#inevitably end up back home on my island

[galadrielspeaks]

i think i understand elven sea longing because whenever i smell salt in the air i too am filled with a sudden and debilitating longing to abandon whatever roots i have made and run off to live in peace by the sea

#i no joke really do understand elven sea longing bc i live in the states right now but im from puerto rico and there is an ache i feel #whenever i see photos of nature that i hits me so hard and so deeply that i know no matter what life i build here in the states i will #inevitably end up back home on my island #ash rambles #sea longing

[cherries-and-smoke]

I’ve never been to New Mexico

“Hey mom.” Steve is leaning against the fridge, wrapping the phone chord around his finger. He already wants this conversation to be over.

“Hi Steve,” she grimaces back, as if he’s already done something wrong. She says something about New Mexico, and a business conference and how it’s unbearably hot and Steve is doing what he always does during these phone calls, emotionally detaching so the sting of his parents words don’t cut into his skin.

“You would hate New Mexico.” That snaps him out of it.

“What?” He chokes out. He pretends it doesn’t hurt.

“We’re in the desert, and you can see all these stars from the house we’re staying at and it’s so boring.”

Steve swallows.

Steve wonders how his mother can take the stars in the sky and turn them cold.

And also how she’s so far from knowing him, the real him, that its almost laughable.

“It’s just dreadful here - oh look your fathers home! Don’t get into any trouble Stev-”and the line clicks dead.

Steve shakily sets the phone down and inhales. Part of him wants to rip it off the wall and smash it into a million tiny pieces. He never wants them to contact him again.

The funny thing is that yesterday, Nance, Rob and Eddie had all come over to help him plan their summer road trip. They took some of Erica’s left over My Little Pony stickers and mapped everything out. There was currently a pink pony placed carefully next to Santa Fe on the map. Eddie and Steve had watched as Nancy and Robin launched into an argument about which route they should take and they both ended up covered in unicorn stickers. Eddie and Steve shared a knowing look.

They all needed a break from the upside down. From what happened during spring break. So when Jonothan suggested that the kids spend the summer at Argyles family’s beach house in California, Joyce and Hopper didn’t put up much of a fight. Nancy, Robin, Eddie and Steve were going to meet them and spend the rest of the summer bugging the kids to put on sunscreen and heard them from activity to activity.

Steve loves the kids, he does. He loves the way Dustin always comes to him with his scientific discovery of the day, he loves Erica’s sense of humor, although some manners wouldn’t hurt, he loves the way Will always quietly says thank you, how El says bitchin’, how Mike can always find a way to trip over air. He loves Lucas’s high pitched laugh and the way Max rolls her eyes at Steve when he makes a lame dad joke. But the month long break had been nice. It gave him time to focus on other things.

He was actually looking forward to New Mexico.

His parents always assumed he hated the outdoors because he spent the summers of his childhood locked away inside trying not to bother anyone while his parents fought, or his mom drank too much, or when they inevitably left. Steve wasn’t exactly going to summer camps like other kids his age. Didn’t mean he didn’t want to.

Steve places his hands on the kitchen island and takes a steady breath. He isn’t going to let her get to him.

“Honey I’m homeeeeeee,” Eddie calls out from the entryway. “You would not believe what happened at practice, Gareth had the audacity to fuck up the one so- Eddie freezes and gives Steve a once over. “What’s wrong?”

“Mom called.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“What’d she say?” Eddie steps around the kitchen island and takes both of Steve’s hands in his own. Steve fidgets with Eddie’s rings.

“That I would hate New Mexico,” Steve whispers not even bothering to look up at Eddie.

“She doesn’t even know you, how would she know that?”

Steve’s silent. He wants to travel across the entire country with Eddie, do it all. And secretly he hopes that maybe one day they’d somehow have a family and do it again. Maybe every summer.

Eddie brings Steve’s hands to his face and kisses his knuckles, the sensation grounding him.

“She doesn’t deserve you Stevie.”

Steve gives Eddie a soft smile. Eddie always tells him that. Steve never fully believes him.

“They don’t deserve you,” Eddie leans his forehead against Steve’s when he says it.

“Also, the girls are coming over, we have a surprise for you.”

“What?” Steve says looking up. Eddie just raises an eyebrow and an epiphany crosses his face.

Steve watches as Eddie pats himself down till he finds what he’s looking for. He pulls out his black bandana with a smirk and motions for Steve to turn around.

“Is now really the time?” Steve muses.

“Shut up.”

Steve lets Eddie tie the black bandana around his eyes so everything is pitch black. Eddie carefully guides Steve by his shoulders till they’re standing in his front lawn.

“Eddie what the fuck.”

Eddie giggles.

“Just wait.”

Steve huffs as his boyfriend wraps an arm around the nape of his neck and pokes at his frown till it turns into a smile.

Steve suddenly hears a honk.

A very loud honk that‘s getting closer and closer. Eddie absentmindedly runs his thumb in circles on the back of Steve’s neck.

He hears a pair of footsteps on the hot pavement. “Dingus!!” Steve feels a crash of weight on his side and tries not to let that startle him. He can tell it’s Robin from a mile away.

“What are you guys doing?” Steve says, bandana wrapped tightly around his eyes as Robin squeezes his hand.

“Hey Steve!” Nancy’s voice rings out from across the lawn. He‘s faintly aware something’s jingling in her hand.

“Are you ready? Are you ready? Are you-”

“Robin,” Steve says exasperated.

“I’ll take that as yes.”

“Ok guys on the count of three,” Steve hears Eddie say.

They all inhale and in unison Robin, Nancy and Eddie start counting.

“One. Two. Three.” The bandana comes off.

Parked right in front of Steve’s house is a brand new, state of the art RV. Steve is kind of having trouble breathing.

“Guys…” he trails off.

They all look at him waiting for his reaction.

“Who’s RV is this? It’s really nice.”

Robin groans, Nancy hits her shoulder lightly.

Eddie’s hand is still resting on the back of his neck.

“It’s yours,” Eddie finally says.

That seems to snap Steve out of his daze.

“What?”

“Guys this is too much. I mean look at it!” Steve motions with his hands.

It’s the newest model. Big enough to fit the entire party and more.

“So Steve,” Robin begins, looking up at him hopefully.

“You know how Owen’s gave us all hush money? Well we talked to the kids and we were talking about how much we love you and how much you do for us, and how we want to spend as much time together as we can before the kids leave for college, and you know before we all move and everyone gets separated and how we should start doing family vacations and basically-”

“Robin,” Steve sighs.

“Let me finish! Basically we decided that we want to do family road-trips… every summer.”

Steve drinks in the words “family road-trips.” Sweat is prickling his skin from the Indiana heat.

“And we decided to all pitch in and get an RV, it’s in your name by the way, we want you to have it.”

Steve is at a loss for words. Robin is still waiving her hands around in excitement, Nancy‘s looking at him expectantly and Eddie’s palm is now cemented on his shoulder.

“Why me?”

“Because we love you dingus, duh.”

“Plus we gotta make room for those six little nuggets huh Stevie,” Eddie whispers into his ear with a smile.

Steve lets their words wash over him. He loves them so much. He doesn’t know what he did to deserve them but he’s grateful nonetheless. Steve breaks out into a wide grin and catches Eddie’s gaze.

Robin makes a gagging noise as Nancy presses the RV’s keys into his free hand. The key is dangling from a unicorn keychain.

She smiles. “Wanna see the inside?”

#platonic soulmates stobin #platonic stobin #steddie #stranger things wip #stranger things #stranger things fandom #stranger things fic #stranger things ficlet #fruity four #ronance #found family

[cameronslilypad]

find me through my dealer - part two

summary: you and rafe have been in the same friend group for a while now, so you could be considered close, when he finds out you have a dealer who isn't him he demands you cut them off and use him instead. you both work out an arrangement you get 'discounts' and in return do him 'favors' (but are they really favors if the both of you enjoy it a little too much?) because that's what friends are for right? friends?

part one

you wake up squashed between two bodies, with no room to move. the first few things you notice is the ringing in your ears, your pounding headache and arms laid loosely around you. you wait a few moments before giving in and slowly squinting your eyes open. you’re met with rafe, still fast asleep snoring softly, you slowly and carefully get up and the arms that were once around you drop onto the mattress with a soft thud. you turn your head seeing the arms belonged to becca and next to her was topper.

what the fuck. you laugh quietly to yourself at the fact all four of you have managed to end up cuddled together in rafes bed.

you slide to the end of the bed and leave the room, trying to be quiet but inevitably failing, and head downstairs to get some painkillers. as you’re sitting at rafes kitchen island, drinking some water, you realize your bag is laying on the floor. checking your phone the numbers 2:47 stare back at you.

how the fuck. you realize you need to go home, you feel disgusting and just want to relax in a bed that isn’t occupying three other people. you decide to be cute and leave them a note as you notice a notepad on the island.

morning sunshines! i went home because i felt gross, left painkillers on the island. love ya.

you go back into rafes room and decide to leave the note on rafes head. putting back on your heals, jacket and making sure everything’s in your bag. you leave for your 5 minute walk home.

hours have passed. becca had called you saying she was home and talking about lasnt night, which you only remember aspects of. you’ve had a nice long shower, done a facemask and are feeling a lot better. you’re parents aren’t home, as usual, they never are which is fine by you, it can get a bit lonely sometimes but you like your own space, and it allows you to do whatever you want. right now all you wanna do is smoke, watch some of your favorite show and use your vibrator. so you take your little tin that holds all of your smoke stuff downstairs and open it onto the table in front of the couch you’re now sat on.

you’re fucking joking. now the good news is you don’t have no weed but you don’t have nearly enough, one small nugget.

you: hey rafe u busy? need some weed asappp!

you swear this man better be able to give you some after telling you he has to be your only dealer. as you’re going on this hypothetical rant your phone lights up.

rafe: already lol how much u want

you: 3.5

rafe: im omw to urs

absolutely perfect. as you wait you decide to play some music, softly so it’s in the background, on the tv just as you finish queuing some songs there’s a knock on the door.

“hi, come in” you tell rafe standing to the side of the door so he can walk past you. he settles on the couch and pulls out a little baggie filled with weed. you take it from his hands and sit next to him.

“thank you. how much do i owe you?” you ask him settling next to him and already starting to grind some of the weed up.

“don’t worry about it” he replies looking at you with a little smirk.

“funny. but seriously how much” you reply just wanting a price so you can get the cash.

“i’m serious it’s on me” you didn’t really know how to feel about that, free weed is free weed so it’s great but it’s sort of like you owe him now.

“oh thank you. you got plans? wanna smoke some with me?” the offer was the least you could do after getting it for free

“yeah course” you smile at him, getting a cone out of your tin and just as you’re about to poke some of the weed in it a loud laughter interrupts you.

“what are you doing!” rafe can barely get the words out due to his laugh.

“what do you mean?” you ask a bit softer, suddenly feeling a bit self conscious. rafe points at the cone. ooooh.

“i can’t roll, so i use cones” you tell him, to which he looks dumbfounded.

“you smoke most days and you can’t even roll” you nod your head, it’s not the first time someone’s said something like this to you.

“i’ve never really had to, cones exist or i can get someone else to roll for me” it’s true, you had tried to learn how to roll. it was too stressful.

“i’m gonna have to teach you. but not today, ill just roll” rafe tells you with a slight teasing tone, pulling some papers out of his pocket. you watch him as he rolls, it takes him no time at all, and he passes the joint to you. you light it and take a few puffs and flick some ash into the ashtray that’s on the table, before passing it to rafe.

“i’m going to get some water, want any?” you ask him, standing from the couch.

“na i’m good thanks” his voice is a bit hoarse because of the weed and it brings back that fluttery feeling you had the night before.

shit, this isn’t good. you shouldn’t be feeling this way. you think as you get a water bottle ,from your fridge, taking a massive gulp to try and push this feeling down once again. you stand there for a few seconds and take a couple deep breaths before returning to sit next to rafe.

“i’m rolling you some more so you don’t need to worry about that cone shit for a bit” he says, as he finishes rolling a second joint. you realize he’d left the current joint you we’re smoking in the ashtray, you pick it up and take a few hits after making sure it was still lit.

“awwww how nice of you” you ruffle his hair, this wasn’t abnormal but for some reason the moment felt a bit more intimate than usual. rafes only response was a roll of his eyes but he has a smile on his face as he redirects his focus back on rolling your weed.

it’s silent between you, passing the joint back and forth, the music in the background making things not awkward at all. you stub the joint out and pick another up from the table. rafe had just stopped rolling, putting his papers back in his pocket. he’d rolled another five your you. you light the second one and just look at him, his eyes are focused on the tv playing some random music video. you’re not sure weather it’s the weed, or watching his hands and tongue while he was rolling or the cute little gesture. it could’ve been the fact that you felt the need to repay him for the weed or that you were waiting to use your vibrator and was already horny. or all of that could just be excuses for what your about to do as it would make it less embarrassing if it backfires.

just go for it, you’re going to do it anyways act confident to not make it awkward. you sit up and swing one of your legs over rafes lap straddling him.

“what’re you doing?” he asks, teasing tone prominent, a massive smirk plastered on his face and slowly reaching his arms around your waist.

“hmm nothing” you smile, feeling a bit dazed from the weed, you hold the joint to his lips. he takes a strong pull and tilts his head up the blow the smoke out, his adams apple bobbing up then down.

fuck.

“come here and open your mouth” he says taking the joint and having a pull. he then removes his arm from your waist and places his hand behind your head, pushing it towards his own until your noses touch. his thumb on the hand that’s still holding the joint brushes your lips, so you comply and open your mouth. he takes a sharp inhale of the smoke that was sat in his mouth and blows it into yours.

hot. you wrap your arms around his neck and he goes back and forth between taking a puff of the joint and holding the joint up to your lips, just looking at each other. it takes little to no time to finish this joint so you take the roach and lean back to put it in the ashtray. rafe quickly leans forward wrapping his arms tightly around you.

“i wasn’t going to fall” you giggle, leaning back up and pushing rafe back to his original position rolling your hips a little. he lets out a soft groan and leans into kiss you. it’s sloppy and a bit rushed, you place your hands up his shirt to trace his abs as his hands rub up and down your sides. he starts kissing down your neck, hands resting on your ass as he sucked on the spot under your ear making you throw your head back and letting out a half moan half gasp. you cant wait any longer so you slide your hands down from his toned stomach to his belt and start to attempt to unbuckle it.

“wait” rafe quickly grabbed your hands. your eyebrows furrow. well fuck, it did backfire, what an idiot. he takes one hand off of your wrist and uses his thumb the smoothen the wrinkles that had just appeared on your forehead, his other hand brings your wrist up to his mouth.

“are you sure about this?” he asks looking up at you, his eyes hooded. its an effect of the weed but if anything you think it makes him look even better.

“fuck rafe” you breathe out a laugh “you scared the shit out of me” you hide your face in the crook of his neck.

“silly girl” he tuts, knowing exactly what you meant without you needing to day it “i just need to make sure you want me as much as i want you” his big hands cup your face and bring it out of the gap between his shoulder and face, so you’re looking him directly in the eye.

“and trust me i want you bad” his words make you feel giddy, you turn your head to kiss his right palm then follow suit to his left palm.

“i guess you could say i want you a little” you shrug, letting out a small squeal as rafe manhandles you so your back is laid on the couch and he’s laid on his front, head laid on your upper thigh.

“a little hm? let’s see if you’ll still be saying that after i’m done with you” he sends you a wink massaging up your other thigh making his way up to the waistband of your sweats.

“lift your hips up for me baby” you comply, his lust struck tone of voice, and the pet name he’s used makes you believe you’d comply with anything he asked of you in that moment. he lifts his head up and pulls both your sweats and underwear down and completely off your body. you bring rafe down for a kiss by the back of his head, the buzz he’d recently got feeling soft on your fingertips. you bite his bottom lip and tug on his shirt but it seems he didn’t get the hint.

“cmon rafe take it off” you whine as he chases your lips again, unhappy that you broke the kiss to talk. he shoves his tongue back into your mouth and works his shirt up his body so his arms aren’t in it anymore and its hanging around his neck. he disconnects his lips from yours begrudgingly, throwing his shirt off and sitting you up slightly to make quick work of your own shirt. he fumbles very slightly with the hook of your bra before throwing it to the side in a hurry so he can get his hands on your tits, his lower lip is drawn into his mouth as he circles around your nipples. he takes the left one into his mouth letting out a long sigh, in return you let out a quiet mewl, throwing your head back and bucking your hips up. rafe shows the same amount of attention to your right boob before leaning down to your ear.

“lay back again for me” his husky voice mixed with the soft bite he leaves to your earlobe makes you shudder and comply straight away. rafes head ducks down to your thighs, leaving feather light kisses on either side, completely neglecting the place that is aching for him.

“rafe come onnn, stop being a tease” you beg him, you need him to touch you right now

“m sorry” he breathes out, placing the softest kiss to your clit “you’re just too pretty” he admits, the weed and your arousal making him soft and genuine, admitting things he probably wouldn’t admit otherwise, unless it was portrayed by him as a teasing, joking comment. and you’re loving this little side of rafe you’re seeing. his fingers finally touch where you’ve been waiting for, spreading your lips and slowly pushing one finger into you and slowly pumping it in and out before adding a second finger and slightly scissoring them, making your toes curl and breathless moan exit your mouth. you hold the back of his head and push him into you, he understands and flicks his tongue against your clit, the pace of his fingers quickening. you can feel the tension in your stomach getting stronger.

“fuck rafe, just like that” you moan out to him, feeling your self clench around his fingers and you’re about to cum. when the sensation completely stops.

“what the fuck” you whine pushing rafes chest as he comes up to kiss you, you turn your head in protest. he puts the fingers ,that were just in you, into his mouth.

“you taste so fucking good, but i want you to cum on my dick for our first time” he groans into your ear, tracing your jaw before grabbing it softly so you’re facing him.

first time? so its happening again. that’s fine with you.

you take his thumb into your mouth and wrap your legs around his waist, his dick fitting snug between your fold, making him look at you with dark, wide blown pupils. this is the first time your getting a proper look at it, its pretty, a mushroom tip and a few prominent veins running down to the base and a little pre cum dribbling out of the slit. you rotate your hips and take your thumb to his slit swiping some of his pre cum and licking it off your thumb.

“oh fuck” he shudders in a groan thrusting his hips so his tip hits your clit, making you gasp and realize your getting impatient you move your hips back to line his tip up with your entrance as best as you could. rafe takes control and grips the base of his dick slowly pushing it into you. you both throw your heads back and let out a strangled noise, almost simultaneously.

“you okay?” he asks brushing your hair away from your face as he bottoms out. you nod and thrust your hips up with a little whine.

“use your words baby, how you feelin’?” he starts moving, a slow and hard pace.

“good, so good. but go faster please” your words come out breathless and there are little halts in your sentence due to the force of his thrusts. he complies, which starts making him hit your g spot.

“oh my god” you squeal a little, overcome with pleasure. you grab onto his biceps to stable yourself. rafe leans down, putting his hand around your neck bringing you into a bruising kiss which makes you gush and tighten around his cock.

“knew you’d fucking love my hand here, squeezing my cock so good, you’re so good” his cockiness fizzling out as he rambles praise at you. you’re so close and your impulses take over you as you start to fuck him back

“shit baby i’m right there, tell me you’re there with me” he moans out as he starts to rub soft circles on your clit, trying to get you to cum before him.

“m there, cum with me” you say completely fucked out, pushing his lips into yours. after a few more sloppy thrusts and kisses you reach your orgasm, having to break the kiss as you let out a deep pornographic moan, basking the bliss of this feeling.

“shit, yes” rafes voice is so raspy and in that moment you don’t think you’ve ever found someone more attractive. he rides out the both of your orgasms with a few more thrusts before slowly pulling out, his cum dribbling slowly out of you.

“fuck, so pretty” he murmurs, almost massaging his cum on your clit. it almost seems as if he’s talking to your pussy rather than you.

“rafe i’m sensitive” you tell him softly, hips jerking at his actions. his reply is leaving a soft peck to your jaw.

“can you pass me my clothes?” you ask rafe as he gets up to put his boxers on. he gathers your clothes and to your surprise starts helping you get re dressed. he starts with pulling your underwear up your legs.

“hips” he mutters softly tapping them, you lift them and he pulls your panties in place, leaving a small kiss the the bow that decorates the front. following with your sweats. when it gets to your bra, you sit up and shake your head, you want to be comfortable, to this he wiggles his eyebrows up and down making you involuntary roll your eyes with a stupid smile on your face. you lift your arms up so your shirt can be put back over your body. rafe gets up and finishes dressing himself.

“i’m gonna head out, i’ll see you later” walking over to the couch giving you a weird sort of side hug.

“okay see you” he walks off, softly shutting the door behind him. your focus switches to the four joints that were left on the table, forgotten about a while ago. you change the tv from the music that was playing to your favorite show. as you light and take your first puff of your joint, it then starts to dawn on you.

what the fuck just happened?

part three

#rafe cameron #rafe obx #rafe x reader #rafe cameron x reader #obx x reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x you #obx fic #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe outer banks

[villain-apolog1st]

Satisfied (David Rossi x BAUAgent!Reader) Pt. 2/2

Summary: the tension building between you and Rossi becomes hard to ignore when he invites the team over for dinner

Tags: NSFW, oral sex (reader receiving), unprotected PinV sex (let’s assume reader’s on the pill), couch sex, dirty talk (praising, pet names), (fem!reader)

Translations: stella (star), bella (beautiful), gattina (kitten), dolcezza (honey)

A/N: this ended up being so long omg but something about this man gets my [creative] juices flowing

Read Part One

You made your way over to an empty seat next to Emily, desperately trying to ignore her knowing smile. Thankfully, the rest of the team seemed to be none the wiser, much to your relief.

“Alright, let’s play,” Rossi said, taking a seat on the couch across from you, next to Hotch. “As long as boy genius over there agrees to be dealer.”

Spencer sighed, once again banished from playing because of his ability to effortlessly win every time. However, the young doctor did enjoy keeping track of everyone’s cards nonetheless, trying to determine who would win before the round was even over.

And so began a friendly but competitive game of poker. Your head wasn’t exactly present as you kept replaying what had happened in the other room. It also didn’t help that you kept catching Rossi’s intense gaze throughout the game, the smirk on his lips indicating he knew exactly where your mind was.

Rossi won the first round (“nothing beats years of experience” he claimed, with a pointed look at Reid). Emily won the second, after which Hotch and JJ went home to their respective families as it was getting late.

Penelope won the third. You weren’t doing great at the game and also took pity on Reid, so for the fourth round you were the dealer. After he inevitably won, he also headed home. Another round later (which Rossi won again) and the rest of the team decided to call it a night. Derek offered to drive Penelope and Emily home, as the two winners had had more than their fair share of drinks.

Penelope and Emily chanted a drunken rendition of “We Are The Champions” as they struggled to put their shoes and coats on. You nearly bent over from laughing as they sang loudly in an exasperated Derek’s face. Rossi, fighting laughter himself, offered to help the poor guy. Taking hold of Emily’s arm while Penelope grabbed Derek’s, he walked them out to Derek’s car, leaving you inside.

Smiling to yourself, you began clearing up the glasses and the remainder of the plates, walking them over to the kitchen. You tried not to think about how it was going to be just you and Rossi left in his house, but you couldn’t help the butterflies low in your belly. After placing the dishes in the sink, you noticed a bottle of wine off to the side, still half full. Why not?

You pulled two glasses from the cupboard and opened the bottle as you hummed along to the music that played. Caught up in your own thoughts and with your back turned, you hardly noticed that Rossi had returned to the kitchen.

“What’re you up to, stella?” He asked, making his way over to you.

You turned and handed him a glass, staying leaned against the kitchen counter, almost mimicking your position from earlier. “Did you manage to get the girls in?”

“Barely,” Rossi chuckled, accepting the glass gratefully. “Morgan’s going to have his hands full.” He placed himself directly across from you, leaning against the island and studying you with dark eyes. There was a moment of silence as the two of you sipped your drinks, each watching the other.

“Now, tell me something, Y/N,” Rossi said, breaking the silence and slowly approaching you. He gently took the glass you were cradling and placed it on the counter along with his before his hands came to rest on either side of your hips. “What exactly was missing from my dinner that left you less than satisfied?”

It was impossible to ignore the heat between your legs now, your body thrumming in anticipation. You took in the sight of Rossi’s parted lips and slightly dilated pupils as he waited for your answer.

So you gave it to him. “This,” you stated simply, before closing the distance between the two of you and pressing your lips to his. Rossi immediately wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close to him. Soft sighs and moans escaped both of you as your tongues explored eachother’s mouths.

You pulled away to catch your breath and Rossi effortlessly moved to place kisses along your jaw, not wanting to take his lips off you for a moment. “Dave,” you sighed as he reached the sensitive skin of your neck.

One of his hands remained wrapped around you while the other gently kneaded your breasts through the fabric of your dress. He brought his mouth back to yours, mumbling “Beautiful,” before capturing your lips again.

Your fingers tangled themselves in his hair as you pushed yourself tight against him, feeling his erection pressed between the two of you. You reached your hand down and rubbed him over his pants, making him open his mouth against yours in a sharp gasp. “Y/N,” he groaned. “Couch, now.”

Giggling, you let go of him and walked over to the couch, pausing as you reached behind you to tug the zipper of your dress down.

Rossi beat you to it, coming up behind you and unzipping your dress. “I’ve been wanting to do this all night.” His breath tickled your neck, leaving goosebumps behind as he helped you out of your dress.

He all but pushed you onto the couch, your back against the arm rest as he knelt on the couch in front of your legs. You could see his breathing was erratic as he admired your figure, scantly clad in your matching underwear set. You trailed a hand down towards your panties, spreading your legs while Rossi watched you like a hawk.

His breath hitched as you pulled your panties to the side, exposing your glistening folds. Unable to help himself, he palmed his hardened cock through his pants, watching as you slid a finger down and collected your juices before bringing your finger to your mouth. “Mm,” you moaned, sucking on your finger earnestly. Rossi’s mouth parted in surprise at the salacious act.

“You dirty girl,” he grinned before he quickly moved to position himself over you, his mouth back on yours in a deep kiss. His hand pulled the cup of your bra down so he could pinch and tease your nipple with his fingers, making you moan against his lips.

Rossi moved his mouth down, pausing to unclasp your bra and free your tits before attaching his mouth to your nipple, sucking and biting as you threw your head back. As he alternated between your breasts, you found yourself lifting your hips to grind your mound against him.

Rossi moved to press his mouth against your ear. “Desperate, are we?”

You whimpered as he nibbled at the shell of your ear. You were desperate; your clit throbbed and you could feel your wetness slowly leaking into your panties.

Rossi moved himself off you suddenly, making you whine at the loss of contact. He unbuttoned his shirt, throwing it to the side before bringing his hands to your hips and sliding your panties off. He lowered his head between your legs, placing kisses up your thighs until his mouth was inches away from your centre.

“Dave, please,” you moaned, lifting your hips to get him to give you attention where you needed it. You could feel his breath against your clit and it was driving you crazy.

Rossi used his fingers to spread your folds apart, allowing him to admire the way they glistened with your juices. “Please what, gattina? Use your words.”

“Please eat me out,” you practically begged, unable to handle more teasing.

“Since you asked so nicely,” he hummed before bringing his mouth to your centre.

“Fuck!” You groaned. His tongue was nothing short of heavenly; circling your clit before sucking it into his mouth. He alternated his attention between your clit and your opening, using his tongue to slurp up the juices that collected between your folds.

You could feel your orgasm approaching as Rossi continued his ministrations. You buried your fingers into his hair, pushing his face against your core. You could feel him moan against you as he sucked your clit back into his mouth, his eyes focused on you panting above him. Your legs clamped around Ross’s head and you cried out as waves of pleasure rocked through you.

When you finally relaxed, Rossi brought his mouth back up to yours. “I love the way you taste,” he mumbled against your lips. You moaned into his mouth, already feeling warmth pooling low in your belly once again.

Rossi lifted himself from between your legs and stood in front of the couch. He helped guide you onto all fours, your hands now gripping the back of the couch while he stood behind you.

You were practically dripping in anticipation when you heard the sound of Rossi unbuckling his belt and his pants dropping. His hand gripped your hip to steady himself as he slowly rubbed his cock along your slit. “You’re so wet for me, bella,” he husked as his cock dragged through your folds, pressing against your clit.

“Please, Dave,” you pleaded, making the agent’s cock twitch against you. Your grip on the couch tightened as he nudged your clit repeatedly with his cock. “I need you in me.”

You gasped as he suddenly slid into you, his thick cock filling you right away. “God, Y/N,” he hissed as your walls clenched around him. “It’s like you were made for me.” Both of his hands now gripped your hips as he let you adjust to his cock before starting to thrust into you slowly.

You groaned at the feeling of him sliding in and out, and he picked up the pace as you relaxed around him. Rossi seemed to know just how to make you cry out, his cock repeatedly hitting the sweet spot inside of you.

One of Rossi’s hands left your hips to grab your shoulder, pulling you flush against him. You were now kneeling on the couch as he continued fucking you from behind, the new angle even more pleasurable.

The sound of skin on skin filled the room, your bodies sticking to each other as they became slick with sweat. “Fuck,” you cried out, your voice shaky as he pounded into you. “Your cock feels so good.”

“Never thought I’d hear you say those words out loud Agent L/N.” Rossi husked in your ear. He was close, and judging by the way you were milking his cock, so were you. He pulled out suddenly, grinning at the frustrated sound you let out.

“Come here, gattina. I’m not done with you yet, don’t worry.” He sat down on the couch and pulled you over so that your legs were on either side of him, your dripping cunt hovering over his cock.

Rossi guided his cock back into you and you sank down until you were completely filled by him again. You leaned forward and placed your hands on his shoulders for support as you began moving your hips up and down his cock.

Rossi began matching your movements, thrusting upwards into you. You watched with pleasure as he groaned at the feel of you clenching around him, the knot within you tightening with every thrust.

“That’s it, ride me, dolcezza. Ride my fucking cock.” Rossi grunted as your hips snapped against his, tits bouncing in his face. He took one of your nipples into his mouth while his thumb began rubbing circles around your clit. Your head was cloudy with pleasure, making it difficult to speak. “Dave,” you cried out, the wave building inside you on the brink of crashing.

“Come for me, gattina. You can do it. I want to feel you come all over my cock.” Rossi panted below you.

His words were all you needed to go over the edge; you let out a groan, rocking your hips against him as your hole clenched around his cock. You moaned his name over and over, your nails digging into the bare skin of his shoulder as your orgasm rocked through you.

“That’s it, Y/N, good girl.” Rossi moaned as his cock twitched inside you. He captured your lips with his, groaning into your mouth as hot spurts of his cum shot into you.

You slumped against him, both of your foreheads pressed together and damp with sweat. Rossi pressed a soft kiss against your lips before gently helping you off him.

He stepped back into his boxers before disappearing. In that moment, the couch felt like the comfiest place in the world and you felt your eyes closing.

Rossi returned with a damp cloth and a glass of water. “Up, bella,” he said, handing you the water as he helped you up. As you soothed your parched throat, he used the cloth to wipe down your skin and between your legs.

Satisfied with his work, he pressed a kiss into your hair. “You were amazing, Y/N.”

You smiled up at him before meeting his lips in a kiss. “So were you.”

Rossi took his shirt from the floor and gave it to you to put on before walking with you upstairs. You used his bathroom, smiling to yourself at your ‘just fucked’ reflection: hair messy, makeup smudged, and lips swollen.

You returned to the bedroom and joined Rossi in his bed, sighing as he pulled you close. Your head rested against his chest, his own head over yours while his arm was slung over your waist.

As you closed your eyes and snuggled into him, you heard his voice from above you. “Well? Are you satisfied now?”

You laughed into his chest at the question. “Yes, Dave. I’m satisfied.” You answered, pressing a kiss against his skin before the two of you gave in to the pull of sleep.

#c: david rossi #david rossi x reader #david rossi x fem!reader #rossi x reader #david rossi smut #david rossi criminal minds #david rossi #criminal minds smut #criminal minds #criminal minds oneshot #criminal minds x reader #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #derek morgan #aaron hotchner #hotch x reader #aaron hotch x reader #spencer reid #spender reid x reader #penelope garcia #derek morgan x reader #bau team

[fiapartridge]

you’re losing me | quinn hughes

"i can’t find a pulse / my heart won't start anymore..."

quinn hughes x reader

summary: quinn is losing you and he’s too busy to even notice…

warning(s): angst, unhappy ending, quinn being a dick

author’s note: it's summer and i finally have time to write <3 also, this song is so fucking good and so sad i can' t even

read part two here !!

It started when you woke up this morning: no trace of Quinn on the other side of the bed. The sheets were tucked into the mattress, the pillows were neat and fluffed as if it had never been slept on, and there wasn’t a single note in sight. 

When you first started dating Quinn, the boy would leave notes everywhere, ranging from his whereabouts in case you woke up and found him gone to sweet notes telling you that you were his favorite human being on this planet. He made you feel loved. 

But at some point in your six years of dating, Quinn had stopped trying. You attributed his absence to his busy hockey schedule, but as time went on, you began to question when hockey became more important to him than anything else. When did he start putting his career before you?

While he was out doing God knows what, you used the time to think about your relationship with Quinn. Was there really any future for the two of you, or were you just sitting idly, waiting for the day that you inevitably break up?

You’ve wanted to marry Quinn ever since you first said “I love you”, but you couldn't shake off the nagging feeling that something held him back. It was hard to tell if he was just scared or if he had doubts about whether you were "the one." Regardless, you had always dreamt of getting married someday, and if Quinn wasn't on board with that, what did it mean for the two of you?

You were sitting at the kitchen table when the front door to your shared apartment opened, revealing a weary Quinn, who took off his jacket and tossed it on the hook by the entrance. He walked into the kitchen, not sparing a glance at you before opening up the cupboard, grabbing a glass, and filling it with water. 

He stood by the marble island, reading through the mail that laid sloppily on the counter. 

“Quinn,” you said. He hummed in response. You didn’t know if he was aware of your presence, but apparently he was— he just didn’t feel the need to address it. “Where were you?”

“Practice.”

You nodded, standing up from your seat at the table and walking behind Quinn, placing your chin on his shoulder and wrapping your arms around his stomach. He didn’t react, he just kept reading the mail. “You didn’t say anything this morning.”

He sighed— not in remorse, no, it was like he was worn out. “Sorry,” he said.

You were tired of the one-worded responses. He didn’t want to tell you he was leaving, he didn’t want to say hi to you when he came home, he didn’t bother to give you actual responses. You wondered if he knew he was losing you with every second of silence— of absence. 

You didn’t want to ask your next question, but you knew it would elicit some response from him: positive, or negative, which was better than nothing. You also simply wanted to know. Does he see a future with you?

“Do you ever think about marrying me?” you whispered against his shoulder.

He tensed for a minute before continuing on with the mail, rereading and rereading it as if the words will change the harder he stares at it. Somehow, the question left him with fewer words than before. 

The silence was deafening, it felt like an answer… and you were fading. You wanted to detach from him and shout, “Do something, Quinn! Say something— anything!” But you didn’t. You held on tighter to him and allowed him to break your heart again.

⋆·˚ ༘ *

You figured a party would lessen the tension between the two of you; that you would finally have some time to spend together, to love each other again, to realize that he does want to marry you. But your assumptions were wrong. Quinn sat across the room, tuned into a story that Elias was telling him and a couple of other guys from the team. 

Quinn had dragged you to the Canucks’ charity banquet, one that they put on every year, and you had obliged. Sure you had a bunch of work left to do, but Quinn wanted you to come; he wanted you to be there with him, to hang out with him, to talk to him. You couldn’t say no to that. 

But as Quinn laughed at another thing that Elias said, not even checking to see if you were still there, you came to regret your decision. The longer you sat at the bar, wearing a fancy dress that cost you the entirety of last month’s paycheck, sporting makeup that took you forever to do, and heels that hurt whenever you stood up, it dawned on you: you were undeniably the best thing at this goddamn party— and you didn’t deserve this.

With a tired huff and a small hop off the stool you had been keeping warm all night, you had finally made it to the exit, only to be pulled back by a sudden tug. You stumbled backwards, your body slamming into the man of the hour.

“Where are you going?” Quinn asked. 

You could barely wrap your head around it. Now he suddenly cared about you? After ignoring you the entire night, when you finally mustered the courage to leave, he pulled you right back in. You were so done with this. And above all, you were exhausted with Quinn's obliviousness. How could he not see that he was losing you?

“Oh, I don’t know, Quinn. Maybe I’ll jet off to Australia, or perhaps I’ll go to Switzerland! Which one’s farthest from you, do you know?”

“Furthest from me?” he scoffed, clearly perplexed. “What are you even talking about, Y/N? Where is all this coming from?”

“Are you seriously that oblivious, Quinn?” you exclaimed, your voice tinged with frustration. “Can you really not tell?” 

He ran his hand over his face. “I honestly don’t understand, Y/N.”

"I know you don't," you sighed, weariness seeping into your voice as you shook your head. You were just... done. “Listen, I wouldn’t marry me, either, but—”

“That’s what all of this is about? Me not wanting to marry you? Y/N, we’re 23. We’re busy—”

“Not now, Quinn!” you pulled at your hair, frustration coursing through you. How did he not understand? Did you have to draw it out for the guy? “I asked you if you wanted to marry me, full stop. Not now, not in ten years, not next month, but eventually. I wanted to know if you saw a future with me.”

"Of course I see a future with you, Y/N— that future just doesn't involve marriage."

You couldn’t believe it.

Quinn didn’t want to marry you— ever.

You held onto your purse tightly, willing yourself to hold back the overwhelming wave of emotions threatening to consume you. Your throat tightened, and you took a deep, shaky breath, determined not to let a single tear escape.

Without another word, you turned away and headed straight for the exit. This time, there was no one there to pull you back, to stand in your way, or to beg you to stay.  It would have been nice if Quinn had just done something, said something, taken a damn risk. But, as expected, he didn’t.

The only thing he did was lose you.

#hockey imagine #nhl imagine #hockey fic #nhl fanfiction #quinn hughes #quinn hughes imagines #quinn hughes imagine #vancouver canucks #quinn hughes angst

[asumofwords]

Lighthouse - Sailor!Aemond x LighthouseKeeper!Reader - Mini Series 4/4

Summary: You work as a lone Lighthouse keeper on a small island just off the coast. Everyday was the same routine, tending to your duties and the lamp with not much time to spare. But what will happen to your routine when a storm rages across the sea, and a handsome man washes ashore?

Warnings: This fic is 18+. Readers discretion is advised. Warnings will be added in their relevance. She/Her Pronouns. Pining, kiss, angst, anxiety, fingering, smut, pussy eating like a champ, creampie for days, creampie, longing, dirty talk, love, fluff.

Note: Good lord, this is a long one, and also the final chapter! It's sitting at 12k words, so settle in for a hefty piece because I refused to cut it down or into two. Thank you all so much for your love and support of this mini series, I have had so much bloody fun writing it! I hope you enjoy how I have ended it, and hopefully now I can do some one shots for once in my damned life hahaha. Anyway, enjoy!!! <3

Final Chapter: Inevitable Ends, New Beginnings

The first thing that you noticed as you woke was a soreness between your thighs, a dull ache that throbbed with your heart beat, eyes slowly opening to the early morning light.

The room had a light blue glow to it, the sun only just beginning to rise over the sea and lands behind you, casting your little sanctuary in a cerulean tint. 

The second thing that you noticed when you awoke that morning was that you were alone.

You turned in the sheets, eyes surveying the room in search for the silver head of hair you had grown accustomed to seeing almost every waking moment, but he was nowhere to be found, though there was evidence of his presence being there.

Bar the small marks on your skin, the smell of him in your sheets, and the soreness between your legs, your clothes that had been strewn on the floor were now neatly folded on your chest at the side of the room, and the lack of breeches and tunic told you that Aemond was already up and dressed.

A moment of anxiety crawled through you.

Had he left you?

But then you remembered that he had no way off of your island, unless of course he swam, which you very much doubted he would be desperate enough to escape you to do that. But then there was the reason for his absence that early morning that began to spiral out of control in your mind.

Had he slipped out of bed? Tiptoeing as quickly and quietly as possible to not stir you from your sleep because he regretted last night, and could not bare to face the shame and embarrassment of seeing you? 

Had your moment of weakness tainted his stature in society? 

Would he beg that you tell none other? 

Not that you knew anyone from where he was from, but still, the inferiority of your birth gnawed at your conscience and creeped through you like the bitter sea winds.

Did he get his fill and was now avoiding you at all costs? 

Was he repulsed in himself for laying with you? 

Did he wish to pretend that it did not happen? 

Was his early departure to find the time and wherewithal in himself to gather strength to not feel ill upon looking at you? 

Sure, men of his breeding were sometimes known to lay between any woman’s legs, but it was usually one of equal standing and not at all someone of your status. And if last nights activities were any reference, there was no doubt within your mind that he had in fact lain with women before, once, twice, more, if his skills were any indicator. But perhaps they had been Ladies of his court back home, women of good breeding in high society, and for him to have been with you, well that would be akin to rolling in the mud.

You pulled yourself from bed and dressed yourself nervously, shaking your runaway thoughts, fingers stumbling over your buttons, pulling hastily at the laces of your boots, all too tight for your feet to be comfortable.

When you walked into the living space, you found that the glasses and whiskey had also been put away, no longer on the table where they had been left that evening, and atop the coal stove sat your kettle, steam rising from its nozzle. 

Beside the door, your large coat was hung on its hook, and the hook beside it, which had recently held your fathers old coat, given to Aemond to keep him warm on the breezy island, was now bare. At the absence of the coat, you knew that Aemond was to be outside, and decided to go out in search of him. 

Perhaps he left early to see what he could salvage of your boat, desperate to rebuild it himself and risk another encounter with the waves in an effort to get away from you. Or perhaps he had-

You walked to the lighthouse, the only place he could possibly be besides the beach that was empty with few planks of wood and what remained of his ship that hadn’t been re-swept out to sea.

Dew covered your boots, kicked up from the soft strands of grass with every step you took. The air was cold, and as you breathed, a cloud of your breath puffed in front of you, white and soft that dissipated before your eyes just as quick as it came. 

The large door to the lighthouse creaked open, and then clunked shut behind you, echoing up the spirals of stairs, no doubt alerting him to your presence. You slowly began to make your way up the never ending steps, the only time in your life in which you had dreaded it and found each one to be harder than the last.

Would he run?

Would he scorn you for seducing him? Bewitching him? Tempting him?

Or would he let you down gently? Telling you the dispiriting truth that you both knew; That he was a Lord and you were not of good breeding, and he would have to go and be wed to his advantageous bride that awaited him back home, and that laying with someone like you was a grievous mistake indeed.  

Your heart beat in your chest rapidly, gut churning as you picked at the skin at your nails nervously. 

When you got to the top of the lighthouse's small landing where the lamp was held, you spun in search of him, spotting the figure of the sailor, bent over the small desk in the corner, quill in hand. 

His long hair was pulled back in a loose braid, tied together with a piece of ribbon from one of the bags of food William had delivered to you. You watched as his hand moved swiftly across the page of your log book, pointer and thumb delicately holding the quill as ink pressed into the parchment with a neatness and precision that could have only be attained from proper schooling.

Hearing your approach, Aemond lifted his head to face you. Stray strands of silver hair hung in front of his face, swiftly tucked behind one of his pale ears as he gazed at you.

A small smile pulled at his lips, eyes crinkling in the corners. 

All anxiety, all worries, any trepidations about his reaction after your coupling from the evening before were swept out the window when he stood straighter, smile pulling wider at his lips.

“I didn’t want to wake you,” He placed the quill in its holder, leaning down to the book to blow at the ink gently before he took a step toward you, “You needed the rest.”

Be still my beating heart.

You smiled at him shyly, watching as he came closer towards you, hand twitching at his side as though it longed to reach forth and close the gap between you.

But it didn’t.

“You should have woke me.” Your hands clutched each other tightly in front of your skirts, embarrassment licking at your neck. How could you have ever doubted him?

Aemond shook his head at you, “No need. You have already taught me what needed to be done.” He turned to face the table again, picking up the log book to hand to you, “I’ve logged the weather for the morning. Checked the lamp and oil reserves. All is well.” 

You took the book from him, watching as his finger reached to graze yours gently, sparks flying up your arm. His writing was neat, swift and soft loops pulling in a slant as he correctly and proficiently logged the winds, skies, seas and temperature. There was not a thing missing, and he had even written note of his predictions of the weather for the rest of the day.

He stepped closer towards you, heat radiating off of him, “Besides, it’s only fair since I spent the night teaching you something new.”

Heat rushed to your face, hands clutching the logbook tightly as you looked away nervously, hearing his soft chuckle before his head dipped, hands coming to grasp the log book from your own, fingers purposefully covering yours, “Do you want to double check my work?” He asked softly.

You shook your head underneath him, stepping back, letting him take the log book from you to place back on the table, “No, I trust you.”

At your words, a softer smile pulled at his lips, before he held his hand out in the direction of the stairs, “Shall we? You’ve not eaten yet.”

“How did you-“

“-You would have seen I was gone and come straight for me. You’re a naturally curious person, and no doubt had a myriad of questions or things to say. I wondered if you would have felt some sort of fear to wake up alone after what we did last night.”

Heat rose in your cheeks again, and you cursed yourself mentally for ever doubting him, for ever doubting yourself, “I thought perhaps you would have made a mistake. You are a Lord, and I-“

“-You are far more than what you believe. I have not met anyone quite like you. Your birth and rank mean nothing to me.” Aemond’s hand reached forward to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, warmth spreading through you at his words.

You couldn’t look at him, casting your gaze down to your hands as your eyes prickled with tears. How could he be so kind to you? How could he be so understanding? So calming? 

As your thoughts began to race away from you again, Aemond uttered your name, causing your gaze to raise to his.

“Stay with me. Do not let your mind run away from you.” His seeing eye flicked back and forth across your face, the other unmoving, “Come. Let's eat.”

-

Aemond had walked with you by your side back to your cottage, and together you ate your breakfast, talking quietly to one another, through the initial shyness that swallowed you, about anything and everything you could to avoid talking about the evening before and what it meant for you, and despite his obvious desire to discuss it, he did not push the conversation and allowed the pace to suit your needs.

And that was how your days passed, not quite dismissing what had happened, nor acknowledging it outright like before, but knowing that it had changed the space between the two of you. The dynamic had changed once again, the way you began to dote on each other changed, or more so, him doting on you more romantically.

For every morning that passed, you would wake to an empty bed to find him in the lighthouse before the sun would rise, logging the weather and checking upon the lamp. Even times where he would stir you from your sleep in the middle of the night as he left to keep an eye on it, or telling you to take rest and go to bed if you had been with the lamp in the late hours.

What was more, was that Aemond no longer slept upon the small couch, and nor did you, the both of you comfortably sharing your bed together in the cold of the night. At first you had been nervous, but Aemond had behaved as though the two of you had slept in a bed together for years, simply telling you that the two of you should retire for the night and sliding beneath the covers, opening the other side for you to crawl in after. 

Your initial thought at the behaviour was that he wished to dive between your thighs again, to lick and suckle at the crux of your legs or thrust himself between them, but not once had he pushed for it, or been untoward, in fact, he seemed to open the possibility of a second time to be entirely under your control. 

Not that he didn’t touch you, no, he would slide behind you and tuck you beneath his chin, arm wrapped around your middle to keep you close to him, lips pressing featherlike kisses atop your crown when he thought you had fallen asleep, fingers tracing your curves with a featherlight touch during the night.

The shift was not only different for the dynamic between the two of you and your new living arrangements, but different in your own duties. No longer did the work of the island consume your every waking moment and thoughts, for now you had time to sit, to read, to get a good nights rests and spend more time attending to smaller more menial tasks, like repairing clothing that you usually wouldn’t have time to, or cleaning the cottage throughly. You also felt yourself smiling more, laughing more, enjoying life and what Aemond brought to it. 

It was simple, nothing extravagant of course, but above all, content. It was in those quiet moments when he would tell you a tale of sailing or more sanitised story of his youth, small smile on his lips, did you realise that you were happy. Happier than you had ever been, and in every hour that passed spent with him, a warmth within grew. 

A warmth for him grew.

It wasn’t until you had insisted that Aemond sleep the early morning and for you to tend to the lamp did you realise just how much time had passed. 

You were up the lighthouse on the circular gallery that it had outside, leaning against the railings as you looked out at the water, watching as the dark blue waves rocked softly against the cliff below, and even more gently towards shore, which was slowly becoming illuminated with the sun. But that was not all that was illuminated.

There on the rocking waves, was a row boat, off in the distance, making its way towards you.

It was not an unfamiliar boat, nor was it manned by an unfamiliar man.

William was rowing towards your island, reprieve supplies in tow which he delivered on time, every time, but this time you had forgotten what day it was, how much time had passed since he last came, too preoccupied with the new and exciting presence that had landed upon your beach. 

With swift steps you made your way down the spiral case and sped to the cottage.

What would William say when he saw Aemond?

Would he be shocked?

Would Aemond be compelled to leave?

Would William send word to Aemond’s family and alert the town, thus speeding up Aemond’s farewell?

You selfishly didn’t want him to leave, and almost wished William had forgotten about you, just this once. And there it was, that ache in your chest once again at the thought of him leaving, at the very real knowledge that he would leave, and that you would be alone once more.

When you entered the cottage, Aemond was seated at the table, cup of steaming tea in his hand with another in front of him at your seat waiting. 

Waiting. 

He was waiting for you, with fresh tea made. 

Your eyes welled with tears before you swallowed them down, a lump in the back of your throat forming. You almost didn’t want to tell him, didn’t want to see the excitement light in his eye in knowing that he could go.

That brilliant violet eye, a colour you had never thought to be true on a person until you saw him, a colour in which made your heart fill with warmth and stomach full of flurry, looked up at you, smile at the ready until he saw your anxious demeanour. 

Your shifted on your feet back and forth before pulling your coat off to hang at the door awkwardly. 

Sensing your anxiety, Aemond straightened in his seat, “What is it?” His smooth timbre crackled in the air, your back facing him as your face crumpled.

You swallowed and steeled yourself as you turned to sit with him at the table, pulling out your chair opposite to him as you sat quietly, grasping the hot mug in your hands.

“Is there another storm coming?” His voice wavered as he asked, lingering fear of storms still clawing painfully in his mind. The visions of the waves, the darkness, the screams of his men, the water entering his lungs, the-

“A man comes.” Your voice pulled him from his memories, fingers tightening on the sides of the mug, “William. He brings my reprieve.”

Aemond’s silver brows pulled into a frown, “You sent word of my presence.”

It wasn’t a question. 

It was an accusation. 

“No.” You shook your head, and watched as he visibly relaxed, “I wouldn’t have sent word unless you asked. William brings my reprieve every fortnight or so. We have been so busy I,” You gnawed at your lip, “I forgot. I thought we would have had longer, but now I suppose when he comes, you can go with him. Take lodge in his home.” You sipped the hot tea to swallow your nervous rambling, but still it broke forth, “I have a friend, a fellow sailor. Dalton Greyjoy, he could take you close to home, another port, anywhere to help. I don’t have money to pay for your passage, but he likes me well enough to perhaps do me this one favour. Or mayhaps you could offer gold on your arrival, I’m sure-“

“-You wish for me to leave?”

“No. But I know you must.” Your heart clenched in pain, you lowered your gaze to the mug of tea in your hands, watching the steam slowly rise from it, “You have a family waiting for you, worried for you. I do not wish to keep you here knowing that I may be causing you pain, or your family pain in the unknown.”

If you had raised your eyes to meet his, you would have seen Aemond frown lightly, but you didn't, so you hadn’t.

“You do not keep me here, and my family are not of your concern.” A beat, “Nor mine.”

Silence wrapped around the both of you as you refused to meet his gaze.

“When shall he arrive?”

You swallowed, looking at the small clock on the mantel, “Within the hour.”

Aemond nodded in your periphery, chair scraping beneath him as he stood, “Excuse me.”

His footsteps echoed on the stone flooring as he made his way to the door, pulling your fathers coat onto his shoulders before he left, no doubt waiting at the small alcove or beach to watch William arrive. 

You stared at the clock for some time, watching as the minutes ticked by, arm moving across its face slowly. But now that he was gone, away from seeing you, you allowed yourself to feel the ache that had crashed inside of you. Tear after tear fell down your cheeks silently as you watched the clock, the heat of the mug that lightly stung your palms, slowly but surely turning cold. 

He would leave, and you would be alone. 

Alone. 

Again. 

And he would leave and marry another.

Not you.

It shocked you that the thought of him laying with another, holding another tightly to him, caressing her, kissing her, smiling at her in ways that only you had seen thus far, made your stomach feel as though a knife was twisting itself inside. The lump in your throat sharp as though a dagger had been thrust through flesh and sinew, obstructing you from swallowing or breathing.

It felt as though you were losing him again. 

You didn’t know why, you couldn’t reason with it, for you had never known him before, but that day on the beach, as he lay lifeless in the sand, you had lost him. 

And then he had come back. 

And now he was to leave once more, and no more would he laugh in your small four walls, nor would he wake you with tea, or twist in the sheets beside you. 

No more would his hand linger upon yours, or his lips, or-

As another tear fell, the door to the cottage opened, and your hands quickly swiped up the wet tracks left behind on your cheeks. Rapid steps moved into the room as the door clunked behind.

“Your friend has arrived.” Aemond breathed, looking at the redness of your eyes and un-wiped tears on your chin. 

You swallowed, that dagger still lodged in place and nodded your head to stand, averting your eyes from his as you brushed down your skirts, “I suppose then I should fare you well.”

All that you could hear was the crackling of the fire and the beat of your heart thundering in your ears. You knew if you looked up at his face, to look into his lilac eye, to gaze upon his soft lips and sharp edges, that you would fall apart.

And so you didn’t, keeping your eyes averted to the corner of the room near the fireplace, wishing for it to be over. Wishing that he had never washed ashore so that you wouldn’t have to bear the heartbreak of him leaving. 

Because that’s what it was, you realised in that moment. 

Heartbreak.

“I’m afraid I will have to ask for your generosity once more.” Aemond breathed, and you blinked, slowly raising your eyes to meet his. His seeing eye searched your face as he breathed heavily, “I feel I may be succumbing to illness. I am falling- I feel,” He swallowed, “I feel compelled to stay. If you’ll have me. If not for a while longer.” His chest rose and fell visibly beneath the coat, hair cascading over his shoulders like waves of water.

He wished to stay?

Here?

With you?

Aemond blinked at your silence as his shoulders slumped slightly. He shook his head, looking to the floor, “Forgive me. That was too much to ask of you-“

“-No.” You shook your head, “No, not at all. If you,” You swallowed thickly, “If you feel unwell and compelled to stay, who am I to cast out a Lord in need?”

Relief washed over the two of you, and an unspoken air of gratitude floated amongst the space. You fought the urge to smile, to laugh, to jump with joy at the prospect of him staying longer. Of wanting to stay longer, of the thought that perhaps staying here with you was better than the prospect of going home to his family. 

His previous words echoed in your head.

Let me stay dead a while longer. 

Was this his staying dead a while longer? Avoiding his duties that awaited him when he returned home?

“Will you tell William of my presence?” His voice broke you from your revere.

You blinked.

Would you?

“Did you wish for me to?”

“No.”

You breathed a silent sigh of relief, “Then I shall not tell William of your presence.”

Aemond shifted on his feet, before nodding, “Thank you.”

You gave him a hopeful smile in response.

-

William arrived not too long after your agreement with Aemond for his extended stay, and hidden presence. You watched on from shore as he pulled his boat up the sand, his warm eyes crinkling at the sight of you.

“Y/n, my girl!” He called out to you, trudging up the sand to you as he pulled you into a tight embrace which you returned heartily, head tucked against his chest. 

Ever since your father had passed, William had become a father figure to you, but he had always been like that. Or at least like an uncle, a man who cared and loved you just as much as he did his own. You considered him family, and he considered you one of the same.

“How have you fared? We worried for you with that storm." His hand gripped your shoulder tightly, "Celia was beside herself with worry, pacing about the fire each night. Thought she would have burnt a hole in the floors by the end of it.” He chuckled, pulling away to look you over as you smiled up at him.

“As you can see, I am alive and well. The sea did not swallow me this time round.” You smiled, and turned to help him pull his boat further up the beach to unpack the supplies.

“Not all were so lucky,” William cast a glance to the remaining debris from Aemond’s ship, “Large pieces of hull washed ashore, we worried the ship had run aground atop the lighthouse.” His voice grew morose, “A few men washed up on the beach, but none survived the storm.”

You nodded solemnly, pulling a large bag of flour from the row boat as you lined it up on the grass with the others, “Debris landed here too. The ship sunk just off of the horizon in the thick of the storm. The sea took all.”

William hummed sadly, “Unbelievable storm that, not even Lord Greyjoy had seen a storm so large. Did any find their way here?”

You straightened, heart beginning to race in your chest. You swallowed and carefully thought of your next words, “One. Though he succumbed to waves like the others.” 

The lie made you shift uncomfortably. You didn’t want to lie to William, but you didn’t want to go against Aemond’s wishes either.

A large hand grasped your shoulder and tightened softly, “There was nothing you could have done. We saw the lighthouse day and night through the storm and thats how we knew you were safe. Celia dragged me to the beach in the rain to make sure it was on as proof of your wellbeing.”

You nodded, “It would take far more than a storm to stop me or the lamp.”

William chuckled, a crackly laugh that was familiar and warm, “Don’t I know it. Now, are you going to make this old man a drink, or do I have to beg for one.”

You laughed at his words, picking up the sack of flour and other bags of food and supplies, leaving the large crates for him to carry, “Come on then, before the Gods take you.”

-

After doing multiple trips and talking along the way, the cottage was now filled with supplies and food for the next fortnight. Flour and dried meats and other items were strewn on the counter and in the kitchen, leaning against the walls and shelves, whilst small jars of pickled foods and jams made by Celia were neatly lined in a small crate on the table.

When the two of you had begun to drop the supplies into the cottage, you held your breath, hoping that Aemond had made himself scarce and out of the way as you came in and out. Thankfully, your bedroom door was for once closed, and you assumed Aemond was keeping himself quiet inside. 

William sipped at the warm tea you made him as he seated himself in the chair that had become Aemond’s, long stocky legs stretched out in front of him as he rubbed a knee with a hand, working some invisible pain or injury out of it.

“Place looks good,” William commented, eyes roaming across the room, “You’ve been busy.”

You hummed in reply, lifting the mug to your lips. 

If only he knew. 

But William’s gaze stopped by the door, eyes locked onto something as he wordlessly stared. 

Shifting in your seat you turned to face it, stomach dropping. 

Beside your empty hook, was the other.

And hung on it, was your fathers old coat.

Aemond’s coat.

Your head turned back to look at William, mouth opening and shutting as you tried to think of an excuse, as you tried to think of a way to explain as to why there was a man’s coat hung on your door when you had supposedly been alone. And as you opened your mouth to explain yourself, to make up some poor take of an excuse, William beat you to it.

“I miss him too.” His voice was lower than it had been before, “Did you keep all his belongings?”

Your heart pounded in your ears, and a pang of grief moved through you. 

Your pa.

He thought you had his coat out because you missed him.

And whilst you did miss him, you were thankful that that was what William thought of it, and not that there was a man living with you, currently hiding in your bedroom. Though, that would be a hard thing for William to believe, even if you told him.

You nodded, “It seemed a waste to be rid of them.” You sipped your tea, wondering where this conversation may lead you. 

William gave a gruff sigh, “Do you not get lonely here? You’re all on your own. A woman your age should have a companion, someone to talk to at the very least. A cat even.”

You raised your eyebrows at him, “Are you suggesting I marry someone? I have my pigeon, but she’s not very talkative.”

The sea weathered man raised his shoulders, “You’re not getting any younger.” His words irritated you as he continued, “Not that you’re not capable of doing this on your own.” He explained, watching as your eyes narrowed on him, “You’ve proven yourself more than capable for that. I just,” Another sigh, “I know this isn’t what your father wanted for you.”

“Wanted for me?”

“He didn’t want you here, trapped. He wanted you to see the world, to go out and meet someone. He hoped you would settle down, start a family. He did not want to bear the burden of the lighthouse onto you.”

You looked down at the table, “It’s not a burden.”

“I know.” He said, but it didn’t sound as though he believed you, “But how often do you get to do things for yourself?”

You gave him a small smile, “I am perfectly content here, I don’t see why I should have to marry.”

“I’m not saying you have to, I’m merely suggesting the option.”

You hummed, “Well, not many men would like to live this life, nor are they prepared or knowledgable enough for it.”

Except for Aemond.

William laughed, crows feet becoming deeper, “I know you think men are a burden, if not a waste of ones time, but you never know, one may just wash ashore and change your perspective.”

Your breath stilled in your chest.

Did he know?

“What about Greyjoy?” William clicked his fingers, “The Dalton lad.” “His eyes always looks for you when he comes to town. Asks after you; Where you are, who you’re with, what you’re doing. Nice lad.”

“Nice enough.” You shifted uncomfortably, “But his heart belongs to the sea, and he would scarcely be home. What life would I live raising a child with a father who blows in with the tide? Not to mention, he has, shall we say, fleeting affections for others.”

William snorted, “I wouldn’t say his affections for you were fleeting, but aye, he is a man of the sea through and through. And those Greyjoys are known for their whoring.”

You guffawed, “William!”

“What?” He looked at you incredulously, “I speak the Gods honest truth. He wouldn’t be my first choice for you, but Celia-“

“Ahh.” You leant back in your chair, “Has Celia been playing the matchmaker of late?”

The older man grumbled, “When has she not? She tried to suggest Edmund Pyke-“

“-The fish mongers son?”

“Aye.” William shook his head, “Meek young man, too meek for the likes of you. I told Celia you’d eat him alive.”

A huffed chuckle fell from your lips, “Not much to devour. If I remember correctly, he stands half your size. Quiet boy.”

“Indeed. Always a shock when you hear him speak, like a mouse’s fart.” The man teased, draining the rest of his tea in one gulp, “But a man like that is no match for a woman like you. You need someone who can take what you give.” His eyes softened as he looked at you, “I doubt any man would be worthy of you. You are so very much like your mother; kind, soft.” A grin pulled at his lips, "But then you are frustratingly stubborn like your father and argumentative to a fault. And Gods awful at making tea.” He grimaced.

“My tea is perfectly fine, thank you very much. If it is so horrible for you to drink, then perhaps you should make yourself scarce.” You bit the insides of your cheeks to stop yourself from smiling, and William did the same, until finally he burst into a howling laugh, hand on his stomach as his head bent backwards.

“Oh no,” He grinned, standing with a grunt and pop of his knees, “I don’t worry for you marrying a man, I worry for the poor soul who will have to marry you.” 

You stood to meet him, “Then you needn’t worry, for I see no husband on the horizon by the name of Greyjoy or Pyke.”

William raised a brow, “Just those names then?”

Heat rushed to your cheeks, “Be quiet, you.” You smacked him on the chest lightly, letting him pull you in for a final hug.

-

Slowly you walked William back to his boat, chatting quietly amongst yourselves as you went to shore, helping him to drag it down the sand to the water, the little vessel swaying in the small waves, the sun slowly beginning to set in the horizon.

“Now you take care of yourself, you hear me? Come to town and visit when the weather is fare. The girls would love to see you.”

You nodded, promising to come soon, hugging him once more on the sand. 

William took one final gaze at you, eyes searching your face with an almost unreadable expression to it, “You’ve changed.” He pushed his boat further into the water before sitting to face you, rowers in hands as his boat rocked side to side on the small waves, “You’re lighter. Brighter. Before the storm you were dull, but now…” His voice trailed off in the wind as he rowed himself backwards slowly, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were in love!” He called out, boat moving away from the beach.

“A good thing you know better!” You called out after him, heat rising in your neck and face as your heart began to race in your chest, “Give my love to the girls!” You waved and he nodded, your feet stepping back to avoid a small wave that dragged water up to your boots, “And tell Celia to stop trying to marry me off like a prized mare!”

“I’ll do no such thing!” William yelled back laughing, before finally he was away. 

-

You stood on the beach, watching the man grow smaller and smaller as he made his way back to shore. Your feet had begun to sink into the sand, damp seeping in through the sides before you decided to return back to the cottage. 

When you entered, your bedroom door was open, and Aemond was in the kitchen, pumping water in the dry sink to wash the two cups and put them away. As he heard your approach he turned his head toward you, though not fully.

“He seems a decent man.” He stated softly, hands scrubbing the tea from the cups.

You smiled softly, “He is. I grew up with him. Always visiting me and pa whenever he had the chance. And when pa died, he became a father to me.”

Aemond hummed, “He cares a lot about you, as if you’re his own.” Aemond grabbed a cloth and dried the mugs placing them back on the shelf, “It’s good to see decent men being decent fathers.”

You nodded and smiled. You knew from what Aemond had told you that he did not have a good relationship with his father, and you were more than fortunate to not only have one, but two father figures in your life who had been nothing but loving to you.

And whilst you thought of memories of your pa and William, the air in the cottage shifted.

Aemond dried his hands and turned to face you, his posture stiff, face pulled into a hard line, “You didn’t tell me that Dalton was pursuing you. You would let me leave on his ship with him without saying as much?”

There was something in his eye and the way that he spoke that made you shift on your feet nervously. 

You began to pull your coat from your shoulders, “Pursuing is an exaggeration.” You lied to yourself, “Dalton has no desire to ask for my hand, nor has he ever expressed any desire. His family are Lord’s. He himself is a Lord. His family would never approve of my-“

“-But he wants you.” Aemond said lowly, stepping forward, looking down at you from his nose, “Desires you. I heard William say that he seeks you out, asks after you. It’s clear there is something there between you.”

Your brows furrowed, “Do you make a habit of listening in on others conversations? There is nothing between me and Dalton. I have known him all my life, and to this day nothing has happened. He is scarcely in town, always on the seas exploring new lands, new women. His interest in me is purely physical, I assure you.”

“And is it reciprocated?”

You blanched, blinking up at him, “Reciprocated?”

Aemond’s jaw twitched as he looked down at you, “Do you desire him in the way he desires you? Do you wish for him to touch you?” His voice dropped lower as he stepped towards you, hand coming to tuck loose strands of hair behind your ear, fingers lingering at the skin of your neck, “To taste you?”

You couldn’t think. 

Couldn’t breathe.

Stuck to the floor as you looked up at the silver haired man whom you now realised was jealous. 

His lilac eye had darkened as he looked down his nose at you, sharp features illuminated harshly by the fire behind him. His lips were pulled into a stiff line, and his chest rose and fell shallowly.

“Well?”

You blinked again, and cleared your throat softly, “No.” You whispered quietly to the room, watched as his brows furrowed in disbelief, “Once I had.” You admitted watching as his jaw ticked, “But that was before I met you. It feels a long time ago, and it was merely a passing thought, one bred by the desire to not be alone.”

At your words, Aemond seemed to relax, his lips softened and brow evened out, though his jaw remained clenched, “And are you alone?”

Your head cocked to the side.

Alone?

But he was standing right with you.

Right in front of you.

“No?”

Aemond huffed a small humourless laugh at your response, clearly you had misunderstood him. 

“Do you feel lonely? With me here?”

You licked your lips, feeling the warmth of his body come closer as he stepped forward, fingers at your neck sliding to the back, tangling themselves into your hair as he pulled you closer. His mouth was a breath apart from yours, his eye on your lips as you heaved uneven lungfuls, waiting for your answer.

You tilted your head upwards, lips brushing against his softly, the feeling sending warmth settling into your gut as you chased his embrace. But Aemond did not let you close the gap, and moved his lips away, awaiting your answer yet again.

As soft as a whisper came your answer.

“Not anymore.”

Aemond’s lips met yours as soon as the words left your mouth, chasing yours in a heated kiss, the hand at the back of your neck tangling in your hair tightly as he pulled you impossibly closer, other arm wrapping around your waist to pull you against him, almost lifting you onto his own feet. 

His lips felt like a breath of fresh air, a fire within you set ablaze with each passing moment. You chased after him as much as he chased after you, your hands desperately pulling his tunic closer to you, neck craned up on your tip toes to reach.

The sailors hands came to the front of your dress, teeth nipping at your bottom lip causing you to gasp. His tongue took advantage of your parted lips, licking into your mouth at the opening. You moaned warmly, feeling his hands pause at the buttons at the front of your dress. You nodded sharply, not willing to part from him to verbally give an answer. 

With practised ease, he began to pull at the buttons one by one, slowly opening the front of your gown. When it was finally undone down to your navel, you parted for air, a wave of realisation crashing over you.

“The lamp.” You breathed breathlessly, rearing your head back to look up at Aemond, night had begun to fall outside.

His eye was half lidded, pupil expanded across the lilac, and a soft pink dusted on his cheeks, “Already lit.” He mumbled before crashing his lips back against yours. 

You made a startled squeak, and wondered briefly when he had had the time to go light it in your absence. But any lingering questioning you had were lost when his large hands scooped under the front of your collarbones and up to your shoulders, slowly sliding the gown down your torso, freeing your arms as he went. 

He stepped back to look over you, goosebumps rising on your skin as his heated gaze roamed over your breasts and body. His lips were pink and swollen from your embrace, and the pupil of his eye expanded.

Feeling a spur of confidence, you undid the small belted laces at the back, letting the heavy dress and skirts fall to the ground beneath you in a puddle.

Aemond was on you in a second, the room tilting as you were suddenly picked up, legs automatically wrapping around Aemond’s hips as he hungrily kissed you, all teeth and tongue and impatience, neediness bleeding through the both of you in a rush of desire.

It was as though wildfire had caught in the space between, and it burnt at you both hotly, the flames licking higher and higher on your bodies, an all consuming need. 

Your need for him burnt.

“Bed.” He murmured into your lips, speedily walking to the room before he dropped you onto the bed with a bounce.

You gazed up at him through your lashes and watched as he pulled his tunic from over his head with one hand in one swift movement, your eyes roaming down his lean body.

Pale littering of scars were on his chest and arms, and your gaze moved lower still to the trail of hair that lead to what was beneath his breeches, the memory of it causing your core to clench around nothing.

Aemond breathed heavily looking down at you before he pulled you to the edge by your feet, a squeak rising from your chest as he loomed over you. 

With haste, Aemond unlaced your boots, throwing them away alongside the stockings he rolled down your legs impatiently. Then came your stays, which did not survive his large, weather worn hands, which tore the laces from their holes, ripping the material at the seams. 

You gasped loudly as he did it, not truly knowing the strength he had hidden, which was then smothered by his wanting mouth, body climbing on top of you as he kissed and nipped sharply at your lips with his teeth, hips pressing down into your own as he ground into you.

Heat settled in your gut with each thrust of his hips, his hardening length brushing against your sensitive pearl each time, sending shooting sparks of pleasure up your spine. The kiss consumed you, heat rising in the room as the both of you gripped and pulled at each other desperately, Aemond only breaking the kiss to pave a path down your neck, stopping every so often to suck or bite at your flesh, marking you which caused you to mewl beneath him. 

He sunk lower and lower on the bed, pulling up your slip with his hands as he settled between your thighs once again, your hands gripping the sheets of the bed as you looked down at him. His eye was already on you, watching your face as he breathed cool breaths against your bare core. 

You whimpered as he blew air onto it, cold on your throbbing bud as he smirked up at you, “Sīr lōz.”, He cooed, swiping two fingers gently up your slit, parting your folds.

A finger pressed down on you, watching with delight as you squirmed beneath him. You bucked your hips up towards his lips shyly as he blew against you again, smirking at how you whimpered and writhed, desperate to alleviate the ache that had been building within since he captured your lips with his. 

“Is something wrong?” Aemond smirked, rubbing his fingers through your folds, but never quite touching you were you needed him.

“Please.” You whispered, hips seeking his fingers desperately.

“Please, what?"

You shut your eyes tightly, embarrassment coursing through you, "Please, Aemond."

The man chuckled gently, pressing a kiss just above where you needed him, watching as your eyes opened to look down at him again.

"Syt ao? Mirros.”

Aemond ducked his head between your thighs, hand on either side of your thighs, holding you open for him as he licked a wide stripe up your centre, tongue flicking against your bud.

Your back arched from the bed, eyes screwed shut as pleasure shot through you. The Targaryen moaned into your folds, beginning to lap at them hungrily, thumbs holding you open for him so that he focused on your pearl. 

“Iksā sīr vok syt nyke.” Aemond groaned, two long fingers finding your entrance, slowly beginning to push inside of you. 

Your breath hitched as they entered, immediately curling up to the soft spongey spot inside of you that he found last time, memorising each and every inch of your body and the reactions that you made when he licked, sucked, pressed or rubbed against it. 

The sounds he made as he lapped at your core was filthy, depraved, and down right ravenous, moaning into your cunt as pleasure wound tightly in your belly, his ministrations slowly but surely pulling you towards the edge, no doubt assisted by his low rumblings in his mother tongue.

“Nyke jorrāelagon ao.” He gasped against your thigh, watching his fingers disappear inside of you as he began to fuck them at a faster pace, wetness coating your thighs and the bed beneath you “Gaomā daor gīmigon ziry,” He kissed at your thigh looking up into your eyes with an intensity that made the breath in your chest still, “Yn iksi vēttan naejot sagon.”

Your hips bucked, one hand releasing the sheets to card through his hair, his lilac eye momentarily shutting as you pulled lightly at the strands, a hum vibrating his chest, “Common tongue, please.”

“More tongue?” Aemond responded cheekily, eyebrow raised at you, and before you could quip back, he was back to using his mouth on you, sucking your pearl into his mouth as his fingers did not slow, the tension in your gut about the break. 

“Oh.” You breathed, mouth open, “Oh Gods. Oh- fucking Hells.” Pleasure raced through you violently, and a long pealing whine flitted from your lips as you reached your peak.

Aemond sucked your bud into his mouth as he flicked his tongue against it, fingers fucking inside of you speedily through it, the wet squelching of your release loud in the room with each thrust of his hand. Your grip in his hair tightened and you pulled, still falling from the precipice he had brought you to, a deep grunt vibrating into your already sensitive core. 

“Aemond- Nng- Please. Slow down.” You whined, writhing as the pleasure soon turned borderline painful, too overstimulated to function.

With a final broad wipe of his tongue, the silver haired man ceased his movements, allowing for your body to finally slump into the pillows, a light sheen of sweat covering you. 

Your eyes slid shut as you huffed a laugh, whimpering lightly when he pulled his fingers from within you. Aemond placed wet kisses to the top of you mound, your hip bones, and then to your stomach which he revealed by pulling your slip up your body. 

Only did your eyes re-open when he kept lifting the slip up over your breasts, his mouth coming down to capture a pert nipple in his mouth. He rolled it with his tongue, teeth lightly holding it in place as he slotted his hips against you once again.

You moaned, hands sliding down his sides to his breeches which were still very much on his hips.

“Off.” You breathed, tugging at his pants, his mouth releasing your nipple with a soft pop.

“Patience, byka perzys.” Little flame, Aemond chuckled, shifting to drag his breeches down his legs, kicking them off the bed along with his boots. 

When he laid back against you, his hands moved to your shift again, pulling it over your head, leaving the two of you bare before each other once again. His head dipped and captured your lips, the taste of yourself on his tongue tart and musky.

Swiftly, Aemond used his thighs to part your own, moving them over the top of his as he lined the hard tip of his cock up with your soaked entrance.

Without pause, Aemond slid inside of you, catching your gasp in his mouth as you stretched around him. There was only the slightest of stings this time, your body far more relaxed than the first time.

The head of his cock pressed against your cervix snugly as he pushed to the hilt, the feeling of fullness spreading within you and up through your gut. You don't think that you could ever get used to such a feeling, such an all encompassing fullness that would forever shock you.

Aemond didn’t wait to give you a chance to adjust, and began to thrust himself through your silky walls immediately, sparks of pleasure beginning rippling up your body. A large hand held your hip, whilst the other buried itself in your hair, tilting your head further back for him to dive his tongue into your mouth, flicking at your own as you messily grabbed and kissed one another.

Feeling yourself begin to jolt up the bed, you lifted your legs and wrapped them around his waist, pulling him deeper and closer to you, desperate whine moving through you as his hips clapped against yours.

It was frenzied, fiery, and with each smack of his hips, you felt your wetness spread against his thighs and hair at the base of his length, his pelvis rubbing against your sensitive nub.

“Sīr ȳrda.” He moaned, head dipping into the crux of your neck, hand on your hip skimming to the globe of your ass, squeezing it as he fucked you harder, grunts spilling from his lips growing louder.

“You feel so good.” You whimpered, hands clawing at his back sharply as you felt a familiar coil within begin to wind again, “Please.”

Aemond raised his head to look down at you, your gaze meeting his. With his thumb, Aemond began to swirl small, wet circles into your pearl, accelerating your oncoming release. The lilac of his eye looked almost black as he lowered his voice to you.

“Take it from me.” 

Pleasure coursed through your veins. Blinding white heat pummelling through you as you reached your peak below him.

“There you go.” He cooed, watching as your release crashed over you.

Aemond tumbled over the edge with you with a cry. Your nails dug into his back as he sped up, looking down intently, mouth slack as he watched you come apart from below, not once breaking your locked gaze.

His forehead pressed into yours as he slowed, the throbbing of his length inside you and warmth of his spend filling you causing a smaller wave of pleasure to race through you, your walls clamping down onto him. Aemond hissed before coming to a stop, the both of you panting heavily, bodies going slack, the weight of him on top bringing you an odd sense of comfort.

Carefully Aemond rolled off of you, his cock sliding out from your sensitive walls as he lay on his back, pulling you into his side to tuck your head beneath his.

You curled into him immediately, as though you had done it a million times before, fitting perfectly at his side. You wrapped an arm around his middle, lifting a leg to hook over his hips, which he held and sooth his his hand. 

Your entire body was buzzing with the after mass of your release, limbs feeling heavier than they once were. The two of you sweaty and satiated, whilst small little huffs of joy breathed into the space as you both fell into a comfortable rest.

 -

Another week goes by, and soon enough, it had been almost a month since Aemond washed ashore on your island. 

Almost a month since the largest storm you had seen raged across the horizon and into the headlands.

Almost a month since you had nursed a man back from death and back to the living.

Almost a month since your heart began to grow fond of the man. 

Almost a month since you had grown content with Aemond’s presence. 

Things had changed again, not in any negative way, but things became more passionate, more heated, more tender.

Aemond would touch you whenever he could, hold you whenever he could, hand pressed against yours. Lips to yours, or your cheek, or forehead, and his his hands would seek you in gentle caresses that would set you alight and wanting for more.

And he always gave you more.

He seemed to be insatiable, never quite getting his fill, and whatever he had awoken inside of you was equal in fever. 

You noted that his personal preference was to be between your thighs, lapping at your folds whenever he could, pulling peak after peak from you whether on your bed, or the couch, against the table or walls or doors or kitchen bench. And even, on one occasion, in the lighthouse, pressed against the bricks with a leg hitched over his shoulder. 

Aemond never seemed to get enough of it, always insisting on it before he would sink himself inside of you. You had asked him why once, and he had flushed, stating that it was to prepare you, but when you had asked again, he said that there was no greater sweetness in all the lands he had travelled to than your, so eloquently put, cunt. 

Not that you minded, in fact, it began to be a favourite pass time of your own. 

When you had woken that morning, it wasn’t to your usual bodily clock, rising before the sun after years of habit, but rather to the warm and wet sensation that prodded and swiped between your legs.

You rose with a moan, and then a deeper one as you found Aemond between your thighs kissing your centre like a man starved. It didn’t take him long to get you to reach your peak, and when you had, he had smiled almost smugly, and stated that that was all he needed to eat for the day.

But the newfound intimacy and exploring each others bodies wasn’t all that you enjoyed in your shifting tides together. Each moment spent with Aemond you learnt more about him. Piece by piece he would reveal new information to you. A new memory, a new story, a new piece of knowledge about the mysterious man that you would itemise and lock away in the back of your mind to create a larger picture of the man in front of you.

You spent hours reading together when not working, for double the hands makes for swift work, and you found that for the first time in your life, you had the ability to sit down, to breathe, to not have every waking moment thinking about the lighthouse and only the lighthouse. And in those moments of breath and thought, you realised how much you truly had been missing out on in life. 

You had thought you had been content alone, but the more time you spent with him, the more time you spent reading or hearing about his own adventures, you realised, much to your dismay, how you longed to do the same. But you couldn’t ever leave, for no-one would man the lighthouse after you, at least no-one you would know to be so proficient. Unless it was William himself, but he had a wife and daughters and a job of his own, and you would never ask him to do such a thing for your selfish wants and imagination.

And so you were content in savouring each moment you had with the sailor whilst he was still there, laughing loudly over whiskey as he told you of a story of his older brother losing a wooden sword match with one of his nephews, or another time in which his brother Aegon had grown so drunk at a family event, that two maids had to assist him to bed, dropping him halfway up the stairs as they went.

You learnt that his sister, Helaena, was a sweet and gentle woman with a soft and kind heart. She had, what he called, a nervous or paranoid disposition, and often believed her dreams that things were to happen, the family taking no notice to her fretting. Though he did note, with an ashen face, that she had warned him once about a danger beneath the eye. 

Had she meant the eye he lost?

Or the eye of the storm which led to his ships demise, and almost his own?

Aemond did not know.

His mother, you learnt, Alicent, was a stern and pious woman, heavily religious and intent on him performing his duties and marrying a young Lady from a neighbouring land. Though at times she seemed to be somewhat overbearing and traditional in his retellings, when he spoke of her, there was a deep fondness in his eye, and it made you all the more disappointed in yourself for having kept him away from them.

During his stay, Aemond kept his promise to you, teaching you what he could of High Valyrian when you had the chance. It was a struggle to start, but you picked it up quicker than you had thought you would. 

He would praise you for your pronunciation, which only led you to want to do better for him, his words of affirmation doing something to your heart and body, which resulted in you mumbling words and phrases beneath your breath every chance you had to perfect them. 

You also learnt that he had an older sister, estranged, not talked about and something that was clearly a taboo for the sailor, but when he did mention her, it was to note that her High Valyrian was more advanced as their father had spent ample time teaching her, but not his four other children.

Aemond was, for the most part, self taught, besides the help of a lone tutor which Aemond noted was poorly. 

Each time he shared a piece of himself to you, your heart longed to go with him, to see the famed Keep where his family resided. To meet his mother Alicent who was such an important person in his life, as well as his sister Helaena. You wished to meet Aegon, to see if he truly was as bumbling as Aemond had told you. 

You wished to see the foods they had, imported from foreign lands you couldn’t pronounce, to walk the Gardens of the Keep, to see the ashen barked Weirwood tree in his Godswood, to try a starfruit, which Aemond had a craving for almost every second day, the shape and flavour a wonder to you. 

You wished to be a part of his life, a part of his family, and a tiny, foolish part of you thought that perhaps you could. But the more rational side knew that it could not be, that you were of low rank, and you could not leave the lighthouse unmanned, and as each day passed with this heavy revelation, came the looming of a dark cloud above you.

-

The fresh scones you had made were still soft and fresh, Celia’s jam spread thickly on top as a treat for the both of you that morning. The cottage was cold, but the heat of the fire radiated warmth around the two of you, a subtle wind whistling past the windows outside. 

Despite the bright mood the two of you had, started by Aemond waking you up between your thighs, that cloud still loomed over the top of you, dread and anticipation of what was to come nipping at you like a hound.

“Celia makes great jam. I should like to thank her one day.” Aemond hummed, popping a small broken piece of scone into his mouth to chew, licking the jam off the pad of his thumb after he swallowed.

You nodded, smiling, though it didn’t reach your eyes, “You should thank her yourself in person. I am sure she would like to meet a real Targaryen.”

His eye searched your face, “One day.”

“But when?” You swallowed, preparing your speech which you had practiced over and over in a loop in your head, finding some way that would make him want to stay, to make him want you.

The silver haired man frowned, placing the rest of his scone on his plate as he sat himself straighter, “When?”

“Yes. When.” The lump in your throat grew larger with each passing second, “You have a family, duties, a life. Your mother must be beside herself with worry and grief, and I fear that I am taking you from that. I fear I am creating pain for you all.”

“Taking me?” Aemond sounded confused, eye swiftly searching your face as you straightened in your chair.

“I do not wish to…force you to stay here, or corrupt you into thinking I could be anything other than this.” You watched as his frown deepened, lips pulling into a thin line, “I cannot keep you here as much as I wish to.”

His frown softened, “You wish for me to stay?”

“Kessa.” (Yes) You said quietly, “But I know it is not the reality we live in. You are a Lord, I am-“

“-Why do you always bring up my rank?”

“Because it means something. If your family found out that you have been here, with someone like me, the talk alone could ruin your potential list of decent wives. Your future. I fear I have already tainted-“

“-Tainted?”

“Yes, I-“

“-Why do you believe yourself to ever be capable of tainting me?” Aemond’s voice was stern, colder than before, as though angry at your words. You looked down at the table shyly, focusing on the scone smeared with jam.

“You do not think you could stay here forever, do you?”

Aemond huffed air through his nose, “I can do whatever I like. Go where I please, see who I wish. For now, my family believes me to be dead, and even if I was known to be hale and healthy, I can still do as I please.”

“But your mother-“

“-My mother,” Aemond began, voice softening, “Will one day come to understand.”

You shook your head, confusion coursing through you, “I don’t understand.”

Aemond’s jaw tensed, teeth pressing sharply against each other before he adjusted himself to sit even more impossibly straighter, “Do you believe in the Gods?”

Your eyebrows knitted together, “Of course. I would not have prayed to them if I did not.”

“Then you must believe the Gods control our paths and fate.”

Paths and fate?

What was he talking about?

“Yes, I believe so. But I don’t understand what the Gods have to do with you needing to go home.”

Aemond took a deep breath through his nose, his hand on the table as fingers flexed and then curled back into a fist, dropping into his lap out of sight, “My ship sunk for a reason. I do not believe that it happened without purpose. I drowned and came back for a reason. You prayed to the Gods to save me, and they did.” His tongue peeked out of his lips to wet them, and your heart began to race in your chest, “The Gods gave me a second chance at life and brought me straight to you.” He shook his head, silver locks falling over his shoulders, “Before you, I was unhappy, but with you? I have never been so content. So… at peace.”

Tears prickled at your eyes, your own hands twisting in your lap, “Please do not say such things to me, Sir. My heart cannot bear it.”

Aemond leant forward, “But it is the truth. And mine own heart cannot bear the thought of leaving here. Of leaving you.”

A tear fell from your eye, sliding wetly down your cheek as you looked at him, his figure blurred in your vision, “You cannot want me.”

“I can. And I do.”

A sob fell from your lips as you looked at him, “This is cruelty, Aemond. You cannot- You can’t- Your family would never allow it. You cannot say these things to me, do not give me false hope. Do not give me reason to believe.”

Aemond's hand lifted on top of the table, palm up, offered to you. 

You looked at his palm, and the soft smooth skin there, and wished to mark it. You wished to mark him so that he could never leave, so that he could never be without you without evidence of you existing.

“False hope would be to say that I could ever leave here with my heart intact.” His hand waited for you on the table, “Please.”

Another tear fell from your cheek, “You cannot want a life like this. You cannot want a life with me. I have no money, I cannot ever leave, I would never trap you here with me.”

“You could never trap me in the first place. I am yours.”

I am yours.

Another sob fell from your lips, chest aching at the thought of losing him, at the thought of him leaving you. That this declaration would be for naught, that he had not truly thought this over, but deep inside of you, you hoped, dreamed, begged the Gods for his words to be true.

Aemond’s hand slid off the table and back into his lap as he stared at you, silence creeping across the table.

“I am just as much yours. Irrevocably.” You breathed, watching as relief flooded Aemond’s face, “But I cannot ask this of you. Not when you lose so much if you do.”

Aemond stood from his seat, swiftly coming towards you where he knelt in front of you, forcefully taking your hand in his as he looked up into your tear filled eyes. His thumb brushed over your knuckles soothingly, his other hand briefly coming to swipe a tear from your cheek before meeting the other that held yours.

“You are not asking me to do anything, byka perzys.” His words came swiftly, eye searching your face as tear after tear fell down your cheeks, “And if you were, I would do it. A thousands times over, I would do it. If you asked me to walk back into the sea, I would do it. For you, I would do it.”

“Aemond,” You shook your head sadly, mouth opening again to argue, but he interrupted you.

“-I want to stay.” His hands gripped yours tighter, “Here. With you. I want to be with you. Always.” He swallowed thickly, “If you’ll have me.”

Your blood thumped loudly in your ears as you looked at him. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t speak, mind going a thousand miles an hour. 

He wanted to stay.

He wanted to stay here.

With you.

“Please do not turn me away. The fate of the seas would be kinder.” His voice cracked, and your heart ached.

There was no turning back, no moving from this conversation without an outcome. 

It all just depended on which path you wished to go. Which path your heart ached for most, and that was for him to stay. But would it come without consequences? Would his decision to stay be a mistake he would come to resent you for? 

You had nothing to lose, he had everything to.

But the way he was looking at you, the way he was patiently and nervously awaiting your answer, watching as tears continued to fall from your eyes, not just out of grief, but sheer overwhelming love for the man knelt before you, offering all that he was, sacrificing all that he had, and for you.

A small smile cracked on your lips, and you watched as his eye became hopeful. Your hand lifted to his cheek, caressing it softly to cup his jaw as you looked him over; his lilac eye, the sharp aquiline of his nose, the way his plump lips pulled sharply at its peaks. Never in your dreams could you have imagined such a man, and never in your life did you think to imagine that a man such as him could be yours.

And it was in that moment that you made your decision.

You smiled, small sobbing laugh escaping your lips as you rubbed a thumb against his skin, feeling the smooth stubble beneath it, “The Gods brought you to me.” You whispered, eyes searching his face for any sign of regret or trepidation, and when you found none, you continued, “Who am I to turn you away?”

And there it was, that full smile that you had grown to love. 

Aemond’s lips pulled widely revealing his teeth as he beamed up at you. 

Never had you felt such joy, such elation inside of you at the sight, your heart feeling as though it became full, a fire settling into your chest raging as it always did with him, for he always made it feel as though he set you alight.

“Avy jorrāelan.” Aemond declared softly with a smile, his eyes crinkling in the corners, lilac dancing with admiration, the unseeing eye reflecting the light of the sun outside like a cloudy morning sky. 

He sat up on his knees and leant forward, face coming towards you before his eye shut, and his lips met yours in a passionate kiss. Your hands grabbed his face, and he did yours, diving his fingers into your hair, holding you to him gently as he slowly sought your lips with his own. 

It was not rushed, it was not frantic, but patient, the both of you knowing that you were no longer running on limited time. No longer stealing moments together before the end.

No longer was there a looming departure of his presence in your life, and as though a breeze from outside swept inside the house, the dark looming cloud that had situated itself above you cleared.

When finally did you part, breathless and giddy, a curiosity took over.

“What does that mean?” You questioned, burning desire to know eating away at you, “What you said?”

And there was that smile once more, and you knew in your heart what it meant after that.

“You will know soon enough.”

Translations:

Sīr lōz - So wet

Syt ao? Mirros - For you? Anything

Iksā sīr vok syt nyke - You are so perfect for me

Nyke jorrāelagon ao. I need you

Gaomā daor gīmigon ziry, Yn iksi vēttan naejot sagon - You do not know it, but we are made to be.

Sīr ȳrda - So tight

Avy jorrāelan - I love you

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the general tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

Tag List:

@blackswxnn @marihoneywk @targaryenrealnessdarling @namelesslosers @aemondsfavouritebastard @dahlias-and-marigolds @aemondsbabygirl @toodlesxcuddles @jemmaagentofshield @malfoytargaryen @bellaisasleep @aaprilshowers @assortedseaglass @elizarbell @xpersephonex @lijeno @likeanecho344 @coffeeobsessedtrencher @diannnnsss @lexwolfhale @notasockpuppetaccount @at-a-rax-ia @spinachtz@marysucks-blog @generalkenobitrash @zenka69 @shygardengalaxy-blog @kittendoll05 @300nightmare003

#aemond x reader #aemond targaryen fanfic #hotd #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen fic #aemond #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond x y/n #hotd fanfic #lighthouse!Aemond #asumofwords lighthouse #sailor!aemond #LighthouseKeeper!reader #sailor!Aemond x reader #Sailor!Aemond #LighthouseKeeper!Reader #Asumofwords Lighthouse #shipwreck!aemond

[countryclubkook]

Him or Me

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x fem!Thornton!Reader

Warnings: language, topper being a slight asshole, small mention of parent death and absent parent, not proof read so potential grammatical errors, slightly ooc/fanon Rafe I think that’s all but please let me know if there’s anymore I should add

Summary: when Topper finds out his best friend Rafe is secretly dating his sister behind his back, all hell breaks loose. Will they be able fix their relationship? Or will the betrayal be too much to recover from?

A/N: This is the first story i’ve written in months so i’m still a little rusty. I wanted to get something out though to get back into the groove of things. Italicized means flashback, this also is meant to take place in season 1 after Sarah and John B are together so I hope you all enjoy🤍 I left the ending of this slightly open for a potential part two if people want it/I decide to write one (Topper is 19 and reader is 18 for the sake of this story, Rafe is his canon age in the show)

“You know I’ll take care of you right?” he spoke with such certainty. How could you not believe him?

It was never supposed to be this way, you and your brother's best friend being together, but when he gave you those bedroom eyes and whispered those sweet nothings in your ear how could you resist? The both of you kept it a secret from Topper as long as you could knowing his overprotective nature when it came to you. He had found out when he saw the two of you kissing at the country club, that was a bad night for the three of you.

“My fucking sister dude? Are you kidding me? You could have any girl on this island but you go after my sister?” the vein on his neck popping out as he screamed at Rafe. Neither of you had expected him to be home, let alone for him to be waiting in the living room for you two to come back. As soon as Rafe stepped into the door he was thrown against the wall by his neck, a very angry Topper staring at him with pure hatred.

“Topper stop, let him go. Please.” you pleaded with him but it was no use, his grip stayed the same and he acted as if you weren't there. They were in their own world at that moment.

“Fucking relax man, I chose her for a reason. I love her, and you're not going to stop me from seeing her. So if you're going to hit me and tell me to stay away from her, do it so we can get this over with.” he was visibly annoyed by this as his tone confirmed it. Sure they were friends, but you meant more to Rafe than anyone else so your big brother trying to prevent your relationship was simply just an inconvenience that had no real effect at all.

The two men stared at each other for a moment, nostrils flaring and veins so visible you were getting concerned about their health. It wasn't until Topper let go of Rafe with a small scoff that you felt you could breathe again. You've never felt more shitty in your whole life than you did when Topper looked at you with such betrayal and hurt. He just shook his head and stormed out of the house, the front door slamming behind him.

“Are you okay? I'm so sorry, I didn't know he would be here” you say as you rush over to him and examine his neck that was now red (and would inevitably bruise) from the grip Topper had on it. He watched as you examined him with such worry and such a gentle touch that it reminded him yet again why he was with you, that you were worth whatever argument ensued because you showed him love nobody else would.

“Baby, I'll be fine. I'm more worried about you being okay than my neck.” grabbing the sides of your face and forcing you to look at him. Your eyes were glossy with tears and your breathing slightly uneven. Your relationship with Topper was different than the one Rafe had with his sisters, it had always just been the two of you since you were growing up. Your dad had died when you were babies and your mom was a piece of shit who was never around so that left the two of you to protect and raise each other. Hurting him felt like the biggest stab in the chest and you felt terrible.

“I-” your sobs overpowered your voice before you could finish as you broke down in your lover's arms. His shushed comfort helped bring you some peace but not nearly enough to stop the feeling in your chest from growing. He had moved you over to the couch and held you in his lap until your cries eventually stopped and your breathing remained calm.

“Baby?” he asked quietly in case you had fallen asleep. When he got no response, he gently laid you on the couch and covered you with a blanket before kissing your cheek and heading out to find your brother. Rafe was probably the last person he wanted to see but he would try to talk to him for you.

That “talk” didn't go very well. You didn't know what was said, all you know is that Topper came home bloodied and bruised and didn't say a word to you. It didn't take a genius to put two and two together when you saw Rafes bruised knuckles the next day and his excuse was that he “wanted to try boxing without his gloves”. But a few weeks had passed since then and you thought it would be fine, you and Top would go back to normal and eventually he and Rafe would reconcile like nothing ever happened. If only it was that easy.

Topper had grown increasingly hostile toward you when he decided to acknowledge your existence. His responses were always short and snappy like you were the most horrible person to be speaking with. You knew the only way of fixing this was breaking up with Rafe but there was no way in hell you were doing that so you instead just tried to give him space when you could. But one day he decided that ignoring each other wasn't enough, he needed you to know your options.

‘We need to talk’ one text that always has the ability to make your heart race. You stare at it for 10 minutes trying to figure out the right response before you type back a simple ‘Okay’, his next text telling you he’d meet you at the house in ten minutes. You felt like throwing up and your anxiety was through the roof. You knew what he wanted to talk about, that's what made you nervous. It felt like hours had passed when you finally heard the front door open and heavy footsteps approach the kitchen. Your heartbeat had become very quick when he came into your peripheral vision.

“Hi” a simple word used to greet people now had a more hostile meaning behind it. You finally looked up to see him but he was already looking at you. He still had that same look in his eyes he had that day. Betrayal, disgust, anger, every emotion you had hoped you'd never see him have towards you.

“Hi” your voice much smaller as you tried to avoid his hard gaze. An awkward silence passed for a few moments before he finally spoke again. There was clearly no small talk to be made so it was now or never.

“I'm giving you two options, and I never thought I'd have to say this to you of all people but I guess you really can't trust everyone. I understand you think you love Rafe and that he loves you, but you don't know him like me. Rafe Cameron doesn't ever love someone, he uses them to his advantage until he no longer needs them around and then he leaves them in the dirt. I'm not staying around to watch that happen to you so it's him or me.” his voice was stern, there was no hesitation in his words. He meant every last thing he had just told you.

You stared at him for a moment trying to process what you just heard, did he really just give you an ultimatum? You half expected him to laugh and tell you he was just fucking with you, that he was still upset you hadn't told him but as long as you were happy so was he, but that moment never came. Instead, he continued to stare at you with a pierced gaze waiting for your response.

“Are you serious right now Top?” you chuckled in disbelief. There was no way this was happening right now.

“As serious as a heart attack” no hint of amusement in his voice. Your emotion quickly changed from guilt to anger as his words finally registered.

“You have no right to do that. None. Rafe and I do love each other, we don't think that. You don't know our relationship and this was exactly why we didn't want you finding out. I'm not a baby anymore Topper. I'm a big girl and I can make my own decisions about things, including who I date. If that backfires that's on me and I learn from it. You don't get to decide that for me.” your face had turned red and you felt hot. How dare he make you choose between them.

“Y/N you don't understand okay? I know how he works, I've seen it happen. He's only going to hurt you when-” he tried to argue but you cut him off.

“No. You don't understand. He treats me better than anyone else ever has, he makes me feel loved. You don't know anything about love, that's why your girlfriend cheated on you with a fucking pogue.” his face fell at the comment. You knew it was harsh and uncalled for but you were too upset to care.

“Fuck you Y/N. I'm giving you one last chance to make the right choice” you knew he meant that.

“Fine. You want me to choose so badly? I choose him, I'll always choose him.” your breathing was heavy as you yelled at him. There was no taking it back now so you could only hope it didn't end badly for you.

“Okay” he scoffed “just don't come crying to me when he breaks your heart. You mean nothing to me anymore” he spoke with such disgust that it took everything in you not to cry.

“I won't. He's never going to do that to me” you spoke to him with the same voice he had spoken to you. The two of you staring at each other with anger and a look of disbelief that this had happened to you. Topper gave one last shake of his head before going up the stairs to what you thought was his room. It wasn't until you heard a loud thud a few minutes later that you realized he was in yours.

One by one, bags and boxes of your things came flying down the stairs. Topper was standing at the top with his arms crossed and a satisfied look on his face.

“You want to be with him so bad you can go stay with him. I don't want a lying whore living with me.” his words hurt you more than would ever admit but you swallowed your tears and began packing your car with your things, getting in and starting the car to drive to Rafes once the last thing was thrown in.

He hadn't expected to see your text but all he could do was worry when you’d told him you were on your way to him. The only thing comforting him was pacing around the room and thinking of all the ways he could try and help you. He heard your call pull up and almost broke the door getting to you and his heart shattered when he saw you. Tears streamed down your face, eyes red and puffy, you looked destroyed.

As soon as you were in his arms you broke down, the both of you falling to the ground as your sobs echoed in the warm air. The familiar smell of Rafe's cologne made you feel safe, a feeling you hadn't fully felt since Rafe and Topper's fight. It felt like you were finally home and could relax, the war was over and you could just live again.

“Shh baby it's okay, you're safe now. I've got you” he said as he rested his head on top of yours and wrapped his arms around you tightly. There wasn't much that could be said to help you feel better about the situation but knowing you weren't alone did help to make you feel good. Topper was just jealous he didn't have this type of love with Sarah.

You'd finally calmed down enough to unload your things into Rafe's room. Ward adored you so letting you stay with them was absolutely no issue which you were so thankful for.

Hours had passed and your tears had long stopped. You had taken a nice long shower and now you were in bed with Rafe, it felt natural to you. He gave you a small nudge to get your attention and your eyes met his. He had a slight smirk on his face.

“What? Do I have something on my face” your eyes widening slightly worried you had forgotten to wipe some makeup off your face.

“No no it's not that, it's just… I could get used to this you know? It feels right” his voice was much softer now.

“It does, doesn't it? Maybe this whole situation isn't so bad after all” it was very bad, but maybe you could convince yourself otherwise if you said it enough.

Rafe could see you thinking about the situation again despite what you'd just said so he grabbed your face to hold it in place. His eyes never leaving yours for a second.

“You know I'll take care of you right?” and you had no doubt he would, fuck Topper. You just needed Rafe. He would never betray you like Topper, he would never hurt you the way your brother did. He loved you.

“I know” you smiled sweetly at him before giving him a soft kiss, both of you enjoying the moment of peace before pulling away to turn the lights off. Sleep slowly engulfing you as you relaxed into the others touch. This is how it was meant to be.

If only you knew exactly what getting involved with Rafe Cameron would turn into.

#rafe cameron imagine #rafe obx #rafe cameron x thornton!reader #rafe cameron x kook!reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fluff #obx angst #obx imagine

[for-fucks-sake-h]

Wet Dream

Rated: M, mature || Word Count: 3.7k 

The party was dying down slowly.  People going off into smaller groups and then eventually starting to head out, giving their thanks to him for a great night.  There were always the few friends that lingered, an unspoken invitation to stay as long as they wanted.  

He was giving hugs to a few at his front door, wishing them a safe drive and a request for a text that they were home before shutting the door and leaning against it briefly, exhaling a low breath.  The introvert in him was scratching its way out.  So much socializing in what seemed like so little time always got the best of him towards the end of a good night.  

He passed the inevitable friend asleep on his sofa as he walked back through the house, noticed the light coming from the back patio as a few passed a joint around, but the house was otherwise quiet.  A few soft whispers came from outside, but that was it.  

So when he walked into the kitchen to find you sitting at his island, your back to him, he couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth. Plates had disappeared from the counters, trash thrown away and a familiar lemon scent wafted in the air before he noticed the sound of the dishwasher running and the small strawberry shaped magnet that read CLEAN was flipped right side up.  

“Didn’t have to do that,” he said as he made his way closer to you.  

Your eyes met him with warmth, your skin glowing against the candle in the center of the counter, the only other dim light in the kitchen coming from the under cabinet lighting.   

“If I didn’t want to, I wouldn’t,” you said simply.    

If that statement didn’t sum you up, Harry wasn’t sure what could. That really was just how you were. He learned quickly that you didn’t go out of your way for just anyone. Your closest friends had that side of you reserved for them only.  Thinking back to when he first met you, how practically cold you came across, compared to how he knew you now, was something he honestly cherished. You were a good friend – someone he could count on, someone he genuinely enjoyed spending his time with.            

He sat beside you quietly, elbows propped up on the edge of the counter as you took a sip from your wine glass.  

“Put the leftover guac in the fridge for you.” 

“You’re seriously the best,” he chuckled. “It’s so fucking good. Thank you.”   

You laughed at how animated he was, appreciating how much he enjoyed something so simple. “Told you I’d make double for you.”  

“I know,” he nodded, blinking slowly. “Appreciate you making it for me.” 

He looked you over for a moment, almost seeming like he had more to say before you were interrupted.       

“H? We're gonna head out man.”  

Ever the host, Harry was immediately rising from his stool to hug his friends, his cologne clinging in the air around you even after he moved away.  You watched him momentarily as he said his goodbyes, eyes drawn to the way his t shirt stretched across his back as he gave his goodbye hugs, before bringing your eyes back to the nearly empty wine glass in front of you, just to tip the rest back.   

And then suddenly Harry was across from you, leaning down to grab another bottle of wine from the small fridge tucked away in the island.     

“I should probably call an uber,” you announced as you slid your empty glass toward the center of the island.  

He stood with the neck of the bottle gripped tightly in his fist, eyes meeting yours from across the large counter.        

“You sure? Was gonna join you.” 

He turned away from you just to swipe a wine glass from the opposite counter. When he turned back to you, he had an expectant look on his face as he lifted his wine bottle and glass filled hands as if to say “well?”.  

“Unless you’re tired…” he trailed off in question which immediately received a shake of your head.  

“Nah, I’m good. Just don’t want to overstay my welcome.”  

You got a look from him at that, his face saying everything his mouth didn’t.  A small laugh slipped from your lips as you wordlessly slid your glass closer to him.  He set his beside yours, filling them both, the only sound in the room being the clug of the wine falling from the bottle.  

“Come on,” he nodded towards the doorway as he pushed the cork in, encouraging you to follow him when he lifted both glasses from the counter.     

The lights in the living room were dimmed too, and a soft purple glow came from behind his TV.  There was music still coming from somewhere that he promptly lowered a few decibels with a remote that you hadn’t noticed sitting on the cushioned ottoman in front of the couch.   

He sat down first, waiting to hand you your glass until you were situated beside him, your legs tucked under you on the cushion, your arm draped across the back of the sofa as you faced him.  The clinking cheers of your wine glasses had you both settling back as you took your respective sips, both of you seeming to sink into the furniture more after doing so.  

“This is so good,” you hummed before taking another sip of the sweet red.  

“It’s my favorite,” Harry agreed. “Glenn got me a case for Christmas.”  

“Of course she did,” you laughed, watching him take another swig before resting the base of the glass on his thigh. “Oh, what was up with Lisa’s date?”  

His eyebrows raised slightly. “Yeah, I don’t know. Kinda strange. I don’t think they’ve been seeing each other very long. Surprised she brought him to be honest.”  

“At one point he asked me where Gary’s bathroom was.” 

“Stop,” Harry laughed, his eyes widening.  

“I swear it took everything inside me not to ask who the fuck Gary was.”  

“What did you say?” he chuckled.   

“I just said ‘Harry’s bathroom is down the hall on the right’, which got an… interesting look in return.”   

You couldn’t help your laugh as you watched Harry giggle to himself as he shook his head in disbelief. “Yeah,” Harry signed. “I mean, every time I saw her she was laughing at whatever he was saying.”  

“I don’t believe for a second that guy was that funny,” you deadpanned.  

Harry gave you a pleading look at that. “Brutal,” he laughed.  

“I just wish she didn’t waste her time with all these pretentious douchebags.”  

“I guess she’s looking for something,” he shrugged. 

“A headache maybe,” you mumbled into your glass before taking a long, slow sip.  

“I don’t know what she’s looking for,” Harry conceded. “Seems like since her and Frank split she's just buying her time.”  

“Sounds terrible.”  

“Maybe to you,” Harry laughed. “Maybe that’s exactly what she wants right now though. Her and Frank were messy.” He shook his head, as if remembering. “Maybe something fun and easy is all she wants.”  

“Think I would rather be alone after all that,” you pondered softly.  

“Yeah, but being alone gets… lonely.”  Harry exhaled a deep breath at that, eyes cast down on his glass.    

“Do you get lonely?”  The question slipped out without a second thought, and your cheeks warmed as soon as it passed your lips.  

“Sometimes,” he answered honestly.  

“Maybe you should take a lesson from Lisa’s book,” you suggested, watching his jaw tick as he lifted his glass to his lips once more before placing it down on the tray that sat on the ottoman. “Fun and easy, you know?”  

“Except that it’s not that easy.”  

“How so?”  

“I don’t know…” he tipped his head back in a stretch, his neck bobbing slightly as he swallowed. “Random hook ups are one thing. But for it to be a regular thing? That never ends up being easy.”  

You nodded. “That’s true.”  

“Do you?” he asked after a moment.  

“Do I what?” 

“Get lonely.”  

You sucked in a deep breath, the air in the room seeming to change slightly with the conversation.  “Everyone does at some point, right?”  

“Are you now?” 

“Not at this very moment,” you chuckled softly.  

He smiled at that, watching you intently, as if he was trying to read your mind. Except that your mind felt empty as your heart ricocheted against your chest.  You could feel the warmth of his knee where it rested right beside yours, the tiniest movement needed to press against him. His eyes were dilated from the dim room and the wine, and he had the slightest flush to his cheeks that shouldn’t have been as attractive as it was.  

“That’s true,” he agreed. “It’ll be the worst later, you know, when I'm actually alone.”  

And you knew what he meant. You felt that too. The familiar yearning of just wanting someone near, the intimacy that came with sharing a bed with someone, feeling their skin pressed against yours as you fell asleep.  There was something to that – something comforting.

“God, it’s been so long,” Harry laughed softly as he stretched back once more, the heels of his palms digging into his eyes. 

“Me too,” you nodded, finishing off your wine with a dramatic tip of your head.  

“Yeah?” he asked softly, turning his head to look at you.

You caught his eyes as you lowered your empty glass to your lap, scanning his face briefly. All you saw was comfort, and… desire, and lips that looked like they would be really, really nice to kiss.  

Without any extra thought, and despite everything you’d both just said, you found yourself leaning closer to him. A momentary hesitation had you pausing just out of reach, barely a breath away, but then Harry’s hand lifted to tug you by the back of your neck to meet his waiting mouth. 

His lips were smooth and warm and encompassing in a way that had you easily melting into him.  His fingers flexed at the back of your head, almost as if they were grappling to help him hold onto reality as his mouth opened for you, the taste of wine and him invading all your senses. A shiver ran down your spine when his tongue timidly met yours, your neck and cheeks burning with desire.  

“Fuck,” he pulled away abruptly, as if he had just realized what he was doing.  

You stayed perfectly still, mouth hanging open slightly in surprise as you looked at him.  His fingers flexed against your neck again, his eyes devouring yours before flicking across different parts of your face in disbelief.  

But then his mouth was on yours again and his other arm was wrapping around your waist to tug you into him and all you could do was reciprocate.  His lips were so needy, pulling kiss after kiss from yours, and yet you felt like you needed more. Like you could beg him for more and it still wouldn’t feel like enough.   

He was blindly taking your empty wine glass from your hand without removing his mouth from yours, and then haphazardly tried to set it down without success.  He broke away from you so quickly, your head spinning as you watched him turn to set it down on the small table beside the arm of the couch before turning back and tugging you into him fully. A soft moan escaped you when his mouth met your cheek, then your jaw, then your neck as he pulled you closer until you were practically in his lap.  

Your fingers threaded through his hair as warm hands slid down your sides to grip onto the outside of your thighs, squeezing roughly before he pulled your leg across his lap.  His arms wrapped around you tightly, pulling your body flush to his as you settled in his lap, the ache in your core fully taking over.  

His feverish mouth traveled up your neck until his lips met yours with a soft groan, the sound alone setting your skin on fire as you sunk into him more, needing to be closer.  Your fingers flexed in his hair as you ground your hips into his, receiving the same sort of pleasure filled sound to slip up his throat. It was intoxicating. He was intoxicating. His taste and warmth and sounds made your head feel cloudy in the best way as your core thrummed in need, that desire pooling at the bottom of your stomach to leave the most delicious ache. Your body begged for him. You simply could not get enough. 

His hands gripped your hips, tugging you down against the hard length of him straining against his pants. It was like everything he did set you on fire more.  

“You’re insane,” he murmured against your lips between frantic kisses.  

“Me?” He couldn’t possibly be serious. “You are.”  

“I feel crazy.” His lips pressed to your cheek gently before coming back to your mouth, your soft sigh meeting him when his teeth closed around your bottom lip.  

“Because you’ve thought about this before?” You ventured, scratching your nails down his shoulders until you could squeeze his biceps.  

“How did you –”

Your mouth meeting his neck in a soft suck cut him off, his breath catching in his throat as you licked and bit his warm skin.  You couldn’t help your other hand as it stroked the opposite side of his throat, his pulse ricocheting against your fingers. It felt like his heart was about to beat out of his body, pounding against his skin as if looking for a way out.  

“Could feel it,” you admitted softly against his pulse point, pressing a kiss there just so you could feel the thrumming of it against your lips. “I don’t know. Just… could tell.”  

He squeezed your hips harder still, pulling you closer against him, not even a centimeter of space between your bodies and yet still didn’t feel close enough.  His chest was heaving against yours, hips arching up against his will, dying to relieve some of the ache.  

“You don’t even want to know how many times I’ve imagined this.” He murmured his confession up to the ceiling, his voice just above a whisper. “Killing me.”  

You trailed kisses up his throat, your fingers easily finding their way back into his hair, your nails scratching against his scalp before tightening your handfuls.  Mostly to get that sound to slip past his pretty mouth again, but also to feel like you were holding yourself steady.  And you did, you got to hear and taste that noise as you kissed him again.  

“What’d you think about?” You prompted against his lips.  

He groaned softly, as if he was actually in pain. Maybe he was a bit. Maybe you were too. That feeling of wanting someone so badly you really did feel crazy with it. Like you knew you wouldn’t be able to catch your breath until you have them, until you satisfy that insistent need.       

You hummed softly in question, encouraging, needing to hear him talk. Dying for him to share whatever thoughts about you have been plaguing him.   

“Everything.”  The word rolled off his tongue so slowly you moaned softly in response.  Just one word and yet it held so much. “How you’d feel. What you’d sound like. If you’d get wet for me.”  His voice, every single word, caressed your skin the same way his hands did. “Thought about… how you might taste,” he continued, voice low and gravely. “Your mouth and your cunt.”  

You whined at that, kissing him again as you rolled your hips over his.  

“Thought about you touching yourself,” he admitted softly. “For me… because of me… the way I have for you.” You squeezed his hair tighter in your fists as his hands roamed down your back until he could grip your ass. He breathed even more roughly for a moment, hesitating before he spoke again. “You should show me.”  

You nodded immediately, pressing your forehead to his as you did so.  And when he kissed you again, slower this time, savoring you and igniting you on fire even more, all you could think was that you were going to eat him alive.  

His fingers slipped into the waistband of your pants, tugging gently as you sat up on your knees fully.  Your hands met his and helped ease your pants down your thighs before you were moving off him to the couch cushion as he pulled them the rest of the way down your legs.  He was gentle as he pulled them from your ankles, pulling your leg towards him to press the softest kiss to the inside of your calf as you eased back into the couch.  

A nervous thrill went through you as his fingers trailed up and down your leg in a soothing pass, eyes intent on yours. He stopped his movement as your hand trailed over your thigh, your fingers brushing his momentarily before you trailed up and up, until lace met your fingertips.  

He was completely immersed in you, watching your face and every intimate detail as that building pleasure washed over your features. The movement of your hand slipping beneath the lace caught his attention, glancing down and up to your face again, back and forth as you moaned and arched your hips up.  

“Fuck,” he exhaled in a long breath.  

And you were on fire, so turned on you could feel the simmering heat of it low in your belly as your fingers barely grazed your clit.  

“Show me,” he encouraged softly. “Let me see you.” 

His voice gave away how absolutely wrecked he was over this… you. 

You stopped to tug your underwear off, and Harry was immediately reaching to help pull them the rest of the way down, groaning deep in his throat as he watched you open your legs for him.

“Fuck.” He groaned in disbelief as he watched you touch yourself. Watched the way your fingers slid through your folds, watched your wetness glisten off them, watched you do to yourself exactly what he wanted to do to you.  

For you. What he wanted to do for you. God, he just wanted to make you feel good. For you and for himself.  

“Please let me taste you,” he whispered, the words practically tumbling from his lips.  

“Yes.”  

And it was like you shifted down when he shifted up and then his mouth was on you, his groan meeting your sensitive skin the same moment his tongue did.  

You couldn’t help your moan, or the way you nearly pulled yourself up the length of the couch, overwhelmed with the feel of his mouth on you.  But he followed, shifting up until he was laying on his stomach, arms draped on either side of your thighs once he tugged your legs over his broad shoulders, fingers gripping into your hips so tightly you couldn’t have moved even if you wanted to.  

“Oh my god,” you breathed, back arching off the couch as he devoured you, leaving you with no time to catch your breath as his tongue flicked over and over again. His tongue dipped inside you without preamble, his nose taking place against your clit as he tasted you fully. It was the most heavenly thing you’d ever felt, and the shocks of pleasure were almost unbearable. But then his hand joined the delicious torture, a finger tracing your entrance before easing inside you slowly, his tongue steady on your clit once more.  

And it really was like the most beautiful torment as shockwaves of pleasure coursed through your veins as your blood thrummed, a second finger joining the madness. When you moaned his name, he gave more. When you rolled your hips in time with his minstraitions, he gave more.  When you threaded your fingers through his hair for what felt like the hundredth time that night, he gave more.  It was like all the pleasure he had to give wasn’t enough, he had to give you more and more and more. The sounds he made were filthy, his hums and groans absolutely enthralling.

When you came, with his name on your lips and your fingers wrapped in his hair, there was no possible way the man could breathe. But he didn’t stop. He rode the high with you until your body was a trembling mess. 

He lapped at you even as he slipped his fingers from your core. Soft, teasing licks that had you whimpering as you melted into the couch more.  

“I could do that as many times as you want.” The confession was murmured against your inner thigh, his lips teasing the soft skin there before nipping gently.  

You couldn’t help your breathless chuckle, words still a foreign, distant thing as you reached for the shoulder of his shirt to tug him up towards you. He obliged, crawling up your body until he could settle beside you, the length of his body pressed against your own.   

You reached down to feel the hard length of him through his pants, the small catch in his breathing encouraging you to rub your palm over him. You looked up as his head tilted back, neck on full display, his adam's apple bobbing in his throat alluringly.  

“I want you,” you whispered.  

Harry’s heart skipped a beat, your words doing more to him than he thought possible. Words he’d been dreaming of hearing from you for so long. He wanted more, needed more. Needed you to say all the things he’d been feeling and too afraid to tell you. He wanted you so bad it was killing him.          

And then his heart plummeted, his eyes blinking in the warm sunlight as his alarm blared on his nightstand. He looked around his empty bedroom in confusion, his brain lagging on what was happening. And then it dawned on him. 

A dream.  

He sighed disappointingly as he leaned across his bed to turn the beeping off, ready to throw his phone against the wall and shatter it.  Tugging it off the charger aggressively, he flopped back onto his pillow and stared at the ceiling for a moment, taking deep breaths to calm himself.   

Holding the phone above his face to unlock it, he checked his messages, seeing your name in the midst of his missed texts.  

Can’t wait for the party! Your guac will be ready for you :)  

*** 

AN: Well well well, look who was able to throw some more words together lol. So happy the inspo/motivation/energy ratio has lined up again. Thank you so so much for reading. And thank you to my girls @bluebird-and-honey​ @andwhenshesays​ for literally everything, my silly little writing is just the tip of the iceberg for the things they help me with. Until next time friends x   

#harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #wet dream

[youunravelme]

Hey baby, happy 1000!

Your writing is always sweet and warm, happy that you are having such a well-deserved recognition! 💜

Could you grace us by writing to Anthony with the prompt “Nibbling on their partner’s lower lip as they kiss, letting their hands wander. Cupping their face in their hands to hold them their just a while longer.”?

Ily 💜

thank you thank you !! and AHHHHH thank you for choosing good ole sweet nugget anthony! (ilhsm)

thanks for the request!! it's right below! (and this request, just like the last one, got away from me yet again.)

anthony's trade still left a sour taste in your mouth. you were in no position to job hunt, and you weren't keen on up and quitting.

so you managed long distance.

for months

and god it sucked.

your schedules barely aligned to talk on facetime, and if both of you were free, one of you was too tired to talk, which ended in one of you hanging up when the conversation died down. it was hard, managing a social life when all you wanted was your boyfriend, it was even harder knowing he was trying just as much to have a good time in vancouver.

the offseason was wonderful, with anthony splitting time between new york with you and time with his family.

but when august hit, and he packed his last bag, it took everything in you to wait to cry until he left for tsa.

so when your boss came up to you a month later and suggested you could work remotely, you almost cried and hugged her.

you refrained and called mat instead.

"hey what's up? everything okay?"

you laughed into the phone, so hard you almost started crying. "my boss told me i can work remotely."

"oh," he said before his voice came back even stronger. "oh!"

"i can move to vancouver!" you were crying now, though someone might think the word "weeping" was more applicable. "no more long distance, no more falling asleep on calls."

"have you told him yet?"

you paused. "no, i think i wanna surprise him." you'd been planning it all day, they were playing the ducks this week in vancouver. and while you would've loved to wait until next week when they played the isles, you didn't think you could wait that long to see him.

so you booked your plane ticket, and mat gave you a list of suggested hotels that were safe and close to the arena.

"not that you'll need a hotel once he finds out you're in town," mat said.

mat had also pulled some strings for you by asking bo horvat to let one of his former teammates know to let you down to the locker rooms at the end of the game. he'd also sent a list of things to do in vancouver while you waited for the game to start.

which would ultimately be a waste because you ended up spending most of your time before the game pacing the floor of your hotel room. you would've paced up and down the plane aisles if you were allowed, so you settled for bouncing your leg instead.

by the time you made it to the stadium, you were like two hours early, just in time for the doors to open. initially, you thought about waiting so anthony wouldn't spot you in the small crowd, but you couldn't keep waiting and delaying the inevitable.

not when you were in the same city for the first time in months since the off season.

you walked into the arena, pulling your jersey's sleeves over your hands in a sad attempt to keep them warm. around you were others dressed similarly, many of whom were wearing your boyfriend's jersey.

it was weird, even though you'd had time to get used to him not wearing an islanders' jersey, you'd never actually been to a home canucks game where multiple people were decked out in 72s.

god you couldn't wait to see him.

your phone buzzed in your back pocket and when you pulled it out, you saw anthony's contact photo filling up your screen.

"hello?"

"hey baby," anthony started. "how're you doing? have any plans for tonight?"

you smirked to yourself. "nothing too special," you said. "just seeing a friend i haven't seen in awhile."

"is that so? how was work--" he cut himself off. "where are you right now? it's kinda loud." you could hear him typing on his phone. "wait, why can't i see your location? where are you? are you safe? do i need to call mat?"

you laughed, missing him even now that you were in opposite ends of the arena. "no baby, i'm fine. sometimes my phone just glitches out."

"if your phone keeps glitching, you need to get a new one. i don't like not knowing where you are."

"anthony--"

"i'm being dead serious, honey. i will buy you a phone if you're concerned about money, but i'm not comfortable with not having a reliable way to get up with you."

"my phone is fine."

"you just said it's glitchy." you rolled your eyes and sighed. "don't roll your eyes at me!"

you blinked. "how did you know i rolled my eyes?"

anthony's chuckle sounded through the receiver. "baby, i've been in love with you for a long time, i know you." you could fill the heat flood your body from your toes to your nose. "don't get shy on me now, honey. you know i love you."

"i know," you said. "i just like being reminded of it."

there was a commotion in the background of his phone that told you he was about to hang up.

"hey, listen i gotta go but can i call you later?"

you smiled to yourself. "i don't know, anthony, i think i'm gonna be busy later."

"too busy for me?"

"'fraid so."

he sighed. "fine, call me when you get home tonight, okay? if you don't, i'm calling mat to check on you."

"okay, baby. i love you."

"love you more."

and he hung up.

you made your way to your seat, sitting behind the front row of home bench and readying yourself with your beanie to cover your hair and face when needed. you scrolled through your social media accounts and answered some text messages, specifically from mat who was begging you to take a video of when anthony finally saw you.

before you knew it, the music started playing and boos emanated from the crowd as the ducks skated out. your gaze went back to your phone for a second to pull up the video as the canucks came out. the entire arena erupted into cheeks and celebration.

you had your phone aimed at the bench as soon as anthony came towards it. you didn't think it was possible to hide yourself behind a small cellular device, but he didn't manage to see you. for a moment, you saw him squint in your direction, but a teammate grabbed his attention before he could really hone in.

the game itself was interesting, anthony had one assist and one goal by the end of the night, with the canucks winning 5-3. at the end of the game, a security guard came over and grabbed you, offering to escort you to the locker rooms.

you stood and waited outside with the other wags, most of whom didn't recognize you initially. it wasn't until one of them mentioned knowing you from somewhere that you mentioned who you were dating. you lost track of how long you talked to them when the doors opened and the players walked out.

you stared and waited in anticipation of seeing him, knowing good and well the second you did, you wouldn't be able to control yourself.

and there he was, staring at his phone, probably texting someone back.

and you had an idea.

you immediately pulled up his contact info and hit the call button as you watched his face light up and quickly pick up the call.

"hey," he said, holding a hand to his other ear to hear you. "i thought you said you couldn't talk tonight."

"change of plans," you replied, not helping the smile that's on your face.

some of his teammates came up and clapped him on the shoulder, but he paid them no attention. quinn even tried to point towards you, but anthony waved him off.

"what're you gonna do now?"

you hummed. "i think i might take a handsome man home."

immediately, anthony's posture tensed, though you could still see the slight smirk on his face. "don't joke about that."

"oh i'm not joking. i'm just waiting for him to look up and notice me."

"how could anyone not notice you, baby?"

you shrugged, knowing he couldn't see you. "i don't know anthony, how could you not see me?"

he pulled the phone away from his ear and looked at it like it had suddenly grown legs before he looked up and around everyone, eyes scanning those around him.

before those beautiful blue eyes landed on you.

you don't think someone has ever hung up a phone call as fast as he did.

you don't think anyone has crossed a room as quickly as he did.

you don't think...

well, as soon as his lips met yours, you ceased to think.

his hands were on your cheeks, his teeth pulled on your bottom lip. you weren't sure if he cheeks were still damp from the shower or if he was crying, not that it mattered to you. being held like that was everything you didn't realize you missed.

suddenly, you were missing the moments of lazy saturdays and pancakes for breakfast.

and you had it here right now.

you'd have it forever once you packed up your old apartment.

"what're you doing here?" he breathed into your mouth, like he was too scared to pull too far away, scared that if he did, you'd be a mirage or a figment of his own imagination.

"i thought it was obvious. i'm here to see you."

he rolled his eyes but kissed you again. "i missed your smart mouth, doesn't hit the same over the phone."

you placed your hands on his chest and felt the pounding heartbeat beneath the fabric of his clothes. "i came to give you good news."

"and?"

"my boss told me i could start working remotely."

he blinked.

"meaning, i can work anywhere i want, occasionally coming into the office about once a month if that."

he blinked again before exhaling what sounded like the most heartbreaking sigh of relief. "so you can move here? be with me?"

you laughed and nodded before he pulled you into another kiss. "anthony, baby, we're in public," you said, trying to pull away.

but his arms just grabbed you by the hips and pulled you closer. "don't care," he said. "i haven't seen my girl in months, if anyone has a problem with my kissing her, then that's a them issue."

you rolled your eyes but kissed him again anyway.

"i love you," he whispered. "i'm so glad you're moving here."

"love you more."

#anthony beauvillier imagine #anthony beauvillier #tito beauvillier #tito beauvillier imagine #nhl blurb #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #1k celebration

[kookie-doughs]

Evermore

Dracule Mihawk X Reader

-Your evermore with Mihawk is a story to be told

Chapter 3: I'll Never Shake Away The Pain, I Close My Eyes But She's Still There

Within the tranquil night, the moon hung like a glowing pearl in the sky, casting its gentle glow upon Mihawk's secluded island. Inside the castle, the grand hall was adorned with soft candlelight, creating an ambiance of quiet splendor. It was in this hall that Dracule Mihawk and Roronoa Zoro engaged in their rigorous training.

Perona, perched on a window sill with her characteristic nonchalance, let out an irritated sigh as the shrill ring of a Den Den Mushi pierced the silence. She picked up the device, her annoyance evident. "Ugh, why are these things always so loud?"

Shanks' voice crackled through the device, his tone as boisterous as ever. "Perona! Long time no talk! Is Mihawk around?"

Perona rolled her eyes at the enthusiasm in Shanks' voice. "Yeah, yeah, he's busy training with Zoro. What do you want?"

Shanks chuckled heartily. "Well, Perona, I've got some news for you. Mihawk and I's birthday is in a week, and I thought I'd drop by for a visit."

Perona's eyes widened in surprise, her annoyance momentarily forgotten. "His birthday? Seriously?"

Shanks laughed, the sound infectious. "Yes, seriously. And I thought it'd be a great opportunity to catch up with Mihawk. Can you let him know?"

Perona nodded, even though Shanks couldn't see her. "Sure thing, Red-Hair. I'll make sure he's aware."

Shanks' voice turned mischievous. "Oh, and Perona, if you could do me a favor, I'd really appreciate it."

Perona raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. "A favor? What is it?"

Shanks' grin was palpable through the Den Den Mushi. "Since I'll be dropping by, how about you pick out a gift for me to give to Mihawk? You know him better than I do, after all."

Perona's cheeks flushed faintly, a mix of surprise and guilt washing over her. "Uh, well, I can't exactly leave the island, you know."

Shanks' voice held an understanding tone. "No worries, Perona. Just tell me what you have in mind, and I'll make sure to bring it along. Consider it a gift from both of us."

Perona's irritation at the Den Den Mushi's loudness had completely evaporated, replaced by a warmth that spread through her chest. "Yeah, okay. I'll think of something."

Shanks' gratitude was evident in his voice. "Thanks! Looking forward to seeing you all soon."

As the call ended, Perona stared at the Den Den Mushi for a moment, a small smile playing at her lips. The prospect of Shanks' visit, along with the opportunity to contribute to Mihawk's birthday, filled her with a sense of anticipation she hadn't expected.

~

Time had flowed by like a river without banks, uncontained and uncounted. How long had it been since you had come to this remote island, to Dracule Mihawk's side? The days and nights seemed to blur together, and the very concept of time had become an abstract notion, no longer tethered to any meaningful measurement. What did it matter anyway? This was your home now, and that was all that truly mattered.

Lying in Mihawk's embrace, you both were engrossed in your own books. The silence was comfortable, the unspoken understanding between you as soothing as a lullaby. It was in this serenity that a thought crossed your mind, one that stirred your curiosity.

"Your birthday is coming up," you mused, interrupting the silence.

Mihawk's gaze lifted from the pages, his expression a mix of mild confusion and intrigue. "Indeed. And?"

You smiled mischievously. "Do you want to celebrate it here, or should we join Shanks wherever he's settled?"

Mihawk's lips quirked into a small smile. "My dear, a celebration is not needed."

You let out a playful pout, your eyes sparkling. "Booo! Come on, Mihawk, where's the fun in that? And if you don't decide, you know Shanks is going to take matters into his own hands."

Mihawk let out a sigh, his gaze wandering back to his book. "I'd rather not clean up our home after his inevitable mess."

You chuckled, the memory of Shanks' rowdy visits vivid in your mind. "Ah, yes, the aftermath of Shanks' party. I remember having to clean it all up as the others were either passed out drunk or scrambling to leave before you could catch them."

Mihawk's lips twitched into a rueful smile, acknowledging the truth in your words. "Indeed, it's a mess I'd rather avoid."

With a playful glint in your eyes, you rose from his side, pecking his cheek before skipping off to another room. Mihawk followed, his curiosity piqued by your sudden change in demeanor.

You approached Shanks' snail to dial him and he answered on the other end, his voice boisterous as always. "Y/N! How're you two cute couple?"

You grinned, leaning against Mihawk's solid presence. "Oh, you know, the usual. Books, swords, and a touch of chaos."

Shanks' laugh echoed through the device. "Sounds boring. So, what can I do for you?"

With a playful smile, you winked at Mihawk before turning your attention back to the call. "Actually, Shanks, we were discussing the upcoming birthdays. He's being a party pooper and doesn't want to celebrate."

Mihawk leaned in, his voice carrying over to the conversation. "A celebration is unnecessary."

You turned your gaze to him, feigning mock hurt. "See? This is what I have to deal with."

Shanks' laughter was contagious. "Well, you know how he is. Stubborn as ever. But if you decide to celebrate here, let me know. I'll be going there in a week before or so."

You exchanged a knowing glance with Mihawk. "Will do, Shanks. We'll figure something out."

Mihawk took the Den Den Mushi from you, his tone decisive. "Very well, Red-Hair. I'll let you know if we decide on anything."

Shanks' voice turned mischievous. "Oh, and Y/N, I trust you'll make sure Mihawk has a good time."

You laughed, the sound bright and carefree. "Don't worry, I'll make sure of it."

With a quick exchange of farewells, the call ended. You turned to Mihawk, a playful glint in your eyes. "Looks like we have a decision to make."

Mihawk's lips curved into a rare smile, his arms encircling you. "Indeed, it seems that way."

You continued your banter, your teasing remarks and playful antics.

Previous | Masterlist | Next

Taglist?

@gayer-than-the-gayest-gay @nykie-love-anime @khaleesihavilliard @littleleelee

#x reader #fanfiction #y/n l/n #one piece #one piece x reader #one piece mihawk #one piece dracule mihawk #one piece mihawk x reader #mihawk #dracule mihawk #hawkeye mihawk #op mihawk #mihawk x reader #dracule mihawk x reader #one piece hawkeye

[gladerscake]

Only Yours

(Gally x Reader)

Requested by anon. Hey, remember my Territorial fic? I’ve decided to throw an Uno Reverse card at it. This time, our darling Y/N is the jealous one 😉 Enjoy!

As much as you loved bonfire nights at the Safe Haven, the new beautiful home you still couldn’t believe was yours, this one was imminently becoming quite… vexing.

Your eyes narrowed into irritated slits, the corner of your bottom lip caught in between your teeth as you observed the scene unfolding before you, the scene you weren’t sure how long you could withstand without crushing your mason jar in between your tensing palms.

You always found Gally incredibly attractive, stupidly so. He was your boyfriend, you could never imagine thinking otherwise. His piercing bluish-green eyes, tall and muscular build, plump lips and freckle-dotted face were all on the list of your biggest weaknesses. Each time his brows furrowed at you in playful banter, every loving grin and every flex of his toned muscles could make your knees wobble and pulse quicken. To you, he was an absolute work of art.

What you hadn’t been prepared for though, was the sudden emergence of other girls that seemed to have similar tastes in male appearances as you.

Newcomers.

Survivors that Vince regularly brought to the island with him from his ventures back into the old world. Most of them were fine, friendly, glad to be alive and eternally grateful for not being left behind to rot. However, among the latest arrival, were a couple of girls around your age. One of whom clearly had a problem with understanding boundaries.

A growling rumble sounded from deep within your throat as you watched her chatting up Gally by the fire. She had intercepted him on his way back to your group and apparently, much to your discontent, was reluctant to let him go.

You could practically hear her obnoxious giggling from where you were standing as she beamed up at him, her eyes raking up and down his burly figure with poorly concealed intrigue.

Having known Gally for almost three years and been together for two of them, you had gotten quite good at reading his body language. You could always easily tell whenever he wanted someone to leave him alone. His shoulders would tense up, his lips would press into a thin line, his arms would cross over his broad chest as he would keep looking to the side, hoping someone or something would come to his aid.

Check, check, check and check, again.

Whatever she was trying to do or make happen, Gally wanted no part of it. He wanted it to end. This was one of those rare instances where he almost regretted becoming a “nicer” person, in comparison to his Glade self. Maybe if he were still that guy, he could’ve just told her to go find someone else to bother and walked away without thinking twice about it or batting an eye. But that wasn’t him anymore, not entirely.

Your jaw clenched as you finally placed your mason jar on a nearby bench with an eerily slow movement, your drink sloshing inside.

If someone was going to come to Gally’s rescue, it was inevitably going to be you.

Meanwhile, Gally was trying his earnest to keep his cool. He wasn’t used to female attention, aside from yours, nor did he care for it. He may not have had too much experience with girls, but he wasn’t dumb or blind. It was obvious this girl was a little too interested in talking to him. And while someone like Minho, for instance, would have reveled in that kind of ego-stroking scenario, Gally was merely annoyed by it. It didn’t feel like a lighthearted conversation with a newcomer, it felt like a nuisance. A fly buzzing around his head that he couldn’t find a way to politely get rid of.

“So anyway, my friend told me she saw you working on a shack on the beach earlier! Are you some kind of builder around here?”

The girl’s high-pitched voice grazed Gally’s ears, momentarily forcing his focus away from searching the crowd for help as he looked back at her, plastering an attempt at a light smile, as best as he could.

“Yeah. You could say that.”

The girl broke into a wide grin, fingers tapping on her mug as she glanced over his tall form once again “That’s so cool! Are you in need of any help?”

Oh, he was. Just not the kind of help she was hinting at.

“Because if you are, I’d be so excited to try! Must be thrilling to make something turn from a pile of wood to-“

“Baby?”

Gally’s heart flipped at the familiar sound of your voice as it called out for him, his head snapping in the direction it was coming from.

Relief coated every nerve in his body, his clenching jaw visibly relaxing as you gingerly pushed through the swarm of people swaying by the fire. Your glimmering eyes that reflected the dancing flames caught his almost pleading gaze, inadvertently bringing a small grin to the corner of his mouth.

He didn’t even notice the way the girl’s face fell as you approached him, one of your slender arms slipping around his powerful torso.

“I’ve been looking for you.” You murmured with a coy smile, deliberately avoiding eye-contact with the source of Gally’s predicament for the moment.

Gally breathed out a chuckle, swinging his heavy arm around your shoulders.

“Sorry, I got held up, this is, uh…” He reluctantly returned his gaze to the girl, quickly realizing that he had already forgotten her name, even though he was positive she had mentioned it.

The girl’s lips twitched with a barely-contained frown “Maddy.”

“Maddy. Right. This is Y/N - my girlfriend.” Gally disclosed, the note of pride lacing his deep voice making you bite back a smirk as he gently pulled you closer into his side.

“Nice to meet you!” You smiled as genuinely as it was possible, which wasn’t an easy task. You didn’t miss the way Maddy’s fingers tightened around her mug, the effort to keep up a friendly facade evident on her features.

“Nice to meet you, too! Sorry, I was just wondering if Gally was… looking to extend the team!”

You hummed, knowing full well that even if he was, a newcomer who evidently was only looking to get closer to him, wouldn’t make it in a million years. Gally seemed to read your mind as his calloused hand trailed down to your waist with a warm squeeze, the small gesture sending a flourish of affection through your senses.

“Oh, I’m sure he’ll let you know if a spot opens up.” You quipped, looking up at your boyfriend as he forced back a snicker at the thought “Sorry to cut this short, but our friends are waiting right over there. You coming?”

Gally was about to open his mouth to respond when, suddenly, his skin heated up under your soft fingertips as they trailed down his cheek in a feathery caress. Before he had a chance to say anything, your arm wrapped around his neck, pulling him down as your lips captured his in a deep, yearning kiss.

Every thought flushed out of his mind as he melted into your soft lips, a quiet hum of satisfaction drowning against your mouth as he returned the kiss with matching vigor, the hand that resided on your waist delivering another firm squeeze.

Figuring the necessary point has been made and not wanting to get carried away right there in front of everyone, you pulled away from Gally’s heavenly lips with a smooth grin.

The red that dusted his cheeks was as prominent as ever as you released a hushed giggle before looking over to the girl that still stood close by, slightly paler in the face than a minute ago.

“We’ll see you around, okay? Enjoy the night!” You chirped, barely registering her response as Gally promptly pulled you away, already heading back to where the rest of your friends were, his arm once again finding its way around your shoulders.

You felt a tingle rush through your body as he leaned down to your ear, his whisper tickling your skin.

“Mind if I ask what that was?”

Your brows propped upwards as you looked up at him, wide-eyes feigning innocence “What do you mean?”

Gally smirked, his piercing, irresistible eyes locking to yours “No, don’t do that. You know what I mean. Not that I’m complaining, but it’s not usually like you to put on a display like that.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, the flickering mischief in Gally’s eyes messing with your attempts to keep up the innocent act. His devilishly handsome smirk was not helping matters either.

“Well, you clearly needed rescuing. I happen to think I did a great job of that. Effective, no?” You grinned up at Gally as he laughed, lowly, pressing his lips to your temple and kissing your hair.

“Very. In more ways than one.”

You rolled your eyes at the cheeky implication, playfully smacking his broad chest as he merely feigned an “ouch”.

“Easy now. Think we can make it through one whole bonfire?”

Gally shrugged, the idea of calling it an early night already bouncing off of the corners of his mind as he responded with a provocative pinch to your hip.

It wasn’t difficult to guess what he meant.

No promises.

Tags: @ultraintrovertedgryffindor @maraudersimp @abundantxadorations @izzymultifan @magnoliabloomfield @willseyebrows @annoyinglythoughtfuldestiny @anniemylennox @gallysonegoodlung @joemomma2121 @lattsgocaps @sherbertscarrothead-2 @lullabaesstuff @thesuitkovian @blanknamed @mastersurf @lealup @pumpkinpatchrat @american-idiot-jpg @slipshod-sawyer @multifandomloversworld @b-bradshaw

#the maze runner #tmr gally #the death cure #gally x reader #gally imagine #gally x fem!reader #safe haven #gally x y/n #gladers #tmr #tmr x reader #gally x you #gally tmr #tmr gally imagine #gally fanfic #gally oneshot #gally fluff #will poulter

[missathlete31]

Took Too Much- Prologue

Remember when I said no more AU's? Well I lied.

Synopsis: A different take on my Birds of A Feather Universe featuring Emily Bradshaw (Bradley's little sister) dating Jake Seresin during and after the mission. Bradley and Mav, now working on their own issues and trying to reconnect with Emily as well, have a LOT of opinions on the young woman's choice of partner.

And like the foolish men they are, they think they have the right to sabotage it.

It started out funny, watching the collective horror on Bradley and Mav's faces when Emily arrived at the post mission party at the Hard Deck and Jake welcomed her with the desperate kiss of a man who wasn't sure he was coming home. The bar quieted, everyone staring, but the shock was pointless, they had always been inevitable. Emily had known Jake for a decade, been in love with him for almost as long, and if it weren't for deployments and her own quest to rise in the medical world there would be a ring on her finger already and maybe a child or two at her side.

They met when Jake went to Top Gun the first time, all young and cocky and flying like he didn't have anything to lose; because he didn't. No name on his emergency contact list besides whatever CO he was currently serving under, no home to go back to for holidays or leave. Jake ran into Emily a few times around North Island, a pretty girl with a smile that never met her eyes, a pain and loneliness that Jake never thought he would see in anyone else but himself. They flirted, they hooked up, but the blonde pilot expected it to run its course by the time he graduated.

And then family week came.

Emily never got a chance to meet her father but she grew up hearing stories. She heard about his time at Top Gun, how that was the moment her father and Uncle Mav ended up meeting so many of the men who would become staples to her growing up. It was where her father met her Uncle Ice, the only person she had left of them all, though he was off trying to make Admiral and wasn't around as often. But before that, before Emily was lost to the collateral damage of a fight between her brother and the man who tried to raise them, Emily got to learn about one of the best times in her dad's life. Top Gun seemed like the greatest place in the world; the hi-jinxes that they shared, the competitiveness, the singing at the bar and wooing women for Mav; it all sounded so fun! Imagine her surprise when Bradley of all people told her how their father's time at Top Gun ended. How it was during Family week of all moments, with his son and wife in town and waiting for him, when Nick Bradshaw hit the canopy and broke his neck before he landed face down in the Pacific.

So Emily hated Family Week.

As all the pilots on base took their parents, lovers, and children to the nicer restaurants off the water, Emily found the crappiest dive bar she could and drank her sorrows away. She grieved, like she did every Top Gun cycle, for the children like her who wouldn't grow up with a complete home thanks to the Navy, for women and men like her mother who would lose the love of their lives tragically young, and for herself, for staying here in this town, in the shroud of cruel non-memories, thinking that it made her closer to a ghost that never knew her.

But then Jake arrived.

Jake, who grieved his own loneliness just like her. Who had no one but himself for so long he didn't even know how to let anyone else in. Jake, who took one look at the woman at the bar that he had already been falling for, the woman who never seemed willing to let him all the way in, and he decided to take a chance. Jake joined Emily that evening and together they learned that isolation was not their punishment, they were allowed to find someone. Two souls so broken and yet so similar, and suddenly everything felt easy.

They've never talked about the future during the rest of Jake's time in North Island; Emily's own hesitancy of following in her mother's footsteps and losing a love so young and Jake's inability to allow himself to have love and companionship on that type of level making them the poster children for lack of communication, but somehow they didn't need to. When Jake graduated, top of his class of course, Emily knew their time was up. It was bittersweet but expected and yet very quickly letters began to arrive for her, Jake's penmanship  printing out her address neatly, a letter of his newest posting inside. She would write back and suddenly it seemed their connection didn't need to end. They didn't define what they were to each other: Jake never asked if she was seeing anyone, nor would he seem mad if she were. Emily never hinted to see if he found someone else at a new port or assumed that he didn't let loose on the women in whatever town he was stationed . Instead they became what each other needed: Emily insisted on being Jake's emergency contact. Jake began to come back to North Island on his holidays and leave to make sure Emily wasn't alone all the time. It was love but by their own definition, and it was the most stable relationship either of them ever had.

Now, reunited once again and after the threat of losing what could have been, Emily and Jake were ready to make this real, Bradley and Maverick be damned. Emily knew she had no obligation to explain herself to either of them, not after they left her 15 years ago, and she took a bit of pleasure when they both seemed to huff in indignation at the implications that Hangman of all people was who she was seeing. She expected some pushback, especially with Maverick being Jake's CO, but she never assumed the look shared between her brother and pseudo father would mean so much, would take so much.

How two people who claimed to love her could destroy so much.

Here's the original moodboard from the Birds of A Feather story but please note Jake and Emily are not married in this version!

#top gun maverick #jake hangman seresin #bradley rooster bradshaw #pete maverick mitchell #pete mitchell #emily nicole bradshaw #bradshaw family #top gun #top gun hangman #jake seresin #top gun: maverick #dagger squad #new au #the bradshaw family #family angst #estranged family

[factorialsotherfandoms]

Scribbled this out a few nights ago. It’s not really about any specific event, though it references the Tazercraft Prison stuff and the Election Dinner so spoilers for those. It just... idk I know cc!Philza rarely does lore because by the time people get going he’s falling asleep, buuuuuut in character he surely has his reasons too. Even if getting dragged into it will happen sooner or later. Also. I saw the Antarctic Empire outfit from smp earth and was like. that’s a cool colour I’ll make him wear it. Then ran with it.

Fit, Philza, and the inevitable.

Philza was retired. Fit knew this, and he respected it - after everything, his friend deserved nothing less than to stay at home with his children, to grow potatoes and build basements and decorate nearly every surface with moss and glowberries. His swords had been swapped for axes, his armour hung up for more easily cleaned dungarees, and his wings clipped so badly that he might never regain use of them again.

That last point? It hurt Fit, it hurt him so bad. He remembers seeing Philza fly across worlds, dark as night and free as a bird. Nobody could have stopped him, then. Now... the codes can, Etoiles could, but this world was strange and none of the rules were quite right, and Philza had always been resistant to change.

But Philza was also a dear friend, and Fit could no longer afford for this to go wrong. He trusted nobody on this island, not one of them.

Well.

He trusted Philza, but perhaps it was that trust too which made him hesitate. When Pac and Mike were merely kidnapped for a day, he had been tempted, so tempted to tell him. But then he would have had to tell the rest, and...

Fit was no fool. He knew how it would end. Philza would be unwilling to involve himself, to scared of risking his children- one too eager to fight, the other an easier target than most.

And yet, Philza would help him anyway. Because they were friends, because they had always been friends, because Philza might have been unwilling but he very rarely said no to a genuine plea for help.

He would have agreed, and he would have destroyed himself to do it.

So here they were, stood at the edge of the wall. Ramon was antsy, ready to go, but Fit had insisted on wishing Philza and his eggs a proper goodnight.

"Night mate," his old friend said, as he opened the hatch to his basement.

Fit hesitated, and Philza escaped. But...

"Wait here Ramon," Fit opened it for himself, and followed Philza down.

"Fit?" The confusion was so genuine. "Did you need something else?"

"Philza," he replied. "Put the kids to bed, but then I need to speak to you."

Philza frowned, but nodded - told Fit just to wait outside.

After a short while, Philza returned to the top. His face was grim, and they both knew how this conversation would end.

"So Philza," Fit said. "Do you remember where I come from?"

"I do," Philza replied, his frown falling further.

"I've been taking steps to deal with the Federation at the request of-" Fit spoke quickly, cut off by Ramon headbutting him hard enough to bruise.

"I don't want to know," Philza glanced to the hatch behind him as he spoke, preventing Fit from continuing. "My children, Fit, you know-"

"I do know," Fit held out a hand. "I’m sorry old friend; I wouldn't be asking if I had any other option left."

Philza closed his eyes, looking down and seeming every bit his age. After a long moment he sighed, looking up to the sky, and then the Federation eyesore on his doorstep.

"Just let me check on the children, alright mate? I’ll be right back."

He did not pause before pulling open the hatch.. For a moment he hesitated, looking back, before heading back down.

Fit could hear Philza talk, telling Chayanne and Tallulah to find Forever or Bad if anything happened, anything at all. The noise faded as he sang them to sleep, and then began to busy himself with something else.

Fit waited, and he could only hope that it paid off as Philza disappeared from the contacts list.

He waited, and waited, and then, seven minutes later, Philza returned.

He had changed in those minutes. Gone was the green and the black, but for the gemstone woven into his hair. The hat remained, its stripes now in a cold, icy blue. A matching tunic, a white and red cape hung with gold chains around his neck. It covered the great, black wings, but they - clipped as they were - sat more freely upon his back, stretching and folding themselves with ease.

And then a black mask, made of his own black feathers and woven into the long, golden hair. It formed a crow's face and beak, covering every identifying part of his face.

And around his neck hung the the Favour of Lady Death herself.

In his full regalia, not as Philza of the Hardcore worlds, nor as Death's beloved Angel, but as the ruler of an Empire which once claimed all the world.

Fit nodded to him.

Philza nodded back.

"Tell me, FitMC of 2b2t," Philza's voice dropped low, everything about him making clear the threat he posed to all’. "What do you need me to do?"

#qsmp fanfic #qsmp philza #qsmp fitmc #fanfic by op #my lore knowledge is minimal but I had an outfit idea and I ran with it #q!philza #q!fitmc

[aelinschild]

Paradigm; side by side

˙✧˖ March 6th: Hope

Main Masterlist | Paradigm; side by side Masterlist |

AN: My biggest apologies for how late this is coming out today! My life is at the busiest it will probably be this year, so its been a bit of a struggle to balance life with writing, but I am doing my best to get this out <3

SYNOPSIS: Dont let me close. WORDCOUNT: 923 WARNINGS: Cursing, two really sexually frustrated adults, faint depiction of scars/wounds

Huge thank you to @throneofglassmicrofics for organizing! Make sure to check out other works over on their account!

“I didn't take you for a night owl,” 

Benign silence was scratched to a halt. Reeling in the afterglow of rumination, Aelin's hands stuttered over the mug. It had rolled once, twice, before settling with an unmistakable click onto butcher board countertops. No shock if they were layered with blood. 

Moments passed when she took to settle the nerves that had fired excitement and fear so quickly it left her dizzy. Pin prickling hair at the base of her neck. A gut feeling of ill intent. She had spent so much time absorbing his presence that she had forgotten he was there. The muffled huff was an indication. 

“No.”

She still didn't turn to face him, body set firmly against time worn countertops. If her hearing served her well, the light brush of air was the noise of footsteps muted from isolation. 

“‘No’, as in you are not a night owl? Or…?” He let it hang in contemplation. 

“Would you like some tea?” End. Door slammed firmly shut. 

Her arm stretched for another mug, set on the second shelf inside the cupboard. High enough that she had no doubt a man lived here. High enough, she would have to take up reorganizing eventually. If she stays, that is. 

The mug she had her eyes set for was quickly encased in another's grasp. Tattooed hand, larger than her face. She could imagine. 

“No need,” why did he grab a mug? “I prefer the salt water.”

“What?” 

He chuckled, a low throaty sound that worked wonders for the fatigued parts of her mind. A rumbling caress, wrapped up in musculature and warmed through lifeblood. There would be a delicacy inside a body like that. Closeness was its only equivalence. 

“Tired there, miss?” He hummed. She could feel the smirk on her. And she wanted to play back, lest she be left behind in whatever game they played. 

“No. I find I need some sort of stimulation before I sleep.” Hand drifting over the kettle, pouring in boiled water with the ease of someone who has not toed a possibly inevitable line. She pressed into the metal of the handle to better hide the tension wracked shakes. This is fun.

He made a noise. Something unidentifiable. Unremarkable. Aelin just spun to face him, taking a demure sip of boiling chamomile tea. Laced with honey. 

Two stood across from one another. Him, leaning against the island of the kitchen. Her, against the counters he owned. She felt rooted in place under his gaze. A green so deep it shines in hues of emerald and verdance. Vitriol of thoughts swirling under blown out irises. Inky depths with raw edges. The tattoos she would memorize. Run fingers over marred flesh, teeth and tongue. Tracing delicate lines that were as much a window to inside him as the house they stood in. All faded youth and roughened pride. Stood like a ruler of the space; every molecule in the fibre of the room bending its knee. Aelin wondered where the arrogance was casted aside to make room for whatever new humility played its part; welcoming a stranger into his home. 

“I see,” purring and condescending and interested. “Well, can I make you an offer?”

Like the light fell, or the shadows danced, his eyes changed. Curtains of achromatic waves dressed down. Chasing behind whatever has left. Softening edges in a way that had Aelin's gut twisting on familiarity. She had to look away. 

“Try me,” it came out breathless. Her sight restricted to tracing the rim of the clay mug. 

“The stars- I mean, it's supposed to be very clear tonight. Makes the stars easier to see.”

“Mhm.” 

A deep breath, “I was planning on watching. Just… along the shore.” There was something he left unsaid. She didn't offer up the answer that floated just outside her grasp. “Would you want to  join me?” 

She squeezed her eyes shut. Game over. 

Ghosting along the precipice of torment was a drop so far and incalculable. It was a misstep, every little moment. His body was all that she remembered feeling, this tethering life force of an invisible chain. Locked and silenced. The way the air moved had metamorphized the moment. Incongruent and irreparable. It would be an err of great reckoning to give in to the smouldering timidity oscillating inside forest green eyes. 

“I’ll leave you to the stars tonight.” Choked out, similar to the burn of saltwater as it rushed through viscera. “Have a good night, Rowan.” Whisper soft rejection. 

-

In the recesses of his mind, he knew he should be grateful she said no. Temptation made into curves and valleys; there was no resistance. Had she been here, had she said yes, he may have lost whatever speckles of humanity he held onto.  

And he couldnt forget what she looked like while sopping wet, layers peeled away and stripped down to the basal fragility of humanity. 

But the stars shined like molten gold, dripping from the night sky and bleeding into a slowly recovering heart. Pumping some sort of intentionality inside arteries. Debatable origins, questionable destinations. But it moved, and it burned inside of him. 

Rowan’s eyes sought out the constellation he had all but cut into his own flesh. He would like that, the stain of blood and the residue of scars. Some permanent declaration of this sudden inconsistency in his head. That – the inconsistency – had left him bare handed, no journal or charts in sight. Fuck, not even a scope of any degree. 

Just him and Cygnus. 

Taglist: @mariaofdoranelle , @leiawritesstories , @renxzs

Let me know if youd like to be added to the taglist!

#throne of glass microfics #throne of glass #rowan whitethorn #rowaelin fanfiction #aelin galythinius #aelin x rowan #rowan x aelin #rowaelin au #aelin and rowan #rowaelin #aelin ashryver galathynius #aelin galathynius #aelin fireheart #sarah j maas #sjm books #sjm #sjmaas #aelinschild

[runwayrunway]

A New England Planespotter In...England (And Scotland)

So I've just gotten back from two weeks in London, almost directly beneath one of the arrival paths to Heathrow. One weird thing about being in London was that...my home airport, Logan, is big, sure, lots of international flights, but it's weird in that it's only a hub for three airlines, one of which is domestic. Being sandwiched between NYC and Newark does that to a place. So we get a pretty small selection of airlines here, all things considered.

Heathrow? Literally while taxiing from the runway to the gate I saw us go past an Air Mauritius and a Royal Brunei Airlines plane (and I didn't have my camera out to take a picture!). On the way out on my way home I saw a RwandAir plane (and it was at an angle behind me where I couldn't get a picture of it either!). I saw multiple A380s a day from British Airways and Singapore Airlines, and even a 747 flying for Korean Air Cargo went overhead! (747s never fly to Logan.) I saw THAI, Air India, TAROM, Air Serbia, and the full complement of gulf carriers - which I expected - and China Southern Airlines, which I somehow didn't.

Hey, wait, is that tailfin...

There she is! (I was so happy to see her that I think I startled the person sitting next to me.)

There were of course the usual faces as well - Delta, American Airlines, and even JetBlue now flies to London. I didn't see any full-size FedEx planes, but I did see a FedEx Feeder ATR 72 (at least I think it's a 72) at Edinburgh Airport.

(she was quite far away and the image is inevitably very crunchy)

A few other cargo airlines more typical of Europe were parked nearby her - DHL, Maersk Air Cargo (in the old Star Air livery), West Atlantic, and whoever that is at the end - the livery feels so familiar, actually, but there's no wordmark and half of me thinks it's a wet lease that hasn't been painted. If anyone remembers what's on the tip of my tongue, please do tell me.

While entirely expected, I also enjoyed seeing little Loganair ERJs around in Edinburgh. They're so short! I was arriving in an A320 and even then I had to wait until I was on the ground to take a decent picture that wasn't half cut off by the plane I was actually in.

I don't know enough about Loganair's routes to know what they actually fly to Edinburgh, but a tiny part of me was sad I didn't see any of their littler prop planes. I have a huge soft spot for the Britten-Norman Islander, the first prop plane I ever got to fly on, which Loganair operates two of. Among their uses in the fleet is operating the shortest scheduled route in the world, which lasts around a minute and is about as long as the runway I landed on when I took all those pictures. I won't pretend it's not on my bucket list. (To be fair, I am also legitimately interested in the archaeological sites on Papa Westray...just maybe not interested enough to take a longer flight to see them.)

These aren't all the airlines I saw, but the rest I'm saving for other days and other posts. Still, there is one more type of airplane I saw which I think I have never actually seen in Massachusetts. When I was at Edinburgh I heard this bizarre loud thing that sounded like nothing I'd ever heard before and looked up and saw what I thought was a C-130. Then I realized it was actually an A400M with its weird scimitar propellers. As far as I'm aware this is the first airlift plane I've seen in person that wasn't a static display and it's definitely the first plane I've seen that sounds like that. I also got to see my first ever helicopter that wasn't a tiny little general aviation thing in the form of a Chinook going right over my head at...really not that high, but it didn't have its transponder on so I couldn't tell you more exactly. Is that a thing in London? Airplane-sized military helicopters at low heights over populated areas with their transponders off? I don't remember ever seeing that before but I suppose it has been a while. It was very, very strange.

And that's a non-exhaustive list of the things you just don't get to see in Boston! I will definitely talk about some of these airlines in full someday, but some of them I probably won't. I at least had a lot of fun pointing at airplanes and going "wow...".

#off-duty #runway runway travelogues #polairoids #loganair #fedex #srilankan airlines #dhl #maersk air cargo #west atlantic uk #west atlantic airlines #star air (denmark)

[thefriendlyferretwriter]

A new side of you: Waltz of emotions

Pairing: Eugene 'Flash' Thompson x reader

Summary: Surprised, again and again.

Warning: 13k words, Tension, tension, tension, angst, a bit of fluff, OCs, don't know what else to warn you about.

A/N: I feel like this is standard by now but sorry again for being such a slow writer, I hope the fic is enough to be forgiven for my usual tardiness. Might have edited but I'm not a native speaker so get ready for plenty of mistakes, enjoy!

Tags: (Don't hesitate to tell me if you want to be added or removed, and thank you again for your feebacks ❤️) @loxerclu8 @wheelerzluv @ray-of-sunrise @m00nkn1ghts

People's view of the costume is accurate. The fabric is thin and flexible but unfortunately, it is quite a cold way to fight crimes during the chilly nights of New York.

"That was awesome! I wonder if it'll end up on the internet?"

"I doubt it. If it does end up there it'll be out of frame and shaky. The police were quite insistent when they were shoving people to safety," I say feeling the breeze as I swing around at full speed.

Landing with a huff I realize I'm out of breath, "Ned." I pant, "Remind me to get a custom binder, this one is killing me."

"I told you! You can't just buy any binder from the internet. It's like corsets, of course they are uncomfortable if they are not tailored for you!"

Your vendetta against Hollywood has reached another level," I say taking another deep breath.

With a leap I swing from the American Museum of Natural History and land on a school's rooftop.

A buzz makes me pause and crouch to check my phone and see a second call coming in from May.

"I got to go May is on the other line."

"Okay, 'night."

"'Night."

Swiping on my phone I wait for the inevitable.

"Where are you?!"

I try to defuse the damage as I look around, "I am at the park close to the flat," I draw out slowly.

"…Which park?"

…

"Do not tell me you're close to Central Park which is on the other side of the city."

"Okay, I won't say it."

"Damnit! you know I don't want you farther than Long Island at night!"

"I know, I know!" I whine, "But there was this guy with a huge Scorpion armor and he was doing mass destruction! The police couldn't do it alone they needed help!" I protest.

"Before being Spiderman you're my niece and my niece will obey the very few rules I put in place for her safety."

"Don't you think the fact that I can knock out people 3 times my size should allow me a bit of indulgence on those rules?"

"No young lady I read a ton of books on this and I know how this ends."

"How?" I ask curiously.

"Mostly teen pregnancy."

"Wow! Okay let's not be dramatic now, shall we?"

"And juvie," May continues her list.

"May I fight crimes, I don't commit it."

"Listen we have a system and it works, I don't get sarcastic with my boss and you don't go farther than Long Island past 11 PM."

"In retrospect, I think we should've thought harder on those rules."

"Too late, the system works and it's flawless. Now swing your ass back home before Spiderman gets grounded."

"Yes ma'am."

"Love you," she says smugly.

The line dies and I breathe out the annoyance I feel to then breathe in the fresh evening air.

Tearing off my mask I try to crack my neck and let it hang down to massage and release the night's tension when my eyes catch a familiar sigh.

Flash?

He sits on a bench with his phone in hand looking perplexed.

It's been a week since we last saw each other, or even talked. I didn't want to bother him and I have the feeling it's the same for him.

I look down at my wrist and fumble with the different settings before I find and activate the voice modificator.

Swinging down, I drop on the cemented ground and accidentally startle him as he jumps and stumbles to the floor.

"Oh shit, sorry I didn't mean to scare you," I say genuinely with my voice coming out deeper thanks to the device.

Stumbling around to step back up, Flash looks at Spiderman with wide eyes and his jaw on the floor.

A torrent of curses comes out of his mouth along with an excited laugh of disbelief.

"I can't believe it, it's you!" he says and motions to me up and down.

"Oh yeah, it's me!" I say rethinking my decision to offer guidance disguised as Spiderman in front of Flash Thompson.

"Oh my god I was having such a bad night and now I'm talking to Spiderman!"

"Yeah, that's awesome! Listen, I saw you from up there and you looked troubled and honestly a bit underdressed," I point to his light shirt.

"Oh yeah," he says more calmly looking down at his outfit, "I just needed to take a walk to think about-"

He hesitates.

"No that's not important."

"No way, tell me, that's why I came down here," I say sitting on the bench inviting him to join me.

It's not the first time that Spiderman has a sit-down with someone in distress; words being as useful as a handful of punches.

He sighs and sits down, "There's this um-Charity thing and my mom told me I had to bring a date and I told her I would but let's say it's easier said than done."

"Why's that? Having trouble finding a date?" I tease.

"No," he chuckles, "No actually I already know who I want to invite, but I don't know if she would say yes, and even then I don't really know where we stand. Inviting her could compromise everything," he says sliding his hands down his face with a pained sigh.

Is it me?

Who am I kidding? It's not because we kissed once that I'm his only date choice.

"Alright, so you have an idea. Why not ask her?"

"Because she could say no and I really do not want to have the conversation that would follow after that."

"What conversation?"

"You know the conversation!" he shouts full of frustration as he stands up from the bench, "The one a girl gives you when she's not interested in you. The one that goes 'It's not you, it's me' or the 'We're just friends' except in this case I'm not even sure we're friends to begin with!" he finishes his rant pacing left and right.

"That seems complicated," is the only thing I can say after a few moments of tense silence.

"Yeah and also what kind of date would be a charity event?"

"A date?" I choke out.

"I just-I've always been good at reading people, I know whether they hate me or they tolerate me. But recently it's been hard to read her."

I listen silently nodding my head from time to time.

"Before, she just rolled her eyes or would just snap back at me but now she listens to me and she worries about me and I just-I like being around her. I just worry it is all just a front and she's simply gonna drop me or tell me we're not actually friends and she just had pity on me and took me for some sort of charity case."

He finishes sitting back down his head in his hands.

"It's my fault. I shouldn't have kissed her." he groans.

I'm thankful for the mask covering my flushed face.

So it is about me.

It couldn't be anyone else. Flash Thompson is a lot of things. Sometimes an idiot, an asshole, even a jerk at times but what everyone always seems to agree on is that Flash Thompson is no player.

"You could always invite her as a friend," I loudly blur out after an awkward pause.

Flash frowns.

"You ask her to be your date and you precise it's as friends," I precise my thought.

"I guess I could try but what if she says no?"

"Well, best case scenario she says yes and you do have a friend. Or worst case scenario, she does pity you and says yes allowing you to hang out with her and convince her to see you as more than that."

He stays silent staring out into the void before snatching his phone out of his pocket.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm calling her right now before I chicken out."

Oh shit!

"Wow! Hey there how about we think about it before we make any rash decision," I say standing up from the bench in a hurry.

"What do you mean? you just told me to ask her."

"Listen," I panic and rack my brain for any last-second plan, "Here's what I propose. You walk back home and think about what you're gonna say to her on the way there, and then you call her once you get there."

He pauses, "Yeah okay, that makes sense."

A buzz startles me and reminds me of my curfew.

Trying to stay calm I hurriedly try to bid my goodbyes.

"O-Okay well, I got to go. Hope it works out for you!" I say carefully stepping backward, "As for me I'm expected somewhere so I'm gonna head there!"

"Oh yeah for sure. That's crazy man, I've always wanted to meet you, and now that it's the case you've just helped me!"

He looks back down at his phone's contact and slowly takes a few steps back nodding to me as a goodbye.

"You know what they say. I'm just your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, emotionally and physically!" I shout jogging back.

When I'm sure he's far enough, I leap into the air and swing away.

"Wait! Can we take a picture-?!" his demand fades as I shoot my next web.

Answering the phone I reassure May I'm on my way and get a few more calls from Flash that I cannot answer.

The last swing sends me to my bedroom window with a thud as I slide the glass panel up and throw my phone in first before climbing inside in a hurry as my cell buzzes again.

"Is that you?!"

"Yeah, I'm home!" I say sliding my mask off before trying to unzip my suit as I stomp around attempting to slip out of the gear.

Jumping on one foot I try to snatch the blue and red material off my feet and trip falling on the cool wooded floor.

"What was that?"

May's panicked tone and the incessant buzz coming from my phone is overwhelming.

Out of breath and my head still on the floor, I raise my hand and blindly pat around my covers before they brush against the device.

I sit myself up with a grunt and bring the phone to my ear.

"Hi!" I say enthusiast and breathless.

"Hi," he answers back abruptly.

"Everything okay?" I ask dipping my elbow amongst my blanket and burying my hand in my hair to ground it.

"Yeah!" he says back quickly with a lighter tone, "Sorry I just thought I would end up leaving a voicemail and now I just don't remember what it is that I wanted to say," he awkwardly confesses.

"Oh yeah sorry about that I was taking a shower," I skillfully lie.

"You often run out of breath after a shower?"

"No! it's just, I left my phone in my room and I heard it in the shower and started panicking the third time it rang I thought something horrible happened," I spew out.

I'm getting really good at this.

"Oh crap, my bad I didn't think it would-" he sighs, "Of course you would think that, I shouldn't have called at this hour I'm sorry I didn't think."

"No! Really it's nothing. What did you call about?"

Silence on the other line. I let it run until I start thinking he must've hung up and asks if he's still there.

"Yeah um, okay so here I go. There's this charity event that happens like every year and it's kind of badly seen to go alone."

My heart speeds up and hammers against my ribcage. It feels like my blood skyrockets through my body leaving an ice-cold feeling behind that gives me chills. This feeling gets stuck in my throat making me believe I'm struggling to breathe.

"And you'd like me to be your plus one?" I attempt to finish the sentence for him.

"Not like a date or anything like that! More like as…friends?" he ends his sentence with hesitation.

Leave the blood impression right now it feels like I was punched in the guts as the air escapes my lungs in a swift.

"Friends?" I repeat meekly to make sure he is comfortable with the term.

"Yeah if you're up to it?" he asks anxiously in return.

I feel frozen for a moment before my eyes are drawn to my wardrobe.

"Yeah of course. I'd love to go with you," I say putting my phone on speaker before laying it down on my bed.

Standing up with a grunt and newfound confidence, I skip to my closet and push stuff back and forth.

"So what type of event is it exactly?"

"Well, it's a charity but it's a charity on the Upper East Side so…there's going to be a lot of snobby people," he says with an awkward chuckle, avoiding talking about our apparent new friendship.

"So," I draw out, "Dressed up."

"Yup," he confirms.

I sigh pushing a few hangers back, "Well I don't think they'd be much impressed with me," I chuckle embarrassed, "When is the event exactly? Maybe I could go grab something that won't cause a public humiliation," I chuckle throwing yet another hanger back with a huge cling.

"That's where you hate me," he says with a pained voice.

Frowning I look at my phone still lying on my bed.

"The event is tomorrow."

My eyes bulge. I don't feel angry, I'm more surprised than anything else.

"Oh, so that really was a last-minute decision to invite me," I try to say light-heartedly.

'Actually, I already know who I want to invite.'

"It wasn't," he replies softly.

I'm getting better at making him open up. A fact that makes me smile, but I realize that I can't push my luck at the risk of going too far and having him close back up in a blink.

Trying to brush off his confession I decide to joke.

"You know Flash, when people invite you to events they tell you days beforehand," I laugh, "Now I don't even have anything worth wearing to your fancy charity!"

"I'm sorry."

"No I'm not mad it's just-I don't want to walk in with a summer dress on," I chuckle trying to reassure him, "And it takes more than a few hours of shopping to find a dress that looks expensive but is not."

"You don't own a black dress?" he asks confused.

"No."

"Not to generalize but I'm ready to bet every girl owns at least one plain black dress."

"I mean I do but it doesn't fit me anymore," I say putting the black dress at least three times too small against my much-grown self.

After a few moments of silence, I start thinking the invitation is gonna be retracted.

"I might have a solution."

"What is it?"

"Can't tell you."

"And why is that?" I frown trying to conceal my offense with a teasing tone.

"Can't tell you either."

"I'm not liking this."

The other line stays silent for a moment.

"Does that mean you don't want to come anymore?"

"No, that's not what I said," I clear up.

"Good, I'll take care of it, and thank you again. Would you like me to pick you up? Tomorrow I mean."

"Oh no, thank you but I'm sure I can find my way around."

"Okay," I wouldn't bet on it but I think I hear the hint of a smile in his words.

"Hum, when does it start? When do I have to arrive exactly?"

"Oh well you know, there is no designated time but people generally arrive later and leave earlier so no pressure."

"Okay so let's say around 9 PM? How does that sound?"

"Awesome."

"Cool," I smile.

I look around my room sheepishly waiting for a goodbye or any other signs he would like to continue the conversation.

Walking to my bed I spin around and let my ankle bump into my bed's rail letting myself fall back on my covers.

"Cool," he repeats.

"Cool," I reiterate chuckling.

"Thanks again, really."

"It's no big deal I'm sure I'm gonna have fun anyways," I say with a smile.

"Well you know it's a charity event so people are gonna do a LOT of talking."

"Why are you making it sound bad," I chuckle.

"I wouldn't say bad, I'd say boring," he says nonchalantly.

"I think I can handle boring for a night."

"I'll take you on that one," he says almost as a challenge.

My door creaks open and May's frown makes my smile drop.

"Hum I'm sorry but I have to go, see you tomorrow."

"Yeah, see you tomorrow."

"Bye."

"Bye."

When the line goes silent I awkwardly sit up waiting for a scolding or a rant or anything else.

"So?" she asks with her brows raised.

I know she's waiting for an explanation but the news is too important, "I might've been invited to an event tomorrow."

The warmth is too much and in the heat, I throw my cover to the side with the help of my feet to turn around and try to go back to sleep in my haze.

Having opened my blinds and window during the heated night to let in the fresh breeze, the sunlight shines through and highlights my cluttered mess of a bedroom.

The usual New York rumble is accompanied by a merry voice.

"Wakey wakey night owl!"

"May," I whine sleepily, "It's the last days of summer, can't you let me oversleep?"

"Nope because you have a package and I've been trying to guess what's in it for about twenty minutes now."

"Huh?" I say with a hoarse voice.

"Come on, stand up!"

"I don't remember buying anything," I try to reason.

"And I don't remember buying anything either so come on up, up!" she says jumping up and down.

Sliding off my bed a box is thrown onto it. A huge white rectangular box closed and flattered by a black bow wrapped around it like a Christmas present.

I groan.

"I know what it is."

"What?"

"I have nothing to wear for the charity and Flash proposed to help but I thought it would just be a quick drop off not…that," I say with a gesture to the box.

"How nice."

"I guess but I'm uncomfortable getting a dress from him. If it wasn't so last minute I would've bought one for myself but-"

"Didn't you say it was a fancy event?"

"Yeah?" I answer not getting her point.

"Rich people smell a fraud it's better if he's the one dressing you up for tonight."

"Dressing me," I bark a laugh, "Flash would not dress me, maybe his mom helped or-"

I'm cut off by the phone going off in the other room.

As May walks out to reach it I admire the simplicity yet classiness of the box. I smile as I fidget with the bow before tugging on it and letting it loose.

Half-listening to May's phone call I push off the ribbon and lift the lid.

"Holy fuck!"

I throw the lid back on top of the box the corner not fitting back properly and let it slide aside.

"I'll call you right back-what?! What happened?!" May says in a hurry with the phone still glued to her ear.

I face her with my back turned away from my bed where the dress is sitting, "I can't wear that."

"Can't wear what?" she asks walking to my bed and opening the box back.

"Oh wow."

"I know."

"This is gorgeous."

"I know, I can't wear that."

"Wait-why not?"

“It’s too much. It’s the kind of dress you wear to attract attention, not just to walk around at a charity event,” I spit out at full speed as May puts the phone back to her ear and asks the person who is on the other line and who has not bothered to hang up to come forward and open the front door which is not locked.

"I think you're overreacting a little bit. It's just a pretty dress."

Listening to her I gather up the courage to turn back around and have another look at the black glittery dress.

"It's too much! He told me it's an event full of snobby rich people and you know what's gonna happen if I wear this around snobby rich people?"

May straightens up and takes a posh accent, "What a promiscuous little lady you are," she scolds before laughing.

"I'm serious!" I whine taking the dress out of the box.

The dress's length reaches the ground and the long sleeves hang loose. As the front of the dress faces Aunt May, the back view horrifies me.

I choke on my gasp and swiftly turn the dress around.

At the view of the open back of the dress May's eyes match mine as they widen like sausages.

"Oh wow now that's promiscuous," she says with no accent or tease this time.

"What was he thinking?!"

"Nothing. I doubt Flash handpicked this dress himself," she speculates feeling the fabric of the dress.

Her observation is followed by the front door shutting and a voice calling out to May.

"We're in here Happy!"

With a frown, I watch as Happy Hogan appears at the threshold of my bedroom.

"What is he doing here?" I question as I point to him with the dress still in my hands.

"Your aunt said you're going out tonight and she didn't want to stay alone so I proposed to stay with her," he says all the while analyzing the dress up and down before pointing to it, "Where did you get that?"

"It's a gift," May explains.

"No! No no no no no, it's temporary, a temporary borrowed and very expensive looking dress."

"Not just looking," Happy informs me.

My body proves that it is in fact possible to get even more tense.

"What do you mean by that exactly?" I ask with a meek voice.

Seeing my distressed face Happy makes eye contact with May, gauging the situation.

"Well I mean," he draws out walking up to me and grabbing the dress raising it to examine the fabric, "It looks like the kind of dress Tony makes me pick up for Pepper so I figured-"

"Oh my god!" I shout throwing the dress back on my bed.

I walk to my nightstand and reach for my phone.

"What are you doing?" May ask.

"I'm canceling," I say hurriedly.

"What? No!" she protests.

Flash's number is already dialed and the phone is placed at my ear as I shoo both of them out of my room.

Hurrying May out I close the door as the fourth dial rings in my ear.

Somehow the sound of his voice allows me to breathe out.

"Hey, what is it?"

"What the fuck Flash!"

The warmth leaves his voice and worry takes its place, "What is it?"

"The dress!"

"What? what's wrong with it, you don't like it?"

"It's too much!" I exclaim.

"Oh crap, I'm sorry."

"What were you thinking?" I said feeling a little guilty knowing he couldn't have guessed that I wouldn't like the dress.

"Hey in my defense I didn't choose the dress."

"Then who did?!"

"Well I wasn't sure so I kinda asked Lea to choose," he hesitates to say.

My brain freezes and a headache is right around the corner, "Wait, isn't she supposed to be on her honeymoon?" I ask pinching my nose and scrunching my eyes closed.

"She was but she's a big part of the charity so she is flying back for tonight and is gonna finish her honeymoon here in New York."

"Oh and so you let her choose a dress for me not thinking that our way of dressing up might be way different?" I ask incredulously.

"You make it sound bad."

"It is Flash!" I shout hyperventilating, "She's a model and this type of dress is made for the runway, not charity, and not on me."

"Wait so the problem is that it doesn't fit?"

"No!" I groan falling back on my bed beside the same dress that is making me break down.

"I'm sorry but I'm having a hard time understanding the problem right now, do you hate the dress is that what it is?"

"No, I don't hate the dress," I say.

It's true I like the dress, it's a pretty dress.

"Have you tried it on?"

I pause and answer 'no' in a tone that says it should be obvious to him that I would never try on a brand-name dress.

"So what's the issue exactly? You don't dislike the dress and you haven't tried it on so you can't complain that it doesn't fit, so what's up?"

"It's not a normal dress," I explain as a matter of fact.

"A normal dress?" I can hear the tease in his tone.

"Yes, a normal dress." I reiterate.

"And what is a normal dress exactly?"

"A dress that doesn't look like it was made in a studio in a fancy part of Beverly Hills!"

"Okay, I understand, Lea has a particular style."

"And Lea knows how to walk around with people's eyes on her!" I shout convinced that he now understands my point of view, "I just-" I sigh, "I don't want to walk in there and have people looking at me and judging me, especially rich snobby people."

"Oh if that's what scares you I can reassure you right now and tell you that no one will pay you any attention."

"You haven't seen the dress," I say as a matter of fact.

"No, but I can tell you that standing beside me as my da-my plus one, everyone will obviously be too busy admiring me to be paying you any mind."

I snort and try to muffle the noise by cupping my mouth but the unflattering cackle reaches the other end of the phone.

I know he's reassured now that I laughed but it doesn't erase my worry.

I calm down and weigh my request before verbalizing it.

"Could you drive me to the event?" I decided to just come out with it hoping for the best.

"What happened to taking the bus?" He asks genuinely.

"Again, you haven't seen the dress and I'd rather not travel around Queens dressed to the nines. I just want to be safe, you know?"

I know that my safety isn't at risk but dressed like that, a judging stare would be as dreadful as a wandering hand.

I can't hear him but I'm certain he nods agreeing with me.

"Well, it would be an honor to be your knight in shining armor for the night knowing you're actually my savior," he jokes, "But sadly there isn't any carriage available so we will have to settle for my car, I hope that's alright."

"Oh what a shame, I expected nothing less than the fanciest vehicle," I chuckle.

"Sorry Cinderella but fairy godmother only managed to get the dress."

"And I still wonder how she managed to do that," I say turning on my side and feeling the fabric.

"That's a secret…Try the dress on and call me back to tell me how it fits. Or better yet text me, It's kind of crazy around here today."

It is only now that I realize there is noise around him, a lot of noise and that makes me gather that he must already be over there helping to set everything up and I'm here having a meltdown and calling him having a tantrum about a dress.

"I'm so sorry I didn't, I mean if I knew you were busy I would've-"

"No no, it's alright really-" He tries to chime in.

"No I mean you're probably busy, I can't believe I didn't think of that-" I ramble before he cuts me off.

"No really, you're a life-savor Parker. Those events are old-fashioned and you're like forced to have someone with you and I really didn't want to spend my entire night answering the same question over and over again-"

It's his turn to ramble and I find myself listening on liking the idea of him opening up to me.

It is not every day that I get to listen to Flash Thompson ramble, let alone to me.

"It's annoying when people crowd you and ask why you don't have a date with you and they end up dissecting what must be wrong with you to not have a girl on your arm."

"Sounds annoying."

"It is. Sometimes I manage to avoid that kind of event but for this one my family is in charge so," He finishes dragging his word.

"You are forced to participate."

He confirms and gets interrupted by another voice. I frown trying to listen and make up a bit of the conversation going on before he comes back to the line with a sigh.

"I'm sorry it's a bit crazy right now. My mom always goes nuts the day of these events," he says as I can hear Mme.Thompson shouting in the back.

"Okay, that's my cue. Try the dress on and text me okay?"

"Sure," I say with a smile.

"Bye," he says along with another sentence that I cannot decipher, presumably aimed at someone else before the line dies and I'm left lying on my bed retracing the conversation.

I look at the dress once more. The sparkles look more and more inviting instead of revolting and I stand back up fixing myself before I open the door to face both May and Happy.

Making awkward eye contact I see that they are half bent toward my door before they stand straight up and cough to ease the tension.

After a moment of silence where my gaze is enough judgment, I speak up and ask for help.

"Can you help me do my hair?"

Meddling with the final strand of my hair May stands back to admire her work as I add the final touch to my makeup applying the red lipstick with precision.

Closing the cap I stand up and have an overall look at myself as May squeals and hands me my jacket. She asks a few more questions when I head to the door and check if I have everything I need placed in the pouch she lent me for the night.

My brain barely has time to register the questions before I hum and give a half-assed answer as I put my jacket on and try to exit the apartment.

I turn around to hear her give me rule after rule for the night.

"Flash drives you to the event, you stay at this event," she points out referring to the birthday incident where the only reason I wasn't grounded was the fact that my exit saved me from a potential wound from the blowout of fireworks.

"You have your fun and you come home at 1 AM. Not 2, not 3, 1 AM, got it?"

I nod.

"And Flash drives you back, no one else, Flash."

"Yes," I say a bit exasperated.

"And you stay glued to him all night."

"Yes, Aunt May I promise! Can I go now he's waiting for me outside," I lie.

He's not waiting for me outside, as a matter of fact I haven't even sent him a message informing him I'm ready for him to pick me up.

"Okay be careful-And text me both when you arrive and when you're coming home."

I nod at her as I walk backward to the elevator and watch as she smiles before closing the apartment door. I huff loudly and turn around to look down to my phone texting Flash that I'm ready and will be waiting for him outside.

It's when I'm halfway down the elevator that my phone rings.

"Yes?"

"Hey, I just got your text and huh," he draws out.

I don't answer and just let him bask in the silence of the line.

"I'm sorry things were crazy. I'm just now getting ready."

"Wait you're getting ready?! Then when are you coming to pick me up?" I ask walking out of the elevator and pushing the door of the apartment building open letting the New York ambiance bask me in its hurriedness.

The breeze reaches me and I rub my arm getting used to the weather slipping up the back of my jacket and biting at my open back when I notice a…no way.

"Flash what did you do?"

"What-what do you mean what did I do?" he stutters.

"I mean why is there a guy looking at me waiting by a car that looks like it's worth more than the neighborhood," my question is more of a statement.

I hear him curse under his breath.

"I'm really sorry. She told me she would be subtle."

"Who?" I ask taking my eyes off the supposed driver.

"My mom. I told her I had to come to get you but she still needed me around so I insisted and even said I'd call you to push back our meeting but she said it would be disrespectful and that she would send someone."

I stay silent processing all of it.

"I'm sorry I wanted to call and tell you but I just got to my room."

I look back up to the driver and make eye contact before we exchange hasty smiles.

I sigh thinking of this all over walking down the stairs one by one slowly.

"Okay, I guess it wasn't really in your power. But you better be here when I arrive I will not show up and walk around alone." I say firmly.

"Of course," he says in all seriousness.

Telling him I'll see him soon, I hang up and focus my gaze on the driver as I approach him.

"Miss Parker?"

I nod before confirming my identity verbally.

He then motions to the car before opening the door and gesturing for me to step in.

When it clicks shut I am left with the silence of the empty vehicle.

As the buildings go by and I get closer to the venue my stress level rises and I start fidgeting and falling into a cycle of grabbing my phone, second-guessing texting Flash, and then abandoning the idea and letting my body fill up with more anxiety.

The arrival doesn't stop that nagging feeling that causes goosebumps to rush down my spine, that or the wind nipping at my back through my coat.

Walking up the stairs my nerves run wild through my body as my legs shake walking up the stairs.

Reaching the top, I make eye contact with a man standing in front of the doors. Approaching him carefully, I struggle to find my voice and I am cut off in my stutter as he guesses my last name.

Confused, I confirm his guess and my frown must ring a bell for him as he turns to the door, "I was informed that one of Mme.Thompson's guests would arrive alone and I'm guessing it's you," he says as he buzzes me in.

I nod to him as a thank you and continue to walk ahead this time on a soft and long red carpet instead of stone.

The voices, which were mere mumbles turn into booming voices coming from every corner of the room and my coat is starting to make me sweat reminding me that I'll have to discard it soon.

The thought makes me sweat even more.

Like fate, my eyes scan my surroundings and immediately fall on him standing in front of the counter right beside Lea.

He's fidgety and I see Lea receiving a glass of alcohol before making eye contact with me as she nods in my direction.

I feel hands on my shoulders and jolt stepping aside to see who touched me. I see a man who stumbles back apologizing and realize he is trying to gather my coat to let me join the crowd and a cold sweat replaces the regular sweat.

As the fabric leaves my shoulder my voice stays stuck in my throat and instead, a small squeak manages to slither out.

Still looking for my voice, I turn to him walking away with my coat.

I'm left standing there helpless.

When I see the man disappear I turn back to my previous position to look back at Flash when I see him getting hit behind the head and scolded by Lea. I also notice the glass now empty on the counter as I hear his voice more distinctly dismissing Lea with a 'Whatever' as he rushes to my side.

"He took my jacket," I husher panicked but still trying to be subtle.

"I'm sorry," he says sincerely taking off his jacket.

"I feel naked," I whisper.

"I'm so sorry," he reiters putting his jacket on my shoulders before ushering me to walk ahead leading us towards Lea at the bar.

His hand is placed on my back flaring shiver with the new sensation of his hand on my back, or maybe it is just the fresh jacket on me?

My brain focuses back and sets on Lea greeting me.

With her asking how I've been I let my hand play with the jacket and nod along with the conversation. Flash himself messes with the blazer by first securing it over my shoulder and then playing with the sleeves that hang loosely.

When my mind stops fixating on him, I blink in surprise when my ears register an apology coming from Lea about the dress. I try to protest and instead thank her for the last-minute save when Flash's mother appears to join and inform us that we need to scatter around.

I stand clueless for a moment before I feel his hand on my back gently pushing me to walk alongside him.

Led around once more I decide to stop being dragged around like a clueless puppet and tug the hand placed on my back to entertwine our arms and walk together instead of letting him direct me around.

I don't talk much. I mostly nod and answer small questions here and there.

The evening runs along pretty smoothly as each interaction the two of us have only lasts few minutes before Flash skillfully finds a way to bid our goodbyes and walk us to yet another couple beckoning us over.

"Oh no."

"What is it?" I ask him trying to glance in the direction he was looking at to see an older lady standing there motioning us to join her.

"That's Garret's grandmother."

"And she's a mean old lady," I deduct.

"No worse, she's a passive-aggressive bitch."

I'm taken aback by his name-calling and look back at the woman waiting impatiently for us.

"I think she's waiting for us," I suggest.

"Okay, don't talk and stay close to me," he instructs.

"You mean like I've been doing for the past hour and a half?"

My teasing provokes a smile to appear on his face for a moment but it quickly disappears when his head turns back to the lady as he walks us toward her.

I hug his arm getting closer to him as he uses his opposite hand and brings it to our linked arms as a sort of comfort I'm guessing.

"Eugene," she beckons us over with a honeyed voice.

Her mask falls for a moment and I can see a glimpse of irritation before, like any other influential figure, she morphs her face into a more pleased expression.

"Madam Pennington," Flash says with an edge.

I first think that his tone might've been hesitation, but that changes when the woman gets that sour look back on her face and I realize his tone is subtly bitter.

Without trying, my brain does the math in a matter of seconds and I realize that if Flash refers to her with another last name than Garret's it must mean she is divorced.

She makes eye contact with me as my face must've shown that I figured Flash's comment out and her burning stare drives me to get closer to him for protection.

He clears his throat driving her murderous stare back to him as I abandon the idea of nodding along to their conversation and instead subtly look around the room.

The buffet, the people, anything other than the two of them.

"My grandson seems to be upset. When I tried talking to him about it he refused to speak but I did overhear that you two fought over a girl," she ends her sentence looking at me up and down.

"And by overhear you mean that you snooped around against your grandson's wish," his argument is aimed not only at defending himself but McCoy's privacy as well which surprises me.

"Excuse you?"

Her voice getting louder I notice McCoy himself standing just a few feet away from us looking at his grandmother about to blow a fuse and I decide to diffuse the tension.

"I believe your grandson is looking for you," I say nodding toward him standing there frozen, "And Flash your mother is looking for us over there."

Pushing him into motion I look back to see Garret approaching his grandmother but decide to not dwell on the talk they're about to have.

"Are you okay?" I ask as we hurry away from them.

He doesn't answer and just nods with a hum. He does however ask where his mother is and that's when I frown.

"You know I made it up so we could flee the conflict, right?"

He stops in his tracks before turning to me and I can see the gears turning in his head.

"Oh, yeah."

We keep eye contact and it must take a toll on him because he then avoids my stare and decides to look forward, all stiff.

I'm guessing the only reason he doesn't flee is the fact that our arms are still tangled together but I don't want to let go.

Maybe it's selfish but since the last time we talked, or more precisely the last we talked and I was not in gear, he ran away and ghosted me.

I want an explanation.

"This place is beautiful," I say looking around at the structure trying to pry a conversation out of him.

"I have something to tell you."

His tone is particular and I can't make out if he's hopeful or desperate.

My own tone embarrasses me as I egg him on full of anticipation.

"There's this type of dance and-" he cuts himself off and stares behind us.

Turning around, I spot McCoy staring right back at him.

"Not again," I hear him say under his breath.

I want to ask him if he's gonna be okay or if he'd like me to stay with him to talk to Garret but he shakes my hands off his arm and grabs it before taking off in the direction of the stairs.

"Come on follow me."

I can only let out a small squeal of surprise before catching up with his footing as the previous noisy venu dies down when we reach the second floor.

Once up there he doesn't stop and continues to sprint down the hall before taking a turn and tugging me to a corner away from McCoy.

My back is placed against the wall and I rearrange the jacket on my shoulders as I see Flash look around the corner to see if Garret is following us.

I suppose he gave up the idea as Flash visibly relaxes and turns back to me.

The proximity reminds me of that night at the laser game and the sudden look on his face tells me he must reminisce as well.

He knows that I know what we're both thinking about because we avoid eye contact and I let my eyes bounce between the multiple decors as a decoy.

"This place is beautiful. I wonder what it would feel to go to sleep in a place like that," I try to deflect from the tension.

"It's like any other place, you go to bed and you fall asleep," he brushes off trying to avoid the tension as well.

The simple statement makes me turn back to him and make eye contact as the realization slowly sets in.

"No."

"No, what?" he frowns.

"You slept here before?" my question sounds more like a statement.

"Yeah."

"But you live like 20 minutes away."

"Oh so now you know where I live Parker?"

My eyes widen at his insinuation.

I'm not a stalker!

"Well after you pointed out that I didn't know where you lived I was curious. If anything you're the one who told me I should know where you lived."

"Yeah and by that I meant coming over not googling my address."

"I did not Google your address!" I lie, "You're making me look bad!"

My restlessness makes him laugh.

Still chuckling he points ahead silently asking me to follow him.

"It's more of a tradition. My mom wants us to stay and sleep here every year," he says walking peacefully beside me.

It's a change compared to his erratic running just a few minutes ago.

"So you also slept at the fairytale mansion?"

"Fairytale mansion?"

"Yeah, the one where Lea got married."

Confused, it takes him a few seconds before his frown disappears and his mouth opens with an 'Oh'.

"Yeah," he simply says opening a door as I stand here frozen.

I know he probably wants me to enter but I'm confused and look at him waiting for an explanation.

He doesn't answer and instead walks inside reaching the other side of the bed to retrieve something.

With hesitation, I take a cautious step in looking around as if the room is full of boobie traps when I hear a dull thump and look back to see him throwing a gym bag on the queen-sized bed.

It must be the glamour of the night inhibiting my ability to be logical at times because it takes me a few seconds before my confusion turns into curiosity.

"Is that your bag?"

"No, I just love going through other people's stuff."

I don't answer or laugh and just raise my brows.

"Yes Parker, It's my bag."

I relax and close the door behind me before walking toward the bed warily and sitting down softly as the mattress sinks under me.

"I thought if I have to run away from Garret, why not pause before going back out there?" he explains throwing a book on the bed covers.

He dives back into his bag as I grab the book.

"Hey, I know that book!" I note joyfully.

I see him stop scrambling through his bag and look back up at me.

"Really?" he hesitates.

"Yeah I talked about it with Susan on your birthday. Usually, she's not into these kind of books but she's been watching a show similar to it so I mentioned it to her."

When he doesn't answer and doesn't make a move to dive back into his bag, another question comes troubling me.

"By the way, how did you hear about this book?"

"Oh um, someone told me about it," he says fumbling with the clothes inside the bag.

"Really? Who?" I ask knowing this isn't his type of book.

He doesn't answer and I assume it must be Garret who told him about the book and he simply doesn't wanna talk about him.

"You know as much as I don't like Garret, he's been your friend for years," I tip-toe around the issue and remember that he must not know about the video I saw where he's going off on McCoy and his clique.

"And?"

"And. With such a great taste in books, how could you not forgive him?" I try to turn the tension into something lighter with a chuckle gesturing to the book.

His frown turns into surprise, "Oh yeah, yeah! It's Garret who told me about it a few weeks ago."

"I never thought Garret would be the kind of guy who reads outside of school," I try to say without sounding mean.

A flash of red in my peripheral vision attracts my attention to turn away from the papercover and fills me with excitement when I recognize the sight.

"You brought him!" I say gripping the plushy and letting the book fall back on the covers.

He seems satisfied with my reaction and tugs his bag to fall back down before he too takes a seat beside me.

I lean down with my feet dangling as my back makes contact with the lavish bedding.

I take a look over at the Spiderman plushy wondering if in the small period of time any harm came his way. My detective work comes out dry as the plush doesn't seem to have been put under any distress when I hear him lay down as well.

I turn my gaze to him ready to make another joke and congratulate him on the plush's wellbeing when I see him already looking back at me and lose my smile as the memories flash back.

The muffled music, the way his curls were laying on his bed. He's been growing them out.

I like his hair long.

I like his lips too.

The calmness I feel is cut short when the bedroom door swings open and the sound of heels thud on the carpeted ground.

I raise up in my seat in a rush and grip the plushy hard against my chest in a panic as if I had just been caught having sex.

"Jee! Ever heard of knocking?!" he shouts sitting up after me.

"Coming from you?" Lea says looking up and down at him with an incredulous expression.

He sighs. I don't know if it comes from annoyance or relief from the previous scene.

"I've been looking for you two, your mother sent me to get you, come on now it's about to start," she says turning back on her heels and pulling the door behind her to leave it half closed waiting for us to join her.

"What's about to start?" I wonder looking at him after admiring her walk away.

The face I find makes mine fall. The paleness and distress plastered on his face makes me feel like I'm about to be the butt of the joke.

His blank stare angers me and figuring out I won't get any explanation from him I jump on my feet straightening the jacket on my shoulder to run after her.

Any other day it would've been to get an autograph but right now my only hope is to get reassured that all of it is just a huge misunderstanding.

Surely 'It's about to start' cannot be that bad? Maybe just a toast, or a speech?

"What's about to start?" I say trying to catch up to her but my question goes unanswered when we reach the top of the stairs and I see the Thompson matriarch taking the venue by storm as she speaks up in the middle of the stairs with her voice reasoning through the immense space.

"Ladies and gentlemen!"

I hear her call out before my arm is engulfed and my gaze is redirected to him.

"I'm sorry, I wanted to tell you really, but I kept being interrupted and then there was Garret and then we had a moment of calm and we started to talk and-"

"This evening has been fulfilling and I enjoy each and every one of your presence-"

My ears cannot keep up in between the two speeches. I'm even more overwhelmed when I realize that Lea has left us at the top of the split stairs, walked beside Aliyah, and joined her newlywed husband down the stairs.

"The time has come, and I know you enjoy it as much as I do," she says with a cheeky smile and a look of knowledge across the room sending the surroundings into a fit of chuckles.

"So now. I invite you to take your partner by the arm, and let's join each other in the other room so the waltz can take place."

The end of her speech sends a cold sweat down my back and I turn back to him unable to scream.

I'm speechless and incapable of voicing my anger and frustration.

The words want to come out but my brain is mushing together my two arguments, the one where I tear him a new one for not warning me or the one where I yell that I don't know how to dance.

Why didn't he think of inviting someone who knows how to dance?!

"A waltz?! I don't even know how to dance!" I say loudly enough to share my panic and frustration without attracting any looks.

His newest excuse gets cut off by his mother reaching us at the top of the stairs, " What are you two still doing here, come on chop chop," she finishes clapping her hands to drive us to hurry downstairs.

Another gasp fights its way into my lungs when I realize I'm about to disappoint her as well.

It's only logical for her son to dance in an event she organized.

I'm standing here looking like an idiot with my mouth wide open when my own voice surprises me, "I don't know how to dance!" I say point-blank.

"Of course you do! You went to the same elementary school and I distinctly remember your grade took ball lessons," she says proudly.

The new information confuses me and I doubt the woman's memory.

Maybe she's confusing me with another girl.

Not knowing how to question her or flatly deny her version of the event, I start to babble as I notice Lea walking back up the stairs with her arm under her husband's.

"No-I. I don't. I mean-I never," I ramble, any argument dying on my tongue leaving me a stuttering mess.

I don't know how to word my sentence when my eyes notice Flash's face getting sour the more his mother insists.

"Mom she said she doesn't want to," he says dryly.

I don't know if it's out of annoyance or out of shame but both possibilities are taking a toll on me and I feel the tears coming alongside the lack of oxygen.

"Well, what do you propose we do? Your father isn't here so I can't dance and one of us needs to!"

"We've been hosting this event every year for 5 years now I think we can sit this one out," he says somewhat confidently.

"I would've liked a bit of a heads up Eugene," Aliyah scolds him through her teeth.

Yeah, me too.

"They're waiting for us. Flash come on, come dance with me," Lea says extending her hand to him and taking a look at her proposal I see Mme.Thompson's bulb light up atop her head.

"You didn't even tell her there would be a dance?!" Her accusation seems rhetorical as the deep frown on her face doesn't seem ready to welcome any excuses.

He scrunches his eyes close and rubs them but doesn't answer and opens them back up to look at me.

I see regret and wonder if he regrets inviting me. A ball clogs my throat and I try to stay as stone-faced as possible instead of making a scene by dropping on the stairs and starting to ball like a baby.

He breathes in before following Lea's lead and I stop him. Placing my hand on his chest, I then shrug off the jacket he gave me and hand it back to him, my subconscious somehow realizing he would need it to look put together.

He walks down the stairs as his mother softly takes my arm under hers.

"I'm sorry, I would think my son would have the decency to tell you about this," she sighs as we walk down the stairs.

"But then again I should have known better with how different he's been acting lately."

I didn't intend to answer but that last bit of rant resonates with me and the wave of embarrassment and sadness I feel take a step back to leave place to my curiosity.

"Yeah I think Lea made a comment about it," I say looking at his back.

He suddenly turns his head around and looks at me following him before he turns back around and walks ahead taking his place with Lea in the middle of the room with the others.

Mme.Thompson stops us to stand around the crowd around the room and leave enough space for the others to dance in the middle of it.

Taking her attention away from me, she nods away seemingly to someone before music starts resounding in the area.

"I shouldn't burden you with that," she says with a warm smile while she rubs my arm in comfort.

"Oh no it doesn't burden me. I just hope he gets better."

My well wishes widen her smile.

"I'm glad he has you to hang out with," she says warmly.

"You're a good influence on him. and I can only hope you two stay close, it's not every day my son doesn't complain about this event."

"Yes, he told me about that. He was very thankful for saving him from those stares about him not having a date," I remember our conversation.

"Stares? Why would anyone stare at him fo not having a date?"

I frown, "You know. The rule about having a date for this charity in fear of being the talk of the night," I say trying to nudge her to remember.

"There was never such a rule. Who told you that? Eugene? Léa?"

I'm left speechless and with my mouth hanging open as the frown orning my face doesn't subside.

Her own frown is quickly replaced by a smile before she abruptly apologizes when a woman motions her over.

The loss of her arm is like a warm blanket has been ripped away making me notice the stares I was previously blind to.

A couple stares at me while another switches their stare back and forth between me and Flash, probably wondering why his date is not the one in his arms.

I look at him and see he's arguing with Léa while they waltz around and the sight would impress me if I wasn't confused as to why they look like they're ready to bite at each other's throat.

Another peep and I see that same man watching me with a nasty look before not-so-subtly whispering to his wife who makes eye contact with me before she answers him with a snarky smile.

I look around trying to convince myself I'm being tricked by my own paranoia when I start hearing my own intakes of breath and know it's a sign that it's all getting too much.

In my panic and without Ms.Thompson around to take my mind off things, I search for his face and find him already looking at me.

The panic sets in my chest and I know I need to step out for fresh air but I hesitate to do so in worry of the scene looking bad to the public.

Feeling the meltdown creeping up closer and closer, I look around and notice an arch under the stairs leading to a hallway and remember seeing multiple people passing through during the night and I conclude it must be the path towards a bathroom.

Sending a tense smile his way, I turn around to walk away.

Getting closer to my goal I step aside to let someone exit before walking in and locking the bathroom door behind me.

With the door shutting off most other noise from outside, I stand in front of the mirror and take a deep breath filling my lungs and trying to shake my head off those thoughts before hanging my head down and blowing out.

I raise my head and look at myself in the mirror to see the tears pricking my eyes and silently scold myself before reaching for a towel and trying my best to chase away the tears without messing up my mascara.

Another breath in and I take in my appearance one more time giving myself a pep talk before straightening my dress and deciding to go back out there before anyone starts to whisper about a possible date on the run.

I wouldn't want him to be surrounded.

Or maybe he'd like me to go.

I remember his face, the one he had on those damn stairs where I wondered why I accepted his invitation and why I let myself believe it could be that easy.

I violently shake my head off those thoughts and unlock the door ready to indulge the rest of this night before cutting all contact with Flash Thompson as I hear the distant music flooding back in my ears.

Lost in my thoughts I run straight into someone.

"I'm so sorry I-" My automatic response is cut short when I recognize him and the words get stuck in my throat.

"Hi," he blurs out.

I can only say hi back coldly as I believe any other response would send me back into the bathroom to place another tissue under my eyes.

"I swear I was gonna tell you."

His voice breaks the silence and when my ears register his words, I can't respond and instead walk around him to the other side of the hallway with my mind fixed on the idea that tonight was a mistake.

"No need to say sorry Flash-" I say nonchalantly, done with this poor decision of mine to accept his invitation.

"But I want to!"

I mess with a bust displayed on a table and let my finger slide on the statue trying to avoid his stare.

"Listen, it's completely my fault and I'm an idiot for not telling you. I was freaking out when I asked you to come here with me and I had my mind set so hard on you telling me you wouldn't come that when you said yes I was taken by surprise and the dance completely slipped off my mind."

I listen on with a frown. I stop messing with the bust and turn around leaning on the table as I look down avoiding his stare.

"My mom was the one who reminded me of it and then you called freaking out about the dress so I focused on that and I forgot again and then you walked in with your dress and then there was Garret's grandma and then Garrett and everything else followed so when there was just the two of us I just couldn't remember. And then Léa came in and you looked so sad and scared and angry I didn't know what to do."

I stand there listening to him spit out everything weighing on him before he suddenly breathes in for the first time and looks at me.

"I'm so sorry. I really am."

His gaze traps me and the remorse drowning his irises drains the anger out of me.

"You also lied about the date rule," I say, my voice barely able to convey any emotion.

I don't even find it in myself to yell at him, any scolding coming to mind being one he already gave himself.

"I'm an idiot and a coward and I completely get it if you never want to talk to me again."

At that I don't even know what to answer.

I did say I'd cut all contact with Flash Thompson after tonight but just a few weeks back I would've also said I'd never talk to him outside of schoolwork.

"Okay," I say after a while of silence trying to set us back in a way we can both be comfortable discussing with each other.

"If we're going on an apology spree I think I should be apologizing as well."

"What could you possibly have to apologize for? I'm the one who invited you last minute, so last minute that you didn't even have anything to wear."

I hear his step closing up on me before I put distance between us and walk back and forth down the hall.

"You invited me here to be your partner and I couldn't even participate in the important part of the night. Then there were the stairs and then people were talking and looking at you and Lea and then at me and it was all just so-"

My apology turns into a ramble and the simple retelling of the event produces that same panic inside of me.

Getting ready to excuse myself to go to the bathroom a second time, I turn around to see him standing right behind me. I can't look at him and instead focus my gaze on the floor trying to breathe properly when I feel his arms gently wrap around me and pull me in for a hug.

My finger messes with the fabric at the back of his jacket as my face is buried in the front of it trying to hide my face and not make eye contact.

I fool myself into thinking if I avoid eye contact with him we will stop talking in circles or better yet stop avoiding each other like the plague.

I also hope this way he won't see me on the verge of crying for the second time tonight.

"If anything," he says using my words as I feel his hand come up to stroke my hair, "I'm the one who should've thought better than to think you would still remember those dance classes," he says in a lighter tone.

I recognize his attempt to lighten up the situation and change the topic.

His comment makes me frown and against the warm feeling blossoming in my chest, I lift my face from the depth of his jacket to look at him.

"Yeah your mom talked about that but I don't think I ever took any dance classes, I think she mistook me for someone else."

His face, previously relaxed, falls and a sympathetic smile appears, "No you did," he says quietly, matching the hushed hallway.

My knitted brows are enough indication for him to continue his explanation.

He exhales through his nose and looks down messing with my hand to avoid making eye contact, "It was back when we were…around six? Seven?"

My confusion only deepens as I'm unable to rack my brain for a memory when I feel him tug on my hand gently drawing me closer to him and my frown turns into a muted gasp.

I don't have time to ask what he is doing when he laces our hands together and asks me in the quietest voice if he can.

It is then I realize he's asking to put his hand on my bare back to, I assume, teach me how to waltz.

I can't find my voice, the situation taking me aback so much so that instead of voicing my consent I decide to instead nod and place his hand myself to reassure him of my agreement.

I did not realize that my back was cold, most likely due to getting used to the lack of coverage but I feel it now as his hand feels hot against it.

My full attention is on him before my eyes are drawn down as I see him taking a step forward driving me to respond and step backward.

The motion has me uncontrollably giggling as my left foot follows his right to step to the side.

"Why exactly are we doing this right now?" I ask with another titter.

"Doing what?"

"Dancing Flash," I laugh, "Waltzing in the hallway."

"Dusting up memories. Proving to you that you do know how to dance or if you're right, to teach you how to waltz to apologize for not telling you there would be a dance."

My previous smile falls and I tilt my head back with a loud sigh.

"I apologized again," he awkwardly notices.

"Yes Flash, stop apologizing," I say looking at him straight in the eyes and raising my brows to emphasize my demand.

"I can't, I feel bad."

I reposition my hand on his shoulder with a light stroke as I squeeze our hands letting us continue swaying gently.

I find myself frustrated at his confession when my brain clears up and suddenly remember our last time together.

He feels bad about not telling me about the dance but he doesn't feel bad about running off the last time we saw each other?!

I remember waiting an entire week for a call or even a text. Jumping to my phone at every notification hoping it was him giving me an explanation for running off on me.

I force myself to brush it off when the feeling of his thumb stroking my back envelops me in a daze I want to hold onto until the night inevitably ends.

"Let's call it even then. You didn't tell me about the dance and I couldn't fulfill my side of the bargain."

"It wasn't a bargain, you just did me a favor."

I can't argue back and decide to look away.

"See, you're doing it."

I look back at him with panic thinking he's going to call me out on my avoidant stare and start a new argument when I see him smile before I notice that he's talking about us dancing and it is then that I look down and realize I'm naturally mirroring his movements.

I laugh impressed at myself before looking back at him as we acknowledge my accomplishment.

Our shared smile diminishes as he stops our dance.

"I didn't invite you because I was desperate," he confesses, "I just really wanted to hang out with you."

I stand there frozen before he gently nudges me sending us back into a soft waltz.

His honesty stuns me and I follow his lead again.

"I think it might be the first time you've been honest with me," It's my turn to confess.

"I don't always lie," he defends himself.

"No, but you never opened up like that before."

I see him trying to avoid eye contact and I silently scold myself as my words seem to drive him away once again.

"I like that," I quickly follow up.

That does it. his eyes raise back to meet mine.

"Why don't you do it more often?"

At that, he seems to hesitate as we gently sway side to side.

"You know friends share their feelings," I remind him of our conversation yesterday where he invited me to come here as a friend.

I can see that the memory rings a bell as he stops our movement once more.

I see his eyes desperate to say something but he's struggling with himself to find the right words as I witness his mouth open and close over and over again.

"See, like riding a bike. It comes back naturally," he manages to say stepping back trying to avoid the subject.

"You're doing it again," I say trying my best to not sound frustrated.

He huffs and slides his hand down his face.

He huff?!

How is he the one pissed off right now?!

I cross my hands taking a harsher stance.

"Okay, you said open so I'm gonna be open," he says fidgeting around.

"If you want us to be friends, you can't expect me to just tell you everything that goes through my head at every moment."

I sigh, "I guess it's fair."

My response appears to relax him.

"But," he interjects, "I guess I could make an effort."

I smile despite myself and look away to try and hide the fact that he turned the situation around once again.

My attempt fails when he looks for my face to catch me smile.

I turn away but he walks around me trying to catch me.

In a last attempt, I hid my face on the verge of laughter.

"Hey wait, you're cheating!" he protests with a chuckle.

I feel his hand on my wrists and yet he doesn't use force to uncover my face.

We stay like this for a moment before I muster the courage to slide my hands away from my eyes and meet his.

He smiles back and that feeling comes again, the one where I feel electricity run through my body.

Like the night he kissed me.

I feel frozen in space like I'm only able to breathe and blink.

He gets closer, so close that our forehead touches and I instinctively close my eyes waiting to feel his lips on mine like that night.

He's so close and yet doesn't make a move to close the distance between us. It makes me groan internally when I remember he's probably waiting for me to make a move.

He's literally two inches away from me and I'm still here what more does he need? for me to swing a flare in the air? Scream at him at the top of my lungs to kiss me?

The tension is suffocating and it's cut short when I feel a breeze of air where I should feel him.

"Thank you, I really wanted to dance with Lea. And don't be mad, I promise, you'll get a dance too," he says cheekily as I stand there completely confused.

He's quick to hold my shoulders and push us to the side. It's when I get my senses back and see a man walk past us to access the bathroom.

I get the answer I'm looking for when I look back at him and see him smile at me.

That's when I have to hold back my laugh with him as the bathroom door closes.

Placing my hand on my mouth, I snort before I see an arm presented to me and look up to see Flash waiting for me.

With the tension now gone I happily hold his arm as he directs us away from the lonely hallway to the booming evening when we cross paths with Mme.Thompson.

"There you are!" she says joyfully.

"I was talking to a few colleagues and they were adamant that I at least ask you to join us."

I open my mouth trying to find the words to politely decline when her son beats me to it.

"No Mom I think it's time for her to go home. Her aunt will kill me if I don't drive her back before 1."

Sharing her chagrin, Mme.Thompson bids me her goodbyes before she shares a look with Flash and tells him to come back as soon as possible telling him he'll be spending time with Garret.

The end of her sentence isn't met with agreement or joy but silence as I'm ushered outside with the cold temperature that doesn't get to reach me before I feel his jacket engulf my shoulders once again.

Another gesture he makes is to offer his hand to help me walk down the stairs of the building. I pause and look down at my heels and conclude like him that it's going to be harder to step down the stairs than it was to climb them.

The thought makes me laugh to myself before I accept his hand and carefully make my way down with another set of giggles.

"I'm never borrowing heels from May ever again," I manage to let out in between giggles.

"Miss Parker forgot to calculate the probability that those heels were gonna be a problem?"

The remark takes me by surprise and makes me stumble.

I crouch to make sure I don't end up face-first on the concrete and my position makes me snort as I hide my face behind my hands and kneel in the middle of the stairs to ground myself.

From any other perspective, I look drunk and I'm being chaperoned by Harrison Thompson's son.

My laugh turns into a fit and I'm left laughing out loud, gripping my aching stomach and praying the feeling doesn't kill me.

"Okay I think I got it, sit down," he says laughing about my situation.

Lost in my euphoria I barely manage to sit up on one of the stairs waiting to see his plan to help me down.

I try to calm myself down when he stands in front of the stairs and places my hands on his shoulders. I finally understand his idea when I'm lifted in the air by my hips and grip his shoulder in a reflex as I'm left gasping when I land on the ground.

I gaze at him and his previous smile falls a bit as he stands there with a blank expression.

I'm almost sure I see his eyes switch to my lips.

"Sorry," he apologizes for his sudden plan to get me down those stairs with a small smile trying his luck at diffusing the tension.

I reassure him before he gently directs me to his car.

The silence is calming and comfortable and I notice I had never been in his car before.

I bask in the comfort, all giddy as I look outside the window admiring the city I love to swing in so much.

He chimes in with small talks here and there and in my new feeling of serenity, I mindlessly make one-word answers.

After a while of admiring the scenery, I look back inside the car when I notice him fidgeting around looking tense.

"Is everything okay?"

"Are you mad?" he asks as his hand tightens up on the steering wheel.

"No, why do you ask?" I return the question fidgeting in my seat to get more comfortable.

"I don't know, you don't talk much. Usually I can't get you to stop talking," he says scratching his face before returning his focus to the road, his side eye gauging my reaction.

I guess the comfortable silence wasn't shared and so I rattle my brain to find a topic we could discuss to fill the apparent discomfort he feels.

Trying to take the attention away from the topic of 'us', I remember the look he and McCoy shared and decide to ask hastily.

"Are you gonna reconcile with Garret?"

"Is that what you're mad about?"

"No Flash, I'm not mad. I'm just trying to make conversation since you seem to think my silence means that I'm angry."

"So you're not mad," he affirms one more time.

"No, I'm not mad."

"Cool," he finishes before he falls himself into silence.

"So? Garret?" I ask after a few beats of silence.

"Let's not talk about Garret."

"Too late, now I'm curious," I say turning on my side to give him my full attention.

"I reminded you how to dance cut me some slack," he whines.

"No," I laugh, "You taught me how to dance. I told you I didn't take dance courses."

His own laugh is short-lived, "Yes, you did."

"When?" I challenge him.

He pauses and takes a deep breath as we reach a red light, "It was during that time you moved to your Aunt May's."

The confession throws a cold in the vehicle.

"Oh," is all that manages to come out of my mouth.

"I remember," he says messing with his steering wheel waiting for the light to turn green, "You looked out of it during that time. It was what? 1st grade? 2nd grade?"

I wish he wouldn't pause in between bombs because the multiple aspects of the current situation make everything point to us being forced to look at each other.

I audibly exhale and wait for anything to come and fill the heavy silence of the car.

I even think about reaching over and turning on the radio.

"Why would we talk about my friendship with Garret?" he tries to distract from the conversation with a new topic.

"Oh, so there IS a friendship," I point out jumping on the occasion to step away from the previous topic, proud we have succeeded in shifting the subject.

In a streak of luck, the light turns green, and new chatter fills the car with a newfound lightness.

He sighs, "I don't know. Would that be a problem?"

"Why do you ask me? I don't manage your friendships."

"I don't know. I thought about just leaving that friendship behind but who knows," he says glancing at me with a teasing glint in his eyes, "If you root for him I could find it in myself to grace McCoy."

I chuckle as I change my position deciding to hug the headrest with my arm to rest my head on it.

"Sounds to me like you're afraid to choose for yourself."

He scoffs and laughs it off, "No, I'm just asking for someone else's opinion. Second opinions are important too."

It's silent as he shifts gears and I realize we're getting closer to my neighborhood.

"I thought about just ghosting him for a while. And with what happened last time, it feels like he's never gonna change," he confesses, "And maybe that's how it's supposed to end between us two."

"Ghosting?"

"Yeah, I don't think a discussion could get us anywhere useful. Garret is not the type of person to apologize anyways."

His demeanor is nonchalant but his expression shows a rare vulnerability.

"Some people just don't grow up," I barely manage to hear him mutter.

I hesitate but the observation kills me.

"That's very wise of you," I notice out loud.

He realizes I must've heard him and chuckles mostly at himself.

"I am wise," he proudly states as he turns the car again.

"That's just something Léa said," he adds.

He notices when I frown, "Believe it or not but my problems with Garret started before his attempt on your life," he jokes as he parks.

With the car now off I place my hand on his shoulder as a silent encouragement, squeezing and smiling at him before letting go of the headrest and looking out the window to see my apartment building.

I don't think much of it and open the car door to slip out of the vehicle.

"You know I'm supposed to be the one that opens the door for you, right?"

I turn my focus away from the building to see him getting out of his car, his head poking up from his car's roof.

He gets closer and stands right beside me at the bottom of the paved stairs.

He faces me and with newfound courage, I try my luck.

"Didn't you say we were going to this event as friends?"

"Opening a car door doesn't mean anything. It just says I have manners."

I hum impressed by his quick answer and see his hand already out for me to take.

Frowning, his smile turns my grimace into a bright smile when I recall the stairs incident.

I chuckle and grip his hand as he leads me up the stairs.

"See," he says as we reach the top of the stairs, "Just a gentleman."

My laugh dies down as we face each other with an awkward silence that I break when I slip his jacket off of my shoulder and hand it back to him.

He grasps it and looks down at it. He seems to hesitate before he looks back up at me clutching the fabric in his hands.

"School starts back tomorrow. See you there?" he asks.

"Yeah," I let out, my voice softer than it should be, "See you there."

I end the night with a kiss on his cheek, taking the risk of letting it last longer than it should.

The silence isn't tense or awkward and I know this time it goes for the both of us as we share a smile and I grip his shoulder squeezing it one last time.

"Good luck with McCoy."

His serene expression turns sour as he scrunchs his eyes shut and rolls his head back.

"You didn't have to bring up McCoy," he whines as I let a quick laugh escape me one last time tonight.

"Good night," I say with a smile, satisfied with how fulfilling this evening has been.

"Good night."

I let go of him and step back towards the door before I have to inevitably turn around and leave him there.

My last view of him is his figure standing right there looking back at me with a charming smile.

I'm not sure but I could swear he grazes his cheek where I kissed him goodbye in-between the smallest gap of the building's door as it shuts close.

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