#then cut mirrors to match the butterflies | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

httpwintersoldier · 9 months

Text

『 do it for me, doll. pt.3 || bucky barnes x reader 』

pairing: pornstar!Bucky x f!reader words: medium summary: when life gets hard after the Avenger's disbandment Bucky has to find a new occupation, and you find it too.

『 part 1 』『 part 2 』

Getting on the plane to New York had your legs jittery and butterflies in your stomach. You couldn't stop smiling, you felt like a teenage girl giggling about your crush. Except it was just about the opposite.

Your coworkers found it odd, that you were so happy and couldn't wait for a work related trip, but they just guessed you enjoyed travelling. Little did they know, company awaited you on the other side.

You'd only meet Bucky on your third day in New York, since you were busy the other two days, but you might as well have met him outside of the airport, because your mind was clouded with thoughts of him and what you'd do when you first saw each other. Your body felt like it was burning in every place you wanted him to touch you.

You hurried to call a cab, and once you were in the hotel you didn't bother to unpack or get comfortable, you just grabbed your phone to text Bucky (whom had obviously given you his number since scheduling a meetup via livestream chat was not ideal or practical).

You: I'm in NYC 😎

Bucky: you sure we can't see each other like... now? I want you so bad

(Picture attached)

The picture was of him, lying on his bed, wearing nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants, that were riding dangerously low on his waist.

You bit your lip, and for a second considered ditching your professional responsibilities for a good great fuck. But eventually decided against it.

You: Sorry Sergeant, duty calls, I'll see you the day after tomorrow

Bucky: you know I'll punish you for making me wait, right?

You: I do... and I can't wait.

You had no idea where your recent surge of confidence had come from (you suspected it was from all of Bucky's compliments and encouragement), but this new you was capable of saying just about anything that went through your mind.

To say you were unproductive and absolutely useless during your meetings was the understatement of the century. You were so distracted, excited and giddy by the thought of Bucky that you ended up contributing nothing to the work you were actually supposed to do. Your coworkers, however (bless them) just pinned it in nervousness for being in front of the higher-ups and covered for you.

When the day came you felt all sorts of emotions and skipped all of the coffees you'd usually have throughout the day as the added caffeine would only make it worse. A lot worse.

The workday itself was light, you only worked during the morning since your employers had meetings in the afternoon.

Come 1PM, you ate hurriedly and started to get ready, as if 6 hours wasn't enough time. You showered, did your hair and makeup (nice and heavy on the mascara so he'd have enough to mess up), lathered yourself in the nicest vanilla body lotion you had ever smelled, and got dressed.

You went all out for the meetup, even going as far as buying new lingerie for the occasion, but the man deserved it, he was cooking you dinner and serving all types of meat after all.

The set you purchased was baby pink. It was a hard cup lacy bra, that pushed up your tits in a beautiful way, with a small ribbon in between the cups. The panties were matching the top, and the back had a cut-out heart giving a perfect view of your ass. The set wouldn't be complete without the matching garter belt that connected to a sheer, white pair of tights.

You looked like a dream.

You put on a fancy outfit and gave yourself one last look in the mirror, touching up your makeup and hair, before texting Bucky.

You: I'm ready, will you make me wait till the time comes as a punishment?

Bucky: making you wait to come over would only be a punishment to me. Come one over.

Bucky shared his location.

You giggled and called an Uber to his location, sending a picture as soon as you got in the car to let him know you were on your way.

Bucky was just as giddy and nervous as you were, and he didn't know how long he'd be able to keep his hands off of you. Despite what might've been a popular belief, he didn't fuck a lot, he just happened to undress on camera.

About 15 minutes went by and Bucky was just adding the finishing touches to the dinner table when he heard your footsteps approach the door.

Ding dong.

You both took a deep breath, and the door opened.

"Y/N! Hi!"

Mesmerizing. That was the only way to describe Bucky Barnes. He smiled at you as if you weren't both thinking of the sinful things you were to do to each other.

"Nice to finally see you in person!" You said, greeting him with a hug.

He guided you inside his house - it was very minimalist, nothing but the absolutely necessary inside.

"I'm not big on decorations." Bucky said with a chuckle, as he saw you look around "But I do have beautiful chains hanging on my bedroom walls." He whispered in your ear, as an arm sneaked around your figure.

You shivered, looking over your shoulder at the man that was standing dangerously close to you. Your lips missed each other by mere milimeters, and the sexual tension was clearly palpable.

Bucky brushed his lips over yours for a split second, before completely pulling away and taking you to the kitchen. What a tease.

Bucky was a true gentleman, pulled directly from those 1940's stereotypes. He pulled out the chair for you and served your food and the champagne he had prepared.

"I hope you like it. If you don't there's a great chinese place nearby." He half-joked, since he was actually a little scared you wouldn't like the meal.

But his worries washed away when he saw your face as you took the first bite of the meal.

"Wow! This is amazing!" You complimented.

You saw his cheeks go a little red at the compliment and he smiled widely.

"Yeah? Thank you."

You'd think all of the compliments he got during streams would've made him more used to hearing them, but he still got very shy.

"Hopefully it won't be the best thing of the night..." You said suggestively, sending a wink his way.

Bucky's face instantly changed, into a look of lust and desire.

"Oh princess, this is nothing compared to what I have prepared." He winked at you, bringing the champagne glass to his lips.

The conversation flowed naturally during the dinner, which was a relief. Both of you had a secret worry in the back of your minds that you'd have no chemistry aside from the sexual attraction, but as time passed the worry faded completely.

When dinner was done, Bucky took a hold of your hand and guided you to his living room, bringing the champagne along with you. You sat down on the couch.

"You know Bucky, I'm surprised..."

Bucky rose an eyebrow at you.

"Hm? Surprised?"

"Yes," you paused, trailing your hand up his thigh "after the stunt you pulled when I came in the door I didn't think you'd last this long without doing... something."

Bucky's bionic arm gripped your wrist, just as your hand was getting to his crotch.

"Oh princess you have no idea how much I've been holding back."

The Soldier pulled you a little closer as he said that.

"Why hold back?" You whispered, as he was just so close.

"Because if I don't I won't be able to hold, back." Bucky responded, one of his hands making it's way to your cheek.

"Then don't hold back."

Those words were almost like a command for Bucky. He borught your face closer to his and kissed you, Your lips fit perfectly together, and all you both could think was "finally".

There was need and desperation in the kiss, and it was as if you were afraid to let go, as if you'd falter if you pulled away.

Bucky's vibranium arm wrapped around your figure, and brought you to his lap. His hips rolled up agains yours, as his tongue entered your mouth once more and his hands gripped your ass - you felt pleasantly overwhelmed, your mind had no idea what to focus on.

You could feel his boner against your core, and moaned at the feeling.

Bucky's hands settled on your ass and he stood up, taking you to what you assumed was his bedroom. He then laid you on the bed, standing up for a second to take of his shirt and pants.

As he worked on his clothes, you worked on yours. You removed your top and undid your zipper, so Bucky could pull down your pants and dispose of them. After he did so, he stood back, admiring your body in the pretty lingerie.

He smirked, chuckled and brushed back his semi-long hair, before climbing on top of you and pampering your chest and neck with sloppy kisses.

"You'll be the fucking death of me, doll." Bucky told you, snapping the waistband of your panties against the skin of your hip.

Your hand tangled on his hair as he marked your skin, while his hand sneaked inside your pretty underwear to find your clit.

"Oh Bucky- fuck."

The man kissed your neck, then your jaw and then your cheek.

"You sound even more beautiful in person." He said, before catching your lips in a quick kiss.

Bucky wanted to grab that pretty bra of yours and rip it out, but it was far too pretty, so his hand reached around your back and unclasped it, then peeling it off your body.

"Shit..." He groaned under his breath.

The man's lips attached to one of your nipples, as the other hand sneakily pushed your panties to the side, so he could enter you.

"This wet? Just for me? Wow I must be really good." Bucky joked, biting your breast and then kissing down your stomach.

"May... Maybe." You said, unable to sneak in a snarky reply when his tongue met your clit.

Bucky was holding your waist down with his free hand, as you couldn't help but writhe under his touch.

"Shit if you keep that up I'm not gonna last long." You said, between moans and whines.

"Then don't last long. Cum on my tongue doll, I wanna see how pretty you look up close."

Bucky curled his fingers inside of you and uncurled, picking up the pace he fingered you it. Soon after you were cumming with a loud cry of incoherent words that were meant to be "fuck Bucky, you're so good".

When your breath was steady, he came up to kiss you, and you could taste yourself on his tongue. Hot.

In a sudden act of bravery, you wrapped your legs around his waist and flipped you over, then kneeling in between his legs.

"What are we doing now doll?" He asked, with a look of amusement on his face.

You hooked your finger on the waistband of his tight boxers and pulled them down, letting his erection spring free. His cock did look bigger in person.

"Repaying the favour."

Before he could reply, you licked a strip along his shaft, before sucking his tip. You bobbed your head up and down his shaft, slowly taking more and more of him.

"Oh... fuck." He groaned and made a makeshift ponytail out of your hair, so he could watch the way his cock disappeared in your mouth.

Your hand added to the movement, and when you looked up, your teary eyes meeting his, he nearly came in your mouth.

"That's it." Bucky said, before tugging on your hair and pulling your mouth away from his cock.

Before you could register what was happening, Bucky had you on the bed with your ass up and face in the matress. He took your wrists and held them together behind your back.

Soon after, his tip found your entrance and he slipped in slowly, taking in the moment he finally got to fill you.

"Oh fuck, you feel so good doll." His compliment almost went unheard, as you were too focused on how good it felt to have him fuck you.

His hand spanked your ass and then grabbed it, loving the way it bounced when he fucked you.

As Bucky picked up the pace, your moans became more frequent and louder, making it insanely hard for him not to cum.

"Fuck it." He said, and paused, before flipping you around and entering you again "I wanna see your pretty little face when you cum on my cock, you're going to look so beautiful, all fucked out for me."

His hand wrapped around your throat as he said those words, and you swore your vision went blurry with pleasure.

"You f-feel so good Bucky- shit! Fuck!" You screamed, as he seemed to go deeper and deeper with each thrust.

It wasn't long before pleasure-filled tears streamed down your face, and your hands gripped the sheets. Your climax hit you harder than any before, and you cried out the man's name.

Bucky didn't even get time to ride out your orgasm, he simpy pulled out and came on you. All over your stomach and tits.

The man fell beside you on the bed, as you both tried to regain your breaths. After a couple seconds, you looked at each other, instantly feeling shy as if you hadn't fucked the shit out of each other.

You noticed the way his eyes drifted to your neck, and you softly ran your fingers across it.

"I'm going to have to wear a scarf tomorrow, aren't I?"

Bucky smiled and laughed.

"That would probably be best, yes." He joked, meeting your eyes.

Bucky wrapped his arm around you and pulled you close to his side, not caring if his cum stuck between your bodies, and lifted your chin up to kiss you.

"Join me. Let's film this, at least once. Please?"

"I'll think about it."

[TAGLIST]

@strndedonmars ; @geeky-politics-46 ; @high-functioning-lokipath ; @erinallene ; @yvessaintmuerte ; @kandis-mom ; @cjand10 ; @sadboiabby ; @sebastians-love ; @princezzjasmine ; @witchywonderlandchaos ; @buckysfirstbitch ; @itjustkindahappenedreally ; @strndedonmars ; @florencediet ; @mdrovert ; @barnescamboy ; @winters1917 ; @yvessaintmuerte ; @pattiemac1 ;

527 notes · View notes

witchmaximoff · 2 months

Text

Unspoken Heart

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x F!Reader (Platonic) Wanda Maximoff x Vision

Summary: Where Y/N grapples with unrequited feelings for her friend Wanda. Despite her love being unreciprocated, Y/N selflessly prioritizes Wanda's happiness, willing to make sacrifices to ensure her well-being.

Warnings: Unrequited love, friendzone, angst, death, no happy ending.

Word count: 1097

NOTE: This is my first time writing something so I wanted to try, but English isn't my first language. I apologize for any mistakes. Please give me some feedback, it might encourage me to do more if you like it 🌹

Suddenly, the bell above the door chimes, and in walks Wanda Maximoff, her presence commanding attention even in a crowded room. Your heart skips a beat as she spots you and makes her way over, a warm smile gracing her lips.

You find yourself in the bustling city of New York, where the chaos of everyday life seems to fade away as you step into a quaint little cafe. Sitting alone at a table near the window, you watch the rain drizzle down outside, lost in your thoughts.

"Hey, Y/N," she greets you, pulling out a chair and sitting across from you. "Mind if I join you?" You nod eagerly, trying to contain the butterflies in your stomach as she settles in. The two of you have been friends for years, but lately, your feelings for Wanda have been anything but platonic.

As you chat about mundane things, you can't help but steal glances at her, admiring the way the soft light of the cafe accentuates her features. But deep down, you know that she only sees you as a friend, nothing more.

The conversation turns to deeper topics, and you find yourself opening up to Wanda about your hopes, your dreams, and your fears. She listens intently, her empathy and understanding washing over you like a warm embrace.

But as the night wears on and the cafe begins to empty out, a heavy silence settles between you. You can feel the weight of your unspoken words hanging in the air, the truth of your unrequited love threatening to spill out.

Finally, unable to bear it any longer, you gather your courage and speak up, your voice barely above a whisper. "Wanda, there's something I need to tell you..."

But before you can finish, Wanda reaches across the table and gently places her hand on yours, her touch sending shivers down your spine. "Y/N," she says softly, her eyes searching yours, "I cherish our friendship more than anything. You mean the world to me."

Your heart sinks at her words, the sting of rejection cutting deep. You force a smile, masking the pain behind it as you nod, pretending that her friendship is enough.

But as you watch her leave the cafe, the rain still falling outside, you can't help but wonder what could have been if only she felt the same way.

As you step out into the rain-soaked streets, the cool droplets patter against your skin, mirroring the tumultuous emotions swirling within you. Each raindrop feels like a tiny reminder of the tears you've been holding back, the ache in your chest growing heavier with each step.

The neon lights of the city blur through the mist, casting an eerie glow on the pavement below as you walk aimlessly, lost in your thoughts. The sound of distant thunder echoes in the night, a somber symphony that matches the rhythm of your breaking heart.

You can't help but replay the conversation with Wanda over and over in your mind, each word a painful reminder of the unrequited love that weighs you down. The knowledge that she will never feel the same way gnaws at you, tearing at your soul with relentless persistence.

But as you trudge through the rain-soaked streets, you find solace in the solitude, the emptiness of the night offering a fleeting sense of comfort. You know that admitting your true feelings to Wanda would only lead to heartache, so you choose to keep them locked away, hidden beneath a facade of friendship.

Despite the ache in your chest and the loneliness that threatens to consume you, you cling to the hope that one day, you'll find peace in loving Wanda from afar. For now, all you can do is embrace the rain, letting it wash away the pain as you navigate the stormy seas of unrequited love.

The rain continues to fall, a silent witness to the unspoken heartache that lingers in the air, a poignant reminder of the sacrifices we make in the name of love.

After walking for a long time in the raining streets Y/N go back to the compound, as you enter your clothes clinging to your skin and your hair dripping with rainwater, you feel a sense of exhaustion wash over you. Despite the late hour and the weariness that weighs heavy on your shoulders, you can't shake the feeling of unease that gnaws at your gut.

Dragging yourself towards the kitchen, you hope to find some semblance of comfort in the familiar surroundings of the Avengers' home. But as you approach the entrance, your heart clenches painfully in your chest at the sight that greets you.

There, standing in the warm glow of the kitchen lights, is Wanda, her laughter ringing out like music in the stillness of the night. But it's not her laughter that catches your attention, it's the way she's leaning in close to Vision, their bodies almost touching as they engage in animated conversation.

A pang of jealousy shoots through you like a bolt of lightning, your breath catching in your throat as you watch them interact. The intimacy between them is palpable, a stark contrast to the platonic bond you share with Wanda, and it only serves to deepen the ache in your heart.

For a moment, you're frozen in place, unable to tear your eyes away from the scene unfolding before you. Every word they exchange feels like a dagger to your heart, a painful reminder of the love that will forever be out of reach.

But as the reality of the situation sinks in, you realize that you can't bear to witness their closeness any longer. With a heavy sigh, you turn away, retreating into the shadows of the compound, your heart heavy with sorrow.

As you make your way to your room, the sound of their laughter echoing in your ears, you can't help but wonder if there will ever come a day when you can look at Wanda and Vision together without feeling the sting of your broken heart.

_______________________________________________

As the Avengers embark on a mission, Y/N finds herself engulfed in a whirlwind of emotions. The weight of their unrequited love for Wanda weighs heavy on their heart, threatening to consume them with each passing second, minute and day.

As the chaos of battle unfolds, Y/N's heart races with a mixture of fear, hurt and desperation. Amidst the chaos of battle, Y/N's thoughts are a jumbled mess, her focus fractured by the relentless barrage of her own inner turmoil. She struggles to keep up with their teammates, her mind constantly drifting back to Wanda and the pain that her presence brings.

In a moment she watches in horror as Vision, the object of Wanda's affections, finds himself in mortal peril. Despite the agony of her rejected love for Wanda, a fierce determination takes hold of Y/N as she rushes to his aid.

Ignoring the danger that surrounds her, Y/N throws herself into the fray, determined to shield Vision from harm at any cost. With every blow she takes, her love for Wanda burns bright in her heart, driving her forward with an intensity she never knew she possessed.

But as the battle reaches its climax, Y/N finds herself facing down an enemy she cannot defeat. With a sense of grim resignation, she gets ready to make the ultimate sacrifice, knowing that it may be the only way to save Vision and the rest of the team.

In a moment of selfless bravery, Y/N throws herself in front of Vision, taking the full force of the enemy's attack. Pain courses through her body like fire, but amidst the agony, she feels a sense of peace knowing that she has protected the one Wanda loves most.

As Y/N lie on the ground, her strength fading with each passing moment, she hears Wanda's anguished cries as she rushes to Y/N's side. Tears blur your vision as you look up at her, your voice barely a whisper as you speak the words that have been weighing heavy on your heart.

"You love him, don't you?" you say, your voice filled with a mixture of sadness and resignation. "I'll do everything to make you happy even if it means giving my life for the person you love, even if that person isn't me"

As Y/N lies in Wanda's arms, their strength waning with each passing moment, she can feel the weight of Wanda's guilt pressing down on her like a leaden blanket. Through the haze of pain and exhaustion, she can see the torment etched on Wanda's face, the anguish in her eyes mirroring the turmoil of her soul.

"Why did you do this?" Wanda whispers, her voice trembling with emotion. "Why would you sacrifice yourself for me, for him?"

Y/N's smile is bittersweet as she gaze up at Wanda, her heart heavy with the knowledge of the pain they have caused. "Because I love you," you reply softly, your words a whispered confession borne of a love that knows no bounds.

Wanda's breath catches in her throat at the sincerity in your voice, her heart breaking anew at the realization of the depth of their feelings. She cradles you closer to her chest, her fingers trembling as she brushes away the tears that stain your cheeks.

"But why?" she whispers, her voice choked with tears. "Why would you give up everything for someone who can never love you back?"

Your smile falters for a moment as you struggle to find the words to explain the unexplainable. But then, as you feel the physical pain of your sacrifice gnawing at your body, you feel the relief of your emotional pain fill your broken heart.

"Because," you whisper, your voice barely a whisper against the backdrop of chaos and despair. "Because for just a moment, I could be the hero you needed, even if it meant sacrificing everything I had."

And with those final words, Y/N's smile fades, her eyes fluttering closed as she surrender to the darkness that threatens to consume her. But even as she slips away, she feels a sense of peace, knowing that she has finally found release from the burden of the unrequited love that has haunted her for so long.

And as Wanda holds you close, her heart heavy with grief and regret, she knows that she will carry the weight of Y/N's sacrifice with her for the rest of her days, a constant reminder of the love that was given so freely, even in the face of impossible odds.

#wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda x you #wandavision #wanda maxmoff x y/n #wanda marvel #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #unrequited love #angst #angst with a sad ending #angst with no happy ending #wanda x vision #wanda maxmoff x female reader #marvel mcu #wanda mcu #wanda x y/n

169 notes · View notes

ecoamerica · 14 days

Text

youtube

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

2K notes · View notes

author-morgan · 3 months

Text

Title: Daylight Rating: M Pairing: Arthur x fem!Reader Summary: Arthur always knew you and he would make a fine match. ...hiding all of our sins from the daylight... I've now collected all(?) your husbands for my infinity gauntlets. a late merry christmas and an early valentines for you boo. @mrsragnarlodbrok.

“SORRY,” ARTHUR MUTTERS, “hands are rough.” He noticed how you pulled away from his calloused touch as he pressed the stained damp cloth against the bloody wound on the back of your shoulder—remnants of an arrow after Bedivere and the Mage helped him dig out the bodkin point. It’d likely been meant for him in the heat of the battle and he cursed himself seeing you fall nigh feet from him, pulled away to shelter by his kingsguard. Even with the power of Excalibur, he’d been unable to protect you—an age-old promise broken.

You lift your gaze from the charred stone floor, looking at your reflections in a fogged-over mirror on the opposite side of the room. Focus has his brows furrowed and lips pressed into a thin line. “You always say that,” you tell him, words slurred from the pain, exhaustion, and strongwine, and voice rougher than normal. This isn’t the first time Arthur Pendragon has tended your hurts and woes, and at this rate you doubt it’ll be the last.

Dried blood and sweat washed away, Arthur picks up the piece of tree bark with a salve prepared by the Mage to stave off the pain for a while and keep the wound from festering. Then, Arthur binds the wound with fresh linen and wipes his hands, kneeling in front of you—hands resting on your hips. You lay your hand on his cheek, thumb sweeping across his cheek, marred with dirt and soot. Leaning toward him, he meets you halfway, and you set your lips on his—a soft, fleeting kiss like the touch of butterfly wings.

“Thank you, Arthur,” you tell him, fingertips mindlessly combing through the scruff on his jaw. He straightens to full height but does so with a grimace. “You’re sure you’re not hurt?” You ask again.

“Just bruises,” he assures you, and this time, it seems like he’s being truthful, besides the few scratches on his hands and the slim, already scabbed-over, cut on his forehead.

Arthur sits next to you on the edge of the bed, looking toward the open balcony. You both can hear the joyous shouts and chants. Bedivere and the others will only be able to satiate the men for so long. They will want to hear from the one who led them to victory. From the Born King. “They’ll be waiting for you to give a speech,” you tell him.

“They’re waiting to go headfirst into the barrels of grog,” he amends, but if the out-of-tune songs are anything to go off of...

“Sounds like they already have,” you laugh. Tonight, there will be revelries for the victory against Vortigern and his forces. In the following days, there’ll be feasts to honor the fallen and growing lists of preparations for a coronation. But right now, Arthur Pendragon doesn’t want to be a king just yet. Right now, he’s content just to be Arthur the street rat, especially when you lean your head against his shoulder and link your fingers through his—and then he’s certain there’s no one else in all of England for him except you.

“HIDING FROM ME? Or everyone else?” Your head quickly swivels to the side, only to relax at the sight of Arthur approaching. You cannot help but wonder how he isn’t cold. He's not dressed anywhere near as layered or warm as he should be for the winter evening, but somehow, he manages to look cozy even in just a scarlet linen-and-wool doublet. Stepping back, your eyes flit up to the scarlet-tinged leaves, still clinging to the branches of the white-bark birch, before looking beyond to the fresh falling snow.

He stops at your side and looks up, too. “Was just thinking about what a bad influence you’ve been on my person,” you tell him, a small half-smirk creeping onto your features. Arthur tilts his head back in amused question, then stares up at the leaves and the silver sliver of the moon peeking through the winter clouds. “As I recall, I was an innocent girl before you came along and ruined all that.”

His blue eyes narrow, arms crossing over his chest. “You’ll have to refresh my memory on how I did that, darlin’.” He moves a little closer, and you sense his ploy, twisting and ducking when he moves to grab you.

You face him with brows raised, smiling. “Such a brute,” you taunt, “grabbing at innocent girls in the castle courtyards at night. Is that any way for the King of England to behave?”

Arthur only rolls his eyes, trying to smother another smirk, and this time, he catches your arm as you move around him. It takes little strength to move you how he wants—pressing you into the trunk of the great tree at the heart of the courtyard. His hands press against the smooth bark beside your head as he leans in enough to look down at you. The glint in his eyes is mirthful, but there’s something else shining in his gaze too—you’ve seen that look a dozen times now, and you’re almost afeared to think about what it can mean. “Maybe you have a point,” he drawls, wearing that crooked, boyish grin that makes your heart flutter.

Your laugh almost catches him off guard. His hand slips down to run gently along your waist, the other toys with the hair at the side of your head. You lean back into the tree more, relaxing as your hands find his waist to rest on. “My father sends his kind, innocent daughter to study in Londinium, and what does this strong, noble boy do?” Arthur raises his brow. “He shoves her against a wall in an alleyway because he has no reasonable way of expressing his feelings with words.” He was just a street rat orphan and you were the daughter of some fancy lord from far away—opposites in nigh every way but more alike than you ever could have imagined. “I was never the same after that.”

His head dips down into the crook of your neck, nose training across your throat and inhaling the scent of roses and lavender. “No,” he smiles, voice low—more of a muttering husk—lips twitching as he pulls back, glancing to your lips and up, “but you’re more fun now.” Your expression falls flat, and Arthur laughs. It’s nigh impossible not to grin or melt at the sound and how little it seems you’ve heard it of late—and by Merlin’s beard, he’s impossibly handsome with laugh lines crinkling the edges of his eyes and a lopsided smile. Leaning further into him, his breath dances across your cheek, the back of his fingers brushing along your neck.

You exhale shakily, and Arthur teases you again with light presses of his lips along your jaw and neck—hands smoothing up and down your waist as he does. For a moment, your hands find their way to his chest before you remember how open the courtyard is and that anyone can happen upon the two of you like this. Glancing around, you breathe his name in a flustered whisper, hand pressing against his chest—the last thing a new king needs is rumors to turn into scandal.

Arthur takes a step back, giving you both room, but then there’s a new glint in his eyes. The playful mirth disappears from his cornflower eyes, replaced by something more serious—kingly, even. It’s something he’s been thinking about for years. Maybe even since the two of you first met by happenstance in the streets of Londinium and struck up an odd friendship. But over the years, Arthur thinks he cannot just call you a friend, not anymore. What he feels runs deeper than that, and given his newfound title and responsibilities...“I’ve been thinking,” he starts.

“And does it pay well?” You quip in a poor attempt to lighten the now solemn mood.

He rolls his eyes, exasperated, unable to hide how his lips quirk upwards. “Would you let me finish?” And so you do, unsure what he must say or ask that warrants such a dramatic change in his usual demeanor. Arthur reaches for your hand, the rough pads of his fingers curling around and into your palm. He stoops forward, lips brushing against your knuckles—reverent. “I’d like you to stay,” he breathes, straightening back to full height. Your brows furrow. “Here,” he adds, “with me.”

You know what he is asking of you—marriage—and it should be an easy answer. Yes, of course. You’ve loved Arthur since before you knew what the word truly meant. But given the events of the last few months and the precipitousness of his proposal, you’re left speechless, heart beating in your throat until all you can do is run to the haven of your chambers with tears pricking your eyes.

A LOUD KNOCK on the great wooden door echoes in your bedchambers. You rouse from sleep, righting the oversized tunic hanging off one shoulder in an attempt to appear decent at the late hour. Part of you already knows who will be waiting on the other side, but when you crack open the door, it still surprises you to find him standing before you—wearing only a loose, nigh threadbare tunic and pair of dark britches. “Arthur,” you greet, rubbing the sleep from your eyes before motioning for him to come in.

There’s still an uneasy air between you after the earlier events and conversation in the courtyard—his proposal. “I shouldn’t’ve….” he starts as you do. “I should not...” You both fall silent, eyes searching the other’s face for an indication of who will be the first to speak, the first to act, but there’s only silence.

“Yes,” you quickly tell him—the shock of his initial proposal has faded, and now you’ve never been more certain about something in your life. You still can’t say what it is that caused you to react in such a way—Arthur’s the only man you’ve ever loved, the only person you could have ever thought of having a life with, even before all this Born King shite. The answer is ‘yes.’ It had always been.

“Yes?” He repeats with furrowed brows, not sure he’s heard you correctly. “I’ll stay” —you reach to comb your fingers through his close-shorn beard, and he leans into the touch— “with you.” Forever.

He smiles, and it’s as though a great weight has been lifted from his shoulders. Arthur cradles your face in his hands, thumbs running over your cheekbones. You smile for him, and he leans toward you, closing the distance. His lips are on yours in an instant.

You answer his kiss, slowly at first, then with more fervor when you settle your hands on either side of his neck, drawing yourself closer. Parting, you press your forehead against his and meet his heated stare. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited to hear you say that?” Arthur asks, breathless.

Then he’s kissing you again and again—hands straying to your waist and backside, pulling you closer, tighter. And it fans the embers burning low in your belly to flames. Arthur breaks the kiss with an anguished groan—fighting a losing war with himself. He brushes back the hair falling in front of your face, the rough pad of his thumb running over your lips. “Tell me to stop,” he mutters—it’s almost a plea. And then he’s adrift in your soft and dark gaze, knowing if you do nothing to stop this, he’ll be acting on countless years of love and pent-up desire.

“No,” you breathe, catching his wrist and sliding his hand up from your neck—peppering his fingertips with gentle kisses. He watches you, lips parted and heart aching. Closing your eyes, you draw in a slow breath, and with a final kiss to his palm, you guide his hand to rest on one of your clothed breasts.

“Arthur.” You speak his name as though it is a quiet prayer. “I want you.” He pulls on the string at the neck of your nightshirt, loosening it until the gauzy material falls off your shoulders—puddling around your ankles,

Though bare, you still hold his clear blue gaze. He goes silent as he draws in a sharp breath—eyes dart over the length of your body. His eyes darken, though, a mix of lust and adoration. “Think this is the longest you’ve been qui–” He cuts you off with a kiss, and one of his hands rises to cradle your cheek—the side of your neck again—and his lips coax yours open.

You sigh into his mouth, hands instinctively dipping under the hem of his roughspun tunic, fingertips trailing over the taut muscles of his abdomen and the scar on his ribs. Arthur breaks the kiss, quickly shrugging off his shirt, and lets the undyed piece of wool fall to the floor.

Then, suddenly, he lifts you off your feet effortlessly. You hastily grip his shoulders for balance until he lays you on the bed—standing back to take off his trousers, and you watch him with a weird mixture of hunger and wistfulness as he strips. Arthur kicks aside his discarded clothes, then crawls onto the bed, making room for himself between your thighs—his clear and cold gaze burning with the warmth of the Sun and never once straying from yours.

You gaze tensely at his face as he studies you. His expression is greedy and appreciative, and the firelight glowing in his eyes just makes him look all the more ardent, and the longer he stares at you without doing anything, the more restless you are for him to act. You want his touch, his cock, his lips on yours, and all he’s giving you is this appreciative greedy stare, and it’s not enough.

Arthur kisses you again, and then he leans away from your lips and kisses the angle of your jaw. His mouth travels to the side of your neck, and your pulse flutters in your throat. His lips are surprisingly soft, and as his mouth trails from your neck to your collarbone, the delicacy of his kisses makes you feel lightheaded —a mix of pleasure and disbelief.

He nuzzles your collarbone, then places a kiss just above the swell of your breast, and you arch helplessly toward his mouth. The heat of his breath wafting over your breast, making your nipples go taut with anticipation, and when the scruff of Arthur’s beard brushes over your nipple, you jolt and make a helpless little mewling sound. You twine your fingers into his golden hair, trying to hold him in place against you. But Arthur shoots you a quick smile, then shuffles lower on the bed still and kisses your breast —and you twist your hips, hands slipping from his hair to his shoulders.

A sob leaves your throat—not a crying kind of sob, but an instinctive noise tore from your throat without your permission. He lifts his mouth from your breast and smiles at you, and you stare stupidly at his handsome face—the spark in his clear eyes and the boyish smirk twisting his lips.

Arthur palms your breast and squeezes gently. He shuffles lower still on the bed and places a sweet, open-mouthed kiss on your navel, and your sense of surreal disbelief ratchets to a nearly unbearable degree. His mouth drifts lower now, the scruff of his beard tickling your belly as he presses his lips to the skin below your navel and eases your thighs further apart.

Arthur places a kiss between your legs, and your mind goes blank with pleasure.

“You alright, darlin’?” He smirks. You stare at him, too stunned by pleasure to find a clever response. Instead, riled by the teasing sparkle in his face, you spread your knees wide. His gaze drops between your legs, and his expression darkens with interest as he places his hands on your knees—stroking up to your thighs. He places another firm, wet kiss between your legs, and a helpless moan leaves your lips, and he hums with approval, a smug, half-growly little hum.

You gasp in a breath, realizing you haven’t been breathing at all. Arthur lifts his head to look you in the eye. “Relax, love,” he croons, smoothing his palm over your belly as he laps at your cunt with slow hot sweeping strokes of his tongue. It’s not long before a finger presses into you, working you slowly open.

Your hips jerk softly along with his movements, and there’s unspoken interest in his gaze as he stares down at you, relentless in his efforts to see you come undone. His tongue and lips are at your clit, fingers stroking and curling deep within you. You jolt, and then he moves slower, dragging over the sensitive spots he’s discovered inside you and leaving your nerves tingling with every touch.

Pleasure washes over you in waves, making your calves twitch, your fingertips feel numb, and that high-pitched mewling noise leaves your throat. Overwhelmed—enraptured—you buck your hips toward his face and clench your fingers convulsively in his hair, and he keeps licking and kissing you until you can’t take it anymore. You pull on his hair to stop him, and he finally pulls away, lips glistening in the moonlight and fading glow of the firelight. “Enough,” you groan. “Need you.” It’s nigh a broken plea.

You shudder as he moves, situating himself between your thighs, calloused fingers dipping into your cunt to gather your slick and spread on his hard cock as he strokes himself. “Arthur, please,” you whimper, impatient, and he won’t keep you waiting.

He slides his cock through your folds before his angle changes just slightly, and on the next pass, your breath stutters as his cockhead presses just inside you—barely splitting you open. Arthur’s hand grabs your hip and angles you up just a bit so he can slide deeper inside you, and you cling onto his biceps—feeling his scars press into your palms and admiring the way his muscles flex under your touch.

Arthur hisses through his teeth when he fully seats himself inside your warmth, then releases his breath slowly and smiles at you. “You’re lovely,” he murmurs, twining his fingers through yours, pressing the back of your hands into the mattress. From the moment Arthur first saw you in the Londinium streets, he knew your fates were intertwined—just as your bodies and hands were now. He trembles at this personal heaven, then draws his hips back, starting to move.

You laugh breathlessly, mindlessly. “Charmer,” you pant, hooking your legs around his waist. You roll into his thrusts, pulling him deeper. His ragged breaths and grunts mingle with your sighs of pleasure—panting scarcely keeping up with your racing heart.

He huffs in amusement. “Can’t say that’s something I get called often,” Arthur says as he pumps his hips slowly, teasing you and pleasing you almost more than you can bear. Then he lowers his lips to yours in a kiss—there’s something sweet on his tongue, like honey wine.

His whole body begins moving, surging, and writhing against yours. One of his hands releases yours and caresses your cheek before he slides it down your body. Without thought, your body arches into his hand as it moves, ripening under his touch—thoughts clouded by lust and love. His fingers find your clit at the same time his mouth latches to your neck.

Another guttural cry bursts from your lips. He’s pounding into you now, and he’s still holding your hand while his other grips your hip. Your breathing is loud, and so is his, and his hand is tightening on your fingers. He drags in a breath, then expels it in a strained groan.

He shudders, then pounds into you hard, twice, thrice, and then he pauses with his cock deep inside of you. His jaw clenches, and his grip on your hip is so tight that it’s almost painful, but you like it—just as much as you like the guttural sound he makes as he shudders in completion. A few long seconds later, he gasps in a breath, then sighs and releases your hand. “Fuck,” he groans, holding his weight above you on shaking arms.

You beckon him to lie atop you, his golden head pillowed on your breasts as his breathing steadies, sighing when you kiss his hair and whisper a quiet, I love you, for him to relish. He stays sheathed inside your warmth, unwilling to part just yet. “I love you,” he murmurs in turn, never tiring of how you smile when he says the words. Sighing, he rolls to the side, and you whine at the loss of him and the empty feeling between your thighs.

He lays on his side, and you pillow your head on his outstretched arm, nuzzling close against his chest and threading one of your legs through his. Arthur presses his cheek to the crown of your head and strokes your hair as the first dregs of daylight break over the horizon, shining upon England, Camelot, and his future wife and queen.

[Forever taglist: @certifiedlittleshit / @erzsebetrosztoczy / @hereforreadandwrite / @mrsragnarlodbrok / @rigshak ] if your name is italicized, tumblr would not let me tag you. if you’d like to be added to my forever taglist, or any other character/fandom taglist, just let me know with this Google Form!

#King Arthur #King Arthur x Reader #Arthur Pendragon #King Arthur Legend of the Sword #King Arthur: Legend of the Sword #Charlie Hunnam #Charlie Hunnam Fanfiction #Charlie Hunnam Fanfic #my writing #wow i havent written and posted anything in a while #yet again im blaming you for this claire lol #how about we all petition to get this movie the sequel it deserved #also 10 points if you can spot the rdr2 reference

177 notes · View notes

loquaciousferret · 6 months

Text

Saints and Sinners

Summary: The yearly Halloween rendezvous with your long-term no-strings lover Joel Miller is set to be shaken up when he invites a third- Javi Peña- to your hotel room.

No-outbreak AU | Joel Miller and Javi Peña existing in the same universe AU

Pairings: Javier Peña x f!reader x Joel Miller

Word Count: 5.7k (whoops)

Warnings below the cut | 18+ Only

Content Warnings: MATURE 18+ Disrespect of religion including the Cross. No real physical description of reader other than female anatomy and she can be lifted by or sit on top of both males. Alcohol consumption, sex whilst under the influence, oral both m and f receiving, facesitting, facefucking, unprotected sex with a stranger, consensual voyeurism and exhibitionism, facial, spitting, degradation, pet names, anal play, MMF threesome, a suggestion of but not actual infidelity, discussion of age gap between the sexual partners.

A/N: Hey homies, I’ve come out of retirement for one day only for halloween (It’s also my birthday) this started off just something hot but accidentally turned fluffy and deep towards the end. Consider that my birthday gift to myself. I hope you enjoy!

You analyse your appearance in the mirror for what might be the hundredth time, straightening the garish crystal-covered cross that hangs on a delicate chain from your neck. The base of it just slightly tucks into the cleavage that is spilling from the top of the satin black mini dress. A few strands of hair peak out from the matching black covering on your head, framing your face perfectly. Sexy nun. What a great Halloween costume. Offensive? Probably. But hot? Definitely.

Joel had texted you a few hours previously with the room number for your usual luxury downtown hotel. 308. Surprise inside. The message had read. A man of few words was Joel Miller, but you didn’t mind. Your annual meeting didn’t need much introduction.

You checked the time on your phone and realised you were in a rush. Your scheduled Uber, the chariot that would deliver you to Joel, would be there in half an hour. You quickly grabbed your bottle of wine, still only half finished, and poured yourself another large glass. After all this time, the nervous butterflies that gathered in your stomach prior to seeing him should have faded, but on the contrary, they seem more powerful each passing year.

By the time you had finished off the bottle you were rushing to cover yourself with a long black coat and put your heels on to head out the door. The nerves had barely subsided and the alcohol only served to hinder your balance as you hurried to the car.

You arrived at the hotel, which you hadn’t visited since this time last year. It was a looming black structure that stood out against the rest of the buildings on the street. Once inside the lobby, it was like you were in another dimension altogether. It was dimly lit and strongly scented with candles and diffusers. It was soundproofed well, to the extent that you would never know you had just stepped off of a busy city street. It was familiar and yet mysterious every time you visited. It certainly wasn’t the sleazy motel you would imagine to typically be used for you and Joel’s purposes. You didn’t know how often other people typically visited hotels. They are usually a place of passing. So, after visiting on the same weekend every year for five years, you felt like perhaps you were a regular.

You spoke to the man at the desk who welcomed you with warm eyes and a kind smile. It was the kind of place where the staff always made you feel important. He handed you a wallet made of thick black card with the hotels gold logo embossed on the front.

“The keycard is just inside. Take the elevator to the third floor and you’ll find 8 on your right.” He says. “And I’m here all night, should you need anything at all.”

“Thank you.” You say, and proceed nervously to the elevator. The hand holding the wallet is actually shaking. Pull it together.

The elevator ride to the third floor is over quicker than you would have liked, and suddenly you are stepping out into a dim corridor. The same thick scent that fills the lobby also lingers here. Deep and musky, like oud, and yet fresh at the same time. The whole thing is a sensory experience.

You turn to find 308 and take deep breaths with each stride. You’re about to see him again. With each year that passes, you always worry things will have changed, and yet they never do. He is always the same Joel, the same scent, the same strong frame, the same quirks in his speech. He is something entirely familiar to you, just as you are to him. Two halves of a pair entirely in tune with one another, able to predict each others every word, every movement. He is the one constant you can always rely on. You just know him.

But when you insert the keycard and let yourself into the room, you are staring into the face of someone entirely unfamiliar.

“Uhh- I-“ You began to stutter. There must have been some mistake, but you don’t know what to say. ‘I’m sorry, I think uh- I-”

“Don’t worry.” He said with a smooth Texan accent. “You’re in the right place. You’re Joel’s girl, right?”

Your eyebrows draw together in confusion as you try to piece it together. The question, asked with such casualness as though he already knew it to be true, was so complicated that you could barely wrap your head round it. You weren’t Joel’s girl, not even close. Why did he think that? How does he know Joel?

Once you looked at him properly, you realised that whilst he was younger, this stranger, his resemblance to Joel other than that was striking. He looked more like him than his own brother. The same hooked nose and serious brow bone, but his hair was shorter and straighter, dark brown not yet peppered with grey like Joel’s. And unlike Joel’s scruff of stubble, this man was clean shaven except for a thick moustache.

So this was the surprise. You realised. Where the hell did he find this guy?

“What is this?” You ask. It came out harsher than you expected and you cringed at yourself for being so rude. But this was not part of the arrangement, and you hadn’t prepared yourself. The butterflies in your stomach swelled painfully.

“I don’t know, sweetheart.” He said. “Some kind of Halloween treat I guess.”

“Is it? Seems like more of a trick to me.”

The man chuckled, unphased by your comment. Whatever this was, well, you had a pretty good guess, and whilst you weren’t against it in theory, you were pissed Joel had pulled something like this. But he always had to change the rules and shock you. It was just part of his addictive game.

The man rose from the comfortable chair in which he had been slouched, thighs wide, manspreading and confidently exposing a bulging package inside his tight jeans. He reached for a bucket containing an expensive champagne, popped it open without any fuss and poured two large flutes full. He held one out for you and you took a tentative step towards him.

“I don’t bite.” He said, flashing a toothy grin that made you doubt his statement.

You took it from him anyway, your hand brushing against his large warm one as you clutched the stem. You took a sip and the warm bubbles floated down your chest and into your stomach, heat radiating where it mixed with the white wine from earlier.

Damn this whole situation, you think, and yet you can’t fool yourself into thinking you won’t do exactly what Joel intended you to do with this guy. When he calls, you answer. When he gives, you take. And when he tricks you into meeting a handsome stranger and screwing him, for whatever reason, you oblige just so.

“So, um…”

“Javi.”

“So, Javi.” You say. “What are you supposed to be dressed as?”

“Uhhh…” He hums as if he hadn’t really thought about it. “A cop.” He says eventually.

“Then where’s your uniform?” You challenge.

“Undercover cop I guess.” He shrugs, smirk plastered on his face. “You on the other hand. You went all out, huh?”

“Oh, this old thing?” You say, running your hand up your side from the hem of the dress to your cleavage, which you lean towards him for a better view.

His tongue flicks out across his lower lip. You giggle and lean back to where you had been sitting before, but he reaches an arm out to wrap around your waist and pull you a little closer towards him.

“How do you know him?” You ask. You don’t want to pry, but if you’re going to let him fuck you, you want at least a few details.

“Uhh…” His responses don’t come easily to any of your questions, as if he is consistently just thinking up answers before offering them. “We met at poker.”

“I didn’t know he gambled.” You say.

Javi looks at you with a quizzical expression, like it was obvious. Like Joel and gambling are synonymous and it wouldn’t make sense not to immediately associate them. It stings for some reason.

“Right.” He says, expression still twisted. “So not his girl then, I guess. Then how do you know him.”

But you hum too while you think of your answer, and so you give Javi some slack for his own hesitation.

“Old friends.” You say simply, giving nothing away. “How did this come about though?”

He laughs a little, ducking his head as if unsure whether to be honest. “A bet.”

“A bet?” Your eyes widen and you respond in shock. You’re rightfully offended by the insinuation, but it doesn’t make you angry. If anything, it sends another aching sensation between your legs. “He- He bet me? You won a bet for me?”

He laughs at that, a proper laugh, like the suggestion itself was downright ridiculous, although you are unsure why. You had considered it a pretty sound conclusion. “Actually, no.” He explains. “It was Joel who won the bet.”

Your eyebrows are drawn together in thought and he smirks as he watches you piece what you can together.

“So…” You say, unsure what to think of it all. “So he really wants us to do this?”

“I guess so.” He says, finishing off his champagne. Yours is empty too and he takes the glass from you, heading back to the desk to find the rest of the bottle. “You want another?” He asks.

You shake your head no and he comes and sits down next to you on the bed again.

“Is he… Is he coming? I mean are we supposed to wait or- or- do we have t-“

He cuts you off and puts a comforting hand on your thigh. “Hey, there is no ‘have to’. Whatever you like. I’m a man of the law, darlin’. I won’t make you.” He pauses just for a beat. “Unless that’s what you’re into.”

You flush at the insinuation, looking away from him. Damn your bashful complexion. Damn Joel for this twisted trick. Damn this handsome dude for making it impossible not to throw yourself into his lap and kiss him.

He responds to you immediately, his hands wasting no time feigning respectfulness before attaching to your ass and groping you through the tightly stretched fabric.

You grind into him as he deepens the kiss, one hand leaving your ass to come round and grip your jaw. The thick denim of his jeans stimulates you through the thin barrier of your underwear.

“Dirty girl.” He says as you speed up your movements, grinding yourself against his growing bulge deliberately to pleasure yourself. “That outfit just pretend or somethin’? Where’d ya learn to do that?”

You don’t speak back and you focus on unbuttoning his shirt instead, not breaking the kiss as you work at the buttons. The alcohol has affected your dexterity and eventually he pulls back and starts undoing them himself. You reach for his belt instead, unclasping it and then pulling down the zip on his jeans.

By then his shirt is off, and you take in the wide expanse of honey skin. He is slimmer than Joel, but still built strong. Lean and toned muscle take the place of Joel’s, which are hardened by life but softened by age. It’s not just the resemblance that had you comparing the two. You compared every lover to Joel. Eventually you just had to stop sleeping with anyone else, because no one measured up. There was simply before Joel, and after Joel. And after Joel, well… nothing else would suffice. Apart from this handsome stranger nominated by Joel personally. That, you were willing to try.

You fumble clumsily with his jeans until he takes over that, too. He grinds his palm into the hard bulge as he does so. You smirk a little when the trail of hair that is peeking out is revealed further, showing he isn’t wearing underwear.

He pushes them down his legs, not bothering to remove them fully, lays backwards, and then his hands are grabbing at your sides and pulling you up further so you are sitting on his stomach.

“You’re just something else, ain’t ya?” He says, his voice thick with desire for you.

You flush and he starts to take apart your costume, removing the head piece and uncovering your hair which remains perfect underneath. Then, he reaches behind you and unzips the dress, his touch gentle but still urgent, fuelled by desire. You raise your arms to let him slide it over your head, exposing your bare chest, and his hands immediately move to cup your breasts, kneading gently and toying with your nipples with his thumbs.

“Look at you…” He coos.

You basked in his attention. He was softer than Joel. Sweeter. Then you scolded yourself for comparing them and tried to enjoy the moment, leaning down to kiss him.

He pushed you away. “Uhuh.”

You frown, but he is quickly grabbing your thighs and pulling you further up his chest towards his face. You let him guide you until you are hovering over him, his mouth kissing at you through your lace underwear.

You let out a desperate sigh and you feel him smirk under you. He presses another few kisses before opening his mouth and dragging his tongue up and down your underwear.

You feel yourself shaking a little already, and you put effort into breathing deeply to avoid pathetically moaning so soon.

You gasp as Javi brings his hand up to your underwear, pulling it aside so his tongue has access to your wet core.

As soon as his tongue connects, he lets out a groan. Your knees shake and whilst you had been trying to hover slightly before, you end up fully sitting on his face. This encourages him even more, sloppily eating you out, his nose brushing your clit. He licks, sucks, and kisses each spot perfectly. His moustache tickles a little and you realise you have never slept with a dude with one before.

“Oh, god-“ You gasp, cutting yourself off with a loud moan. “Javiii-“

He moans into you as he eats you out hungrily, sending vibrations around your aching core.

“Fuck-“ You say. You rip yourself out of his grasp and shuffle down his body where his cock stands, hard and throbbing. You had to stop him before you came all over his face. Joel wouldn’t have appreciated that.

You glide your dripping cunt up and down his shaft, wetting it before rising up on your knees and taking it gently in your hand. You sink down onto it and watch his expression. He grits his teeth in pleasure.

You let it fill you for a moment, not moving while you adjust to his length. He has less girth than Joel, but not much. His length is equal, hitting a spot deep inside you as you gently rock back and forth. Once you are prepared, you start to move, slowly at first, but with gradually increasing pace and force.

Using your hands to help you balance, you start to bounce in a quick rhythm up and down his length. Your tits jiggle in his face, the cross hitting against his lips. He takes it between his teeth and you giggle, your hole fluttering and pulsing as you do so. This causes him to spit it out, his mouth opening in a sensual moan.

“Fuck, baby, you ride this cock so damn good-“ He pants, hands grabbing at your ass greedily, spreading your cheeks and helping you with your momentum as you bounce on his length shamelessly. The praise encourages you to keep trying hard to please him.

Your moans are desperate as you keep going, your head thrown back and your mouth open. Your eyes roll pornographically. When you eventually summon the strength to open them and look down at him, you see him transfixed on you.

“Yeah, yeah just like that.” He grunts, “Fucking ride that dick, baby, yeah. Oh yeah just like that”

You are too wrapped up in the sensations, the sounds, of you and Javi, that you don’t notice the door opening. It’s heavy footsteps on the lush carpet that break you out of your trance. You whip your head round, the motion of your hips not faltering, as you make eye contact with him. Joel. At last.

He smiles a dark smile, his eyes wide as he takes in the scene before him. You realise how depraved it must all be from his perspective, the bejewelled Cross sticking to your tits with sweat as you bounce on this stranger’s cock.

“Don’t be rude, baby.” Are the first words out of his mouth. “Keep your eyes on what you’re doing.”

You break away from looking at him reluctantly, focussing your attention back on Javi, whose head is thrown back into the pillows, mouth falling open and eyes now closed in pleasure. You see sweat glistening on his throat and something urges you to lean down and lick a wide stripe up it, the salty taste beautiful on your tongue.

You try to pay attention to Javi and not let yourself get distracted by Joel’s movements. You hear the splash of liquid into a glass and realise you had observed his favourite whiskey earlier, right next to the champagne bucket. The signs of him had been all over the room already and you hadn’t noticed.

You continue to chase your pleasure, the alcohol supplying you with a rare confidence that left you able to perform for both men with little shame. You slow down your movements, feeling Javi deep inside you and grinding your clit against the dark curls at the base of him. Your moans become louder as you do so, rubbing against him rhythmically until you feel the tension of an orgasm building.

“I’m gonna cum.” You gasp, your voice strained.

“No you’re not.” Says the voice from behind you.

Javi’s eyes are open again, watching you, taking in every expression on your face. He smirks at Joel’s words and grips your thighs, preventing you from moving.

“Please-“ You gasp, unsure which of the two men you are pleading with. Your hips jerk involuntarily to chase the same sensation you had been creating previously but Javi keeps a firm grip on you.

“No. You’re going to step being selfish and ride him like a good girl.” Joel instructs. “And you’re gonna hold it. The only cock you’ll come on will be mine.”

You whimper pathetically, turning your head to look at Joel, who is sitting in the armchair I the corner of the room with a perfect view of the bed, hopeful that your wrecked expression might make him take pity on you.

“What did I tell you about manners already?” He scolds, unmoved by you. “Don’t look at me. Look at him.”

When you do, you find Javi’s expression is amused. He doesn’t add to the exchange, simply observing you and Joel’s dynamic, listening as the other man bends you to his will so easily.

You brace your hands on his chest once again and try to follow Joel’s instruction, abandoning the pleasure you had been giving yourself by grinding on his cock and going back to bouncing on it. You can’t find your rhythm and Javi helps you, thrusting his hips upwards into you.

Joel tuts disapprovingly as he watches, taunting, “You’ve forgotten how to ride a cock properly, huh? Need a lesson?”

You whine in frustration and embarrassment, giving up on your own movements and letting Javi control the pace from under you, rutting up into you with enough force that you still need to grasp at his chest to keep your balance. Your tits align with his face and he reaches up with his mouth to suck at one of your nipples.

You hear Joel moving and before you can wonder what he is doing, there are hands on you. His large palms wrap around your waist from behind, holding you tightly. Javi stops moving and Joel starts to control you, lifting you up and dropping you down harshly onto Javi’s cock. You let out a high pitched moan, to Joel’s displeasure.

“Be quiet.” He says. “This isn’t for you.”

He does it repeatedly, forcing you up and down again and again until you lose all control of your upper body, collapsing back into Joel’s wide frame. You bite your lip to hold back your moans, and then Javi helps you by reaching up and sticking a thumb into your mouth. You suck it obediently and you hear him curse under his breath.

“You gonna show him what else your mouth can do, baby?” Joel growls into your ear.

You nod eagerly and Joel lifts you off of Javi. You whimper, the sensation of being empty is unpleasant. Joel laughs darkly.

“Greedy little cunt.” He says. “Doesn’t wanna go a second without being filled up, huh?”

You ignore his teasing and get onto all fours, crawling between Javi’s legs, knowing that simultaneously, you are giving Joel the perfect view of your wet pussy. But he doesn’t touch you again and you hear his footsteps moving away from the bed. You are disappointed but after being chastised twice for looking at him, you manage to resist that urge and focus on Javi’s cock.

You start with just licking, gathering up the taste of your own juices from his shaft. You moan lightly and feel your pussy throb.

“Such a tease.” Javi says, tangling one hand into your hair. The other tucks behind his own head as he lounges back in the luxurious bedding, the image of nonchalance.

His comment doesn’t stop you, though. This is your style. You lick the tip, swirling round it with your tongue. He chases your mouth with a thrust of his hips but you pull your head back at the same time, stopping him from controlling the pace. He growls in displeasure but you choose to maintain the little semblance of control for a while longer. You replace your tongue with a hand, wrapping it around him and letting your mouth travel lower, teasing his balls with light kitten licks. He groans and you take one into your mouth fully, sucking lightly.

“Jesus-“ He sighs, bucking his hips up again involuntarily. You continue for a moment, swirling your tongue around it as it fills your mouth before releasing it with a pop and swapping the position of your mouth and hands once again.

Your hands massage his balls lightly and you finally take the head of his cock into your mouth. You lower your head slowly, very slowly, until it’s halfway in and hits the back of your throat, before rising off of it again just as slowly. He’s more patient than Joel, who would have put a stop to this much before now.

You do it again, your speed increasing only incrementally. He twitches inside your mouth and you feel his fingers gripping your hair tighter in a sign of his impatience. Soon, the game is up, and he starts forcing your head up and down urgently. You gag and splutter all over his cock but he doesn’t slow down. You are so wrapped up in it, that it takes you a while to register a weight on the bed behind you, until eventually, your attention is grabbed by a hard cock gliding up and down your wet seam.

You moan around Javi’s cock which leads him to relent in his pace a little, choosing to savour the feeling instead.

“Now you remember what I told you.” Joel says. “Don’t take your eyes off him.”

You can’t respond other than to try and nod which leads the tip of Javi’s cock to prod forcefully into the back of your throat. You gag again and feel your hole convulse, Joel grits his teeth.

He presses the tip into you slowly and within just an inch, you are so full. Full of Javi in your mouth and full of Joel now, too. You moan as he pushes further and further in, your sweet sounds sending vibrations around Javi’s cock that have him cursing incessantly.

Joel’s hands reach to take both of your hips and as soon as he has sheathed himself fully, he is pulling out again and setting an aggressive pace. This is his favourite position and you imagine it is only enhanced for him, as it is for you, by seeing your mouth all filled up too, rendering you incapable of speech, locked in place between the two men.

He hammers into you and you lose control, the blowjob becoming messier, spit dribbling all down Javi’s cock so that it is sliding in and out of your throat with little resistance. Neither of them limit the harshness of their actions, Joel pounding into your cunt and Javi into your throat. The sensation is unlike anything you have ever felt. You don’t think you can get any fuller until you feel Joel’s wet thumb prodding at your ass.

You cry out as he slips it inside you. He groans, low and satisfied. “You like that baby, huh? You like us taking up every single one of your slutty holes? Filthy whore that you are. Jesus-“

You moan at his words and Javi starts to twitch inside your mouth. He pulls your mouth off of him suddenly, not wanting to finish yet. You lower your head turning your cheek so that it rests on his thigh, your back arching in an extreme fashion. He just watches, rubbing himself gently as Joel continues to abuse both of your holes from behind.

Then eventually he pushes you off of him and moves, your eyes are closed but Joel watches what he is doing as he gets off the bed and stands at its edge, pumping his cock in his hand. Joel manoeuvres you so you are facing Javi again.

“Can I come in her mouth?” Javi asks Joel.

Joel lets out a mean laugh. “You don’t have to ask that, man. What else is a whore’s mouth good for?”

You whimper, your cunt throbbing and pulsing around Joel, unbelievably turned on by hearing them talk about you, not to you, like you aren’t even the third participant in this event.

Javi rubs his cock over your face, your cheeks, slapping at your chin with it. Just because he can. Your mouth falls open and he feeds the tip to you slowly, giving you a false sense of security before roughly slamming in the rest of the length. It forces you backwards, impaling you harder on Joel’s cock and the now two fingers which are exploring your asshole.

You feel as though you are the rope in some sick game of tug of war, the way the two of them pass you back and forth between them. Eventually you can’t even separate the sensations both men are giving you and you are left weak and boneless, just moving with the hammering tide that pulls you in and pushes you away again and again.

It’s Javi’s pace that falters first, moans and expletives escaping from his lips until his salty hot load fills your mouth. He half pulls out and spills the remainder over your cheeks and nose. It drips all over your face and he holds you up by your chin. His thumb drifts over the hot spend and directs it towards you mouth. You swallow it all and suck his fingers clean.

“Jesus, I could watch that all day.” He says. But he doesn’t, and he walks away from you after only a brief few seconds. With Javi satisfied, Joel flips you over so you are on your back. He lifts your feet, placing both ankles on his shoulders, ploughing you harder than you thought possible. You had imagined he was fucking you full force before, but like always, he ends up having just that little bit more to give.

You moan and whine helplessly, his pace unrelenting and his stamina downright cruel. You are unable to open your eyes, absolutely exhausted from him and Javi’s treatment. He doesn’t mind, satisfied with your performance already and happy to use you for his pleasure when you are in this state, soft and pliable to his every will. You vaguely register the sound of the door opening and then closing, the two men offering noncommittal farewells to one another.

“Oh, my baby.” Joel is whispering gently. “You did so well for me. You impressed me so much, sweetheart, I’m so proud of you.”

His rambling seems to go on for a long while, but then again, you don’t know how much of a concept of time you even have left. Some of his words seem distant, like they’re coming to you through a filter. Some of them are so unbelievable that you discount them as just being part of a dream.

“I’m so proud of you, my sweet girl. Always so good for me. Always do so well for me. My sweet baby.”

He must think you’re asleep, talking like this. You still aren’t entirely convinced you are awake either.

Your name falls from his lips like a prayer as he finishes inside you. You think he holds you like that for longer than usual, until he is completely soft and slips out of you, both his and your juices leaking onto the bed. He cleans you up and he kisses you. He kisses you everywhere, your face, your neck, your chest, down your stomach. You keen towards him unconsciously, weak hands grabbing at whatever part of him you can reach and ending up tangled in the curls at the nape of his neck.

“What am I gonna do with you, my girl? Hmm?” He hums into the crook of your neck.

You must have fallen asleep, although you’re not sure for how long. When your eyes flutter open, it’s still dark, and you register a weight in the bed next to you. You turn towards it.

Joel’s eyes are already open and he is gazing at you intently.

“Hi.” He says.

“Hey.” You say. You can’t help the word from trailing off into a giggle. He renders you downright stupid.

He reaches out a hand to your cheek and strokes it with the pad of his thumb, before moving to push some hair behind your ear with his other fingers. These are his rare affectionate gestures, and whilst you aren’t experiencing them for the first time, they certainly aren’t frequent.

“It’s been a long year.” He says.

You never talk about the time you spend apart. All that matters is the precious, no, sacred, time that you do get together.

“It always is, for me.” You say. He tenses a little in response and you curse yourself silently for having said too much.

To your relief, he relaxes again and pulls your body closer to him. Warmth radiates from the place where your head meets his broad chest. He kisses into the top of your head, inhaling deeply the scent of your shampoo. It’s coconut. He kisses you again and again.

Suddenly, he speaks.

“I don’t know if I can do this again.” He says.

You freeze up. A chill runs down your spine. He wants to break off the arrangement? Somehow you feel blindsided, even though every year the possibility crosses your mind that he’ll finally do it.

Maybe that’s why he brought you Javi. Maybe he thought you would hit it off and you could just move on with him, offered up to you like meat on a platter for your own convenience. Your mind runs through the last few hours in an instant, looking for any sign, any hint from Joel that was this coming. You find none.

He, blissfully unaware of every thought racing around your head, continues, rubbing salt in the wound.

“I just- I just don’t think I can do it again. I’m sorry.” He repeats.

Your heart is racing, your stomach doing backflips. This was inevitable. He’s probably met someone else. Someone who he wants more from than what he wants from you. Someone his own age who thinks the same things he does. Someone who understands the references and jokes that fly over your head. Someone who is the opposite of everything that you are insecure about. Someone powerful and equally matched for him.

But then he speaks again, quieter this time. “Listen baby, the waiting it’s just- I can’t do it anymore. How could one night a year ever be enough? I need ‘em all.”

Oh my god. You honestly thought you must have been dreaming for a moment, unable to process his words and reconcile them with actual reality.

He is silent for a long while and you realise he must be waiting on a response, but you can’t find words.

“I- I-“

You hesitate and he cuts you off. His voice is guarded now.

“No, yeah. You don’t have to explain. It’s whatever. I figured you must have someone else anyway. Didn’t wanna assume but… Yeah. It figures.”

“No.” You say quickly. “There’s no one else. There hasn’t been anyone else for- for years.”

A silence grows again. And eventually, you are first to fill it.

“How could there be anyone else?” You say. “I just stopped trying to find anyone else. It’s always been you for me, Joel. No point trying to fight that.” Your voice trails off to a whisper.

He puts a thumb under your chin, raising it so your eyes meet his for the first time during the exchange. His brown irises sparkle, lighter than you have ever seen them. He presses his lips to yours and kisses you desperately, muttering practically intelligibly about “My baby. God why didn’t I just ask sooner? My sweet baby. All mine.”

You drift off to sleep again, a tangle of limbs, breathing each other in. You don’t know what will happen in the morning, but at least you know that this time, it won’t be a year until you see Joel again.

Thanks for reading! Masterlist

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader smut #javi pena smut #agent pena smut #javier pena smut #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena x reader smut #agent pena x reader smut #joel miller x reader x javier pena #joel miller au #tlou smut #narcos smut #tlou au #loquacious ferret #kinktober

263 notes · View notes

mendeshoney · 6 months

Text

apple of my eye, take a bite

A/N: surprise surprise! this is a part two to "a taste of the devine," with a special little halloween twist! to my lovelies, @pyotrkochetkov and @smileysvech happy halloween babes! the title is inspired by lyrics from the song “eve” by precious pepala

Summary: You and Andrei go to the team Halloween party at a club, and it takes Andrei down memory lane.

Pairing: andrei svechnikov x f!reader

Word Count: 5,120

Warnings: five year age gap, older woman x younger man, fluff, previously established dynamics (including msub x fdom dynamics, switch, mdom x fsub dynamics), smut, semi-public sex (in a club), hints of biting/hickies, penetration, finish inside, unprotected sex

Russian terms used (bearing in mind the author does not speak Russian and definitely Google’d these) can be referenced here.

“I feel like this won’t make much sense,” Andrei quietly mumbles to himself, adjusting the ‘hat’ of his costume, his eyes casting to the side once he sees movement from inside the closet.

The sliding frosted glass door is closed, so he can only see your shadow as you move around, and he can feel himself start to get antsy.

You’d kept your part of the couples costume a shrouded secret from him, claiming you wanted to surprise him.

As far as surprises go, he typically liked yours a lot, but given his current predicament, he found himself a little more anxious than normal.

He glances at himself in the vanity mirror in your shared bedroom, running a cursory hand over the fuzzy material of his Halloween costume, and frowning a little at his reflection.

“Kroshka, I don’t-” He starts, cutting himself off and turning back toward the closet when he hears the sliding door open.

You finally emerge, body in an emerald green mini dress that you’d sewed fake vines onto so that they curled and twisted around your figure, enhancing your silhouette, vines trailing down your shoulder and around your arms until they rested delicately on your wrists. Those beautiful legs of yours donned a pair of thigh high velvet stiletto boots, the color matching your dress perfectly.

You looked a lot more like that character that Evgeny used to tease him for having a crush on when they were kids, Poison Ivy, than you did the biblical Eve.

Sukin syn.

Andrei’s hard in seconds, heart pounding furiously as his stomach flutters.

Babochki, he thinks. Butterflies.

He laughs suddenly, feeling nervous out of the blue.

“What do you think?” You ask, turning your body a little so he can get a better view.

“I think there’s butterflies in my stomach,” he says honestly, the words coming out faster than he can process, but when you flush deeply, he feels a twinge of satisfaction.

“You still have a way with words, don’t you?” You tease, trying to look anywhere else but him, and he knows that strategy.

Sometimes, when you’re not sure how to receive his compliments, you try to brush them off, but tonight’s not a night Andrei can let that fly.

He can feel his hands twitching at his sides, and his feet are moving towards you before he even realizes, that familiar gravitational pull too strong to resist.

“Ty vyglyadish' krasivo, lyubov' moya.” He murmurs. You look beautiful, my love.

You smile at his words, his hands coming to rest on your waist and pull you closer. “Spasibo, malysh.” You finally seem to take in his costume, and you giggle lightly. “You look so cute!”

He frowns, brows pinched together. “I’m glad you think so.”

You smile, giggling a little more. “Of course I think so.”

“Remind me again why I couldn’t just be ‘Adam’ for Halloween?” He asks, fingers playing with a fake vine on your shoulder.

“Because no one cares about Adam,” you remind him gently. “The story’s about Eve and the Apple. Adam’s just there.”

Andrei pouts a little, turning back toward the mirror and staring at the apple suit that covers his upper half, the red hat on his head with the apple’s stem and a little leaf, and the dark brown pants on his legs. “I guess so,” he laments, then turns his gaze back to you.

You know him so well at this point that when the corner of your mouth quirks up in a small smile, he isn’t even surprised, and just smiles right back at you. “Don’t worry, shchenok, everyone still thinks you’re sexy.”

“I don’t care about everyone,” he says without a second’s hesitation. “Just you.”

A small flush works its way up your neck and cheeks. “I still think you’re sexy, too.”

Andrei’s heart pounds then, that familiar disbelief that he was able to call someone like you the love of his life surfacing in his chest. He bends his head, pride surging through his veins when you accept his kiss.

“We should probably go soon,” you murmur against his mouth.

Andrei hums, shrugging. “Or we could stay home. Have our own little Halloween party.”

“Not an option, I’m afraid.” You say, and pull yourself out of his arms to head back into the closet. He watches, completely entranced, as you pull on a pair of thigh high velvet stiletto boots, the color matching your dress perfectly, and he can feel himself start to tent in his pants.

“Kroshka,” he tries again, the word nearly getting caught in his throat, “Are you sure we can’t just-”

You cut him off by standing, grabbing your small clutch and his car keys, tossing a curt “Let’s go, moye yabloko” over your shoulder as you head to the garage.

Andrei glances at himself in the mirror one last time, offering his reflection a long-suffering sigh, before grabbing his wallet and trailing after you.

His teammates don’t laugh as much as he expected, which he supposes is because out of all the costumes tonight, he looks the least ridiculous.

Jesperi, Teuvo, and Sebastian are dressed as Alvin and the Chipmunks - Jesperi was elected to be Theo against his will, Teuvo gladly accepted the role of Simon because it meant he was the smartest, which left Sebastian as Alvin, who claimed it was only fair since his last name began with an ‘A’ - Freddie, Anti, Jacob, and Brett dressed up as Michaelangelo, Donatello, Leonardo, and Rafael from the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Brent was dressed as Sully from Monsters Inc, and those were just the costumes he managed to figure out on his own.

There were far too many others for him to keep track of or understand and some were just a headache to look at, so he ended up focusing on the one thing he knew would keep his attention - the way your ass moved in your dress as you walked through club toward the VIP section they’d reserved for the team party.

The girls complimented you on your outfit and assured Andrei that he looked cute instead of silly, and it only made him feel marginally better.

He was still dressed as a giant apple for the night, after all, while his bombshell of a girlfriend looked like a walking fantasy.

After you’d said hello to everyone, the two of you ended up separated, the girls heading out to the dancefloor, some of the guys heading to the bar to grab drinks and snacks, and the rest settling into the VIP section.

Andrei plopped down between Jesperi and Freddie, removing his costume’s hat and putting it on the little table in their section, tuning out most of the conversation happening within the first ten minutes and instead finding himself focused on you and that beautiful dress out on the dance floor.

His eyes were glued to you as you danced, lost in the familiar way your hips moved and how carefree you were. Other people may have needed a little bit of alcohol in them to be so uninhibited, but you didn’t. You never had.

Watching you now, it reminds him of the first night he met you.

It had been earlier this year, when the guys had been having a particularly rough week of games, and they’d gone out to a club to relieve some stress.

You’d been there with some of your friends, and Andrei had been feeling a little bit too confident after a few drinks. He’d locked eyes with you barely ten minutes after he’d arrived and couldn’t take his eyes off you the whole night, couldn’t seem to find the need to wander more than ten feet out of your orbit.

He finally found the courage to approach you after Martinook had all but threatened to send Freddie after you first, pushing off the bar and heading over to you.

He tried the gentlemanly approach, introduced himself properly by taking your hand, and from that first touch there was this crazy electric wildfire of sexual tension that neither of you seemed to be able to deny. You didn’t seem disturbed by him being five years younger than you, and he couldn’t have cared any fucking less about you being twenty eight.

He worried for maybe half a second about you not being able to understand him through his accent, but you had no problems with it, even beyond the blaring music of the club. Then, he offered to get you a drink or a bottle of water - whatever you wanted really, he didn’t care - before asking if you minded if he joined you for a dance.

One dance became two, then four, then six, and then the next thing he knew, you both had locked yourselves in a storage closet down the back hall of the club and he had you pinned against the wall, his jeans and boxer briefs around his thighs, your dress hiked up to your waist, thong pulled to the side, and his cock buried so deep inside of you that you had to bite down on the meaty flesh of his shoulder to keep from crying out too loudly.

You’d fucked twice in that closet before you took him back to your place and fucked another two times. In the morning, you’d managed to contain yourselves in the shower, but Andrei lost all restraint and licked your pussy on your kitchen table until your throat grew hoarse and your legs shook so much your table started to squeak.

He managed to rein it in and take you on a date two days later, and then you invited him out for dinner another three days after that. After about ten dates without any sexual interactions at all, and about a month in total of you actually knowing each other, he’d asked you to be his girlfriend, and you both celebrated when you said ‘yes’ to him by locking yourselves in at his place and fucking like bunnies for about two days.

Andrei had learned everything about what you liked in bed in that first month, and you’d learned everything about what he liked.

You’d also learned enough about one another that Andrei was pretty sure he’d end up marrying you and having about five or seven kids within the next seven years, because there was no possible way he’d ever manage to find someone as brilliant as you ever again.

And at this point, you’d barely been dating a year.

He’d say he was probably moving too fast in any other circumstance, but he was pretty sure you were on the same page.

He feels a nudge in his side, and Andrei glances over, momentarily shocked because he’d completely forgotten his friends were dressed in costumes, and the orange fabric around Freddie’s eyes nearly scared him shitless for a second.

“You want another drink? The chipmunks lost a bet so they’re buying for the night.” Freddie says, gesturing to where Jesperi had gotten up and was now writing down orders on his phone.

“Sure,” Andrei says. “I’ll take one.”

Jesperi points to where you are on the dance floor and asks Andrei “One for her too, right?”, and when Andrei nods, Jesperi gives him a thumbs up before stalking over to the bar.

He has a feeling it’s going to take Jesperi awhile to put in the drink orders for the whole section, so Andrei resumes watching you, reminiscing on the day you first met and chiming in on the conversations around him every now and again.

You finally wander over with the girls once the drinks arrive, and Andrei immediately opens his arms, feeling content when you settle into his embrace and onto his lap. He hands you your drink, careful to keep your hair out of your face when you take a sip.

There’s a sound of fake retching, and you and Andrei cut your eyes to where Jesperi’s making faces at the two of you. You roll your eyes, settling into Andrei a little more, and he wraps his arms around your waist, securing you to him.

“Jealous, KK?” One of the other girls asks, and Jesperi’s nose scrunches.

“Hardly.” He scoffs. “I’m basically watching my older sister make out with one of my best friends. It’s disturbing.”

Andrei feels you stiffen in his arms, but Jesperi’s already turning away, and Andrei squeezes you gently. “Zajka?”

You turn to Andrei, a slightly stunned expression on your face. “I…does he really think of me that way?”

“What way?” Andrei asks, bringing a hand up to gently caress your cheek.

He can see the shock starting to settle in a little more. “Like an older sister?”

And though Andrei knows they’ve never really talked about it, because it’s not really a topic that would come up, he knows for certain the answer is yes.

Especially after the way you looked after everyone during the beach trip this past summer, all Andrei heard for weeks during training camp and preseason was how much everyone missed your cooking, people asking how you were doing, and demands for him to bring you around more.

Since you’d barely been together for six months at that point, he didn’t push you about it at all because he didn’t want you to feel pressured or rushed, even though he knew you liked everyone just fine. It was another thing he felt like would make it feel like this was going too fast, even though you’d probably be on the same page about this, too.

“I think a lot of them think that way.” He admits. “Pretty sure Freddie thinks of you as a younger sister. Burnsy too, to be honest.”

There’s a thoughtful look in your eyes now, and after a beat, you nod. “I didn’t know that.”

“Is that…is that okay?” He asks, slightly unsure. He doesn’t know that he’s seen you this…contemplative before.

You turn to Andrei, and give him that dazzling smile of yours he loves so much. “Of course it’s okay. Just took me by surprise a little.”

He nods, sitting up a little more so he can press a kiss to the base of your neck. “They love you as much as I do.”

Andrei’s surprised when his kiss makes you shiver a little, and he pulls back a bit, raising a brow at you.

You flush, suddenly bashful. “I just…” He raises a brow when you seem to be trying to find the words to say, and you gesture with your head towards the dancefloor. “Feels familiar, doesn’t it?”

Realization hits Andrei and he smiles, nodding. “It does, zajka.”

A sly, cheshire smile works its way onto your lips, and Andrei feels his heart begin to pound in anticipation. “Let’s see just how well you can tempt me a second time, moye yabloko.”

You’re downing the rest of your drink and getting up from his lap faster than he can blink, and then you’re heading back out to the dancefloor with the girls.

As Andrei watches you walk away, he catches the wink you send him over your shoulder before you disappear into the crowd, and he smirks to himself.

Da nachnetsya igra.

Let the games begin.

Drink in hand, Andrei makes his way through the crowd, his puffy apple costume coming in hand by parting the crowd a little as he moves - he even has the ridiculous hat on again - until he finally reaches where you are in the middle of the dance floor.

He taps gently on your shoulder, and when you turn around, your eyes look up at him curiously, a small smile on your face.

Andrei leans down so you can hear him better, saying “Hi, I couldn’t help but notice you earlier, and I thought I’d introduce myself and bring you a drink.”

It’s not exactly what he said that first night, but it’s close enough. So what if he skipped a few cheesy lines?

You lean back a little, staring at the drink in his hand before taking it with a small amount of hesitation. “Thank you,” you say back, leaning in like he had. “That’s really thoughtful of you.”

“I’m Andrei,” he says, holding his hand out.

You take it, shaking it once when you tell him your name in return.

The nostalgia has those butterflies resurfacing in his stomach, and he tries his best not to smile like a total idiot. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you, too.” You say, then smirk a little at his costume. “You know, I’m pretty sure I was warned to stay away from you.”

He laughs a little, stepping closer into your space. Bending down so he’s right next to your ear, he rests a hand on your waist and says “One bite won’t hurt.”

At your responding chuckle, Andrei feels goosebumps ignite on his arms. “I’ve heard that before.”

“It’s different this time,” he promises. “It’s just us. And there’s no punishment.”

“Sounds a little too good to be true,” you say, pulling away a little and taking a sip of your drink, blinking up at him from under your lashes.

Andrei rights himself, shrugging. “Only one way to find out, isn’t there?” He gestures with his head towards a hallway that he’d confirmed about ten minutes ago had both a storage closet as well as what looked like an unused office full of boxes, but still came equipped with a couch and a perfectly solid desk.

He makes his way toward the hall, waiting for all of five minutes before you appear in front of him, the glass your drink was in now empty save for the cherry stem he already knew had a knot in it.

“Fancy seeing you here,” you joke, taking careful steps toward him.

He holds a hand out, pleased when you take it, and he leads you toward the end of the hall. The door to the storage closet is on the left, and the door to the empty office is on the right. He places you in front of him, his hands resting on your waist from behind.

“Pick a door, zajka.” He says softly.

You hum a little, taking a step forward. You open the door on the right first, but there’s a small noise that leaves you, and Andrei’s confused when you don’t take a step inside. You open the door to the left, and the second you see the closet, you spin around, smiling wickedly at him before pulling him inside.

He flips you the second he crosses the threshold, shutting the door and locking it before pinning you against the wood, placing his arms on either side of your head. “Didn’t like the office?”

You shake your head, tilting your chin up, waiting. “Not the same.”

“I would’ve liked fucking you on the desk.” He admits, the image of it still fresh in his brain.

“You didn’t fuck me on a desk till I moved in with you.” You remind him.

He smirks. “Oh I remember,” he promises. “Hard to forget the time you made me come so hard I almost passed out.”

You shrug. “You’re still alive, aren’t you?”

He drops one of his hands from the door only to bring it up between you, running a finger down the side of your neck, to your collarbone, your chest, before teasing at the neckline of your dress.

“If you rip this dress before you get me in your bed, moye yabloko, you’ll be sorry.” You warn, but even so, your back arches off the wall, pushing your chest into his touch.

Andrei smirks. He’s never been one to shy away from his punishments.

Instead, he trails his hand down your dress and to the hem, pushing it up your thighs until he can reach under it to bring his fingers to your core, pleased when he finds the fabric of your thong already soaked.

“May I, moya koroleva?” He asks sweetly, eyes focused on where his hand lingers.

You nod, breath hitching a little when he pulls your thong to the side and runs his finger between your folds. “I want it like the first time.”

Andrei blinks, eyes darting back up to your face.

That first night was intense - and beautiful - but also not the kind of sex the two of you have most often. He likes to please you, likes taking his time warming you up or worshiping you the way he’s learned that you like best. Other than the occasional quickie, you two rarely ever just get straight to it.

“Can you take me like this? Right now?” He checks.

“I can,” you say. You reach forward, fingers finding one of the belt loops of his pants and pulling him forward. “Please, malysh. I don’t want to wait.”

His heart beats hard against his ribcage.

It’s rare that you’re the one pleading for him, that you’re the one asking for it this way, and he can feel the way his breath starts to stutter as he tries to maintain his composure.

The second he nods in agreement, it’s a race to get inside of you.

In a hurry, the two of you work to unbutton and unzip his pants, shuffling them down his thighs along with his boxer briefs. His aching cock springs free, and before you can reach for him, he’s bending down to lift you up and pin you against the wall, helping to wrap your legs around his waist.

He balances you in one arm as you press your weight into the wall, reaching down to line his cock up to your entrance. The second he can feel it catch, he presses in at the same time that you angle your hips downward, and he pushes until he’s seated all the way inside and his hips press yours against the wall.

You take a gasping breath, head lolling back as your eyes squeeze shut, arms flying to his shoulders and nails digging into the skin as your pussy grips him tightly.

“Zajka?” He asks, worried. “Are you okay?”

You nod, breathing harshly through your nose. “Move, malysh, spasibo. I need you.”

Andrei has a sudden feeling he’s going to have a hard time trying to remember to breathe if you keep talking.

Carefully, he pulls his hips back until just the head of his cock rests inside, and then he pushes back inside in one brutal stroke that seizes the breath from your lungs once more.

“Just like the first time,” he reminds you, before setting a rough and steady pace.

Your moans fill the room in seconds, and Andrei doesn’t care anymore about who can hear you or who can’t.

Especially when he knows you couldn’t care less about it either.

This time, you’re not at Freddie’s house and worried about making a good impression.

You’re here, with him, pretending like it’s the first night you met all over again, except this time there’s less to be cautious of for both of you.

Although…

If you do want it like it’s the first time again…

“You can’t moan too loud, kroshka.” He says, pressing in closer to you as his strokes slow a little, dragging himself in and out of you with precision. “Don’t want anyone to hear how pretty you are when you’re dripping on my cock, do you?”

Recognition flashes in your eyes like a bright flame, and you capture your lip between your teeth, nodding obediently.

“Need something to bite down on, my beautiful Eve?” He murmurs, gathering you up in his arms and pushing until he’s flush against you, tilting his head to expose his neck. “Do it, it’s okay.”

You wind your arms around his shoulder and lean forward, and when Andrei feels your lips on his neck, his whole body shivers, groaning at the way he can feel your teeth bite down before licking over the wound, then sucking a bruise into the skin.

That’s another thing the two of you don’t give a shit about anymore.

Andrei’s all too proud to wear your marks like a badge of honor, so as you suck on his skin, feeling his pulse beneath your tongue, he knows you take notice of the way his cock drives deeper into you.

He doesn’t know if he’ll be able to manage a second round in this closet, too desperate to fill you up and then drag you home so he can do it over and over again.

When his hips stutter a little, you finally pull away from his neck, leaning back to examine your work, smiling proudly. “Such a pretty little thing, moye yabloko.”

Fuck.

It is just like the first night all over again.

Andrei remembers the dirty things you whispered to him then, too. He remembers how he’d never heard something so sultry, so sexy in his entire life. It somehow made him hornier, made him feel like he could go insane with how much it made him need you even more in that moment.

It was like you knew exactly what to say and what to do to drive him insane, to make him feel like he would do anything to prove to you just how good he could be.

“You’re the same good boy you were that first night, too,” You taunt again when he doesn’t respond, and a sharp hiss falls from his lips when you tug his hair harshly, prompting him to tilt his head up so he can look at you.

His knees nearly buckle, and he thrusts hard into you once in warning.

“You can’t say things like that,” he breathes out, focusing on fucking into you in deep, hard strokes.

“Why?” You breathe out, bringing your hands from his shoulders and tossing the hat of his costume off of his head before sinking your fingers into his hair.

He shakes his head. Any other man might be embarrassed, but that’s never been a thing between the two of you, and especially not when you’re being intimate.

“It makes me…u menya babochki.” Andrei admits, trying his best to stay focused. I get butterflies.

“Babochki?” You ask, tone just shy of a whine, slightly mocking him. “Do I give my pretty shchenok butterflies?”

He looks up when he feels your hand on his cheek, staring into your eyes, and he can feel himself getting closer to his orgasm just looking at you. You run your thumb over his lips as they part, resting the pad of it on his tongue before his cheeks hollow, sucking gently on the digit.

You smirk, eyes rolling back in your head when Andrei gives a particularly hard thrust, causing your back to arch a little more and your body to press further against his. He can tell you’re getting closer, can read all your little tells.

The way your chest starts to heave, how he can see your nipples starting to poke through the fabric of your dress, the way your body starts to go lax, thumb slipping from his mouth and hand moving to rest on his chest instead.

“You gonna come for me?” You ask, tone somewhere between taunting and begging.

Andrei nods furiously, welcoming the molten lava spreading across his spine as he finds solace inside of you. “Da, moya koroleva.”

“Gonna come inside of me?” This question is definitely a taunt. “Gonna fill up the pretty stranger the very first night?”

“I did it once,” he reminds you. “I’d do it again, but only for you.”

Your blinding, satisfied smile takes over your face and Andrei feels his heart fall to your feet in adoration. “Come with me,” he begs.

You nod, tilting your hips a little until he’s hitting that beautiful spot inside, and your eyes flutter shut, pussy squeezing tighter around him.

He loses all control after that, cock pounding into you in a frenzied, nearly manic pace, trying so hard to keep going for you while also chasing his own orgasm.

When he feels you lock him in that familiar death grip, your come drenching his cock and making the slide oh so right, his eyes squeeze shut, and a loud, satisfied groan leaves his mouth as he throbs, spilling inside of you until he feels like he can’t breathe right.

For a moment, the two of you can only remain like that - you slumped and sated in Andrei’s arms and his hips pinning you to the wall.

When he feels you begin to squirm, he carefully pulls out of you, then sets you back on your own two feet as gently as he can. He’s quick to locate a stack of paper towels behind him and grabs a few to help you clean up before pulling your thong back into place and tossing the paper towels into a trash can near the door.

“Do I look okay?” You ask, fussing with your dress.

Andrei nods, letting out a content sigh. “Beautiful as always. What about me?”

When you glance up at him, Andrei’s expecting the same, but then you blink, and a surprised laugh practically barks out of you. It startles him a little, and your hand is flying to cover your mouth, eyes glistening with delight.

“What?” He presses, starting to fuss with his own costume. “What is it?”

“Drei, how hard did you come?” You ask through fits of giggles.

“You said like the first night, so pretty hard.” He admits, unashamed. “Why?”

“You’re…you’re…” You can barely say it through your laughter. After a second, you take a deep breath, calming yourself, and then smile at him happily. “You’re as red as an apple.”

If he - apparently - wasn’t already red, he definitely would be by now.

“How bad is it?” Andrei asks, rubbing at his face absently.

You shrug. “No better and no worse than after a shift on the ice.”

He pouts, brows furrowing. “I don’t know if that’s good or bad.”

“It’s normal,” you explain. “It might be tough to explain away when we say goodbye to everyone in a minute, but it’ll be alright.”

“We’re going home?” He asks, already excited.

You nod, shrugging your shoulders a little. “Pretty sure that’s what we did the first night, too.”

He smirks, stepping closer to you and pulling you to him by your waist. “We did a lot of things that first night. And the next morning.”

Your own cheeks flush now, and you nod. “That we did.”

“Feel like a trip down memory lane, kroshka?” He murmurs, already leaning down.

You rise up on your tiptoes, lips brushing against his when you say “I think that sounds lovely, malysh,” before kissing him softly.

#andrei svechnikov #andrei svechnikov x reader #andrei svechnikov smut #carolina hurricanes #hockey writing #hockey fanfiction #hockey smut #mendeshoney masterlist

234 notes · View notes

hestiashand · 11 months

Text

here’s part one of my naruto character requests :D close ups under the cut!

part two

[ ID: 6 digital bust illustrations in a six fanarts template. top left to bottom right is haku, shino, konan, obito kushina and mikoto. END ID. ]

[ ID: six images, closeups of the characters in the same order as before. haku is drawn leaning out of an ice mirror looking up at the viewer. he is pale and is not wearing his headband, otherwise wearing his canon clothes. shino is drawn blasian with brown skin, coily hair, and two moles. he wears his round sunglasses and a grey turtleneck jacket. he has five helix piercings on each ear, the left silver and the right gold, and is wearing gold insect earrings. he holds a rhinoceros beetle on his finger. he is in a forest with a swarm of his bugs behind him. konan is drawn with slightly grown out purple hair, light brown eyes, very light freckles and brown skin. she looks at the viewer as pieces of paper fly off her face and start forming into butterflies to the right of the canvas. she is wearing her akatsuki robe and has blue raindrop earrings. she has her purple makeup and black lip piercing. the background is a rainy sky. obito is drawn with tan skin and he looks at the viewer. he is drawn with black hair, his face scars, one sharingan and the rinnegan. the sharingan eye is droopy. he wears a dark blue turtleneck and has his childhood goggles around his neck. white patches crawl up his neck a little. his background is his eye space. kushina is drawn with brown skin, light freckles, sun spots, dimples, brown eyes and dark red hair. she is smiling and looking to the right towards mikoto. she’s wearing a yellow tank top with frills on the sleeves and gold earrings with two swirls similar to the uzumaki crest. mikoto is smiling wide while looking towards kushina. she has pale skin, a few small freckles and a silver helix piercing on her left ear. she wears a silver necklace and a brown blouse with flowers. kushina and mikotos background match with a sunset sky and trees in the back. END ID. ]

#i will link the second part in just a minute when i post it !!#i had soooo much fun doing these….. i rlly rlly adore shino obito and kushinas #.. like a lot #kushina is everything to me………….#thank u to everyone who sent in a request 😭😭 i srsly got some of my faves requested #naruto #haku #aburame shino #konan #uchiha obito #uzumaki kushina #uchiha mikoto #6 fanarts #jitters art #jitters naruto art

283 notes · View notes

findmeabowloftrash-blog · 6 months

Text

okay so. I am very very recently into The Property of Hate. I am caught up, and rereading bits and parts, while attempting to find blogs that still actively talk about/post about it. I'm quite new, so there's a good chance I have just missed it, but these are some things I have noticed/wondered that I haven't seen talked about.

1) Theory: The eyes on (the top half of) the butterfly's wings are RGB's eyes. Reasoning: In "Iris," on pages 455 and 456, we see the butterfly glare at RGB while asking if he cares who they (the butterfly) once was, and he says no. It then cuts him, and we get a brief flashback of, presumably, human RGB telling someone (whoever the butterfly used to be? Or his reflection, perhaps?) that he hates them, with the same glare. This is also, I believe, the only time we ever see his eyes in a flashback. Further, the butterfly is widely believed to be Hate, and it would make sense that his own hatred (of this other person? of himself?) is what "blinded" him. ESPECIALLY if it blinded him to his own potential. More on that later.

2) Observation: Negative seems to wear actual spats, as opposed to having them be part of his shoes. Relevance: Mod once said in answer to an ask about RGB's suspenders that nothing about him is genuine, it's only meant to appear that way, and cited his not-actually-spats as one example. If Negative does indeed wear real spats, does that make at least part of him more "genuine" than RGB?

3) Theory(?): Negative means no harm to Hero, and in fact cares a great deal about her. Reasoning: He's clearly intelligent, not just violent toward whatever is closest, because in his first appearance he protects Hero, rather than going after her himself. If the Fears were no match for him, why waste time fighting them if he wanted to hurt her? She would have been the weakest target, not the Fears. Then, in the desert, after creating the giant rose to protect himself and Hero, once he looks up and notices her, the eye on his screen looks teary, like it's watering up. (Pg 355) And wouldn't you cry if a child you wanted to protect came back into a deadly storm for you? In addition, I saw a post somewhere reasoning that the House of Lead belongs to Negative, and in that post the OP theorized that Negative wanted Hero to tell RGB about him. If he were antagonistic, or had literally any ill will toward Hero, that wouldn't make any sense.

Miscellaneous thoughts and rambling:

RGB calls himself "an unreliable narrator at best" during the same conversation/monologue/story he says that he is a failure, that the only thing he ever does is fail. ("After all, I died, didn't I?" -pg 472) And it seems that way, based on his history with heroes, sure. He fails pretty much all of his goals in the story (even ones like "don't get attached"). But if we go based on a number of meta things, we can easily reason that that isn't true, and he is, in fact, an unreliable narrator of his own life. For one, he was almost certainly an actor or entertainer of some sort. That in and of itself is a form of success. But beyond that, we have Mod's "The Face of Television" art, which implies he was VERY successful. There is also the "I was in Brooklyn when I found out" art of Dial looking at obituaries in the newspaper. Why would the obituary of a failed British actor be in an American newspaper? He had to have been someone well-known. Finally, on page 433, all the way to the left, among the static, you can see, "-reaking news tonight --as famed --tertainer". All of this heavily points toward RGB being, not a failure, but instead highly successful when he was human. Rather, I think the "failure" part comes from how he viewed himself. Unable to look in the mirror, to stand himself at all, to think of himself as anything more than a projection-- empty, hollow. And isn't that exactly how he ended up? I think that he played into Hate's hand because he did, in fact, have hatred-- but it wasn't the kind she could use against others directly, because he doesn't hate others; He hates himself. He hates himself so strongly that, even after selling his memories, he still truly believes that he is, at his very core, a failure.

Maybe Negative is the part of him that believes in himself??

Also:

I never see anyone talk about the recurring shapes/symbols in RGB's flashbacks/dreams. I'm mentally calling them: Box (or possibly Casket), Hands, Iron, Teardrop, Rectangles. They appear on pages 335 and 456, at least. Possibly others. Really really curious what they represent.

Anyway I'm sure I'm missing a lot of well-known fandom stuff but. I just needed to put my thoughts together and dump them into a public space.

#Tpoh #tpoh rgb #the property of hate #tpoh negative #Tpoh theories #Trashseeker talks #I'll come back and edit this when it's not 2:28am

88 notes · View notes

coneyislandbabey · 1 year

Text

butterfly wings. -> w. rojas

WARNINGS: profanities and more incredibly sappy dad warren

SYNOPSIS: It's your and Warren’s daughter, Mariposa's first Halloween. Written for this request! (Part of the mariposaverse fics, the rest of which can be found on my master list) word count: 1,126

“Your papi is going to love this,” you said, smiling proudly down at your work. Mariposa gurgled up at you from her position on the bed, kicking her legs happily. You had been planning her first halloween costume practically since before she was born, when you calculated that she would be nearly six months old on the holiday, perfectly chubby and adorable. The idea for her costume came to you shortly after she was born, and you told Warren right then and there that it would be a surprise. He had been asking– well, begging really– you to tell him what it would be ever since.

Now Halloween was here, and you had been able to execute the idea better in reality than it even was in your head. Mariposa was wearing a long-sleeve black onesie that you had sewn wings onto, made out of silk that you had cut into the right shape yourself, and watercolored in the pattern of monarch wings. Camila had crocheted a little black hat for her, too, that had cartoonish little antennae sprouting from the top. It was nestled over the baby’s mass of curly black hair; a carbon copy of her father’s. You had gotten face paint from a costume store in Hollywood, and painted a little butterfly on each of your cheeks, and were wearing a dress in the exact same shade of orange as Mariposa’s wings.

You picked up your squirming daughter and carried her over to the floor-length mirror, giving both of you a once-over.

“We look perfect, my little butterfly,” you said triumphantly, nuzzling your nose against hers.

A short while later the front door opened, and you could hear Warren fumbling around. “Where are my girls at? I wanna see this costume finally!” He shouted, and you could hear the smile in his voice.

“Coming! Cover your eyes,” you shouted from the top of the stairs, gathering Mariposa up in your arms once more. You peered down the staircase to see your husband standing there, hands over his eyes and his face lifted in a smile. Once you were sure he wasn’t looking, you carried Mariposa down them, stopping right in front of him. “Okay, you can look now.”

Immediately, Warren pulled the hands from his eyes and drank in the view in front of him. His mouth dropped open, and you grinned as you could physically see the affection filling his dark eyes.

“I have never seen anything more perfect,” he breathed, and you laughed at the awe in his voice. Mariposa started giggling when she heard your laughter, and reached out her chubby little arms toward Warren, who immediately snatched her up and held her close to his chest.

“Look at you, princesa,” he said emphatically. “Mama made you look so perfect and beautiful, just like her.”

In response, Mariposa dropped her head against his cheekbone.

“Isn’t she the cutest thing in the world,” you cooed as you stepped over to the sideboard, where your camera was. You picked it up and turned it on the two of them, snapping a photo.

“You both are, but that’s true all the time,” he responded. “Hey, wait a minute– you guys match, I wanna match too!”

He was borderline pouting at you, and you burst out laughing at the expression on his face.

“Don’t worry, I knew you would. Go look up on the bed, I laid out your costume,” you said.

He didn’t waste a second before turning and bounding up the steps, and you followed at a leisurely place, an amused smile affixed on your face.

“No fucking way,” you heard Warren’s voice, slightly muffled from the bedroom. By the time you reached him, he was already wearing the white t-shirt and black vest embroidered with a bunch of bright monarch butterflies that you had gotten ready for him. You had found the vest at a thrift shop, then a plain black with a border of round silver studs, and asked an artist friend of yours to do the embroidery. You had thought it absolutely perfect when she dropped it off to you, and it was only made more perfect by the look of sheer euphoria on Warren’s face. Mariposa was sitting in bed with the shirt he had previously been wearing bunched in her little fists, chewing on the fabric.

“It looks even better than I imagined,” you gushed, reaching out and straightening the fabric. Warren’s hands came to your waist, a warm and gentle pressure against your skin. You grinned up at him, twisting your arms around his neck and bringing his face to yours.

When you broke the kiss it was just barely, your noses still touching. “You think I’m sexy even when I’m decked out in butterflies?’

“I would say that you’re extra sexy decked out in butterflies,” you nodded seriously, and Warren let out a whisper of a laugh, closing the miniscule gap between you as he kissed you again.

“Now, do you want me to paint your cheeks with butterflies, too?”

“Is that even a question?”

The sun was low in the sky, bathing the whole street in gold, by the time you were ready to leave for trick-or-treating. Warren had gotten Mariposa’s little wooden wagon all ready for the occasion, filling it with blankets and all of her favorite stuffed animals. He was standing on the sidewalk with the wagon’s handle grasped in his hands, making conversation with Camila, who had come with Julia so the girls could trick-or-treat together. The little girl was dressed in a black dress, her face painted green and a pointed witch’s hat almost bigger than her perched on her head.

When Camila saw you and Mariposa coming down the steps she squealed, clapping her hands together in delight. “God, you guys are the cutest little family I’ve ever seen in my fucking life!”

“We are, aren’t we?” Warren asked, unabashedly checking you out as you walked over to them.

“Wait, let me take a picture of the three of you,” Cami ordered, motioning her hands so you would stand together. You snuggled into Warren’s side, and his hand snaked around your waist. He tickled the bottom of one of Mariposa’s little feet, causing her irresistible laugh to ring out in the air. The photo that Camila took then would quickly become one of your favorites; in it, Mariposa is perched on your hip, her little mouth wide in a toothless smile, eyes screwed shut with her laughter, you are looking straight at the camera, your smile scrunching the butterflies on your cheeks, making them look almost as if they’re flying, and Warren is looking down at you, love written on his face plain as the sun in the sky.

tag list: @eonnyx

#daisy jones and the six #djats #warren rhodes #warren rhodes x reader #warren rojas #warren rojas x reader #eddie roundtree #eddie loving #karen karen #karen sirko #billy dunne #graham dunne #camila dunne #julia dunne #daisy jones

316 notes · View notes

camelspit · 11 months

Text

holy shit! Its done! Ive worked on this for about a month and a half now? I think? Its a somewhat redo of this post from exactly a year ago :) I hope you like it !!!

(List of symbols below the cut. Slight warning: It's a bit long)

Biana

The bird earrings and the goldish triangles in the background are supposed to represent the vacker crest and how her family name is always sort-of looming over her.

The background could be interpreted as a mirror or stained glass. a mirror because of nightfall, and stained glass because it's the kind of rich people thing the vackers would have.

The cracks in the mirror are very faintly outlined in gold. It's supposed to sort of represent how the constant pressure to be perfect and "golden" kinda fucked up her and her family, especially with regards to Alvar.

The mix of teal and purple in the mirror and the roses is supposed to symbolize the constant fight between being herself and being who her family and the rest of elven society wants her to be.

The flowers are roses because something something Biana is pretty but definitely has thorns. She can hurt you.

The butterflies are actually there for multiple reasons! Theres the obvious, being that butterflies are beautiful. But they're beautiful because their colors come from camoflauge. They look pretty to hide from predators. Also, the belding in could go with her vanisher ability.

I know it's a bit unclear, but the squigglies beside the butterflies are supposed to be snakes! Snakes are dangerous, but you don't usually notice them until it's too late. They sneak up on you. Sort-of resembling how no one would suspect Biana of being dangerous, and how being a vanisher lets her sneak up on people.

Fitz

He has matching earrings with Biana. This is sort-of to go with the whole "family comes first" thing with the Vackers. The birds are also to represent the family crest! (You can also see the crest in the squares in the corners)

His color scheme has a lot more teal than Biana's did. This is mostly because of the two, the family legacy effected him more. He was always going to be the golden child. The one true Vacker kid.

The swords on the sides are supposes to sort of symbolize his fighting. He's been almost nonstop battle training for a lot of books now, and even got an actual sword in the ending of stellarlune.

The swords are wrapped in roses. It's supposed to represent Sophie, since the Ruewen crest has a rose. She is what made him realize that the elven world was really shitty, and that there's a better world worth fighting for.

The feathers beside the swords are also supposed to represent the bird in the family crest.

The scales at the top are because of mr.snuggles mostly. Dragons have scales, so i thought it'd be fun. They could also represent a snake skin, and how throughout the series he's been growing and changing.

Below the scales are little thorns. These were supposes to symbolize all the littlethings he's said and done to hurt others, even if it wasn't intentional. His anger is a protects him, just like thorns protect a rose.

In the top right corner, there's a circle with a broken heart inside. It's supposed to be his cognate ring, and all the drama that's happened with Sophie.

The objects above his shoulders are crowns! bc vacker royalty or whatever!!

There's a broken heart behind him. The most obvious comparison for this would be his relationship with Sophie, but it could also represent his connection to Alvar or Keefe. Honestly, it could represent his entire relationship with the Lost Cities.

Keefe

The black dripping down the circle in the background is supposed to be shadows + quintessence. It could go with the scene in Legacy where his abilities are activated, or just represent how his life has been slowly getting darker and darker. Everything being overshadowed by the Neverseen.

The heart in the middle of the darkness can either be his empath abilites or how he's still trying to be a good person, despite everything that's happened.

The candles are a tie in to the Sencen crest, hand holding a candle. They could also represent how everything that's happened to him over the course of the books is slowly burning him out, and yet he's still desperately trying to help, and be a light for his friends.

The shapes surrounding the circle could be eyes, to represent the neverseen, or the petals of a flower. The flower would be to represent life. He's still alive and he's still going despite everything. His entire life was built on Gisela'a dream for the neverseen and her own plans though, hence why the petals are eyes.

The flowers on his necklace are a tie-in to the flowet bead necklace he made for his mother when he was little.

The petals are in a sort-of gradient from white to green. This is supposed to symbolize all the shit that's happened in recent years, and all the deaths and sadness that have piled up. There's still a ring of white though, to represent that throughout this he's still the same person. That he's still a good person.

Only one of his eyes is showing, and it's wide open. It's supposed to look a bit like the neverseen symbol.

In his outfit, you can see little heart symbols in the pattern, because he's an empath.

In the very back, the mismatched stripes are sort-of supposed to be the chaos and confusion that sort of goes with his character. His entire life is a mystery that only Gisela knows, and it's been a mess trying to figure it out. He doesn't know who he is or really why he even exists.

His eye earring is supposed to go with the Neverseen, and his sun earring is supposed to symbolize Icarus.

Sophie

The little pattern on her outfit is supposed to look like moonlark feathers !

Her outfit is blue because like. Red is her color, canonically, but her whole thing is supposed to be going against whats expected of her and making changes, so! Blue.

I tried to make her hair like. sunrise-ish colors. Since shes sort of like? A new beginning for the Lost Cities? If that makes sense?

Her little hair part has the silhouette of hope.

The circle outline in the back is supposed to be the cognate ring.

The shapes surrounding the circle are little wolf claws, to go with her dire wolf Team Valiant symbol.

The stars inside the circle are supposed to be her three human family members, and then her star off to the side.

The three blood drops are supposed to be the three main deaths that have effected her. Kenric, Calla, and Forkle 1.

The three leaves outlining the circle are supposed to be Edaline, Grady, and Jolie. Something something theyre leaves because wanderlings and Jolie's death was all they could see before Sophie came to them.

The leaves are right next to the fire because Brant killed jolie with fire !

Fire in the bottom right corner because. Every single fucking thing that has happened to her regarding fire. (Also Fintan possibly being her dad)

There are 11 stripes in the top right corner for her 11 main friends.

The rose is supposed to be the rose in the Ruewen family crest.

The red stripes in the top left corner are supposed to sort of look like her inflicting lazers.

The feathers are swan feathers.

The white triangles in the bottom left corner are alicorn horns (hence the sparkles).

Dex

The 4 circles on his necklace are the triplets and him. The bottom one hanging down could be either Dex or Rex, I think.

His shirt is sort of funky? I wanted it to be a bit like Slurps-and-Burps, I guess. A tiny bit different from the others.

Stars on his shirt! For when he and Sophie went star-gazing for a homework assignment.

The branch in thr background is supposed to be from his wanderling.

Fire! Because of his whole thing with it bc. You know. Tortured by it and shit. Also, just in general, this series can't go five minutes without fire being mentioned. So.

The little oval above it is supposed to be a bit linke a finger print? Because he still has that mark from when he got tortured. It was also supposed to look a bit like a sand dollar, because he got kidnapped on the beach.

Swan at the top! (It doesn't look much like a swan bc I did it with no reference. :()

It has a green eye because Neverseen! And how they've caused all this death and shit in his life.

Theres a gear at the top because he's a technopath.

In the back it's a bit hard to see but. There are little lines throughout thr black spaces. They were supposed to look a bit like wires. Technopath.

The circle inside the gear is supposed to be his Team Valiant gem, in his circlet.

Three water drops for the triplets.

Theres water at the bottom, partly because of the beach where he got snatched, but also partly because of like. His somewhat melting relationship with his mom after the Black Swan reveal? Since shes a Froster.

Behind the drops there's five stripes, to represent his whole family.

Idk theres a lot of family symbolism in this because its like? Such an important part of his character? Their reputation is what makes up so much of his motivations, especially in the earlier books.

Marella

Her hair was supposed to look a bit like fire.

Fire shapes on her outfit.

She has a little heart pin on her outfit because of her earlier ambitions to be an empath.

Eyes on her necklace for the neverseen. The orange triangles are for fire and thr blue ovals are for water. Because of her training practice with Linh.

The 3 dots on either side of her outfit are for the other three horsegirls of the apocolypse. Linh, Maruca, and Stina.

The wrinkles on her sleeves were also supposed to look a bit like fire? Not sure how well that worked out though.

There are 5 stars on her earrings to represent the five pyrokinetics deaths that caused the ban on her ability. They're stars bc her name means star of the sea.

The pink/yellow/blue stipe on the left is supposed to represent the torch she had in the ending of stellarlune, bc those are the colors is turned.

Exillium beads above the stripes to represent her relationship with Linh and how she was angry that Sophie didn't ask her to come with her in Neverseen.

The waves above the beads are supposed to tie into her "star of the sea" name.

Above that is Fintan's ear :). The moon earring hanging down is supposed to be like, controlling the waves? And they're supposed to represent Marella's name so it's like. Fintan manipulating her during their training sessions.

The sun at the very top because like. fire. sun.

Little wind at the top right corner for her dad, Durand, whose a guster.

The shape on the right is the balcony that her mom fell off.

The vines growing up it are supposed to sort of represent death? Her mother didn't die, but I'd assume they probably mourned her a bit like they did with Alden. She's not totally gone but she'll never be the same as she once was.

Theres a salamander climbing up the balcony because of the myth that they're immune to fire, and how pyrokinetics are supposedly immune to fire but can still be effected by everblaze. If that makes sense?

There are little yellow dots scattered throughout the background that are supposed to be like. Little sparks from fire.

Linh

She has a moon earring to sort of represent control over waves and shit.

Same thing goes for the moon above her head!

Her registry pendant is like? Simpler? Compared to the others, since she was banished and all that.

Dots on her outfit are exillium beads if it wasnt clear. :)

The symbol on her jacket (?) are rainclouds.

The lines on her sleeves are supposed to look like rivers.

Purple handprint in the background because of her exillium placing.

The stairs behind it are supposed to be the stairs at Tiergan's house. There are 6, one for each person who lived there at some point.

The little red/blue drops and sea are like. The blood slowly turning into water/ her taking control over her ability.

It could also be all the ogres she probably killed when she flooded Ravagog.

The 6 stars beside the moon are to represent all the Endal-Alenfars.

The darker star is Rayni.

The plants at the top are supposed to sort of represent the gnomes they lived with. They make a dome shape, to sort of symbolize the dome surrounding Atlantis.

The flowers at the ends of the vines(?) are supposed to represent her and Tam.

The cattails at the very top are because they grow near water and Linh had to grow up near the water, even though she couldn't control it yet because of her parents.

The dragonfly was Diras idea :)

The purple and red in the background is sort of like. Who she was at exillium and in general (sweet, helpful, whatever, etc.) vs like. That darker part of her that flooded Ravagog.

Tam

He has a sun earring to sort of parallel Linh's moon. The sun has like. A bit to do with shadows if I remember 4th grade science well enough.

Exillium beads on his outfit :)

He's wearing the Endal crest because like. I think they're more important than his actual family will ever be. (It also annoys me a tiny bit that him and Linh are wearing the Song crest in almost all of their official art.)

He and Linh have the same like. Set of earrings. One gold and one silver.

Like Linh, his registry pendant is also simpler compared to the others.

The blue/black color scheme on his outfit is supposed to sort of go with him and Linh's ability colors.

Two buttons on his outfit for him and Linh.

Behind him is a shadow, to go with his ability. There are also like. Smaller shadows throughout.

Above the shadow's head is a crown. It's supposed to be the one from Legacy, when Tam had to blast Keefe.

Above him are like. 2 stars and 4 little dots. The stars are him and Linh, and the rest are the other Endal-Alenfars.

The line in the middle is supposed to represent his ambi placing in Exillium.

The top right corner is Eternalia/ the Tribunal Hall, where Linh got banished.

The top left is Exillium.

The sky like? Gets a bits brighter as it transitions from the Tribunal to Exillium to sort of represent how they were more free? I guess? Even if it wasn't ideal, they were away from their parents and they had power over their lives at least a bit.

The bottom right is the river that they lived beside in book 4 that Linh parted for them.

Beside the river are little pebbles in sets of twos for Tam and Linh.

In the bottom left is the staircase to Tiergans house.

Around the line in the middle are little flowers. From left to right they represent: Wylie, Rayni, Tiergan, Prentice, and Linh.

and that is the end of the list 👍 thank god

Tag list:

@skylilac @callas-pancake-tree @arson-anarchy-death @steal-nightmares-leave-dreams @abubble125 @purplesoup-lad-le @gay-otlc @thefoxysnake @keeper-of-the-lost-dadwin @remember-me-in-another-time @kamikothe1and0lny @you-have-been-frizzled @presidentroarie @cowboypossume @even-if-in-another-time @that-glasses-dog @slozhnos @treehouse-arson @lemon-girl-in-devil-town @three-bunnies-in-a-trenchcoat @purpleunicycle @frogs-and-flowers-and-faeries @unidentifiedimp @florida-preposterously @stopstealingtomatoes

#Maybe ill do the other 4 sometime later :)#But i was actively dying and couldnt get this done on time if i did them.#So we'll wait and see! If I do them it will probably be much later #Seriously hope you guys like this! My blood sweat and tears went into it #i dont think ive ever done something this big before.#Happy pride btw!! :D #kotlc fanart #Sophie foster #Keefe sencen #Fitz vacker #Biana vacker #Tam song #Linh song #Marella Redek #Dex dizznee #Kotlc

199 notes · View notes

lila-rose · 3 months

Text

This story is dedicated to @sydnikov as part of the 2K24 Winter Fic Exchange. I apologize if it's not precisely what you wanted, Sydney. The story initially was much longer and had Jack getting injured and reconnecting with his ex-girlfriend. But I think I overdid myself and ran into some GI issues that may be exacerbated by stress. As a result, I was forced to cut things short. I also apologize if Jack or the Devils seem out of character. I had never written to them before, so I had to take a shot in the dark.

Pairing: Jack Hughes x OFC

Words: 11.5K

Additional Tags: @aqueersouthofthemasondixonline @kurlyteuvo @callsign-denmark @behoright @likegoinghome @wyattjohnston

"Looking at me. Naw, come get it. Like what you see then you have good vision. Boy, this beat was so different. Let me show you what you've been missing," Maisy sang to her reflection in the mirror, using her nude lipstick as a makeshift microphone.

K/DA's beat reverberated throughout the white tile bathroom from an iPhone speaker buried underneath the mountain of cosmetics spread across the marble countertop. Mascara and cleanser leaked out carelessly screwed tops, creating a disgusting mosaic that undoubtedly needed to be cleaned and disinfected at some point. But only two things mattered to Maisy then: perfecting her makeup and stopping the butterflies in her stomach. After Ahri, Akali, Evelynn, and Kai'Sa reached their chorus, she returned to reality and painted the deep beige tint over her lips.

Her phone vibrated with a notification somewhere underneath her morning routine disaster. Digging through, she saw a glimpse of her white and gold phone case, which suffered collateral damage from her blush.

"Aww, shit!" Maisy cursed, wiping off the powder with an old towel and hoping she wouldn't have to dig anything out of the tiniest crook and cranny. Once the phone was clean again, she swiped down on her notifications and realized she had a text message from her father.

Dad Sent at 8:15 am I can't believe you're starting your first day with the Devils. It seemed like only yesterday that I was taking you to your first game. Best of luck, Mae. I love you!

Tears threatened to spill over Maisy's cheeks and ruin her makeup as she reminisced about her first hockey match and the photographer who was kind enough to immortalize the day. As autumn arrived in Newark, a chill permeated the air, and the verdant foliage surrounding the Pearson family home had long since turned burgundy and orange. Maisy sat at the kitchen table, stuffing her face full of cucumbers and trying to unscramble words for her first-grade homework. Her mother, a beautiful woman with waist-length chestnut hair, stood and julienned vegetables over the kitchen sink. From the driveway, a pair of headlights from a black Honda shined through the kitchen window, causing Mrs. Pearson to lift her forest-green eyes from her work.

"It looks like Daddy's home," she said over her shoulder to Maisy, who paid her mother no mind.

Within minutes, a dark-haired man dressed in a stuffy gray suit and a Prudential Financial computer case over his shoulder entered the home. Before stepping into the kitchen, he placed his keys in a catch-all tray in the mudroom entrance and his black loafers into the shoe rack. "Hi, Girls!" he greeted.

Mr. Pearson shared a kiss with his wife before turning his attention to his daughter. "How was school, Mae-Mae?"

"It was fun. Did you know that the Pilgrims first sailed here on a ship?"

"I did. They came here on the Mayflower. Maybe we should start calling you Mayflower!" Mr. Pearson jokes, patting Maisy on her chestnut hair. "But I have something that you may like."

Maisy climbed out of her chair to face her father, who placed his work bag on the ground and began to search through the pockets. After a few moments, Mr. Pearson produced an official envelope from Prudential with his name on the front and handed it to his little girl with a soft smile. Maisy did her best to open the envelope with her tiny fingers and pulled out a pair of red and black tickets to see the New Jersey Devils in the company's private suite at their eponymous arena in the Central Ward.

"What do you think? Do you want to go?" Mr. Pearson asked.

Maisy clutched the tickets to her chest and spread her lips into a large grin. "Yes, please!"

"Alright. It's not for a couple of days. But I'll pick you up from school, and we'll have a blast," Mr. Pearson replied before heading up the stairs to change out of his work clothes.

Mr. Pearson graduated with his Bachelor's and professional degree from Rutgers University and chose to dedicate his Juris Doctorate to Prudential. Most days, he would look over corporate contracts and occasionally had to persuade his bosses that Karen did not have grounds for a lawsuit because Brenda in Customer Service refused to transfer a call to her supervisor. But working for an insurance giant that was successful enough to buy the naming rights to an NHL stadium had its perks. Mr. Pearson had a few decorations in his office to bring life to its dull corporate atmosphere, including a picture of his wife and daughter and some artwork Maisy brought home from school. But the most helpful thing hanging in the office, by far, was the Devils' schedule.

Being only a few minutes down the road from the Rutgers campus, the Prudential Center, named the Continental Airlines Arena at the time, provided quick and accessible entertainment for the college-age Mr. Pearson and his roommates. They could typically scrape a few dollars together and secure decent seats to watch the Devils, and the boys in red have been a staple in his life ever since. A large flat-screen TV hung in his office, where he could watch his games if he ever needed to bring work home or if he wanted to free up the television in the den for his wife and daughter.

Occasionally, little Maisy would turn the ornate, brass doorknob to the office and poke her little head in. If Mr. Pearson weren't busy, he would allow Maisy to sit on the small black leather couch and turn the screen so they could watch the game together. Maisy would fixate her light brown eyes on the TV and watch the players go up and down the ice. She tried her best to understand what was occurring on the ice; sometimes, she would have to stop and ask her father to clarify something, which he did in the simplest way possible. Regardless, she soon began to understand the game using cues on when her father would cheer and when her father would boo. Mr. Pearson would look back over his shoulder with a smile and a sparkle in his eye as he saw his daughter enjoying something that had brought him so much catharsis over the years. It soon became their father-daughter activity to sit in the home office and watch the Devils games whenever their schedules permitted.

On the game day, Maisy and Mrs. Pearson woke up early to select an outfit for the game. They settled on a beautiful little dress with a black top and red polka-a-dots, and a red bow fastened on Maisy's right hip held a piece of tulle fabric over her matching skirt. For her hair, Maisy requested to divide her locks into pigtails with red and black hair bobbles. And as for her shoes, she selected a pair of sparkly black Mary Janes.

Maisy was the talk of her class that day. Many of her classmates approached her and asked why she dressed up, to which Maisy proudly proclaimed that she and her father were planning to see a Devils game later that evening. A few peers groaned as the teacher instructed everyone to take their seats. Whatever the lesson was that day, Maisy couldn't tell you because the teacher's voice seemed to fade into the background as she eagerly awaited for the clock to strike three. She watched the thin, black, minute hand agonizingly tick away above the classroom door. Every once in a while, she would try to divert her attention to their colorful classroom or the worksheet her teacher handed out as the daily assignment to make the time go by faster, but her eyes always found a way back to the clock itself.

Eventually, her suffering subsided as the school bell, at long last, rang its jarring melody, causing the school children to break into an excited cacophony as they rushed into the halls. Maisy did her best to dodge her way past her classmates as she clutched her bag to her shoulders and ran out the door. Stepping out onto the cement stoa, she found her father standing before her, smiling and waving as promised.

Father and daughter had to make a stop home for Mr. Pearson to throw on his old Martin Brodeur jersey that he kept for an occasion like this and explain their plan for the evening to Mrs. Pearson. Once they settled everything, the twosome climbed back into the car for dinner.

They traveled to a charming little American-style dinner on Broad Street down the road from the stadium. It sat in a small brick building with a red awning out front with the name Broad Street Tavern written in bold, white letters. What the restaurant lacked in curbside appeal, it made up for in its interior design. Several patrons sat at the metal bar and the reclaimed wood tables, enjoying a hamburger or other American fare by a roaring fire.

A waitress approached Mr. Pearson and Maisy within minutes of entering and led them to their table with a pair of menus. Due to the special occasion, Mr. Pearson allowed Maisy to indulge, getting her whatever entree she wanted and some ice cream. He quizzed Maisy on her hockey knowledge while dipping his French fries into her hot fudge sundae. Maisy, at first, wrinkled her nose at her Dad's strange eating habits. However, after some coaxing, she finally acquiesced and dipped a French fry into her chocolate ice cream, discovering for the first time the delectable balance of sweet and salty that she still sometimes enjoys almost twenty years later.

After they had filled their bellies, Mr. Pearson and Maisy headed to the Prudential Center. They used the parking garage tucked away at the end of the arena where VIP ticket holders — or anyone willing to spend $40 to park their car — could spare themselves from a long walk in the chill New Jersey climate. Maisy grabbed her Dad's hand and followed him to a large entrance decorated with portraits of the Devils, where her Dad handed their distinctive tickets to the usher. The woman dressed in red and black looked at the tickets, smiled and nodded, and opened the doors for Maisy and her dad.

The two walked the glass walkway that led to the luxury suites, high above the regular ticket holders mulling about through the concourse, exploring and buying their stadium food for the game while they waited for the game to start. Maisy turned her head and stared at the sea of people down below and, for once, felt grateful that her father's profession prevented her from getting lost in that nightmare.

It only took a minute or two for Mr. Pearson to reach the private concourse reserved for the suites, and it was evident that anyone willing to shell out the cash for a bit more privacy would get what they paid for. A chef in a white coat sliced meat under a heat lamp while their colleagues ran behind them, putting ingredients on the grill or in the fryer and ensuring the grab-and-go counters were well stocked. Several pairs of tables and chairs sat in a semi-enclosed eating area and faced large screen TVs, allowing whoever was hungry to follow the action on the ice without missing anything. The floor also contained multiple comfy couches and armchairs interspersed with Devils memorabilia, stretching back to their run as the Kansas City Scouts in 1974.

Maisy's mouth fell open slightly as she looked around at the luxury the piazza offered. She was so surprised she couldn't hear her father calling her name.

"What do you think, Maisy?" Mr. Pearson asked, shaking his daughter’s hand to get her attention. "Do you like it?"

But a shocked Maisy could only nod, causing her father to let out an audible laugh.

"Well, we probably won't be able to sit here all the time. But if you ever want to go again, I could pull some strings. C'mon, let's go find our suite!" Mr. Pearson said as he escorted his daughter down the hall.

There was one other perk of being a Prudential employee: the CEO's suite. The company designed it when it first purchased the naming rights to the stadium in 2007. It wanted a place to impress some of its more affluent clients. But sometimes, they were generous enough to allow their workers to use the room for private parties or to take their daughter to their first hockey game. The space was about the size of a single-bedroom apartment and several rows of padded seats near a sliding glass window. In the back was a small dining area with a fridge and a countertop well-stocked with snacks, drinks, and anything the patrons needed.

But to six-year-old Maisy, it wouldn't matter if her father and his bosses treated her like the princess of the world. What mattered was that she could finally enjoy something that had brought her and her father together outside the four walls of the family's home office.

During the intermission, Mr. Pearson had brought Maisy down to the regular concourse to visit the Devils Den to pick something up for his daughter to commemorate her first NHL game. She selected a small red and black teddy bear, whom she promptly named NJ after the team's mascot. There was still some time left before the second period, and Mr. Pearson inquired from Maisy whether she wanted to stay on the regular concourse or go up to the private suite.

Maisy tilted her head and stared into the distance, weighing her two options. On the one hand, returning to the private suite would rescue her from dealing with the crowds of people wandering outside the store. But on the other hand, she never knew what she would find if she did explore.

After thinking, Maisy looked up at her Dad and excitedly announced, "Let's go explore!"

Mr. Pearson nodded and led his daughter back out and into the congregation of fans. The main concourse was not as nice as the private concourse. Maisy held tight onto her father's hand as endless lines of people seemed to pass, chatting about the first period. Others stood around with beers in their hands or waited in a long concession lines for the second period. Despite clinging to her Dad as close as possible, Maisy couldn't help but take in the sights and smells of a Devils game. She scanned the large murals covering the walls and turned her ears to pick up on what some of the grown-ups were saying about the game for posterity.

During their walk, the two encountered a pair of Devils staff holding cameras next to a backdrop.

"Daddy, let's take a picture for Mommy!" Maisy stated as she dragged her father over to the photo booth.

"Say cheese!" instructed the photographer once the two had selected a background for their snapshot.

Maisy couldn't have known then, but that game was pivotal in her life. Watching the match from the CEO's suite was such a magical experience that Maisy resolved to grow up and work for the Devils to help recreate the same happiness for the later generations of fans. She wanted to become precisely like that photographer who had helped her enshrine the start of her journey.

Returning to the present, Maisy shifted her gaze from the picture to her face in the mirror and smiled, reminiscing about all the hard work that went into bringing her to this moment — her summer job at the Den, internships at the Newark Museum of Art, position on the Rutgers women's ice hockey team, and Bachelor's in Fine Arts. It led to this moment where Maisy would walk proudly into the Prudential, not as a fan but as an employee.

She stopped the playlist on her phone, which had long moved on to Fifth Harmony, and began addressing her bathroom calamity. Re-screwing the caps, Maisy collected everything and dumped it into an acrylic bin sitting on the free-standing bookshelf next to the counter before wiping down the countertop with some disinfectant. She took a step back to look over her work once everything was spotless and mentally scolded herself that, as a recent college graduate, she did not precisely have the money to risk losing her security deposit because she fixated on making herself look beautiful rather than taking care of her apartment.

Domiciled a block away from the Prudential Center, Maisy didn't have to go far to get to her new place of employment. She could see the arena from her apartment window. She spent many nights reading about daguerreotypes and the works of Adams and Cartier-Bresson for her courses, listening to the faint sound of the goal horn from the stadium and dreaming of the day she could proudly proclaim herself as one of their photographers. It would only take a few-minute walk and a couple of left turns to get to work, so Maisy looked over her outfit and belongings to ensure she had everything ready for her first day.

The clothes she selected for the day were a change from the skirts and sweaters she wore during her college days. When the call came in from the Director of Human Resources that Maisy had gotten the job, her best friends immediately took her over the river into New York City to buy her several outfits that would make her look more professional. She didn't exactly know what kind of work attire the Devils' creative teams wore, so she opted for an outfit that was both professional and casual by using a dark blue pants suit, a matching blue and off-white striped sweater, minimalist brown belt, and a pair of off-white slip-ons. Looking over herself in the bedroom, Maisy let out a relieved sigh upon seeing that her work outfit was devoid of makeup, strings, or tears.

"Lenses … check … Filters … check … Memory card … check … " she mumbled as she looked over all the slots in her camera bag. Everything seemed to be coming together, but not even that idea could assuage the butterflies flying around her stomach.

She checked her phone and realized it was finally time to face the fire. It was time to head over to the Prudential Center. "You have this, Mace. You already have the job, and the only way that you could fuck it up is if you take bad photographs. But you can't take bad photographs, can you? I mean, you could if you wanted to. But you don't because you went to Rutgers, one of the most prestigious schools in America, for your Bachelor's in Art."

Maisy continued her pep-talk as she fetched her black woolen overcoat from her hall closet and swung her work and camera bags over her back and shoulder. She stepped out in the hallway, locked her apartment with her keyfob, and pushed the down button on the elevator. Thankfully, since most people would be at work by 9:00 am, there wasn't anyone around to listen to Maisy’s endless monologue. The elevator arrived at the ninth floor with a ding and opened its doors, allowing Maisy to enter onto its tiled floor. She requested the lobby and gently began to rock on her toes as she watched the screen go from nine to eight to seven and so forth. Some of her wished the elevator would get stuck somewhere during the ride down and it would take the Newark Fire Department several hours to get her out. But alas, the lift did its job and brought Maisy to the lobby.

Maisy exited the elevator and readjusted her bags before heading towards the door. A young woman in an indigo suit, paying homage to the name of the apartment building, stood behind a dark gray modern desk, typing away at her computer.

"Have a good day, Maisy!" the front desk woman said with a wave. "Best of luck with the new job!"

A nervous Maisy gave her a friendly wave in return as she left the building. Buttoning up her coat, she took off down Broad Street, where the Devils' Creative Director promised he would be waiting to let her into the Staff entrance. She did her best to meander down the sidewalk, trying to slow her gait. However, as she neared the arena, she saw a glimpse of a tall, dark-haired gentleman wearing a pair of khaki dress pants and a black Devils pullover. He stood before a large black door with a matching metal marquee above that read STAFF in large, white letters. There was only one option for who this person could be: the Creative Director.

Maisy took one last deep breath and plastered a large smile, attempting to hide her anxiety as she approached the man. "Hi, Mr. Gambiano!"

"Please, call me Nick. You're part of the Creative team now, and we're nowhere near as fussy as the Front Office or Legal. We all operate on a first-name basis," the man responded.

"Right. I'm sorry, Nick. I'm ready for my first day of work."

"Sounds good. Come with me, and I'll introduce you to everyone!"

Nick produced a keycard from his pocket and swiped it on the scanner to keep the staff entrance locked away from unwanted visitors. The box beeped, turned its light green, and opened the door with a click, allowing Nick to pull.

"Ladies first!" he joked, gesturing for Maisy to enter.

The entrance led into a bleak white stone hallway that desperately needed some decorations. Only an old, framed corkboard with various notices hanging from it decorated the walls. On either side, several large gray doors stood, leading to different offices. Nick gently bypassed Maisy and stopped at the door frame to her right, conversing with whoever was inside.

"Maisy, c'mere. I want to introduce you to our security team," he explained.

Maisy poked her head around the corner and looked into the office. To the security team's credit, they did their best to brighten up their austere surroundings with pictures and other posters. Two men sat in front of desks with multiple computer screens with security footage from several places in the building, from the entry gates to the concourse. A few others enjoyed a quick breakfast or coffee to begin their workday at the small kitchenette. Everyone lifted their gazes and greeted Maisy with a friendly smile, welcoming her to the Devils' crew and promising they would get her a security badge by the end of the day. In the meantime, she could use a guest keycard that would allow her to get into various other parts of the arena, such as the tunnel and the employee elevator.

One by one, Nick and Maisy visited each door in the hallway, meeting the departments that kept the Prudential Center up and running, such as the Facilities Management Team and Groundskeeping and Landscaping. Maisy's shoulders drooped, and her gaze softened with each pleasant face she met, discrediting her fears that morning and finally settling the butterflies in her stomach. Once the two greeted everyone correctly, Nick led Maisy to a massive red freight elevator at the end of the hall.

"This is the maintenance elevator," Nick explained as the cage doors opened, allowing himself and Maisy to enter. "I don't take it too much because you never know when someone needs to bring down a large delivery. There's another one up the stairs that's a bit nicer. But this one is closer, so I thought we could use it for convenience." He placed his keycard on another reader and pushed the button for the seventh floor.

Upon arrival, the two stepped into a large, colorful open area. There were no designated offices on this particular floor. Still, it was evident that the employees who worked there all had their areas, given the eccentric collection of mismatched furniture. Various people mulled about, checking the broadcast equipment, discussing the season's social media strategy, and designing their graphic design templates.

"This is the Broadcast Floor," explained Nick. "All of the team's creative and social media specialists work here — social media, graphic design, broadcast, radio, and photographers, like you, Maisy."

He wandered deeper into the floor, taking time to say hi to some of his colleagues, with Maisy in tow. Unlike the departments working in the basement, few paid Maisy any mind. Some would give her a quick smile or nod before returning to their work. Maisy allowed their quietness to roll off her shoulders because she knew how annoying it could be to arrange an artistic vision and have someone constantly interrupt you with trivial things. Eventually, Nick and Maisy arrived at a group of people moving various graphic elements into place to create distressed posters of the Devils.

Nick cleared his throat, capturing the team's attention. "Everyone, this is Maisy. She's the Junior Photographer for the season. I expect you all to make her feel welcome."

"It's nice to meet you, Maisy," a thin, gray-haired man with angular features said, standing up from where he was fiddling with his camera and filters. "My name is Thomas, and I'm the photography director for the team. I will be helping you get acclimated to the job. Why don't you sit while we wait for Human Resources?"

Maisy shook Thom's hand, taking the empty seat next to him. She watched as he popped out a memory card from his camera, entered it into one of the USB drives on a nearby computer, and pulled up a project the team had been working on. The piece featured a distressed photo of Nico, edited to look like he was gritty and exhausted, standing in a sea of water in a raging storm.

"Wow, that's pretty cool!" Maisy complimented.

"Thank you!" replied Thom. "The theme that we went with this season is resilience. The guys gave it their all during last season's Playoffs. As a result, we wanted to message the other teams that, come hell or high water, New Jersey will persevere.

Together, Maisy and Thom walked through the proper steps of helping the Graphic Design team make artwork for the club's social media teams, from tips and tricks for getting the best shots of the players in the Prudential Center to uploading those photos to the company computers. After some time, a stuffy woman dressed in a business outfit strode to the group.

"Are you Ms. Pearson?" the woman inquired from Maisy.

"Yes?"

"I'm from Human Resources. Follow me, and I'll help you complete your paperwork."

"Don't worry. HR is a lot scarier than it looks. Just don't do anything reckless," Thom muttered to Maisy.

Some other Graphic Design members overheard Thom’s instructions and giggled as Maisy grabbed a folder of essential documents from her tote. She slowly rose from her chair, trying to avoid eye contact with the HR lady, who glared at the laughing bunch from behind her wire-framed glasses with pursed lips. Maisy silently followed the woman toward the employee elevator that Nick referenced earlier. It wasn't much smaller than the freight elevator in the basement. But Maisy still found herself fidgeting and clearing her throat, doing whatever she could to alleviate the deathly silence that permeated the air between her and the HR person.

A few minutes later, the lift finally arrived a few floors below, and Maisy stepped onto carpet. A gray plaque on the far plaster wall offered directions to three separate offices: the Legal Department was to the right, the Front Office staff was straight ahead, and to the left was Human Resources. She followed the stuffy HR lady into her corresponding office, where multiple employees kept their noses in their work, not even giving her the time of day. Eventually, Maisy and the woman arrived at an average-looking conference room with a medium-sized circular table and multiple black leather swivel chairs arranged around it.

"Have a seat," the HR woman instructed, taking a seat and readjusting the glasses on her face.

Maisy followed her instructions and took the nearest chair. She opened her folder of essential documents, such as a copy of her social security card and passport, and folded her hands in her lap, not wanting to show any signs of trouble.

Despite her appearance, the HR lady was reticent but polite, walking Maisy through her W-4 and Payroll information and answering any questions Maisy may have about the job expectations and benefits. When the HR woman concluded everything, Maisy shook her hand and stepped back into the Human Resources offices. An analog clock on the wall read that it was half past ten, meaning the players should arrive shortly for practice. Wanting to make a good impression, Maisy returned to the Broadcast Floor and scooped up her camera backpack from the corner of Thom's desk, where she left it for safekeeping.

"Would it be alright if I head down to the tunnel?" Maisy inquired.

Thom lifted his head from the digital album of player portraits the team had taken several days earlier. "I don't see why not! All you have to do is hop back onto the elevator and push the R button for the rink."

Maisy nodded and threw her backpack onto her shoulders. Upon reaching the tunnel, the elevator doors opened to a long, intimidating hallway. It resembled the basement connected to the staff entrance with its white-stone walls, several stick racks, and equipment bins pushed to the side. Memories flooded Maisy's mind as she recalled the few times she got to greet the Devils as they walked down onto the ice. They were once her idols and played a critical part in how she shaped the early years of her adult life. But now, these same men were her co-workers, and this was her place of employment.

Several Bauer sticks stood in one of the racks, waiting for the team to arrive. Maisy bit her lip and looked in both directions but saw no one. It would hurt for her to have one little touch, would it? Just one touch?

"Hey, what do you think you're doing!?" a tenor voice exclaimed.

A red and black glove caught Maisy's wrist before she laid a finger on the twig and pulled it back. Her eye drifted upward to see his slightly tan, youthful features. His face had a stern expression, but his gray eyes did not show malice toward Maisy. Several strands of his shoulder-length hair poked out from his matching red helmet.

"I asked you a question," the young man said, lowering his voice. He moved his face closer until his pink lips were only a few inches from Maisy's.

Maisy's eyes grew wide as the tiniest wisp of his body spray flooded her senses. She wanted nothing more than to free her arm from the man's grasp and try to stop the blood flowing to her cheeks, but his hand remained firm on her forearm. "You … you're…" she stammered, trying to ignore the growing lump in her throat.

"Yes, I'm Jack Hughes, and you need to answer my question. Who are you, and what are you doing here?"

"Maisy. Girl. Newest junior photographer for the New Jersey Devils."

"Do you have anything to back up your claim?"

Jack let go of Maisy's wrist to allow her to reach for any proof. She gently removed the black security lanyard from around her neck and handed it to him.

He flipped the card back and forth, scanning the plastic piece for spelling errors or other inconsistencies. "This is pretty good. You girls are getting good at replicating these things," Jack finally said.

"It's not fake, jackass. I got it from the Security te一"

"Ms. Pearson?"

Maisy and Jack turned their attention to the source of the new voice, one of the security guards. He looked between the two before clearing his throat and continuing, "I wanted to come and bring you your official security badge. Nick said that you would be down here."

"Yes, of course. Thank you so much for bringing it all this way," Maisy replied, turning and smirking at Jack. She yanked the guest keycard out of his hand without resistance and returned it to the guard. "I greatly appreciate it!"

"So … you do work here?" Jack asked Maisy, who exchanged a wave goodbye with the man.

"Yeah, that's what I just said about five minutes ago," stated Maisy.

An uncomfortable Jack shifted on his blades and rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you or anything. We've had problems in the past of psycho fans making homemade security cards and using them to get into off-limit places like our locker room."

"Like the fabled underwear thief?"

"How did you know about that?"

"It was all over Devils Twitter a few years ago."

"That was one awkward meeting with the Front Office. But yeah, just like the girl who broke into our belongings and stole our underwear during games."

"I can't fault you for being suspicious. Even though it was impressive that the underwear thief managed to elude the Devils for several weeks, it wasn't fair that you had your privacy violated. Not everyone understands the boundary between fantasy and reality. I would've done the same thing if I saw some random girl I had never seen before wandering the tunnel."

"Thank you for understanding. Let's try starting over now. I'm Jack." He tucked one of his gloves under his arm to free a hand and extended it.

"Maisy!" she responded with a shake.

One by one, the Devils slowly wandered into the rink for practice. A few of them stopped upon entering the hallway to take notice of Maisy, exchanging gentle whispers amongst themselves as they observed how relaxed Jack looked while conversing with her. The elder Hughes was not known for idling when a big game was approaching. Though it was still the pre-season, the Devils needed to use this crucial time to perfect every little aspect of their play, mainly if they wanted to make it to late April. Their match against their rivals in Southern New Jersey, the Philadelphia Flyers, went splendidly, with the Devils winning against Philadelphia in a surprising 6-0 shutout. Everyone seemed eager to get their blades dirty after the team fought so hard to make it to the second round of the 2023 Playoffs but tragically lost to the Hurricanes in overtime. Their passing and puck handling were almost flawless, and the Flyers never seemed to be able to get comfortable anywhere on the ice.

But New Jersey had little time to celebrate because the league scheduled them to face their cross-river rivals, the New York Rangers, in a few days. During the 2022-23 season, the Devils kept the Rangers mostly at bay, finishing five points ahead of New York. The team also rallied to return from several multi-point losses during the postseason to close the series and move on to the next round. Undoubtedly, the Rangers would be just as eager to prove to the Devils and the rest of the league that they grew from their mistakes.

"I should get going," stated Jack, looking over his shoulder and realizing that Ruff and most coaches and players had arrived. "But it was nice to meet you, Maisy."

"Likewise," Maisy responded. "Best of luck with practice. I'll be sure to take some wonderful pictures for you."

Jack walked down to the end of the tunnel where Luke was waiting for him, while Maisy wandered in the other direction to the photographer’s hole. The Devils did not know who the Rangers would start in their goal. But because professional ice hockey also involved a few mind games, they practiced as if Laviolette would start Shesterkin by working in three groups to set Daws and Vanecek off-balance and try to get the puck into the net. Everyone lined up at middle ice with Jack and several forwards near the left wall, another line of forwards at center ice, and the defensemen waiting on the other side. At Ruff's whistle, two forwards and a defenseman would start skating down the ice as their teammates moved down the queue.

Jack glided down the line as his teammates ran through the drill. Each time he arrived at his new spot, his eyes would drift over to Maisy, who stood on the rink floor, talking to the photography director and taking snapshots of the team. Nico tried several times to start a conversation, but Jack responded with an affirmative grunt and forced his friend's voice to the back of his mind. He tried searching for a reason to explain why he felt so enamored with a woman he only met almost an hour earlier. Perhaps she wasn't like the other girls who flocked to him as a professional hockey player or that she stood up to him. Whatever the reason, he knew he didn’t want this to be the last time he saw her.

Suddenly, Jack felt the sting of Nico's stick blade against his calf. "Ow! What was that for?" he yelled, recoiling his leg.

"GO!" Nico shouted, pointing down the ice with his stick.

Jack followed the direction of the twig and realized that the second forward and his brother were already well into the offensive zone and prepared to take a shot on Daws. He skated as fast as he could to catch up with his teammates as Daws slid back and forth across his crease, attempting to anticipate where the puck would come from. In a moment of synchronicity, Jack, Luke, and the second forward realized that Daws failed to see Jack joining the action, giving them the opening they needed. Luke passed the puck to Jack, who tucked the puck into the back of the net under Daws' flank. As the attacking trio returned to their cheering lines, Daws fell on his side with his legs in the air. Players came and went until the coaches noticed a pattern of success with their current goaltender. At this point, Ruff blew his whistle for Vanecek to replace his partner. Vanecek took one last sip from his water bottle before placing his helmet on his head and giving a friendly blocker bump as he made his way to the pipes. Once Vanecek prepared himself and the coaches set up the puck back at center ice, Ruff blew his whistle again to complete the exercise a second time.

Like with Daws, the players went through their routine of trying to get the biscuit past their goalie, except this time, Jack was a bit more attentive to his place in line lest he wanted to face the wooden wrath of his captain again. Practice continued as planned until the team felt more prepared to face the Rangers, working on their shooting and defending against New York's robust checks. Eventually, practice slowed to a trickle until the players started mulling about and holding friendly competitions between themselves, such as seeing how many times they could bounce a puck on their sticks before it fell to the ice.

After noticing that his players were getting tired, Ruff blew one last whistle. "Alright, that's enough!" he called out. "Everyone, gather around!"

Jack, Nico, Luke, and several others skated over and took a knee before Ruff while the rest of the team remained standing. They listened intently as the head coach congratulated them on successful practice and reminded them that Rangers had everything to give when they met New Jersey in Newark for the first time since their elimination. A loss would not count against their record, but the Devils could still not afford to undo all their progress during the off-season and the first pre-season games. They needed to match the Rangers at every corner of the ice. But for now, the team deserved several days of rest to recuperate and reflect on the lessons they learned during today's practice to prepare themselves physically and mentally for their game in a few days.

Ruff dismissed the team, and Jack immediately rushed into the tunnel without a second thought. Perhaps it looked strange to his teammates, but he wanted to be the first in and out of the locker room to catch Maisy one last time before heading home. He flew into the room and immediately began to unlace his skates, stripping himself down to his jock before rushing into the showers with his post-practice clothes. Doing his best not to trip over the bathroom tile, he selected a few bare essentials 一 shampoo, soap, washcloth, and towel 一 set out by the Wellness Department before every practice and game. Jack didn't need to smell like he finished a cologne commercial, but he didn't want to make a second horrible impression by smelling sweat as he selected a shower stall and turned on the water.

The faint sound of conversation and the bathroom door opening and closing came through the shower's spray as Jack allowed the warm water to trickle down his chest and abs. A sigh escaped his lips, and his muscles slowly began to relax. If the Devils did lose to the Rangers, his body wouldn't soon forget the work ethic necessary to try and beat them. After some time, Jack grabbed the soap from the stall's built-in corner caddy and began to wash away any spec of dirt from his body. He gave his appendages a final glance, deeming himself presentable to Maisy, before turning off the shower and wiping himself down.

"You okay?" Luke inquired as his fully dressed brother returned to the dressing rooms.

"Yeah, why?"

"Because you've just been out of it since I saw you talking to that girl in the hallway."

Jack rolled his eyes and continued to dry his locks. Luke was the quietest of the Hughes children but also had the biggest heart and wouldn't hesitate to check up on his elder brothers if he thought something was wrong. "I'm fine, and her name is Maisy," he responded.

"Who, do tell, is this Maisy?" asked Nico from the other end of the row as he collected his stuff from his locker.

"She's the newest photographer for the team."

"Maybe you should ask her out. You seem to like her a lot," Luke suggested, putting on a pair of sweatpants.

"That's not a good idea!" Nico retorted.

"Why?"

Luke froze in place and looked between Jack and Nico with his downturned eyes, trying to decipher whatever silent message they exchanged. Jack widened his eyes and tilted his head, almost as if to tell Nico that he piqued Luke's interest, which meant that he had to tell Luke what happens when personnel get involved with the players.

Nico pursed his lips before turning to Luke and saying, "We generally try to avoid going out with the female employees because the organization can fire them for having romantic relationships with the team.”

"They were serious about that?" Luke murmured under his breath as he finished dressing.

"Yes, they were," responded Jack, tossing the used towel into a nearby laundry bin. "But don't worry, I wouldn't count saying hi to a girl five times before awkwardly shuffling off would constitute having a romantic relationship with someone."

"I still think you should get her number."

"Why?"

"I mean, if she could get The Big Deal to smile, she seems cool."

Jack shifted his gaze to Nico, looking for a final piece of advice from his captain.

"It's up to you. But if you do give her your number, I would suggest that you try to keep the relationship as professional as possible. You don't want to be that person who ruins a girl's career because you couldn't keep it in your pants."

Jack nodded as he threw his black duffel bag over his shoulders and exited the locker room. He watched as the equipment managers ran back and forth, putting back the pucks and the sticks from practice. But as far as Jack could tell, there didn't seem to be any sign of Maisy. Jack reassured himself that she had to be down there as he slowly wandered the hallway. There wouldn't be any reason she would have to return to work so soon. He poked his head in every corner, searching for any sign. However, as the minutes passed without success, Jack's expression started to sour, and a slight frown formed. If she wasn't in the tunnel, she could have return to the Broadcast Floor to learn how to touch up her photos. Jack could request access to the Broadcast Floor if he wanted to. The only problem was he would have to explain to Ruff why it was a good idea to allow the team's star player near their newest hire to give her his phone number.

As Jack tried to formulate a backup plan, a woman's laugh broke through his thoughts. He couldn't place a face to the giggle, but his heart already knew who it was: Maisy. Clearing his head, Jack rushed to the source of the voice and found Maisy conversing with the photography director over the pictures she had taken during the practice. Jack couldn't do anything in that moment lest Jack wanted to risk exposing his plan to the director, so he was content to watch for several moments. His frown transformed into a smile as he watched how her lightly freckled cheeks lifted every time she spread her lips to reveal her perfect, white teeth or how she sometimes lifted her manicured nails to her nose to stifle her laughter.

The photographer director left after a while, leaving Maisy alone. Jack immediately placed his back to a nearby wall and kept perfectly still to prevent the photographer director from noticing him as he passed. He relaxed his body once the photographer was safe and revealed himself from his hiding spot.

"Hey, Maisy!" he said, shoving his hand into his pocket, trying to act natural despite feeling his heart skip a beat or two.

"Hey, Jack! I saw you during practice. You looked good out there. Do you feel ready to face the Rangers?"

"Yeah, yeah … but, umm … I wanted to come and apologize again and see if I could get your number."

"My number?" Maisy asked as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Aren't most guys supposed to pull out some cheesy pick-up line like, 'Are you a camera? Every time I look at you, I smile.' I heard that one a lot while I was a student."

"No, no, nothing like that. I'm not that kind of guy," Jack reassured, keeping Nico's advice at the front of his mind. "Just like a pair of friends going to get lunch or something. That's not awkward, right?"

"I thought you hockey-types usually go after the long-legged, skinny, blonde model-type of girls."

"Some do, but not all. I prefer a girl more like you — a short and feisty one who looks, well, healthy."

Maisy smiled a bit before placing her camera bag on the floor and pulling out a pen and paper from a small side pocket. "I suppose we need to test your theory of not being like other guys."

"I should get going," she continued, handing Jack a neatly folded paper square. "There's still a few more things I need to learn before heading home. But if you ever get bored, hungry, or bored, text me, and maybe we could do something together."

Jack unfolded the paper and smiled at the pristine handwriting that wrote out Maisy's numbers. He could hear Nico's voice in his head, admonishing him for putting himself in a situation that would probably end up with either the Devils reprimanding Maisy, Jack, or both. But Jack's consciousness quickly shooed Nico away like an exasperated linesman trying to break up a scrum and didn't get paid enough. He knew that he needed to be careful moving forward. Still, he wanted to learn more about Maisy and perhaps himself, particularly if he had never felt this way about a girl. His gaze lifted once more to see the steel doors of the elevator closing on Maisy's visage as she waved to him.

"Win against the Rangers for me!"

A hockey photographer's life was unlike your typical 9-5. Many artists worked long nights, reviewing their photos and ensuring that everything looked right before submitting them to the team, league, or even Getty Images. Thankfully, Maisy would be able to make it home before the sunset. Thom, Nick, and the other members of the Creative Team wanted Maisy to stick around so that she could learn more about how the team would use her pictures to create art for the club. It was interesting, but Maisy couldn't wait to return to her cozy, warm apartment and change into something more comfortable.

She hung her keyfob on a mahogany key rack in the entryway and placed her bags near the little island in the kitchen before opening the small door protecting the closet in her one-bedroom apartment. There were clothes of various colors and textures sticking out from every angle in the little shoebox. The accommodations worked so well for Maisy while she was studying at university. Still, she was starting to get tired of the lack of space and decided to save up enough money to move out while she struggled to hold back the clothing avalanche that was threatening to spill over. Once Maisy felt the disaster subsided, she stepped back and looked at the mess for anything that looked clean and comfortable. Eventually, her eyes picked up a distressed band tee and pair of shorts. As Maisy finished putting on her shorts, her phone rang from the kitchen, catching her attention. A picture of her and her father standing in front of the wrought-iron Rutgers gate leading to the campus with her diploma popped up on the screen, causing Maisy to smile. Mr. Pearson had long since gone gray, and he was even considering retirement, but his eyes and smile still retained that same energy he had all those years ago.

"Hi, Daddy!" Maisy stated after a moment of reminiscing.

"Hi, Mace! Is this a good time to talk?"

"Yeah, I figured you would be calling. I just got home from the Prudential Center."

"Really, I never would have guessed! Anyway, how was your first day of work? Did you meet any cute hockey players?"

"DAD!"

Maisy and her parents talked well into the evening about everything, how she met some of the team, loved her new co-workers, and was happy to do something she loved. Once she had given her parents a play-by-play, her mother started a saga about how she ran into a book club member at the grocery store, which Maisy pushed to the back of her mind while searching her refrigerator for something quick she could make for dinner. As her mother babbled, Jack was the only thing she had on her mind. It felt like there was a massive debate going on inside her head. One side of her wanted to tell everyone that she had given her phone number to Jack Hughes, the Jack Hughes. Another part told her to keep things on the down low because it wasn't very professional for her to rush into a workplace situationship on her first day at her big-girl job. It didn't hurt that Jack Hughes had her phone number. All she needed to do is be careful when approaching this situation.

"Maisy, are you there?" her mother asked, interrupting Maisy's train of thought.

"Yeah, I'm here. I'm probably just tired from a long day of work."

"Alright, then, we should probably let you go. But we want to see you the next time the Devils have the day off!"

"Sounds good. I'll call you when I have more information. Love you!"

"Love you, too! Have a good night!"

Maisy disconnected and breathed a sigh of relief that her mother didn't pry any further like a detective interrogating a homicide suspect. She wouldn't know what to say if anybody asked her about her feelings for Jack, so it is best to keep things quiet for now. After sifting through various bottles and containers of Tupperware, Maisy finally settled on a container of sesame chicken from yesterday that she should probably hurry up and get rid of. With a belly full of food and an episode of her favorite reality blaring on the TV, Jack had almost faded into the back of Maisy's mind until her phone vibrated with a text message.

Jack Sent at 9:30 pm Hi, Maisy. It's Jack. 🙂

Maisy glanced over the phone, thinking it was probably her parents or some promotional text message from a store that she had forgotten to opt out of. But when her brain registered what the message said and who the sender was, she immediately sprung from her stupor and into action. Jack Hughes was texting her, which meant that it was go time. A thousand thoughts danced around Maisy's head as she attempted to figure out how she was supposed to handle this situation. Eventually, she took a deep breath and typed a generic greeting back before shutting off her phone for the night.

She plugged her phone into the little floating shelf beside her and immediately climbed into bed. Starting your dream job and meeting one of your favorite players, who also turned out to be super cool and accepted your phone number, takes a lot out of a girl. And Maisy wanted nothing more than this day to end. But as she laid her head down on her pillow and closed her eyes, she couldn't help but wonder if she was doing the right thing.

The Rangers game eventually came around, and the Prudential Center filled up with equal parts Devils and Blueshirts fans. Being the only member of the photography team to appear in the public eye, Maisy decided to dress up a little bit with a powder blue blouse and a pair of matching nude pants and heels. She waved to the security guards, who stood outside the staff entrance in their neon yellow jackets, feeling very proud and sophisticated as she swiped her keycard to enter the building. Ordinarily, she would be standing in line with the other fans with her father's old Martin Brodeur jersey. But tonight was Maisy's night to shine, to show how hard she worked over the years to obtain this position.

Maisy journeyed up to the Broadcast Floor, where Nick, Thom, and everyone else were busy preparing for the game. She retrieved her setup from the equipment lockers, activated the appropriate settings, and returned to take pictures of the players entering the arena. Jack hadn't responded to her message from last night, so Maisy figured that he understood that she didn't want to rush into this relationship. However, that didn't stop her stomach from threatening to spill the contents of her lunch in the streets.

After moments, she noticed movement across the parking lot, where the players traditionally parked their cars. Her eyes adjusted a bit and discerned the slicked dark brown hair of Brendan Smith, poking out from the top of his BMW driver-side door. Maisy smiled as she recalled rumors she had seen online of the rosy-cheeked Brendan, one of the team's more organized and punctual guys. He smiled at her and greeted her with a raise of his coffee cup before heading inside the stadium with the help of the security team. One by one, the players began to trickle in after Brendan – Dougie, Jonas, Nico, the other Nico, and Vtek. However, there was no sign of Jack. Players generally had to be at the arena three or four hours ahead of game time to prepare for the match, and Jack was cutting it real close. Maisy entered a vicious cycle of checking the time and lifting her head again. His delay was not helping Maisy's already heightened anxiety as she debated what she should do about the situation. She had his phone number and could certainly text him.

Thankfully, there was no need for intervention as Jack and another player, whom Maisy identified as Luke upon closer inspection, came running up to the door. She took a snapshot and shouted, "You're late!"

"Blame Luke!" a breathless Jack called back as he gently shoved his brother into the hallway.

Maisy giggled as she took one last photo and followed the Hughes brothers into the stadium. All the players disappeared into their locker room to dress for warm-ups while Maisy went to the ground floor to take pictures of the fans in the stands. It wasn't much longer afterward that the Rangers and Devils emerged to warm up for the game, and a deluge of fans descended upon the glass to try and compete for either a stick or a puck. As Maisy stuck her lens through the hole in the glass, Jack skated up to her and placed his face right up to the lens, giving him a fishbowl appearance. She smirked, turning off the flash and taking the picture of Jack for posterity.

Jack skated away to join the other players in helping Vancek and Daws warm up and the goal. The Devils won 2-1, causing the Devils fans in the building to leap from their seats in celebration. They hugged and high-fived each other as the disgruntled Rangers fans gathered their things to head back over the river. Meanwhile, the elated Devils lept from their bench to give Daws his congratulatory head bumps and the Blueshirts filed silently back into their locker room.

The games came and went over the proceeding months. As planned, New Jersey returned with a vengeance from their elimination during last year's Playoffs. There were a few teams who had the Devils' number. But the boys in red did their best to hold on and secured the second spot in the Metropolitan Division. However, that wasn't the only big narrative that circled through Newark that fall. Despite their promise to remain just friends, Jack and Maisy slowly started to break their boundaries one by one. They didn't do it outright to avoid suspicion, but rumors about their respective departments were circulating. Their families, friends, and co-workers could see it in how they smiled at each other, or they always seemed to find time to talk

As everyone suspected, Maisy and Jack's relationship grew underneath the surface. Their first date was pretty simple because they didn't want anyone – or even themselves, for that matter – to know that they had feelings for each other. It wasn't a big deal or anything. Jack invited Maisy for a hike and picnic at the South Mountain Reservation in West Orange. Both of them rationalized that there was nothing wrong with them getting a little exercise, particularly considering that Jack is a professional athlete and food was necessary for the body to rebuild muscle after exercise. There was nothing romantic about Jack and Maisy sitting together, surrounded by the beautiful leaves, laughing and conversing away from the prying eyes of the fans and the Devils organization.

There was one problem, though. These casual dates, which were nothing more than two friends and co-workers hanging out, soon became a pattern. Jack and Maisy would lie awake at night, contemplating their mistakes and how they should proceed. One day, on a team break day, Maisy was lying on her sofa, listening to music and surfing social media, when a text came in from Jack.

Jack Sent at 1:05 pm I'm bored. Do you want to go out and do something?

Maisy smiled as she sat up and clicked the notification on the top of her phone. She asked what Jack wanted to do, and Jack said he wanted to go to the Newark Museum of Art. Maisy pursed her lips at this idea. It wasn't the fact that she didn't want to go to the Museum. She still had many friends from when she interned there during her college years and popped in occasionally to see them and what new exhibits the facility has. But Jack never showed an overt interest in art. He thought Maisy had incredible talent and sometimes asked her about different photography terminology. Besides, he seemed more than content hanging with his brother or playing video games — typical guy things. Maisy was still intrigued all the same.

Jack Sent at 1:05 pm I just thought it would be fun.

Maisy just shrugged her shoulders and found a cute outfit before heading out to the Museum as planned. She pulled into the small parking lot beside the old stone building and selected a spot next to Jack's dark gray Mercedes-Benz Sedan. Despite its mundane appearance, the Newark Museum of Art had a lot of space and held tons of exhibits. Maisy opened the door and approached the white desk in the middle of the foyer, where a man and woman sat behind a glass countertop.

"Well, if it isn't Miss Maisy!" the gentleman exclaimed, causing the woman to look up from whatever she was doing on her computer. "Have you come back to visit the little people?"

"You're never little to me," Maisy replied, pulling out a pamphlet from the plastic holder on the countertop and opening it. "I'm here to meet a friend. Are there any new exhibits that I should know about?"

"There is a new exhibit that documents art from various cultures in America during the 20th and 21st century that I think you may like," the woman said, standing up and pointing to the page Maisy had open in the pamphlet.

"Sounds cool! It was nice to see you guys again!" Maisy responded as he waved goodbye and headed to the large, colorful arches leading to the exhibits.

"Of course! Don't be shy and come see us again!" the man and woman replied as they returned to work.

Maisy stepped onto the modern exhibit floor and wandered through some individual pieces as she examined the map. A lot had changed since she was just a teenager, working there to help stage pieces, sell tickets, and direct to the people where the bathrooms were. However, there was one thing that stayed the same: its eccentricity. Public historians had one main job, and that was to make history more accessible to the public. The Museum's art director certainly had that covered by ensuring that every exhibit was fun, interactive, and different than the last. Some say that it is a bit tacky and prefer the more sophisticated stylings of the Metropolitan Museum of Art. But it worked for the everyday citizens of Newark, got more people in the building, and made the place feel a bit more homey.

Maisy had no idea where Jack was in this whimsical maze, but that gave her more reason to wander around and see the Museum. She took the advice of the guides sitting at the front desk and visited the exhibit on Modern American Art. It was a gorgeous exhibit that featured art from many of the country's minority populations, from Indigenous Art to the Harlem Renaissance. Maisy stopped and looked at each piece of art, admiring the mediums and use of color as she wandered the different halls. She had almost forgotten about Jack until she saw him staring at a statue of Aphrodite of Knidos in an ongoing exhibit about ancient art history. Jack had his face turned to the installment, but Maisy could tell he put more effort into his appearance today. It wasn't that Jack was unclean or anything. As someone who spent half of his week in his suit and another half under several layers of padding, Jack usually liked to dress down on his days off, typically wearing a basic T-shirt and jeans. However, today, Jack looked extremely dashing with his brown hair brushed back, matching black shirt and pants, and matching gray sweater.

Maisy joined Jack at his side. "It's quite beautiful, isn't it?"

"Even though she's missing her head and limbs, you can still see there is beauty in how much care the sculptor put into the piece," Jack responded.

Afterward, there was an awkward science between the two, and a feeling of easiness settled into Maisy's stomach. There was a reason why a well-dressed Jack had brought her to a place that played such an essential part in Maisy's life for several years. The only problem was that Maisy did not know whether this was a good or bad sign.

"She kind of reminds me of you," Jack finally said.

"What do you mean?"

"Over the past few months, I have gotten to know Maisy, the photographer. But I haven't gotten to know the other sides of Maisy in the past few months. I'm pretty sure everyone has seen it, but I don't think we can remain friends — or at least not remain friends without acknowledging our underlying feelings."

Maisy shifted the strap on her purse and looked down at her ballet flats. This is the one thing she feared. She promised herself that she would never allow herself to land in this position when she accepted Jack's phone number. He was super sweet and did so much for her. He made her laugh, made it a point to talk to her every day after every game, and checked up on her whenever they had the day off. Maisy had written off the behavior as Jack just trying to be excellent. However, looking back on everything, she considered whether Jack developed feelings for her, she developed feelings for him or both. The problem was that if she indulged in these affections, she might lose the job she had worked so hard to obtain.

Was she ready to take this leap?

Jack's gray-colored eyes watched Maisy as she considered her options. "What are you thinking?"

"I think that's a lot to ask for. Surely, you know what happens to employees, particularly female employees, to get involved with players!" Maisy replied.

"Yeah, I have. And I'm not suggesting that you jump right into a relationship with me, but it would be a bad idea for us to let these feelings foster.

Maisy took a deep breath and asked, "What if I did take that chance?"

"Are you sure about that?" inquired Jack.

"Yes, I am definitely sure," Maisy finally confessed, letting go of her purse strap and relaxing her shoulders. "I have spent all of my life preparing for this job. Not once have I ever had time to think about the fact that this job is not guaranteed. And if I am ever going to let go of my fears of losing this job, I have to let go of my attachment to this job. And there's no one I would rather risk my job for than you, Mr. Hughes."

A large smile appeared on Jack's face as he grabbed Maisy's hand to bring her closer. Maisy could feel the calluses on his fingers, where he had spent so many days learning how to shoot pucks with his father and brothers on the homemade pond in their backyard. Yet, they were gentle and soft, reassuring Maisy that her decision would not go to waste. "Well, then, I think we should reintroduce ourselves," Jack joked. "My name is Jack Hughes, and I'm Maisy Pearson's boyfriend."

"It's nice to meet you, Jack Hughes. My name is Maisy Pearson, your girlfriend," Maisy replied with a giggle.

Without a moment's hesitation, Jack pulled Maisy in for a kiss. It all happened quickly, but it felt natural, like their bodies had been waiting for this moment for months. Maisy softly smiled, and her eyes fluttered shut as her mind began to process the sensation of Jack's lips being against hers. The kiss was warm and tender but delicate and tempting. It would be remiss of her to say that she didn't want more. She could see images of her and Jack sharing a passionate kiss several months later when their relationship was much more profound, and they weren't worried about any potential repercussions because of Maisy's job. For now, though, Jack's kiss was just enough to let Maisy know that there was something more that they could explore.

After a few moments, Jack broke off the kiss and offered Maisy his elbow. "Now that is settled, why don't you show me around the Museum? I hate to admit, but I kind of pulled that Aphrodite thing out of my ass."

"Oh, that's really nice to say to your new girlfriend!" quipped Maisy, giving Jack's shoulder a little slap as she linked her arm with Jack's.

"I didn't mean it like that!" Jack said. "Everything that I said was true. It was just a little hard to make up on the fly because I'm not good at this art thing at all."

"What color do yellow and blue make?"

"Uh, blue?"

"Look, you're learning!"

"Well, it's easy when you have such a smart and beautiful teacher!" Jack answered as he escorted Maisy deeper into the Museum and the great unknown.

34 notes · View notes

cnnmairoll · 11 months

Text

Butterfly Bonds

Pairing : Matsukawa Issei x Reader Note : Another rewrite from one of my old fics, but I add more to it! You can find the old version here. I don't exactly do any major changes but more of the way I write it!

"What's in your hands, sweetheart?" Matsukawa asked as you set down the packages you received from the mailman today. "Oh, just a bunch of stuff I bought online. Care to help me out?" you grinned. Being addicted to online shopping, you couldn't resist buying not only for yourself but also for Issei.

Issei sighed at your little addiction but still walked over to grab a pen knife from the drawer. You settled all your packages on the floor and started organizing which ones to open first.

"You're going for the big ones first?" he asked. "Mhm! Just be careful with this one; it's really fragile." Today's mail contained six packages, and one of them was a gift for Issei.

The first package was a glass water jug dispenser. You wanted to spruce up your apartment by changing some furniture and making it look prettier and cleaner. After Matsukawa managed to open all the cardboards and bubble wrap, he carefully pulled out the dispenser along with a plastic bag containing its accessories.

"There should be a stand for the dispenser… Ah! It's stuck in the box," you said, flipping the box to the other side to try opening it, but it wouldn't budge. As you attempted to open one end, Matsukawa suddenly noticed, "Wait, Y/N—" but it was too late. You cut your finger on the cardboard.

It was a somewhat deep cut, and it started bleeding. "Ah, shit! Hold on, let me get you some bandages," Matsukawa said, rushing to a drawer and returning with a first aid kit. "Here, show me your finger," he said, gently taking your hand and examining the cut.

"Seii, it stings," you whined as Matsukawa carefully wrapped the bandage around your finger. Once it was done, he set aside the first aid kit and the troublesome box. "We'll come back to that later. I'll open the other packages for you."

So you sat there, watching Matsukawa open the packages one by one. There was a mug, a figurine, jewelry, and some books. There was one tiny package left, and you decided to open it yourself.

Meanwhile, Matsukawa cleaned up the mess you both made and disposed of all the packaging supplies. You pulled out two matching silver rings, one with a butterfly on top and the other a ring band with a hole shaped like a butterfly.

"That looks pretty, baby," Issei commented as he returned from cleaning up. "This one's for you, so we can match!" you grinned, holding out one of the rings. Issei smiled back at you and put the ring on his finger. "Thank you, sweetheart," he said, kissing your temple.

As you both sat there, admiring the matching rings on your fingers, a mischievous glint appeared in Matsukawa's eyes. He leaned closer to you, whispering, "You know, there's one more surprise I have for you." Curiosity piqued, you tilted your head, urging him to continue.

Matsukawa reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. With a playful smile, he opened it, revealing a delicate necklace adorned with a silver butterfly pendant. Your eyes widened in delight, and Issei's grin mirrored yours.

"For the butterfly who brings light and joy to my life," Matsukawa said softly, placing the necklace around your neck. You could feel the weight of the pendant against your chest, and it served as a constant reminder of Matsukawa's love and thoughtfulness.

Touched by his gesture, you couldn't help but feel overwhelmed with love. The two of you shared a moment, basking in the warmth of your connection and the joy that radiated between you.

As the evening continued, you all settled down on the couch, snuggled up together. Matsukawa had brought out a fluffy blanket, and wrapped it around the two of you, creating a cozy nest. With contented smiles on your faces, you began to discuss future plans and dream about the adventures that lay ahead.

The room was filled with laughter, whispers, and the soothing sound of each other's heartbeat. In that moment, you knew that no matter what challenges life threw your way, as long as you had each other, you could conquer anything.

And so, in the warmth of that embrace, you drifted off into a peaceful sleep, knowing that tomorrow would bring new joys, new surprises, and a love that would continue to blossom like butterflies taking flight in the summer breeze.

#˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ mai writes #haikyuu!!#haikyuu fluff #matsukawa x reader #matsukawa #matsukawa issei #mattsun x reader #matsukawa issei x reader #issei matsukawa #issei matsukawa x reader #haikyuu mattsun #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines

95 notes · View notes

flwrshwr-chenji · 1 year

Text

First Anniversary ~LMK~

Pairing: mark lee x reader

Word Count: 1.3k

Genre: fluff, established relationship

Warnings: none. just tooth rot. mark being mark.

AN: Hiiii!! I have partial writers block. Feel free to send me requests. Note: I only write fluff and only NCT (for now). Also someone help me make a masterlist. and lmk if you wanna be tagged in future works. Anyways. Thank you for reading!! <3

Fic under cut

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Adjusting your top in the mirror, your eyes flick between your own reflection and that of your boyfriend standing beside you. “Why do you keep looking at me?” Mark asks, a light pink tint brushing over his cheeks and ears. “I can’t look at my boyfriend? You look good babe.” You respond before quickly pecking his cheek. Freezing momentarily, Mark can’t help the smile spreading across his face.

He takes a few seconds to collect himself, before wrapping his arms around your waist. “You look even better baby.” His smile wider than ever as you lean closer, pressing your lips to his. One of his hands instinctively coming up to cup your face as he reciprocates the kiss, the other tightening its grip on your waist. Your hands take their place on either side of his face before pulling away. “Let’s go. We gotta get to the store before they get too busy.” You say softly, feeling your face heat up as you meet Mark’s eyes.

You finish pulling on your shoes, and adjust your outfit on more time before taking Mark’s hand. Walking out of the house together, you lock the door behind you before walk to the car with your boyfriend. He gently squeezes your hand before letting go to open the car door for you. “My liege” He says, giving a small bow as you get into the car. You can’t help but laugh a little at the corniness of the man getting into the driver’s seat. “You’re a loser.” You shake your head as he looks at you with the goofiest grin he can muster. “It’s what I do.” He responds before starting the car.

Once Mark parks the car he speedily jumps out the car, rushing around to open the door for you. You chuckle to yourself, shaking your head at him yet again as you get out of the car. Once the car is locked, and the keys are pocketed, Mark takes your hand, pulling you into the giant Build-A-Bear building in front of you. You can’t help the giddiness in your stomach as the two of you practically skip inside like children, ready to make your matching bears.

The bears were Mark’s idea. Suggested just over a week before, while the two of you were brainstorming what to do for your first anniversary. It was as if Mark had unlocked the secrets of the universe the way he jumped up and down with excitement, suggesting you make bears for each other, naming them after yourselves. Your smile widens as you recall the events of the week before.

This whole anniversary had turned out beautifully. Mark had woken you up with a gourmet breakfast. -Delivered of course, considering the man couldn’t cook a meal if his life depended on it, especially not gourmet- You had fresh flowers at your bedside, as he peppered your face with gentle kisses to wake you up. While you ate he rummaged through your shared closet to find an outfit for you, laying it out nicely, and steaming it so it was perfect for you. Once you were ready to shower, he had lit candles, and started the warm water for you, laying out fresh towels, hot out of the dryer. You felt butterflies in your stomach, thinking about how well your boyfriend takes care of you.

“You’re amazing mark.” you smile fondly at him as you walk inside. His eyebrows raise at the sudden compliment, his eyes meeting yours. “Why so suddenly? I haven’t done anything” he says. “But you did. This morning was so peaceful… You take such good care of me. I couldn’t ask for a better boyfriend” You squeeze his hand tightly, holding back a giggle as his face turns beet red. “You- I mean- Dude… You can’t put me on the spot like that.” He turns his eyes to the floor, getting too flustered to hold eye contact. “You’re worth taking care of.” he mumbles, pulling you closer to his side. You smile to yourself, leaning in to kiss his cheek. You didn’t know it was possible for his face to get redder but it somehow managed to do so.

“Let’s get our bears. You go pick the one you want to give to me and i’ll do the same” Mark rushes, practically shoving you away from him. You stand there a bit stunned for a second as you watch Mark walk away to find an employee to help make your bear before doing the same. As you’re shopping around to see Mark purposely avoiding you as he does his shopping. You grow a bit curious as to how he’s making the stuffed animal to his likeness, but you suppress your curiosity and focus on making your own animal.

Once you’d finished dressing your teddy, you noticed Mark was standing by the audio table, whispering into one of the voice boxes. You’d both agreed to add a voice, a scent, and a heartbeat to the teddies. You couldn’t help but wonder what Mark was saying into your bear. You watched fondly as he got his bear stuffed, and went to dress it. Once he finished you sped to the register, pretending you hadn’t been watching him the whole time. “Were you waiting long babe?” Mark asked, placing a hand on the small of your back as he stepped next to you. “no no. I just finished a little bit ago.” You tell him with a smile on your face.

By the time the two of you arrived home, you both were on the verge of exploding with excitement to see the stuffed animals you’d made for each other. You pull Mark onto the couch next to you, bouncing up and down with excitement. Mark was just as energized as you as you hand each other the boxes. “Open yours first.” You say, beating Mark to the words. He obliges with hesitation. You watch his every move beginning to feel a bit anxious that he won’t like it. “Ah dude!” Are the first words to come out his mouth has he pulls the teddy out. “It looks just like you.” He beams, giving it a squeeze to feel the heartbeat. He begins to squeeze the paw, eager to hear the message you left in the voice box but you stop him. “Don’t. I wanna play the voices at the same time.” He briefly arches an eyebrow at you before putting the bear down. “Then open yours.” He says, nodding his head towards the unopened bear next to you.

You can’t help the grin spreading across your face as you pull the cheetah plush out of the box. “Mark! This is cute!” You grin, holding the cheetah up next to his face. “You’re twin.” You giggle, sniffing the teddy as feel it’s heartbeat. “You put cotton candy scent. Yummy.” You say, more so to yourself. Sitting the teddy down, your arms drape over his shoulders as you pull him closer, gently pressing your lips to his. He lets out a content hum as he pulls you into his lap. Detaching his lips from yours he smiles. “Let’s play the voice yeah?” You nod in agreement, both of you picking up your temporarily abandoned teddies. “On the count of three. One… Two… Three!” Both of you squeeze the paws of your plushies.

“I love you.” both toys play out at the same time, you and Mark meeting each other’s eyes with the same surprised look on your faces. A few beats of stunned silence pass as you look at each other. “Do you mean it?” You say at the same time, immediately bursting into a fit of giggles. Once you’ve caught your breaths, Mark is the first to speak. “I really do mean it Y/n… I love you… So so much. It’s just crazy that you did the same thing. You kinda stole my idea dude. I was trying really hard to be original.” He briefly rambles. “I love you too Mark… More than you know.” You cut him off. “You’re really the greatest thing to ever happen to me… I can’t wait to spend countless more anniversaries with you.” You say, the widest grin on your face. Mark reciprocates your grin, squeezing the paw of the cheetah to repeat the words he’d been dying to say all day. “I love you.”

#kpop fluff #nct soft hours #nct 127 #kpop smut #nct smut #kpop scenarios #nct #kpop blurb #nct soft blurbs #nct x reader #nct mark #mark lee #mark nct #lee minhyung

210 notes · View notes

kmomof4 · 4 months

Text

A Christmas Surprise Ch. 3

We are back with the next ch of A Christmas Surprise!! In this ch, Killian takes Emma out for NYE. I hope you enjoy and let me know what you think!!!

Summary: Elsa Jones enlists her friend Emma Swan to come up with a scheme to surprise her niece Alice Jones when her Papa, Killian, returns from deployment just in time for Christmas.

From the beginning on ao3/ Current ch

Rating G Total Christmas fluff ahead!!!

Words 4550 of 18,550

Tagging the usuals. Please let me know if you'd like to be added or removed.

@jrob64 @teamhook @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @artistic-writer @xarandomdreamx @undercaffinatednightmare @the-darkdragonfly @stahlop @superchocovian @pirateprincessofpizza @tiganasummertree @anmylica @cosette141 @motherkatereloyshipper @zaharadessert @jonesfandomfanatic @ultraluckycatnd @jennjenn615 @allons-y-to-hogwarts-713 @kymbersmith-90 @booksteaandtoomuchtv @wistfulcynic @mie779 @snowbellewells @lfh1226-linda @aprilqueen84 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @pirateherokillian @elfiola @ilovemesomekillianjones @justanother-unluckysoul @poptart-cat-78 @myfearless-love @goforlaunchcee @searchingwardrobes @gingerpolyglot @gingerchangeling @djlbg @cocohook38 @cs-rylie @thisonesatellite @donteattheappleshook @deckerstarblanche @veryverynotgoodwrites @wefoundloveunderthelight @fleurdepetite @alexa-fangirl-forever @bluewildcatfanatic @qualitycoffeethings

Under the cut, unless Tumblr ate it.

New Year’s Eve arrived, and Killian was thoroughly beside himself. The last week had been a whirlwind of activity that included talking to Alice about moving to Storybrooke permanently, polishing up his résumé, getting up to speed on what was required to get his architectural license renewed, not to mention planning the date with Emma.

It had been almost twenty-one years since he’d graduated with his degree, and his head was spinning with the requirements he’d need to meet to get his license in place. Thankfully, since he wasn’t reporting back for active duty for another month, he had time to get it all done and submit his résumé to Liam’s firm before returning to Boston.

Alice was ecstatic about staying in Storybrooke, at least through the end of the school year. She realized quickly that as happy as she was with her Papa being home, she didn’t want to leave her school, Henry, or her cousins behind to move back to Boston permanently.

Killian, Liam, and Elsa agreed it was a bit premature to tell the kids about his job opportunity, just in case it didn’t come to fruition, but after Liam talked with his boss, and then Killian talked to him as well, he was having trouble keeping a lid on his excitement. Everything was falling into place, and he couldn’t be more thrilled.

He wondered how much he should tell Emma on their date tonight. He wanted to be completely forthright with her about his intentions, but he didn’t want to scare her off, either. This was only their second official date, after all. And the first where they’d be completely without their family for the duration.

He looked at himself in the mirror and ran his fingers through his hair, touseling it just a bit. He was a little old to be preening in the mirror like this- now that he was in his 40’s, just a touch of frost was evident at his temples- but he had to admit, Emma Swan sent the butterflies in his stomach into flight like no one ever had before, and he wanted to look his best.

He came down the stairs to see everyone gathered in front of the fire, laying out Harry Potter Trivial Pursuit.

“Aren’t you going to wait for Henry to get here?” he asked.

Liam and Elsa looked up at him, matching grins on their faces. “Papa!” exclaimed Alice. “You look so handsome!”

Killian scratched behind his ear as Alice ran for him, throwing her arms around his waist.

“Thank you, Starfish.” He looked up at the rest of his family, happy to see all the smiles directed towards him. “I’m going to head out, but we’ll be back to drop off Henry in about twenty minutes.”

“We’re on teams anyway,” Elsa informed Killian as he turned toward the door. “And the boys are going first. As good as the kids are at Harry Potter, I expect it’ll still be Alice and Henry’s turn by the time he gets here, if it’s gotten to their turn in the first place.”

Killian chuckled his agreement before heading out into the night. Just a few minutes later, Killian was standing on Emma’s front stoop. He took a deep calming breath before knocking on the door.

“Hi, Mr. Jones!” Henry exclaimed, opening the door wide for Killian to enter.

“Hello, Henry,” Killian said, stepping into the foyer of the small house where Emma and Henry lived. Killian looked around at the tidy and tastefully decorated home before turning his attention back to the beaming boy in front of him.

“So where are you taking my mom tonight?” he asked.

Killian chuckled and scratched behind his ear, not surprised, but also not quite prepared for the boy’s question.

“I’ve made reservations for us at a restaurant in Portland that has an entire evening planned to ring in the new year,” Killian explained. “I hope your mother enjoys it.”

Henry’s eyes turned mischievous as he nodded. “My mom doesn’t date,” Henry informed him. “My dad died before I was born, and she hasn’t gone on a single date in my entire life. So I’m sure whatever you have planned, she’ll enjoy.” Henry’s gaze turned suddenly serious, and Killian’s heart rate picked up just a bit as he waited for the boy to gather his thoughts. “I love my mom a lot,” he said. “And I want to see her happy. Just, don’t break her heart, ok?”

Killian’s heart melted at Henry’s statement and request. The seriousness of his words demanded a genuine and heartfelt response. He knelt before Henry and placed his hand over his own heart.

“Henry,” he began, looking him right in the eyes, “You have my word. I will never knowingly hurt your mother. I can tell already, just from the time I’ve spent with her, that she is a priceless treasure, and her heart even more so. And if she were to deign to place it in my hands, I will honor and protect it to the end of the world and time.”

Emma stood around the corner from the foyer with tears in her eyes. She had stopped in the hallway when she heard Henry telling Killian that she never dated. He wasn’t quite accurate in his statement, but looking back now, she realized just how long it had been since she’d been on a date. She’d had a few dates when Henry was a baby, mostly at her mother’s behest. Mary Margaret Swan’s belief in True Love and Happily Ever After and how intertwined they both were would rival any Disney princess.

But hearing Henry’s request and then Killian’s response made her so glad they were both unaware of her presence. It gave her a few moments to dry her eyes and compose herself before greeting her date.

Killian rose to his feet as she came around the corner. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth at the gorgeous man in front of her. He wore a black suit that fit him perfectly. The scruff along his jaw had filled in a little more over the last week since she’d seen him, and Emma had to fight to keep her own jaw from hanging open. Her eyes roamed over him in blatant appreciation, and when she finally met his gaze, she caught her breath at the flame of desire she saw there. She didn’t know what he had planned, but she hoped her outfit was appropriate.

Killian’s gaze took Emma in from head to toe. He didn’t even attempt to hide his unabashed attraction and admiration from her. She wore a perfectly sinful, yet modest sleeveless black dress. It clung to every one of her curves, its neckline coming nearly to her neck and the hemline hitting her just above the knee. She wore black stockings and black wedge heels, perfect for dancing. Killian licked his bottom lip as his eyes met hers. He reached out his hand and took hers.

“It’s freezing outside, darling,” he said. “You’ll need a heavy coat.”

“I was born and raised in Maine, Killian,” she informed him with a smile. She opened the foyer closet and pulled out a long red wool coat. She handed it to him, and he held it open for her with a wide smile on his face as she slid her arms in and he settled it on her shoulders. She reached behind her under the collar and pulled her long hair out. She didn’t miss the way his eyes darkened at her innocent action. She needed a distraction and quickly. “Do you have your bag ready, Henry?”

“They were getting ready to start Harry Potter Trivial Pursuit when I left, Henry,” Killian called as the boy ran back to his room to grab his coat and overnight bag.

“I’m ready,” Henry exclaimed as he came around the corner again. Killian opened the door for them both and let them precede him into the frigid night air. He’d left his car running so it would be comfortably warm inside when they got in. It was cold enough outside that just the few minutes he’d been inside their home, would have been enough for all the heat accumulated on the drive over to be completely lost.

When they arrived back at Liam and Elsa’s house, Elsa’s earlier assessment was proven true. The twins had finally missed a question about five minutes before they arrived, and now Alice was already on her first pie piece. Henry jumped right in.

“Bye, guys,” Killian called. He chuckled when he was completely ignored.

Elsa waved distractedly at them. “Go, have fun! We’ll expect you home by one, Killian.”

Killian laughed. “I’m forty-one years old, Elsa. Little old for a curfew.” And with that, he ushered Emma back out the door.

Once they were on their way, Emma turned to Killian. “So where are we going?”

“Liam told me about a relatively new place in Portland that he and Elsa found a few months ago,” Killian said. “When I looked them up, they had an entire evening agenda for ringing in the new year. So I thought we could try it.” He looked over at her, gratified that her happy countenance was unchanged.

“That sounds fun.”

“The prix fixe menu on the website sounded great,” he told her. “I don’t remember what all was on there, but it included four courses, with several choices for the main course. The entré I remember was the Surf and Turf, lobster and a six ounce filet. I’ll be getting that,” he said, licking his lips.

“That does sound good,” Emma agreed.

“And after dinner, there’ll be dancing and they’ll be turning on the broadcast from New York for the ball drop.”

Emma was excited. A fancy dinner and dancing. She’d never been dancing before and she hoped she didn’t embarrass herself. Or him. She really liked him, and being so close with Elsa, she was keenly aware of how invested her best friend and her husband were in this new relationship.

“I heard you and Henry,” she said quietly. “Before I came in.” Emma bit her lip as she smiled when his cheeks flamed and he scratched behind his ear. The nervous tell of his was adorable and made her want to kiss the spot where he always scratched.

“I, ah…” he stammered.

“It’s alright,” she rushed to reassure him. “Your words were very sweet, and I don’t want you to worry that they’ll scare me off.” She took his unoccupied hand in hers and turned fully to him, taking in the flush on his cheeks and the ticking of the muscle in his jaw that told her just how anxious he was about her response. “I haven’t dated much since Henry’s father died, but I…” She looked down for a moment, a little anxious about revealing quite so much. But then she remembered Killian’s exact words to Henry. Words that were definitely not meant for her ears. Not yet anyway. She took a deep breath and continued. “I like you, Killian. A lot. And finally meeting you after listening to Elsa and Alice talk about you for nine months,” she paused again, steeling herself for her next words, “I know that you are very special, too. I’m looking forward to getting to know you better.”

Emma was normally a bit more circumspect about her thoughts and feelings. About anything, not just matters of the heart. But everything she already knew about Killian- from his words earlier, to her own observations, to the information she’d gleaned from Alice and Elsa- told her that this man before her was very special indeed, and her heart would be safe in his hands.

Killian had to blink rapidly to clear his vision so he could see to drive. He cleared his throat a couple of times before speaking.

“I’m looking forward to getting to know you better too, Emma,” he said sincerely. They were silent for a few moments before Killian spoke again. “You said you haven’t dated much, but Henry said you hadn’t dated at all.”

Emma laughed good naturedly. “Yeah, he was a baby the last time I went on a date. I’d be surprised if he remembered that.”

“He said his father died?” Killian asked. “If you wouldn’t mind sharing that, I’d like to hear it.”

“No, I don’t mind,” she replied easily. “It’s been a long time. Henry’s father was a lobster fisherman. We met while I was still in college at BU. We’d been together for several years, I was teaching in the Boston public school system, and we’d just gotten engaged. But he got caught in the lines on his boat and was swept overboard.”

“Oh, Emma,” Killian breathed. “I’m so sorry.”

Emma’s smile was small and soft. “I found out a few weeks later that I was pregnant.” She paused for a moment, blinking back her own tears. She hadn’t spoken about that time in her life in many years. “It was the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back. After Neal was gone, I came home. I wanted my mom,” she said with a shrug. Killian gave her a soft, understanding smile. “I was on summer break, and when I found out I was pregnant, I couldn’t face returning to Boston and the home I’d shared with him, pregnant with his baby, knowing that I’d be raising our child alone. I got out of our lease and turned in my resignation to the school system. At least here, I had family, a support system I didn’t have in Boston.”

“I’m so glad,” Killian said.

The rest of the drive was made in companionable silence. Emma already knew about Milah from their first date, and Killian didn’t want to trivialize what she’d shared with him by immediately jumping to another topic of conversation. It wasn’t much farther to the hotel that housed Bacarmi Restaurant and Wine Bar, and they could just as easily pick up the conversation once they arrived. Just a few minutes later, Killian pulled up to the valet parking station.

After passing off the keys to the attendant, he opened Emma’s door, holding his arm out for her to take. Bacarmi’s was on the top floor of the hotel, and when they entered, they were immediately taken to their table near the back windows, giving them a spectacular view of the city.

“How did you get reservations here?” Emma whispered as soon as the maître d’ left them with menus. “This looks like the kind of place that would be booked for New Years in June!”

Killian blushed and scratched behind his ear again. “Apparently they hold a certain number of reservations on holidays for military servicemen and women and first responders. And since I qualify…” he trailed away, slightly embarrassed. He didn’t serve his country to be recognized as a hero or anything of that sort, but he had to admit, benefits like this for his service were quite welcome.

“That is lovely,” Emma said sincerely.

“It is,” Killian agreed, then turned his attention to his menu. “Ah, there it is,” he said excitedly, “Surf and Turf. A six ounce lobster with herbed butter paired with a six ounce filet topped with porcini compound butter, sautéed spinach and kale, and whipped potatoes.”

“That sounds delicious, but I’m looking at the seabass.”

Killian nodded in agreement. “Lump crab, lobster sauce, parmesan risotto and sautéed broccolini. That does look good.”

Once their wine and meal order was placed, their conversation flowed naturally. Emma told Killian about growing up in Maine and how Elsa had helped her get a job at Storybrooke Academy. Killian told Emma about some of the antics he and Liam got up to when they were growing up, and about his years in the service. And now that dinner was concluding, the thoughts from earlier returned of just how much he should share with Emma about his future plans. He watched her carefully as she took her last bite of chocolate mousse cake dessert.

Emma swallowed and took another sip of the best wine she’d ever enjoyed before meeting Killian’s gaze. His eyes were mesmerizing in the low light, but she could see some hesitancy and even a small amount of trepidation swirling in their depths.

“What is it, Killian?” she asked gently.

Killian dropped his head for a moment, a bit chagrined that he hadn’t kept his thoughts better concealed. There was nothing for it. In the face of a direct question, he had to answer her honestly. Not that he’d even consider telling her a falsehood, but he wasn’t sure how wise it was to bare his heart and mind to her quite this much at this point in their relationship.

“Speaking of my career in the Navy,” he began, looking her full in the face again, “You know that I’m about to retire.” Emma nodded. “I was commissioned not long after I graduated college with my degree in architecture. My commitment is done at the end of May, but with my terminal leave saved up, I’m out on April 11. I hadn’t given much thought to what I’d do once I was out,” he continued with a shrug. “I mean, I have some savings and I’ll continue to be paid at full salary until the end of May, then my retirement pay kicks in. Alice and I would be able to live comfortably for several months before I’d need to find another job. But as far as what that job might be, I really hadn’t thought about it.” He looked at her again, his eyes bouncing back and forth between hers, trying to read how she was taking this surplus of information. “Until Liam and I had some time to ourselves Christmas Eve after everyone was in bed,” he continued. “You know what he does, right?”

Emma nodded. “Of course. He helped me find our house not long after Henry was born, which is how Elsa and I met. I’d been living with my parents since moving back.”

Killian nodded. “Well, his firm also builds, and they are about to open a new division dedicated to commercial property. He encouraged me to submit my résumé and move here permanently once I retire.”

His eyes met hers again, and Emma was stunned to see a question in them. Was he asking her opinion on what he should do after he retired? Surely not.

Her eyes were wide and her mouth hung open slightly before she swallowed hard. Killian could have kicked himself. He’d shared too much.

Emma placed her hand on top of his where it lay on the table and laced their fingers together. “You have to make the best decision for you and for Alice,” she said. “Would I be happy if you moved to Storybrooke permanently? Yes,” she acknowledged, and Killian could breathe again. “But, it’s not my opinion that matters.”

“Alice doesn’t want to leave Storybrooke,” he informed her. “Of course, she’s happy I’m home, but she loves her aunt and uncle, she loves her school and her friends, and she loves you and Henry, and I don’t want to take her away from all of that. If I don’t have to.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Liam talked to his boss and explained my situation, and when I talked to him, we really hit it off. Liam thinks, and I agree, that my chances of being hired once I’ve separated from the service are pretty high.”

“Oh, Killian,” she breathed, “that’s wonderful! When will you know for sure?”

“The online portal for applicants will open at 8 am Tuesday morning,” he said. “My résumé is ready to go, but I will have to get my license reinstated, and that means sitting for the licensure exam on the 8th.”

“A week from tomorrow,” Emma said quietly. “Then you’ll have to go through all the interviews and things?”

“Yes,” Killian agreed. “But Liam’s boss, Nemo, said that he didn’t foresee any problems with bringing me on, and I’d likely have an offer in hand before I had to report back to duty on February first.” Killian smiled at her and rubbed her knuckles with his thumb. “I know this is a lot of information to take in and probably not the best topic of conversation on our second date, but I wanted you to know what I was thinking about my and Alice’s future and maybe start to explore how you and Henry might fit into that future.”

A soft smile spread across Emma’s lips. “I don’t think it’s a bad topic of conversation at all.”

A wide smile bloomed on Killian’s face as he rose to his feet, still holding her hand in his. “Well then, Swan, may I have this dance?”

A live band was getting ready to play on the opposite side of the room. Emma followed Killian to the empty dance floor, just as the band started playing The Carpenters Merry Christmas, Darling.

Killian put his arms around her, drawing her close. She could drown in the cerulean depths of his eyes and she wouldn’t mind one bit.

“I’ve never danced a slow dance like this,” she whispered.

Killian’s grin was thoroughly delighted. “Well, there’s only one rule. Pick a partner who knows what he’s doing.”

They danced for hours. The band was very good, playing classics like Nat King Cole’s Unforgettable and Frank Sinatra’s The Way You Look Tonight. They also played Let’s Start the New Year Right, by Bing Crosby, 1999 by Prince, and Happy New Year by ABBA. Sting’s Brand New Day and Rod Stewart’s What Are You Doing New Year’s Eve? were also included. As midnight approached, the band played NSYNC’s Kiss Me at Midnight. Emma couldn’t keep the grin off her face as she and Killian danced closely, Killian singing the words in her ear.

Baby, it’s New Years Eve

A time we can believe

In making wishes

Dreams come true

Just for me and you

Kiss me at midnight

Dance into the morning light

Party into the new year

All my friends are here and when the time is right

Kiss me at midnight

The band stopped playing and the volume on the big screen TVs in the bar area was turned up so they could all join in the countdown to the ball drop.

“Five… four… three… two… one!” they shouted. “Happy New Year!” The noise around them was deafening with the party horns and noisemakers being blown and shouts welcoming the turn of the calendar. Moments later, the band launched into Auld Lang Syne.

Emma stared into Killian’s eyes. He appeared to be as spellbound by her as she was by him. She couldn’t look away. This was a man she could love. She had no doubt. He held her close swaying to the music. Everything around them faded, and Emma wanted nothing more than to feel his lips on hers.

“Happy New Year, Emma,” he whispered.

“Happy New Year, Killian,” she replied just before his lips captured hers.

Emma all but melted in his arms at the feeling. Her lips parted when his tongue traced their seam, gently requesting entrance. Desire flared inside her as their tongues tangled. Killian held her close, one arm wrapped around her waist, holding her tightly against him, the other running through her hair. Emma tightened her own arms around him, never feeling as desired or as beautiful as she now felt in Killian’s arms. Much too soon, air became necessary and Killian pulled away from her.

They were both breathing heavily as they stared into each other’s eyes, still oblivious to anything around them.

Killian was completely gobsmacked. If it was possible to fall head over heels in love with someone from a single kiss, then that was exactly what had just happened to him. But it wouldn’t do to say that out loud at this moment in time. He thought back to his words to Henry earlier this evening when he’d promised to protect Emma’s heart were he so blessed to be gifted with it. A small smile touched his lips as he realized it was the other way around. His heart was unequivocally hers. To the end of the world or time.

Killian touched his forehead to hers. She still seemed a bit dazed from their kiss, and he couldn’t help the surge of male pride that flowed through him at that realization.

“I should probably be getting you home.”

Emma giggled, her eyes sparkling mischievously. “You’re probably right. You do have a curfew after all.”

Killian snorted. “You don’t think they’ll be waiting up for me, do you?”

Emma raised her eyebrows slightly. “If I know Elsa, I expect she will.”

Killian groaned and Emma giggled again. She was probably right. And if Elsa was up, that meant Liam would be up, too. There was nothing for it, he was gonna have to face the music. At least he wouldn’t have to face the inquisition from the kids tonight. No, Emma would have to join him in the hot seat when she came to pick up Henry.

Killian grinned as he saw the same realizations were coming over Emma as well. He held out his elbow to her and escorted her back to their table where he helped her into her coat.

The drive to Emma’s home was quiet, but they held hands the entire way. And after another kiss on the front stoop of her house, Killian stood there for a few moments once Emma retreated inside. His life had been thoroughly turned upside down in the last two and a half weeks and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Killian arrived back home just a few minutes later and made sure to rattle the front door a bit just in case Elsa and Liam were waiting up for him. Sure enough, when he entered the living room, he found his brother and sister-in-law hurriedly smoothing down hair and clothes as they both sat up on the sofa, trying, and failing, to present a respectable and united front. Killian chuckled, he wasn’t fooled a bit.

“So how was the date?” Elsa asked. Her cheeks were still a little pink, whether from her husband’s attentions or embarrassment at being caught, Killian couldn’t tell. “We want to hear all about it. Did you dance? I’ve never known Emma to dance. Was there a goodnight kiss?”

Killian chuckled again. He cut his eyes at his brother, whose cheeks were also red, but didn’t seem to be as anxious for answers to Elsa’s questions. Killian took a deep breath.

“You’ll have to ask all that of Emma tomorrow,” Killian said with a smile. “Or, later today, rather. We had a lovely evening. Thank you for the recommendation, brother.” With those words, Killian turned toward the stairs and started making his way to his room. But before he got to the top of the stairs, he heard Elsa speak in a low voice.

“He looks happy.”

“Yes, he does.”

Killian paused at the top of the stairs, straining his ears for anything else they might say. But when Liam spoke again, he wished he hadn’t.

“Now, where were we?”

~*~*~

Thank you for reading and sharing! The final ch will be up on Friday!!

#a christmas surprise #krystal writes #art by krystal #christmas fluff

27 notes · View notes