#on the table in the damn bookshop | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wardenparker · 6 months

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Mother Knows Best

Marcus Pike x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 17.5k Warnings: Food/alcohol, meddling mama, cursing, reader is an unapologetic nerd, flirting with books, BDSM mention (but no portrayal), vagina sex, protected sex (wrap it before you tap it), praise and a little dirty talk. Summary: Marcus Pike's mother has a tendency to overstep a little. While she means well, any time she has ever tried to set him up it has always turned out terribly. This time, though, she's pretty sure she has it right when she arranges for Marcus to go on a blind date with the youngest member of her book club. Notes: This all kind of sprang out of a TikTok I found about a bookshop date idea. And I'm not sorry about it in the least. Also, subtle shout out to my brother-in-law's band is buried in conversation 🎶

"Marcus sweetie, what are you doing on Saturday?" Donna Pike is pulling weeds in her garden with her younger son in a lounge chair nearby, and she tries to make the question as nonchalant as possible. It's Sunday now and she might as well be asking what he wants for dinner. Although her idea of what he might be doing for dinner on the night in question is almost definitely different than whatever Marcus might have in mind. He has been back in Washington D.C. for almost four months and has spent the whole time sulking – something that no mother likes to see.

Marcus is probably more relaxed than he's been in a few months. Finally deciding that he is better off without Teresa since she would rather be with someone else more than him. His eyes half closed as he holds his beer, he answers without even thinking about it. Or why giving his mother an empty day without plans wasn't a good idea. "Nothing." He hums, smiling slightly at the thought of not having any work or responsibilities.

"Oh?" Donna smirks, glancing over her shoulder to see Marcus has his eyes shut as he sits in the sun. "No dinner plans? Drinks with coworkers?" She asks carefully, keeping her tone breezy as she weeds the tomato bed.

"Not a damn thing." He admits again, not seeing the smirk on his mother's face, otherwise alarm bells would be sounding in his head. Instead, he's plotting what he will do with his day off. Hopefully sleeping until ten is the first thing on the list. Then he might take a book out to the Mall lawn and read in the sun. Pick up one of those touristy drinks to sip on as he does.

"So..." Training one eye on him as she pulls another weed up from the root, Donna's lip curls into a smile. "You would be free for dinner, then?"

"You want me to take you to dinner?" Marcus's father passed nearly eight years ago and when he could, he would take his mother out to a nice dinner. Making sure that she felt special. "Sure."

"Not exactly what I had in mind, sweetie." Donna is all-out grinning at this point, and maybe even a little evilly. "Do you remember my telling you about a new girl joining our book club? She works with Marjorie Klein at the Library of Congress?" Every time Marjorie talked about her new colleague it seemed like the younger woman would be a perfect fit for their group, so six months ago they had offered up the empty spot at their table. Now, every time Donna Pike sees or hears from you, she seems to become more and more convinced that you would be perfect for her youngest child.

"Mom...no." Marcus shakes his head and immediately drowns the rest of his beer bottle and desperately wishes another would appear. "No, no, you aren't setting me up, again."

"But Marcus she's such a good match!" She won't say 'perfect' because that will make Marcus revolt and probably run away screaming. But she has such a good feeling about this one. "And I might have already scheduled the date with her..." Might is such an innocent lie. She definitely already scheduled the blind date with you after giving you a few background details on her baby boy.

“Mooooooooooom.” The sigh Marcus gives is one of extreme frustration. “I appreciate your thoughtfulness, but no. I can get my own dates.” The truth was, his mother had horrible taste in choosing women that she thought Marcus would be interested in.

"Oh yeah?" Donna tucks her proverbial tongue securely in her cheek. "Is that why you've been hanging around your old Ma's house so much the last few months? Because you're so good at getting your own dates?" She tilts her head at him and waves one hand, dismissing the tease immediately. "She's sweet, Marcus. And so smart. You don't have to marry the girl, but it's hard to get back out there sometimes. Just...give it a try?"

“It’s— I just got out of that thing with Teresa, Ma.” He reminds her and notices the expectant look on his mother’s face. She’s well meaning, really she is, but god does she meddle. “You already told her I would go out with her, didn’t you?”

“The thing with Teresa was months ago.” Donna’s grin spreads like wildfire. “She’s a nice girl and I called in a favor to get you a table at Founding Farmer’s because I know you like to keep the first date kind of casual.” Something she considers a mistake, but she knew that if she had gone and made a reservation somewhere more upscale then Marcus would squawk.

“Jesus Christ.” Marcus groans, slapping his hand over his face and imagining how boring and completely incompatible this woman is for his mother to talk about how nice and sweet she is. All the other girls she has tried to hook Marcus up with since he was a teenager have been a train wreck. “What time?” He sighs, resigned to his Saturday being ruined.

“Seven-thirty.” Crows his mother, who definitely made sure that the reservation was early enough in the night that they could do something else afterward. “I really think you’re going to like her, sweetie.”

He thinks he’ll be wasting an hour of his life but he grunts in response, already dreading Saturday.

******

You’re probably taking this far too seriously, all things considered. The book club of mostly middle-aged and older ladies that you had been offered a place in by one of your coworkers has been really nice. Everybody sits around and drinks and gossips about the book characters like they’re real people, and there is always good food. You like the ladies in the book club, you really do. But this whole idea of a blind date with Donna Pike’s son has you nervous for some reason.

Blind dates don’t typically go well for you but you’re honestly kind of desperate. It’s been nearly a year since your last date that even qualifies as mediocre and at this point you would say yes to just about anyone halfway decent. And with that in mind, you kiss your cat goodbye and smooth one hand down your floral sundress before slinging on your leather jacket to keep out the autumnal chill. If nothing else, maybe you’ll have a nice meal tonight.

Marcus sighs as he checks his reflection in the mirror one more time. He had opted to leave the suit at home, but couldn’t dress down completely casual. The restaurant that his mom had chosen would be nice enough that slacks, a polo and a sports coat wouldn’t look too out of place. Despite his reservations, he is wanting to make an effort. He sniffs his cologne to make sure he didn’t douse himself and picks up his keys. Off to see what a nightmare this would be, although he hopes that this girl won’t throw a glass of wine in his face when he reveals he’s a federal agent.

Founding Farmer’s is bustling when you arrive, packed to the gills and you wonder if the younger Pike brother thought to make reservations. For now you adjust the (admittedly cheesy) flower in your jacket lapel and slide over to the bar to order a cocktail. If he stands you up, you at least want to have a drink in hand to soothe the embarrassment.

There had been a fierce internal debate on if he should stop outside the little flower stand that was just a block down from the restaurant to buy some flowers. Romantic Marcus would do it, and even though he had not asked this girl out, she deserves the niceties that had been bred into him after watching his father continuously court his mother through their marriage. When he enters the door of the Founding Farmer's, he can see why he had to park two blocks away and is grateful that his mother had made reservations. "I— I have a reservation. Marcus Pike." He tells the frazzled hostess. "But I'm waiting for someone...." He cranes his neck to look around, not sure exactly who he is looking for. His mother had been very vague with the physical description, which doesn't help on a blind date.

You hear him before you see him — sitting just a few feet behind the hostess stand is strategic, and you hear him give his name. The most careful sneak of a peak nearly has your jaw on the ground and you sit straight up again immediately. He’s gorgeous. Absolutely drop-dead movie star level gorgeous. And he’s carrying flowers identical to the one tucked into your jacket, making you smile unexpectedly. “Marcus?” You turn slowly on your stool, hoping you’re not about to make an idiot of yourself.

He hears his name and looks around again, his eyes searching until they fall on a lovely looking woman wearing a pretty sundress and jacket. A flower in her lapel in a move that immediately makes him grin at the old-style charm of the gesture. He nods and says the name his mother gave him, finding himself hoping that you are that person.

“That’s me.” Sliding off of your stool with your glass in hand, you put out your other hand to him and smile. His mother absolutely failed to mention that her son is an absolute dreamboat. “It’s nice to finally meet you. I feel like I’ve heard a hundred stories about you and your brother already.”

You're pretty. Maybe it's shallow, or vain even, but Marcus had been worried when his mother had focused so hard on how nice and sweet you are. He's not the type of man who insults someone because of their looks, but physical attraction is a basic for any romantic relationship and some of the women who would be just ‘perfect’ for him in his mother's eyes didn't fit in any of the categories. Not even intellectually. He shakes your hand firmly and smiles. "It's all lies, I swear." He jokes, offering you the flowers. "I'm afraid that you have me at a disadvantage because I know your name and that you are sweet."

"The ladies in the book club sort of adopted me." The flowers are beautiful, and fresh, and you inhale the scent happily as the hostess leads you to a small, secluded table in the corner. "And I..." You laugh self-consciously, shrugging a little. "I just want you to know that I had nothing to do with this. It was all Donna's idea. So if we don't get along or something, it's no hard feelings."

"I have to apologize." Marcus shakes his head, enjoying the sounds of your light, nervous laugh. "My mother likes to meddle, so if you weren't actually interested, I will understand." He moves to pull out your chair for you when the hostess indicates the table and looks at you expectantly. It's your choice if you wish to sit down or not.

Maybe it's shallow – to take one look at him and know for sure that you're at least going to ride out this dinner to see what he's like. But then, isn't that what blind dates are, at least a little? Judging a book by its cover and then taking a peek to see what's inside? "I think it would be a shame to miss out on making a new friend, even if that's all this amounts to," you tell him as you sit down.

He can agree with that, admire it even. Smiling again and he wonders if that's all this will amount to. "What are you drinking?" He asks, nodding towards your glass that you had brought from the bar.

"It's called a Farmer's Daughter," you tell him, holding up the half-drunk glass of delicious fruity-boozy goodness. "Vodka, lime, passion fruit, raspberry...something else that I didn't know what it was so I can't remember what it's called. Domaine de something?" Shrugging shelf-consciously, you offer him the glass to try a sip. "It's fantastic."

It's charming the way you offer him a drink. He takes it and tries a small sip. "That's good." He agrees. "I was going to suggest a bottle of wine, but perhaps another of these?" He asks you.

The hostess nods and disappears after leaving your menus, and you sit back in your seat a little bit more comfortably than before. "This place has their own spirits. It seemed too good to pass up, and turns out that was the right choice." A small smile plays on your lips and you really don't know where it's coming from but you feel strangely confident tonight. "So you're usually a wine guy?"

“I am.” He nods, knowing that he would happily split a bottle with good conversation and laughs. “Are you more of a cocktail girl?”

"Usually." Again, you shrug, but offer him a smile. "But only because I know nothing about wine. I'd like to learn, if I found that I knew somebody who wouldn't mind teaching me."

“Well, if you like, we can have one more of those delicious cocktails and I’ll order a bottle of my favorite wine for you to try?” He offers. “Or perhaps just a glass to share, and if you don’t like it, we can explore what you do like?”

"That sounds like fun, actually." Normally when a guy offered to 'teach' you something it was just him insisting that he knew all the best of something or had every fact memorized. Marcus isn't like that and you relax just a little bit more with this discovery. A little bit of sharing and get to know you is perfect for a first date.

“Yeah?” He grins and nods, admiring your sense of adventure and that smile that you are giving him. “Okay, so the wine I like is kinda of dry, a red. That sound okay?”

"Sure." You agree brightly, basically up for trying whatever he suggests. "Like I said, I know nothing about wine. You could be ordering the stuff that comes in a box and I would just trust you that it's good."

He laughs, enjoying your honestly. “No boxed stuff, I promise.” He tells you and thanks the waiter when he comes back with your cocktail. “I’m sorry, but could we also have a glass of the Marqués de Riscal Rioja Reserva 2012?” He asks with a small shrug. “I couldn’t decide what I wanted, and now I do.”

Oblivious to the fact that that could have been an entendre, the waiter just nods and walks away, leaving the two of you alone at your cozy table again. "So..." you can't help the way your cheeks have gotten a little warmer in the last few seconds. "Is there anything you would like to know about me up front? You said your mother didn't tell you much."

“She did tell me that you work at the Library of Congress.” Marcus nudges the new drink towards you and takes the half finished one. He’s already drank after you, so it’s nothing to him. “So what do you do there?”

"I am a preservationist in the Children's Literature Center." Your work is delicate, and it is important, but some people find it unbelievable that your entire career is dedicated specifically to kids' books. "I'm part of the team that is digitizing rare children's books so that their contents will never be lost."

“Wow.” He’s impressed, knowing that is important work. Literature sound be preserved for the future generations to enjoy, much like art. “That’s— that’s gotta be pretty interesting day in and day out.”

“It’s no game of cops and robbers.” His mother had bragged about his promotions more than once, and you can’t help but smirk slightly when his ears turn red. “But I keep busy.”

“So you know that I’m a federal agent?” He asks, not sure what all his mother had rambled on about. Knowing her, she had told you about every girlfriend he had.

“Yes. Donna is extremely proud of you, so we all heard all about the last promotion.” Taking a sip of your drink, you feel just a touch of warmth is your cheeks that is all attraction and not from the cocktail at all. “Congratulations, by the way.”

“Thank you.” He bites his lip, caught between being embarrassed his mom was talking him up and enjoying the congratulations. The joy of his success has been sucked away by the Teresa thing, but he’s been trying to get back on track. “She’s just happy I’m close.”

“She’s very glad you’re home.” You can absolutely attest to that. It’s sweet, actually. They clearly get along well. “It sounds like if she could get your older brother to move back, she’d be in heaven having you both here.”

“Don’t think he’ll be moving to D.C. anytime soon.” Marcus admits. “But she’s happy to get out of the cold to go visit him during Christmas.”

“Louisiana always sounded like fun to be. Like a completely different world from anywhere else.” Probably that thought comes from having grown up in the thick of the Canadian border, but still. It seemed romantic to think about. “She said he’s in New Orleans?”

“Yeah.” He nods and grins. “He keeps telling me to come down for Mardi Gras.”

“Sounds like fun.” He has just one perfect dimple and you swear this is the first time you’ve understood why anyone would swoon. “Are you liking being back in DC, at least?”

“What’s not to love?” He asks, looking up again when the waiter returns with the glass of wine. “The museum, the Mall, the historic sites. I love walking through the Smithsonian.”

“I will absolutely drink to that,” you agree without hesitation. “This city is pretty much perfect as far as I’m concerned.”

He hums as he hands you the glass. “Try a sip of this, it’s dry but floral. I love this with a good cheese board.”

“A charcuterie guy, too? Nothing I love more than Adult Lunchables.” The grin on your face grows as you take the glass, giving it a sniff like you have any idea whatsoever what to look for, and take an adventurous sip. “Ooh that’s…I don’t know what I was expecting but that’s great. It’s like…it’s rich but it’s not heavy, if that makes sense?”

He nods and grins at you. “Now, imagine it with a funky cheese and a tart grape. Or a salty cracker.” He tells you, proud that you enjoy it. “Maybe a glass with dinner?”

“Absolutely.” It’s like a wake up for your senses, and even though you enjoy the sweet cocktail that you had ordered initially, the wine sounds like a decadent and very mature option for dinner. “Do you have any idea what you’ll order for food yet?”

“I figured I was going to order the braised short ribs with wilted summer greens and braised carrots.” He tells you, having looked at the menu before he ever arrived.

“Sounds pretty perfect.” When the waiter comes back you fill out your order, getting a basket of the kettle corn that the waiter gushes over to start with and ordering your dinners with another glass of wine so you can both indulge a little as you get to know each other.

“So, were you as nervous about tonight as I was?” The wine is being passed back and forth between you as your cocktail has been abandoned. He takes a sip and raises a brow at you in challenge.

"Terrified," you admit with a small laugh, but there is no point in trying to act smooth or more charming than you are. You're a slightly awkward person in general, and sometimes that can be charming all on its own. Or so you've been told. "I'm not...great at dating. Then the book club ladies took it upon themselves to figure out whose son was closest to my age and, well...here we are."

He laughs at the image you paint, all the ladies tossing out their eligible sons’ birthdays like trading cards. “Well, hopefully, you are enjoying yourself.” He offers with a grin, setting his elbows on the table and leaning in. The liquor and wine are loosening him up slightly, but it’s more that he’s enjoying conversing with you. Something he’s really missed about dating or being in a relationship with someone.

"I really am." His laugh is deep and rings in his chest, making his smile a little broader every time and making you wish that you had thought of something compelling or deeply interesting to tell him about yourself before setting foot in this restaurant tonight. But you had feared the worst, and expected the mediocre, so maybe that was the entire reason you found yourself enjoying this night? Simply by being handsome, intelligent, charming, and interesting, he was already blowing every single expectation you had out of the water. "Hopefully you are, too?"

“I am.” He gives you a small, self-conscious shrug. “My mother doesn’t have the best record when it comes to setting me up.” He admits. “The last one was a part of some antigovernment group and threw a glass of wine in my face when she found out I was, quote, a ‘fed pig’.” He tells you with the air quotes.

“That…” It takes a beat of extreme self-control not to laugh at how ridiculous that is, but you manage to keep yourself together. “Please say she didn’t know that this girl was anti-government when she set you up?”

“She had met her in her favorite bookstore.” He shakes his head and laughs. “Didn’t have a clue but she had to find another bookstore because it was the girl behind the counter.”

“But she tries to find you girls that read, huh?” That encourages you a bit. That Donna considers her son that intelligent. After all, he can’t be a slouch – not in art crimes. He has to at least have a little history and culture under his belt.

“I don’t want to always talk work, or politics.” He admits. “She had raised me to love reading and I’m forever grateful for that.”

“What do you like to read?” The question is automatic for you – something that you always ask new acquaintances and especially dates. It’s an important part of getting to know someone. “Personal curiosity as well as professional. I promise.”

“I can read anything.” Marcus tells you. “But, I spend so much time reading reports that I really enjoy fiction. Thrillers, intrigue. Even the odd romance novel.” He blushes when he admits that but he’s not going to lie.

“A good romance novel is entirely underrated. They’re great character studies. Plus?” You grin and pick up a piece of popcorn. There are only a few left in the basket and you’re enjoying the salty-sweetness with his dry wine. “Anyone who claims they don’t enjoy love stories is either lying or a bummer.”

“It’s like not liking classic movies.�� He agrees with a grin. “I feel like some of the emotion has been lost. You give me Casablanca any day and I’ll show you a movie that is about loss as much as it is love.”

“I dumped a guy once for not liking classic movies,” you admit, albeit a little sheepishly. “He said that black and white was dumb because life is in color so ‘why weren’t all movies?’ And that all the stories were too trope-y. Can you believe that? Where did he think the tropes came from in the first place?”

“They are the model for the tropes.” He chuckles. “We had a class when I was in high school where you read classic literature and watched classic movies. I think it should be standard around the country. It helped shape my love of black and white movies.”

“I used to watch them with my mom whenever I was home sick.” Those memories are still so vivid for you, and precious. It had felt like a personal insult and not just a preference when the previous guy had talked down about classic cinema. “She got to see Katharine Hepburn in Coco in New York City when she was little and just worshipped her ever since. So, of course, I did too. And we would just watch everything we could get our hands on.”

“Oh wow.” Marcus is impressed and he shows it. “It would have been something, I’m sure.” He agrees. “I’m not all classical though. I like a good mix of modern as well. My old band used to play in Texas and I would go see them.”

“That’s right.” Donna had told you all about his band, of course, but it had slipped your mind while you got distracted over how attractive Marcus is. “Bass player, right?”

“Yeah.” He huffs out a small laugh, wondering if his mother had complained that he hadn’t wanted to cut his hair when he was playing, or if she was bragging. “And some vocals. Mainly backup.”

“Don’t downplay it.” You grin, watching his cheeks turn pink yet again. “I can’t carry a tune in a bucket. And getting on stage? I think I’d panic. That’s something you can be really proud of.”

“It’s not that bad.” Marcus tells you. “Just pick the prettiest girl and imagine them – uh –” he falters for a second. “Kissing you.” He supplies.

“Is that how you get past stage fright?” You have definitely never heard of that particular tactic before and you nearly giggle with how embarrassed Marcus looks admitting it. “Seems like we ought to get you back on stage then, shouldn’t we? That’s a very nice fantasy to let yourself play out.”

“Nahhh it’s been a long time since I’ve been on a stage.” He admits. “I like to just drink a beer and dance with the pretty girl.”

“Oh yeah?” The impulse to insinuate yourself into that situation is deep but you just smile, knowing very well that your cheeks and ears are burning with the thought. “Sounds…pretty perfect.”

“Yeah?” He grins and there’s a partial idea forming for later tonight if the rest of dinner goes like it is now. “Does it sound good to you?” He asks. “What’s your ideal date?”

“I—” Clearing your throat slightly, your skin burns even more. “Dinner and dancing, probably? Or going to see a screening of an old movie together.” Taking a sip of the wine before you hand it back to him, you brace yourself for the tingle you’ve been getting whenever your fingers brush. “I saw a TikTok the other day of a bookstore date, too. That looked fun.”

“A bookstore date?” He’s intrigued on that what that would entail. He leans in and snags the wine glass to take another sip. He should really order another glass so you each have your own, but there is something oddly fun about sharing. “Tell me about that.”

“It’s silly.” But somehow, you think he might like silly. “There’s this list of prompts. And you roll a die to see which prompt you get and you’re supposed to go all over the bookstore looking for a book to read that fits the prompts. It’s…to a librarian it sounds fantastic…choosing books for each other and having an automatic something to talk about on the next date, ya know?”

“That sounds like a great date.” Marcus agrees, liking the adventurousness of it. “A really good date. Maybe even you have to call the other person to read them a portion of the book that appeals to you.”

“I haven’t had anybody read to me in ages…” You can feel how soft you get in response to the idea but you just can’t seem to care. Every few minutes Marcus Pike seems to get more and more perfect. “That sounds absolutely dreamy.”

“You haven’t?” He’s surprised at that, and then there’s a little fantasy that plays out in his head. Calling you every night that he could and reading a few paragraphs to you while you are snuggled in your bed. “Maybe that will change.” He hums.

"I think I'd like that." The way he says it makes you feel so hopeful, like maybe this night is going as well for him as it is for you, and you bite your lip to hold back a full-force grin. "I think I'd like that a whole lot."

Marcus actually hates when the waiter comes back to order the meals, allowing you to order first and he puts in his order for his own meal and asks for another glass of wine. “Do you want one, or do you want to keep sharing?”

"I'm not going to lie, I kind of like the sharing," you admit with an embarrassed grin. This waiter just smiles politely and steps away, having seen plenty of good and bad dates over his career and not really thinking anything of the request.

“I like it too.” He admits with a matching grin. “Although if we order dessert, we’ll need to change to different wine.” He tells you.

"Ah, so my education continues?" He wouldn't have brought it up if he wasn't thinking about it in the back of his mind, and that makes your smile grow. "I know I've seen Dessert wines listed on menus before but other than knowing they exist, I don't think I could name anything else about them."

“They are sweeter, crisper.” He tells you. “Meant to enhance the flavor of the desserts. We will have to see if we have room.” He grins. “My sides are meant to be shared.”

“Maybe we’ll have to come back?” You venture, hopeful at the idea that tonight is going well enough to lead to a second date.

“It is a very good wine list.” He tells you with a grin. “Although there’s this little place down near the Potomac that is a wine bar paired with your – what did you call it? Adult Lunchables?” He tilts his head. “I think you might like that.”

The fact that he picks up on the thread immediately makes you flush warm again and grin so broadly that your cheeks ache. “It sounds perfect,” you admit. “Although I think Donna might float just a little if she finds out we’re planning date number two before the entree is even served on date number one.”

“We don’t have to tell her.” His own grin turns slightly mischievous. “Let her dangle for a bit before we let her know about that. It’ll drive her crazy.”

"You know I'm going to get just as many voicemails as you, right?" The devilish smile highlights his dimple far too perfectly and just about has you swooning, but you manage to keep it down to just a girlish giggle. "Are you going to be a bad influence on me, Marcus?"

“Depends on what you think is bad.” Marcus quips, winking at you as he leans back. You are charming, funny, sweet. All things that his mother had noted but he’s also attracted to you. And thoroughly enjoying this date.

Confidence looks very fucking sexy on him, and you end up leaning forward instinctively when he leans back, like he's pulling a string somewhere inside your ribcage when he goes. "Maybe I like bad. And I'm just making sure I'm going to enjoy myself?"

There’s a split second where Marcus has a choice on if he’s going to make a dirty innuendo, just like you have. “Oh, I guarantee you’ll enjoy yourself.” He promises, that grin turning slightly salacious. “Multiple times.”

He knows full fucking well what he’s doing, and the poorly timed sip of wine you have just taken nearly comes out your nose when you quickly cover your mouth with one hand to keep from spitting it everywhere or even choking on it. “Guarantee, huh?” When you can breathe again and don’t have wine in your mouth anymore, you manage to raise one steady eyebrow at him. “You’re a very confident man, Agent Pike.”

“It’s a money back kind of thing.” He teases, enjoying the easy banter and the fact that you are leaning into the atmosphere rather than getting offended by it.

“Oh, I see.” You tease right back, loving the freedom in the atmosphere between you. “So I’m investing in my future enjoyment?”

“Exactly.” He hums, nodding in an exaggerated manner. “You understand perfectly.”

******

“I don’t think I can do it,” you groan playfully, looking over the empty plates of the amazing dinner you just shared and knowing that dessert would have disastrous consequences. “I think I might pop like a balloon.”

“It was a lot of food.” Marcus admits, his own stomach edging just on the cusp of being overly full. “Plus the wine. So I don’t think I can make room either.” He sighs and leans back to rub his belly just to tease.

“It’s a good thing it’s a beautiful night for a walk.” The thought had been brewing for a while, and you offer Marcus a hopeful smile. “Only if you’re up for it, of course.”

“Absolutely.” The check is discreetly placed by his elbow and he shakes his head when you move to your purse. “This is my treat.” He insists, pulling out his wallet and putting his credit card down without glancing at the bill.

“Then next time will be mine,” you insist, having a feeling that Marcus is not at all the kind of guy to let that fly, but at the same time you have to wonder when the last time was that he allowed anyone to take care of him.

He hums, not agreeing or disagreeing. “So, where would you like to walk?” He asks. “There’s a lot of little shops and bars nearby.”

Pennsylvania Avenue is certainly lively, and since you had taken the Metro you don’t particularly care what direction you head in. “We could always head toward the Mall and let ourselves get distracted along the way?” You suggest, wanting to leave the night wide open for anything or everything.

“That sounds good to me.” Marcus brought his car, but the neighborhood is relatively safe and the parking isn’t by the hours. “Do you have comfortable enough shoes on?” He hadn’t noticed your footwear, but he wants to check.

“I’m not really a heels kind of girl,” you admit, hoping that that won’t break some kind of weird unconscious rule he has in his head. You’ve been told before that you should dress more femininely but the idea that high heels are the only feminine footwear seems utterly ridiculous. “And I’m always up for a walk.”

“That’s good.” He chuckles and when both of you stand from the table he kicks out a foot and shows his comfortable loafers. “I have to wear dress shoes at work, but I’m never going to bash comfortable footwear.”

“I learned a long time ago that knee-high boots go with almost any dress or skirt.” You take his arm when he offers it – very gentlemanly – and before you know it you’re out in the crisp night air. The moon is high and the streetlamps are bright, and you sigh a little contentment. Tonight is so, so much better than you thought it was going to be.

“That sigh is either a very good sign or a bad one.” He teases, looking over at you with a playful grin. “Can I ask which?”

“It’s good, I promise.” And as if to prove you, you send him a beaming smile. “I was just thinking how nice the night is, that’s all.”

“It is a nice night.” Marcus agrees. The air has just a bite to it without being bitter and yet it is still cozy. The dark night is illuminated by the streetlamps and the noise from bars and shops spills out onto the sidewalk in muted tones. “It seems magical, doesn’t it?”

“It does.” You agree with a grin, but for you, that magic is pouring off him – not the street around you.

******

“Hey look.” It’s a building that he hasn’t really noticed before but maybe it’s because he hadn’t been looking for it before. “Do you want to stop?”

“Sure.” You’d agree to almost anything right now and you shrug. “What is it?”

“Well, the name is Tomes and Tannins, so I’m thinking it might be one of those trendy wine shop slash bookstores?” He grins at you. “Why don’t we find out?”

“That is a level of fancy I never thought I would reach,” you admit with a grin and let him lead you inside. It’s deceptively mood-lit inside but with enough supplemental lights that you can read everything you need to, and there are cafe tables with chairs smattered around some mismatched armchairs and ever sofas with drink tables at either end. It’s cozy and welcoming, and obviously meant for you to stay a while.

“Hmmm this looks promising, right?” He asks, looking to see if you approve. “Interesting place.”

“Books and wine? Sounds amazing and looks even better.” A beaming smile of affirmation is all for him and you nudge him toward the stacks. “Where do you want to start?”

“Well…” he smirks slightly. “Show me that date idea that you liked? Picking out books for the other to read?”

“Oh!” Somehow you had already forgotten, and grin guiltily as you pull up the list of twenty prompts on your phone. “You’re supposed to roll a die to find out what numbers you get. Roll a die, find a book for each of us that fits the prompt, and just keep going until we decide we have our arms full.” Digging into your purse, you come out with a d20 from when you play Dungeons and Dragons with your friends and hold it up. “Do you want to go first?”

“Ladies first.” Marcus grins and motions towards a bookshelf. “Roll there and we will see what we come up with.”

Normally a high roll would be a great thing to get, but as you stare at the 17 that pops up on the die, you skim down the list on your phone and feel yourself smirk. “Number seventeen. A book that inspired a tv show or movie.”

“Now is this for me to find for you?” Marcus asks seriously. “Or is this your criteria for my book?”

“I think we’re both supposed to pick a book for each other that fits the category.” The video hadn’t exactly been clear, but that is how you interpreted it. And it sounded like the most fun way to do it anyway.

“Okay. So we each find the other a book that inspired a tv show or movie.” He agrees. “I say I roll and then we separate. We don’t show the other the book until we are done picking them out.”

“Alright.” You hold up the d20 to offer it to him. “Roll away, G-man.”

Marcus plucks the die from your fingers and puts it in his palm to close his fist around him. Grinning as he blows on it playfully like he’s rolling dice in a casino. “Here we go.” He tells you before tossing it down.

It's playful and sweet, and you giggle softly when the die hits the shelf and comes up with the number 5. You consult your list, tilting your head with a grin when you read what category he ended up with. "Number five. A book with an overly long title."

He hums and nods. “Why don’t we add a little bit of a challenge?” He asks. You tilt your head curiously, obviously interested. “We have ten minutes per book, so twenty minutes total. When the twenty minutes is up, we meet at the tables to have a glass of wine and exchange books.”

"Deal." The element of a game makes you smile even more broadly, and you hold up your finger before he can jet away from you. "One more thing?" You ask and wait until he nods. "I want to know your least favourite book of all time. Just so I don't grab it by accident."

“Honestly?” He gives you a guilty grin. “I hate the Lord of the Flies.” He admits with a small shrug. “Hated when it was required reading.”

"You are in no way the first person I've ever met who hated that book," you promise him, smothering a little laugh in the process. "I did not like Gone With the Wind. Couldn't even force myself to be empathetic with any of the characters, which is a shame. The plot is interesting."

“The movie is better, at least it’s watchable.” Marcus admits. “I always hated the scene after the little girl died.”

"Alright." Pulling out your phone, you set a timer for twenty minutes and watch him follow suit with that mischievous smile painted back in place. "Ten minutes for each book, and then we meet right back here for wine and to trade titles."

“Good luck.” With a wink, Marcus whirls around and rushes off, already having a title or three in mind.

It becomes a sort of secondary game – any time you run into each other in the maze of shelves you immediately guard the books you are carrying with your entire bodies and back away or even sprint away from each other so that the surprises won't be spoiled. It has the two of you giggling like idiots and has definitely attracted the attention of some of the other patrons, but no one seems to really mind. Who could possibly mind people having fun in a bookstore?

When he finds what he wants, Marcus barely resists hiding it under his jacket as he rushes up to the counter to make his purchase. Wondering if you will call him out or be disappointed. So he has a backup plan in case. Taking his bag and looking around the bookstore as he walks towards the table you agreed to meet him at.

You use an entire eighteen minutes debating whether or not it's cheating to just grab two of your favourite books to see if he'll like them before you finally just do it. They do fit the categories and he did say that he likes romances so one of them is only sort of a stretch. Grabbing the two novels, you head to the register and then back to the table, only to see him already sitting there. "You were speedy," you observe, raising one eyebrow as you sit down across from him at the table.

“I know what I want.” Marcus tells you, biting back the grin that he wants to display and feeling giddy for his reveal. He motions towards the board that displays what wines they have available. “Do you want to get a glass before we exchange?”

"Sure." He's being cheeky and it's sexy as hell, so you nod and bite back a grin. "You're the wine guru, so I'll try whatever you say is good."

“I think something sweet.” He decides. “A nice Shiraz for us to share?” He asks, wanting to know if you want your own glass or to share again.

"A shiraz to share sounds perfect." Not that you know what the hell shiraz is besides the obvious conclusion that it's wine, but the sharing part is what sounds best to you.

“Okay.” He nods and shoots you a wary look. “No peeking while I order.” He orders playfully, pointing at you. “I’ll be watching.”

He steps up to the counter and you dutifully put your hands on top of the brown paper bag stamped with the shop's logo that you paid for, not peaking in the bag he bought despite desperately wanting to. He comes back in less than three minutes but you're already near squirming in your seat because the suspense is killing you.

“Okay. This is a glass of Layer Cake.” He tells you. “Sounds good, but it’s honestly a first for me too.” He was feeling adventurous and wanted a new experience with you. He’s had shiraz, but he wanted to try this at the same time you did.

"So it's a new adventure for both of us, then." That somehow makes it feel romantic and not just sweet, but it would be silly to say so. "You take the first sip, I insist."

He chuckles. “So I can make sure it’s not poisoned?” He teases. “As you wish, my princess.”

The 'princess' bit makes your cheeks burn, but you don't want to admit that you want to know whether or not he likes it first. There's something about trying wines that makes you nervous and you don't want to accidentally end up loving something that he thinks is subpar. Maybe that's trying wines that is intimidating you, or maybe it's just that you like him. You can't tell, honestly.

Picking up the glass, he sniffs and hums before taking a sip. “Oh this is good.” He groans. “That would be good anytime you wanted wine.”

"Well now I'm excited." He hands the glass over to you and you take a sip, immediately sighing. "Oh, that's fantastic. That would have made me a wine person ages ago."

“I’m selfishly glad that you are exploring it with me.” He admits, admiring how you savor the wine and take another small sip.

"Feel free to be selfish, then, because this is fantastic." Handing the glass back to him, you waggle your bag in his direction with excitement. "Number seventeen or number five first?"

“You want to go first?” He asks, not caring at all. “Sure. Why don’t you surprise me?”

"Your librarian date is excited about books. This should be no surprise." Laughing as you reach into the bag, the book on top is what you decide to go with and you pull out an old faithful favourite. "Number five. A book with an overly long title." You tell him, presenting him with a copy of Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe by Fannie Flagg.

Marcus bites his lip and takes the book. “Okay.” He nods. “That is a long title.” He’s a little worried that you won’t like what he had chosen now.

"You look nervous." He does take the book, though, not reject it. "Have you read it before? It's okay if you have...or if you didn't like it." You're not one of those people who believes that a couple has to like all the same things, after all.

“No, no, I haven’t read this one.” He promises. “I can’t wait to see what it’s about. Especially since you seem to love it.”

"I do." It would be kind of useless to claim otherwise, and you sit back in your chair to accept the glass of wine from him. "What did you find for number five?"

“So…” he flashes you a small grin. “I kind of…cheated.” He admits. “I chose a book that is both five and seventeen.” He admits. “But now, so have you so I’m completely thinking that I fucked up. But I’ve got a corny ass back up.” He rushes out to assure you.

"You say cheating, I say creativity." You do bite your lip though, before admitting, "I actually have two of my favourite books that worked for what we rolled...so this is kind of just my excuse to show them to you. Which is also cheating. Just a little."

At least you aren’t mad. He reaches into his bag and pulls out a beautiful hardback book. “My book for you is this. The Princess Bride: S. Morgenstern's Classic Tale of True Love and High Adventure.” He slides the book in front of you.

It probably isn't the reaction he expects to have you almost tear up at the table, but you gently place your hands on the book and draw it closer to you like it is something delicate and precious – which, to you, it is. "This wouldn't have anything to do with the fact that I mentioned wanting to be read to, does it?" You ask him with a grin. "Marcus it's perfect. And believe it or not...despite this being one of my favourite movies? I've never read the book."

“You haven’t?” His jaw drops and he shakes his head. “I don’t know which I like better, the movie or the book.” He admits. “I have my own copy at home.”

"I've read Cary Elwes' book, but somehow not the novel." The way he lights up at having made a good choice for you might be the most adorable thing you've ever seen. "I guess that's finally about to change."

“I did get another book but I decided it was a bit much after.” He admits, slightly flustered that he bought that book. But it has been made into a movie.

“What was the other one?” His ears have turned red and now you have to know, even nudging the wine glass back toward him in case he needs a little courage.

He blows out a breath and pulls out the other book from the bag. “Okay, but don’t judge me.” He begs, revealing the front of Fifty Shades of Grey.

“Why Marcus, is this a hint?” He has turned an even deeper shade of red and you can’t resist another giggle before batting your eyelashes at him.

“I— no, I don’t mean— it’s just that—” he sputters and chokes on his words before he heaves a sigh and drops his chin to his chest. “Fuck. I knew I should have just found something else.”

“You only should have grabbed something else if you didn’t mean to flirt with me,” you tell him honestly and pull your own book that inspired a tv show or movie out of your paper bag to hand him. The Duke & I by Julia Quinn now has images from the Bridgerton tv show splashed all over the cover, making it unmistakable. “You said you like romance novels sometimes,” you defend, shrugging your shoulders.

“I’ve not read this.” He admits, reaching for the book to read the inside cover. “It sounds interesting. This is a show right?”

“Bridgerton.” You nod, wondering what - if anything - he’s heard about it. “Most people call it something like… ‘horny Jane Austen’.”

He snorts and chuckles to himself as he continues to read it. “Then I see why it appeals.” He jokes. “Nothing like love and sex.”

“Technically isn’t that what this is, too?” You ask, waggling the copy of 50 Shades at him. “Just… kinkier.” It’s an honest question, really. Since you’ve never read it.

“It’s – not bad but you can tell that whoever wrote this is just guessing at what they think BDSM is about.” Marcus tells you.

"So...do that mean you do know what BDSM is about?" It's an intriguing thought, to imagine this otherwise very clean-cut looking guy being into anything kinky, and you can't say you hate it. Not at all.

"I—" He never should have opened his mouth. He never should have opened his goddamn mouth. If it was possible to get any hotter, Marcus swears his face would just burst into flames. This isn't something that his mother would know because there is zero chance in hell he would ever tell her. "I was undercover." He explains. "The people I was— associating with, they were into that kind of scene." He bites his lip. "I had to do a lot of research on it, but I've never actually, you know, uh, practiced it." He assures you.

"Please don't think I'm judging," you reach over the table quickly to give his hand a squeeze and shake your head vehemently. "Honestly, if anything? I find it very...interesting. But have never practiced any of it, either."

"I just don't want you thinking that I'm—" He shrugs slightly. "I don't know what I'm trying to say. Normally I'm more confident than this, but not this time." He chuckles quietly.

"You don't want me to think you're kinky?" You ask, tilting your head slightly. "It's not a bad thing to be. But...I'm sorry if I did anything to shake that confidence." With a half-smirk, you shrug one shoulder in admission. "I promise you'd be extremely confident if you could hear the monologue in my head tonight."

"You didn't do anything, I promise." Marcus reaches out after you had pulled back and takes your hand again. "My last...relationship. She's the one that kind of screwed with my head." He confesses quietly. "But I want to know about this internal monologue of yours."

"The coworker." Of course his mother had told you about his ex-fiancée. She hadn't wanted you to feel like she was throwing you into an unknown situation. "From what your mom said...she sounds like she was a little...dishonest? And that's bullshit. I'm sorry you had to deal with that."

"It's done." There's nothing he can do to change it, and he's not sure that he would want to now that he's looking back on the situation. "But I'm hoping that I can get that confidence back."

"Well, if you hadn't said anything, I never would have known that this is the less confident version of you." His hand dwarfs yours, the warmth of it completely welcoming and overtaking all your senses. And it's so, so welcome.

"Is the book, alright?" He asks. "You can just read the first one if you want."

"Oh, no." The grin you aim his way is mischievous. "I'm definitely going to read both. Who knows? I might learn something."

"Have you seen the movies?" He asks curiously.

"No..." You can feel your cheeks heat up all over again. "It always seemed...I don't know, maybe I'm just really vanilla, but they always seemed so close to porn to me?" Not that that is a bad thing. And not that you don't watch your share of porn. Just usually not of the BDSM variety.

"It was actually pretty tastefully done." Marcus admits. "I've seen them. My ex wanted to see them, so..." He shrugs. "You go see them."

"See? You're already a font of information compared to me." His hand is still covering yours and you shiver a little at the innuendo of it all. Of how warm and tempting he is. "I guess I'll have to catch up. Educate myself."

It’s on the tip of his tongue to tell you that you can watch the movies together, but that might be too forward. Instead, he grins. “Sounds like you have a research plan.”

"Apparently so." Under the table, the toe of your shoe finds the back of his leg completely by accident as you shift in your seat, and you grin guiltily. "I was about to apologize for that," you admit, knowing that it must have seemed like you were trying to play footsies or something under the table. "But honestly? I'm not sorry."

“Really?” His brow lifts and he shoots you a grin. “You like playing footsie?” He asks, his own foot reaching out and tapping yours gently.

"I think it's kind of cute, honestly." The innocent shrug is accompanied by a bright, smitten smile, and you nudge Marcus's foot back playfully.

“Best part of cuddling is sliding your foot along the leg of your cuddle buddy.” He tells you. “Or letting your hands wander.”

"Mmm...it's hands." And he has such huge hands...the possibilities are endless. "It's definitely hands."

“You’re a touch kind of girl?” He asks, intrigued by the idea and he wonders if your love language is physical touch. He’s noticed that you’ve reached out several times when reassuring him.

"Touch is a powerful thing." You reason, not making a single move to take your hand out of his. "It can be intense or gentle, reassuring or electrifying. It can be almost anything."

“Electrifyingly reassuring.” Marcus quips, squeezing your hand gently. He picks up the wine with his free hand and takes a sip.

"Like it's exciting but at the same time...feels kind of...right?" Which is exactly how you feel about him, and you're kind of going out on a limb admitting it but you don't think he's gearing up to reject you.

It does, he looks down at your joined hands and smiles. "I think so." He hands you the wine and hums. "Now, we have a couple of options for the rest of the night, if you're up for it." He grins. "We can continue to walk and talk. Or...." He shrugs. "I have my car back at the restaurant and I can drive you back to my place and we can have a cheese board and read to each other?"

He knows what he’s offering — not even in a salacious way — and that a night of reading books is like catnip to a librarian. You can’t help but get excited for it. Even the most boring night in the world would be improved by this, but tonight? With how it’s going? It sounds practically like foreplay. “What are we waiting for?” You ask, grinning, and take the last sip of wine from the glass. “We both have brand new books to read and my guess is that you definitetly have a couch big enough for two. I’d say that decision is easy.”

"Yeah?" He had expected you to say no. It's the first date after all. Beaming at you, he motions towards the wine. "Do you want to get a bottle of this to take with us?" He asks. "It would go good with any of the adult Lunchable things we can get."

“You’re going to keep teasing me about it, but I stand by that description.” You do nod though, having thoroughly enjoyed this particular glass of wine even more than what he had ordered at dinner.

He chuckles. "It's a good one." He admits. "I've never looked at it that way, but now I can see why you say that. I used to beg my mom to buy Lunchables."

“And now you love charcuterie. Which is the very same thing in a much neater package.” It’s silly, but you’ve always liked silly. It can really open a person up.

He squeezes your hand. "You finish that glass and I will see about getting us a bottle to take home." He tells you, letting go to stand up and quickly walk back to the counter. Feeling incredible about this date and almost hating that he had ever been dreading it.

Two sips and a purchased bottle later, the two of you are out the door of the little shop and heading back in the direction of the restaurant to retrieve Marcus’s car. The night is clear and crisp now and even though the city lights glow brighter than the stars you can sweat you feel the distinct light of the moon before anything else.

“How did you come to dinner?” He asks as he guides you towards his car. “If you feel more comfortable following me, I can give you the address.” He huffs. “Although I should probably do that anyway so you can send it to a girlfriend.”

“I have to admit, it’s comforting to have a guy even acknowledge that kind of thing.” Especially that he’s a federal agent, and doesn’t seem to feel entitled to your obedience or safety based purely on that fact. Instead he dutifully gives you his address after you tell him that you took public transportation to get here, and you send it off to your best friend.

“I understand.” He admits. “The number of people who disregard others safety or their own drives me insane sometimes. At the end of the day if someone gets offended for wanting to feel secure, they don’t have good intentions.” Marcus tells you. “Plus, my mother would kick my ass.”

“She definitely would.” You can agree to that, and thank him quietly when Marcus opens the passenger door for you to get into his car. The address he had given you was in Georgetown so you had a short but nice drive ahead.

“So what kind of music do you like?” He asks as he starts the car and looks behind him to back out of the spot. “Feel free to change it to whatever you like.”

“I would never change Pearl Jam.” Is the very serious reply he gets from you, as the alternative rock station he has programmed on his satellite radio is currently playing ‘Even Flow’. “There was a band that played in my college town that did all 90s rock covers and they were the absolute best shows to go to.”

“That had to be awesome.” Marcus hums. “I was too busy playing to really see a lot of shows and I regret it. But I loved being in the band.”

“Well then I guess we’ll have to find some live music to go see.” There seems like plenty of common ground that you can pick up on together and that is a very good sign if nothing else. “If the sound of a 90s influenced jam band doesn’t make you want to run for the hills, The Southern Ocean is playing at The Runaway this weekend.”

“I’ve never heard of them.” Marcus admits sheepishly. He’s been focused on work and not really out on the social scene the past few months. “Are they good?”

“I mean, I think so.” It’s not exactly surprising that the name is unknown to him and you glance over at him while he drives. “Their bassist is a friend, so I try to support whenever I can.”

“Then that’s definitely something I would want to check out.” Marcus nods. “It’s always good when you see friends play.”

“Would you want to come with me?” It’s only slightly presumptuous to plan out a second date when you’re still in the middle of the first one, but you like Marcus. You like him. He’s smart and handsome as hell and sweet, and even balances flirtation and respect on the perfect level. Honestly, you can’t imagine what kind of an idiot his exes were to let him get away.

“If you’re offering.” He smiles. “Who the hell ever resists an invitation from a pretty girl to go see a band?” He shakes his head. “I might be dumb, but I’m no fool.”

“You’re not dumb. Or a fool.” That’s exactly the kind of thing you don’t put up with from guys you date and you were glad to be able to rule it out very early with Marcus. You exchange a small smile at the next light when he pulls up to it and for the rest of the ride you sing along with the music and just enjoy yourselves.

When he pulls up to his house, Marcus is sort of panicking. Wondering if he had picked up this morning after he had dropped his clothes on the floor from his run. The last thing he wanted was for you to think that he was a slob.

“Home sweet home?” You guess, looking up at the picturesque blue house with its literal white picket fence. It even has a gate out front that someone lovingly painted flowers on in lieu of adding a name.

“Yeah.” He chuckles and gives a small shrug. “It was a hell of a deal when I stumbled on it and I jumped.”

“It’s beautiful.” The lawn is dotted with wildflowers from what you can see in the dark, and suddenly the mental image of stargazing with him on a blanket is impossible to shake.

“Thank you. Luckily, I pay a wonderful company to keep the yard looking nice because I don’t have time to do it.” He admits with a small laugh.

“They do a much better job than the landlord at my duplex,” you offer him a smile before he slides out of the car and goes around to your door to let you out. The front door is a mere six steps away and Marcus’s house is even sweeter and more inviting once that door is open. It’s like somebody built the set of a Hallmark movie in real life just for this handsome FBI agent.

“So, this is home.” He knows that it’s decorated more than the standard bachelor pad and he’s okay with that. He’s not the type of man to just have a chair and a tv in the living room. “Make yourself comfortable, I can put your coat in the closet if you want?”

“Thanks.” It’s the most intimate contact you’ve had tonight besides holding hands, and you swear you can feel your skin tingle when he slides your jacket off your shoulders for you before hanging it beside his in the closet. The little shiver that runs through you is a private thrill and you know you probably look dreamy as hell as you follow him past the living room to the kitchen.

“How about you arrange the cheese board while I open and pour the wine?” He asks as he opens the refrigerator to pull out the sliced cheeses and meats he keeps there because he likes them.

It sounds wonderfully domestic, and you agree to it easily as he pulls out a small board and sets it down on the counter. Packages of Gruyère, havarti, and something marked Seriously Sharp cheddar all fill out the board and you do your valiant best at attempting to fold and rolls the slices of cured meats into petite little roses for the two of you to enjoy demolishing together. Some fresh grapes and cherry preserves join the tray, and Marcus produces a half of a baguette seemingly out of nowhere once the wine is poured. It’s all deceptively easy, the way you seem to work with and around each other, and by the time you make it back out to the living room you know you’re just completely gone for this man. His little smiles, deep laugh, and soft demeanor have you utterly relaxed and so, so smitten.

“Do you want to put on some music?” Marcus asks. “Maybe we can just relax. Lean back and read to each other?” He’s leaning into the idea that you would like this and he wants to make sure that you enjoy yourself.

“What do you want to read first?” It sounds like possibly the most romantic idea in the world – just sitting and reading to each other in comfort with an indulgent (and savory) dessert. If the thought of curling up with him and finding out what it feels like to be close to him is anything, it is fairly close to perfection.

“Ladies choice.” He hums quietly, moving over to the record player he has sitting next to the collection of vinyl’s. It’s not to look snooty, he’s been obsessed with them since his mother played them while cleaning, claiming it sounded better. For classical music, it does. It brings back a sense of nostalgia, sets a mood.

“Rachmaninov?” The melody sounds familiar, like something out of a dream, when it starts up and the name seems to drudge itself out of the depths of your memory. “That’s got fantasy and romance written all over it.”

He hadn’t chosen the music with that in mind, but he smiles. “Too much?” He asks, even though he doesn’t feel like you will think that.

“Not at all.�� In fact, just the opposite. It feels just right. “But it feels like The Duke & I or Princess Bride for sure.”

“Okay.” He smiles as he moves over to the couch and toes off his loafers to reveal the dress socks he had been wearing underneath. “You can get comfortable.” He promises, taking off his sports jacket and removing his tie.

Getting Comfortable on a date for you would usually lead to sexier things than snacks and reading — but then, is there anything sexier than reading in the first place? For a librarian that seems impossible. So instead, you follow suit and toe off your boots to curl up in the couch beside him.

It seems almost natural to have you curl into the crook of his body and Marcus opens his arms slightly. “How about I read to you to start?” He asks softly.

For most people this might be a recipe for falling asleep, but tonight the sound of his voice is vibrating through the thin fabric of your dress as you lean against him. The lingering scene of his cologne mixed with the wine and new book smell in a way more intoxicating than alcohol ever could be. “You’re dangerously comfortable,” you warn him, drawn right against him like a magnet.

"I don't mind being called that." He laughs quietly, trying not to jostle you too badly as you snuggle against him and he settles into opening the new book. Hearing the spine creak open slightly and he wonders if you are like him and prefer hardback over paperback books. At least for gifts.

“All we need is a fire in the fireplace and we’re just about as picturesque as I can imagine.” It’s dangerous to turn your head to smile at him from this angle because it brings you within about two inches of his perfectly tantalizing lips, but you remind yourself to behave. This is just the first date. No need to rush.

“Not quite cold enough yet.” He can’t help but look down at your lips, imagining kissing you in front of a cozy fire after a night in. Or maybe coming home to relax after a night out.

“Soon.” The moment is so soft, and you watch his eyes drift down to your lips the same way yours did to his a second ago with a warm buzzing in your chest. Whether you mean the fire or the kiss should be soon is entirely up to him to decide.

“Should I start to read?” He asks quietly. Feeling the moment start to grow into something warmer, sweeter.

“Yeah—I—um…” Any hesitation on your part is strictly attraction based, and you move your head a safe distance from his lips so as not to get distracted. “Please.”

Marcus turns his eyes to focus on the book and not on you. “The birth of Simon Authur Henry Clyvedon Fitzranulph Basset, Earl Clyvedon was met with great celebration.” He keeps his voice low, intimate between the two of you as he was reading you a story before bed.

It’s simultaneously the most relaxing thing in the world and causing you to be completely on edge, the way Marcus’s rich voice seems to roll right through you as he begins to read. Every place that the two of you are touching seems to be on fire and you cannot decide if you want to jump him or take the world’s most luxurious ride on his narration alone.

He feels you stiffen in his arms and he wonders if you’ve change your mind. “Everything okay?” He asks, wanting to check in with you. He had anticipated you melting against him, but you seem on edge and if it’s something he’s doing, he wants to fix it.

“Of course.” There’s nothing wrong with how relaxed you feel right now, but you know you’ve been a little tensed against him. You had just been hoping that he wouldn’t notice. The fact that he looks at you incredulously says he definitely did. “I’m—” Flustering, you clear your throat as gently as you can manage and bite back a smile. “I’m a little distracted,” you admit, wondering how well complete honesty will go over with him.

“Cold?” Marcus asks. “There’s a blanket right over your other shoulder.” He hums. “Snuggle against me and curl under it. I meant it, make yourself comfortable.” He’s not sure if it’s the change from having your jacket and boots on that’s distracting you, but he doesn’t mind the idea of being under a blanket together.

Not entirely sure that snuggling more would distract you less,” you pull the blanket down anyway and do as he suggests. It brings the two of you even closer and you have to tamp down the coil tightening even further in your gut. Keep your shit together. You’re a grown ass woman! “There.” You smile, but looking up at him brings your eyes to his lips again and you don’t even realize as your tongue darts out to wet your own lips at the sight. “All better.”

His eyes drop down to your lips and he all but groans at the sight of them wet. “Good.” He croaks out, clearing his throat. “That’s good.” It’s hard to tear his gaze away from you, but he needs to so he doesn’t overstep.

“Mmhmm.” Nodding is like a reflex, and for all your determination you just can’t look away. “Very good…”

There’s a moment where Marcus wants to put the book down and give into the desire to kiss you. But that wouldn’t be what you had planned when you came over here and if something happens, he’s determined to let you lead. “So, uh, where was I?”

“I think—” But the thought isn’t there. You have no idea what the last thing he read was, despite how much you love the sound of his voice. Every sense has been taken over by the buzzing hum running through your body and the spark of his skin touching yours. “I don’t—” You could bluster. Or try to skim the page and guess. But your impulses are a hell of a lot stronger than your good sense tonight. “—I really want to kiss you—”

Marcus groans quietly and the book snaps shut with a definitive thump. “I really want you to kiss me too.” He admits. “You should go with your instincts.”

“Instincts are important,” you nod as wisely and seriously as possible even as you’re turning into his side. Those warm puffs of breath that have been ghosting over your skin make you shiver, and you just have an unshakable feeling that this is that start of something completely wonderful. “Oh yeah?” You hum, close enough to nudge his nose with yours.

“Yeah.” Marcus exhales roughly, feeling like he is about to vibrate out of his skin. Despite his complaint to his mom that it was too soon since Teresa, he feels that this is nearly perfect. You’re perfect and he’s painfully attracted to you.

It only takes the smallest movement to fit your lips against his, but the response that floods your body is monumental. It really should only have been a quick, light, gentle kind of first kiss — but he did say to go with your instincts. So instead your hand comes up to graze the line of his jaw when the blissful feeling of having him kiss you back makes you feel like you might vibrate out of place right there on the couch.

It’s innocent, really. The kiss doesn’t go much deeper than the exploration of each other in that first pressing of lips and yet he feels like his heart is about to explode out of his chest. The only reason you pull back is to check in with him. It really is. Because that simple little first kiss might be the best first kiss you’ve ever had. His smile is a little dreamy, almost goofy as his eyes flutter opened after closing on their own. Looking at you as if you had hung the moon after that kiss.

"You look how I feel," you tell him, grin splitting your face clean across as you tuck tightly into his side. That pure joy radiating from his smile is the same feeling filling up your chest right now.

“Like you could tap dance on air?” He asks with an answering grin of his own. Wanting to pull you close and kiss you again, but resisting.

"Maybe." Neither of you were expecting the giggle you share, but it makes you both smile that much harder and you shift slightly against him. "And...like I didn't want to stop..."

“That too.” The book falls to the floor as he shifts slightly. His eyes are darker now, the lust and desire making his amber eyes turn to onyx. “You don’t have to.”

The momentum sweeps both of you up in a way you didn’t expect at all. As soon as he agrees to wanting even a little more you feel like the whole world tilts on its axis. You shift in his arms to surge toward him, lips pressing against his in earnest and barely managing to swallow a moan when he pulls you in tighter. It has you throwing caution to the wind and taking advantage of the open-mouthed kiss to taste him with your tongue — and letting a second moan out when he tastes just as sweet as you thought.

His arms wrap around you, not wanting you to shift too far away as he drowns in the kiss. Letting the feeling of your tongue caressing his completely overrule any semblance of thought beyond you and making sure you are aware of how much he is enjoying kissing you.

Trying to get as close to each other as you possibly can, you turn one more time in his arms and shift forward without ever breaking the kiss. His arms hold you steady, following wherever you’re going next, and in a moment of impulsivity and bravery you swing one leg over his lap to straddle Marcus completely on the couch.

Groaning, he absorbs your weight easily and his hands slide down your sides to squeeze your hips. He’s not upset you’re in his lap, quite the opposite. It makes his kiss just a little more frantic, trying to devour you a bit more.

Marcus has big hands. You know that already. But feeling them on you is totally different. His grip is firm but gentle, sweeping up and down your sides, and you’re suddenly hyper aware that you chose a dress and leggings and that those things provide no barrier between his body and yours. You can feel damn near everything underneath you and that is a blessing as well making you hyper aware of the warmth radiating off of him in waves.

He pants against your lips and feels like he’s underwater. Knowing that he is starting to harden underneath you at the warmth of your body, your core pressed against him.

The only thing that could possibly reel you back in at this point is him — the very same thing that is driving you crazy. But before you start grinding against him or even so much unconsciously moving your hips, you need to make sure he’s okay with it. You’re both panting heavily when you press your forehead against his, and your hands grip his shoulders tightly for balance. “I can stop…” you promise him, knowing that reeling yourself in now will be easier than later. “If you don’t want—more—”

“No.” The word is more whimper and plea than command and he wouldn’t do that anyway. “I— I’m good. I want—” He shakes his head and leans in to press his lips to yours again.

He wants just like you do, if the growing bulge beneath you is any indication, and you are not the slightest bit upset about that in anyway. It isn't what you came here for – or why you went on this date in the first place – but fuck if it isn't feeling like the perfect way to cap off the night.

The subtle circling of your hips has his fingers digging into your thighs as the most delicious groan rips out of his throat. Unsure if he wants you to stop or to just grind on him until you’re panting his name, he slides his tongue down your jaw and to your neck to follow it up with tiny kisses.

"Fuck— Marcus." The iron grip you had on his shoulders has slacked only so you can run your hands down his chest, feeling his heartbeat hammer under your fingertips just as fast as your own as he dusts kisses along your neck and raises goosebumps in his wake.

“So sexy.” He murmurs into your skin. Scraping his teeth over your pulse and sucking lightly. Enjoying the tremor that runs through you and the way you press down against his cock as you moan. He’s hard and starting to ache now, twitching every time you move.

“Unbelievably hot.” The first time you deliberately tilt your hips and rock your core over him, you both moan and you melt against him with your fingers fumbling for his buttons. “C—can I?” You manage, even though you feel like your voice is shaking. “Want to touch you, baby. Please?”

Exhaling on a shudder, Marcus gulps in air greedily. "Whatever you want." He croaks out. "I— fuck," His eyes close and his head tilts back slightly, exposing his Adam's apple. "I want you, but this stops wherever you want it to." He's not the type of man to push beyond your comfort, but if you said you wanted him inside you, he'd already be asking about protection. Not feeling like this is some sort of rebound, it feels like the beginning of something wonderful.

“I don’t want it to stop,” you admit, pausing with your fingers already in the first button of his shirt to find his eyes. This is not your usual first date M.O. but there is something here. Something very real and new between you that has wrapped itself around both of you together.

“We don’t have to stop.” Marcus promises you breathlessly, biting back a groan of pleasure when your hand splays across his chest, touching his hot skin.

"Thank god." Your own moan is a soft and breathy thing as you lean back to watch the broad expanse of his chest come into view with every button you manage to wrench open.

He manages to chuckle, even though he wants to just pull you closer and rip your clothes open to touch you, but he just pulls you close.

It's so damn easy to sink into him. For both of you to let your hands wander and your kisses migrate across each other's skin. He's stronger even than he looks at first glance and that is very strong – to the point where you really wonder if he might be able to just lift you up and carry you off. And that is just about the sexiest thing you can think of.

Keeping his hands on top of your clothes is going to be a real fucking challenge. Especially now that you have stripped him of his dress shirt and his undershirt. Squeezing and caressing every inch of skin you are baring, even the back of your tender neck while he scatters kisses along your lips.

The way he grabs and bunches your dress in his hands but doesn't reach further makes you groan, wondering if he's hesitant or if he's just waiting for permission. It really only takes a few seconds to realize there is something hesitant about the way he is kissing you or palming your hips and breasts over your dress, so you take one of his hands and guide it under the hem of your dress in invitation.

Marcus moans when you guide his hand under your dress, giving him permission to touch you and it becomes his mission to touch every inch of your body. Both hands slide up and down your thighs in sweeping passes, over your panties and to your stomach.

"Fuck." His hands are burning hot, making you shiver counterintuitively and lean into every touch. At this rate you may leave a damp patch from grinding down on him, but you don't even care. The friction is too good to ease up on. The only way you're moving off is so Marcus can get his pants off.

"That's right, baby." He agrees, unable to stop twitching every time you grind against the hard bulge in his slacks. "Fuck is right." His thumb sweeps under your breast right before he slides up to cover it with his hand, right over the bra and squeeze possessively. "You want to take off your dress for me, sweetheart?"

It's not even worth wasting breath on a reply, you just tear your hands away from his chest to pull your dress up over your head. It gets tossed somewhere on the floor and instantly forgotten about as you pant for your breath back and watch Marcus's eyes drink you in.

He didn't know that he could look so many places at once. Your tits, mouthwatering and begging for his attention. Down to your pretty panties that he wants to rip off and bury his tongue inside you to hear you squeal his name. Back up to your face and he nearly growls as he rushes in to kiss you again.

The momentum nearly knocks you backward but Marcus's arms are there to hold you steady. If he has his way you'll be staying skin-to-skin for a whole lot longer tonight and you have absolutely no problem with that. Every time his cock twitches under you, you can't help but moan, and soon it's going to be just a litany of that sound over and over.

Deft, sure hands reach back to undo your bra, making the first move to strip clothing off of you. Pulling the straps down your arms and immediately reaching up to cup your breasts and fill his hands with them. As simple as it might be to get a simple piece of clothing off of you, your high-pitched whine says everything about how eager you are to be rid of every stitch. "You have the best hands," you moan when he pinches your nipples and rolls the tight buds between his fingers for the first time.

"You have the best tits." Marcus hums, almost chuckling as he watches your head drop down to your chest and then roll back. "Fuck, that's it," he groans when you circle your hips on his cock again.

"S—swear this isn't what I was expecting—" You manage to breathe out, trying to assure him that you never expected sex tonight. "But fuck, baby."

"Me either." He agrees, kissing your jaw and then down your chest. His hot mouth moving towards your breast until he's pulling your nipple into his mouth.

“Mar—Marcus.” The heat of his mouth makes you keen even as your head drops back and the fingers of one hand tangle in his short hair. At this point every time you grind your hips down it’s like you’re trying to reach his cock inside his pants, and you know he’s as hard as you are wet.

He huffs and blows his breath against your nipple as he lets go of it, smirking up at you before sucking it back into his mouth. Knowing that tonight is nowhere near what he had imagined it being like and yet he can't be mad at it. He's eager to feel more of you.

“Feels so damn good.” The contrast of hot and cool on your skin makes your eyelids flutter and you rock in his lap.

He moans in agreement, his tongue flicking over the stiff peak and he loves how it puffs up even more in his mouth. Pulling off only to attack your other breast with equal enthusiasm.

Every flick of his tongue sends another shiver down your spine and as much as you just want to ride it out and see if you can cum only from having your tits sucked on, you want him more. One hand stays threaded in his hair but the other reaches down between you, finding the thick bulge of his cock in his pants and squeezing experimentally to see what makes him moan.

Marcus’s breath is ragged, shuddered against your skin and he pulls away because he might bite down too hard if you do that too well. “Fuck, baby.” He groans when you squeeze him again.

"I—" You breathe, panting when he twitches in your hand and you can feel how thick he is. "I have a condom in my wallet." It had been just a nothing idea, to throw one in while you were getting ready. More of a joke to yourself about how you always seem to be so overprepared. But now? Thank god you did.

"Yeah?" He kisses up your neck again and his tongue slides against the sensitive skin behind your earlobe. "I have one too." He admits. He's always carried one, but not because he expected sex, but because it was surprisingly handy to have at times. "Do you want to use yours or mine?"

"Yours first, mine second." It might sound a little overconfident, but something in you tells you for certain that this isn't just a one-time thing. Besides that, Marcus's hazy, lust-filled grin at your comment is worthwhile.

"Good girl." He groans out, twitching against your core at the thought of multiple rounds after you've both caught your breath and recovered.

That makes you moan reflexively, and you don't even pretend to demure over the reaction. It's honest and it's real. Who doesn't want to be praised during sex?

"Oh you like that." He chuckles and leans in to kiss your lips again softly. "I'll keep that in mind." He will, he will take note of every damn think you like.

"Not even going to pretend I don't." You lean forward to nip at his neck in turn before stepping back from him with a groan. With two feet on the rug, you already hate the distance between you. But you'll take care of that as soon as you strip his pants away.

Marcus pouts slightly but he quickly unbuckles his belt and unzips his pants so he can lift his hips up so you can pull his pants down. Black boxer-briefs under black trousers is very adult of him, and you're far too focused on the thick length trapped under that last layer of fabric to tease him about boring underwear. Instead you toss him his wallet from the back pocket of his pants and slip off your tights while he fishes for the condom packet.

Catching his wallet, Marcus opens it and pulls the condom out and tosses it on the coffee table before he bites his lip. Looking at you before he lifts his hips again and pushes down his boxer briefs.

Broad shoulders and a thin waist give way to long legs, but your attention is focused on his dark eyes until you let your gaze drop to his lap. The head of his cock is bordering purple, dripping precum, and it gives a distinct twitch against his belly when he watches you watch him. The perfect moment of quiet before the storm that is about to take over, you crack a grin at Marcus and take a step forward. That cock is going to feel so fucking good inside you.

"I take it you approve?" He asks, smirking himself as he holds out his hand to you. "Now, I want you to take off your panties for me, sweetheart."

“Oh, these things?” With your thumbs hooked into either side of your panties, you grin a little wider before slipping them straight down your legs to pool at your feet. “Gone.”

"Fuck." He groans, cock jerking again at the sight of you completely bare in front of him. "You're so beautiful. I'm lucky to be able to touch you."

You hum, shaking your head and making a show of walking the three steps you need to need to be ready to crawl back into his lap. “I could say the same thing.”

He chuckles and rips open the condom to roll down his length. Biting his lip while he studiously applies the prophylactic, he looks back up at you with his hand wrapped around his covered cock. "Then touch me again and make me believe it." He teases.

Never having known a single man who didn’t like having his cock ridden, you fit one knee on the outside of each of his hips and sit yourself down directly over his core, replacing his hand with yours and wishing you had had the opportunity to suck his cock just a little before he applied the condom. Next time, you tell yourself, rocking over the tip of his length and watching his Adam’s Apple bob dramatically until you start to slide that length inside you an inch at a time.

His hands find your hips again. Not to rush you, but to hold you as you slowly start to engulf his cock. Moaning out your name when you get the first two inches inside your hot body and your walls squeeze him tight. "That— fuck, baby, you feel so good." He praises breathlessly. "How— is it good?" He can barely think straight, but he wants to make sure you are comfortable.

“Perfect.” Barely holding onto your last shred of control, you are determined to make sure you both latch on to the bliss of this moment before anything else. “Fucking perfect.”

Your fingers dig into his shoulders but the slight pain just adds to how good the way you sink down onto him feels. Groaning again as you keep taking him, wrapping him up in the heat of your body. "Good."

“Goddamn.” When he’s fully seated inside you, you pause long enough for both of you to catch your breath. “Tell me when I can move, baby.”

"Anytime you want to move." He moans, wanting you to move now, but he's not the one who is on top. "You set the pace, baby."

That in itself is enough encouragement, and you raise up on your knees right away to the musical harmony of a moan ripping out of each of you. “Fuck you feel so good,” you moan, barely keeping your eyes open as you set an even but energetic pace. It feels that good, but you want to be able to watch him.

Breathing out shakily, Marcus can't even speak. Too overcome by the pure pleasure that comes when you start to move. Rolling your hips and clenching down around him, you fit like you are perfectly molded around him. Eyes fluttering when you start to lift off his length, but then take him even deeper when you sink back down.

The sounds of sex are distinct – sloppy and wet and loud – as the two of you find a rhythm together. If you believed in Fate you’d say he felt like he was made for you, but as it is you really can barely form any thoughts at all. He fills you in a way you don’t think you’ve ever felt before and every perfect man goes straight to your clit as you ride him.

His fingers are still grazing your hip as his thumb presses against that little button that drives women crazy. Humming when he starts to work quick, small circles on top of it as you move. Wanting to match the rhythm for your pleasure. Your hands are everywhere, pulling in his hair and bracing on his shoulders, grazing down his chest and even reaching behind you to lean backward and get a slightly different angle and groaning loudly when it strikes you just right.

Letting you lead doesn’t mean that Marcus does nothing. His hips rock up every other thrust to make sure that you are impaled on his cock. Toes curling every time, he groans out your name again and again.

Curses and praises fall from your lips, punctuating the litany of moans with colorful encouragement and pleas. Every time he thrusts upward you feel like you’re going to have all of your insides rearranged, and it’s so fucking good you never want it to stop.

“Fuck. Baby.” Marcus leans forward and presses his forehead to your clavicle. “You’re taking me so well. Love it.” His mouth sometimes gets filthy when he’s lost in a moment and it’s no different today. “Pretty little pussy clamped down over my dick.”

Fucking hell. He even talks dirty. You keen in response, a moan so animated and turned the fuck on that you’re picking up the pace and pawing at your own tits in Marcus’s face. It’s beautiful to watch your tits bounce and your hands pluck at them, but he’s a hands on kind of guy and he lets go of your waist so he can lavish attention on them.

It’s an automatic switch. When his hands move to knead your tits and pluck at your nipples, you replace one of your own on his shoulder and let the other drift to your clit to run the same circles that he was just a second ago. You’re hurtling desperately close to cumming and you can’t wait to hear what dirty little praises he’s going to come out with when you clamp down on his cock even harder.

Marcus moans and groans with his nipple in your mouth. His eyes watching your fingers dance over your clit and he’s memorizing the fact that you enjoyed the way he had been touching you. His hips rocking up fast to punch up into you. Feeling you getting closer to your peak with ever gasped squeal you give him.

“So—fuck— so fucking close,” you manage between pants and moans as your body starts to lock down all at once and that coil in the base of your spine tightens beautifully like you were warning it and not just him. “Oh fuck, I’m cum—”

The second he feels you tense up, Marcus pops off your tit and his arms wind around you like steel bands. Holding you in place so he can take over. Thrusting up into you while you start to cum. “That’s it.” He hisses. “Cum for me. Soak me baby. Show me how good my cock feels.” He groans, the hard, sharp thrusts knocking his breath out but he fucks you through it, still babbling. “Like a vice, like a fucking vice. Come on baby, give me all of it.”

The filthy babbling almost breaks you, with the way that it shakes through you and makes you gasp at breaths even with how much you’re panting. Sparks flash white behind your eyes as Marcus’s hips start to stutter, and you’re vaguely aware of a stream of your own encouragements — or maybe just begging him to cum so you can see how gorgeously unwound he looks when he hits his peak. You can’t be sure which it is, or if it’s both, but either way his arms tighten around you that much more and he groans in your ear like sin incarnate.

"Fuck you're so good." Marcus breathes. "I'm gonna cum. I'm gonna fill your little pussy up." That's not going to happen because of the condom, but logistics don't exactly matter right this second. All that matters is that he's going to be buried inside you as he cums. "Fuck baby, fuck." He chokes out, giving one more thrust and grinding up into you as he whines your name into your ear. Spilling into the condom in hot waves of pleasure.

“Holy shit.” You’re the first to break into giggles, when you finally have your breath back. His arms were so tight around you at the end that you might feel a little bruised tomorrow but you can’t find it in yourself to care at all. That’s the best ride you’ve had in ages and it was only the first time.

Humming, Marcus leans in and nuzzles his nose against your neck. Panting to catch his breath. "Holy shit is right." He gives his own little giggle because he's feeling so loose and good.

“Let me know when I’m getting too heavy.” With your forehead pressed to his shoulder and the feeling very slowly returning to your extremities, you’re still not sure about moving immediately. “My legs aren’t working yet. You turned them into jelly.”

"You can stay right here as long as you want." He promises with a grin, his spent cock twitching inside you. He will have to hold to condom when he pulls out, but it's worth it. "Want me to read to you now while you recover?"

The awe and adoration in your expression when you pull back from him is unmistakable. He’s going to read to you post-coitus?! “You’re actually perfect,” you sputter out in disbelief, though you’re absolutely not saying no.

He chuckles and sends you a warm smile. "It's the least I can do," he teases, "since you did all the work." His hands slowly caress your spine and he’s enjoying the way you feel against him.

“And I’ll gladly do all the work again for round two if that’s the response I get.” Not even teasing, you nudge your nose against his and steal a kiss, savoring the taste of perspiration mixed with Marcus’s kiss.

He hums against your lips and slides his hand up to hold you in place to deepen the kiss. "Thank you." He murmurs when he pulls away. "For this. For making it easy to enjoy the best damn date I've had in a long time."

“No need to thank me.” There is so much softness in it that you melt a little bit more, nuzzling into him right there in his lap. “I’m gonna have a hell of a time trying to make sure our second date beats it.”

It makes him laugh, a giddy, carefree sound and he sigh happily. "We should just keep it going then." He decides. "That way we don't have to think of ideas to top this."

You could float away on the sound of his laugh, just reveling in this joyful energy. All the same, you pull back again and find his eyes carefully. “You asking me to stay the night, handsome?”

"What kind of date would I be if I sent you home when your legs are Jello?" He asks playfully, leaning in and nudging your nose with his. "Especially since it's my fault."

“Fault. Generous gift. Same thing.” You both grin, indulging in more kisses until you’re sighing into him all over again. “In that case, I think we should go upstairs,” you murmur. “Read in bed until we either want to go again or fall asleep.”

"Do you want some water?" He asks softly, knowing you might be thirsty after all that work. "I can get you some before we go up?"

“Perfect gentleman.” You hum softly, knowing you need to climb out of his lap but wanting one more kiss first. “Water would be amazing.”

He gives you another lingering kiss, smiling against your lips when you start to pout as you lift off of him. He slides his hand between you to hold the base of his cock, keeping the condom from moving. "Good. My room is the last door on the left." He tells you. "I'll be up in just a second, as soon as I get rid of the condom and get some water."

"Okay." Even though you pause to gather up your stuff, you don't bother getting dressed. Sauntering upstairs naked has an air of comfort and unexpected sexiness to it that you can't deny, but you do stop off in the bathroom to do the extremely unsexy task of cleaning up and having a quick pee. By the time you get out, you barely have a second to slip under the covers before Marcus appears in the doorway.

"Bottle of water, like the lady ordered." Marcus put away the cheeseboard and wine, gathering up his own clothes before coming upstairs. He wants to make sure you are comfortable. Grinning, he walks over in his boxers to hand you the water. "Need anything else, sweetheart?"

"A little company, that's all." Did he manage to get more attractive in the less than five minutes you were apart? That's wholly unfair.

"Company I can definitely provide." He smirks slightly as he walks around the bed to climb in beside you. "Comfortable? Need another pillow?"

"Not gonna lie." As he slides in next to you, you move toward him like a magnet. "I was kind of hoping for a human pillow."

"That's my favorite type of pillow to be." His arms open up to let you settle against him. "Especially when I'm going to read to you."

"Absolutely perfect," you murmur happily, laying your head down on his chest as he picks up the book. Tonight really was, without a doubt, the best date you've ever had. You're going to have to do a hell of a job hosting the next book club meeting as a thank you.

He picks up reading again, basically just starting over. Keeping his voice low and the only light is from the lamp on his bedside table. Letting the atmosphere stay intimate. It might be the first date, but it was going to hopefully the last first date he has.

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury

My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Marcus Pike #Marcus Pike x you #Marcus Pike x reader #Marcus Pike x female reader #Marcus Pike x f!reader #The Mentalist #Mentalist fanfic #blind date

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demiamphitere · 2 months

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The Alternative Universe

The Good Omens book drunk Aziraphale and Crowley bookshop scene, but David Tennant plays Aziraphale, and Michael Sheen plays Crowley. Narrated by Rebecca Front (audiobook). The alternative universe we needed. https://youtu.be/5bqwovc00Aw

Scene from: Good Omens: The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch, by Terry Pratchett and @neil-gaiman.

Audio extracted and stiched from:

- The Full Cast Audiobook with David Tennant and Michael Sheen 2021

- David Tennant reading the scene at the Playing in the Dark event 2019

- Part of Michael Sheen reading the scene at the The Town Hall Good Omens event with Neil and Nick Offerman 2019

Thank you to @fuckyeahgoodomens for the compilation. • The Good Omens drunk Aziraphale and C...

Thumbnail by @moreofaman_ on Twitter

Transcription:

The table in front of the two of them was covered with bottles. "The point is," said Crowley, "the point is. The point is." He tried to focus on Aziraphale. "The point is," he said, and tried to think of a point. "The point I'm trying to make," he said, brightening, "is the dolphins. That's my point." "Kind of fish," said Aziraphale. "Nononono," said Crowley, shaking a finger. "'S mammal. Your actual mammal. Difference is-" Crowley waded through the swamp of his mind and tried to remember the difference. "Difference is, they-" "Mate out of water?" volunteered Aziraphale. Crowley's brow furrowed. "Don't think so. Pretty sure that's not it. Something about their young. Whatever." He pulled himself together. "The point is. The point is. Their brains." He reached for a bottle. "What about their brains?" said the angel. "Big brains. That's my point. Size of. Size of. Size of damn big brains. And then there's the whales. Brain city, take it from me. Whole damn sea full of brains." "Kraken," said Aziraphale, staring moodily into his glass.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #david tennant #michael sheen #This is so blessed and cursed at the same time

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sourcherryandsprinkles · 4 months

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You can call me babe...not just for the weekend | Conrad Fisher x Reader

Advent calendar day seven: Tis the damn season

Summary: You and Conrad explore a road you never did before when come back to your hometown for the holidays

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

Bundled in your warm coat and scarf, you walked down the streets of Boston with a cup of hot coffee in your right hand, looking for last minute presents while drinking in the feeling of home. Around you, the shops were adorned with twinkling holiday lights, painting a very different picture than in Los Angeles’s December. Especially with the light layers of snow all over the city.

Although you loved living in Los Angeles, there was nothing better than a snow-y Christmas.

You missed it the past two years.

The faint scent of fresh fir and pine coming from the Christmas tree market at the end of the street brought a nostalgic smile to your lips. When you were little, your dad would let you pick a tree — which was always way too big for the living room.

You entered the bookshop, browsing around for a possible novel to read during your vacation when your eyes caught a familiar face between the aisles.

‘’Conrad?’’

Hearing his name, the brunet lifted his gaze. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. You. In Boston.

‘’Hi,’’ he said, completely struck.

You walked over to him, pausing your shopping, and Conrad put down the book he was holding.

‘’I haven’t seen you in a while. It’s good to see you.’’

He had changed — grown — since you last saw him. His hair was a bit longer at the back and his jawline was sharper, but he still had that navy sweater he wore to every Christmas party at school. It has reindeers and snowflakes on it.

‘’I just got here last night,’’ he explained, giving you a small smile that fell soon after, as if regretting it. ‘’I didn't know you were coming this Christmas.’’

‘’I was beginning to miss the snow,’’ you said, then took a sip of your coffee. ‘’How’s your mom?’’

Conrad was relieved for a conversation shifter. ‘’She’s great.’’ He smiled again. ‘’We’re hosting a massive Christmas dinner this year and, you know her, she went all out. She turned our house into a place that looks like it came straight from a cheesy Hallmark holiday movie.’’

A chuckle spilled from your lips. Susannah always loved holidays — 4th of July, Thanksgiving, Christmas. She tended to go a bit overboard with the decorations, but she always prepared the most delicious feasts for her guests. Although she was no Martha Stewart, her dinner table was one for the magazines.

‘’Did your dad put the big star at the top of the house? I couldn’t see it from my window last night.’’

‘’Eh, no.. He didn’t…’’ You could sense that Conrad was holding something back, something he didn’t know how to tell you. ‘’Dad moved out last summer. He…’’ There was a short pause before he spilled the truth, having never said it out loud before. ‘’He cheated on my mom.’’

Your stomach sank and your heart ached for Susannah. You never would have taken Mr. Fisher for a cheater, but you can never really know someone.

‘’I’m sorry.’’

‘’Why for? You’re not the one who had an affair with his secretary,’’ Conrad said, clearly still pissed about the situation and resenting his dad. Getting a silence from you, Conrad took back his words. ‘’I should not have said that…’’

You shook your head. ‘’It’s okay,’’ you assured him. ‘’Is Jeremiah coming for the holidays? He’s in college now, right?’’

‘’Yeah. Him and Belly both go to Finch, so they are driving together tonight. Steven should get here tomorrow.’’

Steven. You hadn’t heard of him in a while. The last time you spoke to him was to congratulate him for getting into Princeton. The big news was the reason why you had changed his name for Princeton boy on your phone. It was a nod to one of your favorite movies — A Cinderella story.

A smile drew on your lips. ‘’Seems like everyone is back in town this year.’’

‘’Like the old days,’’ Conrad confirmed, his smile tighter than yours.

⁂

The second time you ran into one of the Fisher brothers, you were getting lunch by yourself at your old favorite café and typing a few lines for your next novel. Christmas chaos had started at home and writing was impossible with your mother’s holiday music blasting while she was working on tomorrow’s dinner.

You heard him before you saw him.

‘’Oh my god, am I seeing right?’’

You raised your head, recognizing the dark blond curls spilling from under his hat that just entered the café. He skipped the counter and went straight for your table, pulling you in for a hug.

‘’I can’t believe you’re here! It’s been so long,’’ Jeremiah said, his smile so big you would think he had won a trip to Cabo.

You talked for a few minutes, catching up on small things, but he unfortunately couldn’t stay long as he was meeting with Belly to go Christmas shopping. You wished them good luck, the shopping malls likely chaotic forty-eight hours before Christmas.

‘’Before I go, there’s a huge New Year party at Este’ house next week,’’ Jeremiah informed, fixing his jacket and grabbing his coffee from the table. ‘’Everyone is gonna be there. You should come.’’

It was kind of him to invite you, but you were hesitant.

‘’I haven’t spoken to anyone since moving across the country, I doubt they’ll want me there…’’

Jeremiah tilted his head, giving you a look. ‘’Don’t say that. I’m sure someone will be interested in hearing about all of your celebrity friends. If you tell anyone you’ve met Ariana Grande in a restaurant, they’ll want to be best friends.’’

You shook your head. Of course he would mention Ariana Grande. The two of you used to sing her music in the car and have midnight release parties every time a new album came out.

‘’I don’t have any celebrity friends to gossip about. And if I did, I would be a bad friend for gossiping about them at a party in my hometown.’’

⁂

A Hallmark holiday rom-com was playing on TV when you received a text from Conrad. His contact picture was a selfie of you and him at the beach in Cousins. You visited him for the 4th of July the summer before you parted ways to different colleges.

From Conrad: Do you want to drive around and look at Christmas lights together?

A smile drew across your face. It was an old tradition from when you were kids. The two of you would walk around the neighborhood on the first night of Christmas break and look at all the decorated houses. You always looked forward to that special night. Then, when Conrad got his license, you broadened your itinerary to other neighborhoods and added hot chocolates and stolen holiday desserts from your respective houses to the tradition.

You didn’t bother changing out of your pajamas, adding a sweater over your shirt and slipping on your boots before heading out.

‘’Where’s your coat?’’ Conrad asked when you opened the passenger door and got in.

‘’We’re staying in the car, I don’t need it,’’ you replied, closing the door and pulling your seatbelt.

Conrad sighed and turned the heater higher.

‘’I’m gonna be honest, I was surprised to get a text from you. I got the impression that you weren't as pleased to see me as I was yesterday.’’

‘’No. It wasn’t that,’’ he assured, taking his eyes off the road to look at you briefly. ‘’To me, it was unlikely that you would come to Boston again since your life is in Los Angeles now. I was just shocked to see you in town.’’

A teasing smile curled on your face. ‘’Aw, you were starstruck by me?’’

‘’I didn't say starstruck…’’ Conrad protested, shaking his head as you twisted his words around.

The conversation was quickly dropped, something massive and green catching your attention on your side of the street. ‘’Oh, look on my left, they dressed up their 50 feet skeleton in a Grinch costume!’’

⁂

‘’What are you doing here?’’ your mother asked, her arms crossed as swatched you in the kitchen making yourself a cup of tea on New Year’s eve, eyeing you with a mixture of disbelief and surprise.

You gave her a confused look, a teaspoon in one hand and a teabag dangling from the other. ‘’I’m on vacation… Mom, did you have too much eggnog or something?’’

‘’I mean, what are you doing at home on New Year’s eve? Don’t you have a party to go to? I’m sure your old friends missed you.’’

Letting out a sigh, you resumed preparing your tea, pouring hot water into the cup. ‘’Jeremiah invited me, but I don’t think I’m gonna be going. We can watch Ryan Seacrest’s Rockin New Year together—’’

Your mother leaned against the kitchen counter, a faint frown on her face. ‘’You should go. No twenty-year-old should stay at home on New Year’s eve,’’ she insisted, glancing at the clock on the wall. ‘’Is Conrad gonna be there?’’

You shrugged, stirring the tea. ‘’I don’t know.’’

She pointed at your cup. ‘’Give me that tea and get ready for that party.’’

⁂

Leave it to you to be overdressed at a small town New Year party. Since moving to Los Angeles, you had to level up to their standards of fashion, but now you were sticking out like a sore thumb in this suburban crowd.

You walked further into the house, trying to find familiar faces, but you didn’t recognize half of them. They must have recognized you by the sour look they gave you. You couldn’t tell if it was because of your dress or because they didn’t like that you were at the party. You tried to ignore them. There was a reason you left town and it wasn’t only for bigger career opportunities.

‘’Happy new year!’’ Belly greeted over the loud music, grinning excitedly with a red cup in her hand and a pair of ‘2024’ gold glasses on her face. She pulled you in a hug, giving you a better welcome than your old classmates. She held you at arm’s length, looking you up and down. ‘’Wow, that dress looks so good. It’s like a mirrorball.’’

You smiled and thanked her for the compliment. ‘’You don’t think it’s too much?’’

She shook her head. ‘’It’s better to be overdressed than underdressed,’’ she assured you, quoting Susannah. ‘’Come. Steven has been talking about you non-stop since Jeremiah told him you were in town and coming to the party.’’ Belly gave the boys a glance on the other side of the room, both talking by the windows, then pulled you through the sea of people.

‘’There she is,’’ Steven exclaimed when seeing you approach, being the last of the group to see you.

You pulled him in a short hug. ‘’Hey, Steven.’’

Seeing your empty hands, Jeremiah offered to get you a drink. He enumerated the small selection available in Este’s kitchen, but your attention was drawn away when you caught Conrad sitting with a couple of friends on the couches with a beer in hand. Your eyes lingered on him more than necessary. You couldn’t help it, he looked so handsome in a button up and sweater.

‘’So, which one is going to be?’’ Jeremiah said, still waiting for your choice of drink.

As the night went on, you lost sight of him. You and Belly laughed while the boys did karaoke, duetting musicals and acing every song. Parties in Los Angeles were not as laid back. Everyone would have booed if someone had pulled out the karaoke machine.

Steven was in the middle of an impressive solo when you caught Conrad heading outside to the balcony. You glanced at your friends, then back at the sliding door, and excused yourself to the bathroom. You came to the party in hopes to see him, you couldn’t not talk to him.

As you stepped onto the balcony, the cool night air enveloped you, causing goosebumps to rise on your barely covered skin. Even with tights, that dress was not approved for the winter chill. Trying to ignore the high chances of catching a cold, you walked up to Conrad, who was leaning against the railing, gazing at the illuminated neighborhood by himself.

‘’I’ve been looking for you,’’ you said, your voice breaking the silence.

‘’Me?’’

You hummed, joining him in his gazing. ‘’Aren't you cold out here?’’

‘’No, not really.’’ He shifted his eyes to you, noticing the absence of a coat over your shoulders. ‘’You sure are cold.’’

You chuckled, rubbing your arms in a futile attempt to generate warmth. ‘’Maybe a little.’’

Without asking, Conrad pulled you closer, wrapping a comforting arm around your shoulders. ‘’Better?’’

You leaned into his side, a smile gracing your lips as the woodsy undertones of his cologne enveloped your senses with every breath. ‘’Better.’’

‘’How was your Christmas?’’ he asked.

‘’Great.’’ Your answer came across as cold, but it wasn’t intentional. ‘’Did Susannah make you wear matching Christmas sweaters again?’’

Conrad groaned, confirming that she did. ‘’She got us matching pajama bottoms too, this year. It’s horrendous.’’

‘’I’m sure you looked cute— that it was cute,’’ you quickly corrected.

‘’I assure you, it was not,’’ Conrad denied, shaking his head at the memories. ‘’Mom put reindeer ears on Jeremiah’s head for the family portrait and I had a Santa hat.’’

You could totally imagine Conrad in a Santa hat and Christmas pajamas.

‘’Conrad?’’ He hummed, waiting for you to continue. ‘’Do you ever think of us? The ‘us’ before I moved to California?’’

The two of you were very close since third grade, but once you moved to California, you got radio silence from Conrad. No texts. No phone calls. Nothing.

‘’What do you mean?’’

You distanced yourself from him, preferring to be cold rather than close to someone who was playing fool. ‘’You know what I mean.’’

‘’You’re going back to L.A. in a couple of days. It doesn’t matter…’’

‘’It does!’’ you finally said, a mix of emotions coating your voice. ‘’I miss us. I miss us everyday, and after these past days, I don’t think I can go back to not speaking to you. I’m asking you one last time, Conrad, if you miss us too, please say it so we can stop acting like stupid teenagers and face what this is like adults.’’

Inside the house, you could hear people loudly counting down to midnight, meaning there wasn’t much time left.

Talking about feelings was always difficult with Conrad. He preferred to bottle them and be miserable instead of facing them.

‘’Of course I do,’’ he admitted with a rare vulnerability. ‘’No one matters more to me than you.’’

You didn’t hear the countdown reaching its end when you leaned up and pressed your lips against his, finally exploring the road untraveled by. You thought it would feel strange to cross the friendship line, but it wasn’t. It was easy and comfortable.

Conrad pulled you back to him with a hand on the small of your back, the sequins of your dress scratching his skin. You wrapped your arms around his neck, as if you were scared he would break the kiss too soon or just…run.

When the kiss did break, Conrad didn’t run. He was smiling down at you as cheers roared from inside the house, the clock having struck midnight.

‘’It almost doesn’t feel real,’’ you said, looking into his beautiful eyes.

Conrad leaned down to kiss you again. ‘’How about now?’’ He had an ever present smile on his lips, the kind of smile that couldn’t be broken by anything. The kind of smile that was from pure happiness.

Starting to feel too cold, the two of you headed back inside to grab your coat and leave. As you were maneuvering through the people, Jeremiah didn’t fail to notice Conrad’s hand holding yours. He elbowed Belly, who squealed excitedly.

—

All and more taglist: @kenqki @hawkegfs @gillybear17 @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade @mellabella101 @vxnity713 @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly @ethanlandrycanbreakmyheart @xyzstar @graceberman3 @mikeyspinkcup @jackierose902109 @daisydark @laurasdrey @mischieftom @fanatic4niall @peterholland04 @idkwhattonamethisblogs @lexasaurs634 @notasadgirlipromise @zoeynicolas @thejuleshypothesis @multi-fandom-bi-bitch @lexasaurs634 @notasadgirlipromise @thejuleshypothesis @katherinejess

TSITP taglist: @msmarvelknight @maritaleane @dingus0401 @idontknowwhatimdoing777 @nomorespahgetti @lomlolivia @5sosbands @bloodyhw @depthsofdespairr @a-band-aid-for-your-heart @gilbertscurls @brandirouse86 @leilani-nichole @bloody-mf-bsc @papayaboyluvr @bchindureyes @bellysbeach @slytherinambitious @darylscvmdumpster @johannelis2302nely @aqshua @foockingasshole @straberryshortcake143 @luiise @sickntiredtoo @adrluvh @mymultiveres @Rosekar16 @hopeurokays @amysangrl @hopelessromantic727 @beth-gallagher22 @lonelywitchv2 @arinexeisnotworking @cloudrainy342 @theflcwer @alllriseabove @angelxxrose @angelxxrose-blog @r1vrsefx @sierraluvzz @rodriqos @cruzgrecia @evelestrange @aesthetixhoe

#conrad fisher #conrad fisher imagine #conrad fisher x reader #the summer i turned pretty imagine #the summer i turned pretty #tsitp

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dellalyra · 11 months

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JUJUTSU KAISEN - Where do they take you on your first date?

A/N: pixie attempts headcanons.

N A N A M I

Nanami is definitely bringing you to dinner. It’s classic, timeless and tried and tested. He’ll pick a nice restaurant, not pretentious or obnoxious and very cosy - with good food. He’s showing up to pick you up with a simple bouquet of flowers, after dinner perhaps a stroll in the nearest park or he will walk you home.

G E T O

I feel like Geto is a coffee shop date guy. Simple but casual. He’ll show up with that damn smirk in a black oversized sweatshirt and pay for both your coffees. It’s just easy with him, there’s no airs or graces and god do you have fun. He leans over the table to wipe some foam from your lower lip and then licks said foam off his own thumb, maintaining eye contact the whole time.

G O J O

The most gorgeous little French patisserie, all soft colours and macarons and cream puff pastries. He’d feeding you little pastries the whole time and you don’t think you’ve ever seen such delight in a person’s eyes or laughed as much in your life. Neither of you want the date to be over, so it carries over into buying take home desserts and sitting on the balcony of his penthouse apartment, giggling as he manoeuvres you into his lap and you battle it out on Mario Kart.

M E G U M I

Bookshop. Don’t @ me on this. It’s cute, he has two hot chocolates in hand as he picks you up and then you stroll around the large bookshop picking up books to recommend each other, you end up buying one for the other to read. Before you part ways, you grip his scarf and pull his head down to your lips and kiss him gently and quickly.

“Bye, ‘Gumi.”

Adorable, he’s so blushy you might faint.

Y U U J I

ARCADE. He lets you win everything. Wins you 100 prizes and you’re following him around like he’s an excited puppy. He gets really excited because he wanted to show off so he decides to do just that by setting the record on the boxing machine. When the highest record lights and bells ring out he pulls you into his arms and spins you around and kisses you in a flurry of excitement. Seems shocked with himself when he sets you down, he goes to apologise but you just pull him to kiss you again.

C H O S O

Okay hear me out. The aquarium. He wouldn’t know really where to go so you suggest the aquarium, it’s one of your favourite places and you think he’d enjoy it. You have never seen anything sweeter than how enchanted he is by all the sea creatures, when you get to the rock pools and you can pick up starfish and other small animals he is so gentle with them you might just marry him then and there.

I N U M A K I

Talking isn’t his strong suit, for obvious reasons. So the cinema is perfect, he buys you both HUGE buckets of popcorn and then holds your hand or has his arm wrapped around your shoulders the whole film. He is so smooth and doesn’t need a word to do it. You go for milkshakes afterwards and giggle through text and sign language if you know it about whatever film you saw.

Y U U T A

The zoo. You both just wander around cooing over the animals or laughing at the silly things they do. If you pick up a silly animal hat then he will definitely wear it because the smile you give him could convince him the sky was yellow. He has a little picnic for you both to share on one of the sweet picnic benches together - full of your favourites that he had asked around to find out.

N O B A R A

Eh? Shopping.

M A K I

A hike is something I can definitely see her enjoying as a first date, it’s easy to find things to talk about on a date - it’s active so she’s still happy and it’s something you both enjoy doing - when you need a hand jumping a small stream, she’s taking your hand to balance your jump, “Atta girl.”

N O R I T O S H I

Escape room. No question.

#jjk #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jjk headcanons #getou suguru x reader #nanami x reader #nobara x reader #maki x reader #jjk noritoshi #noritoshi kamo #megumi fushiguro #choso kamo #choso x reader

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raz-writes-the-thing · 7 months

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How about a Crowley x reader story (or it can be headcanons, whichever you prefer ♥️♥️) where the reader is a very emotional person, who cries and gets frustrated quite often, and Crowley is the person who’s there to comfort them. He’s basically their partner, confidante and protector all wrapped up in one.

Untitled Crowley x GN!Reader

Fluff/Comfort

Requests are: OPEN

Crowley knew humans were vulnerable. All those emotions God had inflicted them with. He had them too, of course, but he had never met a human with such volatile emotions as you. And there was the added bonus that Crowley had had six thousand years to understand them.

Or perhaps he had, but he hadn't felt for a human with such explosive emotions such as yourself in all his six thousand years of life on Earth.

So, when you knocked on his apartment door, frustrated as all Hell and ready to collapse into a puddle of tears, well- Crowley hadn't been ready for it per se, but he also wasn't necessarily unused to seeing you overwhelmed at the end of the day and needing some support.

"Oh," he grunts in surprise as you wrap your arms around him as soon as he opens the door. "Oh, dear, right- you alright, love?"

You sigh out a breath of relief as you feel his arms come up to wrap around you. He tuts comfortingly and rubs the top of your spine. You don't have to see his face to know that he's got his bottom lip stuck out in the way he always does when you're upset.

Crowley let you stand there for another few moments before pulling away to press a quick kiss to your forehead.

"Come on, then, darling. Out of the doorway."

He closes the door behind you, ushering you into the extremely minimalistic flat. You supposed you had better change that soon- though with the amount of time you both spent at the Bookshop, it probably didn't matter so much.

"Right- now, tell me then?"

You huff out a laugh at his straightforwardness. Crowley wasn't usually one to beat around the bush. Not with this, anyway. Other things, sure. But when it came to you unwinding or venting? Crowley knew you just needed to get right into the thick of it so you could move on to the next thing on the agenda.

He listened as you told him about your day. About all the frustrating and upsetting things that had happened to you. He nodded along and poured himself a glass of whiskey, setting himself down on his chair and gesturing for you to sit on the table in front of him, tips of your shoes brushing the rug underneath.

One dexterous hand reached out to pull your leg over the arm of his chair. "Mm- yes, well that does sound rather odd," he replied to you, setting his whiskey down so he could tug your shoe off- quickly followed by your sock. The feel of his fingers massaging into your tired feet had you interrupting your own story to let out a satisfied groan.

This, of course, made Crowley grin like nothing else, and after a moment, he pulled your other leg up to do the same. You continued, feeling mildly overwhelmed with the recount of a particularly upsetting thing a barista had said about you behind your back. Tears welled for a moment, and you sniffled quietly.

Crowley stopped his massage at once, shuffling forward in his seat to brush your cheek with his thumb. "Oh, come now, love. You know- well as I do, that isn't true." And if Crowley made a point to put that particular barista's information in the Books of the Damned down below, then that was just his own business, wasn’t it? You did, of course, notice the flash of anger in those snake's eyes. "They were probably just jealous of you."

You sniffed out a laugh and wiped the snot from your nose.

"Yeah, maybe," you replied, rolling your eyes. But you couldn't deny the little smile that pulled at your lips.

"Oh, there you are," he chuckled. "Knew that wouldn't take long. Too enamoured by my demonic charms, aren't you?"

“You’d like to think so, wouldn’t you?” You replied, smile widening into a grin. Crowley downed the rest of his whiskey.

“Oh, I think I know so.” Crowley leaned forward even closer- close enough to feel his soft breath on your cheek. “In fact, I didn’t even have to Tempt you.”

And, well, that there was the truth of it, wasn’t it? You had sought Crowley out on your own. Once he’d caught your attention, there was no going back.

“Don’t play coy, love. We both know it’s true,” Crowley said softly, flitting his eyes down to your lips. It was barely another second before his lips were on yours, kissing you with such fervour that it took your breath away.

He pulled away, nipping at your lip teasingly.

“Right, then. Let’s get some food into you, Pet,” he said, giving your foot a comforting squeeze. “Aziraphale made scones. Never did get out of the habit of baking after lockdown.”

You chuckled and hopped up from the table, following your Demon- and feeling much, much better than you had when you arrived.

#good omens #gomens #crowley #crowley x reader #crowley good omens #aziraphale #comfort #one shot #fluff #anthony j crowley

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starzshopoflove · 8 months

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Civil Duties (Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader)

needed a title i think

Notes: fem reader! i hc ghost doesn't wear a mask when he's off duty, this is just whatever rot my mouse brain creates, age gap but not to crazy, sfw mostly ,size kink if you squint, literally just me projecting onto reader sorry i'm terrified of men irl, no smut guys simon doesnt fuck on the first date erm,,

You were probably gonna throw up out of pure anxiety texting him, not like you were scared but this wasn't some guy from school or a random guy who hit on you, this man was an actual man, like he's probably had real relationships and has his own health insurance (both false ahem). Of course you eventually bite the bullet and text him, exchanging basic information; your name, how old you were, what your hobbies are.

After 2-3 days of consistent messaging mostly on your end with Simon preferring an actual phone call letting you do most of the talking assuring you he doesnt think your rambling and is in fact listening, he finally asks you out for a proper date because his mother raised a gentleman that doesn't call it grabbing coffee then tells you its a date.

I feel like simon would try and clean up a little bit for a first date, you're not some barrack bunny he fucks with a mask on and never sees again!! So he’ll get his hair trimmed, shave his stubble, wear his nicer slacks instead of his usual worn jeans and iron his shirt before seeing you. Checking to make sure he didn't look dirty or smell so you wouldn't make that face from what he was hoping wasnt from him.

He’ll call you from outside the bookshop were your family flat was above and let you know he's here while you basically stomp around upstairs running to do the final touches on your makeup, making sure the dress you decided to wear wasn't too short and your hair wasn't standing on ends while you held the phone between your ear and shoulder hopping on one foot trying to get your shoe while you told him you’d be right down.

Simon, who checks his watch ( yes he has a watch this man is OLD) while waiting for you only turning his head when he hears your quick steps making way down the staircase in the back of the shop and patterning of your shoes across the store floor where you make your somewhat grand entrance out of the shop. He just kind watches you grip the door frame and place a hand on your knee to catch your breath because he doesn't know you basically just did 2 hours worth of hair, nails and makeup in 45 mins and still pulled it off.

“You look nice” was all he could choke out because he can't simply throw you over his shoulder and take you home and let you be his little live in girlfriend (dw give him time it'll happen)

You straighten yourself swallowing silently to yourself basically eating him alive with your eyes praying he can't tell (he can't hes busy thinking about how your gonna be late for lunch and doesn't want the good tables to get taken) letting your lips pull that stupid smile you have when your reading the softest part of a book where the mc finally gets what she needs.

“Really?” Of course when you said that it had to come with a little giggle that tickled his ears because that kind sound doesn’t come to often especially when he can see your face burning just a little and your fighting the fattest grin

“Absolutely”

Simon seems like the kinda guy to take you somewhere family run for lunch, quiet but the best damn food you’ll ever eat. Course you chat and you nudge him some of your fries where he placing some of the meat from his plate onto your (THAT'S NOT THE MEAT WE WANT) and you share a little “oh thats good” over your conversation that ends with you both deciding to go on a walk around the square

You’re just fucking eating up everything the whole time, actually hearing him talk more with that sweet deep mank accent while you explain the plot to some mystery book the shop stocked recently after he mentioned he liked the author, or when he picked his glass up for a drink and his arm flexed a little, oh my god you wanted to climb this man like a tree and pick his brain apart.

Obviously Simons is a very attractive man but you like your men with some sorta substance, and he has plenty. The way he actually listened to you and had questions on whatever you were saying, not making you feel like you were suffocating him because he happily listened to your blabbering about the latest new installment in a series you've been keeping up with or when you had to explain the concept of reddit to him to explain a story. It was nice, like he didn't mind you had so much in your head and was happy to let you spill it out

You’re like a breath of fresh air for Simon, most of his time off a mission is spent reading anything in a park or at the gym just trying to make the time pass quicker till his next mission, he didn't know what made him give you his number but seeing you twice in one day didn't feel like something he could ignore. Your hands were as soft as they looked, and you didn't smell like smoke or gunpowder, you didn't care that he wasn't super talkative because that look in your eye told him you know he was listening, he especially liked how you didn’t push when he said he just did “contracting” for work

When the date ended with you both walking back to the shop and you both stood in front of the big glass door quiet and awkward while you shifted from one foot to another not yet ready to leave. At Least not without a kiss, least you could do to say thank you for letting talk your ear off.

“Simon”

“Yeah?”

“Somethin on your cheek c’mere”

There's was literally nothing on his cheek but he still leaned down to you indulging whatever you had in mind, when you hooked a finger on the collar of his shirt tugging his face much closer

“Still cant see it?” He gruffed out letting your eyes meet his while his hands made fists in his jacket pockets trying not to just jump out and hold you by the cheeks

“Def can now ‘ts right here”

You tugged the shirt a little closer, slotting your lips onto a small hum leaving you when his tongue licked your bottom lip with you happily obliging parting just enough for your tongues to slide over each other, before pulling away.

“Did ya get it?” hes got a stupid grin now too not as wide and bright as your but its there

“Mhm”

You did you it *confetti*

#cod mw2 #simon riley x reader #simon riley #cod mw x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost cod #ghost x reader #mw2022 #ghost call of duty #sorry i just love civilian reader x ghost

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the-lost-girl-in-the-tardis · 10 months

Text

A chance meeting.

(Aka I'm bored and messing about with ideas.)

The ninth Doctor.

Weeping Angels:

The bookshop is quiet this late in the day. Just shy of an hour before closing. Some patrons are muttering amongst themselves. Sometime to you to make their final purchases. Others begin to wrap up whatever they were doing on computers and laptops.

You hum to yourself as you check in books. Stacking them in the rolling cart to later be shelved. The dimly lit room is bathed in the red light of the setting sun. There is a comfortable warmth in the air. The last remainder of a warm summer day.

After a while you stand. Popping your back after having sat down in one spot for so long. You began directing the customers out. Wishing the regulars a good evening as they leave.

When the door bell chimes one last time you sigh. Flipping the open sign to close as you locked the door.

Silence. Save for the distant rumbling of cars and the howling dog.

You still had to clean up. Gathering bits of trash from people who couldn't see the clearly labeled trash can. You stacked coffee filters back up. Open a new container of tea. Made a note to buy more syrups and more creamer.

You began to hum to yourself again. Half mumbling the words to the Beatles Blackbirds as you swept.

"Take these broken wings and-" Youpaused. Your broom had hit something solid behind the curtain. The yellow straw curled around stone grey feet. You laid the broom against the wall.

Your fingers met the sun bleached blue curtains you hadn't remembered closing. Having opened up all the curtains and windows to let in a breeze. The bookshops ac had broken a week ago and David still hadn't found someone to fix it.

"What are you?" The words left you in a mumble. The curtain rings scrapped against the metal curtain rod when you drew the fabric back. What sat before you was an angel esque statue. It's hands were over its eyes.

Something about it felt off. An age old instinct inside you yelled. Raged against your new age brain. You reached your hand out despite this. Grazing your fingers against the back of the hand of the eerily warm statue. You shivered. Swallowed thickly.

With your hands now on your hips you huffed. Tutting your tongue as your grumbled. "David and his weird decor choices." No doubt he had hid the damn thing behind the curtain to spook you. It wouldn't be the first time and it certainly wouldn't be the last.

You reached for the broom. Shivering as a soft breeze blew through the open window behind the statue.

It would just be your luck that you had to sneeze in that moment. Having forgotten to take you allergy pills that morning.

As you were wiping your nose with your handkerchief you just happened to glance up. Only to let out a curse and stumble back into an old bean bag. The statue had moved. Honest to god moved.

You shot to your feet. Eyes not moving from the statue as you walked backwards.

"Acho!" You and your luck. Maybe that's why you never won the lottery. The statue had moved again. A table sat between the two of you. The statue was grinning. Arm outstretched. Reaching towards you. You were close to panic. Hands shaking and palms sweating. You were cold despite the summer warmth.

You curse again when the lights began to flicker. A few bulbs in the children's section actually busting. Loud pops of glass had you flinching.

"I don't know what you are." You spoke. Reaching for a book left on the table. "But i'm not going to be that person who gets got in the first few minutes of a supernatural episode."

The book arced in the air. Smacking against the against the angel uselessly. The pages fluttered. Flew like confetti as the book exploded. More lights pooped. Slowly making its way towards the two of you.

You got the feeling that this thing liked your fear.

You began backing up again. Hands flailing behind you to guide your way. More lights burst. You hand meets the cold brass doorknob. You pushed the button to unlock it.

Nothing.

You tried again.

Nothing.

You jumped when you heard the whirring on the other side. Then the muttering of a man. Stupidly you looked away. Only to scream when the angel was right in front of you.

The door opened with a too cheerful "Ding!" And you fell into the arms of a man. The smell of leather heavy in your lungs.

"Hello!" The man spoke. His voice was accented.

"Hi." You spoke out quickly. Voice high with panic. Eyes still on the angel inside the book shop even as the man helped you to your feet. "You uh. You wouldn't happen to know what that thing is would you?" The man slammed the door closed and you got a proper look at him.

Leather jacket. Red shirt. Dark jeans. And a weird glowing pen in his hands. The sound of the whirring earlier obviously as he waved it around the door.

"That was a weeping angel. Quit lucky you." He pointed his pen at you before pocketing it. "I'm the Doctor by the way." He grinned.

"Y/n." You drew your name out as you spoke. A little more than confused. Both of you jumped when the door began to rattle.

"This is the part where we run. Come on!" The man, The Doctor. You'd ask Doctor who later. As it was it grabbed you hand and pulled. Leading you down the street as the world began to plunge into the night.

The Tenth Doctor:

Alien Invasion :

You had been painting when it happened. Sat out in an open meadow. Canvas only half filled. You wondered sometimes if it was still there. A burst of color in your otherwise greyed world.

The aliens had come without warning. Nothing save for the breaking of the atmosphere as their ships descended down to Earth.

You hadn't bothered to gather your things. Only turning and running before the behemoth of a creature could spot you.

Your truck had died over halfway through on the drive back. You later learned it was caused by an emp blast from the aliens. And so you ran.

It was late by the time you had gotten home. Both in the day and...

Still you could not think of it. Lest you make it more real. More tangible.

You chose to believe that they were ok despite the rumours surrounding the labour camps. You had been one of the few. The only who were outside those camps. The alien cities. Everyday was a fight for survival. Both against them and your fellow human.

As of right now though the squabbles have settled. At least amongst each other. Instead all of that fight was focused on one man who stood in the center of the room. Dimly illuminated by old oil lamps.

He called himself the Doctor and asked how he could get into the heart of The Capitol. The Aliens main base. A place that promised nothing but death.

"I have a friend there. Donna Noble. I need to get her out." There was a series of scoffs. Laughter. And uproar.

"Ya. You and everyone else here mate." A dark haired man spoke. You never bothered to learn his name. Or any others. To many people to lose to get attached. You had lost enough already.

You watched from your little corner in the room. Eyes fixated on the man as he tried to reason with someone. Any one in the room. There was something about him. They way he carried himself. When he circled his trenchcoat curled around his long legs. Brown eyes were darkened in the dim lighting. His lips were bit raw with worry. His shoulders tense.

"Please. Your the last group of people." Someone cut him off. The Doctor blew air out from his cheeks. Brows furrowed. He scowled. A type of anger you had never seen before flashed across his face. His mouth opened. Lips curled around teeth.

Until you stepped forward.

"I'll help." You told him. It wasn't some loud affair when you spoke. Quite the opposite. Your voice was quiet. Hoarse from lack of use. And when you moved closer to him Dian pulled at your sleeve. You shook her off. "I'll help." You spoke again. Wanting to clear away that look of disbelief from his face.

If it had been your family there. You would want help to.

.............

You were glad that you had helped him. Watching him interact with his friend. Donna had thanked you as well when it all settled down. At least now humankind will be able to re-build. Because of the Doctors efforts the Aliens had been driven away. Catapulted back into the skies where they had come from.

You had never met a man before that could instill so much fear with his name alone.

That left you here. Sitting well away from everyone as you sketched for the first time in a long time. Some skill had been left behind but the rest was still there.

You drew them. Happy. Smiling.

It hurt your very soul. Broke your heart. Even after all of this you still couldn't find them. And you had no one else to lean upon.

The pages darkened and his voice sounded in your ears. As did the sweet perfume you had first smelled as Donna sat beside you.

"What about you y/n? What are you going to do know that the earth is saved." You said nothing at the Doctors words. Merely shrugging your shoulders and closing the sketchbook before they could see what. Who you drew.

"Same thing I have been." You spoke quietly. Not looking at either of them as you looked over what had once been the Aliens Capitol. "Traveling. Moving." Alone.

You could see Donna look up at the Doctor from the corner of your eye. Such a kind and worried look on her face.

Then the Doctors hand on your shoulder. You look to see his face near yours as he bent down.

"Then how about traveling the universe? The stars? Lots more to draw than what's out here."

The Eleventh Doctor:

Crash Landing:

You are walking along the old graveled road to your home. Rocks crumbling underfoot as you go up the familiar trail. It's one you've taken for years now.

The air was cool and crisp. Sweet in your lungs as you breathed it in. In the distance you could hear the croaking of frogs. The chirping crickets. Here and there there was an owl. The sounds were comforting. Familiar.

Something was different about this walk though. Just. Have you ever walked into a room and it just felt different? Only to later learn that your friends or siblings had moved all the furniture a few inches to the left? That's what it felt like right now. That everything that you have seen for the last 15 years was moved a little to the left.

You took a step. Then paused. Ears straining to hear what you are no longer hearing.

The woods around you have fallen silent. No frogs, crickets. Nothing but the wind winding through the trees and the soft lapping of water on the shore from a nearby lake.

You turned on foot. Hand held light briefly lighting up the road, then the trees as you moved. You glanced up and into the sky. The moon was full and round. Almost bright enough that you didn't need the flashlight.

The air blew softly. Picking up with it the scent of wild flowers. It curled around you. Blowing around strands of hair and fluttering your open jacket.

You swallow thickly. Nervous. That was a new feeling on this road. This walk. Nervous. As if something was about to happen.

You stood on the spot for a few minutes. Eyes glancing about as you tried to find something tangible for this feeling. You drew in a breath. Held it. Then let it out.

!VAWHOMP!

You screamed when it came crashing through. It flung up wet earth and rock. Broke trees and it screamed. Yelled. A large blue box crashing and spinning into the Earth.

It landed some feet away and all you could do was close to hyperventilate. You body shook and your heart threatened to break your ribs with its rapid pounding.

The air was thick with the smell of freshly turned earth and wood. Normally it was comforting but.

The box made a noise.

"I... What?" You bag fell to the ground as you began to move. You almost fell into the trench it had made twice before you reached it.

The box made a wheeze.

You hand was on its side before you could think. Fingers running along the rough wood.

Curiosity got the better of you.

With some difficulty you clambered up on it. Skinning your knee in the process. After about a minute and some cursing and grumbling your were on it.

Police Call Box.

What was that?

Was that a door handle? It felt warm when you wrapped your hand around it. Pushing in did nothing. Pulling up on the other hand.

Smoke bellowed out when you opened it. It was thick and reeked of burnt motor oil. The door squealed on its hinges as it flopped to the other side. A bright light filtered through that smoke and for a moment you hoped that whatever you just breathed in wasn't toxic or radioactive.

Instead your lungs burned and you coughed. Hacking like that one time you had stupidly tried a cigarette when you were young. You waved a hand in front of your face trying to clear away some of the smoke. When it finally stopped bellowing out in thick clouds you stuck your head over the opening.

"How on gods green earth." You mumbled and leaned forward some more. Up an on your knees with your hands on the other side of the door way to brace you.

At a sideways view was the stranges thing you had ever seen. Some type of console you assumed a was in the center. Leading up to it was a walkway. At the end of the walkway was a man in a white shirt and suspenders. His face must have matched your own.

"How do you fit all of that in here?" The man shook his head. He was leaning on the consol thing. Rope in hand. He was coughing heavily every so often.

"How did you get up there?" He questioned back. You shrugged your shoulders.

"If you throw the rope I can catch it? There's a log out here I can tie it to." You offered. Questions can come later. And did you have a lot of them now.

#doctor who fanfiction #eleventh doctor #tenth doctor #ninth doctor #eleventh doctor x reader #tenth doctor x reader #ninth doctor x reader

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mimisempai · 6 months

Text

The guardian angels of Whickber Street

Summary

Crowley, a little annoyed by all the mysterious signs around him, even though it's Halloween, will be more than a little surprised when Aziraphale unravels one of the mysteries: the costumes they'll be wearing.

Notes

Thanks for being with me through all this flufftober!

The releases will be a bit more irregular for November, as I have to work on an ineffable fanfiction that will be much longer and something new for me. And also prepare the ineffable advent calendar.

But don't worry, as I'm addicted to my dose of ineffable softness, there will still be a few releases this month.

Day 31 : Halloween outfits

On Ao3

Rating G - 1675 words

"The amount of people on the street is unbelievable, it's a good thing Halloween is only once a year."

Crowley grumbled as he struggled through the door of the bookshop, his arms laden with bags of candy of all kinds.

Aziraphale rose from the table where he was carving pumpkins with Muriel to join him.

The demon asked, "Angel, where do you want me to put this stuff?"

Aziraphale replied, pointing to the table at the back of the shop, "Oh, dear, you'd be an angel if you could divide them between the two baskets I've arranged on the table over there.

Crowley replied, "I told you, the angel is you."

Aziraphale muttered, "And yet..."

Then, under Crowley's perplexed gaze, he went to join Muriel, but seemed to change his mind and, returning to the demon, whispered in his ear, "If you...uh, could leave me a few of these on the side?"

Crowley chuckled softly, "Angel, I don't need to, I bought a few just for you."

Aziraphale smiled brightly, then planted a kiss on the demon's cheek and replied in a teasing tone, "See, you really are an angel."

Then he left, laughing lightly at the demon's muttered protests.

As he sorted the candy into the baskets, Crowley asked, "Are you planning on letting people into the bookshop tonight?"

Aziraphale exclaimed, "Oh, no way! The store will be closed and the baskets with the pumpkins will be put out in front of the door."

The demon asked, "And where will we be?"

Aziraphale mysteriously replied, "It will be a surprise."

Crowley shook his head, again puzzled.

"Crowley!" The demon, having finished, turned to Muriel, who had summoned him, and he raised a questioning eyebrow.

The angel asked him, "Can you help me put the pumpkins in front of the door before I leave?"

Crowley nodded before walking over to the table and couldn't help but chuckle slightly at the sight of the pumpkins as he said, "Only you two can make Jack O'Lanterns look adorable."

Muriel asked sheepishly, "Isn't that good?"

Crowley shook his head, "Of course it is, my little bee, I just thought it was sort of fun. Nothing bad."

Muriel relieved, they both took the pumpkins and placed them in front of the shop, along with the baskets of candy.

"Well, I'm going home!" exclaimed Muriel, before adding, "I can't wait to put on my costume!"

"And what kind of costume will that be?" asked Crowley.

Muriel replied in a mysterious tone, "Wait and see!"

Crowley grumbled, "I hate both of you."

Muriel replied, "No, you don't, you love us," and then walked toward their apartment.

The demon returned to the bookshop and continued to grumble, "I know it's Halloween, but everyone is so damn secretive..."

He approached Aziraphale, who had his back to him, and added, "I know you're hiding something from me, Angel, so you'd better spill it."

Aziraphale turned back to him and said with a big smile on his face, "Tonight we're going to dress up too!"

Crowley frowned and said, "Okay...as what?"

Aziraphale replied cheerfully, "As you and me!"

"You mean as angel and demon?"

Aziraphale shook his head and said, "Almost. As angel and... angel."

The demon looked at him as if he had grown a second head and asked, "Have you gone mad?"

Aziraphale smiled indulgently, taking no offense, and replied, "Need I remind you that the people of Whickber Street call us their guardian angels?"

He approached the demon and, wrapping his arms around his neck, added with a tender note in his voice, "Besides, even though you have the appearance of a demon, to me you are the perfect embodiment of what an angel is."

Crowley looked at him again with a puzzled expression and replied, "I have to ask you again, have you gone mad, Angel?"

Aziraphale shook his head and replied, still in the same gentle tone, "You care about others, you are willing to do anything for those you love, including me, you are humble, you love humanity, you are capable of creating beauty, you share your knowledge and love with the world, shall I go on?"

Crowley, visibly moved by the angel's words, replied, "Angel, don't hold me to perfection, I could never live up to that standard."

Aziraphale raised his hand and stroked his cheek, "That is not the case. I love you just the way you are, the demon you are added to the angel you were makes you my very own angel."

Crowley, overwhelmed, buried his face in the angel's neck, who patted him gently on the back.

Then Aziraphale asked him, "Shall we do this, then?"

Crowley grumbled against the angel's skin, "As if I could refuse you anything after what you've just told me."

He straightened and asked, "How do you want to do this?"

Aziraphale replied with a wink, "Let's use a little magic. It's the perfect night for it. Ready?"

Crowley nodded and Aziraphale lowered his hand, made a small gesture, and suddenly they were both dressed in the same white robes with gold braids on the collar and sleeves that they'd worn when they first met.

Aziraphale pointed to the demon's hair and asked, "May I?"

Crowley nodded, and after Aziraphale's gesture, Crowley sported the same haircut he had as an angel.

Aziraphale stepped closer and couldn't help but make the little curl at the top of the demon's head bounce with his finger.

He murmured, "Adorable."

Then his hand slipped from the demon's hair to his cheek and he rose on tiptoe to press a tender kiss to Crowley's lips before stepping back and gently spreading his wings.

Crowley asked, "Aren't you afraid people will wonder?"

Aziraphale replied, "The costumes are so realistic now, people won't care. We'll say it's your phone that's remote-controlling our wing."

Crowley cheekily replied, "Since you can't type a message, I'm sure they'll believe me."

The demon spread his wings and turned them white. Aziraphale said softly, "You could have left them black, you know? My very own angel, half angel, half demon."

Crowley chuckled softly and replied, "Let's not draw any more attention than we already have, shall we?"

Aziraphale laughed softly and then held out his hand, "Let's go and enjoy ourselves."

Seeing the stars in his angel's eyes, Crowley would have followed him anywhere at that moment.

By the time they left the bookstore, Whickber Street was so crowded with colorful people that they almost went unnoticed.

They couldn't help but snigger when they saw Mr. Brown dressed as a vampire in the distance, and blended into the crowd as best they could to avoid bumping into him.

In the process, they ran into Mutt and his spouse, adorable in their Beauty and the Beast costumes. Mutt's spouse raved about Crowley's hair while Mutt wondered what magic made the wings look so realistic.

Then their attention was drawn to a group of three colorful witches, and Crowley muttered, "Of course, Hocus Pocus, perfect for these three."

They watched as the three witches approached, Nina, who clearly didn't look particularly thrilled to be there, Maggie and Muriel looking delighted.

Aziraphale looked at him quizzically, not getting the reference, which Crowley hastened to explain.

When they were face to face, Nina scoffed and said mockingly, "The three witches facing the guardian angels! What's going to happen?"

Maggie exclaimed, "You two are absolutely adorable!" while Muriel approached Crowley and whispered in his ear, "You're a handsome angel, but I prefer you as a demon."

Aziraphale nudged him with his shoulder as if to say, "See?"

They chatted with their friends for a while before continuing down the street, greeting their acquaintances here and there. Suddenly, as they approached the shop again, Aziraphale grabbed Crowley's hand and pulled him into a small, deserted alley before embracing him, and Crowley had no time to react that they were already on the roof of the shop.

"Angel?"

Aziraphale pulled him to the edge of the roof, inviting him to sit down beside him.

The stunned demon complied, and once they were seated side by side with their feet in the air, the angel regained his everyday appearance, and with a gesture, Crowley regained his own.

Then Aziraphale pointed to the people in the street and said, "Here we are, as the guardian angels of this street."

Crowley hummed and, after gazing down at the people, asked, "Angel, how about making their night a little brighter?"

Aziraphale nodded eagerly and, taking the demon's hand in his own, said quietly, raising his other hand, "Together."

They made a small synchronized gesture and Crowley said softly, "Let there be magic."

Almost immediately, they heard the gasps of wonder from children and adults alike, who watched as small ethereal lights fluttered around them like will-o'-the-wisps, others raved about the carved pumpkins that began to sing seasonal songs, others about their bags of candy that never stopped being filled.

Crowley's gaze caught a face raised toward them, and he recognized Muriel immediately. When they waved their hand, he knew they guessed who was responsible for all these little miracles. Then he watched with amusement as they ran toward two other people he recognized as Nina and Maggie.

He chuckled softly and said, "Good thing the people of Whickber Street are getting used to the strange happenings around here."

Aziraphale whispered to the people below, "May your Halloween night be filled with laughter, friends, love, and unforgettable memories."

Crowley put an arm around the angel's shoulders and pulled him close, saying, "You know, we already have it all. Our lives are now full of laughter, friends, unforgettable memories, and most of all..." he turned his head toward Aziraphale and finished, "full of love."

He leaned his face into the smiling angel's and kissed him tenderly under the stars and to the sound of the joyous shouts of the crowd at their feet.

The crowd that had no idea who was the cause of their joy.

The guardian angels of Whickber Street.

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story 🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Ineffable Growing Love series : here (After season 2)

Ineffable Husbands masterlist : here (Before season 2)

#good omens #aziracrow #ineffable husbands #ineffable boyfriends #aziraphale #crowley #good omens fanfiction #aziraphale x crowley #crowley x aziraphale #GOS2Spoilers

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homeofthelonelywriter · 1 month

Text

Found you

(A/N) My thought process writing this: Gets request: Fuck yeah! A Chishiya request! Thinks about it: Fuck, what do I write. Opens new page: Whatever, I'll just start. Reaches apartment: No smut, no smut, no smut. Reaches kitchen scene: Fuck it! Smut!

Also, this is eight word pages long, I might've went a bit overboard.

Pairing: Chishiya x Reader (no Y/N)

Warning: AiB stuff, smut

“Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.”

If anyone had been watching you for the past few minutes, they’d say that you were running for your life. Not that that’s not true. Your visa ran out today and you may have forgotten to keep an eye on time when you found yourself in your favorite bookshop, close to where you used to live. To be honest, who’s to blame you? Books? For free? As many as you want? Now that’s heaven.

Were your boyfriend there with you, he’d have laughed at your childish excitement when you realized that you could read as much as you wanted. But he would’ve also reminded you of the time and that you had somewhere to be. Damn, this… apocalypse or whatever was going on.

You followed the light through the streets until an apartment building became visible. You pushed yourself to run quicker and managed to cross the border of the game at what felt like the last second, almost crashing into two men. Thankfully, the short-haired one managed to catch you, before you either knocked both of them off their feet or faceplanted. Either one could have happened to be honest.

“Woah, you okay there?”

You looked up at the other man and tried to smile through the pain that was encompassing your lungs.

“Yeah…yeah. I-I don’t do…cardio.”

Your answer was interrupted by your panting, but at least it made the man smile.

“Me neither.”

The short-haired man agreed with his friend while chuckling. He kept his hand on your shoulder while you recovered from the exhaustion. The other man meanwhile, went and grabbed one of the phones off the table and handed it to you. The usual jingle came from its speakers while the camera scanned your face.

“Registration has closed. There is a total of 13 participants. The game will now commence.”

Another man approached your little group. He seemed confused and asked about the game and the world in general. As the long-haired man was about to explain it to the new man, his friend stopped him.

As your breathing had finally calmed down, you were about to speak up and explain the situation, but the familiar female voice, introducing the game, stopped you and the third man walked away.

“Difficulty, Five of Spades.”

The duo you’d met just now looked at each other confused.

“Spades means that it will be a physical game. You know, running, strength, all that jazz. The suit decided what kind of game it would be. Clubs means teamwork, Diamond means intelligence, and Spades means physical. Hearts is the worst one, all about betrayal. Better hope you never join one with your friends. Hearts games never end well.”

The two nodded, but before they could say anything, the female voice rang out again.

“Game is ‘Tag’. Rule. Avoid whoever is ‘it’.”

Confusion broke out among the participants, but you kept your focus on your phone, knowing that every information you’d get was important.

“Clear condition. Discover and touch the symbol hidden in one of the building’s rooms within the time limit. You clear the game when this objective is fulfilled. Time limit 20 minutes.”

You huff. That’s not a lot of time for a building with that many rooms. You glanced at some of your co-players. Many of them young, young enough at least to be of help. Or so you hoped.

“After twenty minutes, the time bomb hidden in the building will explode.”

Well, if that doesn’t motivate someone, then you don’t know what would.

Now that the rules and conditions were stated, everyone started to disperse. For a moment you considered staying with the two men, but ultimately decided against it. The group had to spread out to win this. So that’s what you did.

While most of the players decided to go to one of the upper floors, you thought you’d try your luck on one of the lower ones. You walked as quickly as you could without running until you hit a dead end. Good, that’s where you’d start. And all the while, you felt eyes on you.

“The game will now commence. The time limit is twenty minutes. Commence now.”

Without hesitation, you started, turning one doorknob after the other, hoping to end this game as quickly as possible. But it didn’t and before you knew it, shots rang through the night air. Out of instinct, you ducked, falling to your knees, before looking around.

“What the actual fuck.”

As soon as you were sure that you were not in immediate danger, you continued until you were done with your floor. But as you stood in front of the stairs leading up and down, you weren’t sure which direction to go.

That was until you heard the voice of the long-haired man.

“Everyone! He’s up here! Over here, he’s on the second level! He can’t see properly because of his mask! Tell us where he is if you see him, and let’s all look for the symbol!”

Fuck, second level. You hesitated again while you considered what to do next. But then a woman’s voice rang out, letting you know that it was safe to head to the second level since the killer was on the fourth one.

You continued, searching, letting the others know where the killer was, all while avoiding him. From time to time, you glanced at the phone, checking how much time was left. And it didn’t look good.

At that moment, you heard the long-haired man yell out that he needed help and that he found the symbol. You checked and realized you were on the other side of the apartment building and would never make it in time. Still, you started to run. You were one level above where the symbol was, when a jingle sounded from the phone, making you stop.

“Game cleared. Congratulations.”

A relieved sigh left your lips and you slumped against the nearest wall. You lived for another day.

While you were resting, you noticed the short-haired man walking up the stairs, and he was hurt.

“Hey, are you okay?”

He waved your concern off with a smile.

“Nothing I can’t handle. Have you seen my friend?”

You nod and tell him where you assume the man still is.

“Thanks.”

He hesitated before speaking again.

“Do you have somewhere to stay? If not, you could come with us.”

You shake your head with a smile and thank him, explaining that you have somewhere to stay. He nodded before taking his leave and searching for his friend. You decided to do the same. Take your leave, not search for his friend.

As you were walking down the front steps of the apartment building, a familiar voice stopped you.

“Found you.”

A quiet gasp escaped you as you realized who was standing behind you. You turned around, tears already gathering in your eyes.

“Chishiya.”

He smirked at you before opening his arms. You immediately rushed to him and threw your arms around his neck. He chuckled at your enthusiasm while pulling you closer to him.

“I can’t believe you’re here.”

You pulled away slightly, grinning up at your boyfriend. He smiled back before leaning down to press his lips against yours. You melted against him, reciprocating the kiss. Too soon, Chishiya pulls back before cradling your face in his hands.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

You shake your head, smiling at him.

“I’m fine. What about you?”

He shakes his head as well, his eyes scanning your body for any kind of injury before sighing in relief and pressing his forehead against yours.

“I’m so glad you’re okay, love.”

You grinned and closed your eyes.

“Me too, Chi.”

The two of you stay like that for a few moments, before Chishiya pulls back and takes your hand.

“Where are you staying?”

“In our apartment. Felt wrong to go anywhere else.”

Chishiya nodded, thinking for a moment.

“Let’s go there for tonight, okay?”

You nodded and together you made your way through the city until you reached your apartment complex. Once there, you climbed the few floors until you reached the door to the apartment you shared before everything went to hell. You used your keys to open the door and let Chishiya in before closing and locking the door.

He took a few moments to look at the changes you’d made since everything happened. You’d moved the heavy couch that used to be in the living room, to the door, so that you could block it whenever you entered the apartment. You’d also used blankets and pillows to make a bed on the living room carpet. Chishiya frowned when he noticed that and turned to look at you.

“The…the bed felt too empty without you there.”

Your boyfriend immediately pulled you into a hug, apologizing.

“I should’ve looked for you again, every day, I am so sorry. I just…after I couldn’t find you the first day I’d been here, I hoped and convinced myself that you were not here. That you were safe.”

You were stunned.

“Chishiya…how long have you been here?”

He tensed under your touch before relaxing again.

“Too long. But I swear I checked if you were here. That’s the first thing I did when I arrived.”

You squeezed him tighter, burying your face in his neck.

“It’s okay, Chi. I believe you. And I only got here two weeks ago, there’s no way you could’ve known that.”

Chishiya nodded but continued to hold you tight for some time. You did the same, resting your head against his shoulder, relaxing in his hold. The two of you started gently swaying, making you giggle and Chishiya chuckle. It felt like back when everything was okay and he would come home after a long day at the hospital and sweep you off your feet to dance around the living room before you could object. Many dishes were burnt that way and many times you had to order takeout instead. But you wouldn’t have had it any other way.

After a few minutes, you pulled back to look at him, before pressing a quick kiss to his lips.

“Now, what are you in the mood for? Instant noodles, or…instant noodles?”

You pulled out of his embrace and walked to the kitchen, where you had set up a small gas stove, as well as canisters full of water and a few pots. Chishiya followed you chuckling, pressing his chest against your back and trapping you against the kitchen counter.

“Hm…I think I’m in the mood for something else completely.”

He started to trail kisses from your cheek to your shoulder and back up again. A shiver ran through you and you couldn’t help but press back against him. His breath ghosted your skin as he chuckled, his hands on your hips.

You turned to look at him and without hesitation, he hoisted you up and sat you down on the counter, standing between your open legs. You instantly leaned in and pressed your lips against his, pulling at the white jacket he was wearing, until it landed on the floor. His hands, which were placed on your hips, moved up and grabbed the hem of the t-shirt you were wearing and pulled it over your head, discarding it on the floor, somewhere behind himself.

Goosebumps erupted on your skin, as Chishiya’s finger trailed along your sides until they reached your bra. Instinctually, he reached back, but when he didn’t find a clasp, he broke the kiss for a second.

“Sport’s bra.”

Those two words were all you said, before pulling it over your head and throwing it behind Chishiya.

“Jesus fucking…”

His remark was broken by a low moan escaping his lips before he dove forward, lips wrapping around your left nipple. Your breath got caught in your throat at the sensation. Chishiya’s left hand left your hip and started playing with your right nipple as your fingers started to thread through and pull at his hair.

“Chishiya…”

Your pussy squeezed around nothing, making you whine. Chishiya pulled away from your chest and grinned at you.

“What do you need, love?”

You glared at his teasing, but when he thrust forward, giving you just a little bit of friction, another whine left your lips.

“You. Need you Shiya.”

He chuckled and dove in for another kiss. While his lips moved against yours, his hands found their way to your thighs and hoisted you up again. You squealed into the kiss in surprise and pulled away as you tightly wrapped your arms around Chishiya’s neck while he just chuckled and walked.

“Don’t worry, I won’t drop you.”

Right when he said that he loosened his grip on you and you squealed again as for a second it felt like he was indeed dropping you. Chishiya laughed at your reaction and continued walking towards your bedroom.

“Asshole.”

A slap on your ass forced a surprised yelp from your lips, but before you could say anything, you were flying through the air, before landing on your mattress. You bounced a few times, while Chishiya watched from the foot end, an adoring smile on his lips.

“You know, I love you, right?”

You finally stopped bouncing and looked up at your boyfriend, a soft smile on your lips.

“Come here, you idiot.”

His smile turned into a grin as he quickly crawled over you and reconnected your lips. While using one hand to keep his weight off of you, the other wandered down and started to pull at the hem of your sweatpants and panties. You quickly assisted him in getting rid of the offensive pieces of clothing, before you started pulling at his swim trunks, making him chuckle.

“Eager.”

You were about to insult him again, but his thumb rubbing small circles on your clit stopped you and instead, a moan escaped your lips, which were quickly sealed by your boyfriend’s. A few moments later two of his fingers started gently probing at your entrance before pushing inside. Your pussy squeezed down around them, bringing out the smug side of your boyfriend, who pulled away and smirked at you.

“Someone’s fucking nee-.”

You interrupted him.

“Shut up and fuck me already!”

You didn’t need to tell him twice, as he quickly got rid of the trunks and gave his cock a few lazy strokes, before positioning himself at your entrance.

“I don’t have a condom. Are you su-?”

“Chishiya!”

He took the queue and carefully started to ease his cock into your pulsing pussy, moaning at the feeling of you around him. He quickly started thrusting into you, hoisting your right leg up and over his shoulder to reach deeper. The new position caused his dick to drag over that soft spot inside you with every thrust, making you see stars.

It didn’t take long before you started to feel that familiar coil in your stomach and you reached up towards your boyfriend, not able to say anything.

“You close, love?”

You nooded vigourously.

“Yea, me too.”

He leaned down, pressing your right leg up to your chest, but you didn’t care as his lips connected with yours at the same time, his thumb returned to your clit. Within seconds you felt that coil snap as you came around your boyfriend.

A moan left Chishiya’s lips as your pussy kept squeezing him, until he came inside you, spilling his seed as deep as he could reach.

After a few steadying breaths, Chishiya wrapped an arm around your waist and rolled over, so that you were now laying on top of him. You were still panting, your eyes slowly closing. Feeling the sweat covered skin of your boyfriend underneath you and hearing his beating heart slowly coaxed you into a deep sleep.

As soon as Chishiya was sure you were asleep, he carefully pulled out of you and laid you down next to him. He rolled onto his side and watched you for a few moments, before pressing a gentle kiss against your forehead. With that, got to his feet and grabbed a towel, wetting it with the water from the kitchen, before he returned to you and carefully cleaned you up. After that, he quickly gathered all the pillows and blankets you had laid out on the living room and returned them to the bed, where he made sure you were comfortable, laying down beside you and gathering you in his arms.

He smiled as you instinctually moved closer to him, until you were practically laying on top of him again. A smile graced his lips as he pressed one more kiss to your forehead, before relaxing and closing his eyes, slowly falling asleep, three words leaving his lips before he was pulled under by sleep.

“I found you.”

Please consider reblogging and following me! It helps a lot!

Alice in Borderland - Masterlist

#chishiya shuntaro #chishiya x reader #shuntaro chishiya x reader #aib chishiya #chishiya alice in borderland #chishiya fanfiction #alice in borderland #alice in boderland x reader #alice in borderland fanfiction #smut

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qqueenofhades · 9 months

Note

Feel like I just watched a parenthesis ao3 fic with Taylor Swift lyrics….

Look was this season's storyline mostly a mess? Yes it was. Did they fill a lot of time that they could have used more efficiently? Also yes. Did they leave us SUFFERING? DEFINITELY INDISPUTABLY YES.

But the rest of that shit was straight up angst/romance fanfic?!?!?! I mean?!?!?!

Angel Crowley/Aziraphale and Crowley before the creation

Validating the fandom headcanon that Crowley did in fact fall instantly in love in Eden, to the point he thinks that shielding someone from the rain and gazing into their eyes is the A+ number one way to get humans to fall in love

Also validating the fandom headcanon about Aziraphale finally realizing it in 1941

ALL THE MARRIED COUPLE BICKERING JESUS?!?!?!

THEY WERE INDISPUTABLY, INCREDIBLY, UNFATHOMABLY MARRIED

AZIRAPHALE JUST LIKE HONEY I AM DRIVING UP TO EDINBURGH IN YOUR OUR CAR AND CROWLEY BEING LIKE OKAY FINE BUT I AM STILL NOT HAPPY ABOUT IT

And CALLING AZIRAPHALE TO COMPLAIN THAT HE WAS MESSING WITH THE CAR WITHOUT PERMISSION

Crowley in the bookshop without his jacket AND WITHOUT HIS GLASSES (UNTIL THE LAST SCENE YOU KNOW)

Crowley rushing to Aziraphale's rescue with "Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy" blaring

The whole "how long have you been together/is the bookseller your side piece/do you have a husband because you're a walking gay disaster" scene with Crowley and Nina

The constant sitting at tables with candles! And roses!

EVERYONE IN THE BACKGROUND WAS QUEER??

JOB'S SASSY GAY SON! (DON'T EVEN GET ME STARTED ON THAT EPISODE! I AM SUFFERING!)

THE MAGICIAN AND THEIR TRANS SPOUSE

THE RANDOM GUY WITH GRINDR ON HIS PHONE

NINA AND MAGGIE OBVS

THEY REALLY SAID "YES WE SEE SANDMAN S1 WAS VERY GAY AND IT MADE SOME BIGOTS UNHAPPY, LET'S DOUBLE DOWN, JUST MAKE IT MORE GAY FOR EVERYONE"

GOD BLESS

and of course THE LAST SCENE

WITH THE BIG DRAMATIC LOVE CONFESSION AND CROWLEY'S "I WOULD LIKE TO SPEND..." LIKE THEY HAD THAT MAN WHOLEASS PROPOSING I WAS NOT READY

FOLLOWED BY THE BIG DAMN KISS (TM)

and AZIRAPHALE THINKING THEY CAN BE TOGETHER IF THEY GO BACK TO HEAVEN AS ANGELS TOGETHER WHICH IS OBVIOUSLY THE LAST THING CROWLEY WANTS

"I NEED YOU"

AND THEN OF COURSE IT ALL GOES TERRIBLY WRONG BECAUSE OF COURSE IT DOES

SECOND ACT CLIFFHANGER MY BELOVED BELOATHED

wow there are a lot of capital letters in this huh

I regret nothing

man that whole Stupid Homosexuals Cannot Communicate And Get Themselves Into a World of Self-Inflicted Hurt Because They Are So Dumb really is my catnip huh

/takes deep breaths

We're all fine here now

#anonymous #ask #good omens spoilers #ineffable husbands #THAT WAS A LOT

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crowleys-hips · 5 months

Text

I saw this picture of a snake in a stupid xmas hat and had to write this. Happy S3 renewal

Christmas Snat (Snake Hat)

Crowley slowly wakes up from a nap and yawns. He sleepily looks around the bookshop from where he's curled up on the armchair. He sees Aziraphale busying himself with hanging christmas decorations around the place, happily humming to himself some christmas tune. He flicks his snakey tongue out and takes in the smell of cinnamon and hot chocolate and gingerbread and smiles to himself. Aziraphale turns around from where he's just finished hanging up some string lights and glances at him.

"Oh, you're awake," he smiles warmly. "how was your nap, dear?"

Crowley stretches out his neck and slithers off the chair smoothly, sliding across the floor towards him. Aziraphale is quick to stretch out his hands, picking him up gently. Crowley coils around his neck and settles across his shoulders comfortably.

"Niccce decorating," he half hisses sleepily, nuzzling his neck.

"Aw, thank you! I'm nearly done, I'm just missing a few touches here and there, if you'd like to help. But right now, how about we have some gingerbread?"

"Sssoundsss good," he says as he moves his head to the side and tries to scratch it against Aziraphale's collar.

"What's wrong, dear?" Aziraphale asks as he walks to the backroom to retrieve the gingerbread cookies he's set on the coffee table.

"Head'sss itchy," Crowley grumbles, twisting around and trying to scratch the other side.

"Oh, that um-"

On their way, they pass by a mirror and Crowley catches sight of himself. His eyes go wide.

"Angel!"

Aziraphale scurries past by the mirror straight into the backroom.

"Angel. WHAT. Isssss. On. My. Head?"

"Nothing!" He picks up the gingerbread, along with two mugs from a cupboard, and quickly returns to the sitting area in the bookshop.

"It'ssss not nothing! I sssaw that! What did you put on my head!?"

"Oh, it's just a hat, it's festive!" he says as he sets down the gingerbread on the little table. "Mulled wine?" he asks, pouring some into the black mug.

"Yesss but take thisss thing off me!"

"But it's pretty," he pouts, "and it's festive and I got it just for you."

"And it'sss itchy and I want it off!"

He sighs. "Alright fine. But at least let me get a photograph of you with it."

"Abssssolutely not!" he uncoils from his neck and slithers off onto the sofa.

"Oh, please? And you'll never have to wear it again," he says, looking at him with big doe eyes

Crowley growls as he glares up at him. "Fine," he hisses.

Aziraphale's face lights up as he flashes him a bright smile and turns to retrieve his old SX-70.

"Alright, look at the lens," he instructs him as he positions himself in front of him and gets ready to take the picture.

"Thisss isss humiliating," Crowley grumbles.

"No, you look adorable! Alright smile!"

Crowley frowns. Aziraphale grins like a child as he snaps the picture. As soon as it's out, Crowley shakes his head violently, trying to get the damn thing off. Aziraphale sets the camera and the picture down, very pleased with himself and smiles at Crowley.

"Oh, alright. Here," he leans down and plucks the stupid hat from his head, giving it a light scratch with his finger. "All better?"

"yeyeye, jussst like that," Crowley almost purrs.

Aziraphale smiles and gives his snout a light boop. "I love you, you silly snake," he kisses the top of his head and stands back up. "now, how about you turn back so we can have these delicious cookies I've just made?"

Crowley stretches his neck up as he turns back into human form. He rolls his shoulders and gives his arms a little shake, settling back into this form again. Curiosity gets the best of him, and he reaches down to pick up the picture. He makes a disgusted face a it.

"Ugh, I look ridiculous."

"You looked absolutely adorable!" Aziraphale says as he wraps an arm around him and gazes down at the picture, smiling softly.

"I'm gonna burn it."

"Don't you dare!" he snatches the picture away from him and safely tucks it in his pocket. "Now, be a dear and try my cookies. Yes?"

Crowley groans softly but obediently sits down and reaches for a cookie and his mug of mulled wine. Aziraphale sits beside him and pecks his cheek before reaching one for himself.

AO3 link

#good omens #good omens fandom #good omens s3 #good omens 3 #good omens fanfic #good omens fic #good omens ficlet #ineffable husbands #ineffable idiots #ineffable lovers #ineffable partners #aziraphale #crowley #aziracrow #air conditioning

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deardiary17 · 3 months

Text

Summary: John Smith, the owner of a very successful bookshop, is in madly in love with his assistant, Rose Tyler.

TenRose Bookshop AU.

Read on AO3 or below the cut.

It was the shop's tenth anniversary, and there was a party, journalists and guests and all, crowded near the entrance.

“TARDIS Books” was the star of the neighbourhood that night.

But in John's eyes, even though the bookshop was his life's project, the only star of that night was her.

Rose Tyler.

Standing outside in the light of the setting sun, Rose was wearing a bright pink number with matching heels. The colour of the dress reminded John of the Barbie doll, but he grimaced and waved the comparison off, slightly disgusted.

There was nothing plastic, generic or artificial about Rose Tyler. She was as natural as they come, and he loved every part of her body, soul and mind dearly. He adored her too-wide lips, her warm brown eyes, the slightly yellowish shade of her bleached blonde hair, the light freckles on her cheeks and the playful shape of her nose. John was in love with her genuine smile, with the way she tucked her tongue into the corner of her mouth when she was teasing him, and he cherished the glowing warmth of her hands whenever she held his.

John admired Rose's strong will, her unbending desire for everyone to be treated fairly, her compassion and ability to find something good even in the darkest of days. He respected her work ethics, and he was eternally grateful for every night she spent at the shop helping him, giving up her sleep and private life for the sake of his business’ flourishing.

John appreciated every time she made him smile.

John was in love with Rose Tyler, madly, truly, fully in love, but Rose Tyler didn’t know that. John was in love with Rose, but it was unrequited, and he'd be damned if he scared her away with his unwanted advances. She was a sweet, young thing, full of hopes and dreams, and it was only a matter of time before she decided that working in his dusty shop as his assistant was not what she wanted, that the world held so many wonders and excitement, and that the company of John who's eight years older than her and a widower to boot was not what was in the books for her.

No. Rose Tyler was no Barbie. She was exceptional, Rose was, and there was not a single person, both character-like and appearance-like, anywhere in the world.

And so she was wearing her cotton-candy-coloured dress with glitter-covered pumps, and her hair was up in a stylish bun that would look strict and old-fashioned on someone else, but it looked classy and sophisticated on her.

John was mesmerised by Rose’s smooth, even movements as he watched her come outside and greet the crowd with an eager smile on her face.

Then, John was startled when one of the shop’s workers asked something of him. He was reminded that Rose was out there entertaining the public, holding them from entering the shop until all the preparations for receiving guests and the press were finished. He glanced around the bookstore, noticing how the tables with nibbles were already arranged at the back, finger foods and cupcakes covered by protective plastic domes, he saw the staff putting last details in the press corner, and he watched another worker set the projector on so that the invited authors could give lectures and use the equipment to show their presentations.

A small area with easels and paints was set in the corner of the shop, too, for Rose’s later workshop with younger readers.

“Doctor? Rose said to tell you to go upstairs and change into the tux, she said she had one delivered from the dry cleaner’s,” Martha, one of the people who has been with John from the very opening of “TARDIS Books”, touched him on the shoulder. “She won’t be able to withhold the crowd from going into the shop, so you better hurry!” Martha teased with a smile and pushed him towards the stairs to the second level of the shop where the bookshelves and the staff room were.

Doctor. The nickname that reminded John all the more about Rose. It was her who gave it to him after witnessing him rescue an old, tattered book and turning it into an almost brand-new one. Rose said that he’d given that poor book another life, healing it, and nicknamed him “the Doctor” immediately.

The nickname caught on quickly, and soon both the workers of the shop and the media started calling John that.

John rolled his eyes good-naturedly but followed Rose’s instructions. It was funny how he was her boss and she was his assistant, yet there were many times when it was John who had to follow Rose’s words.

She was a force of Nature, Rose was, and honestly, her instructions and plans worked wonders for both him and the business ever since he’d hired her on the spot about two years ago when she stumbled into the bookshop in search of work. Some of the shop’s workers weren’t happy at how easy a twenty-two year old Rose with no A-levels landed the job, suspecting (not unjustly, he was smitten at first sight) John’s feelings interfering with the fairness of the interview. The displeased murmurings, however, died down a month into Rose’s working at “TARDIS Books” after things there began to run more smoothly than before. Rose knew the exact time of book deliveries, created the perfect time table for other workers who had before that followed John’s strange working hours, took hold over John’s own meetings concerning the shop. Rose also made a few suggestions on how to attract more customers, including the youngest ones, by holding kids’ books reading sessions with voice actors who were just starting their careers, and she managed to engage other readers by asking John to allow a reading club to gather at the shop every two weeks.

All in all, Rose’s appearance brought in a much-needed order into the life of “TARDIS Books”, and in John’s life, too.

Even if Rose also brought a huge torrent of feelings into John’s life, making him fall in love with her almost immediately, and turning slight infatuation into full-blown unrequited love.

With a heavy sigh, John ascended the stairs and walked into his study, locking the door behind him to change into the tux. God, he hated poshing-up and playing it cool in front of the press ever since the accident with Joan. Both the tabloids and the serious newspapers had the time of their lives after the tragedy struck, and many issues printed his mourning face and the latest speculations on what truly happened to his deceased wife on the front pages of fresh issues.

And now he had to go out and perform for the press, again, even for a cheerful cause this time, but there still would be lots of gossip and speculation about his private life.

John could bet they would say something about Rose…

Rose!

Who was left alone to fend off the press and the guests, allowing him time to recuperate and get ready. He’d all but thrown her to the sharks while reminiscing about the past.

Damn it!

In record time, John was dressed in a three-piece suit, and he picked up a random tie before rushing out of the study. He was tying the tie around his neck as he was hurrying down the old stairs (everyone agreed that it added charm to the shop’s atmosphere), and was finally standing in front of the glass doors, summoning his ‘press’ self, coaxing the fun, ‘devil may care’ personality to ward off the blatant, sometimes too-personal questions of the journalists.

Then he noticed that one of the most eager journalists was shaking Rose by her arm, desiring her attention, and he frowned, resentful at such a rude gesture.

He pushed the glass door open and was immediately blinded by the cameras.

“It’s the Doctor!”

“The Doctor’s here!”

“Mister Smith, can you share your feelings about tonight?”

“John, is what Miss Tyler said about you writing a book true?”

“A book, yes! Rose won’t share any details!”

The clamour of the crowd was deafening, and John scrunched his nose at the noise. Blimey, how did even Rose stand all of this for so long?

He stood right next to Rose’s side, and he knew that he didn’t imagine her shoulders falling in relief at seeing him.

John felt guilt gnawing at him. Rose was never too enthusiastic about being in the limelight, not experienced to such publicity, and because of him she was encountering press often, and today she was also alone.

Well, no more, John thought resolutely, and smiled at the crowd, waving playfully.

“Hello everyone! We’re chuffed to see all of you here. It's a great honour to host a party tonight for such a happy cause,” John said enthusiastically, and the enthusiasm was real this time.

He looked down to Rose, who was standing on the right side of him, and she looked up at him, too, smiling widely at seeing him.

He couldn't help but grin stupidly in return.

“What about the book? Mister Smith, tell us about the book!” someone from the crowd repeated the question.

“Will you be expanding “TARDIS Books?”

John perked up at hearing that.

He'd been thinking about that on and off for the last two years.

“Well…” he drawled, making the crowd lean in in search of promising news. He smirked, shrugging nonchalantly. “I won’t confirm or deny anything yet, but I’ll admit that it’s a dream of mine, having a franchise opened somewhere in another city,” John explained vaguely.

All of a sudden, he felt a strong shiver that wasn’t his, and he turned his head to look down on Rose, who was standing stiffly, still by his side, close enough for him to finally notice that she was cold.

Her shoulders were up to her ears, and her hands were clasped tightly, palms moving so that there was friction that would keep her fingers from being cold.

“We want there to be not one, but at least a dozen franchises throughout the whole country,” Rose exclaimed excitedly, and John could hear the tremor in her voice that wasn’t related to nerves. He touched Rose’s naked shoulder gently and nearly hissed in sympathy.

Rose’s skin felt cold as ice.

John’s body moved without thinking. His mind’s demand that Rose was safe and comfortable overrode his actions, and he was shedding his jacket immediately, covering Rose’s body with it. He manoeuvred Rose’s arms into the jacket, and she, astonished at such a sudden and loud display of affection, and she submitted to the action without protest.

So engaged by each other, both John and Rose couldn’t really notice newly-started murmuring of the crowd and another wave of flashes from the cameras.

Rose exhaled with a shudder, smiling a bit woodenly at him - blimey, she must’ve been cold this whole time, John thought guiltily. He stood impossibly close to Rose and started running his palms up and down her arms in a fast motion, hoping that the friction would warm her up a little bit.

Better yet, he hoped that they could return to the safety of the bookshop sooner, before Rose suffered a cold because of the freezing temperatures.

Silly girl, John thought with desperate fondness as he fought the urge to hug Rose tightly to his chest, to put his arms around her and and squeeze her gently until she could feel his heartbeat, to kiss her hair and put his chin on the top of her head…

Wow!

His infatuation got the best of him for a moment.

John barely kept himself from shaking his head to disperse the persistent love thoughts he had about Rose.

They were mates, best mates even, and he’d be damned if he let his humongous crush on Rose scare her away.

John was older. He was a widower. He had a reputation of a Casanova of sorts, especially after Joan’s death and the mourning period that followed. He was terrible at all things domestic and steady, and his working hours left much to be desired.

John was no catch despite what the press was saying, and Rose would never want someone as burdened and imperfect as him to be her lover.

She deserved much better than him, Rose did.

And John would rather have Rose as a friend in his life instead of having her distance herself from him at his love confession.

And so, he persisted in seeing Rose as his mate, hiding his painful crush away from the world.

Someone in the crowd asked yet another question about John’s upcoming book, and Rose was quick to John’s rescue. She knew well enough that he felt that it was too early for him to share his plans with everyone.

“We want there to be Doctor’s books as well as many franchises across the country,” she said cheerfully, but her voice stuttered and shook when she inhaled, shivering, and John found himself holding Rose closer to his body, trying to share the heat in him.

Boy, was there plenty.

“We’re shameless like that,” Rose kept going, laughing breathily at her words and the crowd’s approving noises, “we want John’s business known and available everywhere!”

The people laughed. John smiled as he looked at Rose, careless about the onlookers, feeling a turbulent mix of awe, lust and adoration.

She truly wanted him to succeed, and he knew it was genuine desire for him to be prospering and happy, Rose didn’t desire anything in return.

Christ.

John wanted to throw his hands up and yell for the whole world to hear that he loved her.

Loved her, desired her, wanted her to want him.

John was startled out of his reverie by Rose’s strong shivering and a loud gasp.

“Alright you lot!” he said loudly, trying to be heard over the chatter of the people. “It’s absolutely freezing outside, and Rose here is turning into an icicle,” he tilted his head to Rose, still hugging her close to his chest sideways. purely for keeping her warm, of course, not because of his humongous crush on her. He then motioned for the people to go towards the entrance. “She’s the best assistant in the world, and I’d rather not lose her to a cold or a nasty pneumonia,” he explained with a smile, but he was starting to get worried about Rose’s health for real.

They needed to go to the warmth of the bookshop, even if Donna and Martha hadn’t finished with the last minute preparations yet.

As if Donna was reading his mind, the glass doors behind them opened, and Donna hollered in her usual style:

“Oi! What’re you standing there for? Go on then, come on in, and please follow your pre-booked places. Martha will be checking the invitations to help you find the workshop’s locations.”

The people moved forward excitedly, and John hugged Rose’s shoulders to pull her to the side away from the crowd.

Rose didn’t protest, and he could swear that she leaned closer into his half-embrace, and he felt her nose touch the skin above his shirt.

He gulped and, to keep himself from daydreaming about being Rose’s lover further, he passed his palms over Rose’s arms again, then, when he reached the bottom of the sleeves, he took over the task of buttoning the jacket over Rose’s body busily.

He bit his tongue trying to keep from lingering the tips of his fingers on the bare skin of her collarbone.

Rose giggled, but it was awkward because she was cold.

“John, stop it! You’re such a fusser. I’m not made of glass, you know,” Rose complained, but John knew it was half-hearted, she was still shivering, and her nose and cheeks were comically red.

God, she was beautiful.

“Yeah?” he challenged, raising an eyebrow at her. “Try to tell that to your chattering teeth. You’re shaking like a leaf,” he frowned at her when she looked him in the eyes. The glittering heels of her shoes made Rose taller, closer to his eye lever, but still not close enough to him in height.

His heart stuttered in his chest, hopeful.

“I’m fine,” Rose said stubbornly but didn’t protest when he risked being outed but hugged her to him, wrapping his arms around her back.

“Mmm, this is nice,” Rose mumbled happily into his tie, her face hidden in his chest, and John felt his heart swell with unbelievable love for her. “Are you always this accommodating to all of your workers?” she teased, and John could swear that she was flirting with him.

John made a spectacle of pushing her away, and Rose protested with a pitiful groan. “No, don’t be cruel. I’m only joking,” she said, and he sighed, refusing to let himself place his chin on the top of her head no matter how much his heart desired that. “Seriously though, John, I’ll be fine. It’s just a little wind and snow. The snow isn’t even sticking to the ground.”

“A little wind and snow!” John cried out, looking down at her, incredulous. “Why in the world did you go out without your puffer jacket outside in this blasted cold?”

“The people were ready to storm the bookshop, and I knew that neither you not others were ready. I was he only one not doing anything,” she explained, and there was a hidden ‘duh’ in her intonation. “I also wanted to show off my new dress,” Rose murmured softly, embarrassed.

“I’m sorry? What was that?” John asked, teasing.

John knew that Rose rolled her eyes at him even if he couldn’t see it.

“I wanted to show off my fancy dress,” Rose repeated with mock irritation in her voice. “I saved money for it, too, and I wanted to look pretty in front of the press next to you,” she explained, and she sounded sheepish to John’s mind.

“Rose?” he called, not understanding her. “What do you mean by that? You always look good enough, whatever gave you the idea?” he asked, puzzled.

He barely held himself from saying that she always looked beautiful and attractive to him. He held his tongue just in time.

John pulled away from Rose, staring into her face that was astonishingly red now, and not just from the cold.

“Oh John,” Rose smiled awkwardly but looked away. “Don’t be sly to spare my feelings,” she said, fiddling with his tie.

John frowned, not following her line of thinking.

Rose tsked and moved her head impatiently.

“It’s just gossip, people talking, is all,” she said quietly.

“What of it?” he tilted his head to try and look at her face, but she was looking at her shoes studiously.

Rose muttered something unintelligibly.

“Rose?”

She sighed, and he saw how tense her body was all of a sudden, a far cry of how soft and pliant she’d feel in his embrace mere minutes ago.

With his heart hammering in his chest, John let go of Rose and gently placed his palms on her cheeks, urging her to look at him.

“What is it, Rose? You can tell me,” he promised and smiled a little to tell the truth.

Rose’s face flushed, and she stammered out:

“It’s just that…the media is not impressed with me being your assistant. They found information about my…” she trailed off, shrugging, and she would have averted her face had John not been holding her face. “They found out about my past. And they don’t like it.”

John scowled. He had a bad feeling about what Rose was going to say.

“When did it become their business?” John asked, insulted on Rose’s behalf.

“Well, you’re a very…” Rose raised her chin at him, highlighting her point, “media-loved person. And they don’t think I'm the best match for being your right hand...”

John’s jaw dropped.

“What?!” he exclaimed, pulling a disgusted face.

“They think there should be someone better at the assisting position. Like Martha, and she’d been with you for longer than I am, and she’s a prestigious uni student, and people think she’s better suited for this position…”

When Rose spoke those words, she looked down. John’s heart fell at seeing her looking so insecure, so defeated. The shadows of her lashes painted a mournful picture on her cheeks.

John hated it. He hated the sadness and the trouble people caused her.

“Rose, whatever happened in the past is in the past now,” John reassured Rose, and he gently pushed her face up to make her look at him. “What Ja…” upon hearing that man’s name, Rose screwed up her face, and John rushed to correct his mistake. “What that man did to you is not your fault. You know that, Rose, don’t you?” John asked, but something told him that Rose didn’t share his point of view.

“Isn’t it? Nobody really agrees,” she replied with a laugh, but it was self-deprecating. John frowned. He knew that she was still blaming herself for what happened in the past, and it wasn’t right. Nor was it fair.

Rose kept talking. “Whatever you think, people everywhere think differently. They say that my history puts a shadow over your brilliant success, you need no reputation spots when it comes to the shop’s future.”

On a whim, he pushed her in for another fierce hug.

“I wish you wouldn’t think like this about yourself,” John said close to Rose’s ear. “I wish people would mind their own bloody business, too.”

He heard Rose chuckle wetly into his shirt’s collar.

“Nah. People will be people. I just need to stop reading comments to articles about “TARDIS Books”.

John snorted and pulled away from Rose, keeping his palms still on her upper arms.

“And I wish you would stop reading those stupid comments, too. People are idiots. You’re brilliant,” he said sincerely. Then, seeing Rose’s blush return with vengeance, he declared dramatically to save her from further embarrassment, “In fact, I’m brilliant, too!”

Rose giggled, feeling better now that the attention was off her. John smiled tenderly. She was so unused to praise and compliments, shying away from extra attention whenever possible.

John smiled playfully, ‘boyishly’, as Martha said all the time, and Rose returned the smile eagerly, feeling her own heart squeeze torturously behind her ribs at how much love and affection she felt towards John.

John and Rose were standing in the street, looking at one another with smiles on their faces. Both of them were holding themselves from revealing their painfully hidden feelings from one another, assured that said feelings would be unwelcome and undesired by the person they were in love with.

That is, until Donna opened the glass doors of the shop, having got sick from watching the lovebirds gazing at each other adoringly, and hollered for them to enter.

“Oi! You two! Quit loitering about, John’s lecture starts in fifteen minutes, and you, Rose Tyler, you better get in and get your bum warmed up, I can feel your shivering from here! You have the illustration workshop in fifteen minutes, too!”

John and Rose jumped away from each other when their tiny personal bubble blew apart at Donna’s loud voice. Rose shifted from one foot to another, smiling awkwardly and fiddling with her earring. John pulled at his ear and scuffed his shoe on the floor, frowning at Donna’s ‘perfect’ timing.

“Did you two not hear me or what? Come on! Shift!” Donna yelled, rolling her eyes.

All of a sudden, Rose’s hand was in John’s, and he turned to her with a grin on his face:

“Hurry up! Before she kills us!”

Rose laughed and walked fast after him, trying to not twist her ankles in high heels.

“Oi! I heard that!” Donna grumbled as they entered the shop’s doors, passing her.

But both John and Rose knew that there was no bite behind her words.

#please if you liked this story - give it a reblog <3 #reblogs mean a lot nowadays in the era of instant gratification #ten x rose #tenrose #tenth doctor #rose tyler #ficandchips #doctor who #fanfiction

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canirove · 4 months

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In The Name of Love | Chapter 7

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Masterlist

"Ferran, is this allowed?"

"Not really" he shrugs. "But you aren't the first girl we are sneaking into the hotel, and won't be the last" he smirks.

"What if they see us?"

"I'll deal with that, don't worry."

"And what if he doesn't want to see me?"

"He will, Val. For the past month he's been looking like shit again, like when they made him play every game under the sun. But you should have seen his face on the bus on our way to the stadium. His smile. That was my Pepi."

"You need to stop calling him that, he doesn't like it."

"I know" Ferran winks. "And this is his room."

"How did you manage to get the key?"

"I can be very charming" he smiles.

"That charm didn't work on Luis Enrique's daughter, did it?" I chuckle.

"I had not missed your witty comments, Val. Anyway, go make yourself comfortable, he'll be here any moment now. And try to fix things before fucking. Or first fuck and then talk. I don't know, whatever works for you."

"Thank you, Ferran" I say, rolling my eyes.

"My pleasure" he replies, taking my hand and kissing it like he always does before saying goodbye. "See you around, Val."

"Bye" I say, walking into the room.

Just like his own back home, it is an organized mess. There are shoes on the floor, a towel thrown on a chair, a phone charger hanging from the bed's headboard… And a book on the bedside table. "Harry Potter and the prisoner of Azkaban."

"You've kept reading" I smile, touching its cover.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"You spend hours traveling and in hotel rooms. Why don't you pick up a book instead of playing FIFA all the damn time?"

"Because reading is boring."

"Not if you find a genre you enjoy. For example, what movies do you like watching?"

"Anything Marvel" Pedri says, his eyes fixed on the tv.

"Those are comics, you could read them."

"But if I've already watched the movies, what's the point?"

"Sometimes, if not always, the books are better than the movies."

"Sure. And 5-0. That will be happening in real life very soon" he smirks.

"Militao and Alaba won't allow it" I reply, sticking out my tongue. "But that's not what we were talking about. What other movies do you like?"

"I don't know… Harry Potter?" he shrugs.

"Have you read the books?"

"They are for kids."

"Said the old man" I laugh.

"You know what I mean" he says, trying to tickle me.

"Pedri, don't" I warn him, moving away from him. "But you've given me an idea."

"Tickling contest followed by sex?"

"No."

"Then I'm not interested."

"We are gonna have our own movie and book club."

"What?"

"You'll read a book, then we'll watch the movie together, and then we'll discuss which one is better."

"You won't be reading with me?"

"If I have time, I will. I promise."

"Ok…"

"Do we have a deal, then?" I say, offering him my hand.

"We do" he replies, taking it and using it to pull me against him.

"Pedri!" I laugh while he moves me until I am straddling him.

"Can we now have my tickling contest followed by sex?" he smirks.

"We can skip the tickling" I say, wrapping my arms around his neck. "But tomorrow we are going to a bookshop and buying you the first Harry Potter book."

"Fine" he sighs. "Can I kiss you now?"

"You can… Pedri Potter" I laugh.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"Val?"

"Oh, shit" I say, coming back from my memory, the book falling from my hands.

"What are you doing here? Who let you in?"

"Ferran" I say, standing up and leaving the book on the small table.

"Ferran, of course" he scoffs. "Was this his idea?"

"Kind of. I didn't want to sneak in, but I needed to talk with you, so" I shrug.

"Talk about what?"

"Us. Me. I want to explain everything to you."

"We can't talk while you are wearing that."

"What?"

"My shirt. I can't focus knowing that my name is on your back."

"Oh, sorry" I say, playing with the hem of the shirt. "I thought you would like it, but I can put on a jacket or something if it bothers you."

"It doesn't bother me, Val. Well, it does, but not in the way you are thinking."

"What?" I ask again, looking at him.

"It bothers me because you don't know how many times I've pictured you wearing it. How many times I've imagined us fucking while you only have my shirt on. And now here you are" he says, slowly walking towards me. "In my mind you are always wearing the Barça one, but oh well."

"That will never happen" I reply, my voice shaking a bit.

"I know" he says, getting closer. He's looking at me as if I was his prey, as if any moment now he will jump at me and devour me. And it is turning me on. Big time.

"Then…"

"Then we are gonna have to do something about this" he says, now just one step away from me.

"About what?"

"Me wanting to fuck you."

"Aren't you still mad at me?"

"I am. I'm mad. Disappointed. Sad. Confused. And fucking hard, Val. I want to bend you down on that bed and make you scream of pleasure while I see my name on your back."

"Then do it" I hear myself saying.

"But you came here to talk."

"We can talk later."

"You'll be too exhausted to talk after I'm done with you."

"Nothing like trying" I say, closing almost all the space between us, my heart feeling like it is about to explode inside my chest.

"Are you sure?" Pedri asks, arching one of those perfect eyebrows of his.

"I am. Are you sure you can do everything you are bragging about?" I tease him, moving until our noses are almost touching. "You kids like talking and then…"

"As if I had ever disappointed you" he laughs. "That was your ex, not me."

"There always is a first time for everything."

"Not with me, and not today. Definitely not today" he says before kissing me.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"Morning" I yawn.

"Good morning" Pedri smiles.

"Have I ever told you that I love your smile?"

"You've said that you like it, but I think this is the first time you've said that you love it."

"Well, I do. I love… fuck" I complain when I move.

"Sore, uh?"

"Yes."

"I warned you."

"Shut… ouch!" I say when I try to hit him.

"Do you need me to carry you to the bathroom or something?" he says with a teasing smile.

"I can do it myself, thank you" I reply, slowly moving to face him while trying really hard to not complain again.

"Are you sure you don't need my help?"

"I'm fine, Pedri. I've been this sore before."

"With whom?" he laughs. "I'm sure your ex never did what I can. Or made you feel the way I do."

"He didn't, no. But last year Emma convinced me to go to one of the classes she takes at the gym, and for the next four days I felt like this."

"So you are just out of practice, uh?" he smirks.

"I am, yes. A month of doing nothing, and look at me. I'm getting old" I sigh.

"You aren't old, Val" Pedri laughs. "And I can help with your fitness. Because I'm a professional athlete and all that."

"Of course" I laugh. "Anyway… Is it ok if we have that chat now?"

"Sure" he smiles.

"Ok" I say, taking a deep breath. "I've rehearsed this many times in my head, so let's hope I remember everything."

"There is no rush, take your time" he says, caressing my cheek.

"I have time, my plane doesn't leave until late in the afternoon. But yours?"

"That doesn't matter now, Val. Talk."

"Yes, ok. So, umm… I guess I should start from the beginning, right?"

"For example" he chuckles.

"So… Marc and I have basically known each other our whole lives. We went to the same school, same high school, same university… And I think I always had a crush on him. Like, I can't remember a moment before we started dating where I didn't think he was… perfect. He comes from a really good family, very posh to be honest. And he is charming, intelligent, super nice with everyone, handsome… The man every mother would like for their kid. And when we both were 15, he asked me out. We were in the same group of friends with Silvia and Isabel too, and half the girls in our high school were in love with him. But he chose me. The girl who didn't drink or partied, the one who knew Real Madrid's starting eleven by heart instead of how to do her makeup, the one who didn't dress fancy, the one who wasn't considered one of the hot girls but neither an ugly one. I was just… there. And he saw me."

"Because you have something, Val, I already told you. I still don't know what it is, but… It is there."

"Yeah, well, thank you" I smile, feeling my cheeks getting warm. "Anyway, after he asked me out we started dating, and that made many girls jealous, Isabel the first of them all. Looking at it now I can see that she bullied me for years, but back then I didn't understand what she truly meant with her comments."

"And Marc didn't do anything?"

"No, he didn't. I think he didn't notice either. Or that's what I want to believe" I shrug. "When we went to uni, Isabel was sent abroad, and during those years without her, everything was perfect. I had met new friends, I was loving what I was studying, and Marc and I were better than ever. But then we both finished our degrees, and everything changed."

"Isabel came back?"

"Among other things, yes. Even though we had just moved in together, I felt like our relationship wasn't going anywhere. Silvia had just met Pau for example, and I kept looking at them or some of our other friends and then at us, and something was missing. And then I found myself jobless. Marc had been offered a position on the bank where he had done his internship the moment it was over while I had nothing. I didn't know what to do, if I should keep studying or what. I even started having doubts about teaching, wondering if I had wasted my time and money on a career that I didn't truly like, on something that I wasn't made for. And seeing him thriving while I had all that in my head, wasn't helping our relationship."

"Did you ever tell him?"

"I tried, but he always was so busy…"

"And he didn't notice something was off with you?" Pedri asks, putting a lock of hair behind my ear.

"Never."

"What a shitty boyfriend, then."

"Yeah" I chuckle. "Thankfully everything started to change when I met Emma. Silvia had booked us a pottering lesson and she was there all alone, so we asked her to join us and we instantly connected. Back then she was working at an academy teaching extracurricular lessons with kids of different ages and that they were looking for people to cover for someone who had just retired. She asked me if I was interested, I said yes, and I suddenly found myself with a job and feeling alive again. It was as if all my doubts and fears had disappeared, as if I was me again. The only thing stopping me from moving on and enjoying myself again, was Marc."

"So you broke up with him."

"I did."

"How did he take it?"

"Really good. He said that we had made it to a point where we were more like flatmates sharing the same bed than boyfriend and girlfriend."

"But he never bothered to talk about it with you. He sounds like a bit of a coward, doesn't he?"

"He is, yes. After we broke up I moved in with Silvia, but I still wasn't feeling completely like myself. And then, the night at the opera happened."

"The night… I'm lost" Pedri says.

"Remember when I told you about the engagement party, that it was themed as a night at the opera?"

"Oh, yes."

"Well, six months after Marc and I broke up, he and Isabel were going on a date to the opera and sharing their first kiss."

"Six months?"

"Yep."

"He didn't waste his time, did he?"

"And neither did Isabel. The moment she found out we had broken up she was all over him. This was her chance and she wasn't gonna let it pass."

"And she didn't" he laughs.

"She did not, no. I was so angry when I found out. The person I had shared my life with for a decade was now dating the woman who had bullied me for years. And according to most of our friends, I didn't have the right to feel like that because I had been the one who had broken up with him."

"What?"

"Yeah" I sigh. "Anyway, a couple of years passed, I got used to them, dated some guys here and there and started to work at my current school, but I still couldn't let go of that anger, I couldn't close that chapter of my life. Then they announced their engagement, and I met you."

"And I made you forget."

"Exactly" I say, moving closer and caressing his cheek. "You were exactly what I needed to finally leave them in the past, to move on, to fully enjoy this new life I had started after breaking up with Marc. You made me forget about them and my anger, but also made me stop thinking that I was a failure because I had wasted the best years of my life with a man who didn't deserve me or because I wasn't getting married and having kids like everyone else. You were the key that closed that door, but also the one who allowed me to completely open the one of my new life. The life I wanted, one that was mine and no one else's."

"Then why didn't you tell me about Marc? Why didn't you tell me all this?"

"Because I was afraid, Pedri. Afraid of losing you because you are still young and knowing all this about me could scare you and make you run away. Afraid of opening up to someone again after everything I went through. Afraid because maybe telling you could open that door again and make me realize that I had been lying to myself, that he isn't in the past."

"And is he?" he says, wiping away a tear.

"He is. He definitely is, now I know it, 100%."

"Good. Because Val…" Pedri says, cupping my face and making me look him in the eyes. "I have feelings for you. I'm not sure about what they are exactly, at least not yet. I have never felt like this with any other girl I've been with, you know? But I do know that I want to be with you. And I want you to be able to trust me, to open up to me, to tell me everything and anything that worries you. I'm here for you, Valeria. I'm not going anywhere."

"Thank you" I smile between sobs. "But I like it better when you call me Val."

"What?"

"Marc always called me Valeria. Always. And I found it so annoying… Not even my mum calls me like that, only when she's angry with me."

"Ok" he laughs. "Then I will only call you Valeria when I'm angry with you."

"And during sex."

"What?" Pedri laughs again. "Is that some kink or something?"

"When you moan my name it turns me on" I smirk.

"Interesting" he smiles.

"Are we ok, then? Have we made up?"

"We have."

"Thank God" I sigh.

"That much did you miss me?"

"I did, yes. You can ask Silvia and Emma if you don't believe me. And before you say it… I missed everything about you. Not just the physical part."

"One would start to think that you've caught feelings, Miss Val" he says with a teasing smile.

"And one may not be wrong. But step by step, ok?"

"Step by step" he says before kissing me.

#pedri #pedri gonzalez #pedri fanfic #pedri imagine #pedri gonzalez fanfic #pedri gonzalez imagine #football fanfic #football imagine

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daydreamingleclerc · 1 year

Text

‘tis the damn season - pierre gasly

in which, on coming back home for the holiday season you bump into an old flame and it reignites.

warnings: angsty… exes to lovers, swearing, alcohol, driving over the limit (do not do that it is illegal), charles being an agony aunt, unprotected sex, oral (m,f), fingering, i think that’s it. not been proofread, switches between 1st and 3rd person. she is a LONG one so grab a snack & buckle up.

based on the song ‘tis the damn season by taylor swift

there was a little cafe in your hometown that you visited frequently when you returned. it was warm and cosy in the winter, with a little fireplace in the back corner and a huge bookshelf for a wall that had everything from brontë to shakespeare to harry potter. they seemed to be the favored books judging by the spines.

it was all decked out in christmas decorations this time, with tinsel hanging from every possible surface, jolly notes on all of the mirrors, christmas music playing from the speakers across the floor and the smell of gingerbread wafting through the cafe constantly. there was even a christmas tree in the back corner where people could place presents for people less fortunate than them; it was a kind gesture that didn’t go unnoticed.

Y/N was hasten to admit that she spent most of her time here when she was back at home. she only came back for the occasional birthday and the holidays — after living here for almost twenty one years of her life, she didn’t want to spend more time here than she had to.

she was always working, writing out the next chapter of her book, or she read when she needed an escape from her own fantasies. thriller books were an endless supply of exciting when she read them throughout her life, but writing them seemed to be a little bit more difficult.

everything was spread out on the small table in front of her, and as the world moved around her — kids with that excited christmas buzz, parents who couldn’t wait for school to re-start, the elderly who just needed company over the christmas period — she tucked her legs under her bum and continued reading.

“wuthering heights always used to be one of your favorites.”

she paused momentarily, her eyes lifting from the pages of the book only slightly, not enough to take in the stature of the man standing opposite her. she tried not to let the look on her face change, she tried to act like she couldn’t tell who it was just by the breath that left his mouth, but it was too late.

“what copy is that one now? probably the fifth, sixth, even.”

“what’re you doing here, pierre?”

she didn’t mean to come off as brash, or snappy, but those things happened when she thought about him. that was the first time she’d looked at him since leaving, and she was stunned by the way he’d matured. his hair was neat, dark brunette now compared to the long, messy blonde it was when she last saw him. his eyes were still blue, cheekbones still defined. the facial hair really stood out to her, she’d never seen him so rugged before.

“the same as you,” he replied, “back for the holidays.”

“your parents don’t live down this end of town,” you scrunched your up your nose and folded the page down on the book.

“they moved,” he stated plainly, “they live next to charles’ mom now.”

you nodded, the tension among you was painfully awkward, and you found yourself wishing pierre would just leave. he rocked back and forth on his heels gently as he waited patiently for his order to be made; he’d drifted away from the counter and so he knew they’d have to shout it over to him eventually.

“that’s nice,” you replied, filling the silence with words you thought fitting. kids ran past the table with crayons and colouring sheets as they sang along to the song on the speakers, their christmas buzz effortlessly innocent. a drastic difference to the pair of you.

“my mom said she saw your books out in the local bookshop, apparently they were the front window display,” he said, unsure if he should pull up a chair or stay standing; safe to say he chose the latter. you’d been cold with him for almost two years now, he couldn’t blame you. “she said she almost bought one, but she wasn’t sure if she was allowed.”

a little flicker of a smile rose on your face, but it quickly faded when someone walked past with a tray of drinks. it was as if you didn’t want to be seen talking to him; which once again, he couldn’t blame you for.

“of course she’s allowed, my problem’s not with your mom,” you realised quickly that the sentence didn’t quite land the way it was supposed to. you placed the book down on the counter. “shit, that’s, uh.. i didn’t mean it like that.”

pierre shook his head sternly, as if telling her to forget about it. he looked down at the table in front of you and saw proofs of what looked like a new manuscript, with jots and doodles labeled all along the margins.

“are you writing a new one?”

“mhm,” was all you managed to say, and you looked up at him for a short second, “murder mystery.”

the fireplace beside you crackled and that was the first time pierre noticed it was even burning, “my favourite,” he chuckled dryly, choking back his adam’s apple as he thought desperately of things to say.

“you probably can’t say what it’s about, can you?”

“i don’t really think—”

“—pumpkin spice cappuccino with an extra shot and a chocolate hazelnut croissant to go?” the barista shouted pierre’s order, and he turned around and waved. it was frantic, and you weren’t really sure why or how you lurched out to spoke to him; it just happened like clockwork.

“it’s about a woman called estelle who goes missing, if there’s no body there’s no crime,” pierre smiled as you spoke, and for a fleeting second it felt like you were teenagers again. he took the drink and the small paper bag from the barista and looked over at you once more, “and this is my sixth copy of wuthering heights.”

charles’ mom’s annual christmas get together was the last place she wanted to be. y/n wanted to be tucked up in bed with a hot chocolate, surrounded by yet more proofs of her next chapter which she would undoubtedly be editing until the early hours.

yet, there she was. in charles’ mom’s front room, surrounded by the people she grew up with; including pierre.

he glanced at her with a watchful eye all evening, sipping at his red wine until the glass emptied and the process repeated. she’d hardly noticed she’d drank almost two bottles of white to herself, until she went to pour herself another glass only to find that it was dripping out into the glass after about 50ml poured out.

“Y/N, i’ve not seen you drink this much in years,” charles nudged his friend, sitting back, “what’s up?”

she glanced back over at pierre, who’s gaze averted hers almost immediately after she looked over. “i saw him today for the first time in… i don’t know? however long it’s been since i left, and i just…” she took a minute to compose herself, placing the glass on the floor so she didn’t spill whatever was in there, “it just brought everything back about everything that happened between us and it reminded me why i left in the first place.”

charles’ arm wrapped around her shoulders, his drunken state seemed to dim in the airing of Y/N’s feelings. she felt bad bringing up old wounds, especially about bitching to charles over a relationship that spanned four years and ended almost three years ago.

“i’m not expecting you to take sides, charles,” you patted his leg, “i know he’s your best friend and i know you’re racing together now, it’s unfair of me to offload on you but—”

“—i always said what he did to you was fucking stupid, Y/N,” charles rested his back against his mothers sofa and Y/N followed suite. “and if truth be told i’ve never let him live it down, you have every right to feel how you feel, and you have every right to vent out how you feel, but have you told him?”

Y/N looked between charles and pierre. her ex-boyfriend scowled over at the pair, an irritated knot between his eyebrows. she knew he was trying to decipher what they were talking about, whispers of his name could be seen tumbling out of their lips and it made his ears stand to attention. charles had that soft, doe-eyed look on his face, the one that begged Y/N to be his friend all those years ago when they were at school together.

“of course i haven’t, i can barely look at him charles,” she muttered, fiddling with the hem of her skirt, “i’m pretty pissed off that he’s still hot, he could’ve gone back to the haircut he had when we started dating, maybe then i wouldn’t be so mad.”

she thought about their first date at the movies, with pierre’s stupid long, justin bieber-esque hair with blonde tips. it was so stupid, and he cut it off soon after they started to date.

“i’m sure he’s just as pissed off as you are,” charles’ eyebrows furrowed as he fumbled for the words to say, “i mean… because, well… leaving this town was… it did great things for you.”

“that was really hard for you, wasn’t it?”

pierre’s eyes got thinner when he caught the pair of you laughing. he was jealous, he wanted you all to himself even though he had no right to be jealous.

“i just mean that going away really changed you in the best way,” he nudged you again, “i think you ought to tell him.”

charles was right. Y/N knew he was right and she knew she should tell pierre, at least if not for herself so she could move on with her life. the réalisation suddenly dawned on her that she’d hardly dated in the last two years, and as a twenty four year old woman, that was embarrassing.

“okay fine,” she huffed. “but first, let’s get drunk.”

several hours passed, and Y/N’s vision was going blotchy. she didn’t intend to drink as much as she did in such a short amount of time, but every time she thought about opening up to pierre, she ended up with another drink in her hand.

pascale’s liquor cupboard was almost completely raided, but she didn’t mind. she insisted that ‘this is exactly what her parties were for!’ and so, Y/N used that to her advantage. even arthur struggled to keep up with her, and he was the youngest out of the bunch.

“no, charles, it’s late,” Y/N’s words were slurred as she fumbled with her jacket in order to get ready to leave, “you already have half the party staying with you. my car isn’t far away.”

“no, no way, Y/N, you’re not driving.”

“charles, i’m fine,” she whined, but her breath said otherwise. his face twisted at the smell of her alcoholic breath, “please let me go home.”

“i’ll call you a taxi,” he snatched her car keys from her hand.

“no need, i can drive her home.”

pierre’s voice came into earshot, and Y/N grumbled. she wanted another drink. charles turned to face his friend, a raised eyebrow. “are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“charles, i had two glasses of red wine three hours ago, i’m fine.”

charles shook his head and pulled pierre over to one side, “no, i mean… are you sure it’s a good idea driving Y/N home?”

pierre looked over at Y/N, and he couldn’t leave her to get a taxi or walk home on her own, and he was the only person leaving the party at the same time; everyone else was crashing.

“charles, i’m sorry but i’m not leaving her, she’s not safe on her own.”

“can you two girls stop gossiping and tell me what’s going on?”

charles snickered and pierre smirked softly. your sarcasm when drunk was one of their favourite things about you.

“pierre’s gonna drive you home,” charles handed the keys to pierre, and much to Y/N’s disgust, she didn’t have another option. “he’ll make sure you get there safely. you know that.”

Y/N wrapped her arms around charles’ shoulders and gave him a cuddle, before stumbling out of his front door into the chilly december air. pierre caught up to her, keeping an eye on her stumbling as she walked in her suede boots, trying to make sure she didn’t trip over and break her ankle.

“how far away is your car, Y/N?”

“parked it between the methodist church and the high school,” she said, slurring her words even more now she was out in the cold air. “it’s not that far of a walk.”

“slow down,” pierre reached out for Y/N, wrapping his hand around her clothed arm as she walked. she immediately slowed, and they walked side by side now. “you’re gonna break a bone or something silly and christmas will be ruined.”

she let out a little laugh. “sorry, this was the last way i intended to spend my evening, no offense.”

“none taken,” he held up his free hand. he could see the road between the church and the school, and the sparse row of cars lining it, “i just couldn’t let you get in a taxi on your own… and i also didn’t want you to get arrested for drunk driving.”

“how romantic,” Y/N replied sarcastically. they crossed the road and she patted the boot of her car to let pierre know it was hers. he realised then that being an author paid rather well, seeing as the car was almost brand new. “i’d appreciate it if you stopped drooling over my rear plates and take me home.”

“Y/N Y/L/N drinking all night and not asking for a pitstop at mcdonald’s?” he questioned, unlocking the car doors with the press of a button and slipping inside, “maybe you really have changed.”

“shut up, pierre,” Y/N grumbled, trying not to show the look of amusement on her face, “just take me home.”

he helped Y/N buckle in her seatbelt and made sure she was safely strapped in before hitting the road. he wasn’t as much of a reckless driver as she remembered; but he got a kick out of driving stupidly thanks to his day job now.

as he continued to drive, Y/N began to rummage around the globe compartments. “are you looking for something?”

“thirsty,” she muttered, “i had a bottle of water in here earlier but i don’t know where i — ow!”

as Y/N rose from her curved back position only to hit her head on the sun visor and trapped her finger in the glove compartment.

“are you okay?”

“fine,” she muttered, soothing her sore finger and throbbing head. “just want some water.”

despite being less than five minutes from Y/N’s house, pierre pulled over at the nearest petrol station. he could’ve waited, drove her home and got her water when she was there, but he knew how she got when she was drunk. she would break every glass in that cupboard to find the one she wanted.

“stay there, Y/N.” he said, unstrapping himself and locking the door behind him. Y/N sighed to herself, alternating between sucking on her finger now and rubbing her head. she couldn’t nurse both minor injuries at once or else she got nauseous and overstimulated.

“here, drink this,” he handed her a cold bottle of water and she took it in her hands, the temperature sending tingles up her arms. as pierre strapped in, he threw some things into the back seat. “got you some food and painkillers, too.”

Y/N smiled at him, a genuine smile that warmed his body from the bottom to the top. “thank you.”

“don’t mention it,” he smiled back at her, and the two were lost in a moment before he snapped out of it and reignited the engine. “right, let’s get you home.”

they pulled up in Y/N’s parents driveway, and pierre grabbed the snacks from the back seat and got Y/N to hook her arm through his so she didn’t stumble off and break anything. he fumbled with the keys as she told him which was the one for her parents house, until eventually the door swung open.

pierre was unsure where to go from here. he didn’t want to leave her, she needed to sober up a bit before he felt safe to leave, but he’d done what he said he was going to do; and there was almost no way he expected to stay.

“come in, then,” she whispered, “you’re letting the cold in and my parents’ll be pissed off.”

“i don’t know if that’s a good idea, Y/N,” pierre took a step back. “i’ll just hand you your things and i’ll walk back to my mom’s.”

“no,” she grabbed out for his arm and squeezed the flesh, “please, stay. i, uh… it’s almost two in the morning and i would really appreciate the help in preventing an awful hangover.”

he entered the house, the scent familiar, a part of his history he’d kept locked away in the back of his mind for so long. the place hadn’t changed since he last saw it, and for that he was relieved.

pierre helped Y/N up the stairs and to her bedroom, easing her bum down on the mattress and she sighed in content. “how’s your finger?”

“sore,” she said, allowing him to hold it in his hands and inspect the flesh. “do you think it’s broken?”

“no, probably just bruised.” he deciphered.

the two sat in silence for a minute, the only sounds filling the room being their heartbeats and breathing. pierre wasn’t sure where to go next, he didn’t want to bring up ancient history and upset Y/N, but he also didn’t want to act as if it was never there. she felt the same.

“i was speaking to charles at the party,” she hummed, realizing that tonight was probably the only chance she was ever going to get to speak to him about what happened, and she had to use it to her advantages. “i was airing out my frustrations over you, and he said the only way i was going to get over them is if i expressed them to you.”

“ah.”

“i don’t think i need to state the obvious and say that what you did really hurt me,” she continued, “but for what it’s worth it did, but i’m sure you of all people know that. i just need to do this so i get closure, so i can move on from that situation without it hanging over my head like a bad omen. does that make sense?”

pierre nodded his head. Y/N had been more articulate and spoken more to him in the last 90 seconds than she had in the last two years.

“completely,” he gave her a soft smile, “i’m sorry. i want you to know that. it was the stupidest, most immature thing i’ve ever done and charles still hasn’t let me forget it.”

“it’s nice to know that he keeps you in check.”

the pair of you shared a laugh, and after finishing the bottle of water and knocking back a few preemptive painkillers, you felt so much better.

“i should get ready for bed.” you hummed. pierre nodded and shot up from the bed, walking to the door.

“right, yeah, i’ll uh… i’ll get some blankets and a pillow, sleep on the sofa.”

Y/N wasn’t sure where it came from, in fact, she couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out of her mouth. they just did.

“pierre, wait.” the man did as she asked, halting just by the knob of the door and turning to face her. what she did next was something not even he expected.

she shrugged off her jacket and slowly began to one by one undo the buttons on her blouse, her eyes never leaving pierre’s face as she did so. “stay, just for a little longer.”

pierre knew better than to be enticed. he knew better than to get lured into this wicked game, than to give into the devilish temptation that would undoubtedly split open a can of worms and create more harm than good. but then again…

his feet had a mind of their own and walked towards her, lips finding hers in the most effortless of ways. he pushed the blouse off of her shoulders, the warmth of her skin against his was a sensation he’d missed dearly.

her hands wrapped around his neck and tugged at the tufts of hair along the back. she seemed unable to break away from the kiss, fighting her urges to pull away for air until she absolutely had to. pierre’s hands were chilly on her waist, igniting goosebumps on the warm flesh. there was no need for words, and so they didn’t fill the air with useless breath.

Y/N’s hands trailed underneath the cotton of pierre’s white shirt, the heat of his abdomen leaving little to her imagination. pierre’s lips dropped down to Y/N’s neck as his hands moved up to the clasp on her bra, and he admired her chest for a moment before working his way down towards it.

“god, i was so fuckin’ stupid,” one of his lips attached to a nipple, and you stood there with a half open mouth, attempting to push off his shirt as he worked against them.

“mhm,” you breathed. “so stupid.”

his fingers curled into the waistband of your skirt and tights, and carefully he pushed them down your legs until they pooled at your ankles, the only thing covering you from him now was just your underwear.

you successfully managed to push his shirt off of him, and he got you to lay back across your bed, and slung your legs up over his shoulders.

your underwear was lace, and so as he ripped a the stitches one by one until it eventually broke apart, and you were left unable to complain because the feeling of his tongue roaming your pussy was simply too good.

you’d missed feeling his tongue all over you, and oh god, had he gotten better. his mouth worked on your clit relentlessly, and with every flick of the sensitive bud you cried out, desperate to keep quiet so your parents didn’t wake up.

y/n’s hands found pierre‘s hair and she tugged on it exactly like she used to all those years ago whenever they found themselves in this position. her mouth fell open into an O, and she found herself lost for breath and moaning pierre’s name over again.

“ssh,” he whispered, pulling his lips away from her clit momentarily, “we don’t wanna wake the house, do we?”

she shook her head and he continued to work on her clit, using new and old techniques alike to bring her to a mind-numbing, leg shaking orgasm.

she bit down on her lip so hard that she drew blood, a moan of pierre’s name leaving her lips. he pulled away, and instead of wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he leaned down and kissed you, just the way you used to love it.

“fucking hell,” she breathed, and when his fingers curled inside her, the breath that was half out caught at the back of her throat. “your fingers… they feel so…”

Y/N couldn’t finish the sentence, too caught up in the way pierre’s fingers worked at her g-spot, alternating between hitting it and his thumb circling the clit. her legs were still thrown over his shoulders, and as he inched further and further up, the angle got deeper and deeper.

“oh… fuck, pierre,” she whined, “please… please don’t… fuck, don’t stop.”

“i won’t, babe,” he kissed along her thighs, “you’re doing so well for me, hm? gonna cum for me again?”

she nodded, breathless and squirming as pierre’s fingers sped up, the alternation of his fingers becoming shorter and faster. she gripped at the sheets with one hand and tugged at his hair with the other, unable to hold back a string of moans and profanities as her second orgasm washed over her.

“need you,” was all she could say. her voice was feeble and embarrassing; she was well aware that she’d spent a ridiculous amount of time trying to get over pierre, and she’d spend so long avoiding it that what she really needed now was to feel him buried inside of her once again.

“i know baby, i know,” he cooed, unbuckling his belt and ridding himself of the clothing covering his bottom half. your face flushed when you saw him naked, as if you’d never seen him like that before. “do you have anything?”

Y/N froze in that moment — of course she didn’t. this is not how she intended to spend her christmas holiday. “shit,” her head fell to her hands, “i don’t have anything, do you?”

pierre shook his head.

“i’m on the pill,” she said after a moment of silence. “it’ll be fine, p.”

his mouth turned up at the name she always used to say to him. “we don’t have to if you don’t want to, no pressure.”

“i want to.”

she was sure, affirmative. pierre nodded, leaning over her and pressing a long, hot kiss to her lips. he made sure she was comfortable, placing her legs up so her knees were facing the ceiling and her feet were planted firmly on the ground.

it felt like a dream when he slipped inside of her, to both of them. she was the perfect mixture of stimulated that he found it easy to drag along her walls, and she was also clenching around him like a vice. he was the perfect potion of slow and needy, as if he desperately wanted to feel her encapsulating around him, but he knew his limits.

pierre’s breathing fell ragged, and he was left with a hitch in his throat. his forehead fell against hers and already she could feel the beads of sweat lining it as his eyes fluttered open and shut in a repeat cycle.

“oh, you’re so tight,” he groaned, lips nipping at her chin before coming to lock around hers, “so warm.”

she nodded, too caught up in the feeling of it all to even speak. she let her legs drop, her feet turning inwards and her knees poking out to the sides, leaving the angle wider so pierre could hit deeper.

she wrapped a hand around the back of his neck and arched up her back, “oh my… oh…” was all she said, small moans tumbling from her lips in sweet moments of bliss.

“you are so beautiful,” he whispered, admiring the way her eyes rolled back as he outstretched one of her legs, “do you know that?”

“mhm,” was all she could say, a blush creeping it’s way up her cheeks.

pierre changed his angle slightly and soon enough his pace quickened, leaving Y/N on the brink of her third orgasm. it wouldn’t be long, and she knew it wouldn’t be long before she was moaning and clenching around him as if her life depended on it; pierre probably knew too, but he wanted to watch her unfold while he fucked her.

his lips found her neck, sucking on the soft flesh until a red mark blossomed. Y/N couldn’t hold herself back. “pierre, i’m gonna cum,” she fought back a cry as her back arched again. he fucked her through the orgasm, lips finding hers as she moaned and cried into his mouth to muffle the sound.

her orgasm left him teetering on the edge, but he knew better than to allow himself to cum inside her when there was no barrier between them, and so, he pulled out. Y/N poured at the lack of fullness inside of her, but she soon got onto her shaking hands and knees to help pierre out.

he laid flat down on the bed, head almost dangling off the edge, while she situated herself between his legs. hers were awfully shaky, and she knew she needed to hold onto him for stability while she got him off. he didn’t mind.

her lips wrapped around his head instinctively, and she used her free hand for what she couldn’t fit in her mouth. pierre desperately tried to fight off moans and groans, allowing the odd one to slip through his lips as he stroked at her hair.

she was better than he had remembered her to be, but after that long apart he should’ve expected it to be better. Y/N’s head bobbed and her tongue twirled and flicked at his head, until pierre could feel the knot in his stomach.

he sat up, arising to his knees while she made sure to stay level with his cock, tongue splayed out underneath it. his hand tugged at the flesh until he came, hot white cum spraying over her face.

he came with a groan, allowing himself to enjoy the moment as much as he could while it lasted.

he helped Y/N clean her face with paper towels, and when the pair were done, she lay down with her head in the pillows while he stayed in a sitting position.

“this was nice,” she hummed, “amazing, actually.”

“i know it was babe,” he kissed her cheek, pushing the hair from her face. he paused momentarily to check the time on the clock behind Y/N on her bedside table; 3:04. “i should really get going.”

Y/N’s eyes trailed to the clock where she checked the time too, and her hand outstretched into pierre’s. “no, it’s late,” she smiled softly, “please, stay.”

“right,” he nodded, half expecting her to shun him out at the first chance she got. “i’ll go and get some blankets, sleep on the floor.”

“no,” she said, grabbing his hand again. “you can sleep in here — in bed, i mean — with me, if you want.”

pierre smiled.

“sure.”

#pierre gasly #pierre gasly smut #pierre gasly fluff #pierre gasly x you #pierre gasly fanfic #pierre gasly one shot #pierre gasly blurb #pierre gasly x y/n #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly x oc #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 smut #f1 fluff #f1 one shot #f1 fanfic #emi’s christmas masterlist

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