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joannasteez · 3 years

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Hey!! So, I have an idea. Could you write a fic about EZ and the reader’s wedding night? With smut of course 😏. I feel like he’d be so sweet and he’d be giving so much praise. You’re a wizard at combining fluff and smut, so I know you’d do amazing with this! Sending you lots of love 😁🥰

Short Summary: You and EZ turn in earlier than planned from your wedding reception.

Gif Credits @losaslut

Taglist: @my-rosegold-soul @appropriate-writers-name @est1887 @xladymacbethx @blessedboo @brownsugarcoffy @elektriknachosss @queenbeered @sesamepancakes @superhoeva @witching-hour @noz4a2 @withmyteeth @rae-gar-targaryen @cruzwalters @rose-bliss @youlovetkay

𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄, 𝐀𝐋𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐒

It was a quake in his belly, ravenous, spreading wild and untamed, free, like fire, just a hairs breadth away from desperation. Starvation. It was hunger, jolting tingles prickling, crackling the tips of his fingers, an electric feeling of desire, need. He knew then, knows now, in his soul he’s got to have it, reach out to it, grab at it. Hunger, it’s a shift in his breath, his whole life stuck on the upturn of an inhale but now, finally, feeling free enough to fall, to breathe. And then without wait, breathe again. The body, his body, aches for it --always has-- needs it, this little thing called love. Craves it, so much so that it trembles, forlorn in the way that it lays, stands, sits, exist, till it has it. Till he has it. Has love. Till he can touch it, hear it, smell it, feel it, taste it, hold it gentle in the palm of his hand because...

“Remember Ezekiel, love is a vulnerable thing, don’t waste it”. Felipe’s voice always so mellow and coarse. Reminiscent. “Don’t waste it son, don’t waste it”.

“Can you go three weeks without me Reyes?” You were such a damn tease, even if he could hate you he wouldn’t.

He felt like a madman for saying yes. Just a heel - toe away from insanity.

Three weeks of sweet faint kisses, the taste of your lips ghosting, melting no where else but the very tip of his tongue, and barely felt touches, like a breeze born at dawn too busy moving, flowing, to cascade along the leaves that live for its graceful feel, all because you wanted him needy for you. Hungry.

He couldn’t say “I do” fast enough. “Lets get out of here”. His whisper breathy and warm at your ear. Feet shifting with his, fingers in each others embrace, dancing beneath a chandelier sky.

You’d said “I do” so perfectly. The phrase rich off your lips, dripping like honey, so bright, warm and embracing, a promise. Like some sweet summer melody. It was heavenly.

“You still with me?” The question just above a whisper, your fingers ruffling aimlessly through the hair at his chin.

“Of course”.

“What were you thinking about?” His lip becoming the object of your thumbs affection. The rosy pink flesh so demanding to the eyes, tantalizing.

“How much I need you”.

But it’s a painful longing Ezekiel has, burdening him more than he’d ever be able to tell, one that aches well and deep at the heart of him, melting away bone and wearing the strength of his nerve, leaving him open to the air of you, raw and helpless, but it’s good all the same. He’s weak in love. It’s exhilarating nonetheless, the type of yearning he works tirelessly to sate but begs also never to leave him for fear that he would never feel so wholly, so deeply for another this way again. Finding such pleasure in this love stricken pain, he realizes as he stares into your eyes, only you could do something like this, possess him to feel such an adoration for the way you weaken him. And the silk dress helps him none, the soft white fabric draped along your body drawing him in, persuading his fingers to ruffle beneath, the dig of them measured as they stretch over your thighs, inching towards the sweetest place he knows.

His gaze never leaves you, the straps of your dress slim and dainty as you slip them away over your shoulders.

The shake of his head is a mixture of wonder and disbelief. How were you so beautiful, and he so lucky? “Goddam”, he whispers, the white lace accessorizing your skin calling him, pleading for his strong, gentle touch.

You slip easy into his lap, the end of the plush bed dipping.

Your lips feather over his, breath as soft as your caressing hold along the sharp edge of his jaw. So close you could taste him. “I know how much you love me in lace”.

He groans, placing a hand at your back before he turns to lay you at the heart of the bed. Present himself properly your beauty. “You’re incredible. So perfect”.

Drowning, after three weeks of nothing you’re neck deep in a passion far too great just to be your own, the faint taste of champagne running fresh, swirling on your tongue from his. Three weeks, and finally, he gives you a breathless kiss. Deep, demanding, and addictively unbearable in a way that makes you want to fall into it, wander into the heart of it till you’re lost forever. But what does it all mean?, to be so unearthed in this moment, to fall and fly at the same time? Delve face first into heaven and earth, what else does it mean if not becoming weak in love too.

“I missed you”, his lips lazy at the lace dressing your breast, tongue drawing slow till they’re twisted hard and aching, but he doesn’t stop. Of course he doesn’t, because when has Ezekiel ever given up the opportunity to tease you? Cause your body such an alluring grief. “I missed this”. Wet kisses swirling and melting into your skin till he’s suckling hard at your lace covered slit, wetness pooling in an instant. “She missed me too”, he chuckles, before it slips into a moan at the roll of your hips. Rosy lips traveling, mapping the underside of your thighs. His eyes blown, glazed over with want as they peer into yours. “You’re so pretty baby”, a small kiss to the peak of your right knee. “So beautiful”. Another just above your navel. “All mine”.

“You can stare and admire me later. I need you now”, you fight the whine threatening to wrap smooth over your words. Fingers reaching for him, wanting him close.

He’s at your ear in seconds, the weight of him pressed well into you, hand strong as he takes one of your legs to wrap secure around him. “How do you want me hermosa?. Tell me”.

“Slow. Make love to me”

He’s moving like the earth has stopped so generously for this moment, calloused fingers relieving you of all the beautiful lace like you’re some precious gift, and then his bottoms are gone, clothes forgotten like everything else that isn’t you. If nothing else in the moment, it’s his sudden affinity for patience that’s most agonizing, but deep down you know you deserve it, leaving him touch starved for three weeks was a bit low. But even patience, with the right touch, wears thin quick, the heel of your left foot settling at the base of his back, both legs now warm at his waist. It’s the creeping roll up his spine that gets him, like a call to action, a firm hand that makes him fall to you with a fluidity, such grace in motion you haven’t seen in weeks. ‘Again... three weeks... why’d you make him wait?’, the small pieces of you wonder, till he’s sinking in hard, hot and thick inside you.

“That’s it”, he encourages. Reveling in your tight fit, utterly dazed in the way it satiates the heat reddening his skin. “Let me in baby”. Another groan escaping all drawn out into the hot skin of your neck when he bottoms out.

“Oh fuck”. Your moan slurred in that delirious way. Eyes daring to roll, your jaw clenched, hiss smooth sailing out and into the air.

He’s moving slow like you asked him, but his hips are digging deep, really giving you the type of passion that glazes your eyes, ears heating, whimpers broken as your fingers press into him. He’s as close as can be but you need him closer, but you’re not really sure what you’re looking for with your fingers, what you’re digging for. Maybe some grounding? Yeah, that’s what it feels like. That’s what shuddered breaths and parted lips tell you anyways. ‘You need grounding’, because he’s determined to imprint himself inside you, mold you to him, make your tight heat recommit him to memory till it’s unrecognizable where you end and he begins.

He’s heavy, within and without, a strong, uncompromising force rocking into you so perfect every time. Your wetness pooling with every filling push of his hips, sounding sweet. “You make me feel so full baby”.

He’s fluid still, the delicious grind he works into you at a steady pace. Thats it, that’s it, that’s it, a mumbling chant parting off his lips, close to yours. They meet and fall off your own, tongues slipping lazy, coming together with every push of his length, walls slick and warm as they hug him in, pulling and sucking so fucking good before his waist rears back, lips breaking for just a moment, before he’s home again. Your foreheads are a resting place for the other, right hand of yours meeting his chest, the other nailing gentle at the nape of his neck. “You’re always so good to me”. He’s at your ear again, whispers soft, but still ringing so loud, your thigh gripped in his left hand, his body anchored on the weight of his arm at the right, the digging turned into a brute snap. “So good for me”. His hearts pounding hard, matching the beat of yours, you feel it, like thunder under your touch. “Fuck”, the slim ring of golden brown in his eye meeting yours. “I’m never letting you go”.

A tear slips slim off to the side of your cheek, pressure in your belly building strong. “I love you EZ”.

He thinks it’s enough, hearing it the one time. It rises, saturates his skin, breaks him down, builds him back up, makes him whole, and then it dissipates. He needs it again. “Say it again. Tell me you love me”.

You hold him close, lips brushing. It’s sweeter this way, always has been, always will be. “I love you baby, I love you so much”.

A tear and a whimper, but it isn’t yours. Another kiss brushing your lips, thigh tight in his hold. “I love you so fucking much”, trembling between the gentle intensity of another whimper and the soft sincerity of a whisper. Either way, it’s truth all the same.

His hips rear back again, hitting once, twice, and then a third final time. The coils winding in your bellies unraveling sharp. Bodies burning in white hot bliss.

Falling and flying face first into heaven and earth. It’s amazing.

#ez reyes #ezekiel reyes #ez reyes x reader #ezekiel reyes x reader #mayans mc #soft #fluff #joannasteez

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justafewsmallsteps · 3 years

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A look into LadyNoir for my Reversal AU, The Other Way Around. You don’t really need to read the other parts to get this one :)

Title: The Other Way Around, Part 3 Pairing: Lovesquare (LadyNoir) Rating: G+ Word Count: 2.5K

The first time Marinette really interacted with a cat was at a friend’s house. She was six years old at her very first sleepover. Nervous and shy, she’d spent the majority of the evening worrying about what would happen once the lights were out. She’d never had to sleep through a night without her parents or family with her. No amount of cartoons or pillow fights could fully ease the fear of impending darkness.

The other three girls seemed totally adjusted and excited, but Marinette could hardly eat dinner even though it was pizza from their favorite spot. Then she nearly burst into tears at the table when they served the cookies her parents had sent with her, overwhelmed with missing them so badly. With her eyes stinging and her voice ready to cry out that they should call home to pick her up, Button the cat suddenly sprung onto her lap. She was a fluffy tan thing with two black dots going down the center of her back, hence her name. In that moment she looked just like a chocolate chip cookie, albeit one that blinked up at Marinette’s face with huge, adorable brown eyes. The cat smooshed her head against the girl’s stomach, sat down, and began to purr. In her surprise and fascination, young Marinette forgot what she was so upset over.

She never had pets growing up—the hair was too much to maintain when her family also lived in a bakery—so she hadn’t any courage to approach Button before, even when the other girls had spent time petting her. She knew cats had claws and their yawns revealed sharp, pointy teeth. The last thing she wanted was to get scratched or bitten when she was already terrified. Cats had been a scary mystery. Button was small and fluffy and warm. The moment she cuddled up to her, Marinette fell in love.

After that day, cats became her favorite animal, and while she still wasn’t allowed to have one (despite the begging and puppy eyes that her mother valiantly fought against with gentle reasoning), Marinette surrounded herself with them as a good luck charm. She had kitty keychains, plush toys, cat-covered folders to take to class, and cat-print bedsheets. The obsessive phase lasted for three years, but the fondness stayed even when her room took on a pink and floral theme to match her changing design aesthetic. Obviously when she found the giant body pillow shaped like a cat, she knew she had to have it anyway. After long days of dealing with Chloe’s yapping and her own special trademark combination of back luck and clumsiness, hugging that massive squishy cat became her ultimate comfort.

That was, until another cat fell into her lap. Well, crashed into her entire body was more what happened.

When she was gifted her miraculous, Marinette thought herself a poor fit for a superhero. She liked leadership positions and really didn’t have a big problem taking charge when needed, but saving lives was a ton of pressure. She’d thrown her yoyo randomly, not sure of a single move she made, and in doing so managed to tangle her partner and herself up despite the superpowers. Chat Noir seemed more natural, and surely he deserved a partner that had the confidence to match his skills instead of her. Marinette was stuck in her head with apprehension. She’d totally screwed up her very first mission by letting the akuma multiply instead of purifying it. She wasn’t excited to be a hero. She was terrified.

Maybe it was the cat bias that made her instantly trust Chat Noir, but it was the way he put his warm hands so squarely on her shoulders and assured her that she could do this, that made her fall in love. It was the second time a cat had saved her from giving in to her fears.

He gave her the courage to stand up to Hawkmoth, and the moment she vowed to take him down was a triumph of bravery. She wouldn’t have been able to do that without him.

Of course she fell for him.

He didn’t make it any easier for her as they got closer. He was just so endearingly sweet, throwing compliments at her all the time for encouragement.

If only she didn’t turn into an absolute pile of goo whenever he did. At least she was always able to pull herself together to get the job done, but it was his fault. What could anyone expect from her when her partner was talented, smart, super handsome, and somehow humble about all of it?

She’d witnessed how he avoided the spotlight in favor of checking up with akuma victims. She’d seen him time after time go out of his way to protect others, especially her, from harm’s way. And after he did all those things he’d throw her the credit as if she was the one saving the day.

They worked together well, reading each other’s moves and adapting to each other’s pace. But he never needed the attention, happy to just get the mission done. It was a side of him that she got to see when the crowds weren’t looking, proud at what they’d accomplished while holding his fist out to hers in solidarity to say, “We did it!” Together. Always together.

But then their miraculouses would beep, and they’d have to go their separate ways with her casting lingering glances towards whichever horizon he’d disappear off to.

At least during some of their mutual patrols they had time to talk. She looked forward to each one, no matter what other responsibilities she had waiting for her once it was over. Getting to know her partner was such a highlight to her identity as Ladybug. There was the triumph of victory, the thrill of the physics defying feats she could accomplish, the heartwarming gratitude of the citizens… and then there was this: sitting at the top of the Eiffel with their feeting dangling in the cool Parisian air, aimlessly talking above a safe city set aglow with evening lights; the warm sense of security yet tingling excitement of hanging out with her one and only crush.

“Favorite hot drink?” she wondered.

Asking non-identifying questions was their way of bonding without compromising themselves.

Chat Noir hummed thoughtfully over a cookie—raspberry macarons, a favorite she had learned fairly early on. “The hot chocolate you brought in the winter was great. Probably the best I’ve ever had, actually.”

She blushed and kicked her feet nervously. She swore that she would’ve tripped if they’d been walking. Somehow his compliments did that to her. “T-thanks.”

He grabbed another macaron and turned it over, studying the ruffled feet as he added, “Otherwise I’m really fond of tea. My mother liked English high tea; always insisted we have a tea break at some point in the day. When I was a kid I was only in it for the cookies and sandwiches, but at this point I like the drink too. It's nostalgic.”

He always got wistful when he spoke about his mother, but Marinette knew that train of thought would lead them to somewhere too personal. It wasn’t that she didn’t yearn to know more about him. Quite the opposite, but they both knew that it wasn’t safe yet. There had been too many close calls. She followed up with another question. “Any tea in particular?”

“Earl grey, usually. I’m a fan of London Fogs over coffee.”

She smiled down, looking at her home’s direction. They had a lovely macaron with that flavor as well, she thought. She could bring him a variety box next time. Maybe one day they could do tea together in some fashion. A picnic, perhaps? High tea during an evening patrol seemed a bit strange, but she could always brew him a decaf in a thermos so he wouldn’t be hopped up on caffeine. Or maybe that was too much if she was already bringing the same flavor in a cookie. Did hot chocolate go well with earl grey? What about the raspberry? Plenty of people ordered a variety of flavors all the time. Maybe she should throw in a few others for balance, like the rose ones. Wait, were rose flavored macarons too romantic? Would it seem like a date if she brought him flower-flavored food? Not that she didn’t want to date him because of course she did but—

“Deep in thought, Ladybug?”

Chat Noir’s twinkling green eyes greeted her, just a few centimeters from her face. He must have been trying to get her attention for a while.

Surprised, she suddenly scooted back and flailed. “Oh!” Thankfully she was securely seated on the beam enough to not begin a sad plummet to the ground. Desserts were well and good, but she’d prefer to avoid becoming a polka dotted pancake. “Yes, sorry! Did you say something?”

He laughed his magical laugh, accustomed to her tendency to get lost in her own head. “No need to apologize. I was just saying that it was my turn to ask a question before we turn in for the night.”

Ah, was it already time to go back? Sheepishly, the heroine smiled. “Did you already ask it?”

A flash of teeth showed off his mirthful grin. “I did.”

“Sorry.” He had already told her not to apologize, but it was embarrassing that she was fantasizing about dating him when he was literally sitting besides her. “What was it again?”

“I asked if you’ve been on a date lately, Little Lady.”

Oh.

Her mind short-circuited. Had she been babbling out loud? How desperate had she sounded? “What? Me! Doing to date you? I mean, going on a date with someyou? Someone!”

If her slip up meant anything, he didn’t acknowledge it. He never did. Did she want him to?

“Yep. Like a romantic one-on-one date. I, uh,” he bashfully scratched the back of his neck, “I’ve been thinking about it lately.”

A rush of blood warmed her cheeks. “Y-you were?” Thinking about dating someone? Her? Them? Romantically!

He avoided her eyes, choosing to look up instead as he laughed nervously. “For a while now. I don’t even think I could, but there’s a girl…”

I’m a girl, her brain supplied with excitement.

“You can’t ask her?”

He clicked his tongue. “There’s a few conflicts. First of all, I don’t know how she really feels about me, and… I don’t know how to say the other part without really giving anything away.”

Ladybug pursed her lips and gave him time, either out of courtesy or because she was freaking out and incapable of speech.

“Um, it’s like… an occupational issue, I guess. I don’t know if I’d be allowed, in a sense. Then there’s the issue that I know nearly nothing about dating,” he explained.

For all his vagueness, she fit his description enough. She’d never outright confessed to being in love with him, so he didn’t know her feelings. Also they weren’t really supposed to date with all their responsibilities, and wasn’t that just part of their job as heroes? So for all intents and purposes, Chat Noir really could have been talking about her. The possibility made her head spin.

Her hope was strung on a tightrope; a precarious position that could go either way. She could ask him directly if he meant someone in his civilian life or if by some miracle he was talking about her—or she could stay on the precipice between disappointment and bliss. But for all her clumsiness, Marinette preferred balance whenever she could manage it. So she stayed her course, eyes far from looking down at the possibilities and instead on the objective: answer him.

“I haven’t been on a real date recently, no.”

She looked for any hint about his feelings in his response, any indication that he was relieved or just pitied her. He simply nodded, leaving her clueless as she continued to walk the tightrope.

“Same,” he let out a whiny sigh. “I guess I can’t really ask for advice then. I’m terrible when it comes to romance.”

She traced one of her spots with a gloved finger, trying to keep a clear mind despite the slight relief that her crush wasn’t out on dates all the time. “I doubt it. You’re so amazing, you’d make any girl really happy and lucky to be with you.” Saying those words aloud had her face feeling as red as her suit.

“Luck is your department, LB,” he grinned. “I imagine admirers are chasing you left and right.”

“Not in any serious manner,” Adrien’s corny and outlandish attempts to get her attention came to mind. He was just a flirt by nature, hardly what someone would consider a real admirer. “I… I’d be happy to go on a date with somebody who really liked me though.”

He gave her a thoughtful look that made her pause.

She stood up suddenly. “I mean, not just anybody! Like… if I knew they actually liked me, then I might give it a chance? Depending on the person.”

Chat Noir smiled again, patiently letting her ramble as usual.

She took a deep breath to collect herself. “It doesn’t matter how experienced you are with dating, at least that’s what I think. If she’s a nice person then she’ll also understand and you’ll both get through it together. You just have to be yourself.”

“You’re right as always, Little Lady,” he sighed. Her stomach did a flip at the soft sound of his voice. “You know, you do give the best advice.”

Balance, she reminded herself. Tightrope.

But he spoke again, “I can always count on you to cheer me up if things go wrong, can’t I?”

The words were kind—like a soft breeze—which was just enough to throw off her careful, barely established balance; just enough information to tip her over to the fact that he must have been talking about some other girl if at the end of the day he could still find comfort in her, his partner.

And so she fell. Or, well, she’d fallen for him a long time ago. What did she expect? Something happier, she’d hoped. Something more similar to catching herself with her yo-yo, lifting back up to soar instead of her hopes tumbling down.

“Ladybug?”

She took a second to glance down at the ground where her heart felt like it had dropped. From their high position on the Eiffel, it was a long way down. For how much she loved him, she wasn’t sure just how her heart would break. Shatter like glass? Crumble to pieces? Or would it plummet and dent the floor because it certainly felt as heavy as lead when she turned to face Chat Noir, an achingly sweet melancholy painted on face as he smiled at her.

“Of course you can count on me. You and me against it all,” she assured, holding out her hand to help him up. It was time to go, after all.

He grinned as he stood, “Everything from akumas to heartbreak.”

She gave a weak laugh in reply. “Good night, Chat.”

“Good night, Little Lady.”

#miraculous ladybug #ladynoir #chat noir #ladybug #justafewsmallsteps #Jelly art #the other way around #Reversal au #Jelly fic

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carewyncromwell · 3 years

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“Uptown girl -- You know I can't afford to buy her pearls, But maybe someday when my ship comes in, She'll understand what kind of guy I've been, And then I'll win!”

~“Uptown Girl” by Billy Joel

x~x~x~x

Bill Weasley had always had trouble relating to kids his age. As the oldest of seven kids, he’d pretty quickly slipped into the role of support for his mother Molly, parenting and looking after his younger siblings while his father Arthur was at work in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office. Even when he was little, there wasn’t really anyone his age in his tiny hometown of Ottery St. Catchpole. All of the other magical families with kids in the area were much younger than Bill, and it was always a tricky proposition trying to play with the Muggle children who lived closest to the Burrow, with the Statute of Secrecy looming large. So when Bill got to Hogwarts, he found himself almost inevitably falling back on how he acted around his younger siblings, even with kids his own age...which, in turn, made Bill lose his footing, when those kids his age didn’t respond well to being coddled or “looked after.” And given Bill’s rather modest, people-pleasing personality, he wasn’t the type to force anyone to listen to him or do what he said...and so, almost inevitably, he found himself at a loss about how to interact with someone without looking after them in some way, on completely equal footing. And thus Bill Weasley, sweet and amiable as he was, actually found himself largely alone in those first two years he spent at Hogwarts -- and that solitude was something he found out pretty quickly he really didn’t like.

Bill was relieved when his younger brother Charlie started his first year at Hogwarts. Although Bill had trouble admitting to his family just how unhappy he’d been those last two years, the eldest Weasley was secretly relieved that he’d now have some family at school too. He had always been closest to Charlie out of all of his siblings, given their closeness in age, so it was comforting to know he’d at least have one friend to spend time with, when he wasn’t in class. Charlie’s year, however, also included a ginger-haired Slytherin girl called Cromwell -- the same surname as the infamous “delinquent” Jacob Cromwell, who’d been expelled from Hogwarts and disappeared mysteriously a few years ago.

Bill first heard about Jacob Cromwell’s sister Carewyn through Charlie, who’d heard that she’d stood up to another Slytherin in their year, Merula Snyde, for bullying Charlie’s timid dormmate Ben Copper and even defeated her in a duel with a Disarming Charm, a spell not taught until at least Bill’s year. Despite himself, Bill actually felt a bit relieved -- he hadn’t known Jacob Cromwell at all, but he figured it had to have been really difficult, for someone to lose their only sibling. Even if he didn’t know Carewyn Cromwell at all, he couldn’t help but feel sorry for her...but at least if she was still confident enough to stand up for herself and others, then it probably meant she was doing okay, even with what had happened to her and her family. And his analysis seemed to be confirmed when Carewyn sought Bill out to get his help the following year with breaking the curse on the Ice Vault. From the moment they first met, Bill made up his mind -- Carewyn Cromwell needed someone to look after her, so he would, until she found her brother again. And so Bill and Carewyn became friends.

In Bill’s fifth year, he was named Gryffindor Prefect. It was a rather obvious choice for Minerva McGonagall, considering Bill’s predisposition to “look after” and mentor younger students, but it still filled Arthur and Molly Weasley with immense pride. It was also the first year that Bill and Charlie invited Carewyn home for the holidays, upon hearing that her mother Lane had been commissioned by the Ministry of Magic for an international assignment and wouldn’t be able to be home in time for Christmas. When he heard Merula Snyde also wouldn’t have anyone to spend the holidays with, Bill made the remarkably kind move to invite her to the Burrow as well, even with Charlie and Carewyn’s misgivings -- but that holiday ended up being one of the best all four of them had ever had. Merula and Carewyn were even able to mend fences enough to sing Christmas carols together, the first’s clear Soprano voice hovering ethereally over the second’s warm, emotional Alto harmonies. That Christmas was also the year Carewyn gave Bill his very first record -- an album called An Innocent Man, by an Muggle artist named Billy Joel. Arthur Weasley was almost more thrilled by the gift than his son was, and he immediately brought out the Muggle record player he’d...”been allowed to take home” from work so Carewyn could show the Weasleys how to play the record on it. And for the rest of the winter break, it wasn’t uncommon for one of the Weasleys to put the record on in the background while doing dishes or playing a game of Wizard’s Chess in front of the fire. The song from the record Bill found himself humming the most, even after returning to Hogwarts, was the first song on side two of the record. He’d liked the tune immediately just because it was fun...but it also reminded him of a girl in his year he’d been trying to muster up the courage to talk to -- a very pretty and daring Gryffindor named Emily Tyler.

“And when she's walking, she's looking so fine, And when she's talking, she'll say that she's mine... She'll say I'm not so tough, Just because I'm in love with an uptown girl!”

Emily Tyler was the most popular girl in Bill’s year, as well as one of the most popular in Gryffindor house overall. She’d made a name for herself at the Dueling Club, where she remained Gryffindor’s main champion -- it was likely only thanks to Hufflepuff’s own dueling prodigy, Diego Caplan, that Emily had any competition at all. She also was top of her class in Defense Against the Dark Arts, Bill’s favorite and best subject, even managing to Stun an entire flock of bats with one spell. And coupled with that talent was a lot of style, confidence, and ability to captivate and charm others. She never seemed uncomfortable in a crowd and never seemed to be at a loss for words around her peers -- something Bill himself still struggled with. She’d even expressed some interest in Cursebreaking post-Hogwarts, gushing about the acclaim and glamour of the profession. In short, in Bill’s eyes, Emily just seemed amazing -- a bit out of his league, sure...but maybe if he was brave and put himself out there, she might give him a chance!

So one day, right around spring break, Bill passed Emily a note in Defense Against the Dark Arts, asking her to meet him in the castle courtyard. The eldest Weasley was kind of an emotional wreck on the inside, absolutely beside himself with nerves, but he put on his bravest face anyway. He’d even brought a pink rose, which he tried to keep out of sight in his back pocket until Emily arrived. It was the flower that caught Carewyn’s eye, when she was passing through the castle courtyard.

The third-year Slytherin had been planning on meeting up with Ben and Rowan in the library so they could study up for an upcoming Charms test, but she put that on hold, seeing her friend Bill sitting alone in the courtyard, as if waiting for someone. Normally she would've gone over to say hello, but the pink rose in Bill’s pocket made her give pause -- a fortunate thing too, for not long later, Bill shot to his feet as Emily Tyler entered the courtyard. She was dressed head-to-toe in bright pink, with her dark hair tied up in a high ponytail and her makeup impeccably neat. She wasn’t alone -- several other boys and girls were with her, all talking to her animatedly. They reluctantly waited for her at the edge of the courtyard, their eyes locked on her as she approached Bill. The scrutiny from Emily’s cohorts clearly intimidated Bill, but he didn’t let it rattle him. He faced his crush with the best smile he could.

“Hi, Emily,” he greeted. “Thanks for coming -- I know you’re pretty busy with the Dueling Club...”

“I am,” assented Emily. Her voice was matter-of-fact.

Bill gave a weak, uncomfortable laugh. “Well, uh...I won’t take up too much of your time, then. I just wanted to...er...”

He took the pink rose out of his back pocket and offered it to her. Emily blinked down at it in surprise.

“I wanted to...give this to you,” said Bill with a modest smile. “Pink is your favorite color, I’ve heard. Not that I’ve been eavesdropping on you or anything,” he said very quickly, “I just heard you tell one of your friends that once, last month, and...”

Carewyn felt very uncomfortable, listening to this. Deciding at once that the whole thing really wasn’t her business and that Bill deserved his privacy, she turned to go. She probably would’ve walked away, were it not for how disdainful Emily's voice sounded, when she spoke.

“Is this...some sort of confession?”

Carewyn immediately stopped and turned back around. Emily was looking from her friends on the sidelines to Bill, her face twisted in a very critical, flabbergasted sort of look.

Bill, to his credit, somehow managed to keep a weak smile on, even as her brought up a hand to rub behind his neck uncomfortably.

“Well, uh...yes! I guess so. I...was sort of hoping we might be able to hang out sometime...maybe get some butterbeers in Hogsmeade or something -- ”

Emily’s eyes had widened little by little with every word out of Bill’s mouth until, finally, she brought them to an abrupt halt when she started to laugh.

“You -- you’re serious?” she said incredulously. She glanced over to her friends on the sidelines and then around the rest of the courtyard, as if expecting someone to jump out from behind a nearby pillar. “This is a joke, right? Tell me this is a joke.”

Her laugh and slightly louder voice had caught the attention of some other students close by. Her friends over by the entrance of the courtyard were exchanging disbelieving looks and whispers among themselves.

Bill’s smile faded.

“A joke?” he repeated blankly. “No -- it’s not a -- ”

Emily fixed Bill with a rather pitying, condescending look as she slipped the pink rose out of his hand.

“Look, Bill,” she said very coolly, “you’re cute and all -- but you really think you’re my type? You’re a Weasley. Prefect or no, you’re still a blood traitor in messy, second-hand clothes with younger students always tagging along after you like ducklings and a father who chases after Muggle airplanes and scooters rather than work a job that can pay the bills.”

She carelessly dropped the pink rose in the fountain and turned her back on him.

“Maybe actually make something of yourself, and then we can talk.”

Carewyn had been furious at the things Emily Tyler had said -- but it was the absolutely devastated, heartbroken look on Bill’s darkly flushing face that made her snap. In an instant, the third-year Slytherin had barreled right up to the pink-dressed Gryffindor as she rejoined her snickering friends at the side of the courtyard.

“How dare you!”

Emily’s friends all stopped laughing to look down at Carewyn.

“Excuse me?” said Emily, looking down at the much smaller girl with a very condescending eye.

“Bill bared his heart to you just now, and you don’t even care!” Carewyn said fiercely. “Talking about his family being poor and liking Muggle things as if it’s something to be ashamed of...clearly Bill couldn’t have liked you for your personality, because it’s disgusting!”

Emily’s nose wrinkled as she glanced around at her friends. “I don’t think anyone’s surprised you’d throw in your lot with a Weasley, Cursebreaker kid. Your family’s got even less reputation to be proud of -- not to mention your clothes are just as out-of-date as theirs are.”

The boys in the group all gave a low “ooh,” sniggering among themselves.

“Well, fortunately, unlike you, I could care less about my reputation,” Carewyn spat. “And I’m frankly glad of it! Bill is a kind, hardworking person who always puts others first and puts his whole heart into everything he does! If his family’s reputation makes it so you can’t appreciate any of that, then I’d say you’re the one who needs to ‘make something of yourself’ -- ”

“Carey.”

Carewyn felt a hand coming down on her shoulder, almost holding her back. She looked up, to see Bill standing over her. His gaze was locked on Carewyn rather than Emily and his face was very scarlet, but his voice was low and forcibly level.

“Don’t worry about it,” he mumbled.

Carewyn looked at him with concern. “Bill...”

“It’s okay,” said Bill. He forced a thoroughly unconvincing smile. “Let’s just go.”

Carewyn stared at Bill for a long moment, feeling very reluctant to let the issue go. Her eyes then fell away, drifting away -- it seemed they’d acquired an audience, in the rest of the students scattered around the courtyard.

Bill would probably be even more embarrassed, if I escalated things further, she thought guiltily.

Exhaling quietly, Carewyn shot one more very dirty look in Emily’s direction and walked off with Bill. As they walked off, some of Emily’s friends shouted taunts after them.

“‘Mother Duck’ Weasley strikes again!”

“Follow along after Mama, little duckling!”

Carewyn forced herself to keep walking and not turn around. She shot a furtive glance at Bill, and saw that he was doing the exact same thing, even with the ruby red flush in his cheeks and the slight shine to his eyes.

Carewyn followed Bill out of the courtyard, down the hall, through the large double doors, and out onto the castle grounds. The eldest Weasley seemed to be walking with no destination in mind, his gaze endless and his steps aimless. Carewyn could practically feel the misery, shame, hurt, and embarrassment coming off of her friend, and it made her heart hurt. Her gaze fell to her feet as they walked side-by-side together.

“...I guess...it was her, wasn’t it?”

Bill straightened up. He’d clearly forgotten for a moment that Carewyn was there.

“Huh?” he said, before uncomfortably adding, “...W-who?”

“Who you were thinking about, whenever ‘Uptown Girl’ came on.”

Bill flushed a dark red. “What? No, I...what makes you...think there was anyone I was...?”

“Oh, come on, Bill,” said Carewyn with a pitying look. “Your eyes were always so bright, whenever side two started up. I thought...well, there had to be something special you were thinking about, when you heard that one. Even if it wasn’t a specific person...it just felt like that song was something that spoke to you, I guess...”

She offered him a weak, sad smile.

“...It kind of reminded me of when I sing certain songs. Like even if the words are someone else’s, you can sing them like they’re all yours.”

Bill considered Carewyn for a minute. Then, his flush darkening further, he bowed his head.

“...Yeah. I suppose that’s true.”

He gave a low sigh.

“...What did I do wrong, Carewyn?” he asked. “Did I come on too strong? Should I have sent her a note, or asked to meet her somewhere more private?”

Carewyn whirled on Bill with an incredulous look. “What? Bill, you didn’t do anything wrong!"

“Sure feels like it,” mumbled Bill.

Carewyn stopped right in front of Bill, putting her hands on her hips and fixing him with a very reproachful look.

“You listen to me, William Weasley,” she said fiercely. “I may not know anything about that snobbish twit -- ”

“Emily Tyler.”

“ -- I may not know much of anything about her, but I know you, and I know you deserve so much better than how she treated you. Even if she doesn’t feel the same way about you as you do about her, there’s no excuse for how cruel she was to you...all clearly just to save face around those awful friends of hers...”

Bill blinked in surprise. “You reckon?”

“Yeah,” said Carewyn. “She kept glancing at her friends, the whole time. She rejected you that soundly because she thought they wouldn’t approve of you.”

Seeing the look on Bill’s face, she added, “But that shouldn’t matter, Bill! If Emily thinks impressing her friends is more important than being a decent human being, that’s her problem. And if her so-called ‘friends’ are the sort of people who look down their noses at good people like your family...well, clearly Emily Tyler’s a rotten judge of character.”

Bill looked a bit comforted by Carewyn’s words. He tried to smile again, but it still looked halfhearted at best.

“Thanks, Carey,” he said lowly. “It’s just...well, she’s just so amazing. Talented and pretty and perfectly brilliant -- you should see her in Defense Against the Dark Arts, I reckon she’s on the NEWT level already. She even said she might like being a Cursebreaker, when she graduates -- travel everywhere, and become world-famous...”

Carewyn brought a hand onto Bill’s shoulder and gave it a supportive squeeze. It felt a little odd: he hadn’t really talked to anyone about his feelings for Emily, and just talking his feelings out, rather than listening to someone else’s...it was something he could only really ever remember doing with his parents, and only occasionally. It was weird, but it felt...nice.

“I just...didn’t think she’d react like that,” Bill admitted. “Not that I expected I’d sweep her off her feet or anything, but...I’d sort of hoped that she’d give me a chance, and that when we went out, we’d get on, and maybe even hit it off...”

He sighed heavily.

“Guess I really don’t know much about love at all, do I?”

Carewyn frowned deeply. “That’s not true at all! You know plenty about love. You love your brothers and Ginny, and your parents...and you love your friends too!”

“That’s really not the same thing,” said Bill.

“It should be,” huffed Carewyn. “Love is love. If you love someone, you care about their happiness more than your own. Sure, maybe when you marry someone, there’s a lot more kissing and you want to have kids together and stuff like that...but well, the important part is that caring, right? Without that, what does the rest of that stuff matter?”

Bill’s face softened slightly.

“...I guess you’re right. And I guess...when I am looking for that person...I should find somebody who’ll care about my happiness just as much as I do theirs.”

Carewyn nodded with a smile. “Definitely.”

She took Bill’s hand.

“And maybe someday when your ship comes in,” she sang brightly, “she’ll understand what kind of guy you’ve been...”

Bill’s face flushed again, but this time it wasn’t out of embarrassment -- this time, it was accompanied by a bright, touched look in his brown eyes.

“And then I’ll win,” he finished, in a much less trained, gravelly singing voice than Carewyn’s.

Carewyn beamed. She walked on ahead, pulling lightly at Bill’s hand so as to coax him to walk next to her.

“And when she knows what she wants from her tiiiiime~...”

Bill gave a laugh, but followed Carewyn’s lead, recalling the words by heart.

“And when she wakes up and makes up her miiiiind~...”

Soon Carewyn and Bill were back toward the castle, swinging their linked hands idly back and forth as they sang the rest of the song together, getting louder and louder with each line.

“She'll see I'm not so tough, Just because I'm in love with an uptown girl! You know, I've seen her in her uptown world -- She's getting tired of her high-class toys And all her presents from her uptown boys.... She's got a choice! Whoa, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh! Whoa, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh!”

Before long, all the two thought of while singing that song was hanging out together and being silly, while not caring what anyone else thought. Not a single word of the song brought Emily Tyler back to Bill’s mind -- and in the years to come, Bill would continue to enjoy the song with no negative connotations whatsoever, instead only remembering when Carewyn and he sang it at the top of their lungs to make him feel better. And that moment did indeed signal a shift in the dynamic between Carewyn and Bill. For Carewyn, it made her feel like she was walking home with Jacob again -- like she had an older brother who she could look after, the way she used to for Jacob. And for Bill, it made him feel like he’d acquired a second younger sister -- one who emotionally supported him the same way he did his real siblings.

One thing was for sure, though -- it was this moment, among many others to come, that cemented Bill and Carewyn as the very best of friends.

x~x~x~x

Tagging @the-al-chemist and @oneirataxia-girl for expressing interest in this prompt! 🤗

Carewyn’s dress is based on the design on the left 💗

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #bill weasley #carewyn cromwell #emily tyler #charlie weasley #my art #my writing #bill's secret #BILL MY BOY #I love you so much <33 #I went out of my way to try to write in some logic to how emily behaves that has links to her gryffindor placement #namely her desire for glory and to be well-regarded #it also would explain why bill didn't pick up on how terrible she was at first #she looks down on people who are below her specifically #around equals or people she wants to impress she'd be nicer #since bill has watched her from afar he wouldn't pick up on that :(#but yeah I felt like carey-bear just HAD to reclaim that song so that it didn't have to be something bill associated with emily forever #and yeah now it's something special between them as bffs!!#and bill does eventually find his own 'uptown girl' to marry <33 #(either carewyn's 'slytherin sister' jules farrier or fleur delacour depending on the canon >D)

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impala1967dwinchester · 3 years

Text

Sam Winchester: Poetry, my love

*credit to the gif owner*

Pairing: Sam x Y/n/ Reader

Pov: Sam

Warnings: Sweet moments, Sam writing, Sam falling in love with the reader, Mention of Sams past relationship (With Jessica), Internal monologue, (Quick mention of Dean), Love confession.

Summary: Sam tries to write poems. All of which end up being about or for Y/n, and all of them are about just how much Sam truly loves her.

A/N- All of these poems are from Pinterest!

Word Count: 1.9k

Masterlist

Taglist: @sweetdetectivequeen

I remember when I was in middle and high school, how much I thrived in English class. I love to read, but because I’ve read so much in my life. I’ve found out recently that I absolutely love to write.

I love to write little blurb of what a hunt was like, and I’ve taken up journaling. Some people might say that writing things out can make them come alive, but I I personally think that once it out on paper, then it kind of cleans the mind. Declutter my head if you will.

Going through my phone my eyes landed on Pinterest. It wasn’t an app I used very often, but I clicked on it anyway. Going through the process of making an account it asked me what I liked and my interest. I assumed based off what I choose the app would give me different things to look at in my feed.

That is exactly what happened. A few motivational words popped up, and I scrolled through, then a few quotes popped up. But what really caught my attention was the search bar. I wanted to see what other people thought about writing so that’s what I put in the search bar.

I scrolled for a few minutes, and then the word ‘Poems’ popped up. After the years that I’d been writing not once had I tired doing poetry, so I clicked on it. The first poem that was in the stream said the following;

The most

beautiful part is,

I wasn’t even looking

when I found you.

Man, that was so calming and peaceful. A true statement. It made me think of Y/n. The way she just was placed into our life, I hadn’t been looking. I stopped looking when after Jessica died.

I stopped thinking that i deserved to find love. I stopped believing I was worth it. But that was all before Y/n came into my life. She was sweetest person you’ll ever met. She always wears a smile regardless of how bad a situation could get.

She is nerdy like me, she loved to read through the lore books, making it an effort to help me when I couldn’t quite figure something out on my own. The thing about Y/n is she wasn’t just like me, she disappears for hours, in the kitchen cooking with Dean, or making pie for him. She is the best thing to come into our lives since forever.

Again, I started to read through posts on Pinterest. I wondered how many of these posts were meant to be about the girl of someone dreams. I scrolled through seeing a ton of different poems. Some were sad, about how breakable a women’s heart really is. Some on the other hand were about falling in love with the girl of your dreams.

Another poem said;

If you look carefully,

She’s slowly falling in love with you,

But she doesn’t want you to find out,

Well, not yet.”

This makes me think even more about Y/n. Does she love me? Is she falling in love with me and doesn’t want me to find out? Is she falling in love with me, like I am with her? I have so many questions that I couldn’t possibly ask her.

I wonder if she sits in bed like I do and fantasize over her. I sound creepy, but I honestly want to know. I pay attention to her, and her actions. When she’s with Dean she isn’t touchy. When we’re on a hunt, she chooses to sleep in bed with me. She talks about everything with me. Let’s me in, let’s me comfort her.

Is this her way of saying I want to be with you Sam? I once again start to scroll through the feed, looking and reading through all the poems. Coming across another one, this one though made me stop and think. Made me realize a few things more about Y/n.

“Find Someone who makes you realize three things: One, that home is not a place, but a feeling. Two, that time is not measured by a clock, but by moments. And three, that heartbeats are not heard, but felt and shared.”

I realized all of those things when I thought of Y/n. When I was with Y/n no matter where we were I felt at home with her. We could be hundreds of miles away from the bunker, deep in a hunt. As long as she was there, I was happy, content, and at peace.

Number two took me a few times to really figure out. The first time I noticed it was our first Christmas with Y/n. She’d been with us for a whole year, and I couldn’t help but go out and get her something. I went to our local book store, and picked up 3 historical novels, based on what she’d read and what she had with her when she arrived at the bunker. When she opened her gifts, I couldn’t start to describe her smile. And then she dropped her books and run up to me, and crushed in her slender frame. This hug was different than others, the other hugs were ones that were in fear of losing each other, ones that were meant as apologies.

The second time I noticed it was Dean’s birthday. Y/n and I had gone out shopping for Dean first separate and then together. We wanted to get him a gift that suited him. We walked around the mall, both searching for the best store to choose from. “Oh Sammy... oops sorry I meant Sam. Look over there.” She spoke.

Moments like this where she was afraid to be like this way with me. “You can call me Sammy, Y/n. It doesn’t bother me when you do it.” I said involuntarily. I little blush rose to her cheeks, “Okay Sammy. There’s a store looks like a cowboy themed place.” She said walking towards the store.

Rarely would I do something out of my comfort zone, and not ask the other person. But before Y/n could get too far away from me, I grabbed her wrist and slipped our hands together. I made a quick excuse when she turned around and looked down at our hands and then me. “I just don’t want to get lost from you; this place does seem pretty huge.” I had said.

In moments when we were hurt in hunts. Moments where it seemed like we might say goodbye forever. I had Y/n in my arms in the back seat of the impala, she had a huge gash through her back, thankfully nothing had hit any vital organs or hit her spinal cord.

She sat in my lap her hands wrapped around my neck, our hearts pressed tightly together, I was grasping tightly to her. Trying to keep myself tethered to her. I focused on her breathing. Focused on the scent of the peach shampoo that still lingered in her hair.

I would see Dean looking in the back through the mirror. I didn’t have time to deal with his comments so i dropped my gaze, I was trying so hard to not break down, in front of my big brother or Y/n. Y/n needs a strong man, so that’s what I’ll be right now, just for her.

As i thought about past moments. I realized that I couldn’t keep the charade up anymore, about I felt towards Y/n. Making myself close out of the very calming app, I clicked on to the massaging app.

Sliding the small list of contacts, I did I have. I sent Dean an “goodnight” message before slipping out of our conversation and into Y/n and I conversation. I started to type and then deleted it.

I fell into this rhyme for a what seemed like an hour, of me saying how I felt and then deleting it. I received a “Good night bitch 😴” Message from Dean. I slide it off my screen refocusing on my message to Y/n.

Then all the sudden it clicked in my head. And I started typing my message out. Careful to phrase words the particular way.

“In you, I have finally found all I never dared dream I could deserve or have- the kind of love that is rare. Being known in a way that touches the deepest parts of me. Accepted in a way that blows my mind.”

I sent this part to her. I waited till she has read the massage. Then only a few moments later I saw a message from her pop up.

“Sammy what are you saying?” Y/n asked. So, I started to write the second part of my message.

“In you, Y/n the love I have always desired to give now has a place to call home, I hope? I have been skeptic, but you are my undeniable miracle. The questions don’t matter anymore.” I sent once again waiting for another message back from Y/n.

What I got surprised me. “Come to my room, Sammy.” She sent. I quickly uncovered myself from the thin blanket, and slipped on a Henley, along with my slippers.

I opened my door, and pretty much ran down the hall way, my phone still tightly placed in my hand. I slowed down as I made my way in front of Y/n’s door. I knocked and was granted access.

“Come in Sammy.” She said in her cute voice. I walked in, and shut the door softly. Before turning on my heels and standing still. “You can come over here and sit down with me Sammy.” So, I did as she said.

I walked over and sat down next to her. “So, Sammy, what did you mean by your message?” She asked grabbing my much larger hand with her much smaller hand.

I hadn’t ever noticed that, but instead of answering Y/n question I found our hands more interesting. “Sammy?” She said once again, but her voice was softer and quiet.

“I hope to god I’m not stepping over a boundary, but what I was trying to say was that I think... Wait No I know that I’ve fallen for you more deeply than I think I can understand. And I hope that you feel the same way?” I said rubbing my calloused thumb over the knuckles on her left hands.

“Sammy, I think I’ve fallen in love with you too.” Y/n said. Smiling showing off her bright eyes, and dimples on her cheeks.

“We have finally found each other, and that is enough. Right?” I said still a little worried I might say something wrong and ruin that whole moment.

“Yeah Sammy, I hop... I know that it’s enough, because when I’m with you I fell at peace and I wouldn’t want anything else then that.” She spoke. I brought my hand up to her cheek cupping it in my hand, and brought her close to my chest.

I kissed her lips, and god if it wasn’t the most intoxicating thing, I’ve ever tasted. I would be lying, she tasted like dark chocolate, and honey. Our lips didn’t fight for dominance, it was just a sweet kiss. Something that made this moment just so much more real.

“God, I love you so much Winchester.” Y/n said against my lips. I only smiled and whispered into her lips “I love you too, Y/L/N” “And don’t worry I’ll keep Dean from teasing the both of us.” I spoke.

Completed on : 03/14/2021

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anonniemousefics · 4 years

Text

Wildfire

Originally posted on Ao3

Fandoms: Six of Crows/Crooked Kingdom | Kaz + Inej

Word count: 5,566

****Rating: NSFW (aged-up characters) -- It’s good and smutty.****

This belongs in The Trouble With Wanting series, best read after These Damn Crosswinds.

TW for mentions of PTSD, sexual trauma. And also a cliffhanger, but only kinda. The rest is on Ao3 if you really can’t wait. I’m just slow at migrating this stuff over.

Synopsis: The morning after a difficult first night in Kaz's bed brings a number of surprises, both good and terrible.

Inej Ghafa lived for the moments when she could see something entirely new. It was the sea captain in her, the song of her soul that called to new horizons.

So it was a salve to her aching soul that morning to wake up first, to look across the great expanse of white sheets on Kaz Brekker’s enormous new bed, and see him sleeping peacefully there. She’d never seen this side of him before, looking so boyish, lying on his stomach, one cheek smooshed into the pillow. His dark hair was mussed across his forehead, and he was so still, she resisted the urge to lay a hand on his back muscles to check on him. But she knew better than to startle him with a brush of bare skin in the morning.

Instead, she rolled onto her back, drawing in a deep breath into her heartsick chest while she stared up at the newly-vaulted ceilings of Kaz’s renovated Slat. Her head throbbed as if she was hungover. She wiped a hand over her sandy eyelashes, a first attempt to wipe away the debris of a freshly opened wound.

She’d fallen asleep on top of the blankets, fully clothed, like a crazy woman. She rather wished she hadn’t. The bed was irresistibly comfortable, as evidenced by Kaz’s rare deep slumber, and it was big enough that she had been able to sleep so far from his body warmth that she may as well have slept alone. She wished she hadn’t needed that, too.

She wished a lot of things. This was not how she’d wanted to spend her first night in Kaz’s bed.

No one else would have noticed how excited Kaz was to show her the changes to The Slat, but Inej could see it, no matter how hard he tried to play it cool. She saw it in the way he bit the inside of his lip to hold back his smile, saw the light in his coffee-black eyes, the crooked quirk in his dark eyebrows. Kaz Brekker was happy. Whatever he’d done to The Slat had brought back a little spring in his step.

He had a newspaper slung under one arm as he rattled the skeleton key in the door’s lock. She jabbed at it, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Is your new spider really this bad?” she joked. “You’re having to buy papers like everyone else on the streets?”

She expected him to snark back, maybe tease her about spying for him again, but, instead, there was an almost imperceptible tension that arose. His jaw tightened. He swallowed a moment.

“Suspected firepox case was reported last night. It’s not right to send a spider out to confirm.” He said it as casually as if he was commenting on the weather, but Inej was already grabbing the paper from under his arm.

There was nothing the Kerch feared more than firepox. Highly contagious disease was the one thing their money couldn’t buy their way out of. And, of all rich Kerch men, Kaz had reason to fear it the most. No one else in Ketterdam knew its horrors like quite like Kaz.

Sure enough, the headlines plastering the Ketterdam Ledger above the fold were all about a single patient being quarantined in the capital’s hospital. Every word attempted to soothe rattled citizens that their mediks had the situation under control. There were no plans to sound the alarms yet.

And this is what she was gazing over when the sketch of a familiar face caught her eye and immediately froze her insides. They had stepped into The Slat, smelling of fresh wood floors and new paint, and somewhere in her, she knew she ought to have been looking it over, letting Kaz guide her through this grand unveiling, but now she was caught. She couldn’t look away from the horrible newsprint in front of her.

“Inej?” Kaz’s voice sounded like it was underwater. The perimeter of her vision grew fuzzy and grey, a tunnel surrounding the words on the page.

The headlines were calling the man the Butcher of the Barrel, and she would have known his face anywhere, even though Tante Heleen had never told her the names of her clients. The girls all grew quiet when he came to call, trying to press themselves into the darkness to avoid his gaze. He liked it when girls cried.

Now that seemed to be the least evil aspect of him.

Inej was looking over the names of the victims and didn’t feel her knees start to give out.

“Inej!” Kaz caught her by the forearms before she went down, holding her to his body. “Inej, what is it?”

She thrust a shaking arm at him, pushing the newspaper back into his hands. Sweat prickled across her forehead as she stepped back, her mind a whirl of suddenly vivid memories. She wrapped her arms around herself while Kaz looked over the headlines.

“This one?” he asked, holding up the sketch. “This murderer the Stadwatch arrested?”

Inej could only nod. She could smell the man’s foul scent even now, cheap ale and sausages and kitchen grease. She could feel his rough, thick hands against her bones, the ache of bruises he left behind. His slick, wet tongue in her ear, hissing the name Tante Heleen had given her. “Little Lynx. Are you going to cry, little Lynx?”

Kaz was folding up the paper, tossing it to his desk. His eyes had darkened, his lips pursed tight.

“I can take care of this.” From the low gravel in his voice, Inej knew he understood. At least half of it.

“Kaz.” Saints, was that her voice? She sounded like a small girl. “The murders he’s been charged with. The three girls.”

Kaz flicked a hard gaze her direction, already scheming.

“Lena. Nadya. Mayu. I knew them each, before they disappeared. They were all…” Why was her voice failing her so badly?

“The Menagerie,” Kaz said for her, and Inej nodded. Her chest felt tight, and she tried to draw in a breath.

“He picked his victims from The Menagerie, Kaz,” she choked. “I saw him there. He was--” She couldn’t say it. As much as she hated the memories, she hated even more for Kaz to remember what she had done there. Hot tears were coming fast now. “It could have been me. I could have--”

Kaz was rummaging through his desk drawer, dumping ammunition out across his desktop.

“Kaz.” She tried to make her voice sound stronger. “Kaz, stop.”

“You know this has to be done,” Kaz rasped. He barely glanced up as he loaded his revolver.

She did know. Men like this paid for the best lawyers, bribed judges, negotiated light sentences. Men like this blamed girls, claimed self-defense or accidents or amnesia, any absurdity but their own evil. Men like this deserved to bleed.

“Kaz,” she still chided.

“Do not ask me to be a better man to this filth,” Kaz snapped, sharply. “I am not, and I won’t. You should be giving me names--”

“They never gave me their names.” Something new was rising in Inej as her head spun and her face burned. Something furious. And her voice rose. “And even if they did, these are my scores to settle. You have no right to their names. You have no right to rob me of my justice.”

“They touched you.” Kaz’s face flushed a livid red, the sinew in his neck visible when he yelled. “They touched my--” But he stopped himself, mouth twitching. He planted his clenched fists on his desk as Inej glared at him, daring him to finish. “This is personal,” was all he said when he picked up his gun again.

This man. This infuriating man. One minute she loved him, the next minute she was ready to strangle him. How could he simultaneously be so clever and yet so stupid?

“It is not your score to settle,” Inej said, firmly, and then as he slipped the revolver in his pocket, she grew desperate. “If you leave tonight and deny me this, Kaz Brekker, I will never forgive you.”

Kaz’s glare was flint and steel when he froze, but she kept herself standing tall and firm. Finally, after what felt like ages inside a moment, he huffed a relinquishing sigh.

“What is it you want.” It didn’t come out as a question, and Inej felt raw from the entire exchange.

What did she want? She couldn’t say. Moments that had once felt long forgotten now crawled across her skin and licked at her ear. She felt small and helpless, a feeling she had worked for years to never feel again. She thought of the three girls, of Lena and Nadya and Mayu, and how they had cowered in fear of this butcher just as she had, how small and helpless they had been, too. How that was the last of this world they had known. She wanted to remember them differently. She wanted to rewrite their ending. She wanted moments they would all never have, moments killing this man tonight would never bring.

And Kaz stood, waiting with his jaw tight, oblivious and belligerent, and Inej felt the tears sting her eyes. It took only a moment for Kaz to become the unfortunate lightning rod for the storm brewing inside of her.

“You have the emotional intelligence of a bearded goat,” she seethed at him, her voice trembling, and she swore in Suli and crawled into bed.

“Why a bearded goat?” Kaz was the first to break the silence of the early morning. The gentle burr of his voice was thick and rumbly from sleep. When Inej looked at him, feeling considerably more tender than the night before, he still hadn’t opened his eyes, his bare arms shoved under his pillow.

“They have dumb faces,” Inej said.

“Because of the beard?” Kaz lifted his dark eyebrows, his sleep-swollen eyes still shut.

“Mhmm.”

“Got it.”

She watched him stretch and roll onto his back, groaning as joints in his bad leg cracked and complained. To his credit, he had not tried to fight further the night before. She wouldn’t have had the energy to anyway. The onslaught of visceral memories from The Menagerie had overwhelmed her completely, and her eyes had leaked silent tears while she waited for sleep’s escape. She’d been vaguely aware that Kaz had lain next to her, but she’d wanted nothing from him. At some point, they had both fallen asleep.

“Thank you for staying,” Inej said, in the light of the dawn. Kaz scrubbed his hands over his face with a deep sigh. He was rolling out his bad ankle in slow, painful circles beneath the white sheets.

“You were right,” he rasped after a moment, looking over the pillows at her and Inej blinked in surprise. The bed was enormous; he suddenly seemed so far away.

“I want that in writing,” Inej said, narrowing her eyes, and Kaz quirked a tired smirk as he rolled over on his side to face her. Inej felt drawn to the warmth in his sleepy, coffee-black eyes, the paradox of the delicate lashes that framed them.

“The thought of what they did to you,” he said, his voice tight, “that anyone could do that to you – I just --” He pushed his hair off his forehead as he scrambled for words. Inej found herself staring at the swell of his bicep. “I know it’s your score to settle. I know it’s your battle to fight. But I hate myself for not seeing you sooner. For not sparing you this. I’ve tried for years to make it right--”

“There is nothing in this for you to make right,” Inej interrupted. “We were kids.” She rolled to her side to face him.

“I was perfectly capable of ripping out throats then,” Kaz countered. “I was too blinded by revenge to see what was happening to you.”

“Is there nothing on this earth you won’t blame yourself for? You are not responsible for their choices, Kaz, nor should you be held responsible for stopping them. You were fifteen--”

“I was old enough to see what you were light and magic and everything good in the world. I was old enough to fall in love with you.” His words caught her breath in her throat. He’d put down his armor before, but never quite like this. “I was old enough to avenge you, too.”

“Kaz…” she breathed, and stretched out a hand across the expanse of bed between them. His expression still weighed heavy as he entwined their fingers, looking over her dark hand in his pale one.

“Do you know what I thought the moment I first saw you?” he asked, venturing a glance in her direction. Inej shook her head as she tucked one arm under her pillow.

“I thought to myself, ‘This girl could have killed me just now,’” Kaz went on, without a trace of jest. “Animals that are caged go one of two ways. They either end up lying in a corner and hiding from everything, or they start to rage and lash out and bite and tear at any hand that gets near them. And I saw that rage in you, and I knew I couldn’t risk you falling to the Dime Lions. I knew I needed you on my side.”

“So, it wasn’t love at first sight, is what you’re telling me.” Inej raised a wary eyebrow.

“I’m telling you that what happened to those girls could never have happened to you,” Kaz said. “I told you that you were dangerous, and I have always meant it. I’m willing to bet the butcher knew it, too. That’s…that’s all I should have said last night.”

Inej ran her thumb over his scarred knuckles, looking over their laced fingers and the weight of memories they both held. There was a time when she would have rushed right out for first blood. But there was something more valuable, she was learning, in the space she took to grieve, to lay down her armor, to share the burden with the one who loved her. And he had proved, yet again, it was not too much to bear.

The time for blood would come. For now, all she wanted was Kaz.

“I sound like someone you shouldn’t have fallen in love with,” she teased.

“Yes, well,” Kaz gave her that irresistible smirk, “I don’t claim to have the soundest judgment in that area.”

“And my house has far too much glass for me to be throwing stones,” Inej said with a wink, toying with his fingers in hers til he grinned.

“Come here and kiss me,” he begged.

“Say ‘please.’” She pressed back a smile.

“Inej, my darling,” Kaz began to edge closer to her, the covers sliding across his bare torso, “treasure of my heart, love of my life,” and he tucked one arm under her pillow, leaning next to her as she smiled up at him, “for gods’ sake, please kiss me already.”

And Inej took his face in her hands and pulled him down to her, a kiss wholly unlike any she’d felt yet. Perhaps it was the words he’d said that gave the kiss its sweetness. Or the sincerity in his dark eyes that give it its fire. Whatever was to blame, Inej found herself turning towards him to match his fervor, her body like a magnet pulled toward his. He ran one hand along her rib cage, and his fingertips brushed against her midriff as her top slid upward. Saints, those lockpick fingers. If the Saints had ever known the tenderness of a thief’s hands, they would never have declared them sinners.

She sighed against his mouth as Kaz ran gentle fingertips up her spine, beneath her shirt. From the crooked smirk she saw on his lips when she pulled back, she could tell he relished how she reacted, the cheeky bastard.

“Have I said I was sorry?” he murmured when their foreheads touched. His sly fingers were drawing lazy circles across her back, and each slow turn released achy tension she’d held inside of her since the moment she saw the butcher’s face in the paper.

“You have not,” she sighed, her eyes slipping closed.

A soft kiss against her forehead. Slow, steady circles across her shoulder blades.

“I am sorry,” he whispered. “Ghezen strike me dead if I ever rob you of your justice.”

“You don’t believe in Ghezen.”

“One of your Saints, then. Pick the baddest, meanest bloke. That one.”

“No.” Inej squirmed a little closer into his warmth, tucking her head into his neck.

“No?” She felt his voice rumble in his chest.

“No,” she repeated. “I like you too much to risk it.”

She could feel the smile on his cheek pressed against her hair, and she breathed in his scent, soap-clean and musky. Here, she was worlds away from the men who’d used her, the people who tried to destroy her. Her story would always contain their faces and their misdeeds. That was inescapable. But here, in Kaz’s hands, her story could take a new turn.

Here, physical intimacy was made of completely new sights, sensations, even scents. Here was her exception. Here it was different. Here she would always be safe.

She knew this deep in her bones, curled against him, his fingertips brushing against the smooth planes of her back. She could have stayed all day there. As it was, she lost track of how much time had passed. She simply closed her eyes and let him hold her.

But then, slowly, she felt his hand slide out of her shirt, linger at her hip for just a moment, before Kaz began to inch out from under her, toward the far-off edge of the bed. He must have thought she’d fallen asleep.

“Don’t go,” she said, reaching for his wrist.

“I have work, love,” and Kaz leaned over to kiss her lips once more. “You can come, too, if you want. Or stay. The bed’s for you as much as it is for me.”

But Inej wasn’t interested in taking no for an answer. They’d wasted their whole first evening in the newly renovated Slat because of some stupid newspaper. All she could see now was the boy who’d loved her for ages, the man she’d been counting down the days to hold again.

“You’re a Barrel boss. Show up when you want.” She tugged playfully at the loose waistband of his sleeping trousers, and added, as if her mouth suddenly had a mind of its own: “Work on me instead.”

Kaz’s dark eyebrows rose nearly to his hairline as she pulled again at his trousers, a teasing smirk on her kiss-swollen lips.

“Fucking hell, Inej,” he swore, but he wasn’t putting up much of a fight. She stifled a chuckle when she pushed herself upright. She took his face in one hand and pulled him down to her again. The unshaven stubble on his jawline was rough against her palm, but his mouth was as soft as her dreams of him at sea. He gave a relinquishing sigh against her lips as she moved her hands to his hair, raking her fingernails against his scalp. She could feel his body giving in, growing as careless as she was about the time, his hands sliding over her hip bones as she pulled him up against her body again.

And, for the first time, she wanted his body over hers, to feel engulfed against his solid muscles, to be his entirely. Her exception. Her haven. She ran her hands over his wide shoulders, down the slopes of his back muscles, and pulled his waist toward hers.

“Leg.” Kaz pulled back with a sharp wince and a grunt, as he tried to shift his body so his bad leg wouldn’t bear his weight.

“Sorry!” Inej was instantly apologetic. “Damn, this makes me the bearded goat now.”

Kaz huffed a strained laugh as he shifted between her legs, bracing himself with his arms over her while he tried to find a comfortable balance. And Inej found herself staring at the corded muscle in his arms, the tattoos on his forearm and bicep, the hard planes down his chest and torso, and she was seized with the need to know if the rest of him could feel as wonderful as his hands against the rest of her.

And while he was still adjusting his weight, she quickly, without much thought at all, crossed her arms in front of her, grabbed the hem of her shirt, and pulled it off over her head. The cotton sheets felt smooth and cool beneath her bare back.

Kaz froze, wide-eyed in surprise. That would never get old.

“Is this all right for your leg?” Inej asked beneath him.

“What?” Kaz looked mesmerized. “I don’t know, maybe, it’s fine.”

And Inej laughed as he eagerly lowered himself onto his elbows, and she thought she heard his breath catch when her breasts pressed against his bare chest. She let her hands explore the smooth skin across the breadth of his back while he buried his face in her neck, kissing her throat, her collarbone, nipping at her earlobe. His breath was warm against her ear, sending shivers dancing down her spine.

When he ran one hand over her rib cage, to softly cup underneath her breast, Inej gripped at his waist with her thighs, desperate only to feel closer to him. No one had ever felt like this against her, but then, she’d never wanted someone so completely. No one had ever taken so much time and care to unlock her secrets, to know what she craved.

“I love you,” she whispered. It leapt from her lips like it had been cut free.

When Kaz pulled back when he’d heard it, his dark hair had fallen in his eyes, his sharp cheekbones flushed. And he kissed her fiercely, cupping her cheek, parting her lips gently with his tongue.

“I love you,” he told her when they each took a breath, and Inej couldn’t help smiling while he kissed her again. “I always have. I always will.”

Inej’s heart was soaring, slamming against her rib cage, as she melted beneath his lips. She nipped at his bottom lip and let him flick his tongue against hers while his hands roamed freely across her body, her breasts, her waist, the underside of her thighs, like he couldn’t get enough, couldn’t decide where to land. And Inej’s breath grew ragged – how many nights at sea had she imagined having his hands on her like this? Desire spread like wildfire through her veins, pooling between her legs as she rolled her hips against his.

At the movement, he shot her a surprised glance, his breath shallow, his swollen lips parted. So, she did it again, a silent reassurance that she was with him, that she wasn’t vanishing. That she wanted. And when he moved to repeat her motion, a little stiff and awkward at first while he delicately tried to keep weight off his bad leg, she felt the hard press of his full erection against her center, rubbing just right against her, and she drew in a breath, welcoming the small rush of pleasure.

She slid her hands down to the hard muscle near the base of his spine, pressing him against her again, grinding up against his hardness so that he groaned in the back of his throat when his lips brushed her neck again.

A year ago, she’d only wished the ghosts of her pasts could be so efficiently exorcised. Now, the haunts of the previous night lived where they belonged – in the past. Now, there was only the man she loved, who loved her, and the all-encompassing longing that overtook her mind, her heart, her body. She wanted every inch of him, anything he could give her.

He was pushing himself up off her body, to put more weight against his hard cock as it rubbed against her folds through her trousers, and she slid her fingers down over his tense abdomen, hungry for more of him. She skimmed over his thin trail of jet-black hair that disappeared beneath the waistband of his trousers, before hooking her thumbs in the fabric and giving a little tug.

A question. A request. A silent plea.

Kaz stopped and looked over her face, panting even as he examined her expression.

“Are you sure?” His brow was furrowed. How many times had new territory only unleashed new demons? She both loved and regretted his careful consideration.

She bit her lip as she nodded. He had stoked the fire in her, and now it raged, desperate, unquenchable. It was worth the risk. And, as if to up the ante and force his hand, she slipped her fingers into her own trousers and began to slide them off.

“Let’s just try.” Her whisper was laced with lust.

“Try,” Kaz echoed. He pushed himself to one side of her as she removed her trousers, lying bare beside him. She watched the rise and fall of his chest as she did, taking in how nervous he was. Hoping she wasn’t pushing them too far.

But then again, they had survived every disappointment, every setback so far. This was who they were. They never stopped fighting.

And this was one battle she had never felt so desperate to fight.

“Is this all right?” she checked. She would always check.

This time, though, Kaz released a tense puff of air.

“You’re asking me?” His brows cinched together in disbelief. “You do remember you called me a bearded goat not even twelve bells ago?”

“And you called me an investment once, and yet, here we are.”

“I did not.”

“You absolutely did.”

“…shit. Inej, you have terrible taste in men.”

“Fine, then, I’ll put my clothes back on.”

“Counter offer,” Kaz interjected, desperately pulling her close to his body once more as she grinned, “I settle the debt. I make it up to you.”

“Interesting.” This ridiculous man. As if he had anything to make up to her. But she did enjoy his games. “I’ll hear your proposal, Brekker.”

Instead, he bent his head to kiss the base of her throat, to brush his lips over her sternum as her gently stroked one of her nipples with a thumb. Her face felt hot as she drew in a breath, and he glanced up with a mischievous smirk as he slowly shifted his body over hers again. And he began to trail slow, methodical kisses down her body: over her breasts, down to her navel, stroking her waist, her hips as he moved down back between her legs.

She found she was holding her breath in anticipation as he ran his long fingers through the spangle of soft curls over her cunt, his dark eyes always watching her, calculating and careful. He bent his head to gently kiss the soft, tender skin on the inside of her thighs, and she propped herself up on her elbows, in fascination. His kisses up her legs were as soft as a bird’s wing, barely there and yet all she could feel.

And then she gasped in spite of herself, her eyes fluttering, as he left a slow, hot kiss against her clit.

“A decent offer?” Kaz rasped, and stroked the inside of her folds with the back of one finger.

“Saints, Kaz,” was all she could breathe, abandoning all pretense of wit. Kaz just chuckled as he pressed his lips back into against her clit.

She sighed, dropping from her elbows, flopping into the pillows, as Kaz wrapped his arms under her hips, his hands at her waist. His tongue worked in slow, gentle strokes up the strip of her folds, and she’d never even dared to hope a man could make her feel so good.

His breath was hot against her cunt as he gently sucked at her soft, wet lips, and it made her fingers twist in the white sheets. Suli curses were brimming on her tongue, and she bit her lip, the swirl of sensation and warmth and desire spiraling up through her body. And fuck, he had learned her quickly. She could sense his attention fixated on her, sense it in the way he changed pace, changed pressure, ever so slightly, every time her breath caught, her body writhed, her voice betrayed her. If this was how he would settle their debts from now on, she’d let him borrow from her every goddamn day.

He was driving her to the brink, and she would fall willingly, hard and fast. Her toes were curling as his mouth moved quickly over her pussy, and he brought one hand from her waist, and just as she was praying his fingers would work her like they had in the bathroom at the Geldrenner, he was pushing in one finger and then two, caressing her ridges while his tongue stroked against her clit.

The curses she’d been holding back where no match for it. Her whole body was taut, barely containing the tension and the flames he fanned. Her back arched; she swore loud enough, she worried people on the streets below would hear. And soon after a wave of intense pleasure exploded from her core, rattling up her spine, sending her whole body quaking beneath his hands.

Her heart raced underneath her palm as she pressed a hand to her chest, trying to catch her breath. She hadn’t realized she’d broken a sweat. When she opened her eyes again, Kaz had worked his way back up beside her on the bed, with a smug look on his face.

“You bastard,” she panted, poking him in the chest.

“Excuse you,” he raised an eyebrow.

“I’m not sorry.” She heaved a deep, satisfied sigh. “If this is how you make up, I’m going to fight you every day.”

And Kaz gave a chuckle, leaning down to kiss her.

“Your turn,” she said when he sat back, and his grin grew wider as he fumbled with the drawstring on his waistband.

But then, the alarm bells began to sound.

The actual fucking alarm bells.

Inej was toying with his trousers, slipping her fingers beneath the fabric over his hip bones, when the peal of bells broke through the dawn air, echoing through the streets of Ketterdam. And she stopped, cocking her head to one side, as she looked up at Kaz.

“Is that--?” she started, but from the way the color drained from his face, she didn’t need to ask more.

Ketterdam had built these bells for one purpose, for the Kerch’s worst nightmare: the plague. The Dregs had used this to their advantage once before, a false epidemic to stage an escape. But this wasn’t fake.

Kaz had leapt from the bed to limp to the window as Inej began hurriedly pulling on her trousers. Now she was recalling the other headlines she’d forgotten from the night before, emblazoned over the top half of the Ketterdam Ledger.

Firepox.

The necrotic infection moved faster and killed quicker than any butcher that lurked these streets. Its body count was higher than any Barrel boss’. Kaz still fought the ghosts of its victims, all these years later.

Inej was pulling her shirt back over her head as Kaz leaned out the open window. Shouting and hurried footsteps over cobblestones echoed up from the streets. Mediks and Stadwatch were cordoning off every block, quarantining everyone in their homes.

“What are you doing?” Kaz had turned back to her as Inej laced up her boots, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“I have to get back to my ship,” she replied, “before they seal off the harbor.”

“It’s already too late.” There was something oddly hollow about Kaz’s voice. “The docks are the first thing they’ll close off. No one in, no one out.”

“I have to try,” Inej insisted. “My crew--”

“They will blow you out of the water before they allow a potentially infected ship out of these harbors,” Kaz snapped. “Don’t be a fool.”

“Then I have to make sure my crew is safe.”

“No one is safe, Inej. This isn’t some gang of thugs you can fight off--”

“Spare me your condescension; I know exactly what this is. That’s why I have to hurry.”

The legs of Kaz’s desk chair scraped against the floor as he sat down hard in it, wincing as he stretched out his bad leg. He closed his eyes tight as he gripped at his aching knee. She could only imagine how impossibly heavy this moment weighed on him, but she was a captain and she could not abandon her crew.

“Go.” His voice rasped hard like gravel. “Get as far away from here as you can.”

Inej crossed to him and reached out to hold his face, but he jerked his head away at the last moment.

“I love you,” she repeated, but he wouldn’t meet her gaze. “I will not be gone long. We will pick up where we left off.”

He hadn’t moved when she jumped up on the windowsill. She gave him one quick glance over her shoulder, knowing she would be back in only a few hours, before slipping out over the rooftops.

Read the conclusion here: Stars In The Darkness

#six of crows #soc #crooked kingdom #kanej #kanej fanfic #kanej smut #smut #fanfic #fanfiction #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #kaz x inej #kaz brekker x inej ghafa

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justthehiddleswrites · 3 years

Text

Destiny Has Other Plans | Loki x OFC (Alexis Randall) | Chapter 5

Pairing: Loki x OFC

MASTERLIST IS HERE

Summary: When Loki goes to ask his father for permission to marry, he is shocked to discover his destiny has already been made for him. He is already betrothed to Sjofn, the daughter of the King of Vanaheim. An arranged marriage to bring the two kingdoms closer together and strengthen the bond. Never mind that Sjofn and Loki can’t stand each other.

After The Battle of New York, Loki is sent to live at Avengers Tower as punishment for his misdeeds. But it doesn’t mean he has to like it. A year later, he has adjusted to life on Midgard but has avoided any romantic or emotional entanglements, still bitter over his lost love. Dr. Alexis Randall is skilled at helping others fix their relationships as a couple therapist, but can’t help her own love life. A chance encounter with Loki in a dive bar has life altering consequences for both of them. Now, Alexis and Loki must figure out a way to co-habit without killing each other in the process, plus navigating impending parenthood and other roadblocks along the way.

This Chapter: After Loki goes to bail out Alexis, they have a tense conversation about them and their relationship.

Warnings: Arranged Marriage, Forced Marriage, Pregnancy, Unplanned Pregnancy, Smut, Angst, Semi-Public Sex, Mentions of law enforcement, Oral Sex, Cursing, Vaginal Sex

Taglists are Open, please let me know if you wish to be added.

Alexis regretted nothing. The guy had it coming. She didn’t plan on the bartender calling the cops and definitely didn’t plan on being the one arrested.

“He grabbed my ass!” She protested as the officer roughly tugged her hands behind her back.

“He is alleging you punched him.”

“Because he grabbed my ass!” Alexis repeated, screaming. She spied the “victim” in question sitting on the bumper of a patrol car, holding a cloth to his bloody nose, courtesy of Alexis’s fist. “HANNAH! Bail me out.” Hannah’s head popped through the crowd, holding Alexis’s purse and phone. She nodded and disappeared into the gathering crowd.

“Someone’s come for you, George Foreman.” The detention officer sneered as she opened the holding cell where Alexis sat on the cold metal bench. There were a few other women in the cell, but they kept to themselves.

Alexis sighed with relief as she jumped up from the bench and hustled to the door. The officer walked in front of her until they reached just outside the lobby. They handed her a bag with her personal effects, some bits of jewelry and a credit card. She overheard yelling from the lobby.

“Someone seems to be having a worse night than me.” Alexis muttered. The officer gave her an odd glance.

“Good luck, Foreman.”

Alexis stepped out in the lobby and to her horror saw Loki was the source of the screaming.

“IF EVEN ONE HAIR ON HER HEAD IS HARMED, I WILL HAVE YOU…” Loki clenched his fists to contain his rage. “SHE IS PREGNANT WITH MY CHILD AND—”

“LOKI!” Alexis screeched. “What are you doing here?! How did you even know I was here?”

Loki rushed to her side. His hands ran over her in a rushed fashion, ruffling her now wrinkled and dirty dress. “Your friend Hannah called me. Said they arrested you. What did you do?”

“Why do you assume I did something?” Loki glared at her.

“She punched a guy who got a little fresh at the club. Gave him the signature Randall right.” Hannah piped up from a chair in the corner. “It’s the guy who should be here, not Alexis.”

“Thanks, Hannah. Did you have to call the warden?” Alexis pushed Loki’s hands off him.

“What did you call me?” Loki questioned. “What is that supposed to mean?” His eyes narrowed.

“I AM A PRISONER, LOKI!!” She screamed. Loki’s head darted around the lobby of the police station.

“Keep your voice down. Must you always shout?” He pushed her out the door.

Alexis spun around. “Because it seems to be the only way you hear.” Loki stopped in his tracks. Alexis collapsed against the side of the police station counter. “You are suffocating me, Loki.”

His face softened. “I’m only trying to protect you.” He reached out to touch Alexis’s stomach. “To protect our child.”

“By locking me in a cage, Loki. A big cage called the Avengers Tower. I am not used to having to ask permission to step outside.”

“It’s for—”

Alexis’s bottom lip quivered. “Don’t you DARE SAY IT!” She snatched his purse from him. “Just take me back to my prison cell.”

Loki sighed and grabbed her by the waist, and they disappeared in a flash of light.

When they reappeared in the common room, Alexis was out of breath.

“Nice parlor trick.” She pushed Loki off of her. “How come you never travel like that everywhere?”

Loki wiggled his wrist, his bracelet catching the lighting. “I had to call Tony in order to come and get you.” Loki walked over and perched on the back of the couch, turning his head to make sure Thor or any other of the Avengers weren’t lurking about. “He also arranged for your release.”

Alexis huffed. “I’ll thank him in the morning. Night, Loki.” She turned on her throbbing heel to head off to bed. Loki flashed in front of you, grabbing her elbow.

“We’re not done here!” He dragged her roughly to the couch, giving a bit of shove. “Sit down.” Alexis opened her mouth to protest. “I will not ask again, SIT DOWN!” She plopped down on the couch. Loki sat down opposite of her on the coffee table, his elbows on his thighs. As she stared at him, Alexis noticed the worry on Loki’s face. “How can you have so little regard—”

“How can YOU have so—” Alexis screamed.

“YOU WILL NOT INTERRUPT ME!!!” Loki bellowed. Alexis cowered back and then burst into tears.

“I’M SORRY! I’M SORRY! I… I…” She sobbed hysterically, burying her face in hands.

Loki relaxed his posture. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have yelled.”

“No, I deserved it.” she cried. “I should have just stayed put.”

Loki leaned over to rub her knees. “I have been perhaps a bit overbearing. I guess you could go out from time to time.”

She peeked at him, face tear stained, a small smile. “That would help. A lot.”

“With a proper escort.”

Alexis frowned. “That means you.”

“Or one of the other Avengers.”

“I am sorry to ruin your date.”

Loki resisted the urge to smile. “It’s fine. I was getting ready to head home anyway.” He rose and offered his hand. She accepted and pulled up to her feet.

“Didn’t want to seal the deal with Blow Up Barbie?” Alexis sniped back.

“Decidedly not. She’s not my type.”

“I don’t think they can get any more stupid than that, Loki.”

Loki threw her a derisive glare. “Despite what you may think of me, Alexis, I do prefer a well read date.” She opened her mouth to snap back some insult. “And I mean more than the street signs. I do have standards. Someone to carry a conversation on with that doesn’t revolve around Instagram.” He walked away.

She shuffled her feet. “Oh. I might have been a bit jealous when you left for your date.”

Loki stopped in his tracks and spun on his heel. “You were what?” His lips curling into a wide grin.

“I’m not repeating myself.” she muttered, her hands twisted in front of her.

Loki stepped toe to toe with her. “Then I will presume you just profess having feelings for me.” He cupped her cheek. “I must admit that my evening would have been infinitely better if it had been you. Plus, it would have avoided a trip to the police station.”

“I never promised it would be boring.”

“Neither did I.”

And then Loki kissed her. She sighed into him, her hands lighting on Loki’s shoulders, twisting the ends of his long hair with her fingers. She pushed back.

“I just want to note for the record. You said ‘feelings’ first. I was going to go with ‘mildly tolerate you’.” She smirked.

“I don’t recall that.” Loki retorted. “You must have misheard me.”

“I have perfect hearing.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and tugged him down, pressing her lips to his.

Loki panted as he pulled away. “I’ll keep that in mind. Now, I think we should retire to our apartment before we draw attention from the others. Unless, of course, you want to announce this change in our status.”

“Um… no thank you.” She glanced up at the ceiling. “I hope Clint isn’t crawling about.”

Loki smiled. “I am pretty sure he is sleeping by now.” He offered his arm and led Alexis down the hallway. Once their door clicked in the distance, Clint slipped out of the vent.

“I never sleep.” He commented before walking away.

Alexis and Loki did their best to keep up the appearance of not liking each other, to avoid the inevitable deluge of questions from Tony and everyone else. So they continued to bicker and argue in front of everyone else while nurturing their budding relationship behind closed doors. But it was getting more and more difficult.

“Hey, Loki…” Bruce called out as he opened the door to the apartment. Where Loki was making out with Alexis in the kitchen. She shoved him away with a hand to the chest.

Bruce’s eyes darted between the two of them as they came into view. “Are the two of you okay? You are both flushed. And breathing heavy.”

“Um… hormones.” Alexis fanned herself. “I am getting ready to hit my second trimester. Would you like to hear about how big the baby is?” She blinked at Bruce as he turned five different shades of red.

“No, no, that’s okay. And what’s your excuse, Loki?”

“Sympathy hormones.” Loki responded with a straight face.

Bruce shook his head. “Okay, Loki, can you come down to the lab once your hormones calm down. I am working on those tests from that artifact. I could use your help.”

Loki nodded back. “I will be there as soon as I can.” Alexis raised an eyebrow. Loki cleared his throat. “Once I make sure Alexis is okay.”

Bruce held up his hands. “Of course. I’ll see you there.” He backed out of the apartment shutting the door in the process and walked towards the elevator.

“So…?” Tony questioned from the couch.

Bruce fished out his wallet and slapped a twenty-dollar bill into Tony’s hand. “Definitely more than friends.”

Tony sat up. “Did you see them kissing? Naked? Oh God, you didn’t….” Tony gagged.

“Nothing like that, but apparently Loki was flushed due to sympathy hormones.” Bruce chuckled.

“And they call him God of Lies.”

“You know he hates that name.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “New stakes. $500 to the first person to get photographic evidence of a romantic relationship.

Bruce stabbed a finger at Tony. “No use of security cameras?”

“Fine.” Tony sighed.

“You’re on.”

“I was afraid he was going to stick around.” Loki purred into Alexis’s neck as he pressed her against the fridge.

Alexis leaned her head to the side, and Loki latched on the crook of her neck. She sighed into him.

“Don’t you need to go to the lab?” Her hands raked up and down his sides.

“If I recall correctly, I told Banner I would meet him after I assure you were okay.” He muttered against her. “Are you okay?”

Alexis considered her answer. “I would love for you to stay, but I fear if you do that, you will never make it to the lab.”

Loki chuckled against her, his hand moving to squeeze one of her breasts. “And that would be a tragedy how?” He pulled at the hem of her shirt.

Alexis flattened her palm against his chest and pushed him back against the counter “People will talk, Loki. Do you want to explain to everyone that we are sleeping together?” She raised an eyebrow.

Loki crossed his arms. “There’s nothing to explain. We aren’t sleeping together. Unless you call making out on the sofa and dry humping sleeping together. Do you?” He groused.

She chewed her lip. Alexis realized they had already slept together, but that had been a drunken mistake. This was different. This was sex with feelings. That was a lot of pressure. Not to mention the fact her belly seemed to grow by the week. It made everything more difficult.

“No.” She turned away from him.

“Darling,” Loki stood next to her, rubbing her arm. “Are you nervous? We have slept together before. If I recall correctly, that is why you are here.” He smiled.

Alexis chuckled. “True. But that was different, a one-night stand. But now…” She moved her hands back and forth between them.

“I must admit, I never expected to find myself in this situation.”

“Impregnating a stranger?”

“No, having a relationship with a mortal. When I was forced to come here, I swore I would never become emotionally involved with anyone.”

“That explains Ashlynn.” Loki narrowed his eyes. “Sorry.”

“As I was saying, I didn’t come here for a relationship, but to pay penance for my crimes. You were an unexpected complication. Unexpected but welcomed.” His hand traveled up to caress the side of her face.

She leaned against him. “Thank you, Loki.” His phone buzzed. “I bet that’s Bruce. You can’t keep him waiting.”

He kissed her cheek. “I will come back as soon as possible.”

“Want me to order in some food?”

Loki nodded. “You pick the restaurant.” He kissed her one more time before hurrying out the door.

Alexis took a couple of deep breaths and went to get herself ready for her afternoon clients.

Loki hustled into Bruce’s lab in a huff. Bruce swore he appeared even more ruffled than before.

“Now what is so pressing that you needed my presence?” Loki crossed his arms in irritation. He detected a hint of a smile twitching at the corners of Bruce’s mouth.

“Sorry to pull away from your girlfriend.” Bruce teased.

Loki held up a finger. “Not my girlfriend.” Not a lie. He hadn’t the opportunity to discuss with Alexis how to define their relationship. Another thing he needed to remedy.

“What are you exactly?” Bruce scrunched his face up.

“How is this any concern of yours?” Loki grew more cross by the minute.

“Just trying to be a good friend.”

“We would need to be friends first. I would say we are acquaintances at best. Now where is this artifact?”

Bruce, realizing he was getting nowhere, turned to the work at hand. “Over here.” He gestured off to the side. Loki pushed past him.

“Dr. Randall?” Val Adams called out.

Alexis blinked, snapping back to reality. She pulled on her jacket. “So sorry, Mrs. Adams…” She turned to the older man with a pinched face sitting next to the woman. “… Mr. Adams.”

Mrs. Adams’ face softened. “It’s alright, dear. Pregnancy brain. I remember when I pregnant with my Aidan, I—”

“Are you going to charge us for this?” Mr. Adams interrupted. Mrs. Adams sank back into the couch. Alexis held up a finger.

“Mark, we don’t interrupt. Val, continue with your story.”

Val waved Alexis off. “It wasn’t important.”

A ding sounded from Alexis’s computer. She sighed. “So that is the end of the session, and since we got a bit off topic, I will refund this session. Work on your active listening for our next session.”

Both Mark and Val stood and shook her hand and left. Alexis rubbed her head. She thought she would get more energy in her second trimester. But if anything, she was more tired.

“Rachel!” She called for her receptionist. Rachel shuffled in, carrying a Diet Coke.

“Yes, Dr. Randall?” She handed over the can of soda.

“When’s the next appointment? I am hoping to catch a nap.”

“The Adams were your last. The Martins cancelled. Again. Should I send a letter?”

She perked up. “They cancelled? Excellent. Uh… yes, send the letter. And call it an early day. I am heading upstairs.”

Rachel nodded and headed back to her desk. Alexis switched off her computer and turned off the light.

“Night, Dr. Randall.” Rachel piped up from her desk.

“Night, Rachel. I’ll see you on Monday.” She waved and beelined to the elevator.

Alexis sighed against the door, grateful for the quiet. Loki wasn’t due back to several hours. She settled onto the couch for a quick nap.

Loki stepped into a dark apartment after finishing up with Bruce.

“Alexis?” He called out into the dark, expecting her to pop out from her bedroom. Instead, he heard a soft moan from the sofa.

“Darling, are you alright?” He moved towards her. He squinted to find her sleeping on her side.

“Loki…” she moaned in a way that sounded like one thing and one thing only.

Loki smirked as he sat down at her feet, rubbing her legs. “Alexis, darling. Wake up. You are having a dream.”

She hummed as her eyes slowly opened. Her eyes focused on Loki sitting at her feet.

“Hmm, what?” she muttered, stretching.

“You were moaning my name. And not in anger like usual.” Loki chuckled.

“Oh fuck, I…” she sputtered before sighing. “I’ve been having dreams about you. Sexual dreams.”

Loki smiled and pulled her up to sitting, pressing against her side. His fingers running up and down her arm. “From what I read, it is a fairly common occurrence.”

Alexis’s body heated all over. She squirmed in her seat. The truth was, she had been incredibly horny for the past month or so.

“Darling…” His lips ghosted over the shell of her ear while his hand squeezed her upper thigh. “I want you.”

She turned to face him. “I want you too, Loki.”

That is all it took for Loki to pull her onto his lap and crash his lips against hers. This kiss differed from the one earlier. There was a tenderness and wanting in it that sent shivers down Alexis’s spine. Loki’s tongue tasted her mouth as his hands cupped her face in both of his hands, the pads of fingers caressing her cheeks. Alexis sighed and weaved her fingers into Loki’s hair.

“Loki…” she whimpered as they parted. Loki’s chest heaved against her.

Silently, he stood, taking her by the hand and leading her towards his bedroom. Loki undid the zipper of her dress, allowing it to fall to the floor. Next, he undid her bra, her breasts falling softly from the cups. Loki lowered himself to his knees, kissing along her burgeoning belly with an open mouth along the way. Alexis gasped as Loki’s thumbs hooked into the waistband of her underwear and dragged them down her legs to join the rest of her clothing.

“Lie down at the edge of the bed.” Loki asked, grabbing a pillow for her back.

She settled herself with the pillow under her hips. Loki kneeled before her, taking one of her legs into his hands and kissing from the ankle to her inner thigh. Alexis whimpered as Loki touched everywhere except where she wanted it the most.

“Patience, dove. I didn’t get the pleasure of enjoying you thoroughly the last time we coupled. I won’t make that mistake again.” Loki purred as he repeated the treatment to the other leg.

He settled her legs on his shoulders and teased his fingers across her mons. Her lips glistened with arousal. With a single finger, he swiped along her slit, collecting her juices.

“Oh god!” Alexis called out, fisting the sheets on either side of her.

Loki smiled at how sensitive Alexis was. Unable to hold back any more, he licked his tongue along Alexis, earning himself another pornographic moan. Loki latched onto her clit, sucking. Alexis arched her back and writhed under Loki’s touch. She was already teetering on the edge. Loki plunged a finger inside of her and curled it inside of her.

“Loki!” she hissed as she came hard, gushing onto his face.

Her body shook as electricity jolted through her. Loki continued to lick her until she pushed his head away. Alexis sat up and pulled Loki against her, crashing her lips against his, tasting her on him. Her hands pawed at his shirt and Loki made quick work of the buttons. Alexis pushed it off his shoulders with shaking hands. His pants and boxers soon followed, along with his socks and shoes. Loki crawled onto the bed, settling his head on the remaining pillows.

“Come.” Loki beckoned her, patting his thighs.

Alexis crawled towards him, belly and breasts hanging heavy. She straddled Loki’s hips. Loki’s hands lighted on her hips. She grabbed his cock and lined it up with her entrance. He helped her lower herself onto him.

“Are you alright, darling?” he asked as she winced.

“Yes.” she smiled. “It just feels… different.”

Loki smirked. “I would use the word ‘exquisite’.”

She settled against him, taking a moment to adjust to being filled with Loki.

“Take your time, darling.” Loki encouraged.

After a moment, she rocked up and down, getting used to the weight of her belly and larger breasts. One of Loki’s hands snaked up to squeeze one of her breasts, teasing the nipples.

“Fuck, Loki! That feels…” Her thoughts cut off by Loki bucking into her.

“By gods, Alexis. You are perfection. So sensitive, so responsive.” Loki purred as he continued to play with her breast. “Come for me, darling.” Her hand found her clit and rubbed it in tight circles.

Soon, she came again, squeezing around Loki as she continued to ride him. Loki gasped as he soon followed her, coming inside of her.

With a groan, Alexis rolled off of Loki and stood up. She gathered her clothes to head back to her room.

“Stay.” Loki sat up. “I do not wish for you to leave quite yet.”

She dropped her clothes back to the floor. “I would like that.”

He lifted the covers, and she settled into the curve of his body. Loki wrapped his arms around her, his hands settling on her belly. Soon, they both settled into a deep slumber.

Alexis woke before Loki the next morning, stomach growling. They had skipped dinner. She extracted herself from his grip.

“Where are you going?” Loki murmured, still half asleep.

“To get food. Your child is hungry.”

“Hmm.” Loki rolled over and fell back asleep.

She grabbed a shirt and pair of Loki’s boxers and padded to their small kitchen to find nothing she wanted to eat. Alexis headed out to the common room kitchen in search of food. She found some cereal in the pantry and started snacking on it while looking for a banana and milk.

“I know about you and Loki.” Clint’s voice called out.

“AHHH!” Alexis tossed the box in the air, sending cereal flying everywhere. “Stop doing that!”

Clint leaned back against the counter. “I saw the two of you kiss the other night.”

Alexis flushed. “I don’t know what you are talking about. I can hardly stand Loki.” She attempted to walk past Clint, but he caught her elbow.

“I saw you kissing and you are wearing his boxers. Something tells me that your love-hate relationship has become something more.”

Alexis slumped. “I can explain.”

#loki #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki imagine #loki fluff #loki smut #loki angst #loki x ofc #loki odinson #loki laufeyson #loki series #destiny has other plans

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smolbeandrabbles · 4 years

Text

Le Bien Qui Fait Mal - Dave x Reader (Lost River)

GIF Credit: X

@mandy23b @wltz-bby @happyskywhale #mendotagsquad

Dave + 27 - “No. Regrets.” Requested by @sufferthesea

Author’s Note: Special mention to @crawlingmist for building on my plot. It’s with great pleasure that I get to bring you this, with a song from my favourite musical! 😏😁

I barely needed to edit this one either. Sometimes, sometimes I get it just right... The translated lyrics to the song are below, but really you need the song. No matter that it’s in French. It’s very Dave. The whole Aesthetic.

Le Bien Qui Fait Mal - Mozart L’Opera Rock Disclaimer: MoR lyrics not mine / Lost River and all associated things not mine / gif not mine / some direct quoting from ‘Lost River’ used 😅

Premise: You’re the first singer that Dave has employed at his club, you also have a ‘je ne sais quoi’ that floods his thoughts. His curiosity can only be sated one way...

Words: 2530

Warnings: Sexual Connotations/Pre-Amble / Swearing

--- Where is this strange feeling coming from? It fascinates me as much as it unsettles me I shiver, pieced by beauty It’s like a knife in my soul The wound goes through my heart And I take joy in the pain Intoxicated by this poison Until I lose my mind! It’s so good it hurts When you love, your hatred is perfectly normal Take Pleasure It’s so good to suffer Succumb to the spell Shed your tears It’s so good it hurts (hurts me) When you love, your sorrow is perfectly banal (it’s so good it hurts) True delights Come from torture Lower your weapons Shed your tears I feel violent urges It seems like I’m slipping into the depths If I ignore the source of this curse I love letting it under my skin Bewitched by mad ideas Suddenly my urges arise Desire becomes my prison Until I lose my mind!

---

The world was spinning. Like he was drunk, or maybe high. Or maybe he was something else...

Whatever he was, Dave was out of his head. He was going crazy; he was confused. Because he didn’t know why. You? The sound of your voice? What you were wearing? All of it? All of that in this setting? He wanted so badly to look away but Dave couldn’t tear his eyes from you. The pleasure was insane, but it almost hurt just as bad. Wasn’t that the point, after all. Wasn’t that why this club existed?

Dave didn’t have a singer at his club. He didn’t see himself as counting, he didn’t sing every night. It was a rarity; his treat and gift to everyone. Until you. And Dave wasn’t here every night to listen to you sing - but right now he felt that was going to change. He had heard you sing before - your voice sweet and pretty, gently melodic. One that - in his opinion - would sound good mixed with his (no matter what way that would be). But a short one song audition for him and a voice he liked wasn’t this.

This was a culmination of all of that. Yet your voice tonight? Oooh... this was deeper, richer, sultry. With the music and lyrics too? Dave thought about loosening buttons. He relaxed the way he was sitting and tried to take a calming deep breath. It helped nothing. He wondered if you’d been nervous before - a job you desperately needed? - now you were in your element; but it couldn’t have been him that had made you nervous. Because, as if feeling like this wasn’t enough, your eyes hadn’t moved from staring at him.

Usually Dave would love to have a gorgeous woman stare at him like this. He was a typical ‘love them and leave them.’ People didn’t steal his heart - the only relationship Dave was ever really after was physical. And yes, yes, you were affecting him like that. He’d make sure you knew you didn’t get to give him such a stare without being pinned up against something, somewhere. Still, his heart. His pulse was running wild - Dave didn’t blush, but if he thought he was capable… He didn’t know what was happening, but he felt sick. Dave shifted again, finally able to prize his eyes away from you. He squeezed them tightly shut, feeling lightheaded once more. Rob leant over, “You okay?” “Yeah...” Dave counted himself lucky that his voice managed to be that steady, then he nodded “Yeah.” Then waved towards the stage, “After she’s done. Send her to me.” He cleared his throat, eyes drawn back to you. “I think we need a little talk...”

** The club was emptying by the time you got a chance to go to him. That was mostly because Rob, with his own duties, was delayed in getting the message to you, and you had a few things you had to attend to yourself before you heeded Dave’s call. By that time it was getting late anyway, so you preferred to wait until the club was quiet to go to him. Dave found the waiting time more agony than he could possibly imagine. He was supposed to be enjoying everyone else’s performances, but he simply couldn’t. His mind stirred and always sent him back to you – the way it felt like those eyes of yours were reaching into his very soul and uncovering the darkest secrets he held, it was more than just seeing through him – you were undoing him, piece by piece. And sitting here waiting for you, Dave was forced to relive it. He closed his eyes trying to block you out, somehow, but you were already in his head. You weren’t about to let go. With realisation, Dave knew that he wouldn’t let you go either. Not until he had what you had him aching for. When you walked smoothly back out onto the stage, Dave was still sitting at his top table. One leg crossed over the other he was tipping his chair back – taking long, slow drags from his cigarette. His blue eyes flicked to you as soon as he noticed your presence. Even without the lights and the ambiance, you were still striking standing up there. He couldn’t ignore that; it clearly wasn’t the club, it was just you – and you were setting him on fire. Dave kept his eyes on you as he placed his cigarette to his lips once more and you swallowed hard, you weren’t sure that you could trust him. You weren’t sure about a lot of things, this job and the people that worked here. But you were sure that you wanted him, and nearly just as sure that he felt the same. Even from way up here, it wasn’t hard to see your effect on him considering you’d been watching him for your entire set. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realise- Would you like me to come and sit with you?” You were gentle and polite, and moved towards the steps down onto the floor. Dave stilled you as he set his chair back on all four legs and rose, taking one last drag before he stubbed out his cigarette. “Stay.” He walked across the room, not breaking your eye contact. Dangerous. Yet, you were attracted to that danger. Dave joined you on stage, wasting no time; “Pick a song.” “Sorry?” “A song. Pick one.” It was more of a demand than anything, yet it still left you confused. “May I ask why?” He wasn’t sure if he was impressed with you or annoyed. Why would you not just do as he asked? And yet he admired that you weren’t shying away from him with a timid stammer. “Sing with me.” Your face flushed, but your nerve held; “You sing?” Then before he could respond, which meant Dave was reduced to nodding, “Why ask me to perform if you can sing?” “Why wear out my talents every evening?” Dave turned his eyes to the empty room and flashed a smirk, “No. I’ll only sing on occasion, my dear – not everyone out there deserves to hear me.” You dared to look away from him to find some kind of music player – the lack of one would mean he wanted to sing with you acapella. You regarded him again, wondering what his singing voice was like. What it might feel like to hear it for the first time – if he’d be able to harmonize with you. What if it was you that couldn’t harmonize with him? He stared at you again, curiously, awaiting your answer. “What if you don’t know it?” “You’d be surprised. What’s your choice?” “There’s no music.” “You best not be trying to get out of this…” He walked forward to the microphones, beckoning you with him – and you followed. Unnervingly eager to hear this for yourself. “With a voice as intoxicating as yours, you hardly need musical accompaniment.” Dave’s eyes flashed and your lips parted – but you realised he was daring you to retaliate to such a seemingly forbidden piece of information. “Now come on.” He placed his hand to the shell of his ear, “I still haven’t heard a name…” You gave him one and for a moment you wondered if you had found something he didn’t know, as Dave stood in silence staring at the ceiling. You nearly jumped as the eerie silence was suddenly filled with a hummed melody at his recollection. The smirk returned as his gaze fell back to your face. “Am I right?” “…Yes…” You breathed, stepping to the mic. He took a step away and nodded, indicating that the floor was yours. Convinced that none of this could have been for a good reason, you took a deep breath and closed your eyes; imagining the opening notes in your head, imagining there was really a band behind you and crowd in front. All here for you, but also him. You opened your eyes again and with your confidence, incredibly, sky-high you began singing. Dave lost it almost immediately. You were still dressed as you had been when you’d performed; to be honest with the level of attraction he was still feeling towards you – whether that be purely lust, or something more, he didn’t know – it would have been enough. But when there was no music to focus on, when it was just your voice, it was almost worse. Beautiful and haunting, as you hit every note; Dave didn’t even think you’d have needed a microphone what with the way it echoed around the deserted building. You had no pressure here, no one was focusing on you, you didn’t have to be the source of entertainment – just to sing whatever you wanted. Then he joined you, and were you not in the zone, you would have tripped on your notes – you certainly nearly lost key as he brought his up to yours. His voice was smooth and rich, a little different to that semi-raspy tone he usually talked with. And as you continued to sing together, playfully pushing him into high and low sections, between softer sequences and real power notes you couldn’t help but be shocked at the range he had. A voice that was persuasive, seductive, but, like him, not quite true and trustworthy. A voice that didn’t ask you to do something, but gently implied you should do it – until it was all you could think about. Until you wanted to do it for him. Not ‘will you?’; ‘You will.’. You weren’t sure what that thing was either, but it certainly had a hold of you – and you had a distinct feeling you were now looking at each other in exactly the same way. You were both asking for trouble. As the song and your voices faded out, and the room lapsed back into silence, your ears were ringing. The tension you felt in your body surrounded you, it was in the very air you were breathing – and Dave crossed the stage with purpose before grabbing you. You expected it, the way he pulled you into him, and your fingers dug into his arms as his kiss engulfed you. It felt better than the sound of his voice insisted that it would, and you were sure you were going insane at the feel of him this close to you. His pull back was quick and violent – and although his blue eyes were dark and telling you exactly what he wanted, his glare was also hard. But you were smirking; because you had Dave right where you wanted him. “Who are you?” “Too much for you to handle.” You stepped back into him, letting him know that you were hardly afraid of him – nor to admit what you wanted. His intake of breath was sharp and he shook his head, eyes searching yours for a sign that you were teasing. You best not be – you best mean it. “Y/N. Let me tell you something, right now. I like to fuck and when I meet a bad bitch, it drives me crazy. But you drive me crazier than any other fucking woman I’ve ever known. And I want you NOW.” He wasn’t sure what he would see in you as he gripped you a little tighter, but your smile was not it. It didn’t look like it belonged on your face, sinfully wicked, to accompany your small laugh. You very nearly took Dave’s breath away. Your eyes ran his body as you replied, drawing up slowly, the lip bite was teasing – but the kind he wanted to tolerate; “I’ve been here enough times to have seen you sitting on your little table. And you drive me crazy.” You pulled him closer to your body, wrapping your arms around his neck and locked your intense stare with his; “Coincidentally - you’re the only man in this club I’m here for, and the only one I’d let put his hands all over me.” Dave bit his lip, this hum not of notes but of satisfaction. You meant business. You craved him as much as he did you. With your arms around his neck the decision was already made, he hoisted you off the floor and walked you from the stage to the first table he saw. Though the patrons had vacated the premises, drinks glasses and bottles still adorned nearly all the tables. But with your body pressed up against his, and the feel of your heart beat – erratic in anticipation – Dave couldn’t care less about that. Holding you strong in one arm he cleared the table with one sweep of his other, before laying you back on it. The crash of breaking glass deterred neither one of you. But he paused for just a second as his hands found either side of your waist. “Promise me something.” You tilted your head to the side, wondering what exactly Dave – of all people – would want you to promise now. Why he’d want you to promise anything. You weren’t exactly sure you cared if this was a one-time thing. “What is it you want me to promise?” “That you won’t regret this.” You raised an eyebrow, wondering if that was something he should be saying. Did women often regret sleeping with him? Instead you simply smiled, pulling him down to kiss you. “No. Regrets.” His eyes fluttered closed for a moment as he accepted your kiss, and then he straightened. Hooking your legs around himself Dave held you there, gaze locking with yours again. It was clear he wanted you to know exactly what you were doing to him with the way he pushed himself against you. You didn’t see the point in holding back your groan – Dave already knew you craved him. His fingertips grazing along your skin, taking your dress with them, was something else altogether – and as he rolled his hips over yours, your eyes fluttered closed. “Oh… Dave…” Your voice was soft, whispered just for him. His fingers brushed down your thighs as your dress climbed higher up your body. Dave paused again, with a delicious little smirk before he bent to kiss you once more – liking the feel of your fingers running through his hair to mess it up. He figured he’d quite like you to be pulling it, but Dave would save that for later. “You are so fucking beautiful.” He placed his hands on your hips, and had the audacity to wink at you. He got the feeling you’d be feisty. He liked that. Dave hooked his fingers under your lingerie, and pushing them to one side. His blue eyes flashed once more, darkening as they flicked back to your face. All he wished to know then was if your sex was as torturous as your presence. What that gorgeous voice of yours would sound like now. So good it hurts… You bit your lip, moving your hips eagerly in anticipation. You got the feeling by the look on his face, that regret wasn’t even going to remotely factor into this.

---

8/16 - We are half way there!

Thank you for reading! 😁🙏

#Dave #Lost River #Ben Mendelsohn #/Sven Voice/ Oh! David!#Linzi Writes #Linzi Writes Requests #Smol Bean Drabbles #I love this man toooo much #OH! MoR songs! I need to use a bunch more #There's one I want to use for Martin that translates as /solos beneath the sheets/#(but is definitely NOT about being solo!)#Dave is fic 160! Woo!#160 #Add this one to the: fics I wrote with lines that blow me away #i have so much inconsistency with the way I post these oh my god...

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serenitydusk · 4 years

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Until Midnight

A fluffy fic request from my dear friend @nerdqueenkat! Just in time for her birthday! Thanks to @ijwrff for being my beta!

“I have a favor to ask you.”

A pit of dread opened up in your stomach. The fact your boss was asking and not telling you to do something told you exactly how onerous you were going to find this task.

“And I’m asking you because I know you’ll do a great job.”

And that just cinched it. “I’m going to hate this, aren’t I?’ You sighed.

“Absolutely.” Gressil grinned. It did have a drop of sympathy in it. “I wouldn’t ask, but I cannot go, and you’re the only one I trust to not make a mess of things.” He quickly explained that in all likelihood, you’d be one of the few, possibly only, humans there. “Just mingle a bit, make some connections. Be seen.” It was one of those parties that he couldn’t get out of without offending the host, but even he couldn’t be in two places at once. “There will be a bonus in it, plus overtime.”

In the end, he gave you the bonus up front, plus let you have the company credit card to buy an outfit and shoes.

“Get whatever you need.” Well, you certainly had. You’d never paid this much for an entire season’s wardrobe let alone one dress. And the shoes. You had actually texted Gressil how much they were, expecting him to blow up and tell you absolutely not. But he had sent you to this place in particular.

‘That’s fine. Whatever you need.’

‘Gress, it’s more than my house payment…for just shoes….’

‘If that’s a hint for a raise….’ There was a pause, then a new text came through. ‘Ok. You should see the increase in next month’s check.’

You nearly choked. You’d never, not once, asked for a raise, and to be fair, you’d never really had to. Gressil had always been good about making sure you were well paid, above what was considered a competitive salary.

You had to admit, you looked …really good. The guy that helped you pick out everything had been a genius and had made a shopping trip you’d been dreading into something that was almost fun.

But all that confidence dwindled once you got inside and saw everyone. Every. Single. One. of them was perfection. Perfect smiles. Perfect hair. Perfect clothes. Perfect bodies. And here you were a fraud playing dress up and feeling like a potato. The anxiety welled up inside, breaking you out in a cold sweat. You’d promised Gressil an hour. One hour. And then you could leave. And after about fifteen minutes you decided you could do this. It’s not like anyone was noticing you anyway. You’d made your appearance, now you just had about forty-five more minutes that would have earned you a nice bonus you could use at Christmas.

“You’d think a place like this would have hired decent help.” A man smiled at you snidely. You weren’t sure what exactly he was, but he definitely wasn’t human. Not with the green skin and scales. “Do be a dear and run and fetch us some more champagne, won’t you? If you’re quite done gawking.” He looked back at his companion snickering, “Humans… barely worth the effort to impress really.”

You looked behind you, trying to figure out who he was talking to, when it dawned on you that he was talking ...to you. “I’m not sure what you’re thinking… but I don’t work here. I’m a guest, like you.”

“Oh, that’s cute. You’re nothing like me.” His smile took on an ugly bent to it. “It’s insulting that you think so.”

A deep laugh came from behind the green-skinned fellow, “You’re right about one thing. She’s nothing like the boil on the devil’s arse you are, Heulog.” A tall man stepped around them. He looked ...more human than the green skinned man, at first glance. But it was clear that he wore only the thinnest veil of humanity around him. His eyes were like molten silver and the pupils were cat slitted. And his face … he had to be the most beautiful man you’d ever seen. “Come on, my dear. Let’s leave these jackeens to their own devices.” He took your hand, deftly steering you away.

Jackeens? Who even said that? He sounded vaguely European, but for the life of you, you couldn’t place the accent. Scottish maybe? With a hint of something exotic?

He found a spot out of the way, a place for you to finally sit down as he handed you a glass of wine. “Dreadful party, really. Such a bore. I’m Ash, by the way.”

Introducing yourself as well, you took the wine. “Thank you for that.” You glanced around, not seeing the two jerks any longer.

“They aren’t going to be bothering anyone here again.” He took a sip of his own drink. “And you’re welcome. I should be thanking you for giving me some noble purpose by saving a lovely maiden.”

Your cheeks flushed at the ‘lovely maiden’ bit. As handsome as he was well, he probably just flirted with anyone and everyone. Giving him a wan smile, “I’m fine now really. If you want to get back to ..whoever you’re with here.”

“Ah, well, I’m not with anyone.” Oh he knew a few people here. And liked even less. Which was saying something for the gregarious prince. He sat down, “Maybe we can keep each other company until this thing is over? At least keep each other awake?”

Laughing a bit wryly, “That hard up for company?” Why was he even paying attention to you when… you looked out across the room and saw a sea of beauty that you couldn’t possibly compare to no matter how hard you tried.

“I think you’re lovely company.” He gently tilted your chin, bringing your gaze back to his, “Inside and out.” He let out a slow breath, “Besides, you’re exactly what you appear to be and you have no idea how alluring that is for a change.”

“What do you mean?” It was a struggle to look away from those beautiful eyes, but you managed a glance back out to the crowd.

He shrugged as he leaned back. “Just what I said. You can’t see it, but that…” He tossed his head towards the crowd, “...is not what you think it is.”

Well, that wasn’t nerve wracking at all. You knew Gressil wore a human guise, but you had never really thought beyond what was under it. “Are you telling me that everyone here is a monster?”

“In one way or another, yes.” He didn’t seem particularly offended that you referred to them, ...or him, as a monster.

“Even you?” Perhaps not the wisest question to ask, but the words had already left your liips.

Gressil had warned you once, “The illusions keep you humans safe, Don’t try to look past them.” And you’d tried not to wonder, accepting what you saw as what was real. But you couldn’t believe this gorgeous man sitting beside you was ...a monster. Even if he wasn’t human.

“Perhaps especially me.”

“I don’t believe it. You’re not human, but that doesn’t make you a monster.” You saw a look in his eyes as he sat back up leaning closer to you. A look you couldn’t name, some emotion that was so fleeting. Longing? Almost pleading with a hint of vulnerability and then it was gone. Leaving you to wonder if you had just imagined it.

As you chatted, a new crowd of people wandered in and that’s when you saw him. Your ex. What in the hell was he doing here? “I have to go. I have to.” You stood, nearly losing your balance as you grabbed your purse.

Ash reached to steady you, catching you by your elbow, feeling your panic rise. He glanced over to where your eyes kept darting to. “Who is he?” There was a hint of steel in his voice underneath the silk.

You shook your head. “Nothing like that. Just …” Dropping your head, embarrassed at your overreaction. “...a very bad decision that I let go on for longer than it should have. I just never expected to see him here.” He hadn’t noticed you yet, you could still slip out.

A ...goblin? Ash could see through the glamour, but he doubted you could. “You have nothing to be ashamed of.” He rose. “Don’t run. He’s not worth it.” Tucking your arm in his, he stroked your cheek, “Please?”

Shaking your head, “I have fifteen more minutes and I can go home.”

Ash glanced up at the giant, ornate clock. “It’s not even close to midnight yet.” He grinned, knowing it was a cheesy reference. “Stay until then. Be my Cinderella?”

You scoffed, “You cannot be serious. This isn’t some fairy tale. Why would you want to be Prince Charming ...to me?”

“Darling, why wouldn’t I?” He frowned, clearly confused.

Hot tears burned at your eyes and throat, but you’d be damned if you cried and ruined your makeup. “Because I’m a pumpkin not a princess?”

Brushing aside the traitorous tear that slipped down your cheek, “Darling...whoever told you that you weren’t beautiful lied. They were afraid if you knew your worth, you’d know you were too good for them.” He kissed your forehead and for some reason it calmed you. If he had hugged you instead, you were sure you would have ended up sobbing in his arms. “There is a reason fae have stolen humans and taken them as lovers for eons past. You are beautiful.”

“You’re fae?” You swallowed back a sob at his words.

His laugh surprised both of you. All of that only to ask if he was fae. Though, he was not offended, letting you move the conversation to less emotional territory. “Yes. My mother was.”

At least until you asked, “And your father?”

There was a flash in his eyes, bitter and sharp, “My father was not.” It was gentle, but it was also obviously a closed subject for him. “Come. If you wish to avoid him, we can find a secluded spot and watch the party from the safety of a glamour. Or you can venture out and be treated like the princess you deserve to be.”

It was a tempting choice, to hide. But after thinking for a moment, “You won’t suddenly disappear?”

“Not without you.” Ash grinned, taking your hand and leading you out into the crowd.

The two of you danced and he did introduce you to some people you could bring back to Gressil as potential clients. One of whom addressed your ‘date’...(was this a date??) as ‘your highness’.

Once they’d wandered off and you were alone again, you leaned close to whisper. “You’re an actual prince?”

“An actual prince.” He nodded clearly amused at your shock.

“Your mother’s the queen?” You felt just a touch lightheaded at this revelation.

“Sister, actually. It’s a bit complicated, but yes, she’s the queen, and as her younger brother, I’m a prince.” He spoke of it as if it were no consequence, though in truth, it was. He hadn’t been born into the role, both he and his sister had earned the right to be called fae royalty. It had been no easy thing for either of them. “It doesn’t change who I was five minutes ago.”

The idea of being with a prince was a bit daunting to say the least, but perhaps he was right. He was who he was, title or not.

It seemed like the hours flew by and before long the clock started the midnight chime. The two of you had found a quiet balcony, away from the noise and it seemed like the rest of the world had faded away. And you didn’t want this to end.

“It doesn’t have to…”

Blushing you realized you’d said it out loud, “It does. I go back to work tomorrow and you go back to Neverland, or wherever it is you came from.”

“I can always return, you know. Or you could ...come visit. I promise I won’t steal you away unless you want me to.” He brushed a kiss over your knuckles. “If you’re interested, that is.”

“IF? If I’m interested?” You couldn’t quite believe this was all happening, especially that he’d want to see you again.

“Are you?” A smile played at his lips as he brushed a loose strand of hair away from your face, leaning closer as if he was going to kiss you.

You were barely able to get out a whispered ‘yes’ as the clock struck midnight and his lips touched yours.

#Until Midnight #Happy birthday Kat #Ash x reader #Fluff #Fluff and comfort

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ella-se-vuelve-loca · 4 years

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Make My Wish Come True | Whoever You Want (6th Day of 🎄)

It’s officially the 6th day of Christmas! We’re halfway through this you guys! I hope you’re enjoying my stories! 💕

(Credits to the owner of this gif!!!)

‘Mi amor,

I have a little surprise for you this Christmas. Now bare with me, I know you can get a little impatient at times, but I had this day all planned out just for you. I wrote a couple of letters and placed them around the city. I want you to follow them for me, baby. Your friend Cristina will come by in a bit to pick you up and take you to your next letter – more instructions will follow throughout the day. I hope you love your flower, make sure to take it with you everywhere you go today. You’ll see me very soon. I can’t wait to see you. Te amo. x’

I looked down at the letter in front of me and wondered what he had planned for today. I had woken up to an empty bed and had gone to the kitchen to make myself something to eat, only to find breakfast already made and set on our table. A single rose rested in a glass vase with this letter attached to it.

The smell of pancakes infiltrated my nose as my mouth began to salivate at the glorious scent. I warmed myself up a cup of coffee, sat down and took a bite of the food. “Mmm…” I smiled and mentally thanked him for this wonderful surprise, but I did wish he was here so we could be eating this together.

After breakfast, I had gone into my room to quickly get ready. Cristina had texted me saying that she was gonna be here soon, so I might as well get ready quickly. I simple pair of jeans and a cute top ought to be okay.

My phone rang when I finished putting my shoes on.

“Hello?” I answered as I picked up the phone. “Hey! I’m right outside!”

“Okay, I’ll be there in a sec.” I hung up, quickly slipped on my jacket, locked the front door and walked over to her car. “I’m here!” I laughed and got inside, setting my things aside as she started her car once again. “So, Cristina, my love, haha where are we going first?” She smiled and started driving away.

“Oh girl, that’s a surprise.”

We sang along to some music that played on the radio as she continued to drive to our destination, until she stopped and parked the car in front of a hair salon. “Um… what are we doing here?” I asked as she unbuckled her seatbelt. “Surprise.” She laughed. “This is our first stop.”

“I’m – what? Wait, hold up..” She got out of the car and I followed after her. “A hair salon? You’re not telling me that I’m gonna..” she nodded her head and took my hand in hers. “C’mon!” We walked inside and was greeted by the people here. “Hi, can I help you two girls today?” The lady asked as she stood behind the counter.

“Yes, we have a reservation for Ms. (L/N).” Cristina responded and the lady nodded. “Oh, you’re Ms. (L/N)?” She asked as I nodded. “I actually have something for you..” She crouched down, grabbed something from under the counter and came back up with a rose and a single note. “Here you are.” She smiled and handed them to me.

“Oh, thank you.” I shyly smiled and grabbed the small gifts.

‘Baby,

Surprise! I know you’ve been saying you want to go get your hair done again really soon, so I booked an appointment and I want you to treat yourself with a new hairstyle and get your make up done. Don’t worry about paying for it, I already got that covered. I can’t wait to see you mi amor. x’

Well… this is going to be interesting. I looked through the hairstyles and colors I might want to try out until I found one that spoke to me the most. The lady called my name and I sat on one of the chris styling chairs there and showed her what type of style I’m going for.

“Let’s get this started..”

“Girl, you look amazing!” Cristina spoke as we got inside her car. “It totally suits you!”

“You’re makin’ me blush over here.” I laughed and grabbed my two roses in my hands. “It’s the truth.” She smiled as she started the car. “Okay, Uber driver, where are we off to next?”

“Oh wow, so I went from friend to Uber. What an upgrade.” She joked as she started driving to our next destination. “And just because of that, I won’t tell you where we’re off to next.”

“You weren’t gonna tell me anyways, weren’t you?”

“Nope.” She smiled. We continued to talk and joke about things going on in our lives as she parked outside of a nail salon. “… Nails?” She nodded and hopped out as I followed after.

“(Y/N)! Cristina!” I heard my friend Alexis yell as she came over to greet us. “Hey! How are you?”

“I’m doing great! How about you?”

“I’m doing amazing. Oh! I have something for you.” She had us follow her to a nail technician and told her that we have an appointment already set for us at this time. “Is this her?” The lady spoke as she saw me approach her. “She sure is.” Alexis spoke as we now stood right in front of her.

“Give me one second..” She reached below her desk and pulled out a rose and surprise surprise, there was a letter attached to it. “Here you go.” She smiled as she handed it to me. “Thank you.” I smiled and took the gift.

‘Princesa,

Go get your nails done, baby. I took it upon myself to pay for you and your friends because why not? Everyone deserves to get pampered every once in a while… and plus, I love having your nails scratch down my back as I… well, you know ;) anyways, I’m counting down the time until I can see you. I hope you’re loving my little surprises for you. x’

“We’re getting our nails done, girls!” I spoke as they cheered. “We’re getting treated like queens today!” Cristina spoke as each of us sat down on the chairs. We got manicures and pedicures together as we gossiped about everything. I haven’t done this in a while with some friends and it honestly just felt so good to be able to see them and chat with them again. When we were done and we went back to Cristina’s car, I just had to ask again because now I’m getting really interested in what’s really going on.

“Okay, I’m gonna try again… where are we heading to next?”

“Girl, you know neither one of us are gonna tell you.”

“It’s a surprise!”

“But I really wanna know! I’m all anxious and excited now. Please? I’m dying to know!” They both shook their heads and got strapped in, as did I. “Man, y’all suck.”

“Yeah, but we both know who’s dick you’re sucking.” Alexis spoke as Cristina let out a loud laugh. “Oh, you bitch!” I laughed. “Shut up!”

“We’re going… shopping!” Cristina spoke as she parked her car. “Yes, because you need an outfit change.” Alexis said as we all got out of the car. “What? My outfit isn’t bad today.”

“No… but you’re gonna need one for what’s gonna happen later on.” We walked inside the building and went straight for the clothes. “Where is she?” I heard Cristina ask as we were walking through the aisles. “You looking for me?” We turned and saw Daniella standing behind us. “You guys took longer than I thought.”

“We got a little busy.” Alexis spoke as we all took turns greeting her. “This is for you.” She spoke as she gave me another rose and letter. “Oh my God, this doesn’t end.” I laughed and read the letter.

‘Bebecita,

You know you feel good on the inside when you look good on the outside. So, you can already tell where I’m going with this. Treat yourself with a brand new outfit and strut your stuff! I can’t wait to slip it off of you later ;) make it easy for me, yeah? I can just imagine how beautiful you look like right now. Don’t worry, baby. I’ll see you really really soon. These little surprises are almost over. I still have two more things up my sleeve. x’

“Okay, mission: help (Y/N) look sexy and cute as fuck tonight.” Cristina spoke as they all got to work to find the “perfect dress”. We looked through all of the pretty dresses the store had to offer until we had our own little stack of clothes in our hands. They brought me over to the fitting rooms and gave me a few dresses to try on. The conversations and comments went something like…

“It looks cute, but where are we gonna find shoes to match?”

“Hmm… it’s way too long. It’s like a curtain, no offence.”

“I like the color, but the design is ehh…”

“(Y/N), babe… it’s a no.”

“This one’s way too short. I mean, your ass looks great but this is not the right dress for this occasion.”

It was just an endless loop of me trying on a dress, them telling me different comments and I end up trying on something different. “I have a good feeling about the next one – I know it!” I walked back into the dressing room and slipped off the dress. I grabbed the next one off the hanger and tried it on.

“So, after this, do you wanna go and get some coffee together?”

“I had one before you got here.”

“What? Really?”

“Well, yeah! You guys were taking forever doing - … oh.. my.. God…” Daniella stopped speaking when she saw me get out of the room and walk in front of them. “What do we think?” I asked.

“You look so hot! Oh my – ”

“Yes! Yes! Yes!”

“Girl, you look amazing.”

I twirled around in the dress and laughed. “I love it. It’s so comfortable, it’s not too tight, not too short or long… it’s in our price range.” I smiled.

“He’s gonna be speechless when he sees you.” I went back into the changing room to put my regular clothes in a bag, I came out with the dress in my hands but I didn’t see Daniella anywhere. “Hey, where’s Dani?” I asked. “Oh, she went to the bathroom real quick. C’mon, let’s go and pay for the dress!” Cristina spoke as we started making our way to the cashier. “You guys really don’t have to do this. I have my card with me right now.”

“We know, but we’re buying it for you. I don’t want you to spend a single cent right now.” After having bought the dress, we waited off to the side for Dani to come with us. I looked over and saw her walking towards us with a bag in her hands.

“What’s this?”

She handed the bag to me and smiled. “A gift.” I shook my head. “Dani, this is so sweet but – ”

“You need shoes to match with that dress. It’s a gift from me to you. You can pay us back later some other day. I’m thinking breakfast.” She laughed as I took the bag in my hands. “Thank you.. all of you.” They are honestly the best friends a girl can ask for.

They took me to a bathroom somewhere in the store so I could try the whole outfit on together before we left to Cristina’s car. I feel good, I look good… I feel amazing right about now.

“Why did we stop here?” I asked as I took my flowers in my hands and got out of the car with them. “You’ll see.” Alexis spoke as we walked down the street until we stopped in front of a horse carriage. “Oh my God..” I muttered. “Hop in.” Cristina spoke as I stood in front of the three of them. “No way… he didn’t actually..” Daniella nodded as Alexis laughed. “Girl, just go in! He’ll take you where you need to go next.”

I turned and gave them all a hug before I hopped in. “If this is some type of trick..”

“It’s not! We promise!”

The man made sure I was safely strapped in and handed me a rose with a letter when he was done. “This is for you, Ms. (L/N).” He smiled and walked to the front of the carriage before hopping on himself.

‘Mi vida,

I know you’ve been waiting all day to see me. Well, now the time’s finally come. I can’t tell you how nervous I actually am to see you. Don’t ask me why just yet, you’ll see soon enough. Baby, this whole thing may be a little cliché, but I don’t care because I wouldn’t want to do this with anyone else but you. I’ve been planning this little adventure for a while now and all I can hope is that you’ll say “yes”. I love you, mi amor. I’ll see you in a few minutes. x’

Say “yes”? Say yes to what? I looked at the small bouquet of flowers in my hands and smiled. He’s honestly the sweetest and most romantic guy I’ve ever met. We continued on this little horse carriage ride for a few minutes, taking a little stroll around the town, until he came to a stop. “This is as far as I can take you, Ms.”

I got off the carriage and looked around and saw we stopped at a park. “Just follow the lights. He’s on the other side.” He smiled and trotted away.

There wasn’t really anyone at the park this late at night, but I followed the lights like he told me. I could hear hear soft music playing ahead of me, so I hurried along until I stopped at the entrance to a gazebo. There he was… standing there…

He turned around and looked at me, a flower in his hands and his mouth slightly open. “Mi amor… you look… gorgeous..” He held out his hand with the flower and I walked over to him and took it. “You don’t look too bad yourself.” I laughed as he slowly spun me around. I looked inside the gazebo and saw so many lights surrounding us. It looked so magical.

"Will you honor me with a dance?” He asked as he played a slow song for the two of us to dance to. “It would be my pleasure.” I smiled.

He placed one of his hands on my waist and brought me closer to him while his other hand held onto my own. I placed one of my hands on his bicep as he slowly led the two of us into a waltz. “So, what’s the occasion? I know it’s close to Christmas and all, but why did you do this?”

He spun me around and laughed. “Well, it’s a very special occasion if you ask me. In fact, it’s a really important one.”

“Really?” He nodded. “Tonight, hopefully, is the start of… a new beginning, if you will.” Confused, I tilted my head and looked up at him. “What do you mean?”

He waited a few moments before answering my question. “What – What I mean is… we’ve been together for a long time now. I’m lucky to be with someone who’s not only my girlfriend, but my best friend. You are just so amazing and I’m so happy I found you.” Heat spread across my face as he continued.

“Baby, I’ve been waiting to ask you something for a few months now…” We stopped dancing as he slowly got down on one knee and took out a small black velvet box. “Oh my God…”

“(Y/N), mi amor… you are the one person I want to wake up next to for the rest of my life. The one person who makes me a better person and can make me laugh whenever I’m upset. The one person I want to start a family with..” I can feel tears brimming from my eyes as I couldn’t believe this was actually happening. He opened the small box and inside was a ring.

“(Y/N)… quieres casarte conmigo?”

I nodded my head and spoke. “Yes.. yes, a hundred times yes in every language.” He smiled and slid the ring onto my finger, stood up, cupped my cheek and brought me up to his lips to meet me in a kiss.

“Te amo, mi amor… my fiancé…” He smiled and kissed me once more. “Te amo.”

#Alondra’s 12 Days of Christmas #cncowners #cnco imagines #joel pimentel #richard camacho #erick brian colon #christopher vélez #zabdiel de jesús #joel pimentel imagines #richard camacho imagines #erick brian colon imagines #christopher velez imagines #zabdiel de jesús imagine #joel christmas imagine #richard christmas imagine #erick christmas imagine #christopher christmas imagine

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arysafics · 5 years

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Cherry

Rated E, ~3,500 words

Summary: When Finn dumps her because he's sick of dating a virgin, Clarke asks Bellamy to take her virginity instead. Written for the 2019 kink meme.

Clarke huffs, blowing out the single candle on the table in front of her in annoyance. Finn left twenty-minutes ago, but she’s half been expecting him to come back and apologise and beg her to take him back. She wants to think that if he did, she’d be strong enough to tell him to get fucked. But she knows she’d take him back. Not because she’s insanely in love with him or anything. Just because at this point, he’s her best chance at losing her virginity before she’s seventy.

And okay, she knows twenty-two isn’t that old. But she’s just so fucking horny all the time. Except, apparently, when Finn is about to fuck her. They’ve been dating two months, and Clarke realises that that’s a long time for a guy to wait for sex in this day and age. And she wants to have sex. She really wants to have sex. She’ll be making out with Finn on the couch, sure for a second that she’s ready. But the second his pants come off, she freaks out. She supposes she can’t really blame him for walking out this time.

There’s a knock at the door, and Clarke perks up. She knows it’s not Finn. That ship had sailed when she read his tweet three minutes ago.

@finncoolins: note 2 all my fellow men: virgins r not wrth the hassel

Yeah, real classy. She’s beginning to think she’s well shot of him.

It’s Bellamy at the door. She’d texted him just after she read the tweet. He’s her go to for relationship advice, seeing as he’s twelve years older than her and claims he’s been through it all already. He hit on her, the first day she moved in across the hall from him. She thought maybe he’d take her virginity. She was only eighteen then, and it seemed like less of a big deal, but still something she was very interested in doing. Especially with her hot neighbour. But then he found out how old she was and quickly backed off, inserting himself into the role of somewhere between “caring older brother” and “snarky but supportive best friend.”

“How’d it go?” he asks as soon as Clarke opens the door.

“He left,” Clarke says, trying not to seem too upset about it. “He wanted to skip the dinner and wine and go straight to the sex and I tried, I really tried! But I couldn’t do it. Then he said he was done waiting around and to have fun being a virgin forever.” Clarke can’t keep the tremble out of her voice this time, and within an instant, Bellamy is pulling her into his arms, crushing her to his chest.

“Hey,” he coos. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Finn is an idiot anyway. You deserve someone who would wait years for you. And you have plenty of time to lose your virginity.”

Clarke breathes in the scent of him, that distinct manly smell of the cologne he always uses. It does something to her, that smell. Makes her insides all gooey, her knees go weak, her heart race. That, plus the feel of his muscular arms wrapped around her tiny body, and him calling her sweetheart, is enough to make her head go fuzzy, and she completely forgets about Finn for a minute. Yeah, she might have a tiny crush on Bellamy. Too bad it will never go anywhere.

Bellamy breaks the hug, keeping his hands on her shoulders as he looks down at her.

“You okay?”

Clarke nods. Apart from being hornier now than when Finn was kissing her earlier, she’s fine.

“Do you want some food?” She gestures to the table where she has a fruit platter and an antipasto platter neatly arranged.

“Well, since you went to all the trouble,” Bellamy smiles at her. She leads him to the table and sits down across from him. She’d eaten most of the strawberries while she was waiting for Finn to arrive, hoping the supposed aphrodisiac would get her in the mood. Bellamy reaches for a cherry, not breaking eye contact as he pops it into his mouth. The only cherry getting popped tonight, unfortunately.

She pours him a glass of red wine, and half the amount for herself. She’s more of a rose girl herself.

When she looks up from her glass, her averts his eyes quickly, turning slightly red, as if he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t. He takes a couple of big gulps from his glass.

“What?” she asks.

Bellamy shakes his head. He takes another sip. “Nothing. Are you sure you’re okay?”

Clarke shrugs. “I feel foolish more than anything else. It’s not like I don’t want to have sex! I don’t get why I can’t just get over whatever dumb thing is in my head and just do it.”

“Maybe it’s because deep down you don’t trust him. Don’t feel comfortable with him. You can sense that he’s only after his own pleasure, doesn’t really care about yours,” Bellamy suggests.

Clarke swallows. Somehow, he’s managed to hit the nail on the head, without Clarke even knowing that’s what the problem was.

“But like I said, Finn is an idiot. To waste all this effort you went to, to make this evening special. The food, the candles, the wine. And you got all dressed up too,” Bellamy says, his eyes darting towards her cleavage for a fraction of a second before meeting her eyes. Clarke flushes. It’s not the first time she’s caught him looking at her like that. He’s always careful to keep somewhat of a wall between them, like maybe he knows about her huge crush on him and doesn’t want to lead her on. He’d never touch her, she knows that. But he still looks at her. She likes it when he looks at her.

“I bought this dress especially for tonight,” she tells him. She stands up, to show him. It’s tight, and black, and very low cut. She’s well aware that her tits are her best asset. But she’s also not shy about showing some leg, and the dress stops just above mid-thigh. Where Bellamy’s eyes currently rest. He drags them up to hers again. “And new panties too.”

“Well,” Bellamy says, his voice sounding a little strangled. “It’s a shame he never got to see them.”

“Do you think he thinks I’m ugly? That’s why he wouldn’t wait longer to have sex with me?” Clarke asks. She knows very well that’s not the case. She just wants Bellamy to tell her she’s pretty, that any man would be lucky to have her.

“Of course not, Clarke. He’d have to be blind to think that. You’re fucking gorgeous, sweetheart,” Bellamy tells her. “You’re every man’s fantasy.”

Later tonight, after Bellamy is gone, she’ll press her vibrator to her clit and think about him calling her gorgeous. Except in her fantasy, he’ll be saying it with his cock between her thighs and his mouth on her neck.

Then she registers the next thing he said. Every man’s fantasy. Including his? Does he think about her when he touches himself at night, the way she does about him?

“Most men,” he corrects quickly, realising his slip up. He clears his throat, standing up abruptly. “I should probably go.”

Clarke bites her lip. “Will you stay and watch a movie with me? I don’t really want to be alone right now.”

Bellamy hesitates. Clarke bats her eyelashes at him, silently pleading for him to stay. He sighs.

“Okay. One movie.”

Clarke puts on Never Been Kissed, which is kind of apt, seeing as Clarke has Never Been Fucked. She curls up next to Bellamy, wishes he would let her sit on his lap, but she knows he’d never go for it. He puts her arm around her though, and Clarke snuggles into his side. She spends most of the movie fantasising about leaning down and sucking his dick. Or about him slipping his hand between her legs and teasing her until she can’t think straight. By the time the movie ends, she’s absolutely soaked. She’s sure he must be able to smell the arousal on her.

The credits roll, and Clarke pretends to be asleep, hoping he won’t want to wake her, and that will make him stay. She feels him shift, and his arm stays around her shoulders, but the other one slides under her knees, and then he’s lifting her from the couch and carrying her down the hall to her bedroom.

She opens her eyes, looking up at him, and he gives her a wry smile. “Did I wake you? Or were you pretending to be asleep?”

“Pretending,” Clarke admits. He doesn’t put her down until they reach her room.

“Time for bed,” he tells her. Clarke wishes he would come to bed with her.

“I want to get changed first. This dress is so uncomfortable. Will you unzip me?” She turns around, sweeping her hair over her shoulder to give him access to the zip. He steps up behind her, probably closer than necessary. He presses one hand to her waist as the other drags the zip down. His fingertips graze her ass as he pulls his hands away. An accident? Clarke glances over her shoulder at him. His jaw clenches.

“Thanks,” she says. She wriggles out of the dress and lets it fall to the ground. Bellamy says nothing as she reaches for the shirt she usually sleeps in, where it lies crumpled on the bed. She slips it over her head and turns around. It barely covers her sheer panties.

“Isn’t that my shirt?” Bellamy asks her. She looks down. She may have stolen this from him.

“Yes,” Clarke says, looking back up at him. “Do you mind?”

Bellamy shakes his head. “I should go,” he says, without conviction.

“Do I get a kiss goodnight?”

She expects him to roll his eyes at her, find her cute but amusing. Ruffle her hair and leave. But he steps even closer, leans down and presses a kiss against her cheek, lingering there much longer than necessary. Clarke turns her head slightly, and their lips are only a centimetre apart.

It’s Bellamy that closes the gap, and Clarke lets out a whimper as his mouth comes down on hers. His hands close around her waist, bunching her shirt up, and he pulls her against his chest. She can his cock pressing against her, hard and insistent. Her cunt throbs.

He pulls back, stroking her belly with his thumb through her shirt. He looks down, swallowing.

“Bell,” Clarke whispers. “I want you to be my first.”

“I know you do, baby,” Bellamy murmurs. He presses a kiss to the top of her head. “I want that too. But you’re so young. I feel like I’m taking advantage.”

“Isn’t that a little bit why you want me?” Clarke says. Bellamy squeezes his eyes shut, like he knows he’s been caught out. “Please, Bellamy. Show me how it feels. Tell me what to do. I’ll do whatever you say.”

“Will you just?” he says. Clarke nods. Bellamy doesn’t break eye contact as he drops his hand from her waist and rests it on the outside of her thigh. Clarke’s heart thrums with anticipation as his fingers dance across her skin, towards her throbbing cunt. He presses the pads of two of his fingers against the wet patch on her panties.

“You’re dripping,” he says. “You’ve been thinking about this all night, haven’t you?”

“Uh huh.”

“You got yourself all wet, just for me. Didn’t you, sweetheart?” He presses harder, his fingers pressing through her panties and into her slit.

“Yes.”

“Such a good girl.” Clarke flushes, a new surge of wetness leaking from her pussy. Bellamy pulls his hand from between her legs, then guides her back until she’s sitting on the bed. She looks up at him, her big blue eyes waiting for him to tell her what comes next.

Bellamy drops to his knees in front of her, then lifts her shirt, his eyes focused on her see-through panties. “Are these the panties you bought for Finn?” Clarke nods. “How about you take them off huh? You don’t need to be reminded of him.”

“Okay,” Clarke says. She hooks her thumbs in the waistband of her panties. She pauses, feeling suddenly nervous. She’s never shown herself to a man before.

“Come on, sweetheart. Show me that pretty pussy you’ve been saving for me, like a good girl.”

Clarke whimpers, lifting her ass from the bed so she can drag her soaked panties down. Bellamy takes them from her and tucks them into his pocket.

“Good girl,” he coos. His hands rest on her calves, stroking her lightly, his eyes on her exposed pussy. Clarke squirms under his heated gaze. “I like my girl better without panties anyway.”

“Your girl?”

“Yeah, sweetheart, you’re my girl. That okay?”

Clarke nods shyly.

“You want me to eat you out? Get you nice and ready for my cock?” Bellamy asks her.

Clarke shakes her head. “I’m ready now.”

“Are you now?” Bellamy chuckles. “Let me see.” He slides his hands up her legs and she parts them for him. He puts his fingers to her sopping cunt, spreading her pussy lips and dipping a finger inside her, only slightly. He pulls his finger away, coated with her juices. Clarke’s eyes widen as he sucks it into his mouth. “Okay,” he says. “But I get to eat you out another time.”

Clarke nods eagerly, excited at the prospect that there already might be another time. Bellamy gets to his feet. He grabs the hem of her shirt. His shirt.

“Time for this to come off,” he tells her, pulling it upwards. Clarke lifts her arms so her can pull it off her. Then she’s naked in front of him. The most naked she’s ever been in front of a man. He looks down at her, appraising her body, and part of her feels like she should be embarrassed, but she loves the way his eyes rake over her, drinking her in.

He leans down to kiss her. “You are so beautiful,” he says. “I’m so happy I get to be your first.”

He takes his own shirt off then, and it’s erotic, the way his muscles move as he pulls it over his head and throws it aside. Then he’s undoing his jeans, and Clarke’s heart is speeding up. This is the part that normally makes her freak out. But she’s not freaking out now. She watching in anticipation, desperate to see his cock. She’s been desperate for it since the first day she met him, if she’s being honest. He drops his pants, and then his boxers. Clarke almost moans at the sight of his cock.

She has no clue how big Finn’s dick was. She never saw it. Grinded herself against it a couple of times, and from what she could feel it was nothing special. Bellamy’s cock, on the other hand, is nothing short of magnificent. It’s long and thick and hard and she wants it all to herself. She’s not entirely sure it will fit inside her. But fuck it if she’s not going to try.

“You okay, baby?” he asks her.

Clarke nods. “Will it fit in me?”

“I know you can take it,” Bellamy says. “We’ll go nice and slow, okay?”

Clarke nods. Bellamy kisses her again, gently, then pushes her onto her back. She scoots up the bed a little to give him room to climb on top of her. His huge cock bobs in front of her. After he’s done fucking her, she wants to put it in her mouth.

“Are you on the pill?” he asks her. “I’d rather do this without a condom, but I’ll get one if you want me to.”

“I’m on the pill,” Clarke says quickly. She’s glad she made that decision. She doesn’t want to waste time messing around with a condom.

“Do you trust me?” Bellamy asks.

“Yes,” Clarke nods. “More than anyone.”

“I’m going to fuck you so good, Clarke, I promise,” he tells her. “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” Clarke whines. “Please.”

She feels his cock press against her entrance. She holds her breath as she waits for him to push into her.

“Clarke, sweetheart,” Bellamy says, kissing her jaw. “Relax. Breathe. You’re okay.”

Clarke takes a deep breath. He’s right, she’s okay. She wants this. Wants it so bad. He pushes the head of his cock into her, and she gasps. She feels like he’s stretching he so wide already.

“How does that feel, baby? Okay?”

More than okay. Definitely more than okay. But words evade her right now, so she just nods.

“Good girl,” Bellamy says. The words do something to her, and it’s like it’s suddenly easier for him to push in a little further. “You’re doing so well, Clarke. You’re halfway there.”

Clarke whimpers. Only half? She fills full to the brim already. “Keep going,” she tells him. “I want it all.”

“I know, baby, and you’ll get it all,” Bellamy says. He pushes into her further. She can feel herself opening up to accommodate him. With one last push he’s all the way inside her.

“Oh god, Bell,” Clarke whines. “You feel so big inside me.”

“That’s my girl,” Bellamy says. “You took the whole thing, didn’t you, sweet thing? I knew you could do it. I’m so proud. You took your first cock like it’s what you were made to do.”

Clarke’s cunt clenches around him. So this is what she’s been missing. She squirms against him, loving the feel of him inside her, filling her up, but needing more.

“What’s wrong, baby?” Bellamy asks, though Clarke is pretty sure he knows exactly what’s wrong.

“I need—” she moans.

“Tell me what you need.”

“I need you to fuck me. Please. I want to be fucked.”

“Of course you do,” Bellamy says knowingly. “And since you asked so nicely.”

He rocks his hips against her, grinding his cock into her, making her whole body spasm. He slowly rolls his hips into her, over and over, winding her up, agonisingly slow. Clarke feels like she’s losing her mind.

“Faster, please,” Clarke begs. “Harder.” Bellamy picks up the pace, just slightly. Clarke groans in impatience. “Fuck me properly,” she huffs.

“Bossy,” Bellamy chuckles. But he obeys her. He thrusts into her harder and faster, and Clarke can feel herself climbing towards orgasm. She whimpers and moans incoherently, unable to think straight with Bellamy’s cock driving into her. It’s better than she even imagined.

Her insides are tighter than they’ve ever been, and she feels like she’s about to shatter into a million pieces.

“Bell, Bell,” she pants. “I—I’m—”

“I know, I know,” he says. “You’re nearly there. Are you gonna come for me baby? Come on my cock, you can do it.”

It’s the words that send her over the edge, and she comes harder than she ever did when she was alone. She shudders through the aftershocks, still whining in pleasure.

“Are you going to come too?” Clarke asks. Because she needs him to, needs to know she can make him feel how he makes her feel.

“Yes,” he groans. “Your pussy is so tight, Clarke. I’m gonna come inside you. Want to claim you as mine with my come.”

“Yes,” Clarke moans.

“If someone else had fucked you first I would have lost my mind,” Bellamy says. “Your pussy is just for me. No one else.”

“Yes,” Clarke agrees. “I’m yours. My pussy is yours.”

Bellamy moans, shoves his cock into her hard, releases the contents of his balls into her, chanting her name over and over. He collapses on top of her, breathing hard. He presses a kiss to her collarbone.

“How was your first time, sweetheart?” he asks her, brushing the hair from her face.

“Perfect,” she giggles.

“You’re perfect,” he murmurs, kissing her softly.

“Bellamy? Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“How did you know?”

He meets her eyes. “How did I know what?”

“That I was saving myself for you.”

Bellamy smirks. “You could have had sex with anyone in the last four years, Clarke. But you didn’t. You couldn’t because you knew you already belonged to me. You always wanted it to be me.”

“But you never did anything about it. Why tonight?”

Bellamy shakes his head. “Just couldn’t help myself anymore, baby. You went to all that trouble with Finn and I couldn’t stand to disappoint you any longer.”

“Will you fuck me again?”

“Right now?”

“Ever.”

“Whenever you want,” he says. “I said you belong to me. That’s true. But I belong to you too, understand?”

Clarke nods. “What about now?”

Bellamy laughs. “God, you’re going to be a handful, aren’t you? Now that you’re not a virgin.”

“I was always a handful,” Clarke pouts, offended.

“True,” Bellamy agrees. “Just give me a minute, and I’ll give you whatever you want.”

#bellarke #bellarke fanfiction #the 100 #the 100 fanfiction #mine

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gottawriteanegoortwo · 5 years

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Darkstache Day 7: Flowers

Sometimes, flowers are a sweet way to show your affection for someone. This fic looks at one time Wilford bought Dark flowers, and one time Dark did likewise.

Word Count: 1,623

This week has been a blast! I was juggling work too, so I'm pretty exhausted, but I'm putting my all into it and am going to have a proper dive into what others have done! Thank you @projectdarkstache for running it!

This final fic is sponsored by the hope that I can provide a final dose of soft!Darkstache to wrap up a fantastic week of writing!

Wilford didn’t have a proper conversation with Dark in a full week. In times like these, arranging a dinner date in Wilford's apartment was the only way the reporter could make sure the entity was okay. After considering it for half the day, he made his way to the nearby florist. The moment he entered, the young owner of the store laughed, brushing their sunset-dyed hair out of their eyes.

“Ah, that's the sight of someone who's is trouble~” They teased, grabbing some wrap for the outside of the bouquet that would likely be ordered. “What did you do this time, Warfy?”

“Fer once, nothin’! I’ve barely seen him all week so I wanna make sure he's okay.” Wilford sauntered into the middle of the store, taking the wide array of flowers into consideration.

“The usual forty dollar bouquet?” The florist called over as they fetched some red roses - the staple of every bouquet Wilford bought. “Have you a colour scheme in mind?” By now, the reporter had begun plucking an array of colourful flowers.

“I'm thinkin’ some colours ta make things less gloomy. Maybe some yellow roses too ta spice things up?” As much as Wilford liked flowers, the ability to arrange them into a neat bouquet was something he couldn't quite master. Instead, he always enjoyed watching the florist do the work for him! Just as they were finishing up, Wilford’s attention drifted and was caught by something behind them.

“Wait, wait…” He trailed off, pushing away from the counter and walking toward the flowers on display. They were small, white flowers that almost looked like scrunched up tissue paper. “These… I feel like I've seen these before.”

“They're called 'carnations’,” the florist explained with a smile. Their head poked around the reporter as they lifted one. “White ones go well with any display, in my opinion. Should I add some in?” When Wilford nodded, the florist lifted several blooms and added them in as the final touch to the rainbow arrangement. Wilford brushed his thumb across one bloom. It certainly seemed familiar, and the idea of pinning one against Dark's suit jacket seemed perfect.

Even if Dark was associated with monochromatic settings with glimpses of red and blue, Wilford saw him as the rainbow breaking through after a storm. Life always seemed to make more sense with Dark there. Dark was the reason his world had more colour to it, that presence more than enough to bring peace to Wilford’s chaotic and unpredictable life. Dark was why Wilford made an effort to know what day and year it was; why he wrote in diaries to remember what they went through together, in case his memory faltered and let things slip through the cracks. The red roses in the middle symbolised Dark himself, and the colours spread out from there to show how one individual can have such an influence on another

Dark was tired. Yet despite it all, Wilford would always try and do what he could to cheer the entity up. Even when Dark would snap and order the reporter to leave, he would eventually return like a puppy who didn't understand what was going on but wanted to love their owner anyway.

It was only when Wilford didn't return after one such moment did Dark realise how he messed up. He would need to apologise. He was trying to encourage Wilford to eat better, so chocolates or alcohol were out of the question. Flowers were always a safe bet when he was the Mayor, and maybe it would be a safe bet now.

The small flower shop was empty when Dark stepped in. The older lady, who owned the premise with her husband, smiled at the familiar customer.

“Dante,” she greeted him warmly. “I don’t believe there are any orders for you or your work here.” Dark shook his head as he approached the counter.

“I was actually hoping if you would be able to arrange a bouquet for me. I… owe someone an apology.” A neatly folded up piece of paper was pulled out of his pocket. The list was skimmed one last time while waiting for the florist. Instead of reading it, he simply passed the page over to her. “I know you might not have all of these, but I will try and think of something else.”

“Not to worry, pet. You never know what we have in stock here. You wait here. I won’t be long~” With a little wag of her finger, she set off to work. It took fifteen minutes, and one long search in the back, but she managed to create a bouquet of everything Dark had requested - purple hyacinths, red carnations, red tulips, red chrysanthemum, red roses, white violets, and red poppies. As she wrapped a white ribbon around it, she giggled softly to herself.

“You’re giving him quite the letter, Dante.” She took the way his eyebrows raised as proof that she was right. “ ‘I’m sorry. My heart aches for you, and please believe me. I love you, I love you, so let’s take a chance on happiness’.” Each flower was pointed to as she explained it. “But I can’t understand the purpose of the poppies.” As Dante pulled out his credit card, a small smile graced his lips.

“He doesn’t know the language of flowers, but they say more than I can ever dare to. As for the poppies? They’re an important flower for him.”

Dark knew how woefully underprepared he was for love, no matter how much he had yearned for it. Sometimes he could act out and risk losing it all, but that was a fate he didn’t dare consider. Wilford meant the world to him. He felt the most human since he had been a Mayor, and it was all because of Wilford. He could see there was more to life than getting revenge. He was learning about parts of himself that he had almost forgotten about - the love of listening to music, reading, gardening, dancing. He had someone by his side when his body was struggling with various phantom pains from all the injuries from the Actor and DA’s bodies, and that even switching bodies couldn’t erase. Wilford was always there for him with items of warmth, medication, and physical comfort. Even on weeks like these, when any frustration Dark felt was redirected at the reporter, Wilford never strayed too far. How foolish would the entity be to let someone as perfect as that pass? He would swallow his pride and apologise over and over again if it meant that his fear of losing Wilford never came true.

Dark almost cancelled the date. The ribbon on the bouquet was nervously brushed with his thumb to try and keep him somewhat grounded. He had knocked the door, but there was no sign of Wilford yet. The reporter was normally quick to answer, so the delay was certainly not bringing forth any confidence. Several minutes passed, and Dark took a half-step back to leave.

The door opened.

“Dark! I am so sorry!” There was soot all over Wilford’s face. “I had ta stop a ragin’ cake from takin’ over th’ oven.” Part of his apron was used to wipe the soot away, and it was only then he noticed the giant bouquet in the entity’s hands. The flowers were mostly red, with a little dash of purple and white, and looked rather pretty. It was hard to read Wilford’s expression, and Dark’s heart plummeted to his stomach when Wilford began to laugh and pulled him inside before the entity could slip away. He brought Dark into the kitchen, dashed into the living room, and returned with…. A bouquet of his own. The rainbow one that he had helped make earlier that day. A grin as bright as a summer’s day was on Wilford’s face as he let Dark take in the baffling coincidence. At last, dread slipped away and a smile began to spread on Dark’s face.

“I thought ya, well, needed a little thing ta cheer ya up after yer stressful week.” Wilford gestured to the multicoloured array in his arms.

“I wanted to apologise for how awful I have been to you this week.” Dark tilted his own flowers slightly toward Wilford, before putting them on the nearby table. His eyes were drawn to the colourful display picked just for him. “Will… They’re beautiful. After how I’ve behaved, I don’t deserve this.”

“But ya do, my little doubtin’ darkness. Everyone has good an’ bad days. An’ if ya have these in yer office, then ya can remember that there’s more ta life than th’ work ya find yerself doin’.” Once the multi-coloured flowers were out of his hands, Wilford leaned down to kiss Dark’s forehead, before pulling out a white carnation and carefully placing it behind Dark’s ear.

“I knew it would look perfect on ya,” he murmured, though he was cut off by Dark reaching to the bouquet he bought so he could slip a poppy through a loose buttonhole. A cold hand then reached up to smooth that pink moustache.

“You are perfect. Far more perfect than anything I could have ever expected… My blossom.” That pet-name was enough for Wilford to put the bouquet aside and pull the entity into his arms for a tight embrace.

By the time Dark was going home, both had a bouquet of flowers. However, the two sets had been mixed together. It seemed fitting that the flowers ought to be rearranged to make the boldest statement in the language of flowers - both are spectacular by themselves, but the true beauty of Dark and Wilford is how much better they are when they can be together.

Bonus: Which flowers represented what in Dark’s message.

Purple hyacinth - I am sorry Red carnation - my heart aches for you Red tulip - believe me Red chrysanthemum - love Red rose - love you White violets - let’s take a chance on happiness (Red poppy - pleasure)

#projectdarkstache #darkstacheweek2019 #darkstacheweek #darkstache #writersofmark #Cracked Mirror (Dark)#Rose Petals (Wilford)#(hoo boy I am so proud of myself for getting seven prompts written!#and I am so sorry that all my prompts ended up being so long @.@; )

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ficdirectory · 6 years

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Somewhere Inside (Disuphere series #4) Chapter 46

(To listen, click here) - 17:19

For a while, there just aren’t words.

Levi can’t calm down. He can’t talk about this. But that’s the whole point of being able to go sceam by himself in the car, according to Dominique. It’s apparently a valid stage of this whole thing.

And if he’s honest? It means a ton that Dominique is willing to come out here with him. Even, to take a turn doing what he did. Because it’s more evidence that he’s not weird.

“She messed with all our stuff,” Levi manages. Because it’s easier to say than: She messed with me.

“I know…” Dominique manages, her own voice ragged. “I hate it. And I hate her.”

“I hate that she has so much power over me…” Levi ventures. He’s listening, but adding what he hates is also helping.

“I hate that she feels so entitled to your sister’s trauma that she’s showing up here like it’s hers.” Dominique comments bitterly.

“I hate that she made Jesus confront her when he’s already dealing with stuff…” Levi breathes.

“I hate that I felt so much fear. So much adrenaline. For myself...and for Frankie. That I...I’m embarrassed…” Dominique admits.

“Sometimes, I hate myself,” Levi comments softly. “Like as a kid...I just...thought I deserved it. Thought I was unlovable. So...I stuffed it down. I accepted it.”

“Well, what choice did you have?” Dominique wonders. Finally, she picks up the hot chocolate Pearl left. Tries a little. She hates to admit it, but it’s good. Hates to admit it, but the blanket does help some.

“Right…” Levi nods, mirroring her. He picks up the drink and sips, puckering as if it’s sour.

“What?” Dominique asks.

“It’s really sweet,” he manages. “They take the sugar thing serious, huh? That sugar helps take the edge off shock?”

“I guess so…” Dominique confirms. “Do you ever resent it? Safety? For lowering your guard? For making you vulnerable?”

Levi studies her. Then, very carefully, he nods. “I felt safe here. With all of you. And then…” he shrugs, imitating an explosion. “I hate not being in control of my body… ‘Cause that’s like the second time I’ve been sick about her in three days. I’m kinda over it…”

Dominique just nods. “My mom would probably say it’s a stress response. That it makes sense. Especially given that you...we...weren’t really allowed to be stressed out when it was happening. So that comes later. When, like, anything similar creeps in.”

“It helps to understand,” Levi manages, clearing his throat. “And it also doesn’t help at all…”

“I know what you mean.” Dominique nods. “I see her, and it’s like it’s all happening again.”

“I’m sorry,” Levi apologizes. He looks Dominique in the eye. “I shouldn’t have said anything. Then you and Jesus and Pearl especially wouldn’t have to be extra afraid. You could’ve just thought she was normal.”

“And what about you?” she challenges gently. “Then you’re walking around feeling like she killed your soul, and none of us are the wiser? No. I’m glad you told, Levi.”

“Still?” he asks. “Even though it pretty much ruined your trip?”

“Meeting you made my trip so much better. And I’m glad we’re here to support you while you’re dealing with all this...I definitely didn’t have that when it was me. Whenever I started dealing with it? Started feeling okay even talking about it? I got notes sent home from eighth grade. I got put on a behavior plan…” she comments ruefully.

“Oh, no way…” Levi shakes his head. “That sucks.”

“Yeah. All my teachers were like, ‘She’s being inappropriate,’ and there were meetings at the school with my parents. With all the professional white men in ties. So that was awesome…” Dominique comments bitterly.

Levi can just make out her voice shaking. Thinks the white men in ties comment is significant, but doesn’t ask for context. Because maybe it’s like how Levi feels his own guard go up around anyone who even kinda resembles Carla. How his heartbeat picks up. How he feels trapped and instantly looks for the quickest escape.

“I was a discipline problem,” Dominique says, laughing derisively. Tears shine in her eyes. “No one cared I just…” When it’s clear she won’t try to say more, Levi offers:

“And I was perfect. So no one bothered to look closer…”

He swallows more hot cocoa, like he used to swallow his secrets. But not anymore. He’s free to talk now. Even though his nerves feel destroyed, and he feels like it might be impossible to ever fully calm down again, it does help.

Knowing that if he talks to The Avoiders they’ll hear him. Listen. That they all take him seriously.

Levi pulls the blanket up around him. But it keeps slipping. So he tells Dominique he’s gotta stand up and put the blanket on like a cape. That he’s just gonna do that, and then sit again.

With the blanket securely around his shoulders and draped around the front of him, Levi feels a bit more protected.

“Thanks for telling me,” Dominique nods.

“Thanks for staying,” Levi returns.

Pearl agreed to walk with Francesca out onto the dock, providing she wear her life jacket. Francesca, it turned out, had requirements of her own, insisting that she could not walk down if she were rushed, and that she needed a hand to hold.

Now, they’re down safely, but Pearl has to admit it: she doesn’t feel safe.

“It’s kinda boring here,” Francesca observes, looking out at the lake.

A surprised laugh escapes Pearl. “Oh, what I wouldn’t give for a boring day…”

“How come?” Francesca asks. “Boring days are...well...boring.”

“Boring days are also calm. I could use a calm day,” she says.

“Are you sad your mom left?” Francesca checks. “Because, not to be rude, but I usually like it better away from my moms…”

“I hear you, sister,” Pearl says easily.

Now, it’s Francesca’s turn to laugh. “What if I really was your sister and my name was Francesca Rose West? That would be funny, huh?”

“I think that has a nice ring to it,” Pearl compliments.

There’s quiet.

“I’m still thinking how I’m jealous of you…” Francesca admits.

“Jealous of me? Why?” Pearl asks, shocked.

“‘Cause, you get to know who your dad is. You know he was nice. And that he wanted you. I don’t know any of that stuff,” Francesca comments. “All my brothers and sisters...no matter if they’re full adopted or half? All of them know who their dads are. Except me.”

“Have you gotten the chance to talk to Mariana? See what she knows?” Pearl wonders.

“No, because I was an epic dummy and scared Jesus by talking about Facebook…” Francesca comments darkly.

“That emotion you’re feeling? It’s called guilt,” Pearl tells Francesca. “And remember how we talked about how feeling bad for a little while is a good sign. That your humanness is developing.”

“Yeah, but Jesus is still all traumaish and it’s my fault…” Francesca insists.

“If you knew talking about Facebook would scare him, would you have said it?” Pearl checks.

“No.”

“Well, that doesn’t make you a bad sister. That makes you a good one. When you get older, you realize...that eleven is still really young.”

“So I’m a stupid baby.” Francesca fills in.

“That’s not what I was going to say,” Pearl says calmly. When Francesca doesn’t jump in again, Pearl keeps talking, holding Cleo close. “I was going to say that being eleven means you’re still learning about life and the world. If all of us were eleven, and making the same mistakes, you’d see that it doesn’t make you bad...it means you’re normal.”

“Did you make mistakes? When you were my age?” Francesca checks, doubtful.

“Oh yeah,” Pearl nods.

It’s helping so much to be able to think back to a time before trauma. For a while, all of those memories were nowhere to be found. For a while, asking Pearl to step away from her trauma for even a moment felt like floating away into a void with nothing to anchor her, because she felt so sure she had lost all of her previous memories. But she hadn’t. There had been an engulfing that lasted about ten years, before Pearl was able to start to see into the past again. To realize her memories still existed. To be able to feel safe stepping away from the trauma and focusing on something else, even during anniversary hell.

“When I was eleven, my mom asked me to make dinner while she was at work. Spaghetti.”

Francesca’s eyes widened. “Your mom let you use the stove? When she wasn’t even home?”

“It was the 90s. Things were different. God, I feel so old saying that… Anyway, I didn’t know the first thing about making spaghetti. There was a box of noodles on and a jar of sauce on the counter. I knew there needed to be water added somehow, but I added it to the sauce. That was the wrong thing.”

“So? I mean, didn’t somebody help you start over?” Francesca asks.

“There was nobody. I was an only child. Levi wasn’t born until I was 20. And I didn’t have my dad there...so I was stuck calling my 6th grade best friend who suggested all these things that did nothing but make it worse,” Pearl grimaced.

“So, I bet your mom was really mad, huh?” Francesca guesses.

“She was. She mostly wouldn’t talk to me. She just made sure we ate all the leftovers. We didn’t have a lot of money. So me ruining the spaghetti was a big deal.”

“So you had to eat it, even though it was gross?” Francesca asks, horrified.

“Yeah…” Pearl nods.

“Jesus isn’t that mad at me,” she observes. “And you guys aren’t giving me the silent treatment.”

“No, we’re not. We understand that people make mistakes,” Pearl reassures.

“I guess that’s kinda lucky then…” Francesca concedes. “I just...always think everything is my fault. That I’m the reason.”

“The reason?” Pearl asks.

“Bad stuff happens. Like maybe if I stayed home, Jesus would be okay right now,” Francesca murmurs.

“But if you didn’t come, Dominique wouldn’t have had anybody here she trusted at Feelings Time, to help her. If you’re going to take credit for the bad things happening, you need to start taking credit for all the ways you help, too. It’s only fair.”

“Eleven year olds shouldn’t have to make a whole dinner on the stove without backup…” Francesca points out. “That’s not fair.”

“It’s not fair for you to blame yourself either, for making an honest mistake,” Pearl says gently.

“You remind me of a teacher.” Francesca tells Pearl. “Like, you’re kinda strict about stuff. But you’re kind. And you care about kids. Even ones like me.”

“Ones like you are the best ones,” Pearl insists, smiling.

“Can I call you Mrs. West?” Francesca squints. A mischievous glint in her eyes.

“Not married.” Pearl shakes her head.

“Ms. West?” Francesca tries, affecting a fancy voice and giggling.

“Pearl is fine,” she manages, because now, somehow, she is laughing, too.

“I felt like this…” Mariana ventures softly after they’ve sat in silence on the couch forever.

“Like what?” Jesus questions.

“Like you. Like now. Well, maybe not just like this...but kinda?” Mariana squints.

“You felt like I feel now?” Jesus asks and Mariana breathes a little easier. She’s gotten so used to Mom commenting with a laugh that she’s always just to the left of the point. It feels different - good - to have Jesus with her.

She nods.

“When?” he asks.

“When you were gone…” she confesses. “I felt like all the me left with you...and what was left was just...I don’t know…but I had no idea how to function. And...I was scared all the time…”

“Of being kidnapped?” Jesus asks, and Mariana knows he’s thinking about Francesca, who had been terrified to turn nine a couple years back, because she thought it meant she’d get kidnapped, like Jesus.

“No. Just of being without you…” Mariana fills in.

“Well, being without each other is scary,” Jesus says.

“I felt frozen. Like I didn’t know what to do. I just did what people told me. Until I realized the feeling wasn’t stopping…”

Jesus listens.

“Then I just got angry and sad about everything… Kinda like now…” Mariana admits.

“Why now?” Jesus asks. “Are you mad...at me? Did I do something?”

“No, I mean...the accident. I’m not the same.” Mariana admits. “I know trauma changes people...but it feels like...I changed.... And no one gets that… It’s like...I say it and they’re like, ‘No, you’re still you.’ But that feels, whatever…” Mariana waves the feeling away.

“Maybe dismissive?” Jesus guesses.

“Yeah, because...I’m telling people...you know? And them telling me I’m wrong...feels...small. It makes me feel small.”

“‘Cause maybe it doesn’t feel good to have people tell you that what you know is true...isn’t. You know yourself. It’s like...not exactly...but it reminds me of Carla going on about how I tricked everybody.”

“What did she say?” Mariana asks.

“That...I fooled everybody with the ‘poor kidnapped kid’ act or something.” Jesus admits.

“But I’m not tricking anybody…” Mariana points out.

“That’s not what I’m saying,” Jesus tries. “It’s more like...she had this idea of me. Based on pictures. Video clips. Whatever Moms released to the press, to encourage the public to look for me.”

“Okay,” Mariana nods.

“So, that was who I was at nine. Before this huge thing came and changed me. It’s like...she’s expecting me to be the same kid I was then. And I can’t be that. It’s unfair of her to expect.”

“So...you’re saying...like with me...people still don’t wanna accept you’ve changed.” Mariana deduces.

“Right. I think.” Jesus nods.

“But were those people ever Moms?” Mariana challenges.

“They said they accepted me?” Jesus admits. “I even believed them sometimes. Even felt safe sometimes. But there were these other times. Like mini explosions that just proved to me… They say they’re glad I’m back. Glad I’m alive. But like, the truth is, they want the sweet kid back. Same as the media.”

“And Moms want smart Mariana back. The math genius. Where’s she?” Mariana comments darkly.

“Probably wherever Jesus the sweet nine year old is…” Jesus ventures.

“I miss talking to you,” Mariana admits. “Like this. I know it took us a while to, like, be able to communicate again after...but I miss it. I miss our twinbrain.”

“Oh God, our twinbrain,” Jesus laughs, wincing. “You know I always kinda hold out hope that one day you’ll wanna move in with me...or Dominique. So we can be roomies. Or neighbors.”

“Yeah, but I can’t leave Frankie,” Mariana makes a sad face. “Seriously, you have no idea what it’s like at home, just the two of us. And if it was just her?” Mariana shudders. “Like...she’s struggling already.”

“I hate that,” Jesus comments cryptically. “They’re different. When they get us alone? It’s like all bets are off.”

Mariana feels her stomach drop. “They were...I mean, it was never just you…”

“It was. For those two months after I got home. It was just me and them. And, Mari, I may not talk about it, but believe that I know what it’s like…” Jesus tells her honestly.

“Sorry. I didn’t know…” Mariana apologizes, feeling newly devastated. Even when Jesus was missing, she at least had Brandon. And neither of them had massive levels of C-PTSD like Jesus, or CP like Frankie, or a TBI like Mari has now.

“I think we need Avoidance tonight,” Jesus says. “Feelings Time. Whatever. All together. It’s been a huge day. And like...I feel like it’d be good if we all can touch base. If everybody else is cool with it.”

“I’m cool like this. With you.” Mariana tells him. “But I think Avoidance is a good idea.”

“We’ll see what everybody thinks.” Jesus insists, wincing. “P.S. I love this you.”

Mariana wipes her eyes. “Yeah?”

In response, Jesus puts an arm around her. “Totally. I think this you is my favorite of all the yous.”

“Stop making me cry.” Mariana exclaims, exasperated, somehow laughing, too.

“Okay, sorry. I’m just saying.” Jesus objects lightly.

Mariana sighs, leaning into him. “You do that.”

“I will… As often as you need…” Jesus tells her.

#fic: somewhere inside

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buriednurbckyrd · 6 years

Text

Valentine’s Day Do-Over

Sequel to Lose Control Bucky wants to give you a good V-Day after learning of a dark cloud hanging over the day in your past. (Also available on AO3)

Valentine's day: one of the most polarizing days of the year. People seemed to either love it or hate it. Bucky was trying to figure out which category Y/N fell in, but she was irritatingly vague about the whole thing whenever he tried to casually broach the subject. He was still nervous about navigating their relationship, and the thought of doing anything that would disappoint or upset her was unbearable. Just when he thought he was at his wits end, he caved and went to the one person that knew Y/N better than he did.

“Ah, V-Day,” Natasha tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Here's the thing, Barnes, Y/N is at her core, a hopeless romantic.”

“So I should plan something?” He asked.

“Well...” She looked uncomfortable. “To be honest I'm torn between loyalty to my best friend, and the desire to finally see her have the Valentine's day she wants and deserves.”

“I don't follow, why would there be a question of loyalty?” Natasha sighed and sat down, motioning for Bucky to join her.

“A few years ago she was seeing someone,” she began as he took a seat. “It was going well, and he asked her out for a typical Valentine's date night. She was so excited, but he called her half an hour before he was supposed to pick her up and canceled.”

“Why?” She let out another long sigh.

“He told her that there was a work emergency. Of course she was disappointed, but she understood. I thought it would be nice to go out anyway, since she was already dressed up, so I called up the restaurant and used Tony's name to get us a table. It's amazing how fast a supposedly booked restaurant will find room when there's a billionaire involved.” Bucky began to suspect how the story was going to end and felt ill. “So we get there, dressed to nines and ready to enjoy a fancy dinner thanks to Tony's credit card and who do we see when we walk in?”

“Do I even have to guess?” Natasha shook her head sadly.

“That asshole is wrapped around another woman in a very un-work related way. If the whole thing hadn't been so infuriating I might have laughed at the cliché of it all.”

“Bastard.” Bucky growled and clenched his fist so hard his knuckles popped.

“I could have twisted his arrogant little head right off his neck, but Y/N just gives the hostess that charming smile of hers and before I know it she's pulling me back outside like nothing happened.” Natasha picked up a throw pillow and punched it. “The worst part of the whole thing is that she was sure she deserved it. Of course she'd never say that.”

“No, she wouldn't...” Bucky said quietly, almost to himself. It was something he knew all too well about her. Even before their relationship had turned romantic he would find himself fuming when she let people get away with treating her badly. And if anyone confronted her about it she would just shrug as if it was just the way things were. “What did she do?”

“Nothing. We came back here and she went to bed. A few days later she leaves for a few hours and when she comes back she raids Tony's liquor stash and gets spectacularly drunk without any explanation. Steve and I had to help her to her room and she finally cracked.” She paused and looked at him seriously. “I'm still not sure I should be telling you all this.”

“I'm not sure I want to hear it, but maybe I need to so I can understand her better.” Natasha closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

“While we were putting her in bed she started crying...”

...

“I'm sorry.” Y/N sobbed. “I'm sorry I'm such a mess.” Steve tugged her shoes off of her feet and smiled gently at her.

“It's okay, sweetheart, everyone has bad days. You don't need to apologize.”

“I can take it from here, Cap,” Natasha told him. “Thanks for the help.”

“No problem,” he looked over at the crying woman with worry. “I've never seen her break down like this before.” He whispered.

“Neither have I, she doesn't really drink. And I can't remember the last time she was this upset.”

“Maybe she'll talk to you. Call me if you need anything.” Natasha thanked him again and shut the door behind him. She walked over to her sniffling friend and helped her out of her clothes and into some pajamas.

“Alright hon,” she said, handing Y/N a bottle of water. “Drink some of that and tell me what happened. Where did you disappear to?”

“I went to see him.” Y/N said miserably. “I just wanted to know why.” Natasha swallowed down her anger, knowing it would only upset her friend more. “She answered the door. Laughed at me. Told me he was done playing with the pitiful fat girl...”

…

Natasha's voice trailed off. Bucky felt an ache in his chest, too many emotions swirling inside for him to process. “She spent the rest of the night sick and miserable, but after sleeping off one hell of a hangover she never brought it up again. If I tried to talk to her about it, she'd change the subject.”

“I know you didn't just let him get away with it, even if Y/N wouldn't do anything.” She smirked.

“Six months later he married that woman. Huge, tacky society nonsense, with a very expensive and lavish honeymoon planned. It was such a shame that he showed up to the airport only to find he's on the no fly list and the whole thing had to be canceled. I hear his new bride really let him have it and they had to be escorted out of the airport by security.” Natasha shrugged. “I never claimed to be nice. Y/N has all the sweetness in this friendship.” Bucky laughed.

“I'd say that was a pretty light punishment for you. Still, I bet it was pretty humiliating. But what should I do? Does Y/N hate Valentine's day because of that idiot?”

“I wouldn't say she hates it, but I just think she doesn't expect anyone to make a fuss over her.” Bucky mulled the new information over in his head. Y/N's indifference made a lot more sense to him after hearing Natasha's story.

“Thanks, Natasha,” he said, getting up. “I'll figure something out.”

…

Y/N called out a greeting as she walked into Tony's workshop. He wasn't working on anything yet, so the deafening music he usually had playing was absent.

“Hey, T. I braved the crappy weather and surprisingly packed cafe so I picked up your favorite.” She placed a large to go cup next to him.

“Don't know what I'd do without you, sweetheart.” Tony took a long sip of hot coffee. “Oh yeah, that's the stuff that makes life worth living.” He raised an eyebrow when she took a seat at his table and pulled her laptop out of her bag. Y/N looked up as she opened it.

“What? I thought I'd enjoy my coffee and check my email. I told you the cafe was packed.”

“Not that I don't enjoy your company, but why here? Why not just go to your office?”

“Because then it's like I'm working. If I'm in here, then it doesn't feel like I've started my day before I'm ready to.” She gulped down some of her drink and clicked away at her keyboard.

“So you haven't been to your office at all yet?” Y/N paused at her typing.

“No? Are you trying to get rid of me, Tony?” He scratched the back of his head.

“No.”

“Liar. If you don't want me here, just say so.” Y/N snapped her computer shut and tucked it under her arm. Tony darted in front of her and held his hands up.

“Hey, I don't not want you in here. Really.”

“Okay… Well I'm already half way into my storm out, if I don't finish it it'll be so lame.” Tony laughed and kissed her forehead.

“As someone that appreciates a good storm out, I won't stand in your way. Thank you for the coffee.”

“You're welcome. Now please slam the door behind me.” He laughed and let the door shut hard in her wake before pulling his phone out of his pocket. She's on her way to her office, he typed out and hit 'send'.

Y/N switched her coffee into her other hand, wishing she had just put her computer back into her bag like a normal person. She tightened her arm against it to keep it from slipping out of her hold and punched in the security code to unlock her office and lab space. As she walked inside she flipped the light switch with her elbow and set her things down on a desk with relief. As she propped her door open she spotted something brightly colored out of the corner of her eye and gasped when she turned to look. A bouquet of red, white, and pink carnations sat on her main lab table in a simple glass vase. With a smile she buried her nose into the petals and inhaled the light, sweet scent. She plucked the card off the plastic stick.

I know you like these more than roses. I got you flowers because I like you more than anyone else, but I think you already knew that. I love you, Doll. -Bucky

“Oh, Bucky...” she sighed happily.

“Happy Valentine's day.” Y/N whirled around in surprise. Bucky stood in the doorway, looking a little awkward, but he was grinning.

“These are beautiful, thank you.” She threw herself into his arms, giggling when his hands slid down to her butt. “You sir, are incorrigible.”

“I can't help myself. You're my best girl, and you have the best ass.” He leaned down and kissed her.

“Mmm, I don't know what's got you all frisky today, but I like it.”

“I was hoping you wouldn't mind ditching work for the day.” Y/N draped her arms around his neck.

“I could be persuaded. What would I be doing instead?” Bucky pulled a pink foil wrapped chocolate heart out of his pocket.

“Being my valentine?” Y/N felt her heart melt inside her chest and settle into her stomach.

“As long as you'll be mine right back.” she replied.

…

Bucky had a quiet day planned. He called dibs on the theater room and had a stack of Y/N's favorite movies waiting for them to watch, thanks to Natasha's help. He hadn't seen most of the films, and it was one of their favorite things to do together.

“A movie day?” Y/N looked around at the set up.

“I thought it would be fun.” he said a little nervously. Maybe it wasn't enough and she expected more.

“I love it, Bucky. It's perfect.” She hugged him. “Can I go change into something comfy, though?” Bucky cleared his throat and pulled away.

“Actually, I um, got something for you.” He handed her a clumsily wrapped package.

“What's this?” She carefully tore the paper open. “Oh! You thought of everything!” It was a pair of fleece pajama pants covered in a heart pattern.

“You like them, they aren't too cheesy?” Y/N shimmied out of her jeans and pulled them on.

“I love them, they're adorable,” she kissed his cheek. “Just like my amazing boyfriend. I have something for you too, actually.” she said a little shyly.

“You can give it to me later, right now it's about you, okay?” Y/N felt a lump catch in her throat and blinked back some tears before nodding. She couldn't trust her voice for a moment, overwhelmed by everything Bucky had already done for her.

The two of them settled in, deciding to begin with The Princess Bride, cuddling on one of the oversized sofas. Bucky found himself in his favorite spot, reclining against Y/N while she ran her fingers through his hair, it never failed to relax him. There were a few moments during their viewing that he found himself nearly nodding off, her touch soothing him to the point of being drowsy, so he finally and reluctantly shifted.

“I have more chocolate.” He said, offering more of the foil covered hearts. He unwrapped one for himself and popped it in his mouth.

“I think it's cute you went and got Valentine's stuff,” she giggled after biting into one of the candies. “I'm kind of glad you didn't get those conversation hearts, they always tasted like chalk to me.”

“I remember those from when I was a kid, I always thought they were gross too.” He put his arm around her and she nestled against his side.

…

Several hours and movies later, Bucky decided he was hungry for food that wasn't chocolate or heart shaped. They were both too comfortable to want to go out for dinner so Bucky suggested they order a pizza.

“Actually, why don't you let me cook you dinner? I picked up a couple of steaks yesterday when I went shopping. Plus I can give you your gift.” Y/N stood up and pulled him to his feet.

“You don't have to cook for me, and I can wait for my present, Doll. I wanted this day to be for you.” She wrapped her arms around his waist and looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes.

“And I've had a wonderful day. From those beautiful flowers, to a whole day watching my favorite movies, just being with you and not worrying about work… But you're my Valentine too, and I want to give you something because I love you.” Bucky smiled.

“Okay, I guess you make a fair point. But using that look on me is cheating, you know I can't resist it.”

“It's not my fault you're powerless against me. Maybe I'll start calling you The Winter Softie.” Bucky growled and kissed her hard, nipping at her lips and making her giggle. “James! If you want food you have to stop manhandling me!”

“Maybe I changed my mind and I want to skip right to dessert.” He ran his lips over her jaw and he could practically hear her resolve crumbling.

“You're playing really dirty, you know that right?”

“I can't get enough of you, Doll.” He murmured.

“The feeling is very mutual, but I really want to cook you a nice dinner. I didn't just happen to buy all the ingredients, I kind of planned on surprising you tonight.”

“Huh?” He stepped back. “I thought you weren't into the whole Valentine's day thing.” Y/N looked at him in confusion.

“If you thought I wasn't into it, why did you plan all of this?”

“So you wouldn't hate it anymore?”

“Who said I hated Valentine's day?” Crap.

“Uh… Well you kept blowing it off whenever I asked you about it, never giving me any kind of idea whether or not you wanted to do anything. So I um, asked Natasha for advice.” When she only continued to stare at him, Bucky swallowed and continued. “She told me what happened a few years ago.” Y/N sighed and sat down on the couch, resting her forehead against the palm of her hand. “Please don't be mad.”

“I'm not mad, Bucky. I should have just given you a straight answer. I'm not thrilled that Natasha told you about that, but I'm not angry.” She lifted her head up and Bucky wanted to kick himself when he saw tears in her eyes.

“But you're upset, and that's the one thing I never wanted to do.” He crouched down in front of her and cupped her hands in his. “Don't let some idiot that didn't know what he had ruin something for you.”

“You didn't upset me. I'm not even really crying because of him either. I wouldn't let him have that much power over me. Yeah, what happened was very hurtful. Yeah, I had to cry about it and feel really shitty. And maybe for a few years I wanted to hate this day because it reminded me of a time when I didn't feel great about myself. Then you came along and I started thinking that maybe it is just a silly holiday that doesn't mean a whole lot, but there's nothing wrong with celebrating it. I thought it was important to you, because you kept bringing it up.”

“I just wanted to make this your Valentine's day memory. Instead of what happened before. I just wanted you to be happy.” Bucky said quietly.

“You make me happy every day, Buck. I'm sorry if I made you think otherwise. It's hard for me, to let someone in, you know? I hardly think about that guy, but I guess I carry that baggage around with me, even if I don't realize I do.”

“You make me happy every day, too.” He told her, wiping a tear away with his thumb. Y/N smiled and kissed his lips gently.

“Can I cook you dinner now that I ruined Valentine's day?” Bucky laughed.

“You didn't ruin anything, and yes.” He took her hand and pulled her up. “Give me a hint about my present?”

“There's two parts, actually. First part is… something that you wear.”

“Give me a better hint.” She giggled.

“It's a new motorcycle jacket. I saw it and I started to fantasize how you'd look in it so...” They got on the elevator to go up to her floor. Bucky backed her into the wall, caging her between his arms.

“And part two?” He asked, his gaze on her nearly predatory.

“Something…I wear.” Bucky's fingers crept under her shirt.

“Oh, Doll, you know I want to know more.” She ran her hands up his chest and gripped his shirt.

“Something I won't be wearing for very long.” The elevator doors opened and he pulled her out, taking long strides towards her private rooms.

“We're definitely having dessert first.” Y/N laughed, blissfully happy that she'd finally had a Valentine's day worth remembering.

#bucky barnes x plus size reader #plus-sized reader #bucky x reader #fluff

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boymeetsweevil · 6 years

Text

Hell’s Kitchen

Grouping: Reader x Seokjin

Word Count: 2.2k, the closest thing to crack i’ve ever written, warning for lots of cursing and mentions of a bj but in, like, the least sexy way

Summary: Its Jin’s birthday and its a hot ass mess because you can’t keep a secret

happy jin day!! :)

At 7:00am on December 4th, Kim Seokjin is woken from his slumber by the sound of pots and pans being banged together. Oh god, he thinks, its finally happening—the aliens.

“Get that tight ass of yours out of bed. Happy birthday, Mr. Worldwide Handsome!”

He rolls to the edge of the bed, groaning and curling into fetal position to cover his ears. A particularly loud bang of the pans has him tipping over the edge and narrowly avoiding the corner of the bed frame as he face plants roughly onto the floor.

You slowly stop banging the pans and wonder if maybe you should have planned this better.

Birthdays are not your thing. That is, you’re all for letting your friends and family spoil you, if they call first so you can schedule them in. But, other people’s birthdays are not your thing.

When their birthdays roll around, the people closest to you know to expect a hefty check in the mail and a slightly breathless early morning voicemail that you recorded on your way to the office.

You are fully aware that to people who don’t know you, a phone call and a drugstore card with money shoved in it may seem impersonal and cold. You do care, though. You do. It’s just that birthdays have never appealed to you. A birthday is, in theory, a day you’re supposed to enjoy. But in reality, they’re full of people trying to scare you when you walk into your apartment late at night or drag you to clubs when you got 3 hours of sleep the night before. And they always want to give you sex toys as presents in front of your mother.

You wrinkle your nose at the bad memories resurfacing as you watch Jin try to resume his sleep on the floor of his bedroom. Jin and you were compatible in that you both liked no-fuss birthdays. All he ever wanted was a home-cooked meal that he didn’t make.

“Jin? Jinnie? Wake up, Honey, I made food for you.”

“I’m not really hungry.”

“But didn’t you say you didn’t have dinner because it got too busy at the restaurant?”

He groans at the thought of having to eat your cooking but stands up anyway. You grin manically and take him by the arm to guide him to the kitchen where you’ve set up the food. Once the fully stocked table comes into view, his eyes widen.

“You said you made this?”

“Mhmm.”

He takes a cautious seat and picks up the steaming bowl in front of him to inhale the scent.

“Oh my god. This smells better than my jjigae.”

“I just looked up a recipe online and this one was really highly recommended. Try it,” you urge him, eager to see the reaction.

He removes his personal chopsticks from their pouch by the place setting and digs in. The response is instantaneous and he whips his head around to glare at you.

“There’s no way you made this. This has to be catered.”

“Kim Seokjin, why would I lie to you? Don’t you think it would be hard for me to sneak a caterer in here? And do you not see the dishes in the sink, huh?”

Jin has the decency to look scolded and lowers his head.

“I’m sorry. It’s just really, really good. And, well...normally you burn toast.”

“Everyone makes mistakes, it’s alright. Just don’t underestimate me ever again.”

You place a firm hand on his shoulder as he eats. While you didn’t mean for it to be threatening, he gulps down his bite of food a bit harder than normal.

When he finishes his bowl, he looks more satisfied than you’ve seen him in a while. Which is saying something since you blew him last week after a 16-hour shift and he still didn’t look as peaceful.

“Are you all done? How about I run you a nice long bath and then—where are you going?” You try and fail to hide your panic.

“I’m going to take out the trash. I was gonna throw my napkins away but the bin looks too full.”

“Y-you don’t have to. Sit down. I’ll take care of it. It’s your birthday.”

“Come on,” he smiles, “You don’t have to baby me just because it’s my birthday. Plus, you hate taking out the trash and you always put the paper recycling out on container day.”

“Just sit down, damn it,” you shout. He narrows his eyes at you and then looks over to the trash again. He says your name in a low warning tone and begins to make his way over to the bin.

“Jin, stop! Just sit down. There’s nothing wrong with the trash. Why are you going over there?” You grab his elbow and pull, trying to stop him from seeing.

“I didn’t even say I was going to the trash. Why are you bringing it up, huh? What are you hiding?”

“Nothing! Just sit the fuck down, please!” You’ve resorted to sliding down his body and grabbing his leg, going boneless to create some drag.

“Jesus, why don’t you just admit there’s take out containers in the trash?”

He drags the leg carrying you with a muted grunt but continues his shuffle over to the corner of the kitchen where the trash bin stands. Good thing he never skips leg day at the gym.

“I made that jjigae, fuck you!”

“Bull. Shit.” He hisses down at you, his face red from exertion and determination.

Somehow you lose your grasp on his pants leg and he takes that moment to run over to the bin while you’re still on the ground. All you can do is give a sorrowful shout. When he finally lifts the lid of the trash, all he sees is tupperware.

“What? If you didn’t order out, where the hell did you get this?” He’s almost ready to admit defeat and beg forgiveness when he sees a sticky note attached to one of the discarded lids. He picks it up and sees familiar bubbly handwriting detailing cooking instructions on the paper. He sighs and turns to you.

“You’re really going to take credit for old lady Jung’s jjigae? Really?” His smug chuckle has your blood boiling.

“Goddamn it, Jin, I just wanted to do something nice for you. You’re always whining about how working at the restaurant ruins cooking at home for you and I wanted to feed you, but you know I can’t cook for shit. Why couldn’t you just let me have this?”

“You could have just said ‘Here, Jin, I had Mrs. Jung make this jjigae for you because I know her jjigae gives you wet dreams and I—” some movement in his peripheral vision stops him mid-sentence.

You turn to see a very shaken looking Mrs. Jung holding a cake carrier. You both fumble and bow before addressing the elephant in the room.

“Mrs. Jung, h-how long have you been standing there,” Jin asks with shame blooming like roses on his cheeks.

“I’ve been here since you dragged that poor child across the floor, dearie. I was coming to deliver the cake while you took your bath, but that didn’t happen.” She laughs and you have to force yourself not to ask if she enjoyed the show. This whole morning is going to shit, you remark sadly.

“Were you going to take credit for that cake too?” You can feel the tension headache coming on and you begin to rub your temples.

“Look, I paid her fee, so that cake might as well be mine.”

“You mean to tell me you paid her,” he turns to stare wide-eyed at Mrs. Jung, “You received payment for the jjigae and cake, Mrs. Jung?”

“Of course, dearie. You may be sweet but, with my arthritis, I can’t afford to be making things like this for free.” She levels him with a no-nonsense stare.

“I see. Well, if you don’t mind, I’ll take that cake pan off your hands, Mrs. Jung. Oh, is this that strawberry cake you brought to my parents’ anniversary? That’s my favorite.”

“I know. Or rather, I know from the order slip your little sweetheart filled out with the request.”

He turns to you inquisitively and mouths ‘an order form’ and you can only close your eyes and nod.

“Thank you for delivering so early in the morning, Mrs. Jung, I’ll be sure to wire you a big tip. I’ll see you later, ma’am.” You gently usher the old lady out of the door before leaning on it once its closed and locked.

“I’m sorry,” you sigh. “It just seemed like it would have meant more if I made it myself.”

“I would have agreed with that statement a day ago,” he admits as he pops the top off the cake carrier and sniffs the pink icing on the surface, “But knowing how much effort you put into this makes me change my mind. As long as I can eat it with you, I don’t care who makes the food.”

He walks over to you and holds the cake up to you face. You lift shining eyes up to look up at him in awe.

“Are you-are you giving me the first bite?”

“You deserve it after the morning you’ve had.”

“But, Jin, it’s your birthday.”

“It’s okay. I plan on eating 80% of this cake by myself before noon anyway.”

You take as big a bite as your mouth will allow from the body of the cake, smearing frosting all over your cheeks, nose, and chin. Even though she charged an arm and a leg for the food, it was worth the price, you muse.

The landline by the front door rings and Jin kindly reaches over to put the call on speaker since you’re chewing and your hands are now covered in frosting.

“Hewwo” you hum over a mouthful of cake.

“Hi, honey, its Mrs. Kim. I just wanted to update you about the steaks.”

“Oh, um, Mrs. Kim about that—”

“Jin’s father is putting them on the grill now. When did you say were going to lunch?”

“Well, I think we’re going at 1, and I was thinking that maybe you don’t have to—”

“I have the key you gave me and I was just going to come over and drop them off while you two were out. I left instructions for cooking them, but if you have any trouble I’m sure Mrs. Jung next door could help you out.”

Jin looks on with an amused expression and takes a giant bite from the cake you’re still holding.

“And I’m really grateful for that since you know how I am with cooking but I don’t think—” This time it’s Jin who cuts you off.

“Mom, you don’t have to worry, I’ll be there to help with the steaks. Did you make enough for you and dad to have some? You should come over.”

“Oh! Jinnie baby, I thought you would still be in the bath. Why isn’t he still in the bath?”

“He blew my cover, Mrs. Kim.”

“You blew your own cover. You couldn’t make a poker face to save your life...But I love you for it.”

“Aw, that’s so sweet, you two. Don’t worry, Jinnie, I’ll tell your father to pack up the picnic basket and we’ll see you later. Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

The call ends and you can feel his judgmental stare on the back of your head.

“Just say it. You know you want to.”

“I just can’t believe you think I wouldn’t know my dad’s steaks.”

“I wasn’t going to say they weren’t. I was just going to say I made them under his tutelage.”

“You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“I know,” you reach up and wipe some lingering pink frosting from the tip of his nose, “Are you mad?”

“No. I just have a feeling that all of this is the restaurant’s fault.”

“Yeah, let’s go with that. It’s not your fault or my fault. You should just quit your job,” you chuckle.

“If I’m being honest, though, I kind of want to. The hours are terrible and I don’t even enjoy it anymore. I’d much rather have my own business so I could work on my own terms.” You nod sagely.

“Then maybe that’s what you should look into this year. Not that you should throw all caution to the wind or anything, but it would be better for everyone if you were happier.”

“Yeah,” he snorted, “Then stuff like this wouldn’t happen.”

“And I wouldn’t have to pay Mrs. Jung’s $50 discretion fee.” Jin’s gaze softens and he puts a soothing hand on your shoulder.

“You know she scammed you, right?

“What? No, she didn’t. A discretion fee is important because your reputation could get ruined.”

“Okay, first of all, everyone knows you can’t cook. So, no reputation to uphold. Second, you’re not an adulterous CEO. Why would you really need a discretion fee?”

You’re quiet for a moment. “I guess that means the shipping and handling fee was unnecessary too, huh?”

“Oh my god,” he says, pain clear in his voice.

“What?” You blink confusedly at his back as he walks away from, hands up as a universal sign of resignation. “What?”

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turnabouttoothbrush · 6 years

Text

Reckoning, Chapter Eleven

Today’s sporkers: Fallen, Aziz, and Cade again.

Cade: Hey! No fair!

(Excuse me.)

Fallen: So you were in the last Reckoning sporking. Aziz and I were in the last sporking in general.

Cade: Yeah, yeah...

Aziz: ...why does it feel like it’s been forever since we last updated?

Fallen: Because it has. ...well, to be fair, we’ve been really busy!

Aziz: We really should update our askblog sometime this week...

Fallen: I think at this point our followers are used to there only being one update every six months!

Cade: That’s not a good thing.

Rating: M

Cade: Fuck me.

Aziz: No.

"What? Tell me what?" Axel asked, reaching out and grasping my chin, lifting it lightly until I looked at him.

"I… I don't know exactly," I said, calming a little when I looked at his face, "but whenever I'm not around you, I think about you all the time… when you're close by, I feel happy, when Luxord hurt you… I couldn't stand it, I tried to be quiet so you wouldn't get hurt, but…" I said breaking down. I had to pause and look away for a moment before I could get my composition back. "When I thought you'd died… I… " I said, looking at him again, shaking as fresh tears started streaming as I looked into his widened eyes.

"Roxas…" He whispered, gripping my shoulder, bringing me closer to him, extremely slowly so I could get away if I wanted to. "Roxas," Axel whispered again when his lips were nearly touching mine. I still didn't pull away. Then, he slipped his hand to the back of my neck and pulled me toward him until my lips met his. I shivered at the initial contact before allowing him to kiss me. It calmed me a lot.

"Is that love?" I asked, pulling back a little when he paused.

Axel smiled up at me. "That, or something like it."

Fallen: I am now realizing that, last chapter, you missed the chance to post

youtube

Cade: The line here is “Is that love?” not “What is love?”

Aziz: Close enough.

Cade: You’re right, and anyway it’s a good song.

Fallen: Shame on you and Silverpelt and Hawksky!

Aziz: It’s always shame on those two anyway...

It took about a week of being in the hospital, before Axel had nearly fully recuperated.

Cade: Hope he has good insurance.

Fallen: He’s blackmailing the hospital staff, remember? They’ll probably just write him off.

Aziz: Or else he’ll just toss the bill in the trash when it gets sent three months later, the hospital has no real way to collect and I don’t think a gang leader’s gonna care about wrecking his credit score. Anyway, wasn’t he just shot? Generally they don’t keep you in the hospital that long.

Fallen: To be fair, it wasn’t specified what kind of damage it did or if there were any complications. If it were just soft tissue damage only, no vascular injuries, bone not hit, no complications etc. he should have been discharged days ago but staying a whole week over a gunshot wound is totally plausible.

Aziz: Hang on, I found a study.

The average length of hospital stay in days varied according to the type of injury sustained by patients. Forty-three out of 97 (44.3%) patients with soft tissue injuries only were discharged on the day of admission, most of which underwent non-operative treatment. The average length of hospital stay for soft tissue injuries without vascular damage was 1.2 days (range 0–10). Patients who sustained bony injuries along with soft tissue injuries average length of hospital stay was 7.1 days (range 0–88). The average length of stay for patients who sustained vascular injuries along with other soft tissue injuries was 11.7 days (range 0–24). Those injuries that included a combination of vascular, bony and soft tissue injuries stayed for an average 17.0 days (range 0–35, 0 = died same day of admission). Patients who sustained multiple organ injuries had hospital stays at an average of 13.5 days (range 2–33).

Fallen: So I guess, most likely, Axel had soft tissue and bone damage, but no vascular injuries...

Cade: Girls, please don’t kid yourselves about the author actually thinking this through. We all know they didn’t. Anyway, let’s get back to the fic.

During his hospital stay, I had stayed close to him the entire time much like he had done for me when I'd been in the hospital. I even stayed when Demyx and Zexion visited, declining leaving with them afterwards. Once they'd left, I told Axel everything that had happened to me, from the kidnapping to discovering my mother. I didn't bother recounting the rape. Axel already knew every detail.

Aziz: And Roxas is very casual about it.

"Oh, Roxas," Axel said sadly, gripping my hand once I'd finished. "I can't believe that your dad made you look at your mom like that. I can't even imagine… I'm so sorry. God you've been through so much…"

I glowered at him. I wouldn't stand for him pitying me. "Didn't I tell you last time we were in a hospital not to pity me?" I asked.

"I'm sorry, Rox." Axel said apologetically.

Fallen: Uh, there’s a big difference between pity and being sympathetic and trying to empathize when your boyfriend has something traumatic happen to him. You don’t need to dismiss that concern out of hand?

Cade: Also, Roxas throwing a fit about being pitied makes noooo sense considering how much time he spends flaunting his twagic backstory.

I looked at Axel studiously for a moment. He looked like he meant it, so I forgave him.

"Roxas," Axel said gently, gripping my hand after I'd gone silent for a few minutes. I gave him my full attention when he squeezed my hand. "Can I give your mom a proper funeral? Would that be okay with you?" he asked. I felt the familiar sting of oncoming tears.

"Why would you want to do that?" I asked.

Aziz: Because not everyone’s a heartless sociopath like you are?

Fallen: I think at this point Axel has more respect for the dead than the living.

I still hadn't even given him a proper answer about giving him a chance. I mean… sure I'd admitted feelings for him, but that still wasn't an official answer.

"Because, Roxas," he said, grimacing slightly as he sat up to get closer to me, "she deserves it," he said wiping away the tears that had formed at the corners of my eyes.

Cade: *as Axel* Gotta pay respects to the pussy that popped out my favorite bitch so far.

"And she meant a lot to you, didn't she?" he asked, smiling when I nodded.

"Okay," I said.

Aziz: *as Axel* So, you good with cremation?

Fallen: *as Roxas* Why, you got coupons or something?

Aziz: *as Axel* Or something.

Almost two weeks later, once all of the preparations had been made and he had been released from the hospital,

Cade: You just said that after a week Axel was “nearly fully recuperated”. How did he stay there for a full week after that?

Fallen: Freaking malingerers! A drain on resources!!

Axel held a funeral for my mother. I'd managed to find a photo of her to put on the casket in a dusty frame when we'd gone back to my house to get her body. I never did hear what happened to my father's corpse. Perhaps it was just buried somewhere, since there was no family to claim it. I really didn't care.

Aziz: lol, of course you didn’t.

"Axel," I whispered, gripping his hand at the funeral. They were just beginning to lower the casket into the ground next to a lovely gravestone Axel had helped me pick out.

"Hmm?" he asked.

"Thank you," I said, throwing the rose that I'd been holding in my other hand onto my mother's casket just before it was swallowed up into the ground and hidden from view. Axel just nodded.

Cade: *as Axel* So, now that this part of your tragic backstory has been resolved... I don’t have to hear about it anymore, right?

Aziz: If I remember correctly, Roxas’ mom literally doesn’t come up again after this.

Cade: Of course she doesn’t.

We stood there until we were the last ones at the gravesite. Demyx, Zexion, and Xaldin had headed home already as well as everyone else. Axel squeezed my hand lightly before slipping his hand away and putting his arm around my shoulders, drawing me closer. "Ready to go home, Rox?" he asked. It was mid November and the winter chill that came with it was starting to creep in. Today was especially chilly. I shivered slightly before allowing him to lead me to the car, still looking back. "We can come back as often as you'd like," Axel said reassuringly.

"I'd like that," I said, smiling up at him as he opened the car door for me before going around to the driver's side.

"Axel," I said as he started the car, making him look at me. "Could we just… drive around for a little while?" I asked.

"Sure," he said, putting the car into gear.

Fallen: That way he can monitor his territory and flex on rival gangs.

Aziz: Maybe do a few drive-bys.

Fallen: Life on the streets: A romantic setting

Axel drove around for about an hour, before taking off, going out of town, obviously having a destination in mind. He stopped at a place called 'crystal fissure'. Axel said that it was a natural wonder and it was located in a town called Radiant Garden. I looked at it, amazed, as we got out of the car. It was absolutely beautiful.

Fallen: I’m gonna give the author the benefit of the doubt for not describing this at all and assume it’s an in-game location and we’re supposed to know what it looks like already!

Aziz: Actually, it is.

Cade: Isn’t this the same author who felt the need to tell us what Axel looks like earlier?

"Do you like it?" Axel asked. We'd arrived just before sunset, so it was reflecting the different hues that the sun was giving off.

"It's beautiful," I said, awestruck.

"So are you," Axel said, grasping my hand. I stared up at him and he gazed straight into my eyes. That was definitely bold of him.

Aziz: Hasn’t he been doing this shit all fic?

"No I'm not," I said, softening my gaze a little, searching his face in an attempt to know what he was thinking. He smirked down at me.

"I think you are," he said. I felt my cheeks heat up at those words. I turned to leave so he wouldn't see, but he gripped my hand more tightly, pulling me close and turning me around.

"Axel…" I whispered, staring at him wide-eyed and shivering a little from the cold. He smiled briefly before looking away. He probably thought he was scaring me.

"Look Roxas," he said, indicating the fissure, "its magenta now." I didn't tear my eyes away from his face.

Cade: Axel’s prettier than some stupid ol’ crystals any day.

Aziz: I wish I could argue with that.

Fallen: Why is he so pretty?!

"Axel," I said a little louder, making him look at me again. He looked like he was about ready to speak, but I beat him to it. "Do want an answer to your question now?" I asked, looking up into his surprised face.

"Ready to give me an official answer?" he asked, sounding as surprised as he looked and blinking.

I smirked up at him. "Yeah," I said, "something along those lines." Axel continued to look at me as anticipation worked its way across his face. "I'd love to be your boyfriend," I said, "if you don't mind me not being able to get over my past yet and if you can accept the fact that I can't handle much physical action."

Fallen: Not that it’s a good idea to jump right into ‘physical action’ anyway... *cough*

Cade: ...isn’t this chapter rated M?

I literally saw Axel's face transform, from anxious to extremely excited in a matter of seconds, making him look a lot like a child in a candy store, as his face lit up. "Of course not, silly," he said gleefully, bending down and kissing my forehead, making my flush darken a little. I couldn't believe that he was so happy just because I'd said yes and even had conditions attached. "I can be patient," he said, brushing his nose against mine.

Aziz: *as Axel* But I do expect sex eventually, trauma be damned, you got that?

"I'll even listen if you ever want to talk about the past."

"I'd like that," I said, turning toward the fissure again. We watched it until the sun had set then made our way back to the car as it got dark.

Cade: *insert low-effort joke about stumbling over something and falling off a cliff here*

By the time we got home, the last traces of twilight had completely vanished and the stars had already come out. Axel and I went inside his darkened home. He pressed a finger to his lips, looking back at me when he turned on a light, before locking the door. I peered around him and saw Demyx snuggled up on

top of Zexion on the couch.

Aziz: Don’t they have, like, their own house or something? Why are they always at Axel’s?

Fallen: I honestly don’t remember anymore.

Cade: We really need to update more consistently...

Both were asleep despite the TV being on. I smiled at them as we passed by and Axel shut off the TV. He turned back and grasped my hand, smiling as he led me into his bedroom.

"Do you want to stay in my room or would you like a room of your own?" Axel asked, taking off his shoes.

Fallen: And I thought lesbians move in on the third date jokes were stupid.

Aziz: Lesbians move in on the third date. Gays move in on the first.

I took off my shoes as well as my jacket before answering.

"Staying in yours is fine," I said, taking off my gloves, "if you don't mind," knowing full well that he wouldn't. "Axel, will you tell me about yourself?" I asked, sitting on his bed.

"Sure, Roxas, but first, I need a shower," he said. I nodded just before he vanished.

Aziz: Forever, hopefully.

As soon as he was gone, I searched through his dresser. I found a clean shirt and underwear, not bothering to look for anything else; I'm sure the rest of his clothes would've been way too big on me, since he was so tall. I slipped away and went out, past the sleeping lovers, going to shower myself as well. I was sure I needed it.

I wanted to get done before him though, so I didn't take more than five minutes then got dressed in the clean clothes, gathering up the dirty ones, and heading back. I barely beat him, just sitting on the bed again before he came in, in only underwear.

"I see you raided my dresser," he said, smiling at me before sitting next to me.

"Yeah, I hope you don't mind," I said.

Cade: Pretty sure none of it fits.

Fallen: Yeah, Roxas has a pretty normal build while Axel is built like an anorexic giraffe.

Aziz: Roxas bends over and the underwear rips because it’s too tight on his hips. “Oh no~” he trills, putting a finger on his lower lip and glancing back at Axel. “My entire ass is on display~”

Cade: Can we get to the M-rated part already? At least bad sex is usually entertaining.

"Not at all," he said shaking his head. I smiled at him before letting my eyes wander down to his chest. For someone who was only twenty-three,

Cade: How old is Roxas again, sixteen?

Fallen: At this point I literally just remember child bride jokes.

he sure had a lot of scars. Guess that that was part of gang life. I winced. Two of them had been my fault. "What's wrong, Rox?" Axel asked. He'd seen me start to look a little upset.

"Did it hurt?" I asked, running my thumb across his two newest scars. Axel laughed lightly.

"Of course," he said, "But saving you made it worthwhile," He said.

"Does it still hurt?" I asked, looking into his face.

Aziz: For him? No. For us?

Fallen: Maybe.

He shook his head no, but looked a little pained as if he'd just remembered something. "What's wrong?" I asked.

"Just thinking," he said. I smiled, but felt a little bitter.

"Just thinking…" I said, "about Luxord?"

Fallen: *as Axel* About that ass I won’t get until you get over your PTSD shit or whatever.

He didn't answer me and I knew I was right. "Did he injure your heart or your mind?" I asked, sliding my fingers along his chest. I was surprised when he shivered as I touched him. When he still didn't answer, I pushed him down gently.

"What are you doing Roxas?" He asked, clearly surprised as I kissed first his chest then his forehead, both deliberately slowly and lovingly.

"Whenever my dad would get angry and hit me when I was little, before my mother passed, she'd kiss me where I was hurt like that and I'd feel better," I said, running my fingers along the tattoos on his cheeks. "Was I wrong?" I asked, widening my eyes a little.

Axel smiled at me warmly. "No," he said, "I feel much better."

Aziz: Well, that’s corny.

Fallen: And scene.

Cade: ...wait, seriously? Where’s the porn??

Fallen: Um, in the next chapter maybe?

Cade: Why was this this chapter rated M, then???

Aziz: *clicks through* They all say that.

Cade: Uh. How did we just notice on chapter eleven, then?

Aziz: Because they’re in the author’s notes and we always ignore those.

Cade: Ah... well... that’s stupid. What’s the point in pointing out the M-rating every chapter?

Fallen: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

To be continued...

#mst #kh #cade #fallen #aziz

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