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#in one of my very first fics i had beau ask her if she had died before
dear-bunnyboo · 10 months
Note
hey!! I absolutely love your fics 💕 can I please request for you to write a crossover fic. Like, it begins with y/n and her relationship with either Trevor or Jack and he cheats with y/n and their breakup is very public cause y/n is famous and then it skips months later and she is spotted joe burrow and rumors go around that they are dating!!! I would love for this idea to turn into a one shot or better yet a SERIES!!
been loving the requests i am getting lately and this might top everything… love a good crossover between two worlds!!!
important note: my face claim will be madison beer but you can imagine whoever you desire. also the songs mentioned are not all technically all madison’s i will be incorporating other songs from other artists.
all the pictures seen below are not mine, however they were edited by yours truly. credits to the owners.
short fic! this will be a prologue before everything starts and no Joe in this one— not yet anyway. i want to build the story first before they finally meet ;)
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐍𝐄: 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 || 𝐉𝐎𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐖
𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Joe Burrow x Singer!Reader / Brief Ex!Jack Hughes x Singer!Reader
𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: A three year long relationship between your long term boyfriend, hockey star Jack Hughes meets its very public end.
𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: angst, cursing, cheating, emotional breakdown, cheater!Jack Hughes, media, paparazzi, haters, gossip, rumors
𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 || 𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 || 𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐜. 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 || 𝐍𝐇𝐋 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
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─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
Numb
You felt numb.
Yet why do you feel— Pain?
then— Sadness,
Betrayal,
and, Anger.
Heartbreak was strange.
A strange feeling that makes you feel so much.
Your heart was shattered to pieces, with no idea on how to piece it back together— it was broken.
Yet, you felt every single thing.
Every emotion. Every frustration. Every regret.
You sat on your kitchen floor with your phone clutched in your hands. Your tears slowly yet surely dropped on the lit screen as you remain motionless.
Today was an extremely busy day for you.
You spent almost the entire day in the studio preparing for your upcoming album.
You loved your job.
You loved it so much, you wouldn’t let anything distract you when you are in the middle of either recording, producing or writing lyrics— which is why you had your phone off.
Your phone remained off till you gotten home and opening it back up was the worst thing you could have ever done.
The first thing you noticed was the flood of notifications you have received— social media notifications from Twitter to Instagram. Then there was the messages from your friends, family, and your team— missed calls left and right.
Before you could even try and process what was going on, your manager sent you the same link everyone has been sending you for God knows how long.
Your fingers acted on their own accord and before you knew it, the video played.
It was Jack. Jack Hughes was your boyfriend of three years— you met Jack at one of his hockey games where he managed to ask for your number right after.
The rest was history.
And it seems like it would remain a history.
Your couldn’t pry your eyes off your phone screen. The video showed Jack with a blonde woman— this would normally not bother you. You trusted Jack.
You really shouldn’t have.
Before you could blink the pair were making out.
Your heartbeat was beating just as fast as your fingers were— moving to click another link.
It was another video where the woman was seen climbing onto his car covering her face because of the paparazzi that was surrounding them.
You were so focused on your phone that you didn’t even realize that you have slid down the kitchen wall landing yourself in the ground.
Articles after articles are being sent to you.
‘Y/N Y/L/N and Jack Hughes in Splitsville’
‘Was Y/N Y/L/N cheated on by beau Jack Hughes?’
‘Is it the end for Jack Hughes and Y/N Y/L/N after three years?’
He cheated.
Paparazzi saw him cheating.
He was kissing another woman.
You didn’t know what to do.
So you did the only thing you knew was right to do.
Opening your phone back up, you sent every video link and article link to Jack and after making sure he has seen it you blocked and deleted his number.
He cheated on you.
Yet it hurt to even delete his number.
He cheated on you.
Yet looking at the messages of his brothers and close friends to you pained you.
“Y/N, i have no idea why Jack would do that. Are you ok? Text me back please.” From Quinn.
“Y/N? I’m so sorry. Idk what has gotten into him. Please reply.” From Luke.
“I’ll fucking kill him. Y/N? Please answer my calls!” From Trevor.
You looked at the messages, numb— numb yet in pain.
You weren’t only mourning your three year relationship that Jack just ruined but you also grieved the friendships you knew would never be the same again.
Quinn and Luke were Jack’s brothers first and foremost. They might’ve not known or not agree and side with him but they’ll be forever be associated with him— Trevor was his best friend, almost his brother.
It would never be the same again.
And you hate Jack for that.
You hate that you love him enough to hate him.
You hate that he made you feel so much in so little time— so much that you felt your heart explode into pieces, it couldn’t take it.
You hate that you know it will take you years to recover from this.
You hate that he had to embarrass you in front of the whole world.
You hate him cause he’s making you doubt your self worth.
You hate him for being selfish.
He is selfish.
Selfish.
You hate him for being reckless with your heart that you willingly entrusted to him.
He is reckless.
Reckless.
Wiping your tears of your face you silently walked to your room— grabbing your pen and notebook.
Selfishly Reckless
Too Damn Selfish
Reckless with my Heart
Selfish.
Reckless.
・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ・
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─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭:
ೃ⁀➷ comment or message me to be added to the tag list :)
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ SUBMIT A REQUESTS AND ASK ME ANYTHING!
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-𝐛𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲ఌ
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the-kaedageist · 5 months
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congrats on hitting your follower milestone!! for a CR short fic prompt, how about shadowgast where essek is learning to coexist with caleb's cats? :)
I'm emerging from the abyss to answer this prompt 11 months later, but I hope you enjoy! I also believe someone else had Caleb having a cat named Gretchen before me and my brain borrowed it from someone; apologies, it just fit so well.
“Ah,” says Caleb when Essek arrives for their weekly meeting. “Since you were here last, I have acquired another housemate.”
This feels like a somewhat alarming statement. Thankfully, the suspense is not held for long - a moment later, a calico cat makes her way daintily into the room with them, stares up at Essek, and hisses.
“Gretchen,” Caleb scolds, along with a long string of Zemnian that Essek’s rudimentary skills can’t hope to follow. He’s just about mastered ‘please’, ‘thank you’, and some of the major foods; nowhere near native-speaker-speaking-to-his-cat level.
Essek tries not to be offended at being hissed at, even as he can feel his own ears flicking back behind his head in annoyance. “I have done nothing to you,” he says to the cat.
“She is scared,” says Caleb, reaching down to scritch the calico’s ears. She glares at Essek but submits happily to the pets. “She will get used to you.”
The cat eyes him like a particularly unpleasant thing that has been dropped on the floor. Well, Essek thinks, he has certainly had nemeses before. What is one more?
The situation does not improve from there. Every week, Essek Teleports to Caleb’s house, and every week, Gretchen acts as though Essek has offended her to the very depths of her being. (It probably doesn’t help that the third time this happened, Essek hissed back.)
By the end of the first month, Essek despairs that he will ever have a good relationship with Caleb’s animal companion.
At night, when he’s downstairs studying and Caleb is asleep, Essek sneaks back upstairs to find Gretchen curled up at Caleb’s side, purring happily. When Caleb is reading on the couch and Essek is attempting to cook in the kitchen, he peeks in to find Gretchen stubbornly attempting to seat herself in the middle of Caleb’s book, to Caleb’s laughter.
It seems that although they loathe one another, he and Gretchen share a love of the same man. Surely there is common ground they can find.
One night, Yasha and Beau come over for dinner. Gretchen is ambivalent about Beau (although no hissing is involved), but she waltzes right up to Yasha and starts headbutting her ankle.
“Oooh, hello, little beauty,” Yasha says, reaching down to scratch her cheek. Gretchen stares up at her adoringly. Essek also stares at her, aghast and betrayed.
“What is this?” he asks like a spurned lover.
“What is what?” Beau asked. She glanced over at Yasha. “Oh, the cat? She loves Yasha. For obvious reasons, of course.”
Essek rolls his eyes. “I thought she did not like strangers.”
Beau blinks. Her eyes narrow and her mouth stretches into a smirk. “Does the cat not like you, Essek?”
“No,” Essek denies quickly. “I don’t know what you are talking about.” He quickly makes an exit to the kitchen, making excuses about checking the soup, before he can be pestered further.
That is when he begins to wonder what he’s doing wrong.
First, he tries dressing more comfortably for his trips to Caleb’s. Perhaps, Gretchen is intimidated by the points on his mantle and the finery of his robes – is that a thing cats care about? The only cats Essek has ever encountered have been moorbounders, and usually they care more about the quality of their meal.
Unfortunately, even in loose pants and a soft shirt, Gretchen still glares and hides from him on his next visit. Caleb seems to appreciate the change though, pulling Essek into his arms and cuddling with him more than normal, and Essek makes a mental note that perhaps more comfortable clothing was in order regardless of the cat’s opinion.
Next, he attempts to determine if Yasha has bribed the cat for her love. He does research and discovers that cats are known to love meat and fish. The next week, when he Teleports into Caleb’s house, he pulls out a handkerchief with some pieces of fish stashed inside and lays it out on the floor. Gretchen does her usual routine of glaring at him while growling before she slowly approaches to sniff the food.
Caleb looks amused. “You brought a present?”
Essek shrugs, feeling heat on the back of his neck. “She is part of your family.”
Gretchen eats up every morsel of fish, to Essek’s relief. However, once her meal is complete, she goes back to hissing and glowering as though no offering had ever been made.
Essek is starting to feel a bit offended. This feels personal.
One night, he cuddles up with Caleb, dejected, as Caleb strokes his hands through Essek’s hair and coils a curl around his finger. “You are quieter than usual,” says Caleb. “Is something wrong?”
Essek glances up at him through his lashes. “Gretchen does not like me.”
Caleb says, “hmm” and continues to stroke Essek’s hair. “I have thought much about this, and I think she sees you as another cat.”
This is not something Essek has ever considered. “Another cat?” he echoes, surprised.
Caleb presses a kiss to his hairline. “You have cat-like mannerisms. You are prickly and picky and beautiful. Does it surprise you at all?”
Essek thinks for a moment; perhaps it does make some sort of strange sense. “So if I am another cat, how do I win her affection?” he asks at last.
“Well,” says Caleb, “ideally I would have put you both in adjoining rooms and let you sniff each other under the door.”
Essek gives him an unamused look. “Caleb Widogast, I am not actually a cat.”
Caleb tousles his hair with a small chuckle. “Ja, of course. Then I would say…be around her. In, ah, her orbit, so to speak. Give her space, but be present and let her get used to you.”
“I have been present,” says Essek petulantly. “She does not like me.”
Caleb shakes his head. “You either approach her head-on or you give her a wide berth – understandable, but I do not think it helps.” He lays his forehead against Essek’s curls. “You are stubborn. You will find a way.”
And slowly, Essek does.
He continues to bring Gretchen fish, but retreats beyond arm’s reach so that she can eat without feeling threatened. He is careful to seat himself within her watchful gaze when she is near, so that she will know his location. He stops trying to befriend and starts letting her be, and Caleb had been right – once he gives her the space to get to know him on her own terms, Gretchen finally, finally begins to thaw.
The first day she approaches him after her fish treat and lets him tentatively reach down to scratch her ears, Essek feels as though he’d been rewarded with a monumental gift. He meets Caleb’s gaze – and Caleb smiles sappily at him, as though all he’d ever wanted for his life was Essek and a cat, in this little house, with everyone getting along.
“You see?” Essek says to Gretchen. “I am not so bad.”
She turns around to show him her butthole and trots away with her tail held high. Essek laughs. “Perhaps we still have some ways to go.”
Caleb wraps an arm around his shoulders. “It takes time,” he says sagely, and Essek can do nothing more than laugh exasperatedly and press a kiss to his cheek.
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ravenelyx · 10 months
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Arranged Heartbreak - Sebastian Sallow
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Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x Fem! Reader
Words: 15k
Warnings: angst, fluff, courting, pining, cute but also very sad, Sebastian is so in love it's ridiculous,
Summary: "He felt a sudden urge to lean in, to kiss her and show her that all this courtesy and proper behaviour meant nothing to him. He just wanted her. He just wanted to be hers." Falling in love had never been easy. Falling in love with an upper-class muggle-born? A recipe for assured heartbreak.
A/N: In a way, self-indulgent (if ykyk). English is not my first language, so I apologise for any mistake. The perfumes described are also based on real perfumes (Miss Dior, Trussardi, Tom Ford - Beau De Jour)
Masterlist
you can find the whole fic also here on A03
Act I
The first time Sebastian met her, they were in their fifth-year.
She was new: a transfer student from Italy with foreign relatives, at least from her father’s side. The circumstances weren’t quite favourable, though, as the reason for their first meeting was Sebastian being a good friend after Ominis wronged her, and trying to mend the ties between the two of them.
When Sebastian dared to ask his friend what the reason for their disagreement was, the blond only blushed in embarrassment, before uttering two simple words that made his breath hitch. “Women’s rights.”
"I'm sure I can charm my way in as always," Sebastian replied confidently after the blond expressed his own doubts. "Just tell me where you think we can find this Miss ____."
“I think I know where she spends her time when not in the Common Room,” Ominis said grimly, as he began to lead his friend through the corridors. “Thank you, Sebastian, but I must warn you… she’s very stubborn. You might not be able to convince her so easily.”
"Anything for you my friend." Sebastian smiled, completely ignoring the last statement, and followed Ominis around as the blond, he realised after a few minutes, led him towards the Library. He smiled despite himself as they entered the familiar place and started scanning for anyone whom he didn't recognise.
As they turned a corner, he stopped abruptly. At the end of the aisle stood a girl pacing back and forth with a tome in her hands, frowning slightly as she read through the pages.
Sebastian immediately noticed the typical Mediterranean features, such as the curve of her hips that appeared from time to time as her robes swung around her body with each step, her olive-toned but flawless skin, and her big, deep eyes adorned with long, thick lashes.
He felt his breath catch at the elegance with which she moved, not exactly confident per se, no — on the contrary, the way her shoulders slumped a little and her legs stayed close together with each step showed a complete lack of the usual poise purebloods usually had. She moved like a Muggle, but her steps held a commensurate regality to her family's supposed high esteem, and the way her head ducked slightly toward the book told him that she had been prepared for more in life than holding a profession in the wizarding world.
"That's Miss ____? If only you could see her… you would've fallen to your knees during the argument." Sebastian leaned in to whisper to Ominis: his tone was definitely teasing but there was some wonder in it.
Ominis nudged his arm, letting out a bashful laugh. “I can easily sense it as well.”
Sebastian looked down at him, and at the wand glowing red in his hands. It never failed to fascinate him.
“You better keep your wits about you. She nearly bit my head off and no matter how many times I tried to retort, she always seemed one step ahead.” The Gaunt boy sighed and then gave the brunet a small knowing smile. “I think she's already got you wrapped around her finger though. You can't blame me for not falling for her, I never did have that much of a thing for romance.”
"Is that so?" Sebastian teased him, stealing glances at the girl and noticing the way her bottom lip slightly disappeared under her top one every once in a while. "Well, I'll go get your forgiveness and perhaps..." He trailed off with a slight smirk, now taking a long, not-so-subtle look. "Your blessing as well?"
“I’m no priest.” Ominis let out a small laugh. “She’s really got a hold on you, hasn’t she? I can only wish you my best of luck. And if all else fails, you have my blessing to give up.”
"Oh, really? Always glad to know I can count on you.” Sebastian rolled his eyes and nudged his arm. “Watch me, then."
He fixed his collar and took a deep breath, before approaching the girl. "Hello, are you Miss ____?"
The girl looked up from her book, surprised. "That's me, how can I help you?"
She stared him up and down, her eyes piercing through him, whether willingly or not, he couldn’t tell.
“I’m Sebastian Sallow.” He greeted. “I’m a friend of Ominis, I’m sure you’ve met before. He had mentioned you as a transfer student from Italy. Beauxbatons, I suppose?”
“Ominis, you said?” She repeated, her tone laced with a hint of annoyance. She discarded his question and her eyes narrowed. "Came to mock as well, have you then?"
"Certainly not," he said, trying to maintain a friendly cadence in his voice. "I'm here on his behalf in fact. He has, well, in his own words, done you a great disservice, and I'm here to ask for your forgiveness, should you be willing to hear it.”
She quirked an eyebrow at that, and he suddenly was all too aware of his own breathing. He continued nonetheless.
"You must excuse his manners, his views can be... rather narrow-minded, as you can see. And not of his own volition." He paused for a moment, trying not to take his eyes off hers. That would not look very assertive in a situation like that. "If you want to hear me out, I mean. I can understand if you don’t think he's worth your time."
"I see he is so contrite that he had to send you to atone for his mistakes instead of fixing them on his own." She said sarcastically. "Me and Ominis Gaunt have nothing to do with each other, he had made his stances pretty clear and our conversation ended hours ago."
Her tone was full of distaste and he bit his lower lip, trying not to grimace. "That's fair," he sighed slowly. "I wouldn’t do anything differently in your position, frankly. I will not force you to do anything, Miss ____, I know how valuable a person's time is. Just know that Ominis does feel remorse, even though he may not show it at the moment. He just needs time."
"I don't believe in apologies, Mr Sallow. I believe in actions." She said sternly. "And in cowardice."
His heart gave a slight jump at the weight of her words, and he definitely should have defended his best friend's honour better, but as a breach of trust, he felt a small smile creep onto his face.
"You know, I like you, Miss ____," he admitted, surprised at himself. "You're not afraid to tell people the truth. And I agree with you: Words mean nothing if they aren't followed by actions. I can assure you that Ominis is ready to show his remorse. You need only tell me what you'd like him to do, and I'm sure he'll comply."
"Mr. Sallow, I appreciate your willingness to help your friend," she said tersely. "But the offended shouldn't be the one to tell the offender how to make amends."
Damn, Ominis wasn't lying, the boy thought to himself.
"Good point." He admitted with a small smile. "You're right, he should be the one to prove his sincerity. If he can't think of anything himself, then he's just showing he doesn't mean it."
She nodded in agreement, not letting her guard down. “Is that all, or is there something else?”
"Do you think you can forgive him if he finds a way to make reparations?” He asked, more out of curiosity than anything else. He was actually impressed with how the girl handled the whole situation, especially because he had to stifle a snarky remark to Ominis himself after the latter had told him about their conversation word for word. He had expected her to be a bit more spiteful, given she was the offended party here.
"If he demonstrates that he has truly changed his mind and shows it with his actions, not words, then yes... I'm willing to forgive him."
"You are very reasonable. Most people would not be willing to forgive so easily, if at all," he admitted, and his voice was full of genuine admiration. He glanced around, his eyes falling on her book, and the corners of his eyes wrinkled slightly.
“Well, it’s no use holding grudges when they’re repentable. It’s neither wise, nor reasonable, as you mentioned. Would that mean I’m both those things?”
"Oh, it definitely does. After all, it takes one to know one," he answered with a hint of arrogance in his voice. "You're a rare gem, you know that, Miss ____?"
She gave him a small, almost contemptuous smile. "Flattery won't make me forgive him faster, Mr Sallow, I hope you know that." She closed the book and put it back on the shelf.
"I did not expect it would," he replied with a smile of his own. "But I did not lie. You're a very sharp young woman. You know how the world works, and you're not afraid to speak your mind. That's a rare thing and it's what makes you so... unique."
“Unique, you say?” She flashed her eyebrows, amused.
"You're like a lighting bolt through the fog that lights up what's hidden in the middle. I envy that."
She raised an eyebrow slightly as his attempt to a simile. "Lightning cannot travel through the fog. It will disperse in it through the water droplets.”.
“Alright, keep your scientific knowledge above me.” He rolled his eyes, unable to ignore the heat rising to his cheeks at his failure. She shook her head slightly.
“Everyone should learn how to live in this world, and many people are afraid to speak their truth in fear of judgement from others. I don't believe we should annul ourselves to fit in with other people." Her fingers lightly touched the covers of the books resting on the shelves. He followed the motion.
"Unless..." She gave a small smile. "It can benefit us."
"You're quite the philosopher too, aren't you?" He couldn't help but grin. "A better philosopher than I am a poet, I can see. 'Know thyself', as that old Greek philosopher said. Your ancestors must've passed down such a trait, I can't imagine anyone with Italian ancestry has anything but deep thinkers within them."
“You mean Socrates?” She commented, amused. "I guess that's a trait only someone with a romantic background can have. As seen by your poetry.”
He turned his head away for a moment with a dampened smile. “We do also have some exceptional poets, though, don’t we? Even Muggle poets aren’t that bad.” 
“Ah, yes. I love me some Shakespeare," she said with a hint of irony a small smirk playing on her lips.
“I think Chaucher is pretty good, as well. He wrote some classics, too. I loved the Canterbury Tales,” he retorted, tilting his head slightly as he looked at her, awaiting. Sebastian found himself wanting to impress her. Why, he had no idea.
“I prefer the Decameron,” and there was her prompt answer as she gave him a playful grin.
His heart skipped a beat.
“I see what you’re doing there.” He smiled impishly. “Can’t blame you, though I haven't gotten around to reading it yet.”
“Then I suppose you should start at the source," the girl shrugged, tapping over the hard book covers.
He glanced at her delicate hand and the repetitive movement, enchanted, then turned back to her. “You read a lot of books, don't you?”
“Enough to keep up-to-date.”
He couldn't help but chuckle, feeling a little more seen than his comfort usually allowed him to be. "Is that where you get your sharp wit from?”
“I prefer to think of it as an innate ability, but I suppose a few more fancy words to expand my lexicon won’t hurt.”
“Fancy words, eh? What for?"
“You can accomplish much more with an adequate parlance in certain situations than with all the gold in the world," she explained toughtfully, her voice clear and proud and a little teasing. There was the philosopher again.
“Ah, I see. Is that what you’re doing now?” He couldn't help but ask, not tearing his eyes off hers. And her eyes were particularly enchanting, he noted, with various flecks of colour gleaming in the soft warm light of the Library toarches. And perhaps—
“Am I charming you, Mr Sallow?” She interrupted his thoughts and he dearly hoped no unwanted extra pigment made its way through his cheeks.
“I want to trust that my spirit is stronger than that.” He cleared his throat. “So, that’s what you meant by benefiting from other people?”
“Sometimes we need to pave our own way to reach a point, other times it's better to... steal a ride from someone?”
"Very wisely said," he replied with a little laugh. "So, how would you... steal a ride?" He continued thoughtfully. "I see no other way than to be true to oneself. If your goal is to reach a point, wouldn't it be better to forge your own path rather than take someone's? At the risk of sounding arrogant myself."
"If a path is already paved and it's the shortest way to your goal, it would be a pity not to use it." She looked up at him. "To be true to oneself doesn't mean to be hubristic, Mr Sallow."
"I admit you have a point. If one wants to get to a destination as soon and with as little effort as possible, the path of least resistance is the best, but at the same time, aren't we meant to overcome adversity and find our own path? I find that much more rewarding than simply following in someone else's footsteps."
"For example, your friend Ominis sending you to beg for his forgiveness instead of doing it himself?"
He couldn't help but chuckle softly at that. "You're quite the sharp one, Miss ____. It’s becoming rather impressive."
She raised her eyebrows in surprise and he gave her a small smile in return.
"I suppose I'm the hypocrite here, aren't I?"
"Quite," she smiled as well. "But you should go back to him, he seems quite on edge in that corner." Her face fell at the sight of the other boy. "Anything else I can help you with?"
"You really have me cornered," he said, his eyebrows raising in amusement. "I'm beginning to realise I'm not nearly as clever as I think I am — or maybe it's just that you are cleverer. In any case, you're quite the conversationalist." His eyes crinkled at her. "I have nothing more to ask right now. Except..." He took a small step forward. "Would you like to meet sometime… and talk some more?"
"Now who's the blunt one, Mr Sallow?" Despite that, she gave him a small nod. "But sure, I suppose I don't hate the idea."
"I'm glad. You seem like someone I would like to keep as a friend."
"Ah, so it's a mere question of convenience," she said teasingly. "Tell your friend Ominis that he has to work harder for my forgiveness, but I suppose you haven't made his mistakes, yet, so I can accept the idea, Mr Sallow."
He scoffed playfully at that, before saying: "You can call me Sebastian…”
“Can I now?” She flashed her eyebrows at him and shook her head. “I suppose the Wizarding World works differently. All right, Sebastian it is.”
He frowned a little, noticing she didn’t reciprocate his courtesy to use her first name. “Good. And for what it's worth, having you for a friend wouldn't just be for my convenience," he said, amused. "So?"
"I suppose I can grant you that privilege." The corner of her lips raised slightly in a teasing grin. "Now I'll leave you to your friend, it seems like you two have a lot to talk about."
He laughed softly, his eyes following her as she walked past him. "Privilege, is it? You make it sound like charity."
In that moment, he realised he liked being teased by her: it never felt mean-spirited, and he found himself hoping that encounter would only be the first of many.
"Wait!" He called after her a moment later. "One last question, if that's alright?"
She stopped, a bit surprised, and turned around. "What is it?"
"You mentioned earlier my friend Ominis should have a way of making reparations if he was serious about forgiveness. I wouldn't want to impose," he asked, "but could you at least tell me where he stands?"
She looked at him for a second, before sending him a charming smile.
"He stands on the edge of a cliff," she simply said, before turning around again and leaving the Library.
And he knew he was done for when he felt an amused smile pull at his lips as he watched her go.
Act II
The first time Sebastian truly realised his feelings for her was during their sixth year.
He sat in the dorm with Ominis, the latter immersed in yet another book about feminism: the only books he had read since the disagreement. Not that he had much choice, because as soon as Sebastian noticed the pages running short in the blond’s alabaster hand, he would go and fetch him yet another book from the same section.
“Do it for me.” The brunet always said, and Ominis had no idea what exactly that did for him.
Nor did he know if the world-weary sighs coming from his fellow Slytherin were directed to how slowly he was reading this last book, or to something else entirely.
“What’s got your wand in a knot?” He finally asked, putting his own red-glowing-and-not-in-a-knot wand down and closing the book.
“Nothing.” Said the other boy nonchalantly, as if his suspires hadn’t become gradually louder in an attempt to annoy the blond enough to make him pay attention to him.
“Is it her?”
Ah, of course he knew.
“No.”
But Ominis knew exactly what he was getting at, and frankly was done with his antics, so he decided to ignore him again.
Sebastian’s eye twitched at the silence. His hands began fidgeting the more the other boy didn’t indulge him, and, despite his efforts to stay in control, in the end he gave up.
“Fine. Yes.” He yielded, groaning loudly and letting his hands thump on the mattress for good measure. “It’s her.”
“What about it?” The Gaunt boy asked tiredly, expecting Sebastian to go on a tangent on how she had bested him at Defence Against the Dark Arts again.
But Sebastian’s mind was far too preoccupied to care about his reputation as the best duellist in school.
“I want to court her.”
Ominis stopped in his tracks, his pearly eyes widening as his friend’s words sank in.
"You... You want to court her?" he asked, his heart skipping a beat.
Of course, he knew the Sallow boy had shown some… softness around the new student. And that he seemed to think of her with higher regard than others. But never would he have imagined the words ‘Sebastian Sallow’ and ‘courting’ in the same sentence — unless he thought of him as best-man for his sister Anne. Despite the brunet’s pleasantries and quips about the new student, Ominis had always taken them as what he thought they were: jokes.
But now there he was, choking on his breath as Sebastian confessed his true intentions with the girl he apparently had been really crushing on during that last year.
Still, no matter the seemingly distressed state of his friend, he couldn’t help but tease him as good mates usually do.
"After seeing how you two interact with each other, she'd chew you up and spit you out, and then she'd curse you for not having done a better job. Still, I suppose it's the thought that counts.” He gave the brunet a small smile. “I won't dissuade you from pursuing her... just maybe think twice before you do, alright?"
"Well... thank you, it's good to know you have my back." Sebastian scoffed sarcastically. "Are you sure you're not trying to dissuade me from having her so you could woo her yourself? I thought I had your blessing.”
Ominis couldn't help but give an amused laugh at his statement. "Not even I can play that dirty, Sebastian. If that's what you want, I won't stop you; I'm just warning you not to set your heart on it if you can't handle the rejection. Not only is she beautiful, in your words, but she is clever and quick-witted, too: not an easy combination to seek the hand of."
“If my attempts at romancing her are anything like your attempts at getting her forgiveness, then I’ll surely be sporting that rejection soon.” Sebastian sighed loudly once more. “What should I do? Should I buy her flowers? Chocolate?”
“Flowers usually do the trick,” Ominis replied thoughtfully. “Perhaps you could get her something sweet as well.”
"But... But what are her favourite flowers? Or worse, what if she doesn't like flowers, or chocolate for that matter? What if she prefers white chocolate and I get her milk chocolate?" Sebastian was clearly starting to panic, and Ominis’ lungs couldn’t help but replicate those weary sighs, too.
"Does anyone really dislike flowers?" Ominis asked rhetorically. "I'm sure even if they're not her favourite, it'll show you're putting in effort.”
Sebastian nodded, listening intently and basically hanging on Ominis’ lips as if the blond was about to reveal to him the universal secret of auspicious courtship.
“As for the chocolate, I'm sure she'll forgive a little mistake: just pick the best you can afford and you'll do just fine. But," Ominis added, a smile returning to his face, "you should try to get to know her tastes a little better first, before you bring her any kind of gift. Have you not learnt anything during all this time you have been friends?"
“We don’t usually talk about flowers.” Sebastian replied indignantly.
“Right, right. You’re more keen on blasting each other to pieces in a duel. Both mental and physical.”
Sebastian smiled fondly.
“Or, to be precise, she blasts you.” Ominis added, amused.
Sebastian’s smile disappeared.
“You’re no help at all.” He turned away from him on the bed and sighed deeply again. "All right, so: tomorrow, I'll approach her after Potions, and ask her if she wants to go to Hogsmeade… Or perhaps I can partner up with her during the lesson?"
"You really are desperate to get her attention, aren't you? Well, both seem like good plans. The latter has the extra benefit of giving you more time to spend with her with no room for unwise wand usage,” Ominis laughed, “and might make more of an impression when the Hogsmeade visit comes around."
-
The next day, Sebastian managed to sit next to her and get partnered up with her to brew the Wit-Sharpening Potion.
"Use a knife to cut off two pieces of Ginger Root and add to the cauldron until the potion turns green, then add Armadillo Bile. Sebastian, could you cut the root while I get the Armadillo Bile?" She asked him, arranging the ingredients on their worktable.
"Sure thing," Sebastian replied, his heart beginning to pound a little. “Is that what you drink everyday to keep your wits about?” He joked with her as he picked up the knife.
“Oh, yes. Perhaps you should try it. The bile sure adds to the taste.”
He made a face as he added the Ginger Root. “I'd rather be daft, then.”
She laughed and moved back next to him. As she got closer, he couldn't help but notice her scent: it was flowery, intoxicating, and he realised for the first time how beautiful his friend really was.
"Is it me," he asked, his voice a little unsure, "or do you smell like... Lily-of-the-Valley? What's that perfume you're wearing?"
"Oh," she was a bit taken aback. "It's Centifolia Rose, but it does have some lily notes. I brew the perfume myself. Do you like it?"
"You... You made it yourself? That's impressive, truly," he said in awe, a wide smile breaking on his face as he blushed slightly. "It's an amazing scent. It's hard to describe: it's like a spring garden, full of blooming flowers. I like it very much."
He paused for a moment, taking a deep breath before choking on his spit as the foul smell of the potion mingled with the fragrance.
She laughed as he began to cough. “Yes, the perfect spring garden.”
“Oh, stop. I was trying to compliment you.” He nudged her arm as he cleared his throat from the fumes, before speaking again. "It must be very time-consuming, though. How did you learn to do such a thing?"
"Thank you, Sebastian, that's really kind." She said, adding the bile. "I always found wizard perfumes to be a bit too strong for my taste, while high-quality muggle perfumes are a bit too expensive, so I decided to learn by myself." The potion turned blue just like the instructions said. "I used Centifolia Rose as the main ingredient. Then I embroidered it with Lily-of-the-Valley notes, apricot, Peony, and Iris."
"It's all really feminine," he said softly, the blush still colouring his cheeks. "It really suits you. You're certainly very skilled, and I have to say: that's a very impressive knowledge of ingredients and aromas to combine. I could barely distinguish the scent of Lily-of-the-Valley, let alone the others, but I'm sure that's part of your charms as a witch, is it not?"
He sent her a small glance, quirking an eyebrow, and she shook her head mirthfully.
"And as someone who knows so much about scents, how do I smell like to you, would you say?" He continued, never tearing his eyes away from the girl.
She hesitated for a second at his request, and looked up at his excited face before giving in and leaning closer to his neck. Sebastian's heart skipped a beat, a small smile gracing his lips as his breathing hitched slightly.
"Lavender and Cedarwood..." She paused, leaning a bit closer. "And a tinge of Rosemary."
“That's... lovely." He said, his voice barely a whisper as he still felt the heat of her breath on his skin. The world seemed to still around them, and even his heartbeat fell silent to his ears at her proximity.
"It's a lovely scent indeed," she agreed. "I've never made a man's fragrance before..."
“You haven’t?” He asked, shocked. “Not even for your close family?”
She shook her head. “My father isn’t fond of perfumes himself: he prefers to only use soap.”
She then smiled, a hint of pride in her eyes. "I've made another I really like, though — almost as much as this one. I mainly used Italian tangerine and neroli. Then I combined lavender with jasmine and white dahlia, and at the base, violet and patchouli essential oil. I feel combining fruit and flowers really brings out the best of it, especially when adding essential oil to really consolidate the perfume itself. I gifted it to Poppy earlier this year.”
“You have to let me smell that." He said with a smile. “Your skills never cease to impress me. How do you even know how to combine all the ingredients perfectly?”
“It’s an art, and it took me a long time to master.” She admitted, blushing slightly at his compliments. “I guess that's why I'm good at Potions."
With a last stir, the potion turned a perfect, bright orange.
"That's incredible." Sebastian’s eyes widened, taken aback as he stared at the cauldron.
"You are an exquisite perfumer: in fact, I think you must be one of the best in the world." He broke into an elated giggle as he sang his friend’s praises. "And an excellent potioneer as well!"
"I wouldn't go that far… But perhaps I could make you a perfume, too. Not that yours is bad…” She quickly added, averting her eyes. "I could actually use those same ingredients and make something out of it, if you're alright with it."
At her mere suggestion, his heart began to race, and the sudden rush of blood left his cheeks feeling hot to the touch.
"I— that'd be wonderful," he said, struggling to find the words to express himself. "I would be honoured to have it. You're a very special person, you know that?"
She smiled. "We're friends after all, Sebastian, are we not?"
He nodded with a grateful smile, and while Professor Sharp collected their phial, she began muttering in Italian about the best ingredients for his perfume.
“Lavanda e rosmarino… e muschio, forse?”
His blush only spread as he heard her speak in her native language. It sounded like she was singing: Her voice was soft, melodic as the vowels seemed to flow with each other beautifully. Sebastian had never heard spoken Italian before: Sure, he had found it in books sometimes, even attempted to read it, but never had he had the pleasure to hear it. Until now, as he was shamelessly staring at her with his mouth agape.
"Friends," he repeated, his voice soft and his heart racing, his blush ever-so-present on his cheeks as she kept muttering under her breath, "but maybe, one day, we could be… more than that?"
But she didn't seem to hear that last part as she began to put her stuff away and smiled brightly at him. "I think I'll have it ready for next week, how does that sound?"
He snapped out of his trance as he met her eyes. "That sounds perfect. Thank you, truly”.
No amount of words could describe what he was feeling, as he watched her move in that elegant poise he noticed the first day, as he saw the small smile dancing on her lips and the excited glint in her eyes, as he noticed her hands trembling a bit when she grasped her book. All he knew was that he was falling, falling deep, falling at each word she said, at each gesture.
And he didn’t mind it at all.
"Then consider it my gift to you." She gave him a wave before exiting the classroom.
Sebastian smiled back, letting his eyes linger on her figure until she disappeared from his sight.
Then his heart jumped in excitement and he could hardly contain himself as he walked — ran — to Ominis.
"Did you see... well, hear what she said? Our conversation? That went well, right?" Sebastian said, laughing to himself in disbelief, his heart pounding in his chest as he lightly bounced on his feet like a kid with a new toy. "Do you think she really wants to make me a perfume? That is… insane. Wonderful. It’s like having her, only bottled up and carried with me forever."
“Hold on now,” Ominis shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips, “You really do have more than a crush, don’t you?”
“Well, obviously. I had already told you about my intentions.” Sebastian rolled his eyes, but no matter what, he couldn’t shake the smile off his lips, not the elation coursing through his veins.
"I can positively say that I've never seen you like this." Ominis said, tilting his head. "But you must have made a really good impression to receive a gift like that."
"Shall I take that as a hint I can court her? Maybe ask her to Hogsmeade next week?"
"That's not a hint, that's an order," the blond teased him, and Sebastian began to bounce on his feet again, unable to stay still.
"Should I ask if I can call her by her first name? I mean, she calls me 'Sebastian' after all, and it's been almost a year since we've become friends… don't you think it's time?"
"I don't know about asking for a first name basis: after all, different cultures require different approaches." Ominis said thoughtfully. "Do you know what flower you'll ask her out with? I remember reading that Muggles tend to communicate their romantic intentions using the language of flowers. No one wants to show up to a date empty-handed, right? Though I suppose with her skills as a perfumer, she may be the exception when it comes to flowers in general."
"I... I don't know..." Sebastian's eyes moved around, seemingly searching in his brain for an answer. "She said the main ingredient of her perfume is centifolia rose, so perhaps I could go for that... but she also mentioned lily of the valley, which is the first flower I mentioned when smelling her perfume, which could be more of a hint related to us both…"
Ominis nodded and went to answer, but was interrupted before he could even take a breath.
"Maybe a whole bouquet?" Sebastian's eyes began to shine. "With all the flowers she mentioned and then some?"
"That sounds very thoughtful. It would mean an awful lot to her I'm sure." The blond smiled at his friend. "Are you nervous?"
"Yes..." Sebastian replied, taking a deep breath.
"It'll be fine. Just be yourself."
-
Almost an entire week had passed after that conversation and Sebastian was absolutely stressing out. He had asked her to go to Hogsmeade that weekend as planned and, to his surprise and elation, she had accepted.
The day of Sebastian's planned date had finally arrived and he was turning in front of the mirror, sporting a nicer garb than usual. While the brunet was always well-kept, the green sack coat and his matching grey vest were something very unordinary for the rather casual sixth year.
"Ready to win her heart?" Ominis asked, leaning against the wall as Sebastian huffed and grunted. "You're going to make a great impression, and swipe her off her feet."
Sebastian blushed deeply as he took the bouquet he had prepared for her. His heart was racing: what if he made a fool of himself? What if she doesn't feel the same? What if the bouquet is too much?
"What if she doesn't like it?" Ominis teased his friend, as if reading his mind. "Don't you worry. You've put a lot of thought into your gift and she will definitely notice. You also bought a new dress just for her. Any woman in the world would be lucky to be on your arm today, and I assure you she'll feel the same."
Sebastian nodded, still nervous but feeling a bit better at his friend's words. Ominis could be a tease sometimes, but he knew when Sebastian wasn't in the mood to be poked fun on and only needed genuine encouragement. And that was one of those days.
"Wish me luck." He said as he left the Common Room and headed for the tree near the lake. His hands were sweating in anticipation and anxiety as he held the bouquet close to his chest.
And then he saw a figure approach him and his heart jumped in his throat.
To say that the girl looked stunning would be like telling the sun it shines. An euphemism of the highest ungraciousness.
She wore a lilac bell skirt which delicately hugged her hips, and tucked in was a matching bodice with small gigot sleeves laced with white embroidered frills and ruffles. She wore no gloves, nor a hat, as he knew Muggle women liked to do. Her hair was tied in a seemingly messy up-do — which Sebastian knew actually took a long time to achieve, as he had seen Anne spend hours in front of her vanity mirror attempting to recreate that same hairstyle for future occasions — with small curls framing her face near her ears.
He felt like a wreck, his nerves burning all over his body, but he was at least composed enough to greet her with more than a flustered smile and an awkward cough.
"M-Miss ____..." He said, bowing gallantly at the waist. "You look... exquisite. I must be the one to feel lucky today, to be in your company."
She blushed deeply, chuckling a bit at his exaggerated greeting. "You also look… very elegant today, Sebastian."
His stomach seemed to flip and he averted his eyes, which then fell on the small box in her hands. "Might I carry that for you?"
She smiled, handing him the gift. "You can carry it... because it's yours."
Her eyes twinkled with both pride for her job and perturbation at his reaction. She had carefully wrapped the gift in a velvet green foulard: the small bottle was transparent, with a green top ribboned in silver lace, the colours of Slytherin. "I had promised I'd make you a perfume, and there it is."
She watched as he opened it, twisting her hands at the centre of her hips.
When the wrapping came off fully, his jaw dropped.
"This..." He whispered, running his fingers over the bottle. "This is wonderful. Thank you. Do you mind if I try it on right now? You know me, I could never resist a new, lovely scent."
"Of course, it's made just for that after all." She smiled. "Now you can look dashing and smell good all the same."
"Well, I'd like to think that my dashing-ness is a natural feature, but I'm all for smelling good as well."
He opened the bottle carefully, and sprayed the perfume on his wrists. Immediately, he smelled the Lavender, and an earthy, homely scent. Something that actually reminded him of Feldcroft, of the summer days he spent with Anne and Ominis, when the latter visited to get away from his family. It smelled like home, and it came from her.
"This is... incredible. How do you do it?" His eyes were wide in pure delight, and his expression showed nothing but admiration for her skills as a perfumer — and for the care she had put in a gift for him.
She grinned at his reaction and averted her eyes. "It's a fougère fragrance. I used Lavender as the main ingredient: it's very popular among men's perfume and it's the first thing I noticed in Potions class... then I laced it with herbs such as Rosemary, Basil and Oakmoss, and I tied it all together with Cedarwood. It's a very earthy scent..."
"That's all a little beyond my expertise," Sebastian admitted sheepishly, his cheeks tinged red. "But it really is quite amazing; you're very talented, I can't stress that enough. I'm so grateful that you made this for me.
"I must do something to repay you some day. Are there any scents you like? I know this shop in Hogsmeade which sells amazing essential oil. Anne used to go there all the time."
“Aromatica, you mean? It’s one of my favourites.” She smiled. "I have a vast collection already, but thank you..." She stepped closer and gently grabbed the small bottle from his hands. "May I?"
His mouth went dry and it seemed like his breath had completed its journey long before its usual end. He nodded, swallowing loudly. “Of course, Miss ____.”
She lightly sprayed the perfume on the curve of his neck, and his heart raced, and his skin felt warm, and her smile felt like a gentle caress, and her eyes…
He felt an overwhelming urge to be even closer to her.
"Please, you can use my first name, and..." She looked up into his eyes. "How about that bouquet you're hiding behind you as a 'payback', hmm?”
A blush crept across his face. Her first name. She had granted him the permission to use her first name. He smiled widely, his heart doing all sorts of somersaults in his chest.
"I'd be delighted to, if you'd like me to call you that." He laughed quietly, and stepped closer, finally revealing the bouquet with a sweep of his hand. "For you."
Her smile widened and, as she saw the bouquet, her eyes did too. She seemed to be at loss for words and his hands trembled in anticipation at her reaction. She took the bouquet carefully. "You... This... There's every flower I've mentioned for my perfumes... how did you remember all of them?" She looked up at Sebastian in wonder. "This is beautiful, Sebastian, thank you." She smiled up at him, her eyes twinkling with gratitude.
"It's nothing at all, the flowers are too beautiful not to remember them," he said, grinning from ear to ear at her reaction. "And they all have such unique meanings. I’ve read a bit about the ‘language of flowers’ Muggles use. They’re very special. Like you."
She linked her arm with his as they began walking to Hogsmeade. "I’m special? How so?"
"Well, you're very intelligent and articulate, not to mention very beautiful, I must say," he said, grinning sheepishly.
"You're also really kind, and I've never met someone so... I can't really describe it, but when you look at me... well, you make me feel special, and I..." He took a deep breath, his hand opening and closing nervously at his side as he forced the words out. "I— I think I feel something for you."
She smiled and averted her eyes, and Sebastian could see her cheeks redden. His heart tugged and he bit his lip to contain his own excitement. Maybe it wasn't a mistake.
"So... The walk to Hogsmeade, the flowers, the compliments and your confession... Sebastian, is this courting, perhaps?" She teased him.
"I... yes. I’ve been thinking about it for a while, and…" He blushed slightly at the feeling of her hand on his arm, and a small giggle escaped him. But then his eyes lit up as he registered her light tone. "Does that mean... you'll allow me to court you?"
"I... I do, yes."
She pulled his arm even closer, and a wide grin spread across his face. His hands were trembling, and he tried to suppress the overwhelming urge to pull her into his arms. "Well then... Would you like to have dinner with me tonight, in Hogsmeade?"
She looked up at him in wonder. "That would be nice, yes."
They walked together for a bit, enjoying the sound of nature around them, the occasional carriages and the forest creatures which sometimes peeked curiously through the trees, before she finally spoke. "I… I don't know much about 'wizard courtship' and how different it is from Muggle one. For instance, if we were Muggles, I would need to be chaperoned. I couldn't have been walking with you and you alone."
"Really? You're not allowed to have private conversations without supervision?" He asked, his eyes wide in surprise. "What happens if you don't obey and have a private conversation? Do you get 'chastised' or something? Tell me more."
"People would consider me unworthy of respect, and think I’m doing... inappropriate things, thus ruining my chances for marriage," she rolled her eyes. "That's why I'm so adamant about women's roles and feminism, and it's the reason I got so angry after Ominis' statements."
Oh.
"Hmm... that is a strange custom I must say, it seems very... restrictive. It makes me sad to think people would see you as anything besides a wonderful, independent young lady." He said thoughtfully. "What would they think if they saw us walking together now? I'm holding your arm, and our conversation is certainly private. Does that mean we're already courting in the eyes of the Muggle world, no dinner nor flowers required?" 
"If they just saw us walking, they would think we're already engaged, or that we're related." She gave him a faint smile. "If they were to find out we aren't, we would both be 'thrown onto the streets', as they say."
She paused for a moment, taking in her surroundings. "It is also unethical for a man to be interested in a woman unless he was wealthy enough to marry her on a predictable date.”
"That means men must be rich before they can court you?" Sebastian asked, as if the idea were ridiculous. "That can't be how a union is meant to happen — that’s absurd. The heart knows where it wants to go, regardless of matters as insignificant as social standing and wealth. Isn't that what matters the most?"
"Usually, the middle class has more... freedom. They can marry for love, although the father of the woman has to approve of the man first. Most upper class, instead, are bound by arranged marriages, although there are some exceptions." She sighed, squeezing his arm closer. "And yes, no woman can go out with a man without a married woman or perhaps a brother following them. There's also no concept of dating, Sebastian, and the mere use of a first name could be misleading people into thinking you're my fiancé."
"Oh... So, a woman is not considered independent? What would happen if she were to act without her father's permission, does the law punish her somehow, or is it just a social custom?" The light dawned on Sebastian's face. "And, if the father approves of her marrying someone, how is that very different from arranged marriage? Do women not have a choice?"
"The woman has a choice to refuse, yes, but the price sometimes is worse than the marriage itself: disappointment from your parents, ostracization, repression, some even end up in… well… abuse..."
"Abuse?" Sebastian paled, his voice louder than he intended it to be. "In a marriage? That is cruelty, or madness... How is such a thing even legal anywhere? It is despicable."
“I’m telling you this, because… well…” She sighed. "My parents ought to know nothing about this, about us, until we either stop seeing each other or you decide to marry me... I'm sorry, Sebastian."
His breath caught, but he nodded nonetheless, reassuringly. “I won’t tell a soul.”
"The wizarding world is more lenient, is it not? And I'm a witch. Muggle-born or not, I'm a witch and I plan to live in this world."She looked up at him with a determined but hopeful spark, and took a trembling breath.. "I won't go back to that, I won't be thrown into an arranged marriage, I want to be free, I..."
"You're right, of course you are," he said, gently squeezing her arm. "You aren't alone. If... if anything happens, I'm here for you. Even as a friend, I promise I won't let it come to that. I would do whatever I can to make you happy, whether that means getting you away from Muggle society or something else... I just want you to feel safe."
She smiled up at him and unlinked their arms, only to wrap hers around his neck, pulling him into a hug. Sebastian was taken aback, his breath catching in his throat, but then wrapped his arms securely around her as well, as her warm body pressed against his, his mind still racing. She smelled like the flowers he had gifted her, and that hug felt like his own personal paradise.
"You're special, you know that? Thank you, Sebastian. Only..." She pulled away to look at him. "Don't even think about doing something drastic should it ever come to that point, like marrying me or something. Your freedom is yours."
"M-marry you?" He stuttered, the idea slowly forming in his mind at her words. Could that… Would that be a solution? "I didn't even think about it... why would... Is... is that what you want? I don't want... I just want to do what makes you happy."
She smiled reassuringly. "I don't want that, Sebastian. I want to do things the... wizarding way, if so to speak." She sighed. "I want to keep being your friend, to know you properly, to maybe… fall in love."
A wave of relief flooded him at her answer. He was ready to throw caution to the wind and throw everything away if he thought it would make her happy, but she didn't. He felt a smile play at his lips and he hugged her again.
"That's... exactly what I want, too," he said, kissing her forehead lightly. "I could never do any less."
She smiled, closing her eyes briefly. "You know what else isn't appropriate in the Muggle world?" She teased. "That hug and you kissing my forehead."
She let out a brief giggle and Sebastian smirked back at her. The sound of her chuckle was so sweet and carefree; he couldn't help but enjoy it... as much as he enjoyed her.
"My, my, I'm being so improper," he said, amused. "That was almost scandalous, wasn't it?"
"Very scandalous. You should just hold my arm while we walk, with a married woman following us everywhere to ensure we don't overstep." She smiled, teasing him back. "I'm certainly not allowed to call you Sebastian or hug you and get the chance to smell that beautiful perfume I made for you and that, by the way, mixes really well with your skin."
Sebastian chuckled as she spoke, his heart jumping for the umpteenth time. He had to make sure not to have a heart attack by the end of the day.
He felt a sudden urge to lean in, to kiss her and show her that all this courtesy and proper behaviour meant nothing to him. He just wanted her. He just wanted to be hers.
He pushed the thought away, but the idea still lingered at the back of his mind; it still sent waves of heat flowing throughout his veins, and his ears burnt red with the prospect of it. We are in public, Sebastian. He reminded himself.
He had never kissed anyone, and, judging by her words, neither had she, and he wanted their first kiss to be special, romantic and beautiful. Not in the middle of a street: That would be shameful, and he could never live that down.
"So," she stepped away, linking their arms again. "About that dinner you were speaking of..."
"Oh, of course!" He said, realising his mind must have drifted for a moment. "Perhaps the Three Broomsticks? I'm not sure what kind of food they serve, but it is the most renomated place in Hogsmeade after all."
He looked down at her and smiled, glad for the distraction — not that those thoughts about her had gone away.
"Is a place like that proper for courtship, or shall I find a more... suitable restaurant?" He laughed lightly, “it doesn't really matter to me, so long as I get to sit next to you."
"If it's comfortable, then it's appropriate to me." She smiled. "And the Three Broomsticks sounds nice, thank you."
He smiled down at her fondly. “Shall we go?"
She nodded and they walked together, enjoying the chat and the evening.
-
Ominis waited patiently in the comfortable silence of the dorms, another book in his hands as he waited for his friend to return, and after a few hours, Sebastian did indeed return.
The blond heard him as soon as he stepped on the stairs, his strides loud and excited as he skipped over to the entrance.
"Ominis!" His friend yelled, opening the door loudly, and the Gaunt boy couldn't help but grin excitedly.
"What is it?"
The smile on Sebastian's face was radiant, and his eyes lit up when he spoke. And he told his friend everything.
"That was..." The brunet paused for a moment at a loss for words. "It was wonderful. The food was nice, and we sat and talked, sharing jokes and I made her laugh! More than once! It was just... perfect. We spent all our time discussing our favourite subjects, our ideas on things, our fears, our aspirations. There was even some hand holding."
"Hand holding?" Ominis asked, surprised.
Sebastian blushed and nodded. "Yes... I know it's not usually proper, but... we even hugged, and I kissed her forehead, and she told me everything about Muggle courtship, and..."
"Kissed her forehead, Sebastian, you rascal, you—" Ominis' jaw dropped as he stared up in his friend’s direction in awe. "You... you kissed her, Sebastian?" He said in a breathless chuckle. Sebastian blushed profusely.
"Not— Not on the lips, of course."
"Yes, of course..." Ominis said with a smirk, his voice warm with amusement. "But, still... That is wonderful. I can literally hear the joy in your voice. I'm so happy for you, Sebastian, but seriously: try to refrain yourself."
He shook his head and pretended to tut, but despite his playful banter, he sounded almost like a proud father. "How does she feel about you? Is she as... intrigued?"
Sebastian blushed even more.
"I-I think so... She initiated the hug." He paused pondering.
"And, in a way, we talked about marriage," he suddenly added, unable to stop himself, "but not in the way you think."
"Marriage?" Sebastian's revelation made Ominis blink in surprise, and his brows furrowed. "In what way, then, if I may ask? I don't want to make any false assumptions."
"She... She told me about Muggle culture," Sebastian said, his tone now serious. "And the role of women in it, and it was so… oppressive, Ominis. She talked about women not being allowed outside without a chaperone, about how 'dating' doesn't exist and men and women can only meet in the prospect of a future arrangement, and… How... How her parents ought to know nothing about our encounters, because she is upper class, and..." He trailed off, his chest suddenly feeling too heavy. "That's why she was so unwilling to forgive you after the comment you had made."
"O-Oh..." The blond said, his voice sombre and guilty as he remembered his old conversation with the girl. "Is there no one who could help her? Nothing we can do?"
"That's when we talked about marriage..." Sebastian whispered. "I said I'd do anything... anything to ensure she won't have to be... sold to someone who doesn't deserve her."
Ominis was quiet for a long moment. He felt his stomach turn as he pictured her being trapped in a loveless marriage, a marriage of convenience to please her parents rather than for her own sake.
"Would you..." He whispered, his heart beating faster and faster in his chest. "Would you marry her, Sebastian? Just to protect her?"
"I..." The brunet choked on his words and gulped, his mouth dry. "I... If it means she will be fine...
"But… But she understood, and she told me not to. That my freedom is just as valuable, and… She told me she wants it to be natural, to fall in love, maybe even with me, but her family… she's upper class, after all." He repeated.
Ominis felt his heart sink. "If her parents get their way… they’ll sell her to an aristocrat for their own benefit, and she'll be forced to spend a miserable, loveless life...”
Sebastian didn't answer. Instead, he put his head in his hands, his eyes burning in their sockets with unspilled tears.
"I'll keep her here," he whispered. "In the wizarding world, where she doesn't... doesn't have to..."
Ominis immediately heard the sniffles in his voice, and slowly stood up to sit next to his friend. He spoke delicately, weighing each word. He knew Sebastian must feel so helpless, broken, not only because it was clear that, after spending the last year being best friends with the girl, his feelings had mutated into something more than a crush, but because she was still extremely important to him, love or not.
"That's not the way it has to be," The blond said. "There must... there must be a way to fix this."
Sebastian shook his head but didn't trust himself to speak. He leaned into Ominis embrace and real tears started to fall from his eyes.
There was no solution, nothing to do. There were only two choices: leaving her to her fate or alienating her from the Muggle society and her whole family. Ominis didn’t say a word more, letting his friend cry on his shoulder. The injustice left him feeling sick.
"I promise to you," he said, his tone warm, calm and soothing, "there will be a way. Maybe not immediately... but we will figure something out."
Sebastian spent the whole night tossing and turning and crying, and the next day, he awoke with sticky eyes and a swollen face — not to mention the heavy feeling in his chest. But he'd have to put on a brave face for her, he'd see her in class, that much was certain, and he couldn't show her that her condition made him suffer.
And for a while he did. For a few months, he was able to smile and laugh with her, to take walks with her as she fed the Thestrals. He was in awe every time: people hated those creatures, and even he, the first time, was on edge when she took him into the forest. But that was only one more beautiful trait he would sell his soul to have near him.
And as time went on, he started feeling hopeful. They were nearing the end of the school year, not to mention their legal age in the Wizarding World. The age where they would finally be allowed to use a wand at their discretion outside of school. The age when she could finally be free.
Act III
The first time Sebastian got his heart broken was at the beginning of their seventh year.
He had spent the last few weeks counting the days until her birthday. It was still months away, but that did not stop his heart from leaping with excitement at the prospect of her turning seventeen. Of her freedom.
And she was too perfect not to be free.
He had come to that conclusion that summer when he had invited her to stay in Feldcroft.
Of course, it was Anne who had to meet with her father to make sure no injudicious business was going on. It seemed the Sallow twin had enough of a silver tongue to convince an entire aristocratic Muggle family to let her daughter stay in their house. Adequate parlance, he recalled.
Sebastian had spent that week basking in the presence of the object of his affection in his very home. He made sure she did not have to lift a finger while he hosted her at his place, but as usual, she got her way most of the time,and was constantly out and about doing something to help around.
Most of the time, however, she stayed with Anne.
She had made Anne a simple perfume as well, using flowers from the meadow around the farm, not to mention the wide range of essential oils the brunette had bought from Aromatica in the weeks prior to the girl's visit.
The house never smelled better.
Sebastian would walk in after a day of helping around and studying new spells to find the two girls engrossed in an activity here and there.
She taught Anne Muggle embroidery. She had sewn her a small handkerchief. She had braided her hair with flowers.
It was not difficult for him to imagine a whole life that way.
That week was his personal idyll, and he wanted to believe it his near future as well.
When she left, he had to spend some time getting used to her absence, and that was nothing short of agonising, especially throwing his twin's teasing into the mix, but one thing gave him more hope than anything else: the fact that, perhaps, he might not have to get used to her absence in his home.
When he returned to Hogwarts for his seventh year, he made sure to spend every appropriate moment with her. They studied together, he let her play with his hair, they duelled — and she won, again and again, as she always did — and talked. They talked. A lot. But not as much as he imagined. Because Sebastian Sallow was always imagining lately.
Every time he looked at her, he imagined.
He imagined a ring of white gold on her finger, engraved with their initials. He imagined her telling him that yes, she wanted to marry him, her neck adorned with those embroidered white frills that weren't seen contrasting lilac that time. He imagined her in his arms, telling him with her beautiful, radiant smile that she loved him. He imagined and imagined until his brain was too small to fit any further, and he didn't want it to be just a fantasy anymore.
But with it came the nightmares, seeping through the empty spaces of bliss in his mind, plaguing most of his nights, when he felt his heart tearing in his chest.
That night was one such.
Sebastian had spent it tossing and turning and breaking out in a cold sweat as he saw her being ripped away from him. As he saw her say yes to another, albeit behind empty eyes and hollow words. As he saw the complacent smiles of her parents as she brought even more wealth into the family.
“No!” He awoke with a jolt for what seemed to be the hundredth time that month and looked around desperately, as if asserting that, once again, it was only a nightmare. That she was still there. That she could still be his.
Ominis was awake already, and looking in his direction with the same concerned expression he grew accustomed to lately.
“I’m okay. Just a nightmare.” Sebastian quickly got ready, not bothering to do his tie properly or wear his perfume. And that, he never forgot.
-
When he reached the Great Hall, he couldn’t help but search for her in the crowd of students. He needed to see that she was still with them. Still safe.
“Sebastian.”
He turned around with a jolt and she jumped slightly in surprise.
“Are you alright?” She asked, examining his exhausted face.
“Of… Of course.” He replied, rather unconvincingly, but he hoped she wouldn't ask any more questions. The last thing he wanted was to worry her any further. So he diverted the conversation. “How about you?”
She shrugged, holding up a piece of neatly folded parchment. “Post.” She simply said. “I’ll read it later.”
He nodded, his lips dry and an uneasy feeling in his chest. Post this early?
“I’ll see you later, all right? I’m starving.” She waved and turned in the direction of her table.
“Wait, who… Is it from Anne?” He stopped her, holding onto a glimmer of hope. Maybe he was reading too much into it and it was only his twin reaching out to greet her and ask her if she would spend Christmas with them in Feldcroft. His sister could do with some more company after all.
“My father, actually.” She turned the letter in her hands.
He swallowed thickly, that glimmer going out as soon as it ignited. He forced the words out. “You— You don’t think it’s about… that, right?” He asked in a feeble voice, choking on his words.
She narrowed her eyes a bit, just as she did the first time they met. “Is that why you look so… dishevelled today?” She tilted her head. “I don’t want to worry you, Sebastian. Promise me you won’t think about it anymore.”
He faltered, and it took a while for his neck to move in what biasedly resembled a nod, for which he appeared totally unconvincing. She sighed deeply and averted her eyes before walking away.
Sebastian's gaze followed her figure and his breath quickened. For some reason, he was panicking, more than usual.
“Why is your breathing ragged? Is it because of the nightmare?” Ominis asked, furrowing his brows.
“Yes… Probably.” He replied, not taking his eyes off the girl.
He tried not to let his mind wander too much, taking a deep breath and following Ominis to the table — not that he was hungry anymore. In fact, the mere sight of food made the pit of his stomach close painfully.
Sebastian spent a few minutes staring at his eggs, before he ran his hands through his hair desperately. His eyes searched for her at her House table, then in the crowd of students leaving and entering the Great Hall, but her figure had vanished before his eyes in a heartbeat. His face fell.
"She... She's not there anymore." He whispered to Ominis. "What if this... ruins my chances? What if I broke her trust? What if, now that she knows I'm worried sick, she won't ever want to see me again to spare me?"
Ominis' breath caught in his throat at Sebastian's words, but he forced himself to calm down, to give Sebastian a pillar to lay on as his mind already braced itself for the worst.
"I'm sure... I'm sure that if you explain yourself, she'll understand." He tried to comfort his friend.
Sebastian didn't say anything and instead stood up abruptly to go find her. He needed to find her. There had to be a solution, anything he could do for her while also not showing that her condition made him suffer. He didn't want to lose her, neither her friendship nor her future to some aristocrat. He wanted to court her, to be with her, to openly love her.
-
After about half an hour of searching — with the help of various ghosts, students and the infamous Revelio Spell — Sebastian found her alone, reading at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, seemingly oblivious to her surroundings. She seemed to have found some small nook hidden from view that no other students seemed to know about. Sebastian would go as far as saying she had made it herself.
He stopped at the entrance of it and leaned against the compact dirt and rocks on the side, staring at her thoughtfully for a while.
Just the sight of her made him feel better.
A slight smile spread across his face as he watched her hold her book carefully. No one could have the heart to hurt her, he thought. How could anyone possibly do such a thing?
Sebastian studied her for a while, not wishing to make any sudden moves and scare her. After a few minutes, though, he stepped forward, walking slowly, silently, until he was no more than a few steps from her, and finally spoke.
"Hello," he said quietly, a small smile on his face as he took a seat next to her. She looked at him, a bit startled, but did not try to move away from him like he feared she would.
"Sorry about this morning," he looked at her apologetically, his tone holding a hint of awkwardness. "Can we... talk, for a minute or two?"
"How did you find me? This place is pretty hidden..."
"How did I find you?" He said, a slight chuckle escaping his lips. "You know me. I know every hidden place in this school and around. Being sneaky is part of my genetic makeup."
The thought was intended as humour, but she didn't smile at his joke, and he realised his attempt fell flat. His smirk disappeared, replaced with an apologetic small smile.
"But you are right. You are not that easy to find..." He let out a breath, looking out over the Forbidden Forest. She didn't answer.
"So, I have to ask..." He whispered, his voice soft, his body tense like a chord as he tried to diffuse the awkwardness. "What are you reading? Something good?"
She looked down to her book as if reading the title for the first time. "Little Women... It's a muggle book"
"Hm. And what's it about?" he asked, his head cocked to the side curiously.
"It talks about four sisters growing up and struggling with their place in society as women." She sighed. "Quite fitting..."
"Ah…" He nodded thoughtfully, feeling the familiar anxiety rising once again at her words. "Would you say it's a good read? Are you enjoying it?"
She handed him the book musingly. "I've read it more than once, you can read it if you want."
Sebastian took it, hesitantly, and ran his hand over the well-worn pages as he looked down at it. It was clear the book must have been quite old. He slowly opened it, examining the faded print on the edge of the cover, feeling the old paper beneath his fingers. When he read, he always did so with care, turning pages one at a time, as if he feared they would tear his hands. He began to read, the gentle rustling of the pages quickly mingling with the light rustling of the leaves in the breeze. It was a pleasing and comforting sound.
She stayed quiet, staring blankly at the ground as he silently read. Her mind felt empty, and it was like her whole body was melting. She wasn't all there, that much was clear. It was like her usual self was trapped somewhere far deep in her brain with no way out. Sebastian immediately noticed the way she seemed to almost ‘fade’ as he read next to her, and a familiar sense of concern rose up in him. He wanted to reach out to her, to do something to take every pain away from her, to take her in his arms or hold her hand. However, he forced himself to resist: he would wait, for now, for her to speak, if and when she wished to.
He finished the chapter, closing the book carefully and returning it to her with a small smile. "I have to say, that's very well written. I was completely hooked."
She nodded. "You can borrow it, if you wish..."
Her voice was monotone, with no emotions in it. It lacked the usual cadence and musicality, her usual modulation. It sounded empty, and it hurt him to hear her like this — it scared him, in a sense. Something wasn't right, that was clear. 
He wanted to say something, to help, but he didn't know what the problem was, and thus he didn't know what to do. And so he stayed quiet, deciding to go a different route. His voice lightened a little, trying to sound more cheerful: maybe that would make it better?
"How many books do you have? I'd certainly be willing to lend you some… or… or I could borrow some as well, if you’ll have me."
"I have plenty." She whispered. Her eyes shifted around aimlessly as she played with her bracelet, seemingly grounding herself to reality, to the conversation, to his presence.
"You have plenty?" He repeated, a small, reassuring smile dancing on his lips. "Well, you did mention you were quite the avid reader. You are my best friend after all, aren't you? And there aren't many things that I enjoy more than reading... and good company, of course." He paused for a second, his eyes flickered towards the girl, and then away. "Which do you like more? The reading or the company?”
But at that point, Sebastian was basically talking to himself. She had stopped playing with the bracelet, losing her hold on reality in the meantime. She was trapped in her mind, far away. And she didn't answer.
He looked over at her lack of response and a chill washed over him as he looked at her. What is happening? He thought, panic rising in his chest, his heart beating fast. He stayed frozen in his place for long, painful seconds, his mind racing, before he reached out slowly, taking her hand in his.
"Okay, talk to me." he whispered. "Tell me what’s wrong."
She didn't move, nor registered the feeling of his hand in hers, but she heard herself speak, like it came from far away. "You're not wearing the cologne," she said slowly. "The one I brewed for you."
The sound of her voice, so soft and hollow, was heart-wrenching. When she spoke, it was as if a cold hand had gripped his heart, clutching it tightly. And the emptiness of her voice nearly undid him entirely.
He let out a small laugh: sad and hysterical, like the voice of a man whose life was crumbling apart. He felt as if her pain was his pain, and he just wanted to make her feel better.
"No," he said quietly, "not today."
But as he saw her sombre expression, his heart sank even more, and he felt the need to quickly add: "I still have it. It's my most prized possession… I've just forgotten this morning because… Well, I was in a rush, sort of. Forgive me."
She only nodded, her eyes casting downwards. She felt so tired, like her body was on edge and too calm at the same time. Like part of her wanted to jump out of her skin and leave. Leave that place. Leave everything behind.
"Can I ask?" He asked quietly, reaching out to touch her cheek lightly and turn her head towards him. "What... happened? What has come over you? You weren't like this an hour ago."
He looked directly into her eyes, trying to see beyond the nothingness of her gaze towards her true feelings, the feelings she was trying so hard to keep buried, but her vacant eyes broke his heart. "It's scaring me. Please..."
She blinked a few times, thinking, before she slowly reached into her bag and took the letter she had received that morning, handing it to him. The letter was wrinkled and there were a few dried tears smudging the paper.
"I'm officially off the market." She said emptily.
A sudden wave of realisation hit him, stopping his heart on the spot as he took the letter with shaky hands. A horrified look spread across his face. No. Please no.
"Wh-What?" He whispered, trying to control his voice, so that he wouldn’t break into a sob right there and then. It was like one of his nightmares. One of those bad dreams that kept him up since the start of the school year. It couldn't be real. It couldn't be happening. It had to be just another delusion.
"Your father... your father…" He took a deep, strained breath. "Why?"
"I'm his only daughter," she said blankly. "I knew it would happen sooner or later. I just wish I could have found a solution before it did." She looked at him, her eyes still unfocused. "I'm sorry, Sebastian. It seems like I won't have the choice to love you after all."
Those words cut directly through his chest. The shock of those words, the sudden burst of panic as he saw his greatest torment take shape right before his eyes: it felt like he had been punched directly in the heart, like someone had reached through his flesh and snatched the throbbing muscle fresh out of him.
"No," he whispered, a sob escaping him without his control. "Please... please..." 
He grabbed her, unable to hold back for another second, and pulled her into a tight hug, holding her close as he felt his heart break, its sharp pieces sticking in his lungs with each tear.
"You can't mean that." He sobbed, his voice breaking. "You can't."
She rested her head on his shoulder, as he cried. Slowly, she hugged him back. She had already shed all her tears, so the only thing she could do was let him do the same.
"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I really liked you… I need you to know that."
He wanted to be strong. He wanted to be there for her, to comfort her, to be the shoulder she could cry on. But in the end, the hopelessness he had been feeling every night became more real to him, and her body was warm against his.
And he broke.
His body trembled as he kept her close, wishing that, maybe, if he held her close enough she would be safe forever.
He cried for a while, his face buried against her shoulder, his body wrecked by sobs. And with each of them, the pieces of his heart ripped at his dreams, the white gold decaying before his very eyes, and her arms wrapped softly around him only compounded the pain he felt.
"You can't…" He whispered in her neck, almost deliriously. "You can't leave me."
When he finally stopped crying, he looked down at her. She didn't look like the girl he knew. The usual light in her face had gone, replaced with pure hollowness, and his heart broke all over again. "It's... it's alright," he whispered earnestly, wiping his tears. "I— I understand."
She nodded, cupping his cheek in her hand and wiping his tears. "Keep that book for me, okay?" She whispered, resigned. "I think... soon enough… I'll be made to leave Hogwarts, too, and… and perhaps the country as well."
He closed his eyes, the last remaining drops falling from his eyes and onto her palm. Leave Hogwarts. Leave the life she had known all these years.
Leave him.
The thought of not seeing her at all ever again made his stomach twist excruciatingly.
"Of course," he said earnestly, his voice soft and gentle in the silence that followed. He kissed her forehead, like it was the most precious thing he had ever known and rested his own on that same spot right after.
"I'll look after it. I promise." He smiled sadly, looking at her. "I'll keep it safe with me, alright? In my room. And if you..." He was unable to finish the sentence, the thought of her leaving too much to bear. Another small sob made its way past his lips and he felt his eyes well up again. "If you ever need anything... you know you can come to me, right? No matter where you are, you can still come to me…"
She nodded and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. "Tell Ominis I forgive him, okay? It doesn't do well to hold grudges. And..." She paused. "Sebastian... promise me you'll wear that cologne."
Her proximity, her nearness to him, caused a fluttering feeling in his chest, like at least two of the thousand pieces of his heart found their way to each other again.
"Of course. I..." He said, his voice cracking. "Don't... don't be silly..." He tightened his arms around her in a hug, tears rising in his eyes once again. "I'll wear the cologne, alright? For you. I promise."
"Good. I worked an awful lot to make it for you." She let out a soft chuckle. "Thank you for inviting me to your house this summer. I really wished it could have been you... if anything."
There was a constant, painful weight in his chest, and a burning feeling in his throat, a lump so big it seemed to reach his lungs, too. He tried to swallow that pain back down, not wanting to burden her with his own feelings anymore, and let out a heavy sigh. "I wish it could have been me too."
The words had only just left his mouth when his breath caught in his chest. He hadn't meant to say that. Not like this. "I— I mean..."
"I know." She smiled, taking a big breath. "If we were older, maybe… I could've stayed here… away from those traditions, away from… a man I don't love."
There was a stab in his heart again as he rested his chin on her shoulder, and suddenly nothing mattered to him anymore. Nor her father, nor the Muggle world, nor the very concept of society. All that mattered was her, and the ring he was going to buy for her one day. "I won't let you do that," he said resolutely. "I don't care about your stupid traditions. I won't let you go."
"Sebastian. I… I'm still sixteen. I don't have a choice."
"Then I'll make one for you. You said it yourself: steal that ride, remember?" He said, caressing her cheek. "If a path is already paved, you should use it. I'll pave that path for you. I'll give you the life you deserve. I'm— I'm— I'll find a way."
And he swore he saw the gears in her brain turning behind her beautiful eyes. "If by any chance I don't leave Hogwarts…" she bit her lip. "I'll have to begin my courtship now, yes, but by tradition, I can't be wedded until I'm at least twenty-one."
A glimmer of hope made its way through the cracks of his nightmare. If she could delay her marriage, they could still get away. Make a life in this world. Be free.
"Maybe I can ask Ominis to talk Professor Black into it. You know their families share ties," he said.
"I'm a Muggle-born. Neither the Gaunts nor Headmaster Black would care, I— I'm not important to them."
"That doesn't matter." He interjected, both his hands now on her cheeks. "You're important to me. You're so much more than blood or… or tradition. I don't care if your whole family hates me, I don't care if the whole muggle world hates me. I'll find a way. I'll do anything to make you happy."
Her eyes widened in wonder. "For… For me? You can't do that, Sebastian, you—"
"I can and I will." He said, raising his voice slightly. "I'll do whatever must be done. I will protect you. I will find a way to keep you here. I refuse to let them take you away from me."
She leaned into his touch and closed her eyes. Finally, she started to cry as she covered his hand on her cheek with her own.
"I… I can't thank you enough, Sebastian I…" She gave him a small, quivering smile. "Never had someone cared so much about me…"
His heart fluttered and he caressed her cheek with his thumb. "You deserve it. You are special, remember? And I will do everything to keep you safe here with me."
"Seb…" She whispered, her eyes darting on his face. "I am in emotional distress, and yes, I feel gratitude towards you, immense gratitude… But I want you to know that it's not these feelings that are driving me to do what I want to do right now…" She paused, biting her lip. "And it's a very inappropriate thing by muggle standards."
His heart jumped again, hitting that lump that still lingered in his throat.
"What is?" He whispered, his eyes looking at every inch of her face.
"This."
And with that she kissed him. Gently. Hesitantly. It was all so sudden: her sweet lips on his, the warmth of her body and the soft intimacy of her, and whatever romance book he'd read, it was nothing compared to how it felt.
There were no fireworks. His heart was not pounding. It felt right. It felt like he had done it a thousand times and would do it a thousand more.
Her lips melded perfectly with his as his arms found their way around her waist and pulled her closer. He tangled his fingers in her hair and smelled the lily of the valley, and tasted her tears on her lips, and tasted his own along. She wrapped her arms around his neck and it was so slow and loving and passionate that he felt his limbs melt around her. He held her in his arms and kissed her again and again, as if he could never let her go. He could stay there forever, just like that, in that warm embrace where he felt at home.
The thought came like a shock of lightning in his stomach. He felt his arms hold her tighter, his voice soften the slightest bit. "I love you." He whispered.
She looked into his eyes, and he counted every speck of colour in them, one more beautiful than the other.
“You do?” She asked, her lips ghosting his, their breaths mingling. “You… love me?”
"I know I do," he breathed. “I would feel lost, incomplete without you. I want to wake up next to you every morning; I want to hear your voice, see your smile everyday and be the reason for it; I want to share my life with you. I... I want to give my life for you... for us." His words were soft, sweet, honest. "Yes, I love you."
“You… You really mean that?” She looked stunned, before averting her eyes. “I… I don’t want you to lose your freedom. I don’t want to be the reason you’re unhappy.”
“I could never be unhappy with you.” He whispered, caressing her cheek, and kissed her again.
“If… If you meant all that, and…” She paused, the weight of her words crushing her lungs. “You’ve only shown kindness to me… You’ve bought me flowers, you invited me to your house and… you said you wanted to court me… Do you still want that?”
His heart fluttered, and he couldn’t stop himself from smiling. He probably looked like a lovestruck idiot, but he didn’t care. Because the only thing that mattered right now was her. And how sweet she was, and how tender her words were, and how perfectly she fit in his arms.
“I don’t want to just court you,” he whispered, holding her face in his palm. “I want to marry you. I… I want you to be my wife. I have for a while now.”
His voice trembled in anticipation and fear, and his breath hitched when he saw the most gorgeous smile break on her beautiful face.
“T-Then… if my father approves… and he calls off this arrangement in favour of yours…” She said, her voice quivering, and he kissed her cheekbone reassuringly. “I’ll be honoured to become completely yours when the time comes.”
And there it was once more, the feeling that it must be a dream, that it couldn't be real. He must have fallen asleep during Ancient Runes again. His cheeks stretched into the widest grin, his chest hurt and the burn spread to his arms, which tightened around her as if wanting to melt her body into his.
“Do you…Really?” He whispered breathlessly, his eyes wide not to miss any detail of her face, in fear that, if he got distracted even just a second, she would fleet away.
“I love you, and I want to marry you, too.”
And he kissed her again, holding her like she was his very lifeline. And that time, he didn't taste tears or lips. He tasted her, everything she was and everything she would be with him, and he tasted his devotion, his affection as it found its way to her heart and made its home in that small nook just as he did in the much bigger one they were in, and he tasted hers doing the same, slowly grabbing the pieces scattered in his chest and using them to build its home again. And he kissed her until there was no air left. And he would happily give up his lungs as long as he still had her lips. Because the only thing he needed to breathe was her.
"And if not?" His voice trembled as his mouth reluctantly left its place. "If your father doesn't approve, will you still marry me? Would you run away with me? What would happen to us?"
"I would get thrown out of the muggle world…" She said, and he could feel a crack of uncertainty in her eyes, but then she licked her lips, and felt him, and everything he was for her. "But… I still have the wizarding world… our world. And I'll be yours until it crumbles."
"Then I'll make sure it's everlasting. I'll hold its weight in my hands if I have to."
"The only thing I want you to hold is me." She smiled and kissed the tip of his nose.
He let out a shaky breath.
"My companion for life." His voice trembled. "Each time I looked at you, I could only imagine what it would be like to have you as mine, how perfect our life could be and… and when you visited this summer and I saw you in my home, with Anne… I…"
She looked into his eyes reassuringly, and that was all Sebastian needed. She knew.
"I won't let anyone take you away from me." His arms tightened around her. "I love you."
"I love you, too." She gave him a small peck. "I'll write to my father, and… you probably will have to meet him soon."
"I will. I'll do anything in my power to make him say yes. And then… we can be one."
"And if he doesn't…" She smiled and he saw that astute spark that he loved so much. "You and I could threaten him with magic. He's scared of it, like all muggles."
"We could, couldn't we?" He smirked, his eyelids lowering slightly as he looked at her. "We could give him a taste of what your real home taught us."
She chuckled. "We still have the Trace, though, so it would be unwise to really try anything, or my real home will oust me before he can."
"We do have the Trace." He smiled wickedly. "But he doesn't have to know that."
She hugged him again and rested her head on his shoulder. "And if he tries to take me away once I'm seventeen, I'll modify his memories."
His breath caught, and frankly he should've been more concerned with her devil-may-care attitude on such a delicate matter… but he couldn't find it in his heart. He loved the idea just as much.
"That's my girl." He chuckled lowly and turned his head to kiss her forehead. "I knew you'd find the perfect way to deal with this."
He ran his hand on her arms as she cuddled in his lap, and then spoke again softly: "Would you really? Use it against your father, I mean."
"He doesn't deserve respect. He doesn't deserve to be called a father. All my life, he has treated me like a future investment, so I'll show no mercy, just as he did while raising me." She lifted her head and pecked his lips. "Especially if it means I can be with you after."
"Soon, he'll see the consequences of his foolishness." He muttered, his voice softer. "For now, you're mine to hold, to love, and to cherish, and that won't change."
"Stay with me for a bit," she breathed out, "here where no one can find us. We can read together, we can… skip classes?"
"Yes," he whispered tenderly. "Skip classes. Skip whatever you want."
He leaned down and kissed her again, and she wrapped her arms around his neck.
"All this kissing… it would be considered very inappropriate according to my family, but…" She pressed her lips on his again. "We're not in that stupid society, so we can do anything we want."
He laughed against her lips, and felt her breath on his chin, and cheeks, and nose, and everywhere it mattered. "Exactly. There's no one here who can tell us what to do… what to be. So… kiss me more, please?"
She smiled and did just that, pressing all her relief and joy against his soft flesh.
"Sebastian, I do want to marry you, but… I also want to experience what you pureblood wizards call 'dating', so…" Her nose bumped his tenderly. "Date me?"
He drew in a sharp breath, and his hands trembled around her.
"Yes," he choked on his breath. "Yes. A thousand times yes."
"Then I'll have to get Anne's blessing."
He rolled his eyes. "Anne loves you more than she loves me, I promise you."
He pretended to sulk and she giggled.
"Well, then she'll be happy I'll have her surname soon."
His jaw fell open as he stared at her, his chest filled with butterflies. He wanted to answer properly, to say something sweet, or witty, or tender, but he could only manage a choked sound at the back of his throat. She smiled and his breath hitched.
"Mrs. Sallow, is it?"
And if at least one name in that entire forsaken world had to sound perfect, that would be it. And she was perfect. And maybe, just maybe, he could be perfect with her.
304 notes · View notes
Text
Trust Me
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Summary: When the reader wakes up in what was meant to be her grave, she doesn’t want to trust anyone, especially the charming cop that found her...
Pairing: Beau Arlen x reader
Word Count: 3,300ish
Warnings: language, attempted murder, injury, frightening situations
A/N: Something a wee bit creepy and fluffy for Halloween. Also my first Beau Arlen fic! Enjoy!
_______
You inhaled sharply, immediately aware of the cold clinging to your skin. Pain radiated through your body, eyes open but trying to take in too much at once. They caught the glint of a badge and you shot your body backwards, sliding against plastic. Panic crept through your veins as you realized half of your body was wrapped in it, covered with dead leaves.
You were surrounded by nearly ten people, all of them wide eyed with jaws dropped. You spun around on your bottom, screeching when a hand touched your shoulder. 
“Hey, hey, darlin’. You’re safe,” said a handsome man. Your eyes flicked down, a badge and gun on his hip. 
You wiped the gentle smile clean off his face when you tried to throw a punch only to realize your hands were bound behind you. People were talking, mind racing a million miles an hour as you tried to get your feet to move, run you far, far away.
“You’re safe,” said the man, pulling you into a bear hug you couldn’t even try to escape from. He pressed his lips to the top of your head, shushing you, whispering soft murmurs. “You’re safe, honey. Not gonna let anything bad happen to you, okay?”
You tried to jerk away, a scream wanting to climb out of your throat, only stopping when you realized how painful it was. Whatever energy you had depleted quickly, your face falling to the crook of the man’s neck.
“Send the coroner’s office away and someone get me an ambulance now,” said the man faintly, every frayed nerve in your body collapsing at once. “Fuck it, give me an escort to the hospital now.”
You woke up alone in a hospital room, bandages wrapped around your appendages. Your throat felt a hell of a lot better as you sat up, touching your face, neck, pinching your thigh. 
Alive. You were most definitely alive.
Which was interesting since you vaguely recalled being strangled to death. And waking in what you assumed was your grave. 
In front of an assload of cops.
Your body ached from the fight you’d lost but you forced your legs over the edge of the bed and grabbed the IV attached to your arm, ripping it out painfully. You got to the other side of the room where some sweats sat on a table when the door opened, a doctor in a white coat, two nurses in scrubs and the handsome man from before rushed in. Your eyes locked with the cops, his hand raising as the medical personnel stared at you.
“She’s okay. You’re okay, darlin’, aren’t ya?” he said. You lowered your gaze to his badge and then his gun before nodding slowly. “See? Just a bit jumpy, understandably so.”
“I want to leave,” you said, staring at the cop. He shared a look with the doctor. “Unless I am actively dying, I want to leave this hospital.”
“Is she okay to go?” asked the cop. You narrowed your eyes at him. He could play nice all he wanted but you knew exactly who he was and what he wanted.
“Her tests were negative but she needs to stay overnight to be safe,” said the doctor. 
“What tests?” you snapped. 
“You had no pulse when we found you or most likely, a very faint one,” said the cop, carefully stepping forward. “I’m Beau Arlen. Sheriff. Do you remember me?”
“From where I woke up in a shallow grave? Hard to forget,” you said, turning to the doctor. “Is my heart okay?”
“Most likely but you really need to stay for observation and to ensure your neck doesn’t swell again,” he said. You touched a hand to the side, feeling the ache of a bruise. “Sheriff Arlen, perhaps you can wait to question Y/N?”
“How do you know who I am?” you asked. Beau raised an eyebrow.
“You’ve been missing for two days. Your face has been all over the news. Your father’s on his-”
With that news you took your chances and rushed the cop. You tried to slip past him, thankfully distracting him. As he tried to grab your shoulders, it left his holster open and you grabbed the gun, Beau backing off as soon as you had it in your hands and aimed square at his chest.
“Car keys,” you said. He lifted his chin, taking a careful step forward.
“Do you one better. You give me back the gun and I’ll take you wherever you want to go right now. No questions asked.” You shook your head, Beau cocking his head. “If I was involved in whatever it is you think I am, don’t you think I would have killed you when we were alone in my truck?”
“Did he bring me here by himself?” you asked. One of the nurses nodded, Beau holding out a hand. 
“Come on, darlin’. Now or never.” Your stomach flipped as you handed him back the gun. He shoved it back in the holster and to your surprise, he started to walk down the hall. “We ain’t got all day.”
You stared after him before catching up, swallowing as you followed him silently out a side door and into a beat up truck.
“Before I take you wherever it is you want me to, why don’t you tell me why you’re so fucking terrified of your father, who happens to aslo be a cop?” He started the car, watching your hand reach for the door. “He did this to you, didn’t he.”
“I can’t trust-” He took out the holster and sat it on the bench between us, nodding his head.
“You can keep that until you do trust me. Until then, let’s consider this protective custody with a twist.” 
“You’re weird,” you said, picking up the gun, leaving it aimed down at the floor. 
“Oh come on. Everyone likes a weird friend,” he said. You shut your eyes, flashing them open when you heard sirens. You slid down into the foot well and shoved the gun back on the bench towards him. He stared down at you as he put the gun away, a knowing look on his face. “See, you are also extremely weird. We’re two peas in a pod.”
“I’m fucking traumatized!” you said as loud as you dared. He frowned, nodding once.
“I know you are. I promise nothing bad will happen to you and I promise that I can’t be bought. When you’re ready to tell me your dad did this, I’ll go after him. Until then, I’ll keep you safe. Now considering you didn’t have much of a pulse a few hours ago I say first order of business is to get you somewhere you can rest. Deal?” You nodded slowly, Beau patting the seat. “Come up where it’s safer.”
“Not until we’re out of this parking lot.” He held up his hands and put the truck in reverse. “You know if you’re lying to me and you’re taking me anywhere I don’t like-”
“We both know you trust me or else you wouldn’t have given me my gun back. So don’t feel like you have to make threats. You should be dead. I already know you’re tough.” You closed your eyes, a gentle hand resting on your head. “We’ll get you someplace safe real soon, sweetie.”
You must have fallen asleep in the truck because when you woke up, you were in a bed in what looked like a camper. A very nice camper but still, it wasn’t what you were expecting. You sat up against the mountain of pillows behind you, surprised to find two wires slipping inside your hospital gown. To the left on the nightstand sat a small machine that was tracking your heart rate. It shot upright when the door opened, Beau smiling softly.
“You’re looking better,” he said, taking two steps in and setting some clothes down on the end of the bed. “These are my daughter’s clothes. I figured you wouldn’t mind getting out of that gown. I didn’t want to leave you on your own.”
“So you own a portable heart rate monitor just because?” He shrugged, setting a bottle of pills down on top of the clothes. “You went back to the hospital.”
“I sent a trusted officer to the hospital. The doctor said you need to take this every twelve hours so you don’t get an infection.”
“Awesome,” you said. He left you to change and ten minutes later, you’d worked up the courage to exit the room, spotting Beau outside on his porch. You ducked outside, Beau changed into a maroon long sleeve shirt and a dark gray flannel. “Interesting safe house.”
“Well when I made the move up here this land had a little hunting cabin but my daughter wouldn’t want to stay in there. The airstream is big enough for us two,” he said. He picked up an outdoor blanket from a chair and tucked it around your shoulders. “You like leftover lasagna?”
“I am kind of starving.”
“Well make yourself at home then. Bathroom is right next to the bedroom and you,” he said, pulling a chair over to a firepit that had a small bundle of flames going, “Can relax and decompress a bit. Dinner’ll be out soon.”
You sat down, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself, watching him go back inside. 
“Y/N,” he said, pausing in the doorway. He looked over his shoulder and nodded. “I’m right here. No one’s going to bother you.”
“Okay,” you breathed out. You closed your eyes and tucked your feet up onto the chair. 
He’d keep you safe. He seemed smart and nice. You’d be okay with him.
You hoped.
“So,” said Beau after dinner, sitting back in his chair next to you. He sipped on his beer, watching the flames dance in the dark. “You want to tell me what happened? Sooner you do, sooner I can put whoever tried to kill you behind bars.”
Flashes of pain scattered through your mind, the inability to breath, the pounding of your heart. It’d hurt so much. It’d hurt so fucking much.
“He strangled me,” you said, looking down at your lap. “And I knew I was going to die the whole time. And...and I don’t know how I’m alive. I woke up in a grave today.”
“I can’t take away that fear or pain and I’m sorry, darlin’. I truly am. You got me good when you popped up like that earlier but damn, I was glad to see you alive. You’re strong so you survived. It’s how I know you’ll keep surviving long after this mess is cleared up,” said Beau. You raised your chin, meeting his green eyes. There was a gentleness about him you liked. Some men in this situation would be a tough guy, get overly protective. Yet he somehow was straddling that line between comforting and protecting with ease. 
You licked your lips, inhaling deeply. “Can you really take down another sheriff? One that’s been doing his job twenty years longer and has a lot more powerful friends than you?”
He pressed his lips into a thin line. “I’ll be honest. It’s not easy to get someone like that without blatantly obvious evidence of a crime. People turn on each other real quick in those situations though and I think we got that here.”
“What if the evidence would get those powerful friends in trouble too?” Beau parted his lips, a sad look settling into his skin. 
“When you woke up, you were scared of me because I was a cop. You thought I’d hurt you.”
“I called other cops for help. I thought I was safe with them. All they did was give me to my dad. As far as I’m concerned, they tried to kill me as much as he did.”
He nodded, taking a sip of beer. “Then we’ll get them too. I have to know, what is it that you found out or know that would make your dad try to kill you?”
You lowered your head and closed your eyes. “My phone is sitting in a train station locker. There’s videos on it. One of plans and papers and things. There’s copies of those papers in there. There’s a video too of my dad on the phone with someone discussing plans about moving drugs. He’s been selling seized ones out of evidence lock up. I told another cop, a family friend about it all. But he was in on it and then the two of them...they drove me far away from our town and thought they’d killed me. I have no idea how far this goes Beau but they will kill me and cover it up in a second. They didn’t hesitate to try and get rid of me. They want me dead and now.”
“Okay,” he said softly. “What’s going to happen is I’m going to send a pair of my very loyal officers to get that evidence while I get you into the station and officially put you in protective custody. Then-”
“Beau.” You stared him down as he sighed. “The more people I’m around, the more likely I am to wind up dead. Especially in a place full of people all wearing the same uniform.”
He was torn. He clearly wanted to bring you in but you weren’t going anywhere until he could guarantee it’d be safe and he clearly couldn’t right now.
“Then we stay here until we get word your dad and this other officer are in custody. But I need more details and a statement of what happened. Got it?”
“Whatever gets them behind bars is fine with me.”
You woke up in the middle of the night in Beau’s bed to him racing in the room. He was wearing a bulletproof sheriff’s vest with his name on it, his gun out by his side.
“What-”
He held a finger up to his lips, Beau pulling you out of bed in one swift motion. He tossed a pair of sneakers that were too small at you but you managed to cram your feet inside nevertheless. Silently, he opened the back window, keeping you right by his side. He slid out quickly, pausing only a beat before a hand appeared and you grabbed it, Beau pulling you through.
You were more noisy unfortunately and Beau instantly took off running into the woods with you before you could even turn your head to see who was around. After a few moments, he tugged you into the crook of a tree and pushed you down gently.
“Stay,” he whispered. You swallowed and stayed seated, Beau taking off with light footsteps. You covered your mouth when you realized how loudly you were breathing, body tense, waiting for something to happen.
Suddenly, a large noise erupted from the direction of Beau’s air streamer, a popping sound in the air. 
“Howdy sheriff,” said Beau loudly in the distance, a sharp edge to his voice. “I do mighty well appreciate you coming to my home in the dead of night like this. Going to make the conviction even more fun.”
Your dad didn’t say another word as you picked up on other footsteps in the woods, a flash of blue and red light scattering the treeline. You slowly stood, jumping when Beau rounded the tree.
“We got him and the other officer. Now, I distinctly recall telling you to stay down,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. You shrugged, Beau rolling his eyes with a smile. “You ready to go to the station now?”
“Yeah. I’m ready for this to be over with.”
“Sorry about the wait,” said Beau early the next morning. You’d fallen asleep on his small couch covered with an extra flannel he kept in his office, popping up when he walked in. He still had his vest on over his long sleeve, sleeves pushed up, and his hair appeared as if he’d run his hand through it only a million times. He walked over to his desk and sat against the edge of it, offering you a smile. “Well good news for you, they both tried to sell each other out and we have their full confessions. Neither one of them are getting out in their lifetimes.”
You closed your eyes and breathed deeply, letting a small smile form on your face. You nodded, slowly peeling your eyelids open, Beau looking you up and down. “Now what happens?”
“Now? You go back to the hospital and let them finish those tests, probably get in some kind of therapy for a bit and try to live the rest of your life. Easier said than done but I got faith in you, darlin’. You’ll be just fine.”
“I hope so,” you said. “I guess this means I should get out of your hair.”
He shook his head. “You were never in my hair, Y/N. Come on. I’ll give you a ride to the hospital.”
Two Months Later
“Well, well,” said Beau with a big smirk as he sat down next to you at the bar. “What are you doing in town?”
“Fresh start. I moved here officially. It’s peaceful when no one’s trying to kill you,” you said, Beau holding up two fingers and pointing at the beer you were drinking.
“I know about that. You doing okay?” he asked. You smiled and nodded, turning your body towards him.
“My therapist says I should try things to get me out of my comfort zone, rebuild confidence, that sort of thing.” You leaned in close and brushed your lips over his, pecking a soft, slow kiss on him. “You are super hot by the way and not because you saved me. You’re…kind. I like that. See, that’s normally something I never would have said or had the guts to do but-”
Beau cupped your cheek and pulled you back into the kiss, grinning hard throughout it, only letting you go when your drinks were set down.
“I like this therapist of yours,” he murmured. You grinned, Beau resting his elbow against the bar, putting his chin in his hand. “Give me your best pickup line.”
“My what?” you laughed.
“Your best pickup line. I need to see if our styles of humor are compatible, darlin’. Woo me,” he chuckled. You laughed and grabbed your beer bottle, taking a few steps away before spinning around and walking back over.
“You know handsome, I’d ask you to go to the movies with me but they don’t let you bring in snacks,” you said. He covered his hand with his mouth as he burst out laughing, keening forward in his seat as giggles wracked his body. “Thank you, thank you. I’ll be here all week.”
“Wow. That was awful. And you totally passed,” he laughed. 
“Your turn,” you said as you sat, Beau raising his eyebrows. “Oh you don’t get this just cause you saved me and you’re pretty. As you would say, woo me.”
He cleared his throat and put on smoky bedroom eyes, licking his lips. “You know what my shirt’s made out of? Boyfriend material.”
“Oh my god,” you groaned, laughing and slapping his thigh. “That was so lame!”
“Yeah but you laughed,” he said. 
“I guess that means you passed too,” you said, lifting your beer. He clinked his bottle against yours, smiling as he brought the rim to his lips. “Want to go for two or nothing?”
“Worst pick up line pays for dinner?” he grinned.
“You’re on, Arlen.”
_______
A/N: Want more Beau x reader fics? Let me know!
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avanatural · 2 years
Text
That Simple
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Summary: Beau goes to Y/N, a new friend of his, for some dating advice. Is the charming new Sheriff gonna get the date that he’s hoping for? 
Pairing: Beau Arlen x female Reader
Category: Fluff
Word count: 1.8k
Chapter warnings: None
A/N: This is my very first story about Beau. I hope you like it! Send me an ask if you want to get tagged in my future fics about him ❤️ 
Series Masterlist | Beau Arlen Masterlist | Part 2
Main Masterlist
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The bell above the door announced his arrival.
Beau looked around as he entered the hair salon, his eyes scanning the place for a certain someone. Once he spotted the familiar face he was searching for, a grin appeared on his mouth.  
Y/N looked up from her day planner, holding the phone in her hand as she spoke to a customer. Once she spotted the new Sheriff, she smiled, just like she always did when she saw him.
Beau Arlen was like a wizard who cast a spell on everyone around him. He spread his charm wherever he went, drawing people in without even realizing how hard he made them fall for him.
“Yeah… See you on Thursday.” Absentmindedly, Y/N ended the phone call.
Beau walked up to the counter. Up to her. “Hi there,” he drawled.
“Hey, Beau, what can I do for you?”  
“Actually…” The tall man leaned against the counter, his stance casual. His voice lowered as he breathed, “I have an emergency…”
“An emergency,” she repeated and touched the base of her neck, already wondering how she could fit another appointment in her schedule.
“Yeah.” He clicked his tongue. “I’m here for some advice, if you don’t mind.”
“Hm…,” Y/N hummed and crossed her arms over her chest. “That’s relieving.”
Beau moistened his lips, his tongue sliding slowly across his mouth. “Why’s that?”
“Because I wouldn’t wanna chop off any of that gorgeous hair.”
The skin around his eyes creased as he beamed at her. With dimples showing on his scruffy cheeks, he pointed his finger at her. “And you call me charming.”
“What can I say? I learned from the best,” she chuckled, “So, what’s the emergency?”
“Well…” He shifted on his feet and sighed, but the sparkle didn’t leave his eyes. “I wanna ask out this… Beautiful, kind, intelligent woman, you know?”
Y/N arched a teasing eyebrow. “Oh? That sounds like an emergency, alright.” Had the new Sheriff actually come to her for dating advice? “What’s holding you back?”
“I don’t know if she sees me that way… She’s kind of a mystery.” He hissed, dragging a breath of air into his mouth through his teeth. “And she seems way out of my league.”
“Beau… Listen to me.” Y/N leaned across the counter, inching closer to him as she supported herself on her forearms. “You’re a catch. Any woman would be lucky to have you. I say go for it. No grand gestures, just walk right up to her and go ‘Hey, you wanna go on a date?’”
He pinned her down with his intensely bright green eyes and cocked his head to the side. “That simple, huh?”
She blinked at him kindly. “That simple.”
“Alright.” Beau cleared his throat, as if to prepare himself, and tossed a wink in her direction. He then turned around and walked back to the door.
Y/N narrowed her eyes at him, close to laughing. He was so goofy sometimes. She was about to ask him where he was going, and if she should wish him luck, but he held up his pointer finger, signaling for her to pay attention.
Beau took a deep breath and pushed back his shoulders. Next, he moved his head from left to right as if to pop away the stiffness in his neck. He then gazed into one of the mirrors in the salon and adjusted his growing hair.
At this point, Y/N couldn’t stop the series of soft chuckles that escaped her lips.
Finally, Beau plastered a lopsided smirk on his face and walked back up to the counter. His bowlegs strolled forward casually as if he was stepping across a made-up catwalk. He leaned against the table, looked Y/N straight in the eye and said, “Hey, you wanna go on a date?”
The smile on Y/N’s face faded, quickly swapped for wonder. “Wh-“ Her head tilted to the side. “Are you practicing, or-“
He shook his head ‘no’ and gave her a genuine smile that made her heart hammer violently against her chest.
Astonished, she pointed a finger at herself. “I’m the mystery?” The smile returned to her lips, lighting up her entire face. “You wanna go out with me?”
He opened his arms widely, ready to offer himself to her. “If you’ll have me.”  
Her lashes fluttered against her cheeks with excitement. The grin on her face easily reached her eyes. “So, you think I’m beautiful, kind, and intelligent, huh?”
Beau placed his forearms on the counter, bent forward and slid closer to her. “Those are just a few of many good qualities, but yes.”
Y/N’s head lowered on its own accord as she smiled to herself.
“Oh, there it is!”, he exclaimed, pointing his finger at her face, “That gorgeous blush I’ve been waitin’ to see!”
“Beau!”, she scolded with flushed cheeks and slapped his shoulder. The two of them were attracting attention by now.
He laughed wholeheartedly and slid even closer across the counter. “What? I could make you blush all day.”
Her eyes narrowed at him. A coy smile tugged on her lips. “I bet you could.”
His brows wiggled like two happy dancers. “So… You wanna go on a date with the new Sheriff in town?”
About ready to burst with eagerness, Y/N reached across the counter and placed her hand on top of Beau’s. “I’d love to.”
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As their date came to an end, Beau walked Y/N to her door. He’d taken her to a fair a few towns over. They’d played games, gotten on rollercoaster rides, and she’d even managed to get him on the ferris wheel.
His warm hand on her lower back made the butterflies in her stomach go wild. He walked so close to her that she could smell his cologne. His scent was a mixture of old spice and vanilla. It was intoxicating.
“I had a great time tonight. Thank you, Beau,” she said once they reached her front door. She held on to the cute little teddy bear that he’d won for her. ‘So you don’t forget about little ol’ me’, he’d said as he’d handed her the stuffed animal. As if she could just forget him.
“So did I.” He paused, then wiped his brow. “I know I’m usually one talkative bastard, but… Tonight actually left me pretty speechless,” he chuckled.
Y/N suddenly realized that he still hadn’t removed his hand from her lower back. Having his arm around her waist made her feel like she was floating, her head in the clouds. “Yeah… Me, too.”
“Listen, uh…” His adam’s apple bobbed as he gulped. His brows knitted for a second. “I really like you, sweetheart. And I wanna keep this up.” His free hand gestured back and forth between their bodies. “But there’s somethin’ I gotta get off my chest.”
She studied his face closely. There was a hint of concern in his eyes, something she’d never spotted on him before. Her heart took a leap of worry, scared of being disappointed. “Okay, shoot.”
“So, I have a daughter…”
Y/N pursed her lips and nodded her head. “I know. You talk about her all the time.” She couldn’t even count the number of times that he’d mentioned his daughter since they’d gotten to know each other. It was endearing. He was a very loving man.
“Yeah…” Beau’s mouth curved into a fond smile. “She’s my pride and joy. The thing is…” He let go of Y/N’s back and shoved his hands into the pockets of his brown jacket. “Her and I, we sorta come as a package deal, you know.”
“I understand.” She placed her hand on his upper arm, giving him a gentle squeeze. “If things get serious between us… I’d feel honored to get to know her one day.”
Beau’s face loosened up and brightened with awe. His brow relaxed, and the corners of his mouth quirked up. “Wow. That simple, huh?” Honestly, he’d imagined that being a single dad would make getting back into the dating world more difficult.
“That simple.”
“So, can I book the next date right away, or…?”
Y/N chuckled, captivated by the light that shone in his eyes. “I’m free on Saturday.”
He did a graceful little bow and nodded his head. “Saturday, it is.”
She just couldn’t seem to lose her smile around him. He was good for her, she knew it. And he was in the process of stealing her heart, after just one date. Y/N chewed on her lower lip. She didn’t miss how Beau’s attention was drawn to her mouth.
“So…” She stepped closer, knocking the tips of her flats against his boots, feeling the heat radiating off of his body. “Are you gonna kiss me or not?”
“Been thinkin’ about it all night, darlin’.” His warm, apple green eyes bored into hers. His arm snaked around her waist. With a crooked smile, he pulled her flush against him. He lowered his head for the tip of his nose to bump against Y/N’s.
She giggled against his lips, anticipating their first kiss, and got up on her tiptoes to nuzzle her nose against his.  
Beau helped her out by tightening his grip on her waist. He kept her pressed up against him, his free hand coming up to caress her cheek. Affectionately, his thumb brushed against her cheekbone. Her skin was so soft. She was like a porcelain doll to him. So delicate and beautiful. A treasure.
When their eyes fell shut and their lips finally connected, sparks flew. Beau’s lips felt like soft, plump pillows as they molded against hers. His beard brushed against the skin around her lips. His kiss felt like a breath of fresh air during a heatwave.
Time seemed to stop around them as they exchanged gentle pecks of their lips. Beau’s hands remained on Y/N’s lower back and on her cheek. She was a perfect fit for his embrace. Her mouth tasted of cherry lipstick. If he could, he would have lived through this exact moment in a never-ending loop.
After they broke apart, the taste of her lipstick lingered on Beau’s lips. He wished he would be able to taste her forever. His enamored eyes roamed her facial features. Damn, he was one lucky guy. The sound of her laughter soon echoed through his ears, pulling him back to reality.
“What?”, he asked with a smile on his face.
“Come here,” she giggled. Y/N’s thumb found his lips and gently wiped away the lipstick stains on them.
Beau caught her hand in his and pressed an affectionate kiss to her fingers. “Thank you.”
“Anytime.”
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he vowed and gave her hand a squeeze.
Y/N responded with an encouraging nod. “Please do.”
Beau didn’t let her out of his sight as he stepped away. Their hands remained intertwined until the growing distance between them forced them to let go.
“Good night,” she said, already missing his warm touch. She could still feel the tingling sensation of his beard on her chin.
“G’night, darlin’. Sweet dreams.” He winked at her before finally turning around and walking back to his car.
A dreamy sigh came out of Y/N’s mouth.
Oh, she was going to have sweet dreams, indeed.
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Part 2
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sweetly-yours-and-mine · 11 months
Text
Bordeaux
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Pairing: Marc Spector x f!Reader
Word Count: 1.9k
Summary: She's not exactly sure why she's invited Marc to Bordeaux.
Warnings: mentions of the death of a loved one, written in two hours, poorly edited (author has BDE)
A/N: Couldn't get this idea out of my head ever since I watched Un Beau Matin. Any dialogue I used from the movie is bolded down below. English translations will be given at the end of the fic. French is not my native language, so please excuse any mistakes.
I don't own photos, dividers or characters.
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Élodie had invited her, once again, to the villa in Bordeaux. Had tempted her really, with the promise of sunshine and a warm, swimmable, ocean. Two things that were a rarity to come by in London, and a luxury spilled in abundance in the South of France. 
There was also room that would be left empty, Élodie had said, a friend of a friend had cancelled last minute (so much the better for everyone else, if you asked her sister), and if she wanted to, she could bring a friend. 
Friend, being a word heavily insinuated and laden with worries unsaid. 
A word that she bravely took at face value and approached Marc with the offer. 
Though it was easy to play oblivious to her sister’s intentions, it was less possible to ignore her own motivations. 
Why Marc?
At face value, it was because there was a loneliness in him that she felt was reflected in herself. Because he was the only person she dared call a ‘friend’, ever since moving to England and isolating herself on the little island. 
She liked to believe Marc was a friend. They went out for lunch almost every week and usually, Friday evenings, she’d come over and get a little tipsy on wine, tipsy enough that her words would slur and her well-practised English would slip and fall into her mother tongue. Once or twice a month they go and see a play or movie, or to the orchestra, with drinks before and dinner after. 
Those nights, the formal nights, Marc is partial to an all-black getup, a black dress shirt that he leaves unbuttoned, a black suit. It’s an image that alights a squiggly feeling inside of her, one a clumsy child’s hands would make with a broken blue crayon on paper. 
Other than that, sometimes Marc comes over for brunch on Sunday mornings, a concept he’d introduced her to and one that she’s come to grudgingly see the appeal in. He sips coffee with her and eats buttered toast and makes her laugh with crude little pequin peppers of jokes. 
But never, from either side of the conversation, has there been any hint towards inviting more people into their bubble. 
Her excuse is simple, she doesn’t know anyone else to invite. Everyone she knows is on the other side of the Channel. 
Marc’s excuse is not so obvious to her. She squints through the parchment papers of them, and can’t come up with a satisfactory answer. 
She wonders that maybe the reason why she hasn’t bothered herself to find more people she’d be able to call friends was because she was happy with Marc’s quiet companionship. His not-so-smiling-smiles, the way his eyes crinkle when he gives her a belly-laugh like a giant Ferroro Rocher ball, wrapped up in golden paper. 
She’s moved to England for almost a year now, and she’d only been lonely the first two months, before she ran into Marc in a coffee shop, tears in her eyes and ready to call this new chapter over before it was written. 
Sometimes, she tries to reason that it’s because he’s an American, a foreigner in a new continent. That his move was more intense than hers, and together, they found each other in the margins and happily decided to set up camp. 
His Americanness is also a blessing in disguise. The dreaded oral exams of her youth were always in a quite generic, American accent. When moving to London, she’d had a false sense of security that there would be a very short adaptation time to the English accents, since she could understand the unobstructed audio of the woman saying I like bananas very much. What is your favourite fruit? in her BAC listening exams. 
Coming home from work, her head is pounding from the struggle of trying to sort through the various inflections, tones, speeds of the seemingly infinite variations of a single accent. She feels betrayed by the French public education system. Nobody had prepared or warned her about this. 
When she talks to Marc, however, it’s easy to understand him. It relaxes the joints of her brain, soothes it over. It’s the reassurance that she’s not in fact stupid and incompetent, things her coworkers must surely think of her after she’s asked them for the fourth time to repeat themselves. 
She could also argue and say that she had already pushed away many of her own friends, heaping handfuls of time before her move. That the very reason why she changed countries was to start fresh, and that inviting her old university friends to the vacation would be awkward and heavily-charged with betrayal, a step back. 
Despite all this, she hasn’t been able to ignore the true reasons underneath her choice of Marc. 
Quite simply, she could have just said she had no one to invite over. 
It would have resulted in a decently heated exchange or two, about wasting her life, about using her youth to find someone to settle down with before she was too old for it. 
Not a pleasant experience for what should have been easy vacation, to kick back and destress. 
But at least she would have had an easy mind about her own choice.
Yet, looking at Marc now, playing with her niece, she’s not sure she regrets it; even if her mind has been plagued with the why of it ever since they arrived.
He’s letting her niece play with his cheeks, letting her hands push around an imaginary bubble of air in his mouth.
The two of them had been able to surpass the language barrier quite easily it seems. Though little Anaïs, at only five, had been sure to show him that she was quite well-versed in English by rattling off the alphabet and counting to twenty-five for him, the difficulties only starting from seventeen. 
Relaxed and sunkissed is a nice look on him. 
Laughter comes easier to him now, even if their jokes and stories are poorly translated and lose a lot of their mirth in English. The smile lines are deeper than the frowns, the delicate folds around his eyes like embroidery almost always present. 
In London, Marc combs back his hair meticulously. She’s seen him do it, grumbling and swearing under his breath when it doesn’t fall the way he likes it to. 
In Bordeaux, he lets it loose, free from the obligations of work and life and the fresh air and the saltwater bringing out the best of it. His short curls move as if they have a mind of their own. 
She longs to thread her fingers between them, to sink her teeth into the exposed, caramel-like freckled skin of his chest as if it were cotton candy and salt-water taffy. 
She had meant to be reading. 
The sight in front of her, the view of the ocean just a stone’s throw behind the two, was much more appealing at the moment. 
The glassed door opens and there’s the gentle swish of Élodie’s sandals, the faint thud of a tray of lemonade and wine hitting the table beside her. 
“T’as soif?” 
She shakes her head, murmurs her thanks. She’s the type of sleepy that comes from too much rest and sunshine. 
The hinges of the chair squeak as her sister sits down beside her. 
The moment before it happens, she knows it’s coming. They’ve barely had any time alone together since her arrival, and Marc’s presence had already raised quite a lot of eyebrows, undeterred by the fact that they had separate rooms. 
It’s the perfect moment for some older sister grilling. Everyone’s retreated to their own rooms, or to town to stock up on some groceries and alcohol. 
Marc doesn’t understand French, Anaïs too little, and too preoccupied, to understand what they’re truly saying. 
She tsks and sets down her book a tad too harshly on the table, “Putain, Élodie-”
“J’ai rien dit!” she holds her hands up in defence. 
At the sudden sound of an argument in the making, Marc looks at the two of them, a crease forming in his eyebrows that fades as soon as she smiles back at him. 
The momentary distraction gives Anaïs the executive power to decide that a change in pace would be nice, and she pounces on him from behind. 
Marc’s taken aback but then he laughs out, turning behind him, “You’re a bit of a monkey aren’t you!” They tumble together onto the ground, the girl’s excited giggles swirling up into the ocean air. 
The sight warms her heart in ways that his all-black look does, and she knows better than to dive into those emotions. 
“Il est beau, ce Marc, non?” Though the question is teasing, though she’s heard it multiple times from the people in the villa, there’s an undercurrent of sisterly concern and worry. Despite all the troubles Élodie gives her, it’s a sound that pricks tears from her eyes, reminds her just how homesick she’s been this past year. 
She takes an exasperated breath and picks up her book again, “J’en sais rien.”
There’s a heavy pause, almost as if it exists outside of Marc’s happy world. She’s never heard him giggle like that before, it twists at her stomach in unignorable ways. 
“Tu l’aimes?” 
She turns an unread page and hopes the thundering of her heart isn’t too loud. 
Her sister’s eyes soften, out of the corner of her eye she sees her head tilt towards her direction, “C’est son souvenir qui t’empêche?”
“Non,” she concedes and picks at her thumb, then thumbs the corner of her books, letting the pages run under her finger. 
“Alors, c’est quoi ton problème? Chérie, ça fait presque cinq ans depuis sa mort et t’es encore jeune,” she rolls her eyes at this, it’s the same excuse every time. “T’as le droit d’aimer, d’être aimée.”
When it’s clear that she won’t respond, Élodie continues, slyly, “Alors, tu t’en fous que Marie l’aime bien?”
It stings like a bee, her words. The images that arise in her mind against her will are like poison, homebrewed alcohol. 
She stings back, “Élodie, t'es pire que maman. Laisse-moi tranquille.”
That manages to shut off the conversation, though there’s a sour taste in her mouth that also hangs in the air between her and her sister. 
With a squeal, Anaïs runs towards her mother, a grin pressed into her cheeks, “Maman!”
Élodie takes her daughter in her arms, kisses her cheeks, “Bonjour mon ange, tu t'amusais bien?” The girl nods, hugging her back. “T’as soif, alors?”
Marc gets up from the ground, and brushes off the dirt from his shorts. There’s a groan as he tries to stand up, and he rubs his back soothingly to combat against it. 
She treasures the sound he made, the gentle frown in his face and the soft way it faded away with the pain in his back. “Are you thirsty, Marc?” she calls out to him. He comes to stand in front of her, and he nods, an open smile hanging around his face like morning dew. “Wine? Or lemonade?”
As she pours him some wine, her niece some lemonade, Steven looks at her from the wine bottle with a dumbfounded expression, his eyes dark and serious with grief. 
A glance at him makes Marc wonder what kinda stick his alter’s got up his ass now. 
But the wine is refreshing, and it brushes away any thoughts of Steven and of the heated words the sisters had exchanged as he was playing on the ground. 
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Thanks for reading, if you liked it, please consider leaving some feedback! I don't usually respond to, but I obsess and re-read reblogs and comments constantly. (Part 2 to this is looking enticing lemme tell you)
Masterlist here, requests here.
Translations:
T'as soif? - Are you thirsty?
Putain, Élodie - Fuck, Elodie
J'ai rien dit! - I didn't say anything!
Il est beau, ce Marc, non? - He's pretty, this Marc, isn't he?
J'en sais rien - I don't know what you're talking about.
Tu l'aimes? - Do you love him?
C’est son souvenir qui t’empêche? - Is it his memory that's stopping you?
Alors, c’est quoi ton problème? Chérie, ça fait presque cinq ans depuis sa mort et t’es encore jeune - So what's your problem? Sweetheart, it's been almost five years since his death, and you're still young,
T’as le droit d’aimer, d’être aimée - You have the right to love, to be loved.
Alors, tu t’en fous que Marie l’aime bien? - So, you don't care that Marie likes him?
Élodie, t'es pire que maman. Laisse-moi tranquille. - Elodie, you're worse than Mom. Leave me alone.
Bonjour mon ange, tu t'amusais bien? - Hello, my angel, were you having fun?
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callsignthirsty · 1 year
Note
Listen: cyclone and you have been dating forever but everytime he comes home ranting about Pete Mitchell and his idiotic decisions you can’t help but wonder what other idiotic decisions he would make in the bedroom. And because Beau what’s everything for his girl - he’s willing it make it happen.
Hey Sunny — Okay. So. The sailor sandwich fic. It’s finally here. I hope it’s everything your thirsty little heart wanted ❤️
Pairing: Beau "Cyclone" Simpson x F!Reader x Pete "Maverick" Mitchell Word Count: 6000 Warnings: Smut, possessive Cyclone, Mav following the rules, then Mav breaking the rules, piv with and without a condom (wrap it before you tap it!) Minors DNI
Sailor Sandwich
Iceman would be rolling over in his grave laughing if he knew, but Cyclone really hopes he doesn't. This is Ice's fault, anyway — bringing Maverick back to North Island when they both knew he was a shitty teacher the first time.
He'd hoped some tension would've eased once the mission was flown. That hope, however, had been quickly dashed. It wasn't anything against Maverick personally until it very suddenly was. Because Pete "Maverick" Mitchell was everything Iceman had promised he'd be, but in all the worst ways. And he hadn't strictly kept those thoughts to himself.
Cyclone has been complaining about Admiral Kazansky's pet pilot for weeks, and you have been there to listen every night when he gets home. Warlock should send you flowers because Cyclone knows that the Rear Admiral can only take so much, and he seems to have worked with Mitchell before.
And Jesus, Cyclone is getting a headache just thinking about this getting out to Warlock. Because Cyclone, to put it in the simplest terms, doesn't want this. But he hadn't been able to say 'no.'
The problem began where most of Cyclone's do: when he makes a very stupid, very avoidable mistake. The particular day's infraction? He forgot his lunch at home. And you — his darling girlfriend, love of his life, and perfect angel who has never done anything wrong, ever — decided to bring it to him. Typically, this would lead to a pleasant lunch in his office, a sweet kiss, and Cyclone would return to his day with a rare smile.
But, well, Maverick.
Now, Cyclone doesn't believe that Maverick knew you were his girl when he started hitting on you. Even Mitchell had a moral compass. And frankly, Cyclone can't blame him — except that he can and he absolutely will. Because when Cyclone arrives on the scene, Maverick is laying it on thick and has you practically wrapped around his little finger.
It had been an awkward night, to say the least, but Cyclone couldn't bring himself to deny you anything. Especially not when you asked so pretty and gave him that look. Which is precisely how he'd ended up booking three consecutive rooms at the Grand Hyatt with you sitting on the bed and Maverick knocking on the door.
Cyclone moves to stand between you and Maverick when the door shuts. "If we're going to do this–" and god help him because you were "–there are going to be rules." Maverick looks like he wants to roll his eyes, but he resists. Whether because he knows it's childish or for Cyclone's benefit is up for debate, and Cyclone chooses to focus his glare on him. "Number one: if she says 'stop' for any reason, you stop." Maverick nods. "Number two: You want to touch my girl–"
Without missing a beat, Maverick shoots you a cocky wink. "I think we can all agree that I'm here because she wants me to touch her."
"–you will do exactly as I say. No veering off-script."
"Should I submit my requests in writing, Admiral?"
Cyclone chooses to ignore him. "Number three: no kissing."
"At all?"
"C'mon, Beau," you say from your spot at the edge of the bed. "He's got to kiss me a little bit."
"Yeah, Beau."
"If you kiss her lips, you're done," Cyclone practically growls. There's no room for argument. No bargaining his way into more. Give Maverick an inch, and he'll steal a multimillion-dollar jet.
"Fine," Maverick agrees.
"And no marks."
"That rule number four?"
"No. It's a non-negotiable part of rule three."
"Hey." You stand from the bed, cup your boyfriend's cheek and give him a sweet kiss that's meant to calm, but Cyclone remains stiff as a board. "We won't do anything you aren't comfortable with."
Cyclone hesitates, and you clock the reaction just like you pin a name to the emotion swimming in green eyes: unease. Instead of telling you that he isn't comfortable with any of this, that you're his and he doesn't want to share, he says: "That's why we have rules."
Your eyes follow your boyfriend's as they once again land on Maverick, who is trying to act casual. Brushing your thumb over his cheekbone, you bring Beau's attention back to you. "Don't think about anyone else." Easier said than done, you know, so when he opens his mouth to object, you cut him off with a gentle "It's just you and me right now" as your eyes drift to linger on his lips. "Just do what you'd normally do."
And that sounds a little too much like the don't think, just do that Cyclone keeps hearing over the comms, but then your hands are in his regulation short hair, and you've tipped onto your toes for a kiss. Getting lost in your kiss is practically second nature at this point. Cyclone lets his mind go blank, hands that know your body better than his own landing on your lower back and gently pulling you in. He tilts his head to the side and slots his lips against your own, feeling the way that your smile curls and your breaths quicken.
And Maverick is being so uncharacteristically quiet that it's easy to forget that he's in the room. Until he clears his throat, and the illusion is shattered.
You eye Maverick, intrigued. From the way that Cyclone's hands clench, you hazard that his look is far more irritated. Maverick, though, looks hungry. Eyes rake over you, vintage bomber jacket hugging him in all the right ways, aviators tugging down the collar of his t-shirt. Just as you think that you wouldn't mind Mav having a taste, Cyclone lets you go. Your eyes follow him as he sits at the standard-issue desk near the foot of the bed.
"Permission to engage?" It's sarcastic but not unkind. You roll your eyes anyway.
Cyclone must be surprised, but the only thing that gives it away is the rise of a single brow. "Permission granted."
Maverick crosses the no man's land between the threshold and the bed in three quick steps, then he's all up in your space. And he's so different from your boyfriend, a mechanic-rough hand cupping the curve of your jaw and drawing you close enough that you're worried he's about to break a rule right off the bat — after all, Maverick isn't known to be a rule follower. He stops just short of your lips but breathing in your air. "Normally, this is the part where I'd kiss you," he husks, and you gulp because you definitely want him to. "But I think I'll see how far playing by the rules gets me."
Chapped lips brush over your cheek, down to your jaw, and you sigh. You moan at the light scrape of teeth as he trails down your neck to your collarbone, lips taking your skin with gentle pressure.
"Mitchell." A warning.
Maverick releases your collarbone with a wet noise. "No marks." He steps away from you and tips your jaw up so Cyclone can rake his eyes over you to assess any perceived damages. Anything that can be left behind. All the while, your skin grows cold where Maverick's spit lingers, the disappearance of his body heat leaving you chilled. When he gets a nod to continue, Maverick takes you by surprise. You fall onto the bed with a surprised squawk, bouncing on the mattress.
"Rule number 2," Cyclone snaps.
"I do what you say."
"Did I tell you to push her onto the bed?"
"No."
Cyclone's fingers steeple the way they usually do when he's agitated. "So what were you doing?"
Maverick's green eyes lock with yours, and his tongue peeks out to wet his lips. "Can't kiss her lips, so I was going to get my mouth on something else." You moan, a thrill racing up your spine and thighs clamping together to relieve some of the pressure that's building up there.
Cyclone's eyes harden, and he leans forward in his seat. "Exactly as I say. Are we clear?" Maverick nods. "Take off her shirt." Maverick shrugs out of his bomber, letting it crumple to the floor as he pushes your shirt up until it bunches in your armpits. "She's beautiful, isn't she?" Cyclone asks, but he doesn't expect a response. He knows you're beautiful. Maverick knows you're beautiful — that's what started this whole mess.
Maverick dips down like he wants to put his lips on all of your freshly revealed skin. "Can I–"
"No," Cyclone cuts him off. "Take off her shirt." Maverick pouts but complies. He lifts the shirt over your head with a bit of help from you, and now you can feel where he's beginning to fill out his jeans. "Now, her bra."
A single hand reaches around your back, and you feel your bra come undone. Maverick looks up at Cyclone, his hands carefully avoiding you though you can feel the heat radiating off him. Can feel his need to touch. "What now?"
"Touch her."
Maverick doesn't need to be told twice. His hands are on you. Running up and down your sides, thumbing over your nipples until they pebble, pressing kisses right above the waist of your jeans. You sigh into each new caress. Then his hands move further down, kneading at your jean-clad thighs and scratching at the sturdy cotton twill until you shiver at the faux-cool sensation.
He's propelled up at your gasp, lips finding their way up to your nipple as his hips settle against yours, and the friction of jean-on-jean lights your clit aflame.
"Pants." The instruction gives Maverick pause. He bites his lip like you wish you could.
"Hers or mine?"
Cyclone's lips twitch like he's pleased that Maverick asks. Like the simple question proves that Maverick is actually going to play nice, for once. Like he's the slightest bit reassured. "Hers." And when Maverick's fingers first brush embossed metal: "Slowly."
Going slow is as much torture for you as it is for Maverick, but he's staying true to his word and seeing how far following orders will get him. He plays with the pull of your zipper before dragging it down one tooth at a time. You bridge your hips to help him kick your pants onto the floor. Your panties, however, remain because Cyclone hadn't said anything about them one way or the other. They're cute, lace trimmed and delicate but nothing special; you don't want your boyfriend thinking that you've dressed up for the occasion. Special or not, Maverick appreciates them if his groan is anything to go by.
His head thunks against your hip bone. "What about her panties?"
"Leave them." So the lace stays. Clinging to your hips. Then Maverick looks up at you from between your legs, his eyes tracing from your lips (still red and puffy from Cyclone's kiss) down to the fabric stained dark at the apex of your thighs. He licks his lips as his stubbled cheek nuzzles against the inside of your knee. Calloused hands run up and down the outside of your legs.
"Aw, sweetheart," Maverick purrs. "Already so wet." You spread your legs shamelessly, not the slightest bit self-conscious about how Maverick and your boyfriend are both still wearing their clothes.
"Don't touch," Cyclone says when Maverick reaches up toward your core. Instead of taking it back, Maverick lets his hand hang there for a second like he's thinking about touching anyway. But then Maverick brings it down on your leg, massaging circles into the sensitive flesh of your upper thigh with his thumb to keep himself from doing anything reckless. "Make her feel good, but don't touch her pussy."
Maverick stands back to take his shirt off, undoes and takes off his belt but doesn't reach for the button or zipper as he toes off his shoes. Then he's between your thighs, fingers roaming up to play with the flimsy fabric of your panties and tickle high up on your thighs, but never coming close to scratching your itch. Lips and tongue tracing up from your knee almost to the seat of your panties and drawing in a deep breath, his heady groan sending little waves of pleasure straight to your pulsing cunt.
"What do you know," Cyclone muses after some time of watching Maverick flawlessly follow his orders, "you can teach an old dog new tricks." You aren't entirely sure whether or not Maverick heard him. Regardless, his head stays buried between your thighs, kissing and licking just shy of soaked lace and breathing in deep, a hand coming down to palm himself.
"Beau." His name is a whine on your lips as Maverick continues to rub the inside of your thighs raw on his cheeks while dutifully avoiding what you need the most.
"What, baby?"
You arch your back, trying to shove your hips closer to Maverick's roaming tongue, but to no avail. "Please."
"Please, what?"
"Let him touch me."
"He is touching you." And there's no way to hide all of the disdain that leaks into the simple fact as he glares at Maverick hunched between your thighs. But he relents. "Mitchell." Maverick sits up to look at Cyclone, his lips pink and breathing the slightest bit sped up. "I believe you said something about putting that mouth to work."
Maverick swallows, Adam's apple bobbing. "I did."
"Well," Cyclone gestures to the bed, to you, "get to it, then."
Maverick doesn't waste a second taking your underwear off, just thumbs it to the side and dives right in. You both groan from the first touch of Maverick's tongue to your slick folds. "Taste so good, sweetheart," he rumbles. Another desperate noise slips past your lips at the praise, your back bowing at the sudden, electric touch after so much teasing.
And Maverick is ravenous. You can feel it in the way his hands press your legs up and further apart so that he can sink his tongue further into your pussy, lick at your walls, and moan as his lashes flutter. The way his nose nudges against your clit until you're rolling against his lips with your head tossed back and hair spilled across the pillows. "That's it," he husks as you grind against his face, loving the dichotomy of smooth tongue and rough cheeks. You're on the cusp, your cunt buzzing with each new touch, but you need more. "Don't worry, sweetheart," Maverick murmurs, a hand releasing your hip and trailing down until a thick finger prods at your entrance and presses in, "I've gotcha." And he does because that's it. That's perfect. You press into his finger and his mouth, see the light at the end of the tunnel and feel your walls begin to squeeze down around him and–
"That's enough."
With a reluctant groan, Maverick releases you. He turns to say something but is hit with a box of assorted condoms. "Oh," Maverick says, looking at the box like he isn't entirely sure what he's expected to do with it. Like, aren't we a little old for this? He tries to return the box to Cyclone. "I'm clean."
"That is so not the point." There is abso-fucking-lutely no way in hell that Cyclone will let Maverick raw-dog his girlfriend.
Breaking the seal on the box, Maverick cards through the condoms. He kicks the rest of his clothes off as he rips one of the foils open and rolls it onto himself, spitting into his palm to slick over the latex and give himself a little relief. And you can't help but stare as the rest of him is revealed to you: all golden skin and well-hewn muscle from years in the cockpit. And for a small guy, he sure had a big cock.
"How are we doing this?" Forest green eyes are on you, but the question is undoubtedly for Cyclone — he's the one running the show.
"On her hands and knees," Cyclone says with certainty as if he'd already thought about it — about how missionary was too intimate and spooning was too soft. "I want her to look at me while you fuck her." Maverick rearranges you until you're on your knees. Bent over the bed, resting on your forearms with your ass in the air.
You can't help but look at Maverick over your shoulder, giving your ass a cheeky shake when you catch him staring, but Cyclone brings your attention back to himself with a gentle command — always so gentle with you. "Eyes on me, darling."
Then, he's giving Maverick the okay.
If given the time, you'd be able to go on and on about how Maverick's hands fit on your hips. But you're not. Maverick gives you a split second, then he's slowly sinking into you, and your mind blanks. "Fuck, sweets," he groans through gritted teeth. "So fucking tight 'n hot. No wonder Cyclone wanted to keep you all to himself." You moan helplessly at the stretch and his praise, eyes threatening to close as you fight to keep them locked on Beau. You aren't sure if you're burning from the desire or the shame of how much you like Maverick fucking into you while Beau watches, has been watching this whole time.
Eventually, Maverick's hips press snug to your ass. You can't help that your thighs quiver at the stretch, and your walls clench around him in sweet anticipation.
"Wait," Cyclone commands from his throne.
"Yeah," Maverick says, but it sounds like it's been punched out of him. Like he's a little breathless. Like you have as much of an effect on him as he has on you. "That's not going to be a problem." You clench down on him again — on purpose this time, just to be cheeky — and delight in the shiver that runs up Mav's legs.
Maverick leans down to kiss your shoulder, only to back away when Cyclone shoots him a look. His hands shift uncertainly at your sides, petting you and rubbing reassurances into your skin, fingers following his eyes to where you're joined and running a finger over your stretched pussy lips. Slowly, you begin to relax beneath him, Cyclone's eyes no longer boring into Maverick's and, instead, lingering on your face. And it's without looking at him that Cyclone finally gives Maverick permission for takeoff.
Except, Maverick still isn't really in control.
Yes, Maverick is inside of you. Stretching and filling you deliciously, but Cyclone is the one to set the pace. A slow in-and-out that serves to wind you both up more than it does satisfy the want that's been building in your loins. The odds were always stacked against him from the beginning. Maverick was bound to break eventually. And he does, spectacularly, when you shove against him with a high-pitched keen.
Sunkissed hips cant back, strong hands pulling you into the next thrust, each faster and firmer than the last. Maverick leans down, delivering a nip to the base of your neck that stings delectably. You rock with the motion of it, lips falling open as Maverick gets a couple glorious thrusts in that make your eyes roll before Cyclone seizes the reins once more.
"Mitchell." It's nearly a shout. Cyclone's hands white-knuckle the arms of the desk chair. Maverick's hips stutter to a stop as he gets ahold of himself.
You whimper beneath Maverick. You want to push back against him, desperate for stimulation. For someone to fuck you, to fill you. But, something in the clench of Cyclone's jaw tells you it's best to stay still.
"Since you can't do what you're told…." You watch, thighs trembling as Cyclone reaches down. You hadn't noticed the bag sitting in the shadow of the desk, but he's tossing something onto the bed. Cool metal lands on downy sheets. "Lie down," Cyclone directs at Maverick. His tone leaves no room for argument. "Hands above your head." You're not surprised when Maverick doesn't move and Cyclone's eyes simply shift to you. "Cuff him to the headboard."
"Wait," Maverick says, slipping from your warmth to sit on his heels as you take the cuffs in hand. "You're serious?"
"Rule number two," Cyclone recites, "you want to touch my girl, you do exactly as I say. What part of that didn't you understand, Captain?"
"The part where–"
"Because I think I was pretty clear."
"Is this another one of those laws as immutable as gravity?"
The muscle in Cyclone's jaw ticks. "Cuffs or leave. Your choice." Beau may be a pushover when it comes to you, but Cyclone isn't known to bluff. You watch the two of them with rapt curiosity and a growing discomfort as the tension builds to fill the room. Finally, Maverick caves and flops back onto the bed. When you turn to look, his hands are above his head.
You take the key from Cyclone's outstretched hand, then crawl up the bed to work the metal tight around Maverick's wrist before looping it around the corner beam of the sturdy wooden headboard and securing the second cuff. It doesn't look comfortable, but you can imagine that Maverick has been in tighter spots. Honestly, you're a little disappointed that the cuffs haven't been used on you, but there will be time for that later.
For the first time since he took his seat at the desk, Cyclone moves. He settles on the other side of the bed, leaning against the headboard so he can see your face, but he's purposely avoiding looking at Maverick. "Do you think you can ride him?" he asks. You nod with a pitiful noise, your cunt clenching around nothing and feeling empty just at the thought. "Alright." He nods for you to get to it.
You straddle Maverick's lap, run your hands up his chest and scrape your nails down, down, down until he's arching into the pain. Then, you line him up and sink onto him with a satisfied groan, head thrown back as your ass rests on his thighs. You grind against him for a minute, getting used to being on top and a feel for his cock so much deeper inside of you; then you rise up and let gravity bring you crashing down. Maverick moans, his cheeks flushing pink and mouth hanging open as you work up to a fast pace. Much faster than Cyclone had allowed your first time around. "Jesus– fuck," he curses. "Look so good bouncing on my cock, sweetheart."
More praise tumbles from his lips, and just when you can feel your orgasm growing low in your belly, hands grip your hips. You stutter out of sync.
When has Cyclone moved from the headboard?
Maverick's eyes blink open and settle curiously over your shoulder as Cyclone guides your hips in a much slower rhythm, one that has you whining in protest. This isn't nearly enough, but Cyclone knows that, and it's all that he'll let you have. "There you go, baby," he murmurs against the shell of your ear, and you wish he'd lick it, but he doesn't. "Nice and slow. Can you do that for me?"
You nod, gulping. Sure, you want Maverick, but you'll always want to be good for Beau. Even though everything in you screams to go fast, to chase that glorious high, you force yourself to move to the beat of Cyclone's drum, jolting each time Maverick strikes that spot inside of you that makes you see stars but knowing that you're not allowed to chase that feeling.
Cyclone's hands return to your hips more than once to slow you back down as you subconsciously begin to speed up.
"Beau," you whimper.
"What, baby?"
"I wanna cum." You can feel it simmering low in your gut, but it's still too far away. Too far out of your grasp. "I can't–"
"I know." He leans in and takes your earlobe between his teeth, and a shiver races up your spine. "'Cause only I can make you cum."
"But I need–"
Cyclone brushes your hair back so he can press a gentle kiss to the skin where your neck meets your jaw. "If you want to cum, it'll be on my dick. My tongue. My hand. Not his," he spits out the last bit without sparing Maverick so much as a glance.
Maverick opens his mouth to say something clever–
"If you want to cum, I suggest you keep it to yourself."
–and closes it with an impudent glare, but the effect is ruined by his exertion-pink cheeks and the clench of his jaw each time you take him to the root. Then, the next time you try to drop onto Maverick's cock, Cyclone's hands stop you. You look over your shoulder with a question on your lips, but his eyes are on Maverick.
"Fuck her."
Maverick doesn't. From the corner of your eye, you can see that he's just as confused as you. "What?"
"You heard me," Cyclone says, his hands increasing their grip on you until you're sure there will be bruises in the morning. "That's what you wanted, right?" And his tone is mean, but his words are true.
Maverick shifts beneath you to plant his feet against the pillowtop mattress and thrusts up. Gently at first. As if he's testing that Cyclone really means it, really wants him to fuck you. But Cyclone just holds you steadily above him. Then, because Cyclone has let him have full rein or because Maverick's a little too far gone to care, he lets out a needy moan and picks up a fast and dirty pace.
Your back arches, nails digging into Maverick's chest. "He's getting close, isn't he, baby?" Cyclone says, his forehead pressed to your sweat-slick temple as he holds you at just the right height for Maverick to hammer into you. Lets the Captain use you to chase his own pleasure.
"Don't talk about me," Maverick pants, "as if I'm not here."
But Cyclone ignores him. "You can feel it, can't you?" he continues in your ear. "How badly he wants to cum." Your thighs jiggle as Maverick increases his speed, his cock finding your sweet spot and slamming into it over and over until you're practically howling. "What do you want?"
You don't even have to think about it. Don't have the brainpower to think of much else right now. "Wanna cum."
"Not now," Cyclone snaps. "Not with him. He's just a pretty tool, baby. What do you want?" All that comes out the next time you open your mouth is a strung-out mewl. "Want Mitchell to cum so I can fuck you?"
"Yes," you hiss, clenching around Maverick's cock at Cyclone's words.
"Fuck!"
"Ask him nicely," Cyclone murmurs, his eyes sharp as he catches the hand that darts toward your clit.
"Mav, fuck. Cum for me. Please, please, please."
That's all it takes for Maverick to lose it. His thrusts grow sloppy, the cuffs rattling against the headboard as he flexes his arms and arches into you as he finally breaks, filling the condom with a strangled groan. His eyes closed and head thrown back as his hips stutter to a stop. He's oversensitive, jerking as your hips follow his to the bed.
Usually, you'd be more sympathetic, but Maverick had gotten off, and you still haven't.
He'd gotten you so close at the end, his hips pistoning into yours, pressing against your sweet spot each time, and then… nothing. Cyclone hadn't let you finish yourself off.
You don't have too much time to dwell on it.
Cyclone's grip on your hips changes. Maverick hisses as Cyclone snatches you off his sensitive, softening cock and bends you over so that your face is stuffed into Maverick's tits. Cyclone wastes no time ripping off his belt and pushing his slacks down far enough to get his dick out. Then, he's rutting into you with a sharp thrust that has you keening.
Maverick gasps and tries to jerk away, but you're pressed tight to him. Your middle rubbing against his overstimulated cock as Cyclone sets a brutal pace. One hand fisted in your hair and pulling back so your moans aren't caught against Maverick's chest. "Yeah, baby? That good?"
"Yes."
"Tell him." The hand releases your hair and instead presses down on your neck until your cheek is pressed into Maverick's chest as Cyclone's hips snap into yours. "Tell him how good I make you feel."
You do what you can to look up at Maverick with Cyclone's hand burning against the back of your neck. "'S so good. Fuck!" Cyclone smacks your ass with his free hand, and that's harder than he usually plays with you.
"Come on, darling. You can do better than that," he goads. Jaw clenched. Eyes sharp.
"Beau!" Your eyes are glassy as they meet Maverick's. "Fuck. So good."
"Looks like I've fucked the words out of her," Cyclone says, smug. "What's your excuse?"
Maverick doesn't have anything to say, possibly for the first time in his life. Brows bunching and drawing down to wrinkle his nose. His dick wasn't ready for this. For your face shoved into his chest. Moaning so sweetly in his face but just out of reach. If only he were younger, but he isn't — and though his dick twitches in a valiant effort to get hard again way too soon, everything about his current situation is too much.
Cyclone startles when you jerk away from a particularly rough thrust with a soft cry, your head turning to peek at him over your shoulder, tears collecting in the corner of your eyes. And he realizes that he's been gripping your hips way too hard, little half-moons marking the spots where his short nails had dug into your soft skin. What had he let himself slip into?
Beau pulls back gently and gathers you in his arms as he picks you up off Maverick and lays you down atop the cool sheets on the other side of the bed. On your back, this time, as he wipes away the tears that still threaten to fall from your lashes. He presses slow kisses into each angry mark framing your hips, then up to your neck. When his lips finally find yours, it's soft. The kiss tastes like love and an apology, and you can't help but melt into it as your fingers trace up Beau's arms and around his shoulders.
He stays poised over you, massaging your thighs and only abandoning his gentle kisses to pull his shirt over his head and kick off his slacks. Then, he asks if you're ready and, at your nod, pushes into you gently, capturing your lower lip between his own as you gasp. He knows that you're close — he's kept you there all night — but he lowers himself on top of you until your chests are pressed together, and you're sharing the same breath through your noses, lips brushing together and your heel tracing a line up the back of his leg.
Once he's dizzy from breathing you in and your heart flutters against his ribs, he moves. Your head tips back, so he mouths at your jaw, lets himself taste the salt on your skin, feels the breath as it escapes your lungs in a silent plea, and you tremble in his arms. He's kept you on the cusp for too long; he knows that. You're not going to last long, but that's okay. He doesn't need you to. He just needs you.
"Tell me what you need, princess." His earlier questions were bitten out, but this one washes over you like silk. Wraps around you and draws you further under his spell. Your head lolls, turns to the side, but before you can catch Maverick's eyes — which isn't your intent — Beau is turning you back to him with gentle fingers on your chin. "Eyes on me." He kisses your forehead. "I've got you."
You whimper. Needy and in love and so very far gone for this man who would give you the world if you asked. "Beau."
"I know." He licks at the corner of your lips, follows it up with a small kiss. "What do you need, baby?"
You need to cum, but you don't know how to put it into words, your thoughts loose and your tongue looser. So you settle on: "Please."
"Shh," Beau soothes. "I know what you need." He presses one last kiss to your lips before pushing up onto his forearms. "I'll take care of you." You mewl when he rolls his hips into the cradle of yours, still gentle but firm. Confident and caring and perfect. Moves like Maverick isn't in the room. Isn't still on the bed with his wrists bound and cock spent.
Your fingers scramble for purchase along Beau's back, nails pinching as you attempt to drag him in for another kiss, but he resists so he can look at your face. The way your heavy lids threaten to close as pleasure takes you and your lips twitch and your brows crinkle. "So good for me," Cyclone whispers like it's a secret he's letting you in on, and you shudder, goosebumps rising along your arms, nipples taught and tingling where he brushes against them with each sway of your bodies.
You reach your peak with Beau's name on your lips and he doesn't last much longer, pressing your mouths together with a grunt as he shudders through his own high.
You're still catching your breath, limbs pleasantly fuzzy, when Maverick speaks up to let you both know that he's losing feeling in his fingers. In response, Cyclone kisses your cheek and suggests that you go and get a shower started in your room. "I'll be there soon," he assures you as you grab your clothes and disappear through the door that adjoins this room to the room you and Beau will be sleeping in, careful to leave the door ajar for him.
You've just stepped beneath the spray when you hear the heavy adjoining door shut, followed by the rattle of the chain lock. Then, cold air rushes in to replace the steam that the bathroom door yawns away, and Beau joins you. He gathers you in his arms and hugs you close, your back to his front, and you relax into him. Together, you stand under the warm spray, unmoving until Beau squeezes some of the hotel's expensive shampoo into his palm and begins working it into your hair. It lathers as he runs his fingers over your scalp in a gentle massage that never fails to lull you into a half-sleep. Floating somewhere high and loved and not entirely in your own body. Once he's done, he slowly turns you, tips your head into the spray to get rid of the suds, then goes through the same process with the conditioner before he grabs a soft washcloth and runs it over you gently.
Before he can wrap his hands around you, you turn to hug him, your face pillowed against his collarbone and over his steadily beating heart. "You know I love you, right?" Because this shower isn't for you, it's reassurance. It's for Beau. He hesitates before bringing one of his arms to wrap around your shoulders, the other hanging low, weighed down by the wet washcloth as water cascades over you both.
You try to gather all your love for him and put it into your eyes. Because you need Beau to know that Maverick was fun, but he — Beau — is it for you.
"I know," he says softly, but it echoes off the tile anyway.
"And nothing will ever change that."
The kiss on your forehead feels like thank you as Beau hugs you the slightest bit tighter. Holding you close until your skin begins to prune.
That night, you fall asleep in the middle of a movie, Beau's shirt falling off your shoulder as you curl further into him beneath the luxurious hotel linens and draped in his love.
Maverick is the furthest thing from your mind.
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whiskeyswriting · 1 year
Text
How They Met: Cyclone x Venom
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Part of The Chaos Squad Fics | For: @cycbaby | Cover by: @callsign-dragonbaron
♪♫.ılılıll|̲̅̅●̲̅̅|̲̅̅=̲̅̅|̲̅̅●̲̅̅|llılılı.♫♪
They say things happen for a reason. Sometimes that reason is a chaotically effective naval instructor. After the uranium mission, Maverick stayed on as an instructor in Top Gun, much to the chagrin of Vice Admiral Simpson. 
Admiral Simpson would have to admit he was glad that Maverick had brought along a former student to keep him grounded, so to speak. He had yet to meet this former student that managed what nobody could. Not even Kazansky.
“Captain Mitchell… Brought you the reviewed mock reports that the students turned in,” his colleague Commander Robyn “Venom” Sullivan informed him.
“Thank you, V. Hey, do you have any plans for this weekend? Penny and I are planning a team-building BBQ for the new students, and from some of the Dagger Squad to come.”
“I’d love to go. Who else will be there?”
“A few of the Admirals… You know the Kazanskys, Hondo and his wife will be there. So will the Bradshaws and Garcia’s.”
Robyn thinks about it for a moment and then nods. “Sure, just let me know the time and what to bring.”
Mav smiles at his friend. “Just yourself and an empty stomach.”
Later at lunch that day, Mav ran into Cyclone. “Admiral. Penny and I want to have you over to meet the new team. It’ll be less dogfight football and more BBQ.”
Cyclone shakes his head and chuckles. “I still can’t believe your little game helped you and worked. When is the BBQ? I can make smoked ribs if you want also.”
While he still wasn’t very friendly and outgoing at Mav, after the uranium mission Cyclone did start to make more of an effort to get to know the Top Gun students in a more relaxed setting.
Mav agrees for Cyclone to bring the smoked ribs and asks if he could also bring some beers, to which Cyclone agrees.
The rest of the week passes by quickly and now the day of the BBQ is here. Penny had closed down the Hard Deck for the BBQ.
Robyn arrives first and is helping Penny set up the drink station outside. “If you ever quit the Navy, you’d make a great bartender and mixer,” Penny says.
“I only create these mixes for you Penny. I’m just in to for the free drinks,” Robyn teases.
“So that’s why you became my friend?” Penny asks teasingly in return.
“That’s why we all became your friends,” Mav says, hugging her from behind.
“That’s the kind of friends with benefits I’m looking for,” Robyn jokes.
Suddenly, a throat is being cleared behind her and the slightly older but still very attractive gentleman is trying to hide his smirk.
“Admiral! You made it! Well, since you’re here let me introduce you to my favorite former student and my right hand woman, Commander Robyn Sullivan. Call sign Venom.”
Robyn feels her cheeks flush slightly but she greets the Admiral.
“At ease Commander. I’m Admiral Beau Simpson. But you can call me Beau or by my call sign Cyclone,” the man says with just a hint of a rosy color to his cheeks.
Mav can’t believe his eyes and he turns to Penny who starts dragging him away before he can do any damage.
“Well Beau… What’s your poison?” Robyn asks as she starts to prepare him a drink. “You look like a bourbon kind of man.”
“Were you spying in my office drawers?” He teasingly asks with a wink.
“No… Admiral, I just know you already… Just from one look,” Venom replies as she hands him the Boulevardier she made for him. “Actually I did see a bottle one day when Mav and I went to drop off some files.”
Beau looks at her in confusion. “I would have recalled seeing you in my office.”
The air is crackling with the sexual tension between both of them. Venom admires and respects the man before her. He graduated top of his class, just like her. She’d be lying and blind if she said she didn’t think he was attractive. It was actually his age and how he carried himself that made him more attractive to her.
From his perspective, Cyclone has never met a woman that immediately grasped or understood his personality and way of flirting. He knew he was older than the woman before him but for the first time, he didn’t feel that hesitation that usually stopped him.
Beau starts drinking his drink while staring straight at Robyn’s eyes. “I can only assume you taste much better than this.”
Robyn feels the temperature rising and not just from the sun. “There’s only one way for you to find out… Admiral,” she says with a wink.
“How about we go for a drive once the BBQ is done?”
Venom leans in close to Cyclone, bringing her lips to his ear before giving it a little nip. “How about we drive to your office and get better acquainted there?” she whispers before leaning back.
Both their eyes never leave the others’ as more people arrive. When Beau spots an opportunity to leave early without detection he uses it to their advantage.
And so their passionate relationship starts. Beau will just never admit he’s thankful to Mav for introducing him to the love of his life.
♪♫.ılılıll|̲̅̅●̲̅̅|̲̅̅=̲̅̅|̲̅̅●̲̅̅|llılılı.♫♪
Chaos Squad: @cycbaby @callsign-dragonbaron @callsignscupcake @mtnofgrace @bayisdying @askmarinaandothers @persephonesportal @biehnybaby @mischief-siriusly-managed @breadsquash @callsignthirsty @likelyrowdy
🏷 List: @luckyladycreator2 @dxmerons @callmemana @ahopelessromanticwritersworld
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delilahdoesthings · 8 months
Text
Carly the Virgin
Read the full fic here
Like most situations Carly found herself in, this one was a complete accident.
Carly sat nervously in the waiting room, anxious for her name to be called. She was 23 years old and today would be her very first pap smear.
She sighed loudly. The woman two chairs over gave her a dirty look. Carly was not looking forward to this. She’d barely gotten any sleep last night, staying up late texting Beau plans for their second anniversary dinner in two weeks. Beau was planning a romantic candlelight dinner at his place and Carly couldn’t wait.
“Carly?” The medical assistant walked out. “The doctor will see you now.”
Carly followed her back into the exam room.
“Go ahead and change into this gown, the doctor will be by in just a moment.”
The door shut behind her, and Carly made quick work of changing. She sat on the table and closed her eyes just for a moment…
“Hi, Carly? Are you ready for your insemination?” Carly woke up with a start.
“What…yeah, sorry late night last night.” Carly yawned, and then frowned. “You aren’t Dr. Anderson.”
“Dr. Anderson is on her honeymoon, I’m covering for some of her patients.” The doctor explained. “My name is Dr. Puckett.”
“Oh okay.” Carly shrugged.
“Go ahead and lay back on the table, this will only take a minute.” Carly laid back, and true to Dr. Puckett’s word, the procedure was over just like that.
“Alright, you are all set. Go ahead and check back in a couple weeks.”
“Thank you, Dr. Puckett.” Carly said with a smile.
Two weeks later, Carly was on her way to work with her brother. Carly was a cocktail waitress at a local resort while her brother Spencer, who was an artist, doubled as a bartender.
“Anyway, so as I was saying.” Spencer said. “Socko bet me a hundred dollars I couldn’t do it but I did! It’s not my fault the light up sock tree sculpture caught on fire.”
Carly frowned. “Spencer, I don’t feel good.” Spencer put his hand to Carly’s forehead. “You don’t feel warm.”
“No like I’m gonna…” Carly’s eyes rolled back and she blacked out.
The next thing Carly knew, she was waking up in a room that felt too small, too cold. Spencer grabbed her hand. “Thank god you’re alright.” He said. “You’ve been out for a while.”
“What happened?”
“You passed out on the bus.” He said, pressing the call nurse button. The nurse came almost immediately.
“Welcome back to the land of the living.” The nurse joked, and handed Carly a cup. “We’re gonna need a sample from you in order to run some tests.”
“Okay.” Carly nodded. “Sounds fine.”
One hour later, a doctor walked in.
“Well, good news is we know what caused the fainting spell.” She said. “Congratulations, Carly. You’re pregnant.”
Carly burst into laughter. “No, no. I can’t be pregnant.” She said. “I’m a virgin.”
The doctor side-eyed Spencer. “Perhaps we should talk in private.”
“No, we don’t need to talk in private.” Carly insisted. “Maybe it’s a false positive!”
“False negatives are common. False positives are very rare.”
Carly began to hyperventilate. What was going on here? She knew she’d never had sex.
“Take a deep breath.” Spencer instructed. “Doctor, is there any possible way you could have mixed up the test results?”
“We label the samples as soon as we come into contact with them.” The doctor confirmed. “We can get you a list of resources, and I recommend making an appointment with an OB/GYN as soon as possible.”
“Oh I’m going to be making an appointment alright.” Carly said darkly as the doctor left the room. She pulled her phone from her purse.
“Hi, can I speak to Dr. Puckett? Oh, okay, can I leave a message…thank you….Hi, Dr. Puckett, it’s Carly Shay. I’m calling because I’m in the emergency room, and some doctor told me I’m pregnant, but that’s not possible. Please call me back as soon as you can. Thank you.” Carly hung up and put her face in her hands.
“You okay, Carls?” Spencer asked, placing one hand on his sister’s back.
“Do I look okay?” Carly snapped and immediately deflated. “I’m sorry. What is going on with me?! I can’t be pregnant, it’s not possible. Maybe I’m dying! Maybe I have some rare disease that-”
“Carly, enough.” Spencer said sternly. “We’ll get to the bottom of this. In the meantime, just try to relax. We can’t have you fainting again.”
“You’re right.” Carly pouted. “But when I get home I am definitely going to have another capri sun.”
Two hours later, Carly was sitting on her couch anxiously sipping her capri sun when Freddie walked in the door.
“Woah, that kind of day?” Freddie raised both his eyebrows.
“Don’t even get me started.” Carly rolled her eyes. “First I passed out on the bus, then I get to the hospital where some doctor lady tries to tell me I’m pregnant. Me. Pregnant!”
“But you’re a virgin!”
“Exactly!” Carly exclaimed. “Clearly there must be something seriously wrong with me.”
“Aaannnd I wouldn’t go that far.” Freddie shook his head. “There’s gotta be some explanation for this that doesn’t involve you literally dying.”  
“Hopefully Dr. Puckett will be able to sort this all out when I see her tomorrow.”
“Did you say Dr. Puckett?”
“Yeah, why?”
“That’s Pearl’s doctor. She just saw her a couple weeks ago.” Freddie said. “Huh. Weird coincidence.”
“Yeah, weird.” Carly shrugged.
The next day, Carly and Spencer were seated in Dr. Puckett’s office waiting for the doctor to join them.
“Thanks for coming with me.” Carly said. “I hope everything gets sorted out.”
“Me too.” Spencer said, squeezing her shoulder. “And quickly. I have a meeting with a mysterious millionaire benefactor whose commissions could make me super rich.”
Carly rolled her eyes just as Dr. Puckett walked in.
“Sorry to keep you waiting.” The doctor said. “Now, let’s get down to business.”
“Right. Well, I was on the way to work yesterday when I passed out on the bus. I got to the emergency room where some crazy doctor tried to tell me I’m pregnant! Which I can’t be, because I’ve never had sex.”
“Okay.” Dr. Puckett. “The reason you received a positive pregnancy test would be because I accidentally artificially inseminated you two weeks ago.”
“I’m sorry, what?” Carly was dumbfounded. “Are you kidding me? Like, is this an actual joke?!”
“I’m afraid not.” Dr. Puckett replied. “But I can give you a prescription for some pills, and it’ll be like it never happened.”
“Oh except it won’t be.” Carly exploded. “Because I am going to sue your pants off.”  
Spencer stood up and grabbed Carly by the arm. “Okay, time to go.” He paused and glared at Dr. Puckett. “You’ll be hearing from her lawyer.”
Carly made it two steps out of the building before she burst into tears.
“Hey, hey.” Spencer wrapped his sister in a hug. “It’s gonna be okay.”
“No, it’s not!” Carly wailed. “What am I going to tell Beau?!”
“I mean…” Spencer hesitated. “You don’t have to tell him.”
Carly pulled away. “Are you crazy? He’s my boyfriend! I have to tell him!”
“Okay, well definitely make sure you do it before you head over there tonight, preferably with at least an hour’s notice.”
Carly narrowed her eyes. “That was oddly specific and kind of weird.”
“What, me? Oddly specific and kind of weird? It’s like you don’t know me at all!”
“What are you hiding?” Carly asked, crossing her arms.
“What?! I’m hiding nothing!” Spencer lasted about three seconds. “Okay, so maybe Beau is kind of…possibly… planningtoproposeandinvitedeveryoneyouknowtocomecelebrate…?”
“Can you repeat that, but slower this time.”
Spencer sighed. “Beau is planning to propose and invited all your friends and family to come celebrate. He even got Dad to come in from out of town.”
Carly’s jaw dropped. “Beau’s planning to propose?! But we’ve only been together two years!”
“That was…not the reaction I thought you’d have.” Spencer said as they sat down at the bus stop. “Look, you have a bigger problem on your hands. What are you going to do about the baby?”
“Please don’t call it the baby.” Carly begged. “I’m still trying to wrap my head around all this. Why on earth would Beau think it was a good idea to propose?!”
“Uh, maybe because you guys have been together for two years and he loves you?”
“That means nothing!”
“Okay, Carly, I really think you need to cut down on the capri suns.”
One hour later, Carly entered Freddie’s apartment unannounced to see him sitting on his couch, his head in his hands.
“Woah what’s wrong with you?” Carly asked, momentarily distracted from her own situation. It kicked her in the gut to see Freddie sad.
“You know how I set some sperm aside from when I got my vasectomy, just in case I changed my mind?” Freddie said. “Well, turns out Pearl stole my sample and artificially inseminated herself to try and fix our relationship. She just got back from the doctor, she’s not pregnant. And now our relationship is over.”
“I’m so sorry. But what are the odds?.” Carly snorted. “Because I just got back from the doctor. She artificially inseminated me on accident and now I’m pregnant.”
“That sucks.” They sat in silence for a few moments.
“Hey, wait a minute.” Carly said, standing up with her hand on her chest. “Didn’t you say Dr. Puckett was Pearl’s doctor too?”
“Yeah…” Freddie said slowly.
“And this would have happened two weeks ago.”
“Where are you going with th- oh.” Freddie stood up, eyes wide.
“Now you get it.”
“Oh my god.” Freddie said. “I’m the father.”
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elvisabutler · 2 years
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when i'm 40 and you're 31 we'll get back together you'll see ( future austin butler x priscilla actress reader headcanons )
which is to say welcome to headcanons no one actually asked for but are for the fic one anon did ask for. i need some of this out of my brain, so welcome hello everyone who decided to read this. if you didn't it's okay this is really becoming self indulgent and a way for me to just acknowledge that paul newman and joanne woodward had an excellent couple vibe even when it was rough. i will take no further questions on that fact.
tw: honestly, maybe like mentions of cheating ( not actual cheating ), the normal daddy kink/age difference thing with me and pa! reader, drunkenness? truthfully i was rather tame on all of this.
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because consider the two of you never properly make up after you break up. sure, you go on the press tour for elvis and you're cordial. you play up some fake love for the camera and it works well enough. it stings for both of you but he has kaia now and you're- you're doing what you prefer, enjoying a partner who realizes that maybe you only need them for right now but you'll both be happy in the meantime. a serial monogamist, not a maneater, thank you very much. but hey your date for the premiere is pretty cute and you could see him lasting longer than a few months. maybe he's from home or maybe he's another up and coming actor. point is, he's easy and he's enough of a dom that he'll be fine.
consider that when oscar season rolls around austin and kaia are still together and you and your guy are too. no need to play up for the cameras but "oh y/n! austin! can we have a picture!" and you obilge because you're both nominated and what's the harm. a lot of harm in that he holds your waist so tight you're transported to your (his) bedroom and you physically recoil when the picture's done. you both win, of course, some other about how the last time the academy saw chemistry like this it was with the old school hollywood movie types. austin gets a little too tipsy and kaia and your date have to go home early because she's got a shoot and so does yours. you get stuck shepherding your lush drunk ex into an uber that you join him in because "austin robert butler you idiot." and he utters filth at you like you're still dating. he does not cheat on kaia and you do not cheat on your man that night but it's a near miss with "daddy would have given you an oscar baby to go with your oscar." that night is the last time you officially talk to him for 10 years.
consider! he keeps dating kaia for another year, shocking literally everyone but it's fine because she's sweet and you keep dating your beau for- well you keep dating him and dating him and when you first actually meet vanessa on the set of her movie that you happen to be a part of and you become friends she literally looks at you and your boyfriend and seems Concerned. you find out later when you're both at cochella a year later that "girl, don't be like me with the long relationship if you're not going through with it." you choose not to dwell on what ( who ) she means by that.
but consider you both keep track of each other's careers and maybe he sees you on broadway and the same is true for you seeing him. maybe you both get nominated for tonys that year. maybe one or both of you win. maybe you see him that night and it's been over six years and he's got some woman his age on his arm and you've got your saint of a man on yours and it shouldn't hurt but seeing his blue eyes just send a painful spasm to your heart.
maybe now it's ten years on and austin is engaged to be married but he keeps pushing off the wedding ( rumors say he's cheating on her or she's pregnant and doesn't want to ruin the dress, you pay more attention than you should ) but he's still engaged which is more than you can say for you and your boyfriend. "you know how embarrassing it is to just be known as your boyfriend? you know how many jokes they make about you gettIng your own austin butler to make up for the fact that he left you?" you leave him that night.
consider it's ten years on and he's 40 but still so handsome and god you could have had that if you just- if everything had just- if elvis and priscilla hadn't invaded your lives, if you hadn't been stuck inside isolating with nothing that could pull you two down. you don't dwell on it. you try to not dwell on it.
but also consider the fact that he might be a serial monogamist himself but he can't- your ring your copy of priscilla's ring is always in his place. stashed away so whoever he is with can't see it. he should get rid of it and maybe that will make him think he can take the plunge finally.
maybe there's a new project that vanessa ( who you've become good friends with and you're the godmother of her kid/kids ) is passing on but "you'd be perfect for it, y/n!" what you don't know is she tells the same thing to austin.
it's another baz film and honestly you miss the director enough that you figure it's worth a shot. see if the man wanted to cast you again.
consider that he sees you and his eyes light up, he's already cast austin and maybe he thinks you're the best on screen couple he's ever had the pleasure of directing. but still formalities and all and there's that pesky chemistry test and you both freeze eyes settling on each other's matching ( still matching ) dove necklaces.
but you're professionals and somehow you still have that chemistry. you're not on the floor, austin is this time which is such a role reversal you'd have laughed about it in another life. all it does in this one is make you want to touch him and call him daddy like nothing had changed.
baz tells you that you've got the part before you've left the room. it's opposite austin and maybe he leaves the room first. this time you follow him and hold his wrist and when he says "i've got to go" you tap once.
"i like the little bit of grey, mr. butler. shame you're not a brunette right now. can't make a proper salt and pepper joke." "you don't look a day over 25, lil- guess i can't call you lil dove any more can i?" "maybe i wish you would, daddy."
consider you don't fall right into bed because you're older now and you've got to talk this time. but the kiss he gives you when you call him daddy like that offhandedly like time hadn't passed? that makes you almost throw caution to the wind and do it anyway. after all you can't have something like this go wrong twice in one lifetime.
consider. no it just means you get to deal with a completely separate mess this second go around.
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luvsherleafs · 2 years
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A New Us
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This is for the oh, so patient @slapshot-to-the-heart for the Summer Fic Exchange 2k22. When I was asked to pinch hit a second fic for the exchange, I have to admit to some nerves and then this flowed out. Kay, I may have bruised him, but I did not break him! Hope you enjoy! @antoineroussel thanks for organizing this lovely exchange yet again.
Returning to Colorado reminds Ally of why she loved it there.  The scenery is breathtaking with snow dusting the mountains as the sun sparkles.  She knew it would smell different from how snow smelled in New York - somehow fresher and cleaner.  Of course, nothing smelled fresh in New York, nor was it ever sparkling and bright with snow.  She sighed, knowing she had to stop before she broke her own heart again.
It hadn't been her choice to leave - well not really.  The choice had become self apparent when she'd seen the pictures of her boyfriend on a road trip with his team, another girl wrapped around him and lips locked.  Brand new job in the same town as him was nothing compared to a surprise opportunity on the other side of the country.  She had packed her bags and relocated in less than forty-eight hours.
Ally shook her head as the “Buckle Your Seatbelt” sign came on and she prepared for landing.  No point going down that road again. It was all water under the bridge.  The next few days were about to get very busy and may possibly involve seeing her ex for the first time since you left.
"We'll try to run as much interference as we can.  The guys are all going to make sure you're not alone at the rink," Mat squeezed her hand reassuringly. 
"That's not really necessary, Mat.  I'm a big girl and will be fine. He's also one of your best friends.  Please don't avoid him because of me or even bring me up," she begged him.
“He may be, but you are my friend and roommate. I'll be seeing him tonight at dinner and I'm sure you are going to be a topic." Ally glared at him. 
 "He's going to ask about you," he stated confidently. 
"It'll be okay Ally, I promise," Mat said, when he saw her face drop. 
She nods as he hands her her bag from the overhead storage, letting her move in front of him to exit the plane and head to the waiting buses that would take them to the hotel.  Once they got there, she was scheduled for a few treatment sessions with some of the players, before the evening was hers.  She had made arrangements to meet some friends, knowing she couldn’t ignore the ones who hadn’t hurt her and been nothing but supportive and understanding when she left.
Beau whistled when he saw Ally come off the elevator, causing her to roll her eyes. She was dressed in a simple pair of dress pants, with a nice shirt under a jacket and some low heeled boots - nothing fancy. Maybe she had spent some extra time doing her hair up in a messy updo and her makeup was on point.  Didn’t mean that it was whistle worthy.
“Bud, you need a girlfriend,” she chirped him.
“You look great, Ally,” Beau said in response.  “I’m sure if he was to see you, he would realize what an idiot he was to let you get away.”
“Guess it’s a good thing I’m not gonna see him,” she responded.  “Have fun tonight and keep Mat out of trouble.”  Ally waved as she got into the uber to take her to the agreed upon restaurant.  
As she drove through the snowy streets, her mind turned back to when this was an everyday drive for her, before things had gone so wrong.
******
Ally had met Tyson when she was interning with the Avalanche training department.  The last year of her program came with a hands-on component and she had won the coveted spot with the Avs over the ten guys in her class that had wanted it.  There had been no one more surprised than her when she got the call offering her the position.  It had helped her case that she had worked with the Canadian women's program at the Worlds the summer before. 
That first day, the head trainer had asked Cale to give her a tour, knowing she was from Calgary just like he was.  The two of them were laughing about something they had in common, when he brought Ally into the dressing room to end the tour.  Heads had turned at the laughter.  Gabe immediately came over to introduce himself as captain, welcoming Ally to the Avs family.  He then advised her to make friends with EJ because she would be seeing him more than anyone which caused a lot of laughter.  
And Ally had gotten to know all of them, whether they needed special taping, special stretching before games, just a chat to calm nerves or to administer first aid during games.  Gabe had been right, she spent a lot of time with EJ, getting him ready for games or dealing with aches and bruises after.  EJ took her under his wing, being super protective of her, filling the big brother role in her life.  It was a wonder that Tyson had worked up the nerve to start up a conversation one night when they were all out after a game.  From there, it was talks during game prep, chats when they were on the road and she was in Denver finishing her classes.  It was just before Christmas when he asked her out on a date - just the two of them, no teammates around.
Becoming a couple had just evolved from there.  Late night facetimes while he was on the road and she were completing an assignment for class, texts and coffee dates, nights watching movies or out celebrating wins after games, they had become a couple.  Ally had thought they were exclusive, Tyson having said and done all the right things to give her that impression.  But when she was completing her last interview with the Eagles, the Avalanche farm team, for a position that would keep her in the Denver area after graduation, Ally started receiving a ton of notifications on her phone.  At first she thought someone was hurt, but the message from Mel scared her - don’t open your instagram.  And like an idiot, Ally opened her instagram and couldn’t believe what she saw - Tyson kissing some girl that wasn’t her.  Checking the tags, Ally saw the girl had purposely tagged Ally and Tyson.  And as Ally was trying to comprehend what was on her screen, her phone started ringing - EJ’s pic crossing the screen.
“Did you know?” Ally asked, not even bothering with hello.
“Know what?”  EJ asked, confused.
“Did you know he’s cheating on me?” she whispered.  
“What are you talking about?” EJ demanded.  She told him to check insta and he’d see.  He assured her he knew nothing and would get to the bottom of it and call her back.  As he disconnected the call, the picture was again on the screen.   
The next name that flashed across Ally’s screen was Tyson, and she swiped to ignore his call as she felt a tear slide down her cheek.  Her mind was racing when she saw a text from Mat Barzal flash in her notifications, and the “need a job” caught her attention.
After she read the message, she called him, asking if he was for real.  He explained that one of their training staff had to take an extended leave of absence, and if Ally wanted to apply, he would put in a good word for her as they needed someone immediately.  She had interviewed via zoom within hours, arranged to finish her coursework online, advised the Avs she was leaving for a full time position and was on a plane to New York thirty-six hours later, having turned down the offer from the Eagles when it came.  
Mat picked her up at the airport, and insisted that his spare room was hers until she knew how long she was staying.  And over a welcome glass of wine with dinner, he had asked if Ally had spoken to Tyson at all.  
“No, there doesn’t seem like there is anything to say,” she replied softly.  “What is he going to say that would make that better?”  Mat let the topic slide and didn’t bring it up to her again.  
When the season ended in New York, Ally’s contract was extended into the next season, pending the health of the therapist she was covering for. And that is how, in late November she was flying back to Denver with the Islanders for the first western road trip since joining them - and the first time she would be seeing her ex.
*******
Walking into one of EJ’s favorite restaurants brought back happy memories of good times spent with friends.  Ally was just asking the concierge if her party was there when she saw EJ waving at her.  Laughing, she made her way towards the table in the back.  
“Give me a hug,” EJ demanded, wrapping his arms around her.  “You look fabulous,” he whispered in Ally’s ear, before letting go and taking her coat to hang it up for her.  Then it was Gabe and Mel who hugged her, before Cale pulled out a chair for Ally to sit in, him dropping a kiss on her temple telling her he’d missed her.  The two of them had hung out a little when they were in Calgary for a few weeks the previous summer, keeping up their friendship via text, facetimes and a snap streak now over a hundred and thirty-five days strong.
There was a lot of laughter at the table, as stories flew between everyone.  Pictures of babies and horses were shown, Ally laughing when Nate gloated that his namesake was better than Gabe’s.  EJ assured her when he found a sweet little filly, she would have her own horse to cheer, bringing laughter from everyone.  
Ally was coming back from the washroom with Mel, when she noticed some new arrivals at the table.  As Mat saw Ally, he mouthed “I’m sorry”, and she nodded it was okay, just as Gabe said, “Tyson, maybe you should leave.”
“Gabe, it’s okay,” Ally assured him, coming back to the table.  “I’m sure if the guys want to join us, we can have a few more chairs added.” She smiled at JT.  “And if breaking bread with the second best Compher is how my night goes, it won’t be half bad.”  
JT came and gave her a hug, whispering in her ear, “We can go somewhere else if you’re uncomfortable.”  
Ally shook her head and assured him it was fine and asked him louder so the rest could hear how Jesse was and how she had been able to catch one of her games when in Boston.  As JT took his seat beside Tyson, Ally finally looked at her ex, and was surprised at how sad he looked as he nodded hello.  
Conversation was a little stilted at first, but as Ally continued to ask them all questions, which led to other stories, the tension decreased.  She never spoke directly to Tyson, but felt him watching her most of the night from his position across the table and to her right.  
"Ally, did you miss your graduation?" JT asked her at one point.
"I sure did," Ally laughed. "Not sure my mom is ever going to forgive me for not walking across that stage, but my dad keeps reminding her I have a great job in my field and we were in the conference finals - so I was kinda busy." Everyone laughed at that.
"Hey, we got you flowers and made you walk across the dressing room in honor of it," Mat teased.
"You did and then demanded I deal with a cut on your pretty face," she chirped him.
"I miss when she roasted us for being idiots," EJ sighed with fondness.  “Remember when…” and as he relayed the story which had Mat and Beau laughing by the end of it with everyone else.
As the evening drew to a close, Ally went to the washroom knowing the cold air outside would trigger needing to pee.  As she came out, she almost walked right into Tyson who seemed to be waiting for her.  Stopping, she waited for him to speak.
“I know I probably don’t deserve any of your time, but I would really like to talk with you,” Tyson watched Ally’s face to see her reaction.  
Many things were running through her mind, but the one that persisted was that she missed him.  Even after what happened, she missed Tyson.  And maybe she was ready for some answers.  
Ally nodded.  “I think that might be a good idea,” she answered.  
Tyson looked relieved.  
“We can meet in the bar at the hotel,” she suggested.  He nodded and said he’d meet her there.  The two of them headed back to the table, pretending not to notice the concerned looks on the faces of their friends.  She smiled at them to reassure them that she were fine,  
After goodbye hugs, and promises to stay in touch, Ally told Mel she would try to sneak down to the family room to get some cuddles with the kids before the game as she gave her one last hug before leaving.
As EJ drove through the streets of Denver heading to the Ally’s hotel, she waited for him to speak.  She knew he was concerned about her after having seen Tyson.
"It wasn't what you thought, " EJ said, which was not what she was expecting.   "The young ones had gone out after dinner and were ambushed by a group of girls and that girl set up the whole thing." 
He turned to look at Ally as he stopped for a red light and wasn't surprised at the shock on her face. 
"By the time I got to the bottom of it, you were gone and Tyson told us to let you go."
She blinked, trying to wrap her mind around the information.  If he was innocent, why hadn't he fought harder to make her understand?  What had she done?  Ally swiped at the tear that rolled down her cheek.
"Hey," EJ said as he pulled up in front of the hotelt.  "You didn't know and it looked exactly how she wanted you to see it."
"I never gave him a chance to defend himself, " Ally whispered.  "He must hate me."
"Quite the opposite actually, " EJ states.  "Ally, we all know how much grief our girlfriends have to put up with being with us.  You both were so new as a couple, add on your career was involved and your reaction was exactly what others would have had."
"Doesn't make it right."
"Maybe, but he didn't try that hard to change your mind at the time either." He paused before continuing.  "Maybe now you're both ready to have that conversation without all the immediate hurt feelings from when it happened."
"I guess I'm going to find out," she said softly.  
Ally gave EJ a hug, thanking him for the ride and fun night. After waving as she got to the door, she entered the lobby and made her way to the bar, seeing Tyson sitting in a booth in the back.  She also noticed a few of her teammates eyeing him with a little hostility.  Sighing, she went over to them to head them off at the pass.
"Gentlemen," Ally greeted them.  "Stop with the intimidation.  I invited him." While not exactly true, they didn't need to know that. 
"We're going to be watching and if he makes you cry, all bets are off," Casey advised her solemnly. 
She rolled her eyes at him.  "If I need help I will send out a bat signal, I promise," she patted him on the hand before walking towards where Tyson was standing beside the table waiting. 
"We can go somewhere else if you want if they make you uncomfortable."
"It’s okay," Tyson assured Ally, taking his seat after she had taken hers.  "It’s nice to know they look out for you," he smiled.
"They can be worse than EJ," she groaned. 
They both ordered a drink when the waitress came over. Tyson answering Ally on how his family was until their order was delivered.  Ally fidgeted with her glass as she waited for Tyson to speak.
“Do you like New York?” was not the question she thought he would lead with.
“It’s different.  And busy.  But it doesn’t feel like home,” Ally answered honestly.  “Don’t get me wrong, they’ve been more than welcoming, and Mat has been a great friend, but I don’t think I’m a New York kind of girl to be honest.”  He nodded his head.
“I’m glad Mat was there for you,” Tyson nodded.  There was a pause, while she saw him gather his thoughts, staring at his glass.
“I miss you,” Tyson looked up at her. 
“And I should have fought to make you understand.  I should have fought to talk to you and explain that it wasn’t what you thought,” he shook his head.  
“I would never have cheated on you, Ally.  And I know that picture made it look like I did, but I was so surprised when she just kissed me, I didn’t react the right way.  I didn’t even know there was a picture until she tagged us in it and by the time I realized what she had done and tried to get her to take it down,” he paused.
“I wouldn’t answer your calls and then I was gone when you got back home,” Ally finished for him.  “It was my worst fear - you realizing I wasn’t enough.  And when I saw that picture, it just seemed to prove the point.”
He reached for her hand, squeezing it.  “I never thought I was good enough for you.  You are so smart and I’m just a guy who plays hockey - I thought I was the luckiest guy in the world when you agreed to go on that first date.  You were too good for me, not the other way around."
"I'm so sorry I didn't give you… US, a chance to overcome this.  That's on me," Ally sighed as she squeezed his hand. 
"And I miss you, too," Ally admitted softly. 
"I went on a date last week," Tyson shared.  
Ally wasn't sure what to say, before Tyson continued.  
"Ashley set us up.  I didn’t want to go, but I thought maybe it would help me forget you, so I agreed.  She was nice enough, but I spent the night comparing her to you - and felt horrible the whole time I was doing it." 
"Tyson," you weren’t sure where this was going.  
"I don't know how to get over you," Tyson looked haunted.   "And I don’t know if I'm ready to give up on the idea of us." 
Ally must have looked shocked. Let's be real, she was shocked and her brain had stopped working at the same time her heart had given a little jump of joy.
"Tyson, I live on the other coast.  My job is there.  We couldn't make this work when we were in the same city.  What makes you think long distance would be different? "
"Honestly,  I don't know if it would be.  But I'm not ready for you to not be in my life.  These past six months have been the worst six months of my life.  So maybe we try being friends like we were, and see where it goes." 
He looked so hopeful and earnest in his request.  Could they try being friends?  They had been friends before, could they be again?  Did he think they could  start at the beginning with everything that had happened?  And how could Ally reconcile what she knows now with how she reacted?  Would Tyson be able to forgive how she reacted?  Just abandoning their relationship and leaving without even discussing it?
Ally made a decision, grabbing her phone from her purse, Tyson watching her carefully.  She opened her contacts and scrolled to Tyson’s and unblocked him.  Then did the same on instagram and snapchat.
"I think we can try being friends," Ally smiled at him.  "But full disclosure, Cale and I have a ridiculous snap streak going and you cannot interfere," she warned jokingly. 
"We'll have to start one of our own," he laughed.  
*******
Ally’s days were busy - there was a lot to do for the training staff to keep their team in peak form during the season.  Managing injuries, aches and strains for twenty-three men who were sometimes babies when they were hurt was time consuming.   But she loved the work.  The travel was different and she had to adjust treatments to fit travel schedules which could get inventive.
Tyson having the same kind of crazy schedule made communication a little easier strangely.   There were times where they could have a whole series of texts and other times where it was hours between messages.   It was after a particularly rough game, where Tyson got hit in the face by a puck that Ally actually sent a facetime request.  She wanted to see for herself that he was doing okay.  From then, it went from a few times a week to pretty much every day.
It's funny how when the everyday pressures of presenting the outward appearance of a couple was removed, that they realized how much they both had in common.  When the only option is to have conversations it is easier to learn a lot about someone.  The sharing of hopes and fears, goals and dreams.  There were days where one of them was frustrated and the other would talk them off the ledge.  When something great happened there was someone to share with.  
Ally was working with Casey, stretching out his knee when Mat came flying into the treatment room with his phone in his hand.  She glanced up and immediately asked, “What’s wrong?”
“Tyson got traded to Minnesota,” Mat watched as her eyes widened in surprise.
“Shit,” Casey muttered.
“Wow,” Ally blinked, stretching Casey’s leg back out.  “Tyson didn’t say anything about being on the trading block.  Although his name does always pop up.”  
She shook her head.  “Where is Minnesota right now?”
Mat typed and raised his head before answering.  “They are at home on a homestand, but the Avs are in California.”
“I’m sure his Mom will go pack his apartment to move him,” she assured Mat.  “He at least has a few suits and stuff with him because they just flew out to Cali for a week.”
Ally didn’t expect to hear from Tyson any time soon with him having to get from Cali to Minny, and then meet his new team.  She’d sent him a message to assure him he was going to be fine.  She knew how much he loved being an Av, but maybe a change of scenery would do him good.
After work she ran errands on the way home, telling Mat she would pick up stuff to make dinner as they both had the night off and neither of them had plans.  She was supervising Mat dicing the veggies for the stir fry when her phone started ringing, Tyson’s name on the screen.  Ally grabbed it, shushing Mat.
“Hey, how are you?” she asked.
“I don’t even know how to answer that,” Tyson said with a sigh.  “I wasn’t expecting it at all,” he trailed off.  
Ally glanced at Mat, and saw him motioning for her to put it on speaker.
“Mat wants to join our conversation, so I’m gonna put you on speaker,” she told Tyson, making it happen.  
“It’s going to be okay, Tyson.  Are you in Minny yet?”
“I’m waiting for my connecting flight now.”
“I know it sucks right now, Bud, but you’re gonna kill it there,” Mat encouraged.  “Is Mom gonna be able to help you get your stuff from Denver?”
“Yeah, she’s gonna fly in tomorrow and pack it and ship most of it.  Then she’s gonna fly here with more clothes and stuff,” Tyson responded.  “I don’t even know where I’m gonna live.”
“Tyson, you just need to get there and concentrate on hockey.  They will help you find a place to stay,” Ally assured him.  “You’ll be in a hotel or one of the guys will offer you a place until you find your own.  You need to control what you can, and just roll with the rest."
“You know Jordie at least,” Mat added.
“You have all the stuff you need to take care of your jaw?” Ally asked.  Mat snorted.  “Hey, that’s my area of expertise, so gotta make sure he’s taking care of the injury during this chaos.”
“Yeah, their training staff has already reached out, and the Avs sent my medical stuff.  Guess getting thrown in during a home stand is better than the beginning of a road trip.” Tyson paused, before continuing.  “They’re calling my flight.”
“Let us know when you get there,” Ally asked.  
“And if you need anything, just let us know.  We’re here,” Mat said.  “You’re gonna kill it!”
“Thanks,” Tyson snorted.  “Ally, can I speak to you alone for a sec?” Tyson asked.  Mat waved Ally out of the kitchen, saying he would not touch anything until she came back.
“Hey, what’s up?” Ally asked softly as she walked into her room.
“It’s all such a whirlwind, that I didn’t even get to say goodbye to the guys before rushing to the airport.  They’ve been texting, but I don’t know what to say,” he said with a catch in his voice.
“Ty, you’re allowed to be upset.  And there is so much to do that they will understand if you don’t answer right away.  But answer JT, because I’m sure he’s upset he didn’t get to say goodbye.  He can update the others until you can.”
“I wish you were here,” Tyson whispered.
Ally closed her eyes, deep down wishing she was there too.
“You’ve got this Tyson,” she responded.  “And I wish I was there too.”
After hanging up, Ally sat on her bed, thinking.  There was no actual reason for her to stay in New York.  The person she had been covering for was fully back and up to speed, and the team had kept her on, but she wasn’t really needed there.  
She didn’t notice Mat standing in the door.  He watched as she worked through whatever it was that was bothering her, before he finally spoke.
“Want me to look up flights to MInnesota?” he asked her, with a soft smile.
“Am I crazy to even be considering this?” Ally asked.  “What if I just make it worse for him?  I don’t want him worrying about me, but how do I reconcile that with worrying about him?”
“Follow what your heart is telling you to do,” Mat sat beside her, pulling her in for a hug.  “When you arrived here, I was so worried about you.  You were so broken and even when I knew that what you thought had happened didn’t, Ty wouldn’t let me tell you.  But since we saw him in Colorado, you’ve gone back to the girl I first met, who was stupidly into my best friend for some reason.”
Mat put a finger to her lips to stop her responding.  “Ally, you love him.  You never stopped.  And I know he feels the same, even if he hasn’t said it because he doesn’t want to pressure you.”
“Mat, I work here.  I can’t just pick up and leave.  There are still months left in the season. And…” Mat stopped her.
“There is a solution for every one of the roadblocks in your head - including the one where you have to be brave and take the leap of faith.  Only you can do that one.”
Ally thought about it, running all the steps in her head, before making a decision.  
“You’re right.  I do love him.  And sometimes you just have to jump.”
*****
Ally couldn’t believe how fast everything had moved once she made the decision to surprise Tyson in Minnesota.  By Saturday afternoon, she knew that Tyson was surrounded by some amazing people in his new city.  Mat had used his contacts to smooth the way for Ally getting into the game and a pass to the family area.  It was the captain’s wife who volunteered to pick her up at the airport, taking her straight to the arena for the game.  
As they pulled into the family lot, Ally had her first bout of doubt that she was doing the right thing.  What if Tyson didn’t want her here?  As the doubts circled her mind, she was escorted into the arena.  As they were approaching the family waiting room, Ally heard a deep voice calling her name and looked up to see the captain heading towards her.
“So glad you got here,” Jared said, shaking her hand.  “I just wanted to welcome you in, and to reassure you that we’ve been taking good care of him.”  
After a brief exchange of information, he headed back to the dressing room and Danielle took Ally into the family room to meet some of the significant others and their families.  Ally didn’t want to see Tyson until after the game, not wanting to distract him.  He was already overwhelmed with the pressure of his first game after the trade and in front of a home crowd, she didn’t want her presence to throw him off.
As the game went on, Ally could see Tyson get more confident.  It would take a little time to get fully in sync with his linemates but they had some good shifts together.  By the time the final horn went, the WIld had won the game.  Ally made her way down to the dressing room area with the others, waiting for Tyson to come out.
Every time the door opened, Ally would be a little disappointed when it wasn’t Tyson.  She was texting with Mat who wanted an update when Jared came out followed by Tyson.  The two were chatting when Jared glanced up and saw Ally, and said something quietly to Tyson.  Tyson looked at him puzzled, before following where he was pointing to where Ally was standing.
Tyson shook his head in disbelief, before quickly coming over to her, and pulling her into a hug. 
“How?  Why?” he stuttered, in shock that she was really there.
“How is a long story, but it starts with Mat.  And ends with some very nice people here who are good at secrets.  And why?  Tyson, I couldn’t not be here to support you.”
“I thought I was going crazy when I thought I saw you in the crowd because you should be in New York with your team.” Tyson pulled back to look down at her.  “Why aren’t you with your team?”
Ally took a deep breath before answering.  “They didn’t actually need me anymore and I thought maybe this would be a great fresh start for us,” she said nervously.  “If you’re okay with there being an us.”
Tyson’s eyes widened with shock.  “Us - you and me here in Minny with a new start?”
Ally watched a string of emotions cross his face and went to pull back.
“Maybe this wasn’t a good idea,” she muttered.  “I’m gonna let you go out with your team and…”
Tyson did the one thing that would get her out of her own head - he kissed her, one hand moving to cup her head gently as he kissed her with all the feelings he had been holding in for almost a year.  The catcalls from his new teammates finally broke them apart, Tyson resting his forehead against hers.
“I love you,” he said quietly.  “Always have.  And I definitely want us.  You don’t know how much I want there to be an us.”
“Enough to support unemployed me?” Ally asked with a smirk.
“That won’t be for long because my girl has mad skills,” he chuckled.  “She’s gonna keep me after I retire,” he laughed.
A few of the guys walked over to be introduced to Ally.  They all made plans to go for food and some drinks, encouraging the two of them to join them.
And as they were sitting with the people who were going to become their new friends, Ally looked over to see Tyson with a little smile on his face.
“What are you thinking?” she asked, squeezing his hand to get his attention. 
“Who knew the best thing about getting traded would be you coming back to me?” he whispered in wonder. 
“To new beginnings,” Ally she toasted Tyson, sealing the sentiment with a kiss.  
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polikszena · 1 year
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Title: Beginner friendly
Fandom: Top Gun: Maverick
Characters: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, Beau "Cyclone" Simpson, Maggie "Letdown" Miller(OC)
Relationships: Rooster x OC
Rating: General
Summary: One night at the club La Cubanita, Rooster spots an unexpected guest.
Notes: Okay, this is really random, because I wrote half of this on my way home from last week's dance party and finished it later. This is a small additional chapter to a Top Gun-fic of mine, For a little bit of sunshine.
Beginner friendly
"I've got you a drink. You looked like you'd need one," Rooster said when Maggie joined him at the bar. Her cheeks were rosy, her lips curled up and sweat was glowing on her collarbone. She was wearing a flowy blue top with a pair of skinny jeans and her dancing shoes.
"Thank you," she said, beaming at him.
"They're keeping you busy tonight," he stated.
"As expected," she said, "since I told my groups there would be more beginner friendly songs in this party. And beforehand I convinced Jackie to play more beginner friendly songs," she added, throwing a glance at the DJ. "At least they dare to ask me for a dance. Cheers," she raised her glass.
Rooster raised his own and they both drank while watching the couples on the dance floor until something made the aviator choke on his beer.
"Holy shit," he mumbled.
"What is it? A dreadful outfit?" Maggie wondered.
"Worse," he said, leaning forward to take a closer look. Perhaps his mind was playing tricks on him, and it was just a lookalike as he wasn't the only tall and well-built, dark-haired fifty-something in San Diego. But it was dedinitely him, dancing with a woman in a dress with printed roses on it. "Cyclone."
Surprisingly, Maggie's face lit up.
"Where?" she wondered, her eyes now searching for the vice admiral.
"Two o'clock, with the woman in a dress with roses," he told her.
"That's Mrs Cyclone," she said when she spotted them in the crowd.
Rooster nodded his head and they both started watching the older aviator. It felt so odd to see him like this: wearing his civilian clothes, in a club in San Diego, dancing salsa.
"He's a bit stiff, isn't he?" Rooster said as Cyclone led his wife back to the open position, concentrating to keep the beat. He could see his mouth moving as he was probably counting out loud: one, two, three, five, six seven.
"He's still a beginner" Maggie pointed out. "We've all been there."
"I know, but it's kind of nice to know that there is something I'm at a more advanced level than him," he admitted. "It's like finding out that your Math teacher roots for the same team as you and it makes you see him more like an actual human being."
"Or start doubting your sports choices," Maggie said.
"Or that."
About two songs later, Vice Admiral Beau "Cyclone" Simpson led his wife off the floor and when they spotted Maggie at the bar, they decided to join her. They didn't even seem to notice Rooster next to her. A grin broke out on the dance instructor's face, being genuinely happy to see them, but at the same time she felt a little awkward as in the class they were on a first name basis with everyone by default, while he was Rooster's superior.
"I'm so glad you could come!" she said, deciding not to say any names.
"Good evening, Sir," Rooster greeted him with a nod, and Maggie noticed that he had straightened his back a little more.
"Lieutenant," Cyclone turned to the aviator with a smile. "I didn't know you danced as well."
"For quite a few years now," Rooster said. "Although I havent' been doing it very often until recently," he added, throwing a glance at Maggie who smiled at him.
"Well, let me introduce you to my wife, Barbara," the vice admiral said. "Honey, this is Lieutenant Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, one of the aviators who succeeded in our latest mission."
"I've heard a lot about you," Mrs Cyclone smiled at the young man. "It's nice to finally meet you."
"Actually, I came to ask Maggie for a dance," Cyclone said. "I hope I wasn't interrupting anything."
"Not at all," Maggie said.
"In that case, may I have this dance?" the aviator asked, and when she said yes, he led her to the dance floor.
As much as he wanted to see Cyclone with Maggie, Rooster found it awkward to stay alone at the bar with the vice admiral's wife, so instead, he turned to her:
"May I, Mrs Simpson?" he asked, holding out his hand to her.
"Yes," the woman said, " and please, call me Barbara," she added as they walked to the dance floor.
Beau "Cyclone" Simpson was visibly nervous as they started to dance which surprised Maggie a little, knowing how confident the aviator was at his job, on the other hand, she knew how nerve-wracking it was for a beginner to ask the teacher for a dance. When they would have to lead steps to someone way more experienced than him and there would not be anyone to tell them what the next step would be. She tried to be at ease with him, pretending she hadn’t noticed his mistakes and just enjoying the dance, hoping that it would make him feel more relaxed. However, after he led her a perfect coca cola turn (something they learned in their last class), a wide grin broke out on Maggie’s face - she couldn’t help it. Seeing her changed expression, the aviator startled a little.
“Sorry if I messed it up,” he said.
“No, you didn’t,” Maggie assured him. “It was actually great. That’s why I was smiling.”
Poor man, she thought to herself, this must have been extremely hard for him. Not only dancing with his teacher as a beginner but having his subordinate witnessing all of it. It must have been excruciating for him. Still, he asked for a detailed review of his performance once the song ended. He came here to practice after all.
“Lieutenant Bradshaw is an amazing dancer,” Barbara Simpson told her husband when he and Maggie joined them at the bar. She was glowing, with an ear-to-ear smile on her face, just like any woman after a good dance.
“It seems you’re a man of many talents,” the vice admiral stated.
“And even more practice, Sir,” Rooster said. “Would you like to see it?”
Cyclone raised a brow at the question, but then he smiled and nodded his head.
“Sure.”
Then the mustached aviator turned to Maggie and asked her for a dance. He couldn’t hide his smug smile as he led her back to the floor, ready to show his superior how to dance salsa.
“For a moment I thought you’d ask him to dance,” Maggie admitted as they returned to the floor.
“I think he did, too,” Rooster said with a chuckle.
“Just don’t intimidate him too much,” she told him when they stood into position.
“Maybe a little bit,” Rooster said and began to lead.
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What is your opinion on the last happening episode of Big Sky? About the progression and Beau's backstory?
Kinda miss your episodic reviews
Aw!! Thanks for asking, Lovely Nonny!! I was literally just thinking about writing a little post about this!! I haven't had the chance to write my little recaps/reviews lately cause real life has been crazy and I've been trying to keep up with my too many fic series!
But I found myself in a conundrum about the info we got in this last episode, because while I'm very happy we got it, I hated that Carla was spewing it out to Jenny without checking with Beau first. Like Jenny JUST fucking told her Beau hasn't shared anything about Texas and his life there and, and yet, she's just like blabbing away. "Oh, he didn't tell you about this, he didn't tell you about that?!" Like, shut up! Let Beau tell her himself!
But I did appreciate hearing about some of what he's coming from, sounds like he lost a partner to a gang of some kind? Wonder if he died or if he went bad or something?
I also hated Carla's little dig when Beau said he couldn't drink cause he was working and she was like, "Never stopped you before." Wanted to bitch slap her for that one. He accepted her apology too easily, imo.
Like, she broke up with Beau Arlen (even a possibly broken and hurting Beau Arlen!) to marry the sketchy af asshole, Avery?! He was SO uncaring when Emily was missing in episode 7. Even Carla wasn't as upset as she should have been about her 15 year old being missing while all this scary/dangerous stuff was happening. My daughter is 15 and if I were in that situation I would be - 1. calling Beau immediately and 2. SCREAMING at anyone who I felt wasn't as concerned as they should be.
Ugh! I still need Beau to punch Avery at least once, really hard! 😠😠😠
Anyway, my ramblings may have made you sorry you asked, but to sum up, glad we got a bit of info - hated how we got it.
LOVING this season with Beau.
P.S. Still don't trust Cormac, and is it too much to hope the shady criminals following Avery will just shoot him, or at least beat him up a bit? 😜
Thanks for the ask, sorry for the novel!! 😘🥰
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nifolution · 2 years
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Catch Your Breath 1
Pairing: Jake Jensen & Reader
Summary: Lost chances sometimes come around again. Jake wasn't about to let it slip by a second time.
Warnings: Mostly fluff, angst, feels, cheating (not Jake or reader), hurtful pranks, missed opportunities, lots of reused movie dialog
A/N: Modern/partial high school AU. First chapter happens in 2001. This is a revised copy of my oc fic. (The last name has to remain for a reasons.) It is written in 3rd person. No stealing, no reposts, no translations, no feeding to AIs. Comments, reblogs and likes are always welcome and appreciated. 
Series Masterlist Main Masterlist
Chapter 1
Y/N stood in the corner of the gymnasium, watery eyes drifting over the endless tacky streamers and balloons. For what students paid for tickets, you’d think the school could afford better quality decorations. Her sight landed on the giant banner and scoffed at the message, “Catch Your Breath. Yeah, and I hope ya choke on it.” She wiped her eyes, no longer concerned with keeping her makeup intact. The school’s mascot ‘Paulie the Pickle’ danced idiotically in the middle of the room, encouraging the crowd to join in. “What a fucking joke.” Prom was supposed to be one of the happiest and most memorable nights of your teenage years. It was memorable alright, but for all the wrong reasons.
The bane of her existence, the cheerslut Noel, set her sights on Y/N’s boyfriend the moment they arrived. She was currently on the rebound after breaking up with her on again - off again beau, John, and was looking for the next best thing. Y/N may have felt sorry for her if the girl had not spent the last four years making her life a living hell. Plus Noel refused to keep her hands to herself, latching onto Silas. Touching and flirting with him nonstop, completely ignoring that his girlfriend was right there.
Silas seemingly rebuffed her advances while his girlfriend was around, but the temptation was too much apparently. Y/N stepped away for a few minutes to chat with her friends. Only to turn around to find her boyfriend sticking his tongue down Noel’s throat. Oh, hell no! She marched over to them, grabbed a fistful of the slut’s hair and yanked her off Silas. 
“What the fuck, you bitch,” Noel’s whiney voice screamed.
“This isn’t what…”
Y/N saw red. “Silas don’t even try the ‘this isn't what it looks like’ excuse. You are so full of shit. I was gone for five minutes. How could you?”
Noel gave a fake pout, “Guess you should've kept a better eye on him. Can’t blame the guy when something this hot is around. Maybe if you worked out a little more he wouldn’t need me. Too bad, so sad.”
Resisting the urge to smack the girl in her face, Y/N squared her shoulders. “And I think it's incredibly sad that you only know how to value yourself based on how others want to use your body. You're going to live a very lonely life, Noel.”
Y/N pushed past the cheating jackass, avoiding his attempt to grab her arm. “Screw you, Silas, we’re done.” 
“Snookums, don’t be like that. It meant nothing. Just a slip up, I promise.”
She ignored her ex-boyfriend's empty words and walked away. He didn’t even apologize. They’ve been dating since sophomore year, lost their virginity to each other, planned to get married someday and he threw it away for that skank. She managed to hold back the tears until she found a quiet area by the benches. Sending her cousin a quick text asking for a ride home, she allowed herself to cry out her heartbreak. 
Jake Jensen was bummed, prom was nothing like he imagined. He spent so much money on a suit, the limousine and the perfect corsage for his beautiful date, only for her to humiliate him. Getting out of the limo, his date asked him for a kiss. Giddy, he closed his eyes and leaned in, only to be met with thin air. Opening his eyes, he found himself surrounded by the cheerleading team and half the jocks. They hollered and laughed as they pelted him with water balloons full of pickle juice. Their assault ended with his date calling him a loser and shoving a pickle in his face. Something the group found hysterical. 
He cleaned up as best he could, and stood under the hand dryers for what felt like hours, but the smell lingered. Jake came out of the restroom and plopped down on the nearest bench. Cringing as his not quite dry suit squished a bit. Just as he was deciding that he should go home, he heard sobbing. Turning his head he saw his classmate, Y/N crying.
He’d had a crush on her since forever, but she didn’t know he existed, especially with her hunky boyfriend around. Why was she alone? Looking around, Silas was nowhere in sight. Someone had to help her. Tentatively, Jake approached, “Hey, are you okay? Please don’t cry. If you tell me what’s wrong, maybe I can help?”
Y/N vaguely recognized the boy trying to console her. The blue eyes peering out from the large glasses, the messy hair, she’s seen him around. He took a lot of advanced courses and they didn’t run in the same circles, but he always seemed like a nice guy. “Not unless you can turn back time so I can stop my ex from making out with that slut, Noel and ruining everything.”
“I’m sorry, you deserve better than that dickhead.” Not having a tissue, Jake handed over his tie for her to dry her eyes. 
She sniffed and patted at her eyes, frowning, “Why do I smell pickles?”
“Shit, that’s me,” he admitted. “The um, the slut was my date, actually. Found out the hard way that it’s a long standing tradition for the head cheerleader to take the biggest nerd to prom, and have the popular kids douse him in pickle juice.” 
“What immature asshats. I’m sorry they did that to you.”
“It’s okay, I’ll live.” He offered his hand, “Jake Jensen.”
“Y/N Reyburn.” She shook his outstretched hand. “I do remember you, actually. I was in band with your sister. You and your friends talked your way into her last competition field trip by convincing the principal you guys had to jump up and shout ‘tequila’ when we played the song.”
Jake laughed, “That was worth it. And I believe our contribution helped you guys win second place.” 
“Oh, of course, couldn’t have done it without ya. Thanks.” She smiled and took a deep breath. Her phone chimed, alerting her of her cousin’s message. “Shit! She’s not coming for another hour.”
“Who?”
“Oh, um, my ride. For obvious reasons I want to get the hell out of here.” As if she needed proof the universe was against her, Silas and Noel started playing tonsil hockey a few feet away. She felt sick. “Think I can get away with pulling the fire alarm?”
Jake spotted the new couple, knowing how it must be hurting Y/N, “Or I can start a fire.” Her loud snort made him smile. He offered her some punch while she waited, she accepted. Clicking his tongue and making finger guns, he ventured to retrieve the beverages. Swiftly returning and handing her one.
Y/N raised her glass, “Cheers to high school clichés; computer nerds, band geeks, bullies, slutty cheerleaders, hurtful pranks, and being dumped at prom. We got the whole teenage experience tonight.”
“To the horrible teenage experience,” he toasted to the absurdity of the night. The conversation continued to flow easily between them. He took the chance and asked her to dance before she left. Almost regretting it when she said yes, because he did not know how to.
Luckily, Y/N did. Jake covered up his nervousness by singing while they swayed. When the song ended, he wanted to kiss her so bad, but knew it was too soon. So he placed a kiss on her hand. Earning him a breathtaking smile. 
He accompanied her outside and waited on the school steps. Wanting to see her smile again, he tried to impress her by doing a backflip off the railing. “And the crowd goes wild.”
“That was awesome.” When he bowed, she continued, “To be fair, I'd have liked it just as much if you fell on your face.”
Jake scoffed, “How rude. You know you loved it.”
“Hey, I wanted to thank you for making tonight tolerable. Tell ya the truth, I wish we would have come to prom together. We would have had a great time. No drama, no embarrassment.”
“Well I still had a great time. My favorite part was when I was the unwitting victim of a seriously dumb prank, but the all-night clinging stench, that was good times.” He shook his head, “Honestly, you're the only reason I stayed. Turned my night around. You’re an amazing girl, Y/N. Maybe we can hang out some other time.” Jake wanted to ask her out properly, but not until she was ready. 
She giggled, “Some time when you don’t stink of pickles.”
He nodded, “When I’m back to my regular freshness, I promise you can smell me anytime you want. I give you full permission to just take a whiff whenever you fancy.” Jake lifted his arm, leaned in and exaggeratingly gagged. “Just not now though.” He started asking for her number when a car pulled up honking.
The driver stuck their head out the window, “Move your ass, Y/N. I haven’t got all night.”
“I got to go. Thanks again, Jake. I’ll see ya around.” She ran down the stairs and hopped into the waiting vehicle. 
Jake sighed as the car sped off. “Oh, that sucked.” It would be okay though, they still had a month of classes left. He’d get another chance.
---------------
Two weeks later, despite his best efforts, Jake had not run into Y/N yet. He kept expecting it to happen organically, but alas, it did not. They didn’t share any subjects and his class times never matched up with hers. They never ran into each other in the hallways because their schedules kept them in different parts of the school. Exams started next week and Jake knew there’d be no chance to see her until graduation if he didn’t do something now. 
A lightbulb went off in his brain. The next day he arrived early and broke into her locker. He wrote a small note with his name and number and placed freshly picked flowers on top. He hoped she liked them. His neighbor, Mrs. Shaw certainly did, and hopefully wouldn’t notice that he nabbed a few from her garden.
Y/N had been doing her best to find Jake. She didn't know his schedule or where his locker was. It was frustrating, she felt like she was just missing him. If she'd just be a minute earlier, or later, she’d see him. Today she even waited outside by the entrance as long as she could before class started, sweating her butt off in the heat, and he never entered the building. Another day gone without running into the one person she wanted to see. Huffing as she opened her locker, Y/N was greeted with a bunch of flowers wilted to a mushy mess. Ugh, they were probably from Silas. She scooped them up and threw the flowers in the nearest trash can. Never seeing the piece of paper stuck to the bottom. 
Her exams flew by and before Y/N knew it, she was walking across the stage to receive her diploma. Time to celebrate, high school was finally behind her. When the ceremony was over, she went on the hunt for Jake. Knowing where he would be sitting alphabetically, she made a beeline for his section, hoping she wasn’t too late. She was almost there when someone stopped her.
“Y/N, hey, congratulations. We made it.” Silas gave her a bear hug.  
Trying to get this encounter over with, she decided to play nice. “Congrats to you too. Glad all that is over.” She tried to get him to put her down, but he took it as an invitation to kiss her. She pushed him away and demanded he let her go.
Silas’ face fell, “I miss you, Snookums. Don’t you miss me?”
“I don’t have time for this.”
“If it’s because of Noel, I swear we aren’t a thing anymore. She was just a phase, Snookums. It was no big deal, nothing really happened, so I don’t see why we can't get back together. I love you and I know you're the only girl for me.”
Y/N crossed her arms, “So this would have nothing to do with the fact she's back together with John?”
“Of course not.”
“And you weren’t caught having sex with her in the library after our history exam.” At least he looked ashamed. She was so done with him. “We are not getting back together, Silas. I wish you the best, but it’s not going to happen. I have to go. Take care of yourself.” 
The G - K section was empty by the time she pushed through the crowd to get there. She continued searching in vain for Jake in the sea of people. Once the venue was down to a few stragglers, she knew she missed him. Guess he wasn't serious about seeing her again after all. 
Jake rode shotgun in his friend’s car, on their way to a party. He looked for Y/N at graduation, but when he spotted her, she was embracing and kissing Silas. His heart fell at the sight. Guess they made up. Throwing in the towel, he left as quickly as he could. He was disappointed, but not surprised. Nobody wanted a loser. 
Chapter 2
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my-dumb-obsessions · 1 year
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Ten Random Lines Tag
Thank you for the tag, @sillyliterature!
Rules: Pick any ten of your fics, scroll to the midpoint, pick a line (or three) and share it. Then tag ten people.
I don't actually have 10 fics yet, but here's what I've got. And I also don't have 10 friends but tagging @ephemeronidwrites, @anderstrevelyan, @psalacanthea, @glowing-blue-feathermage, @notebooks-and-laptops, and @fthechantry if you feel like going through your back catalogs 😁. Also feel free to ignore.
All the Things I Deserve (E, F!Hawke/Anders) - Act 2 romance
The last brought a smile to his face and his dark amber eyes were full of both sincere affection and heady desire as he whispered, “Astrid…” He so rarely used her first name it sounded special, like a shared secret. And she loved the sound of it rising from his lips like a prayer.
By Your Side (M, F!Hawke/Anders) - unpublished, Act 1-2
Gamlen snickered, “And your lowlife friends are any better? Or your dear father?” Hawke gaped at the low blow, and her uncle visibly worked to hold back his temper, “I had nothing to do with this. Maker’s fucking breath, Hawke! You’re a stubborn bitch, but we’re still family. And Bethany was the best of you lot.”
Fly Away (T, Anders & Velanna) - post-Awakening Vigil's Keep
“Meaning?” Velanna shrugged. She’d never heard of it but assumed it was something obvious to humans.
“Oh, right!” He smacked his forehead as if he’d missed something obvious before folding his arms and leaning against the window frame by her feet, “It’s a Chantry holiday…Day of the Dead, remembering the fallen and all that…”
“Ah,” she nodded, “and the Wardens have a lot of dead to remember, I imagine.”
I've Got You (E, F!Hawke/Anders) - Deep Roads Expedition
“Bethany is twenty years old, Mother. She can make her own decisions.” Hawke tossed the comment back in passing as she followed her mabari to the door. “I’m taking Beau  out. I hope you can have this settled by the time we get back.”
Light the Way (T, F!Hawke/Anders) - unpublished, Act 1
“It was amazing, by the way.” Hawke declared when Anders returned with tea. He looked confused by that, but they took their mugs with thanks and she clarified, “The magic you did, with the blue fire and the lights and, um…” she made an expansive gesture with her free hand, “exploding Templars.” He snorted at that and tried to hide his smile, taking a seat on a crate next to her.
“That was a spirit you called, wasn’t it?” Bethany interjected, “You're a medium?”
One Door Closes (T, F!Hawke/Anders) - pre-Act 1
When the waiting room cleared, a tall, blond man stepped out from the curtained area, scrubbing a hand over his face. The dwarf approached him and pointed her out as they conversed. A brief flash of panic crossed the healer’s face when he saw her, but he seemed to shake it off, thanking the dwarf before walking over to her. He greeted her with an apologetic smile, “Sorry about the wait. Maksim…takes his job very seriously.”
Silverite Moon (M, F!Amell/Nathaniel) - unpublished, Awakening
Velanna had been observing quietly, but asked Sigrun next to her, “Why is that funny?”
The legionnaire nearly fell from her seat giggling, and Anders answered for her, “Well he’s either going to try to kill her or kiss her. In either case, we might need a new archer.”
And from my only non-DA work, a Skyrim behemoth known as God of Monsters - (E, Forsworn Dragonborn)
The Matriarch smeared a bit of the bloody paste - a mix of crushed eyes, dragon blood, and a generous portion of void salts - between her own sparse brows. She dipped her thumb again, and anointed Ruari’s forehead, “Eagle of the Reach.” Melka stepped back momentarily, concentrating, and then anointed Ruari’s lips, “Dragon of the North.” The girls watched, visibly awestruck at the hagraven’s ritual. She paused again for a moment, and made the final mark on Ruari’s chest, above her heart, “Wolf of Oblivion.”
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flightfoot · 1 year
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I posted 18,156 times in 2022
That's 5,206 more posts than 2021!
2,695 posts created (15%)
15,461 posts reblogged (85%)
Blogs I reblogged the most:
@galahadwilder
@gentil-minou
@chronicallylatetotheparty
@trainsinanime
@lovingadrienhours
I tagged 13,225 of my posts in 2022
Only 27% of my posts had no tags
#ml fanart - 3,373 posts
#adrien agreste - 3,260 posts
#ml spoilers - 3,182 posts
#miraculous ladybug - 2,171 posts
#marinette dupain cheng - 1,962 posts
#ask - 1,718 posts
#ladynoir - 797 posts
#alya cesaire - 676 posts
#adrienette - 614 posts
#toh spoilers - 540 posts
Longest Tag: 139 characters
#i don't trust these kinds of prediction posts unless someone reblogged it way back at the time so you can see that the post wasn't changed.
My Top Posts in 2022:
#5
To make you feel better: please rant about your FAVORITE au and what it is you like about it. Bonus points if you can make the author keysmash in the comments/tags.
Right now? Hard competition between @buggachat's Bakery Enemies AU and @wackus-bonkus-maximus one does not love breathing. Which should not surprise anyone, if you've been on my blog these past few weeks. Though right now I think I'm gonna go with the Bakery Enemies AU, because wackus's AU is still very painful and angsty and it's got a great set-up but I NEED a happy ending to soothe the pain. Sentis go through so much psychological horror in that fic, and I suspect that more's coming up...
Anyway, I absolutely adore the Bakery Enemies AU! I've written five fics for it so far.
Perspective From Another Timeline, because I really wanted to cross over BEAU with canon in some way, and Alya and Nino make everything better.
Swallowing Rings is Bad For Your Health, because I found the concept of what might happen if Marinette HAD actually swallowed the ring to be really funny, and it took only a minor tweak to explore that possibility. Most awkward identity reveal ever!
Greeting the New Dawn, because I wanted to explore some of the remaining angst even after Marinette and Adrien know each other's identities and are reunited properly. I think it's especially relevant now, with its focus on Marinette having nightmares about what could have happened to Adrien, if things had gone a little bit differently. I'm betting that Marinette will have more nightmares in BEAU soon, with feeling guilty about being so convinced, yet again, that Adrien is evil.
Hungover Realizations, because after the sleepover arc, I wanted a funny and adorable reveal to tide me over.
And finally, Forgetting Enemies, Rediscovering Friends, because I've wanted to write an Oblivio-inspired fic for ages.
I just really love BEAU, it's got that dramatic irony that helped attract me to Miraculous in the first place, and I love how clearly you can see Adrien's and Marinette's emotions throughout it.
1,015 notes - Posted August 10, 2022
#4
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WE HAVE A MARICHAT KISS PEOPLE. FULLY, WILLINGLY, ON THE LIPS, MARICHAT KISS!
1,253 notes - Posted November 3, 2022
#3
Oh yeah, it was interesting seeing Luz’s past in Thanks to Them, including her interactions with other kids. It doesn’t look like kids went out of their way to be mean to her or to hurt her, so much as they rejected her when she displayed some of her interests in things that other people found gross or dangerous. The adults were actually a lot more outright hurtful and mean than the kids were.
 Kind of reminded me of Eda’s school experience actually, especially with her being so famous as a troublemaker. 
Oh yeah, and there were these two guys, who seemed pretty friendly.
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Like they genuinely seemed thrilled to meet someone who was also passionate and into weird, somewhat scary things. I think that, assuming she splits her time between the Human and Demon realms, Luz will actually have some school friends in the Human realm this time, with these two. Bet they’d love the Demon Realm.
1,394 notes - Posted October 16, 2022
#2
I love how Marinette sees the bell and IMMEDIATELY thinks that Kuro Neko’s Chat Noir. That bell is one of the signature features of his outfit... which is why it’s kinda sad that as Catwalker, he doesn’t have it.
1,778 notes - Posted January 24, 2022
My #1 post of 2022
I love how Nino just snatches Adrien when Lila sees them and runs off with him XD
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See the full post
2,236 notes - Posted October 21, 2022
Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →
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