Oh my god!” he yelped in a broken voice.

“Dude, that first song is going to be huge,” Sam told him.

“Dude! Don't call me 'dude'. Anyways, I think you're gonna be right, li'l Sammich.” He turned to Zelda. “Care for a drink?”

“Please!” Zelda doubled back to the hooks on the wall and the miniature fridge on the floor there. She took out a pair of beer bottles, one for herself and one for Chuck; once she handed the one to him, she turned to Sam.

“Care for one?”

“Let's share one,” Sam told her, which made the boys laugh out loud. Chuck doubled back into the room and opened the bottle.

“Drink up, Alejandro,” he commanded.

“Chuck—Chuck, no.”

“C'mon, a little sip of beer won't kill ya,” he coaxed him. Sam bowed into the doorway there and she watched Alex take a whiff from the bottle's mouth first before he took a sip. He shrugged his shoulders and handed it back to Chuck himself.

“Not bad,” he confessed, “rather have a glass.” The phone on the control panel rang right then and Zelda bowed away to answer it.

“You guys really are like Metallica's honor student kid brothers,” Sam told them with a little laugh, which in turn brought a laugh out of Chuck.

“Metallica's honor student kid brothers,” Louie echoed that, and he laughed himself.

“And I guess Anthrax showed up right behind us to put the 'kick me' sign on our backs,” Alex cracked with a gesture to his own back.

“Then Megadeth came to talk us into the ground during debate class,” Greg added.

“And Slayer showed up, just to give the five of us all a swift kick in the ass!” Chuck rounded out and the six of them laughed out loud at that.

Zelda cleared her throat right behind her.

“Hey—Hey, Miss Frankenstein!” she said right into Sam's ear, which in turn brought more laughter. “Your little monster is on the other end.”

Even though she had nothing to drink right then, she was already feeling giddy. Zelda handed her the phone, the receiver of which she brought over from the body itself. Sam lingered there in the doorway with it up to her ear.

“Hello?”

“Sam?” She recognized that upstate accent.

“Oh, hi, Joey!” She smiled at the sound of his voice.

“Sam—Sam—you're—you're not gonna believe this,” he could hardly speak. The tremble in his voice made her stop right in her tracks. Indeed, he almost sounded sick.

“What happened?” she asked him, slightly concerned.

He fetched up a sigh, albeit one that shuddered a bit. He gasped and whimpered the lightest of whimpers and she wondered what was going on with him. Louie said something and Greg burst out laughing right then; thus, she cupped a hand over her ear so she could hear him.

“Joey,” she started in a low voice, “—what happened?”

He sighed again.

“I got fired,” he said in a small voice.

“What,” she stammered, “what! What the—fuck, what do you mean you got fired?”

Someone shushed the people in the rest of the room, and the room fell silent behind her.

“I got fired,” he repeated, and he brought his voice to a near whisper. “I just got off the phone with Charlie. He said—they all got into a meeting together and just decided to rid of me. If it's any fairness to him, though, I—I could tell he had a hard time doing it.”

She brought a hand to her mouth to keep herself from crying herself or from vomiting. He gasped again and she could tell that he was crying.

“Oh,” she breathed into the mouthpiece, “oh my god, Joey, I'm so sorry.”

“I'm just,” he stammered, “—I'm just—gonna—go to sleep now.”

“Oh my god, Joey. Sit tight, I'll be right there.” She hurried back to the sound board to the phone's body.

“Sam?” he stopped her in a broken voice.

“Yes?”

“I love you,” he declared.

“I love you, too.” She hung up right there, and she closed her eyes and let out a low whistle, and then she returned to the room, and Zelda and Testament, all of whom looked on at her, stunned.

“What happened?” Chuck asked her, concerned.

“Joey got fired,” she told him in a soft voice, and Alex gaped at her. Chuck raised his eyebrows at that, flabbergasted.

��What,” Louie flatly said.

“When did this happen?” Eric asked her.

“I guess just now? He said he just got off the phone with Charlie—which tells me he's home now—and they all had a meeting without him, and they decided to get rid of him.” Sam paused for a moment. “He also said that Charlie had a hard time telling him about it, too.”

Alex and Chuck looked on at one another with stunned looks on their faces.

“What the fuck,” was all Zelda could say.

“They were doing good, too!” Eric declared.

“They were doing excellent,” Sam continued. “Last month, he told me State of Euphoria went gold.”

“Already?” Alex raised his eyebrows at that.

“Yeah. So it just—that doesn't make any sense. And I promised him I'd be right there with him, which means I have to—I have to fly home to New York.”

“Well, it's five o'clock—we're done for the day,” Greg told her as he clutched his bass by the neck, “we'll take you to the airport.”

“I'll come with you,” Alex told her.

“Yeah, me, too,” Chuck added.

“No, guys, that's not necessary,” Sam told them off.

“Samantha, your boyfriend just got fired,” Alex pointed out, “he's going to need all the support he can get.”

“What he said,” Chuck added.

“I'll come, too,” Zelda joined in, “I'm going back home after this, anyways.”

Sam nodded her head and, once they had closed up shop for the day, Eric and Greg drove them all back to the airport. She had no idea as to what to say to Joey once they were back in upstate. But she knew that she would have a little talk with Scott and Charlie at some point.

Eric and Greg walked them throughout the airport and all the way to where the next red eye would take her, Chuck, Alex, and Zelda over to Syracuse.

“Are you guys going to be alright?” she asked them.

“Oh, yeah,” Eric assured her as he put his arms around her.

“I'll call you when we get there,” she promised him.

“Aw, thank you so much for that.” And he gave her another hug for that.

She would have to give all the hugs in the world from that point onward for Joey.

#fanfic #fanfiction #anthrax fanfic #testament fanfic #testament #testament band #anthrax #chapter 20 #souls of black #fever in fever out #fever in fever out fanfic #book four #alex skolnick #chuck billy #eric peterson #greg christian #louie clemente #joey belladonna #joey belladonna x oc #oc tag #also on ao3 #also on wattpad #writing #text

[offbrandmercyplates]

An OBMP Holiday Fanfic Special

Me: I should do a thing, get back in the writing spirit and all that.

Time of Year: *Is a holiday*

Me: I think I know what I’m going to do today.

So, yep! It’s a OBMP fanfic holiday special! WHOOOP! This thing actually went through a few different versions before I finally settled on one. There were some weird versions, which reminds me: what would happen if you tried to bake cookies without proper ingredients? One of the versions involved trying to make chocolate chip cookies with powdered milk, egg protein, and no baking soda. I have no idea what would happen if you actually tried that. I can only assume the worst. Also, there was a salt rock. And an elaborate traipsing through the halls and down the stairs. Not the best setup.

Anyway, this one should be much better! Please enjoy!

…

Messy Gyftmas!

Emmibee’s cozy cocoon of warmth and hazy sleep was viciously torn open by a muffled buzzing sound. She quickly scrambled to shut off the old alarm clock she had buried in clothes and towels on her side table. She flopped back onto the bed. Just a few more seconds… a few more seconds…

…Kind of weird that Dr. Gaster hadn’t come into her bedroom to see what the alarm was about.

…Dr. Gaster?

Emmi snapped upright. That’s right; Dr. Gaster was taking his once-a-week night off and actually sleeping! (It was very, very slow progress in getting him to sleep more properly, but progress all the same.) She quickly threw off the covers and slipped on the fuzzy pink socks she had managed to find at the Snowdin Shop recently. She tiptoed out of her bed room and past Gaster’s room.

She was halfway down the stairs when she heard a gravelly snore that made her freeze. She turned towards the couch and spotted the skeleton doctor sprawled across the couch, glasses askew and a bunch of papers over his torso and lap. It seemed that he had fallen asleep while working instead of sleeping in his room like they agreed.

She shook her head. That stubborn old man…

Well, he was actually asleep, so that was good enough for today.

Emmi stepped into the kitchen and reached into the fridge. She had been meaning to ask why exactly Dr. Gaster kept so many bags of Popato Chisps in the fridge, of all places, but they hid Emmi’s personal purchases more than adequately, so it didn’t matter right now.

She retrieved the frozen waffles, bagels, and the two different kinds of spreads, and set them on the countertop. Two waffles were popped into the toaster, a few bagels were cut in half put in the oven to warm, and the two spreads— plain and strawberry flavored cream cheese— were opened and set out to soften a bit.

Emmi grinned and clapped her hands together quietly. A nice, warm, sort of-nutritious breakfast would hopefully give the doctor a reason to have more regular sleep schedule.

She pulled a large plate out of the cupboard and began to tastefully arrange the food (ha, puns). It was a shame she couldn’t find any maple syrup to put on the waffles, but maybe Gaster would appreciate being able to hold them in his hands and bite them like cookies. Once the plate was arranged to her taste (somebody stop her; she’s having a pun-derful morning!), she picked it up and began to carry it over to the coffee table by the couch.

At least, that’s what she intended to do, before a crunchy *thump* sounded from outside the house, followed by a strange, almost annoyed-sounding lowing. Emmi set the plate down and peeked out the window.

The snow wasn’t glittering with the warm, orange lights of the buildings in town, which meant that by all standards, it was still nighttime. Still, Emmi’s eyes quickly adjusted to see a strange, four-legged creature stumbling around in front of the house. Perhaps a fellow monster needed help?

She stuffed her snow boots on over her socks and grabbed her heavy coat. She opened the door to the house and stepped into the cold.

It was snowing, as it did every night in Snowdin. Emmi realized that the monster wasn’t stumbling; rather, it seemed to be bucking like a horse, a donkey, or a deer. The crunchy *thump* from earlier was likely caused by them tripping and smacking into a snowbank outside the house. They lowed again, more loudly, and shook their antlers. The movements were accompanied by tinkling bells, rustling paper, and other sounds.

A Gyftrot, Emmi realized with a quiet gasp. She had not yet met this particular monster, but the distressed noises it made were probably because of the decorations adorning it.“Hello?” Emmi called. Gyftrot snapped their attention to her, and she flinched.

Even when playing Undertale in her old life, Gyftrot was a funny looking creature. In person, though, they were almost terrifying. Their big, gaping eyes seemed both sunken and laser focused, and their sideways mouth steamed in angry sounding puffs and clicking teeth. They towered over her, their antlers almost doubling their height. They growled and backed away, dragging their hooves in the snow.

“W-wait!” She called. “I promise I’m not a child! I’m a perfectly grown-up adult!”

Gyftrot paused, then tilted their head in a way that seemed to say, “Oh, are you, now?”

“I am!” Emmi insisted. “Look, I’m not wearing a striped shirt.” She opened her coat enough to show off her pastel-colored nightgown, then closed it quickly. She was not built for cold weather.

Gyftrot rolled their eyes and huffed out another cloud of steam. “Okay, fine,” they seemed to be saying. “Now what?”

“You look like you could use some help. Would it be okay if I undecorated you? I’ll be careful, I promise.”

Gyftrot squinted at her for a good few seconds before folding their legs and resting in the snow, their antlers more at Emmi’s level.

“Thank you,” Emmi bowed politely and approached them. The tinkling bell sounds came from some thin plastic balls smacking together, looped over the prongs of Gyftrot’s antlers. The rustling paper was, in actuality, several strands of threadbare garland strands, wrapped around their neck and, again, their antlers. Following these were some of the strangest items Emmi could imagine: multiple stockings, tiny walking canes, boxes of raisins, a few car fresheners, and for some reason, a small, very confused dog. Emmi could have sworn the dog gave her a knowing wink before bounding into the forrest.

She looked over her handiwork and nodded. “Everything looks good.”

Gyftrot rose back to their hooves, and Emmi gave them some space. “Thank you, Miss,” they said in a deep voice. “I was asleep on the edge of the forest for the night, and when I awoke, I was covered in all manner of trinkets and nonsense. No doubt the work of some young punks. Oh, and pardon me for thinking you one of those children. You have a youthful demeanor about you, and you are very short.”

“Hey!” Emmi laughed with mock indignation. Gyftrot snorted a few times, a mischievous gleam in their eyes. Then their gaze dropped, and they went quiet. “Something wrong?” Emmi asked.

“It’s a bit silly, but… after all of that, I’m a bit hungry.”

Emmi thought for a second. “Well, I was making some breakfast for a friend when I heard you out here… Would you like me to bring you some?”

Gyftrot’s ears flattened a bit. “Well, I’d hate to take the meal you made for your friend…”

“No worries! I can make more. Wait right here; I’ll bring you a plate.” Before they could protest, Emmi sped-walked into the house, grabbed the plate of food, and brought it outside. “Here we are! Waffles and bagels. Do you like cream cheese—?”

As soon as Gyftrot spotted the plate, their eyes grew as big as saucers and they stuck their snout into the food. They were an enthusiastic and sloppy eater, but Emmi was too distracted by watching the way their jaws worked to notice the bits of cream cheese and crumbs spilling onto the front of her coat.

They grinned at her when they finished; a grin that, without context, would have seemed almost sinister. Emmi knew it was a smile of satisfaction. “Thank you again, Miss. Perhaps we’ll meet again, at a better time of the day. Good night.” Gyftrot trotted out of sight.

Emmi watched them go. Her socks were starting to become soaked through her boots, but the warmth in her SOUL distracted her from the cold.

The snow began to glitter orange in certain spots around her. “Emmibee?” She looked up to see a tired Gaster standing in the still open doorway of the house. Oops. “Why is the door open at this hour? You hate being cold.”

He stepped into the snow, not bothered by the weather, and stood over Emmi, looking her up and down with an analytical curiosity. She turned to face him, grinning just a little deliriously. Maybe she should have gone to bed earlier instead of reading all night…

“…What are you wearing?” Dr. Gaster asked.

She looked down at herself, seeing the crumbs and cream cheese smears from Gyftrot’s early breakfast, as well as a few of the decorations she had removed from Gyftrot’s person. Somehow, the garland had wrapped around her shoulders, a tiny walking cane hung around each of her ears like strange headphones, and a few stockings hung from the buttons on her coat. She blinked for a moment. Then, she smiled up at her housemate. “I’m the messiest Gyftmas tree. Hohoho, heeheehee.”

Gaster squinted at her, his bone brow furrowed as he tried to comprehend what she just said. “…You’re a very strange woman,” he finally stated.

“Actually, if you recall, I said I’m—”

“Yes, I heard you the first time. You are the messiest Gyftmas tree.”

“You have to say ‘hohoho, heeheehee’ after that part.”

“No.”

“Phooey.”

“Will you explain why you’re outside at this hour now?”

“After we go inside. I’ll make more breakfast.”

In the time it took Emmibee to remake Gaster’s breakfast plate and tell her story, she was barely standing on her feet. Before she could fall over, Gaster guided her to his spot on the couch, removed her coat, boots, and decorations, and tossed his lab coat over her sleeping form, since it was the closest thing to a blanket within arm’s reach.

He found himself glancing at her repeatedly and he ate the breakfast she made. Her curly brown hair was frizzy and tangled from the snowy winds, and her round little face was pink from the warmth of the house. It filled him with… nondescript contentment. It definitely didn’t make him feel nice. Most certainly not. Definitely not.

…So what other word could he use to explain these feelings?

…

A strange and messy Gyftmas, but satisfying all the same, I hope.

Gyftrot showing was one of the first things that came to mind for this story. Who could be more perfect for a holiday special? And, one of my favorite parts: it shows off Emmi’s integrity. Even a scary looking fellow like Gyftrot deserves a good breakfast and not being covered in weird decorations. (Seriously, though; look at Gyftrot’s battle sprite and tell me that wouldn’t be a little spooky in real life.)

There were some little tidbits in some of the earlier drafts that didn’t make it into the final story, like Emmibee spending her evenings in bed reading by candlelight, the exact spots that don’t squeak on the stairs, and little things like that. Now that I think about it, I don’t know if flashlights would be prevalent in the Underground, or if they’re a more limited resource. It can’t be that easy to find fresh batteries in the dump heap, but maybe the Underground is able to make batteries with the materials it has. For some reason, my mind was in a kind of archaic rut, so I think I imagined the Underground having more limited resources than it probably does; hence the earlier draft with the powdered milk cookies.

Gaster: What is this feeling? It couldn’t be… the warm fuzzies!? No! I’m too sophisticated and cool to have the warm fuzzies!

It has been said before, by many different sources, and it shall be said again: Emmibee is a smol.

Also, the “messiest Gyftmas tree” is a reference to the song “The Happiest Christmas Tree.” It’s… interesting.

Okay, I think that covers all the extra bits. With Ms. Emmibee’s permission, I’ll be posting this to my fanfiction and AO3 accounts at a later date. I hope everyone had a happy holiday! Let’s hope next year’s just a little bit better. Until then!

~~~

THE WARM FUZZIES!!

Apologies for posting this so late, but I truly truly appreciate and adore this fic. Gyftrot is one of the most interesting monsters, I think, and Emmi’s interaction with it is SO pure????? This is wonderful and I love it and THANK YOU!!!!

Please post it to FF and AO3 at your leisure!! 

#OBMPfanfic #yours the author #submission #i usually try to comment more on these but im so exhausted #i read it when it was first submitted and it really cheered me up at a tumultuous time #so thank you for that

[clumsyclifford]

prompt: alex says goodnight to the horses and when he gets back inside jack has tea waiting for him made perfectly

you know i really didnt think i would write this tonight but then i did

ao3 link!

-

It’s getting chilly out, but damn it, that is not going to stop Alex. His horses are his best friends. They deserve goodnight wishes as much as anyone else. Sometimes he likes them more than his actual best friends, if only because they won’t ever tell him to stop talking about the possibility of life on another planet or eat the last Oreo but put the empty package back in the tour bus cabinet because they thought it’d be a funny prank. (Rian.) 

Horses aren’t super chatty, sure, but at least they’re not assholes.

“Hey, gorgeous,” he says, smiling as he walks up to the stables, where he can see Theo and Beaux. Their eyes are still open but they’ll be asleep soon. They’re like old people in that way; always asleep before nine o’clock, these guys. “Hi, beautiful. Hi, you guys. Hey.” 

They say nothing, predictably, so Alex walks first up to Beaux. “Goodnight, honey,” he says, tenderly kissing the bridge of his nose. He doesn’t smell great. Maybe tomorrow they should wash the horses. Or maybe on Monday. Alex isn’t sure he’ll feel like doing it tomorrow, though he knows it has to be done regardless. “Sleep well. Dream of carrots. Dream of…of winning a horse race. Not that I’d ever make you race. I’m not a monster.”

Beaux doesn’t answer, just snuffles loudly. Alex laughs. “I wouldn’t! I swear. Anyway, you wouldn’t last a minute in a real horse race, you lazy fucker.” He pats Beaux’s nose affectionately, strokes it once more. “Alright. Goodnight. I’ll see you in the morning.”

A few steps leads him to Theo’s stable, where Theo has been watching him patiently until Alex reaches him. “Hey,” Alex says softly. “You look tired, man. Long day? Hey, why the long face?” He chuckles to himself. “That’s not even a funny joke. I think I’m getting old, Theo. I’m way too much of a dad for someone without kids.” Although he’s not really childless, is he? He’s got all these animals to take care of, and surely that’s the same thing. Or at least similar. Someone’s got to have done a psychological study on the effects of having pets instead of kids. They can’t be that different. After all, Alex is here tucking them in. That’s pretty fatherly.

Theo nudges at Alex shoulder. “Okay, shit,” Alex says, smiling. “I’m getting to it.” He pauses for effect. “Goodnight, Theo.” Rubbing a hand affectionately over Theo’s nose, he adds, “Dream of beating Beaux in a horse race.”

Theo also snuffles. Maybe, Alex muses, it’s the horse way of saying goodnight. Though they kind of do it all the time, so maybe not. Alex should look into that. After he looks into the whole pets-as-kids thing. His to-Google list is growing by the minute. 

His hands are also getting cold, so he quickly kisses Theo’s nose and pats his cheek. “Sleep well. Sweet dreams. Love you both. See you in the morning.” And he backs away, rubbing his palms together.

The farm might look eerie at night to a stranger, but to Alex it’s familiar enough not to scare him anymore. Now it feels almost like a summer camp, and Alex feels like a rogue camper out of bed past quiet hours. The world is his oyster. Maybe one night they ought to take some blankets out and stargaze. Glancing up, Alex can see a smattering of stars overhead, and for a moment he’s distracted and slows to a stop just to stare.

The stars are so beautiful out here. The sky is so pretty. Alex dedicates a lot of brainpower towards thinking about the galaxy — probably more than is healthy — but when he’d been living in L.A. it had always been something of a distant train of thought, because there’s so much light pollution in L.A. that the stars are more fantasy than reality.

Here, though, in rural Maryland, a fair distance away from civilization, the stars overhead had been what had sealed the deal for Alex, when they’d been thinking about whether or not they ought to buy a farm. And now, head tilted far back to gaze up into the sky, Alex thinks they made the right choice.

Fuck, it’s pretty out here. The universe is capable of creating such lovely things.

When it’s been long enough, Alex shakes himself out of his reverie. The cold is seeping into his skin everywhere it’s exposed to air, and his hands are starting to feel more like ice blocks attached to the ends of his arms. He tucks them under his armpits and continues his trek to the house.

“Back,” he calls out as he enters through the front door. It’s nice and warm inside, but Alex’s hands are still really fucking cold, so he puts them back under his arms as he nudges the door shut with his hip.

“How did it go? Have they said goodnight back yet?”

“Not yet,” Alex says, following the voice to the kitchen, “but any day now. I can feel it.” He pauses. “Whatcha doin’?”

Jack looks up at him, but he doesn’t stop stirring the mug. “Making tea,” he says. “What’s it look like?”

Alex blinks. “Making tea?”

“Yeah,” Jack says. “For you.”

“For me?”

“Well, I don’t like tea,” Jack says, which is patently untrue, but whatever. “Yeah. It’s kinda cold out, and you always make yourself tea after you get back from saying goodnight to the horses, so I thought I’d kinda, you know, cut out the middleman or — whatever, the point is I made your tea for you so you wouldn’t have to.”

Alex steps towards Jack, who pushes the mug across the island towards him. There’s steam rising off the top, and the color looks right, but honestly Alex hadn’t realized Jack ever paid attention when Alex made tea. “What…is in this?”

Jack raises his eyebrows. “Cocaine and dog food. What the fuck do you think, it’s tea. Milk and sugar. How you like it.”

Alex feels a fond smile cross his face. “This is so cute,” he says, reaching for the tea and wrapping his hands around the mug. It’s too hot and he has to pull his hands away after a couple seconds, but he can’t stop smiling. “You made my tea.”

“Yeah,” Jack says. He looks pleased. “Well, I hope I didn’t fuck it up. You should probably try it before you tell me it’s cute.”

“I didn’t say it was good, I said it was cute,” Alex says. “Which it is.” He abandons the tea for a moment in favor of approaching Jack, who’s cozy in an orange hoodie and black sweats, hair mussed up from the day. Still, in his dressed-down state, Alex has never seen anything more beautiful than Jack.

He brings his hands up to press against Jack’s cheeks. Jack jerks. “Fuck, your hands are freezing!”

“It’s cold outside,” Alex says, smiling still. He doesn’t move his hands away and Jack doesn’t make any effort to. “I love you.”

“It’s just tea,” Jack says quietly.

Alex kisses him. Jack’s lips are warm on Alex’s cold ones, but it’s nice — almost like Jack can reset Alex’s internal temperature, like the very act of their being together is enough to achieve perfect equilibrium. Kissing Jack might not be a cure-all, but it absolutely is a cure-most, and Alex cashes in whenever he can possibly find a reason to, and frequently even when he can’t.

And Jack’s made Alex’s tea. Jack has made himself a part of one of Alex’s favorite nighttime rituals. Alex is so in love he doesn’t have the words.

“Thank you for the tea,” he whispers, stealing one more kiss before stepping away and picking up the mug. Jack has a silly smile on his face that he’s trying his best to hide. Alex waits a moment, blows away the steam over the mug, then lifts it to his lips and takes a careful sip.

It tastes just right, and somehow Alex is both surprised and not. Sure, Jack keeps him company every evening while he puts together his nightly tea, but Alex never expected Jack to be paying attention. It’s just tea, like Jack had said. Not the kind of detail boyfriends are necessarily supposed to remember about each other.

On the other hand, though, Alex is the luckiest man alive to have Jack, and Jack is constantly surprising him. And Jack is much better at proving his love than saying it, so of course he remembers how Alex takes his tea. Of course he would make it.

“I poisoned it, by the way,” Jack says, just as Alex swallows. 

Alex laughs. “Well, it’s not affecting the taste at all. It tastes amazing.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, Jack. Literally perfect. You got it exactly right. This might be the best cup of tea I’ve ever had.”

“Okay, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

It is the best cup of tea Alex has ever had, actually. Not because it tastes good — sure, it tastes good, but after a certain point a good cup of tea is just a good cup of tea — but because Jack had made it. Obviously that’s too cheesy to say, so Alex just thinks it really hard, figuring Jack will probably get it anyway from his face.

Jack slides in his socks over to Alex’s side and wraps his arms around Alex’s waist. His chin digs into Alex’s shoulder. “Lemme taste.”

Alex sighs, grins. He lifts the mug up, trying to glance down to see where Jack’s mouth kind of is, and when he’s pretty sure it’s in the right place he carefully tilts it. Against all odds, nothing spills. Jack takes a sip, and Alex brings the mug close to his chest again.

“It’s actually pretty good,” says Jack. “Maybe I should have made myself a cup too.”

“You can share mine.”

Jack hums. He squeezes Alex’s middle, pressing himself flush against Alex’s back, even closer than he’d been. “That’s okay. I’m good right here.”

“Don’t wanna sit down or something?”

“Can’t hug you if we’re sitting.”

“That is true,” Alex concedes. “But I can look at you, which I would love to do.”

Jack scoffs. “I’m nothing to look at, babe. I’m literally in sweats.”

Nobody in the world has ever made sweats look as good as Jack does, is the thing. “I know,” Alex says. “But I just like looking at you. Don’t call me cheesy. I already know you’re going to, so stop it.”

“That’s just cheesy as fuck,” Jack says anyway, kissing Alex’s cheek. “You’re gonna get cheese in your tea.”

“That’s so gross, can you imagine tea with cheese?”

“I bet that’s a thing. In Asia or something. They make some weird shit over there.”

Alex chuckles. “Maybe.” He sets the mug down on the island and turns around in Jack’s arms, and Jack doesn’t protests, though he also doesn’t move his arms away, and they remain encircling Alex’s waist, linked behind his back. Alex brushes his palms over Jack’s shoulders, smoothing the fabric of his hoodie, and curls his fingers around Jack’s neck, which is warm like the rest of him. “You’re a good-looking guy, you know that?”

“I do know that,” Jack says, smiling so so softly. He doesn’t smile like that for just anyone, Alex knows; it’s a special Jack smile, only for Alex. “You’re a pretty handsome boy yourself.”

Alex kisses him again, just for the hell of it. Because he can. Because he’s got Jack in his arms, prettier than any other fucking thing; because Jack’s his boyfriend and that means Alex gets to kiss him whenever; because he loves Jack, is in love with Jack, and sometimes kissing him is the only way to adequately communicate that. 

They show love in different ways. Alex says it aloud, traces it into Jack’s skin, brands him with touches and kisses to remind him.

Jack makes Alex tea.

“Love you,” he murmurs again, though he’s already said it. Jack could call him on it, but instead he does that rare Jack smile again.

“Love you more,” he breathes, before capturing Alex’s mouth with his own.

The universe truly is capable of creating such lovely things. And if a sky full of stars is a home run, then Jack Barakat is a grand fucking slam. 

#jack barakat #alex gaskarth #jalex #jalex fic #all time low #atl fic #fic #my fic #my hands smell like onions and carrots #not a lot but definitely enough that #every time i bring them to my face i can smell it #and it's making me kinda hungry not gonna lie #however it is 4:30am #so i need to go to sleep #thank you meghna this is as fluffy as it gets <3 #reveriesofawriter #ask #answered

[staruplatinum]

Wicked Game, part II

Everyone wanted a sequel to wicked game, the story I wrote for @moody-bloosh​ in which Prosciutto cheats on the reader. That story was all angst and this one is all smut.

so, enjoy 3,240 words of the reader having revenge sex with Risotto, filming it and sending the video to prosciutto ;-)

warnings: angst, slow burn, smut, creampie, gaping, dirty talk, rough sex, squirting

The hardest part was trying to survive the next few weeks. Only a week had passed, but in that time, your (now)ex-fiancee had already packed up his things and left to go live with Formaggio. Pesci had come by to apologize, and also ask for reassurance.

 “I’m still your friend, right!?”

“Yes, Pesci.”

You felt like your whole world was falling apart, and at an extremely fast rate. The sharp pains in your chest, hyperventilating, the tears - mixed with being completely numb -  it almost felt like too much to bear. It was almost as if someone had told you Prosciutto was dead - funny enough, you wished he was after putting you through this. 5 years of dating and 6 months of being engaged lead to this. He threw it all away, and you could never forgive him.

As you walked  back to your apartment one night, you slammed the door shut and made sure to lock it behind you. 

Nighttime was the hardest. The darkness always made you contemplate everything, and you hated it. For what felt like the millionth time this week, your eyes started watering once again.

How could he do this to me? I thought he loved me..

Your thoughts were interrupted, however, when you heard a dreaded knock at the door. Instantly, your body froze. You hesitated a moment, before checking through the eye-hole to see who it was. To your surprise, it was your capo: Risotto Nero. He hadn’t visited you yet since the rest of the gang had “found out”.

You sucked in a deep breath as you undid the chain lock from the door and let him in slowly. 

What an odd coincidence.

“Risotto I-” you paused, sniffling and using the sleeves of your house coat to rub the dripping mascara from your eyes. “What brings you here at this hour?” You tried to hide the fact that you had been crying. 

He shut the door behind himself quietly and spoke.

“I was using metallica to hide from the public, and I saw you crying on the way home.” He said bluntly. 

“Oh.”

“I followed you back here, to make sure you got in safe. But I assumed something may have happened. I wanted to check in with you to make sure Prosciutto was with you.” your Capo added.

You let out a big sigh and soft chuckle of sarcasm.

“Yeah? Well, he won’t be here with me. Not ever.” 

You wiped under your eyes, trying to hide the fact that you had been crying - though it was painfully obvious. 

Confused, Risotto slightly cocked his eyebrow, unsure of what you meant. Then you realized that he didn’t know what had happened..you smiled, and gently patted his arm.

“He cheated on me, Ris. and from what I found out, this wasn’t the first time either..” You began to say, feeling your tears start to water in your eyes. You looked down, trying to conceal it. “He’s been cheating on me for months. He just wants me as a housewife, meanwhile he fucks other whores every weekend. I keep thinking over and over - is it me? Am I ugly? Am I bad at sex?.. I guess I really was never enough for him.” And just like that, your tears spilt once again. So much for hiding your tears. 

Risotto took off his shoes, hat, and coat before he pulled you in for a hug. Most people would frown upon this - you hugging your Capo, but you had known him long before Prosciutto, and he had loved you long before that. 

You spent a few moments of silence in his arms, crying away your pain. It was weird, but Risotto’s hugs always felt like heaven. They were so fulfilling and calm, it truly felt like nothing bad had happened to you! Or maybe that was the serotonin talking…

After a few moments, you pulled away. “Im sorry, I-I don’t mean to cry on you I’m just so-”

“Shh.” Risotto said, pressing a finger to your lips to silence you. “You don’t have to explain, y/n. If Prosciutto wasn’t one of my most valued men, I would kill him for you. You know that.” 

Small hiccups left your mouth as you nodded, acknowledging his soft - but deadly - words as he cupped your cheeks, gently caressing them with his thumbs.

“How about I make us both some tea and we talk about it, Bella.” 

You smiled through your tears, leaning into his large palm. 

“I would love that.”

-

Risotto was familiar with your kitchen. He came here many times for meetings with you and Prosciutto. Some occasions, it was almost like a second home to him. After preparing you both a hot cup of chamomile tea, he brought it over to the coffee table and sat with you. Despite your efforts to not stare him down, it was nearly impossible to do considering his massive chest, tattooed biceps and toned torso were right next to you. 

Risotto smirked.

“See something you like?”

You blushed at his words. 

“Maybe.” 

It was a weird and awkward silence between you both. On one hand - you were beyond livid with your ex-fiancee, and you wanted nothing more than to get revenge on him. But at the same time, being this close to Risotto and having him be there for you, listening to you - it was a whole other soft feeling in your body that you couldn’t describe. Prosciutto never listened to you.

“I’m sorry he cheated on you, Tesoro. You didn’t deserve that.” Your Capo said, breaking the silence and taking a drink of the tea.

“I don’t know, Risotto. I feel like nobody will ever love me.” 

Your words hurt risotto to hear. He had known you for so long. You were beautiful, and the fact that Prosciutto made you feel anything lower than that really aggravated him. And knowing Risotto, nothing ever really made him upset - he is usually kept his cool. 

“That’s not true.”

Risotto grabbed you gently and pulled you in for a hug, inhaling  the scent of your soft hair as you laid on his chest, snuggling into his warmth. His large hand caressed your back, gently rubbing you in a comforting manner. Being with him like this caused shivers to go down your spine.He always knew what to say, and how to make you feel so good.

Then it hit you.

“Can you cuddle me in my bed, Capo?” You asked teasingly, though there was a hint of innocence in your voice. “What the hell are you doing?!” you thought to yourself while smirking. he was being so tempting. It was so perfect, laying on him like this. But at the same time, you genuinely wanted to cuddle with him. After not sleeping right for over a week, it would have been so comforting to fall asleep in his warm, safe arms. But deep down, both you and Risotto knew where this was going.

Placing your teacups down (on the coasters that Prosciutto always insisted you use-) you grabbed Risottos hand gently and guided him to your bedroom. 

A perk to living with Prosciutto was that the house was always clean, and your bedroom was no exception. It was probably one of the only things you admire about your ex-fiance, the fact that he was so clean. Your entire apartment was extremely minimalistic - something that instantly caught Risotto’s attention every time he had come to visit in the past. But now, with Prosciutto’s things gone, it had a different kind of emptiness to it. One that Risotto wanted to fill, and make a “home” out of. 

“Do you have a camera, tesorina?” he asked, keeping a straight face, while he tried to focus on his newfound idea.

“Yeah, why?”

“Go get it for me.” 

You nodded, following his orders and pulling the Camera out from the box in the closet. 

“I don’t understand why you need the camera - “ 

“Well, I can’t kill Prosciutto - no matter how badly I want to-  because he is like family to me, and he’s an amazing member of our squad. “

You crossed your arms and rolled your eyes. He was supposed to cuddle you and comfort you, not tell you how great your CHEATING ex fiance was. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing! 

“But I have a better way to get back at him.” Risotto said, looking over to you and slowly undoing his belt. Then, you understood. Your snarky attitude went away and you smiled.

“Oh yeah? What’s the plan then… Capo”

Risotto used his hand to pull you by the chin, grinning down at you. “How about your Capo fucks your tight little pussy, records it,  and sends the video to your ‘ex-beloved’”

His dark eyes stared down at your smaller form, trying to see what kind of reaction he’d get from this. Risotto wasn’t the type to do something if you didn’t want to. But what other idea could have helped you? You were all alone, not eating properly, not sleeping properly, meanwhile Prosciutto was off living what seemed to be a “good” life with his new hooker every night. Plus, Pesci so kindly took him in. (more like he had to because Prosciutto gu8ilt tripped him into it.)

The look on your face said it all. It was good. It was too good. This was the safest and easiest way to get back at Prosciutto. You bit your lip in anticipation. It was so wrong - to sleep with your capo. But you’d be a liar if you said you didn’t want him to destroy you. And, you really wanted to get back at Prosciutto. 

You smirked, passing him the camera and tripod, watching him set it up “perfectly” on the Vanity, which was right across from your queen sized bed. Risotto clicked the red button on the camera and before you knew it, you were both being filmed. 

“Take off your clothes. Now,”

That wasn't a question, it was an order. And boy, were you eager to obey.

As you tossed your clothes on the floor, you remained in just your lace panties and bra. 

“All of your clothes.”Risotto said, continuing to pull down his pants, leaving himself in his black boxers. You obeyed, unhooking your bra to expose your tits into the open. Your nipples instantly hardened from the cold air in the room. Your underwear came next, exposing your pussy and plump ass to your Capo. He smirked as You got down on your knees and looked up at him, fingers gently grazing across the massive bulge in his boxers. 

“So? Are you going to suck my cock or are you just going to sit there and look pretty?” Risotto asked, threading his fingers through your hair and scalp. 

Risotto wasn’t one for much dirty talk. You knew your capo as the stoic, intimidating man he was. And normally, he would never break that facade. However, finally having you like this at his mercy… it triggered something inside of him. He wanted to love you, yes. But he also wanted to wreck you and make sure that the camera got every moment of it. What better way to do that then to dirty talk you?

You nodded, biting your lip and looking at the camera - Shaking Risotto out of his thoughts once again.

“Of course, Signore.” 

Prosciutto used to beg you to call him that, so saying it directly to the camera was your subtle way to say : ‘Fuck You’, and proceed with the video. 

Risotto pulled out his big cock, completely hard and standing erect in the open. Your eyes lit up. He was so huge, how were you supposed to take all of him?

“What’s wrong, Tesorina? Too big for you?” 

You chuckled softly as he began to jerk himself off slowly. 

“Mhm. I don’t know how this will fit in my mouth, let alone my pussy .” You said, grabbing his shaft lightly with your fingers. He huffed at your statement, more or less from the anticipation of you touching him like this. As you stroked it a few times, you looked to the camera once again. “This is definitely an upgrade. Hah. and I thought 7 inches was a lot.” 

Ouch.

You both soon got over the awkwardness and shortly after you both were horny enough to do some regrettable things. You opened your mouth, having risotto place the head of his cock on your tongue, tapping it a few times before you eagerly took the head in. Your tongue swirled around it, trying your best to use your saliva to take more of him in, though, with your small mouth you knew that would be a challenge. 

Risottos hand gripped your hair tighter, urging you to take more than just the tip inside of your warm mouth, after all, you were going to want to make sure that both of you were properly ‘lubed’ up. 

“That’s good, cara” Risotto said, encouraging you to go deeper. You complied, taking in two more inches, your mouth salivating and stretching around his massive girth. Just like that, he was already hitting the back of your throat.

You giggled, looking up at him and batting your lashes as you pulled back a little - only to shove your face forward even more, taking half of his 10 inches in your mouth and down your throat.

“Fuck…” 

Risotto grunted. He was not the type of man to fall so easily. He wasn’t the type of man to give in, or even make many noises during sex. But you… you were breaking him and the two of you just barely started.

Risotto pulled his cock away from you abruptly, a trail of saliva connecting the top of his cock to your bottom lip, glistening in the low lamp light.

“Get on the bed.” Risotto said, breathing heavily. 

“You don’t have to ask twice.” You winked.

As you got up on the bed, you figured it would be best to just get in doggy style position directly. This seemed to impress Risotto, and he smiled at you. A dark smile - but still a smile nonetheless.

Risotto angled your ass so that it was facing the camera - exposing your asshole and slick pussy. He traced one of his calloused fingers along your slit, before abruptly shoving it inside. You moaned out in pleasure, catching his attention.

“That’s just a finger,” He stated.

You laughed, hiding your face in the pillow from embarrassment. 

“I know…” You added, too shy to look at him. 

He pulled your hair, forcing your head back as he added two more fingers inside of you, curling them downwards so he could hit your g-spot. 

“Oh fuck…” you breathed, sudenly overcome by the sensation of being at his mercy. 

“Keep making noise tesoro, I want to hear you scream for me.” 

All you could do was nod and moan, and before you knew it - your orgasm was approaching. 

“Ris- I-Im cumming!!” you shouted. Risotto chuckled darkly and pulled out at the last second, replacing his fingers with the head of his cock. 

His cock stretched your cunt out harshly, despite all the prep you had. Though you were disappointed about being denied your orgasm, you moaned into the pillow below you. You desperately tried to arch your back up so the camera got a good angle of risotto pressing a good portion of his 10inches inside you. It took you a few minutes to get used to his length, but risotto was a patient man. In fact, he waited almost 6 years to make you his, surely this would be an easy task. 

Risotto leaned down and whispered in your ear. 

“Take it all, Tesoro. We have a point to prove.” 

His words only turned you on further, and you moaned out his name. He smiled and leaned back up, making sure to prove a point. 

Risotto’s large hand came down on your ass, striking it hard. 

“Ugh- YOURE so - fucking tight.”

“Mmn. Only for you Signore”

“That’s right. This cunt belongs to me now.”

With the head of his large cock hitting your cervix with every thrust, you were sure you’d be bruised in the morning. 

“Do you like when your capo fucks you?” 

He was being mean, asking you things when you could barely form coherent sentences. 

He slapped your ass again.

“I asked you a question, Puttana.”

You swallowed your spit and nodded.

“Y-yes! Yes Signore. I love when you fuck me. No one can compare!”

That was just what Risotto needed to hear from you, and without waiting any further, he commanded you to cum for him.

“Cum for me tesorina, cum all over your Capo’s cock you filthy whore.”

And you did, your whole body shook, and you fell forward, moaning his name over and over as you squirt your juices all over the sheets, and all over your Capo.

Risotto followed soon after, Pressing his cock as deep as he could before cumming inside, shooting his load right at your cervix. 

After Risotto pulled out, he forced you to stay with your ass up in the air. He moved around so that his cock was by your head, and his hands were on your ass once again. You didn’t know what he was doing, but it became very apparent when he hooked two fingers (from each hand) inside your cunt. He spread you open wide, chuckling darkly as he watched your pussy gape, and watched his cum start to ooze out of you. 

“Look at you, Tesoro. You can’t even keep my load inside of you…” 

You were too spent to even say anything but moan. 

“Did I really stretch you out that much?”

That question was rhetorical. Though you couldn’t see what you looked like down there yourself, you could feel it. Risotto had a big girth to him, 6inches, to be exact, and as soon as he pulled out of you - slumped over and exhausted, you felt so empty. The camera was picking up everything as well, and when prosciutto saw this tape you were sure he’d be ruined by it. 

Risotto got up from the bed and grabbed the camera from the tripod, bringing it back over to you. He focused the lens on your cunt, which was still gaping and slowly dripping out his seed. He held your ass check with his hand, admiring his work, before zooming in.

“Do you like having my load inside of you?” 

“Mnm yes capo! You know how to fill me right up. ~” you purred. 

“Good, because you’re mine now” he hissed, slapping your ass once more and turning the camera off. 

-

A few days later, Prosciutto got a tape in the mail. He watched it, with the help of melone (he was too suspicious to ever watch a video alone) and what he saw.. Shattered him.

Melone found it interesting, but prosciutto ushered him out, cussing a slew of words in Italian. 

He needed… a moment. It seemed like smoking 10 packs of cigarettes wouldn't even be able to help him, and the worst part was - he couldn’t even kill risotto. He was his superior..

Prosciutto went to the same bar he always did that night, and picked up another hooker. As he fucked her, he couldn’t help but think of you, and everything he lost because of his selfishness. 

It really was over.

#prosciutto #prosciutto x reader #risotto nero #risotto nero x reader #jaehyun angst #smut #my writing #wicked game #not sfw ish??

[liketolaugh-writes]

Overworked Leather

Author: liketolaugh Summary: It’s three weeks after Markus recruited Connor to Jericho. Neither of them have second thoughts about this. (Both of them are uncertain of exactly how true that is.) Sequel to White Gloves.

Of the two Jericho bases, Markus had only given Connor the key to one.

That had been the main effect of Markus and Connor’s first disastrous encounter: Jericho had been cleaved in two, and it had been one of the best decisions Markus had made thus far. It allowed him to neatly separate the non-combatants, the children and the damaged and the frightened, from the androids who were willing and able to fight.

South Jericho, hidden even more meticulously than the first, was integrated into the abandoned Pirate’s Cove amusement park, where a number of Jerry androids made nighttime activity a regular and expected thing already; acting as a halfway point between East Jericho and Canada, it held the vulnerable and noncombatant androids.

East Jericho, a captured Cyberlife warehouse and the only base humans knew about these days, housed those willing and able to fight, gather supplies, form contacts and so on. It also drew fire from its more vulnerable sister base, and Markus intended to keep it that way.

Josh kept loyal watch over South Jericho, meticulously careful and attentive to the needs of all the androids that stayed there. North stayed in East, viciously protective and most comfortable when in control and well-informed; Markus spent most of his time in East and Simon in South, but both of them moved back and forth as necessary.

None of them were ever in the same place all at once. They couldn’t risk the revolution being wiped out in one fell swoop.

It had been three weeks since Connor’s arrival, and Markus was starting to consider letting him have the other key. He’d halved casualties in the first FBI raid he’d been present for, sniping from the roof and sending agents scurrying back to cover, and he hadn’t once made an aggressive move toward any of the other androids, and he hadn’t even attempted to leave, for alleged business purposes or otherwise.

And that day, when his replacement appeared, he’d taken off into the rain before the other could even break the fence line. He’d returned less than an hour later, subtly hunched and avoiding eye contact even more fervently than usual, blue blood spattered on his clothes.

Markus hadn’t had time to check on him, making his rounds among the shaken and the injured, setting up a hasty watch, and contact Josh about the incident before he finally made it back to the war room (a repurposed meeting room, already fit with hologram systems and blank surfaces and a large table to sit around) to talk to the others.

Connor was asleep at the table, head pillowed on his left arm and wet hair plastered to his forehead; he hadn’t even washed the blood off himself. Despite everything, despite the tension dragging at his chest and the fear at the base of his skull and the ache of his overstressed knees, Markus had to suppress a flicker of a smile.

Simon was already present as well, prim and proper with his eyes carefully averted from Connor and his gun resting on the table in front of him. The (human) blood Markus knew had been splashed across his arm and torso had been carefully washed away, his shirt still darker where it had been soaked and dark spots still making themselves known and his skin glistening with lingering damp. He nodded at Markus as he came in, looking skittish and faintly frustrated. Markus understood; two attacks in a month was quite bad for them, and it was probably due to Connor’s presence.

“They’ll have to give up on him soon,” Markus said in an undertone, deferring to Connor’s sleeping state; he wasn’t sure what it was, but Connor, when not working, spent an unusual amount of time in stasis. “All other circumstances still apply, after all; the humans will start to riot if they continue at this rate.”

Simon inclined his head wearily. “But can we hold out that long?” he pointed out, and then shook his head sharply. “Never mind. Not the point. Who was that? You said Connor believed his series would be decommissioned if he deviated.”

“It was,” Markus said without hesitation, mentally bringing up the flash of a memory: the android almost exactly like Connor, eerie only for the sharper angles of his face and the cold blue of his eyes. “I caught a glimpse of his jacket before he took off after Connor. RK900, not eight.”

Simon’s lips pressed together, and Markus nodded, knowing what he was thinking: that wasn’t a good thought, an upgrade from Connor.

He sat down by Simon with a heavy sigh, wincing at the shift of his knees and the spike of a headache he hadn’t even properly noticed yet. It seems humans had a loose definition of compatible parts, though that shouldn’t be a surprise – and it was better than no parts at all. Simon shot him a lingering glance, stiff with worry, but didn’t say anything.

“Thanks for coming to East,” Markus added, still soft and with a pointed glance at Connor. “What’s your opinion on Connor so far?” He trusted Simon’s ability to judge character even more than his own; while Markus was fast warming up to the man, who seemed so far to be just loyal and determined and a little bit lost, he was waiting for Simon’s call before he made any lasting decisions.

Well. Any more lasting decisions.

Simon exhaled, long and tired. “I don’t really know, Markus. I don’t think he does, either. If I’m honest, though, I don’t think he has any business in East.”

Markus stiffened slightly, a sudden bolt of fear jolting up his spine, so soon after this last fight that he nearly went for his gun. “You think I should send him out of Jericho?”

“I think he should be in South,” Simon corrected. “Maybe not forever, but at least for a while. From what you said, he took the first orders he was given after he deviated, and hasn’t done much except follow them since. He isn’t talking to anyone, won’t even look at anyone except you- Markus, he hasn’t picked clothes. He’s still in the remains of his Cyberlife uniform.” He shrugged, looking away. “I know he’s been invaluable as a part of the guard, and I think he’ll be trustworthy unless something changes, but I don’t think he should be here.”

Markus kept his eyes on the side of Simon’s head for a minute, feeling more like he’d been kicked in the chest than he had when he’d actually been kicked in the chest earlier. But finally, he swallowed and nodded. “Thank you, Simon. I’ll… keep that under consideration.” A moment of hesitation, and he tacked on, “I promise.”

Simon made a soft, dissatisfied sound, but anything more he might have said was cut off when the door banged open, making Connor flinch awake and scoot backwards, eyes darting immediately to the door and hand disappearing under the table.

North ignored him, shoving the door shut behind her and mounting the table in an easy motion. She had not washed the blood off, most of it on her hands and under her nails but some on her face and chest, and her hair was thin and clumpy from the rain. Her expression was somewhere between an unfriendly smirk and an irate snarl.

She was looking at Connor. “I thought you said you’d be decommissioned,” she said without a moment’s pause for breath or interruption, sharp with challenge.

“I-I was,” he snapped defensively, gaze dropped immediately from her face to the table. His fingers pulled at the fraying cuff of his sleeve, now colored with droplets of thirium and damp with rainwater. He was favoring his right arm, Markus noticed. “That wasn’t, he wasn’t, he was-”

“An RK900, not an RK800,” Markus interrupted, sparing the frustrated android. Connor deflated, relieved, and nodded remorsefully. “You didn’t mention him before.”

Connor’s gaze flickered briefly to each of them without ever meeting anyone’s eyes, still wary and shadowed even after three weeks. He was coiled tightly, subtly defensive, and it made Markus’ heart clench with less anxiety and more sadness every time he saw it.

“He was still under, under development,” Connor said, visibly uncomfortable. There was an odd texture about his throat that made Markus frown. “When I was in circulation. But I, I knew he was almost finished. Nines, he’s-”

“Nines?” Simon interrupted, throwing Connor’s train of thought off and making him go still for a moment, confused. Markus understood, though; it wasn’t like Connor to assign nicknames, and the thought that he’d been close with his successor was in some manner unsettling.

“…RK900,” Connor said after a moment, eyes still on the table. “My, ah, the development team called him that. Around me. But I think his name is, is Conan.”

He faltered- after a moment, Markus realized he wasn’t sure how to continue from there and rescued him again. “Nines’ development?”

Connor’s gaze lifted to his, wide brown eyes pinched at the corners, but relaxed a little and nodded. “Nines is more m-military-focused. Harder hitting and s-sturdier, but not as, as ver-versatile.” His hand went to cover his mouth, and he took a deep breath, eyes falling back to his arm. When he let go and spoke again, his voice came out steadier and more deliberate. “I don’t… think he could break the law. The, the government may be keeping a closer eye o-on Cyberlife’s compliance with regulation. And he was inexperienced. Bad at improvisation and using his environment.”

Connor exhaled harshly when he was done, looking like he’d burnt out his limited allotment of words. Markus opened his mouth to thank him, but North – who had been dead still for the entire explanation – interrupted him.

“Did you kill him?” she asked bluntly, arms crossed and head cocked, but the snarl of her mouth smoothed into a thin line. Markus’ heart tugged with melancholy, but he ignored it with the ease of lengthening practice.

“North,” Simon said warningly, but he was ignored.

Connor shook his head, and Markus’ stomach swooped in pitying frustration.

Well, of course he hadn’t. No one understood Conan’s situation better than Connor. And he was- well, in many ways, he was new. Accustomed as he was to spilling blood, and as easily as he’d turned that grim resolution on Jericho’s enemies – a good dozen FBI agents could attest to that – it was perhaps too much to expect for him to make the hard call here too.

And he’s had very little say in any of it, Markus reminded himself sternly – not like Markus, who had made the first call to violence only a month after starting to lead Jericho, or Josh, who had withdrawn to guard only the most vulnerable of them but never even considered leaving altogether.

North was not so understanding.

“Why the hell not?” she demanded, bringing her feet up to swing around and bare her teeth at Connor, the blood on her hands smearing on the table. “Your heart go soft when your programming dropped, hunter?”

Connor’s shoulders tensed, but he still didn’t rise to the bait, refusing to even meet North’s eyes. Perfectly even, he said, “I’ve killed everyone you’ve asked me to.”

He’d done more than that, Markus knew; aside from halving casualties during the first raid and occupying Conan’s attention during the second, he’d updated the patrol patterns to something more efficient, and he had some ideas for rearranging the workrooms so the less combat-ready were safer too. He was still too new to risk real resources on his ideas, aiming to capture warehouses and eventually police stations and infrastructure, but they were getting there.

The other residents had noticed, too, and they were slowly starting to warm up to Connor – especially the ones who spent the most time on guard rotation. Taking Connor in had been the right choice.

“Everyone has an adjustment period, North,” Markus interrupted, deliberately calm enough to force North to lower her hackles. “Connor is still new to deviancy.” Markus turned his attention off quietly fuming North, knowing she was angrier about the raid than anything else, and to Connor, who was already looking back at him with the tension of a scolded dog. “But she’s right, Connor. There are some kinds of mercy we can’t afford. You should know that better than anyone.”

Connor took it harder than Markus had meant, locking down visibly and staring at his fingers. His shoulders hunched up around his neck, and he nodded mutely, making no further protest. For a split second, Markus faltered, wanting to reassure him. The last statement had been a low blow; he didn’t need Simon’s pointed stare to tell him that.

Instead, he shook himself and moved on.

“The next time Conan goes for Jericho, do your best to put him down,” Markus said firmly. “We’ve been doing well, but that could change at the drop of a hat. We need at least another warehouse before we start aiming for infrastructure.” North smirked, but Simon just looked solemn. “Connor, you stand by your plan?” Connor nodded without looking up. “Then North, make a headcount of who can be repaired with what we have now. Simon, let Josh know, please.” Simon was better than even Markus at getting Josh to agree to plans of war.

North gave him a thumbs up, and Simon a weary, wry smile and a pointed glance at the door. Markus didn’t quite understand that second until he waved them off and realized that Connor was already gone.

------

Most of the androids Connor passed in the halls and the common rooms turned to look at him as he went by. Some of them snarled or sneered. More shrank away. Connor avoided looking at all of them, tuning in to the patter of rain instead.

It was still raining when Connor retreated outside, a rapid drum on the concrete that collected in dips and corners, icy cold and dimming the daylight hours. The fence stood out in the distance, damaged and bent, and Connor could taste petrichor on the air.

The still-evaporating thirium on his arms made his skin crawl, like a thousand layers of blue and red tacky on his hands, but he was used to ignoring it already. The same went for imaginary tired ache of his body, and the flicker of error messages around his vision, the protesting spark and grind of his shoulder and the crackle of his damaged throat plate. The moisture stung his injuries, but it was far more peaceful than the inside of the base, with too much noise and movement and people.

He sat down hard, knees up to his chest, and leaned back against the outside wall, closing his eyes to listen to the wind and the rain, letting the cool water dampen his half-dried clothing.

He thought of Nines. Cyberlife was unlikely to withhold repairs for such severe damage, but it was difficult to be sure with them – sometimes it depended on performance, sometimes on their mood, sometimes on the budget. Partial repair was a possibility as well.

It had been foolish of Connor to focus on disabling Nines rather than simply destroying him, which would have been faster, more effective, and allowed him to return in time to help fend off the FBI as well. Markus had never been so complacent with Connor. But…

But, nothing. Next time, Connor would destroy Nines. It couldn’t afford to do anything else.

He didn’t know how long he sat there, mind slipping off to doze in the gentle rain. It was peaceful outside, steady white noise and cool air and the muffled sound of androids still moving around in the warehouse. He would need to get up to watch the perimeter soon, but not yet. He could take a moment.

Connor hadn’t expected it to be so hard to stay awake. But, he supposed, that was what came of spending most of his time in stasis. Cyberlife hadn’t exactly afforded him the chance to occupy himself when he wasn’t hunting, and anyone who spoke around him spoke around him; he’d stopped trying to contribute early on, after one too many ‘mute’ commands as Connor-8.

Unlearning that was… hard, and not necessarily worthwhile when it mattered so little.

He stirred awake when someone started to approach, and went still again when they sat heavily beside him. When he looked up, though, it was to Markus, considering him with a thoughtful and unafraid expression. He looked at home here, as he did anywhere, his coat affording him a shield from the cold and the damp. Connor went unwillingly tense, mind flickering to his earlier mistake and what he knew he should be doing now, but he didn’t speak.

Connor wondered how Markus looked so unruffled.

Finally, Markus smiled at him, small and gentle, and Connor almost swayed forward, inexplicably drawn.

“You can stay inside, you know,” he said, quiet but clear despite the interference of the rain. “I hear it’s easier to sleep when you’re dry.”

Connor didn’t answer. It didn’t make any difference to him, and he bothered fewer people this way. He hadn’t even intended to sleep; it had just fallen over him, like it always did when he was still for too long. He kept his eyes on Markus, expectant, and Markus’ smile faded.

“Are you hurt anywhere?” he asked eventually, shifting to face Connor better and his coat scraping the asphalt. “I can’t imagine you got out of that encounter unscathed, especially if you weren’t aiming to kill.”

Connor blinked, confused, and took a moment to find his words. No reprimand for not getting back to work? He had promised, and he clearly wasn’t badly injured-

“I, I took some damage to m-my neck and shoulder,” he said at last, too tired to try and stop his stutter. “It doesn’t re-require repair.”

Markus’ face pinched in clear disappointment, but all he said was, “May I take a look?”

Connor nodded absently, and was still somehow caught by surprise when Markus reached for his shoulder and pressed on it tenderly, his fingers warm and steady as they explored the damage site. Connor exhaled sharply, going dead still, and Markus paused.

“Alright?” he asked quietly, and Connor nodded.

Markus hummed, and was somehow even gentler as his fingers prodded at the joint of Connor’s shoulder, going up over his collarbone and then down under his arm as well, even and attentive. All of Connor’s focus narrowed to that motion, tight and overwhelmed, but Markus didn’t seem to notice. It barely hurt at all, Markus erring to the side of caution as he assessed the cracked plating and the heat of damaged and self-healing wires. After a minute, Connor realized he was leaning into him, and knew Markus had noticed too when he paused.

Then Markus’ hands left his shoulder to press even more carefully at his throat, and Connor still didn’t move, feeling that as soon as he did, the gentle touch would leave.

Perhaps Markus sensed something of that, because he didn’t pull away even as he finished, his hands slipping down to Connor’s forearm instead. Connor opened his eyes, not sure when he’d closed them.

“You should have said something,” Markus chided.

“…Sorry,” Connor murmured, realizing his mistake – unlike Cyberlife, Markus did not monitor his personal feed. Connor would have to report his damage before Markus could make a judgement.

Markus sighed, and Connor felt worse.

“Why don’t we go see Lucy?” he said unexpectedly, bringing Connor’s eyes back to him. He was smiling again, slightly strained. “You may be able to repair this on your own, but it could go a little faster. Some thirium can’t hurt either.”

Markus thought Connor deserved medical attention.

“…But I was, was supposed to kill Nin-Nines,” he said slowly. Markus had been very clear about that. Connor’s performance had been sub-par.

Markus smiled oddly, with teeth. “We try not to withhold care based on performance,” he said, as if he’d read Connor’s mind.

“Oh.”

Connor liked Jericho better than Cyberlife. He’d known that already, but the differences got clearer every day.

Markus was still rubbing Connor’s arm, a slow back-and-forth Connor didn’t want to spook away.

“Did, did ev-ev-everyone get l-looked over?” There had been a few who went down before Connor spotted Nines – a former security model, a PM700, a particularly fierce VS waitstaff unit…

Another sigh, this time a sound Connor felt in his bones.

“Everyone recoverable,” Markus said tiredly.

Connor wondered who wasn’t. Then he wondered how many casualties it would take for Markus to decide Connor wasn’t worth the effort.

There would be funerals tonight, and Connor knew he was not invited.

“Supplies?” he asked.

A flicker of a smile. “Still in good stock from our last run. You’re running out of excuses, Connor.” It faded quickly. “Do you know why they sent Conan? Why didn’t they just send another of…”

He trailed off, troubled.

“I never am-amounted to anything,” Connor said, surprised that this was a question. “They were on, on the, on the verge of de-decommissioning me a-anyway. I, I knew d-deviating would force, force, force their hand.” He resisted the urge to cover his mouth again, exhausted by himself.

Nines had been finished for months, with better performance statistics than Connor had ever had and less than a dozen drafts. All they’d needed was an excuse.

Connor’s clothing was soaked. His shoulder spasmed.

“That’s not true,” Markus said, sharp enough to make Connor flinch. His eyes were intense, his grip on Connor solid enough to wake him up and demand his attention. “No one worth nothing would survive a year and a half of that and come out compassionate. No one useless could cut casualties within a week of arriving or try so hard to step up and help. Cyberlife was wrong.”

He sounded like he meant it. Connor swallowed, static and painful, unbreakably drawn to the man in front of him and shaken to his core in some way he couldn’t identify.

It didn’t make sense.

“I came o-out more of a, a machine than wh-when I was f-first built,” he said, because it was true. He remembered: in the beginning he had been curious and eager, and talkative, and ambitious, and now he was just bloody and compliant. “And you- you were d-doing fine without me.”

He knew he was a help to Markus’ cause – that was why Markus had wanted him, after all – but it was true. Markus had been slowly gaining traction over the last year and a half, and they didn’t need Connor. Not really.

“But thank you,” he added belatedly, even quieter. “You… really don’t n-need to be so kind to me, Markus.”

Connor wouldn’t stop him, though. Any kindness Markus was willing to offer, he wanted.

And in exchange, he would give Markus anything. Absolutely anything.

Markus studied him for a few moments longer, silent and solemn, and then stood, offering Connor a hand up.

“Let’s get out of the rain,” he said quietly. “And then Lucy can take a look at you.”

Connor stared up at him, silhouetted by the dim light and the rain, calm and unmovable, and then nodded, reached up, and took his hand.

#connor #markus #rk1000 #dbh #detroit become human #fanfiction #my writing #more of this verse!! #it only took like #two weeks for me to write lmao #means to an end

[theangelofvengeance]

A Wish Among The Stars

Midnight had officially been broken around what seemed to be the remains of Garreg Mach Monastery. This great big building which had been home to Fodlan's archbishop, Lady Rhea, was nothing more than reduced to ruins, all thanks to a sneak attack that had been planned by former student and the current emperor of the Adrestian Empire, Edelgard Von Hresvelg. It had finally been five years ago ever since that incident occurred, and safe to say, a lot of the students, teachers and everyone who have worked closely with Lady Rhea, had never forgotten that fateful day.

No doubt Ashe Ubert was one of those students who experienced that unforgettable sneak attack just five years ago. It was also five years ago that his dear professor, Byleth, had been presumed missing. Yes, he had been found ever since, and he had been working all day night with the rest of the Blue Lions to get even against Edelgard herself. And tomorrow was gonna be the day that their professor would take the class he lead in his life over to the Adrestian capital of Enbarr, where they can finally overthrow Edelgard's bloodthirsty regime once and for all.

And it was gonna be the final battle too. That was the one thing Ashe didn't expect, but was expected anyway since the archer himself didn't know how long he wanted to keep fighting this way. Right now, he just wanted to keep both Fodlan and Faerghus, the towns that he resided in in a state of peace. At least on this night Ashe was having all to himself, he only managed to get a brief taste of that peace as he found himself all alone in the middle of the night, stargazing down from the greenhouse he was slumbered inside in. It was mostly Ashe's thing whenever he found himself bored or just wanted to get away from the madness outside the monastery. There was something about being roomed inside a greenhouse while looking at the stars through one of the windows that made it sound so hauntingly beautiful. That and mixed with the sweet aroma of flowers around him made for a perfect nighttime setting.

Of course, he also couldn't forget the warm aroma of chocolate chip cookies that was cooling off in the box that was sitting next to him. This definitely sounded like a peaceful moment to him indeed, especially when he let his thoughts out all to himself.

"I can't wait for this entire war to be over and done with. It almost feels like a long time too..."

A calm sigh broke from Ashe's lips, one that spoke out of pure peace and yet out of uncertainly. He couldn't quite help but think that this upcoming battle with Edelgard could possibly be his last, should he have to die in that final war. He also couldn't help but think if this war would be the final time he would ever see his friends again if they were to fall in battle. Throughout the years in the monastery, he had made friends with his fellow Blue Lions like Felix, Ashe, Ingrid, Mercedes, Sylvain, Annette and their trustful King of Faerghus, Dimitri. Not to mention the students his dear professor recruited into the group like Dorothea, Ferdinand, Leonie, Lysithea, Hilda, Marianne, Balthus and Constance. Ashe had treated everyone of them more than friends.

They were his family. The kind of family that Ashe never got the chance to have even though he was adopted. The kind of family that even though they weren't related, they were bonded by blood and blood alone. What he wouldn't do for any of them that's already been said enough. He continued to reminisce for a little while until he felt the inside of his stomach rumble out of hunger.

"Okay, I hope those cookies are cold enough for me to eat now..." Ashe said to himself before putting his hand inside the box of cookies.

But as he did though, he somehow touched what seemed to be a silk-like glove instead of a baked cookie biscuit. This feeling gave Ashe a grim gulp around his throat as he quickly turned his head to see who he was touching.

The mysterious figure Ashe was touching smiled right to him, "Hi, Ashe."

'GAAAAH!" shrieked Ashe as he nearly fell out of the ledge he was sitting on.

The archer managed to keep his balance long enough to refocus on the person that was sitting next to him, which just happened to be one of his Blue Lions teammates, Annette.

"Don't do that, Annette! You really scared the heck out of me!" Ashe said with his heart palpitating.

"I'm sorry to scare you like that, Ashe." The cheerful girl replied back to him, "I kinda smelled chocolate chip cookies and I was wondering where that smell was coming from in the first place."

"Oh, that..." Ashe chuckled with a blush on his face. He then looked down at the box and said, "Yeah, it was coming from this box. Mercedes kinda made me a batch full of cookies, and I'm trying to cool them off."

"Well, they definitely look scrumptious." Annette nodded before asking, "You don't mind, do you?"

The silver-haired archer then nodded back, "Oh, go ahead."

"Thanks," She smiled sweetly, taking a freshly-baked cookie out from the box. Munching on the cookie itself, Annette then asked the archer, "By the way, I didn't know you hung out here at nights."

Ashe fought out a nervous chuckle as he said with a cookie in hand, "Yeah, sometimes I need to find a good place to get some space and clear my thoughts. What with this being a crazy world due to all of the battles we've fought in so far."

"No kidding," Annette nodded with her mouth full, "Hard to believe we've been through so much, it's no wonder we're still alive in one piece."

"Indeed," Ashe nodded back, "The hardest part of every battle is realizing the fact that in every fight, we have to lose every one of our friends. The ones we grew up with in this very monastery. The fact that they're not with us anymore still hurts."

Annette felt that very same thing Ashe was feeling: Hurt. And no doubt that taking their friends lives in the middle of this tragic war hurt so much like a bloody dagger straight to the heart. It jams in there back and forth before it sinks right into the womb, leading to the brink of nowhere when it comes to life. Sometimes, it even led both Ashe and Annette to wonder themselves if this was hardly worth fighting for. The cold hard truth was that it wasn't worth it, but at the end of the day, it was the way this war had to be.

Minutes of silence passed between both Ashe and Annette for a good while, only for the auburn-haired songbird to break the tension by staring right up to the skies and said, "You know Ashe, maybe they're not really gone at all."

"Huh? What do you mean?" Ashe raised his eyebrow, looking at Annette with such curiosity.

"Maybe they're up there in the skies," Annette said as she pointed up the starry sky, "From the way I see it, I like to envision the friends we lost in those battles as stars. Maybe the goddess reincarnated them as such. Sure they may not be with us on this Earth, but up there, they're watching above us in this starry night." She then pointed to the exact moon itself and said, "And see that moon upthere, Ashe?"

"Yeah, I see it." Ashe nodded.

"That moon, in my mind, represents the goddess itself." Annette pointed out once more, "And those stars in the sky are joined with her in perfect harmony. Because like us, those friends fought and gave their lives for a higher purpose. We honor her and them with our hearts, because we all know they never went away no matter what their fate on Earth lies."

Ashe let out a brief, yet relieved smile as he nodded. "Huh, you're right. I really never thought about it that way."

Peaceful solitude began to break out between the two young Blue Lions themselves. Neither Ashe and Annette knew how peaceful their time looking at the stars was. Oh, if only it could be like this between the two friends themselves without any kind of war breaking out, then they never get tired of each other's company. Ever.

That solitude would only last for a bit while before Annette was surprised by the image of a shooting star falling from orbit. This excited the cheerful overachiever so much that she tugged Ashe right by the shoulder to get his attention.

"Hey Ashe, look up there!" She said as Annette pointed up to the right.

Ashe immediately followed suit as he looked up once more, only to see that shooting star shine right between his pale green eyes. It looked quite beautiful from afar, even going so far to shine even more brightly than a pearly white smile.

"I can't believe it's a shooting star," The archer chuckled out, "I hardly ever get any of those at night."

Annette chuckled once again as she said, "I guess we're lucky then, now we get to make a wish."

"Yeah," Ashe smiled back with a nervous blush growing between his cheeks. Soon as his blush faded away, the archer then asked Annette, "What did you wish for, anyway?"

The auburn-haired cutie shrugged before saying, "I don't know, nothing special. My only wish is that I just want this war to be over and make it in one piece with everyone on our side."

"That's a really good wish you thought of." Ashe nodded reassuringly.

"I did, didn't I?" Annette said, blushing a bit herself before asking him, "You make a wish yourself, Ashe?"

The archer, truth be told, possibly didn't know how to respond to that one simple question, leading him to shrug back at her in response.

"I wouldn't know to be honest," He finally replied, "I mean, there are so many things I'm looking forward to in the future that I couldn't possibly think of what to wish for and all. I thought so many like leaving Fodlan to mark a path of my very own, maybe become a knight that I've always dreamed of being for in a famous House, or maybe retire and spend all my days shooting apples with my arrows and whatnot."

Annette broke out in a giggle saying, "You thinking of being some sort of mountain man? I can't imagine what you'd look like with a beard."

"I probably wouldn't say I'd go that far." Ashe chuckled back, sharing a laugh with the girl sitting right close to him.

All that laughing and stargazing ended up making Ashe even more hungry then usual. He decided to pick up yet another chocolate chip cookie when all of a sudden, he felt Annette's hand touch his yet again, resulting in both Ashe and Annette exchanging a blush between each other.

"Oh, I'm sorry." He said, apologizing to her.

"Oh, don't apologize, that one's on me." Annette said, pardoning the archer.

But as soon as they touched hands, something weird started to happen with the two of them together. Well, Annette most of all though as she felt a warm resonance coming from Ashe's own hand. It looked quite soft yet so warm for someone whose hands felt a little dirty after a day of training or perhaps a day of battle. Ashe felt the same way about Annette's hands too. They were smooth, creamy and inviting like feeling a cloth of silk for the first time or perhaps a cloud that Ashe could feel himself touch from where he was sitting at. The feeling felt amazing for the two of them, so much so that they never escaped each other's gaze at all.

Annette quickly wiped her blush away before replying to Ashe, "I really like spending time with you, Ashe."

"Same here," Ashe nodded with a whisper escaping his lips. He composed himself with a deep breath before he said to Annette, "You know, seeing that shooting star up in the sky, I realize I did make a wish after all."

"Really? What's that?" Annette asked curiously.

She didn't wait too long to get an answer from him.

In fact, Annette got his answer in the form of his lips meeting hers in an unexpected kiss. The auburn-haired overachiever felt her eyes bloat up out of shock and surprise. The shock of course came from the fact that she never expected Ashe to pull a gesture off like that, and the surprise was from the fact that the kiss he gave her felt so calm and sweet to her. It was clear that the time inside her mind clearly stopped the longer the kiss was going on. And deep down, Annette found herself enjoying it to the very last.

Although not for long as Ashe quickly broke away from her just to whisper to Annette, "My wish was to spend this moment with you."

She felt her heart completely melt from his words, leaving Annette to blush in response and lose a bit of feeling in her legs, realizing that the boy she had been friends with for such a long time had romantic feelings for her with just one single wish. It was all in perfect timing, knowing if this moment between the two was gonna be the final time should either Ashe, Annette or the rest of the Blue Lions not escape this final war with Edelgard unscathed.

Annette, who was still speechless from that kiss, continued to relish in this sweet moment by returning Ashe's gesture with a kiss of her own. Unlike Ashe though, her kiss felt much more passionate, yet much more deeper than his by a step forward. His insides immediately melted in response to her warm sweet lips intoxicating him per second. That proved to be more than enough for Ashe to wrap his arms around Annette and cock his head to the side, taking in more of her kiss with his in return. The two of them knew that if they were to die tomorrow by the hands of Edelgard and her tyrannical Adrestian Empire, at least they would be together as boyfriend and girlfriend no matter what fate would take them next.

Right now, relishing in this sweet moment was all that mattered to both Ashe and Annette, knowing that it was a wish worth making to them among the stars.

#Fire Emblem Three Houses #Ashe X Annette #Ashe Ubert #Annette Fantine Dominic #romance #fanfiction #oneshot #FE3H #Ashenette #Azure Moon #Blue Lions

[notimetoblog]

Love After You (Pt. 2)

Summary: In a time of ballrooms and ballgowns, a looming war threatens to bring darkness. Still, love finds a way to cut through. Some loves, you find, come slowly. Others, come unexpectedly. Could either one survive the war that is to come?

A/N: Hi hi!!!! I’m back with a new chapter for this series! Thank you so much for your kindness with the first chapter! I really do hope you'll enjoy this new one. Thanks so much for reading!!

“A party?” you try to keep your voice from raising. If you had learned one thing about your mother is that she did not appreciate anyone raising their voice, especially about parties. 

“Yes,” she says sternly, more than ready to fight any remark you might throw her way. 

She sits across from you, fingers moving expertly as she fills in a rose petal on her embroidery hoop. 

At least her eyes are down, you think. Her gaze was cold enough to freeze a spring day. 

“I don’t want to hear any of your complaints,” she barks, reading your mind. “Your father said yes, and frankly this town could use a party.”

“Yes mother, but,” you venture, wondering just how many words she’s going to allow you. 

“But nothing,” she cuts you off as she heaves a sigh. 

Apparently just three. 

Would it kill you to try sneaking in a few more? Perhaps, but the options for entertainment were limited, and that message from Steve hadn’t arrived, so you took a chance. She did have a needle in hand, though. But what a way to go — pierced by embroidery needle. 

“But there’s nothing to celebrate,” you finish your sentence, eyes darting looking for any place to hide — preferably one that could stop a flying needle. 

“What did I just say?” she doesn’t speak her words; she spits them out. No piece of furniture could halt those weapons. 

“But nothing,” you repeat her words, toning down the sass you so badly wish you could express freely. 

“You get that attitude from your father,” she continues her rant, fingers picking up where she had left on the rose petal. “How unfortunate. But in any case, I am planning the party, and you are too. No complaining or I will be sure you plan the entire party on your own, do you hear me?”

You know you should respond with a Yes, mother but you’d be lying if you said the thought of responding with a Maybe I will plan the party on my own didn’t cross your mind. But she had already reprimanded you once, though, and you were hoping to live and see Steve again, so you decide to bite your tongue. 

“Yes, mother.”

“Good,” she says in relief, clearly not in the mood to continue arguing. “This party has to be the talk of the town for the next year. I’m even planning on sending a letter to Patrick, just to ask when he’d be available to play.”

She was inviting the most celebrated pianist in the region with no particular reason for a party except to cure the apparent boredom your mother was suffering.

“And base the date of the party around his schedule?” you ask, measuring your mother’s distaste of the question by how quickly her fingers move as she continues embroidering. 

“Yes,” she responds, fingers almost a blur, leaving you to wonder how she managed to embroider such delicate petals. “If I have to wait a decade for him to play at my party, then so be it. But he has to be here, that’s final.”

“Yes, mother,” you say in a monotone voice. 

“But until I get his response, we need to think of people to invite. The mayor is back in town; we should invite him.”

“Yes,” you mumble.

“You can invite Wanda if you’d like. She’s a nice girl from a nice family. She’d be a fine party guest.”

This is what you’d come to learn was your mother’s form of a peace offering. She’d offer you something, that had already been decided by her, and disguised it as something you had decided on your own. 

You had not, in fact invited Wanda, your mother had. And she most likely already had a guest list in mind so all she expects you to do, really, is say yes. 

“The Starks, of course,” she says, voice trailing as she moves on to a more detailed section on her pattern. 

“Of course,” you repeat.

“And the Banners?”

“Would not be a party without them, mother,” you say very much enjoying her distraction. 

“The Hills. You like Maria, right?”

“Yes, I do.”

“And you know who else is in town?”

Your mother sends you a glare when you don’t respond.

“Mr. Barnes,” she answers her own question and your entire body tenses. 

That man, you were sure, had passed. The word of his death had arrived in town a few weeks ago. Most people saying it was of old age, others more sinister, however, murmured that a secret life had caught up with him.  Those rumors painted a more gruesome death colored with illegitimate children and mistresses. 

“That man passed,” you heard your voice shake. He couldn’t be back. And if he was, your mother couldn’t be inviting a dead man to her party. What would Patrick say?

“Not that Mr. Barnes,” her laugh fills the room. “His son.”

Now, Mr. Barnes had not been the most open of books. Most of his time spent in a large plot of land he owned hours from the town, only returning to his home in town for a few months. Still, when the cholera outbreak hit years ago, the word in town said his wife and children had fallen ill and passed. Not all his children, apparently.

“His son just moved into the house on Regina Street. What kind of neighbors would we be if we didn’t welcome him with an invitation to our party?”

“His father died just weeks ago, mother. Is he even ready to attend a party?”

“Well, there’s only one way to find out,” she said, an eyebrow raised. 

---

The letter to Patrick had been sent that same day, your mother unable to contain herself, a date had been set, guests delivered of their invitations, and now the night had arrived. 

You had chosen a midnight blue off-the-shoulder dress for the occasion: the color, a secret nod to Steve’s uniform. His eyes had lit up, a bright smile on his lips when you had told him. Even though he wouldn’t be with you tonight, a piece of him would. 

Your mother had added her own touch to the dress, giving you a white lace shawl that beautifully contrasted with the richness of the blue. 

Descending the stairs, Patrick’s lively melodies had already begun to fill to the foyer. You find couples swaying to and fro making it almost impossible to make your way through into the front parlor, where the majority of the guests lounged around chatting. 

Carefully you squeezed past the full skirt ballgowns, hearing a few groans from the couples whose dance you were interrupting. 

Still, you continued moving, your eyes catching your mother’s as she spoke to the mayor and his wife. A tiny nod of approval as she took in the way the shawl she had given you draped across your shoulders. 

She was in her element. Social gatherings were her time to shine, and by the looks of it, most everybody was hoping to get in a few words with the hostess of tonight’s party, making your mother stand tall, a brilliant smile on her face. 

The soft glow from the candles that surrounded the room drew your eyes to the tall windows that looked out to the garden of the home. In the nighttime, only shadows were visible, creating a black backdrop to the merry atmosphere in the room.

Distracted, you jump when an unfamiliar voice suddenly speaks from your right. 

“If you stare long enough, your eyes play tricks on you and shapes appear in the shadows,” a young man you’d never met before says, gaze fixed out onto the garden. 

Dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit, a crisp white shirt, and silky white bowtie, the man squints his eyes, still focused on the garden.

“There,” he says, raising his drink and gently tipping it toward the windows. “That almost looks like a dog,” he chuckles. 

Confused by his words, you look in the direction he had pointed towards, eyes finding what you knew was a rose bush. Still, you find yourself smiling as you can just make out the sloppy outline of a dog.

“We don’t have a dog,” you say, smile still in place as the longer you stare, the more distinct the shape becomes. 

“Are you sure?” he replies, gaze fixed on you now. “Because, miss, I swear there’s a dog in your garden.”

“I’m sure,” you can’t help but laugh at the seriousness in his voice. Anybody else would be convinced he’s actually concerned. 

“Where are my manners,” he speaks up, straightening his back and setting down his drink on a small table to his left. He seems confused for a second before he reaches out and takes your hand in his, slowly bringing it up to press a formal kiss along your knuckles. “My name is James Buchanan Barnes, and it’s been an honor getting to attend this lovely party of yours.”

With a timid look, he lets go of your hand, eyes hesitant. The confidence and ease present in his voice just minutes ago seemingly wavering. 

Barnes. 

Your mind starts connecting the dots, realizing this is most definitely not the older man you had originally pictured when your mother had mentioned the Barnes last name. 

“Mr. Barnes,” you voice your thoughts aloud.  “I’m very sorry about your father.”

The ease in your voice also wavers. Speaking about death was never pleasant.

 “Thank you,” he responds too quickly. “I was a bit surprised when I received the invitation,” he says, confidence slowly returning as he pushes past the death of his father. “Wasn’t expecting such a warm welcome.”

Picking up on the not-so-subtle clues that he wished to change the topic, you follow his lead.

“It’s my mother’s sole goal to be friends with everybody in this town. By the end of the night, she will have spoken to everybody in this room about four times, just to be absolutely sure she’s done her role as hostess justice.”

“She’s cornered me twice already,” he laughs, abruptly stopping to look for any sign of offense on your features.

“You’ve got at least two more times coming your way,” you give him an understanding smile. If anybody had felt cornered by your mother, it was you. “My advice, try not to make eye contact with her.”

It happens too fast for you to be certain it’s real, but out of the corner of your eye, you see something golden move quickly in the garden. A golden color that seems very familiar.

It couldn’t be. 

Perhaps Mr. Barnes was correct, and your eyes had only been playing tricks on you. 

It seemed he hadn’t seen what you thought you had, though, as he speaks through his laughter.   

“That’s hard to do when her eyes seem to be on every corner of the room at once.”

“It’s a talent she’s worked hard to develop,” you reply, stomach doing flips as you picture just what she’d do if she ever discovered what you were talking about with the town’s newest resident. 

“Speaking about talent,” he begins, “The pianist? He’s the Patrick.”

“Yes,” you answer with a chuckle. “The one and only.”

“It would be a shame if we let his talent go to waste, don’t you think?” You note his voice has dropped. Typical. “May I have this dance?”

It takes you a few seconds to respond as your eye again catches a glimpse of gold in the garden. This time much closer to the windows. 

“Of course,” you finally say with a courteous smile, missing the way his eyes light up. 

You sense your mother’s gaze on you both and finding her, you spot the smile on her face. Whether it’s meant for you or the couple she’s speaking to is up for debate. But there’s something in her smile, as if she’s looking beyond tonight, a sense of knowledge on her part. 

But it’s hard to dwell on the details of her smile, as Mr. Barnes strikes up another animated conversation. One hand on your waist, the other delicately wrapping around yours.

 “It’s hard to tell at night, but I believe I saw there was a few more of those dog bushes in your garden. Are you responsible for those?”

“They’re actually rose bushes,” you say in mock offense, making him chuckle. “And yes, tending to the garden helps pass the time.”

“My father owns, well owned,” he amends, “a large estate a few hours from here. There’s a very rare type of lily that grows there. People always asked him for bulbs, but he never gave any away. They would even offer him money, and he still refused.”

“Well he was proud of them only being in his garden,” you say distractedly trying to spot the hint of gold once again among the sea of darkness of the outdoors.

 “I could bring back a few bulbs for your garden the next time I’m in town,” he suggests. “I’m sure they’ll thrive under your care.”

This time, it’s not just a blur of gold that you spot, but your favorite shade of steel blue, as you see Steve’s eyes peeking into the foyer, his usually neat golden hair, a mess. 

He has the nerve to send you a wink, gesturing up the stairs with his head, before disappearing into the darkness once again.

“That’s very nice,” you mumble, hoping Mr.Barnes hadn’t picked up on the fact that you had no idea what he had just said. 

And just on cue, the last notes to the piece being played fills the foyer. 

“Thank you for the dance,” you say in haste, already itching to get up to your room. “If you’ll excuse me, I think I need a bit of a break.”

“Of course,” his voice is soft, a sound that matches the softness of his gaze. “It was my pleasure, miss.”

You step away from him, trying to steady your racing heart as you make your way up the stairs. 

You aren’t very successful, however. The thought of Steve being here too much for your heart to take. 

Slowly opening the door to your bedroom, you find him halfway through the window of your room, awkwardly draping his legs over the ledge. 

“What are you doing here?” you ask quietly, trying not to laugh as he finally makes it into your room after a bit of a struggle.

 He makes his way to you, a smile on his lips as he lets his gaze take in your dress. 

He’s not in his uniform tonight. Instead, he has a casual pair of trousers with suspenders on, a light blue shirt buttoned only halfway, letting a white shirt peak from underneath. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up until just below the elbow.

 He’s a dream. 

“Well, you left me wondering just how gorgeous this dress of yours was, sweetheart. I had to come see it for myself.”

“And?” you ask, giving him a twirl. 

“You’re a dream come true,” he whispers, his words dripping like honey, and suddenly he seems too far away.

It seems he also senses the distance between you both as he takes a couple of steps, arms encircling your waist, soft lips finding yours. Warmth spreads in your chest, as his scent surrounds you. It’s home, it’s safety, it’s love. Butterflies flutter in your stomach as his hold becomes tighter, his kiss deeper. Everything around you disappears. It’s just you and him. Gone is the soft, muffled sound of the music and chatter from downstairs, it’s replaced with your synched heartbeats.  

He parts first, appeasing you with a peck when he sees your pout. 

“Seems I wasn’t the only one to recognize how beautiful you look tonight,” he says, a teasing tone to his voice you can look right through. 

Your heart drops. Certainly, he didn’t think you and Mr. Barnes had anything more than a simple shared dance. 

“It didn’t—" you begin, stopped by another quick peck.

“I know,” he reassures you, but his gaze is still too gloomy for your liking. “I just hoped to be the one to get a dance with you tonight.”

“Well the music is still playing,” you say, wanting desperately to see that spark in his eyes return. 

“I can barely hear it,” he responds, suddenly straightening out, an idea quickly forming. “Do you still have the present I gave you?”

You immediately catch on, choosing to let go of the fact that he thought there was even a small chance you had gotten rid of his present. Finding the small heart-shaped box in your vanity drawer, you walk back to where he stands — the box reflecting the glow of the moonlight. 

He opens it, his fingers delicate as if the box could shatter if he moves too quickly. 

As the first few notes of the melody begin to play, he sets the box down. 

“May I have this dance?” he asks, his boyish smile finally returning to his face as he bows. 

“It would be my pleasure,” you smile, responding to his bow with a curtsy. 

“I made sure to wear my Sunday best,” he chuckles, bringing you close. 

This time, you let your head rest on his shoulder, eyes closed as he sways you to the melody of the music box. 

“You’re always so handsome,” you reply, tucking your head even more into the crook of his neck, his warmth bringing you in. “Always a dream.”

“You’re my dream,” he whispers, placing a feather-soft kiss to the top of your head. “Sometimes I wonder if you’re real because how is it possible that the perfect person for me exists and is right here in my arms. Will I one day wake up alone in the barracks, only to realize this was all just a dream?”

“No,” you soothe him, understanding his sentiment all too well. “Because it isn’t a dream. I love you with all my heart, Steve.”

He continues to sway you both, letting your words settle deep within his heart. Deep enough to ensure that nothing could ever erase them.  

“And I love you,” he says. 

You have to open and close the music box a few times, hushed giggles breaking the silence. But after some time, you let the melody fade, dancing, instead, to the beat of your hearts. 

---

Bucky tags :D ( i kept my promise!!)

@camillechan @just-add-butter @buckyisthepuresthuman @carry-on-my-fandom @creideamhgradochas @sixweekcure4dreams @verycoolveryunique @dugan365 @jitterbuck @buckysmusculararm @headinthe-fridge @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety @hedwigthelegend @sappybarnes @coal000 @the-whitewolfie @natcad @winters-beauty @dixonsbugaboo @sawdustandsugar @silverbvcky  @whyugottabsorude @theoutlinez @killjoynotes @agentpegcxrter @demonspawn2468 @books-movies-eternal @buckysbeech @thefridgeismybestie @lionheo04 @pinkfairyfluff @imaginecrushes @cauraphernelia @angieptt @fridolf-arach @nerdgirljen @bucky-is-a-hero-fightme @consttantina @titty-teetee @bfuckjames @crowleysqueenofhell @sebtrashcan-stan @jaamesbbarnes @heartssick @losemymemory @redstarstan @dracris33 @fuckthatfeeling @tamed-chaos @bringmetoawonderland @mlehbleh @mawimey @delicatelyherdreams @buckyswinterchildren @jaysaku @stanclub  @your-pixels-are-showing  @thisismysecrethappyplace @who-the-heck-knows @polaroid-idiocity @plumsforbuckxx  @friendly-neighborhood-lich-queen @bambamwolf87 @ohhhotstan @whileinparis @sebbysstangirl @trashpandabarnes @buckybarneshairpullingkink @ohhhotstan @lokilvrr @freyjawalker @sebbybarrnes  @palaiasaurus64 @httpmcrvel  @piensa-bonito @until-theend-oftheline @awkwardfangirl2014   @mywinterwolf @all1e23 @teamcap4bucky @wintersxsoul @prettyyoungtragedy @suz-123 @buckyofthemyscira @kentuckybarnes @tropicalcap @moonbeambucky @gamorazenn @hello-lucifer-here @sold-my-soul-in-2016 @ifyousayyouloveme @sgtjbuccky  @darlingtholland @desibarnes @aryastarss @driftingtonystark @everythingbooknerd 

Love After You tags

@arosewithdaisies @verygraphicink @bookgirlunicorn 

#bucky barnes x reader #steve x reader #bucky x reader #steve rogers x reader #bucky x you #steve x you #bucky barnes x you #steve rogers x you #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfiction #historical!AU #stories by notimetoblog