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smolvenger · 8 months

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Could I Have The McOrgasm, Please? (Loki x fem! Reader Oneshot)

Summary: You love Loki, but he loves another. You must join Loki on his trip to get Sylvie back by going to the McDonald's she's working at. No matter how much it hurts you on the inside...

Warnings: SMUT AT THE END! NSFW! (Oral, fem receiving, inappropriate uses of Loki's shadow powers, dirty talk, p in v sex). Angst and unrequited (or is it?) love with eventual fluff. Being Anti-Slyki and Anti-Sylvie so if you like the character or pairing you have been warned. This is my indulgent coping method for not getting with a fictional character. Also, as this is published, I don't know what the eff is going to happen in season 2. I just want this out so I can escape to delulu land when canon disappoints me.

Word Count: >8K (phew)

Comments, reblogs, dms, and asks about my work are always appreciated!

Taglist: @evelyn-kingsley @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract (smut starts at the line "I want to have you, btw bestie) @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @cheekyscamp @mochie85 @muddyorbsblr

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

“Yes, she will be there,” Loki confirmed, looking at the restaurant.

You put your hands in your pockets. You were with Loki, Mobius, and a gentleman in a TVA jumpsuit at the McDonalds where Sylvie apparently worked. Just a hop, skip, and jump away. How much you took for granted-just traveling anywhere in space and time. Only, for this place and time was the one place you didn’t want to be. You wished you were anywhere else. A natural disaster, the poorest section of a medieval village, a gladiator tournament, a tuberculosis outbreak in London in the 1870’s-not this.

You didn’t want to watch as the man you loved went to pursue someone else. It was a peaceful place- just a McDonald's in the middle of a regular strip. The sun was gentle. Big clouds drifted in the sky. The birds were singing. You wanted to scream.

You didn’t just like Loki as a friend. You loved Loki- him and only him. Loved him for a long time. Through the misadventures of life in the TVA, you helped him for long hours scouring over files. You ate lunch together. When the little capsules of pies arrived in the cafeteria for the lunch hour’s dessert options, you would pull out one for him and hand it with a smile. And when he cried over seeing what events were supposed to happen, you ran to embrace him.

Then one day he ran into the mysterious Loki variant- as it turned out her name was Sylvie. Just two days later he went missing with her. Then they reappeared. And then they vanished again. Then he reappeared and people were running in a panic.

She left him. Kissed him, killed Kang, and then left him in the dust. But it didn’t occur to Loki that this was a betrayal he should be angry about. You remembered that day. He kept talking about her- until there was one phrase that hit you in the stomach.

“Please Y/N- I love her. Help me…help me find her and fix this!”

You would have preferred to be stabbed.

When he did say he loved her, you simply said “Oh, okay. I will.”

You returned back to your room later that day. Forgetting the chaos and Mobius’s mysterious loss of memory. You sank onto the floor and cried. Cried so hard you couldn’t breathe. Cried so hard and curled up into a ball. Cried so hard you hardly slept for want of crying more.

Even after what she did, he was still talking of her. No. All he could talk of was Sylvie this and Slyvie that. Even with you. Why were you even doing this?

“Uh…I don’t think I should be here…I think I should go back…” you murmured, taking a step back.

“You’re scared…of her? Y/N! You shouldn’t be! She’s incredible, you’ll love her! And you must- you’re the one who remembers what happened!” he insisted.

“What happened?” Mobius asked. The man in the jumpsuit only blinked.

“Y/N…please-I’m nervous…I need the support…” Loki begged at you. His mouth curled into a little frown and his eyes so big they shone like big stars. You held in a breath. Those eyes. Damn, those eyes- like that of a kitten. You wanted to hug him and cuddle him- but you couldn’t.

“Okay…” you voiced.

It was odd-not only being rejected, but being rejected for himself! How the hell would you explain that to a therapist?! The more you thought about it, the more it made you sick. The Spidermans in New York apparently weren’t kissing each other, you heard. You shoved your arms to cross them and continued on. Perhaps if you walked quickly, you could get it over with. Holding your breath, you folded your arms and walked quickly in. Thinking of it like a vaccine- just a little pinch of pain for a brief bit, and then it would be over with.

You stopped inside that bright, yellow building with its bright lights. There was a woman at the counter.

“Is that…” you asked.

Loki’s pale face turned a shade paler. “Yes.”

There you saw her. Not a glance- seeing her. Truly saw her up close. There were only glimpses when she ran around in the TVA. Here, her blonde hair was cut short beneath her cap and her eyes squinted in tired boredom. She smoothed her uniform.

You noticed Loki see her. Frozen in his tracks, his mouth open.

“What are you waiting for?” you pressed.

They kept looking at each other. With a shrug, she moved her eyes forward where a customer showed up to order a McFlurry. Loki blinked and turned to you.

“Does she recognize me?” he asked.

“Go ahead and find out. .” you replied.

“I…I feel like I can’t take another step…” Loki said, his chest falling in shallow breaths.

Mobius waltzed up in front of you guys along with the variant man.

“Well- I myself am starving hungry! Y/N-I bet you are too! Let’s order!” he churruped.

You followed them as Loki stayed a the door. Frozen in place. Mobius gestured to the counter.

“Ladies first!” he chimed.

You stared at her as she finished the last order before you. Drinking in that now your invisible rival had a face. That “Sylvie” wasn’t a wisp of air, a pedestal you could never reach. But flesh and blood. That this was the woman Loki preferred. This was the woman who was Loki. Pale skin and short blonde hair. It seemed damp under her cap. Slender with a long, straight nose and pink lips. Sharp eyes like that of a falcon. Slight grace and ease with how she moved. And you knew from the hundreds of times how Loki boasted of how stupid Sylvie won some stupid fight with a stupid enemy in a stupidly easy manner.

So many words were in there. You knew what she did. How miserable she really made him. After everything he did for her. And no matter if she felt the same or not, her actions did not account for it. What she did to him. The pure misery and despair on your beloved Loki’s face when she left him. The suffering she put him through even if he wasn’t aware of it.

And envy. Yes, you were sick with envy. You hated yourself. You hated yourself because you weren’t her. And yet you hated her too. Only hate was swirling in her stomach. Your mouth stopped, for want of the thousands of things you could have said. The thousands of things you fantasized about saying, or doing. You took in a shaky breath, maybe to start one of them. To finally let it out. To scream at her. Yell in her face. They were there- words forming at you like grey clouds forming a thunderstorm.

She beat you to it.

“Hello, welcome to McDonalds,” she said with a practiced smile.

She did not recognize you. She only gave you a nod and replied dutifully, like she repeated it 1,000 times every day.

“What would you like?” she asked, continuing on like she was an actor saying her lines.

To rip out all of your hair and scalp you until you’re screaming and bloody. You thought bitterly. But you did not say that.

“Could I have the-uh, Quarter pounder and small fries and a fountain drink, please?” you requested.

She nodded with a small smile and tapped into the cash register.

“My pleasure, coming up…” she said.

When you paid, she handed you the receipt. Then all you had to do was wait until the giant screen announced your order was ready. You felt dizzy as Mobius and the new guy ordered their food.

Simple as that. Your motivation failed you. She didn’t know you. If you said or did anything, she would flee and get her manager. You would be known as “that” customer who made food service worker’s lives miserable. A story to be gasped or laughed about. And never showing you sympathetically. Or knowing the stories Loki would boast about her-whip out her own daggers and slice you into ribbons.

You took a step back. Unable to peel her eyes off of her. Imagine her as he would describe- not in a uniform but in tight leather showing a perfect and beautiful slim body. A fighter who could defeat anyone in combat without blinking an eye and who could bring down the whole TVA.

Could you do that? No- you weren’t some fierce, flawless, warrior goddess. No- you were afraid. Vulnerable. That was your curse-she was extraordinary. You were just ordinary.

You began to mentally list your personal insecurities. How could you even compare to her? No wonder Loki worshipped the ground she walked on after she used him as a punching bag. The screen announced your food and another worker handed you a tray with the burger, fries, and cup. That was a clear sign from the universe itself- might as well drown yourself in comfort food.

You noticed Loki finally moved from his place. You couldn’t even watch- not even to get your drink. You grabbed your tray of food and fled to a far corner near the bathrooms. Where you couldn’t hear them, couldn’t see them. You wanted to huddle and hide and make yourself invisible.

Then you heard footsteps- rapidly walking around. You looked up to see who it was. It wasn’t Mobius. It wasn’t even the variant in the tracksuit- You could recognize that peachy ass in those brown office khakis anywhere.

He turned his black curls everywhere as he turned his head to search. Loki went up to you, and then his shoulders relaxed. He even bent a little to meet eyes where you were sitting.

“Y/N, all the way here?” he asked.

You were such a sucker for that face, especially how soft, how sweet he could look. How could you say no to his presence now?

“Uh…yeah,” was all you could say.

As he took a step forward to where you sat, he leaned down, his hands still in his jacket pockets.

“Where were you- I got worried. Maybe someone had attacked you, or took you,” he fretted.

“I’m fine,” you lied as you took a bite of the burger. “Just wanted to sit here-more private.”

He then pulled up to the chair and sat across from you.

“How’s the wedding planning?” you wanted to ask bitterly. You did not. You looked down at your food, then up at him. He sat so casually, so easily. He folded one leg over another and set an arm down. You pulled out your bag of fries. It was so piping hot it hurt a little- but that was how you liked it.

“I’m nervous too, Y/N. I have to tell you…I cried this morning…I know I have to face her. I’ve taken over cities, I’ve battled monsters, but this…this is different…” Loki confessed.

You chewed on a fry instead of replying. Tasting the crispy hot potato flavor. He let out a deep exhale, putting a hand lightly over his mouth.

“What’s wrong with me, Y/N?” he asked.

You wiped the salt onto your pants. The words flowed out of you easily. Too easily.

“Nothing is wrong with you, Loki! You’re the nicest, sweetest, bravest, sexiest being in the whole-”

“What was that last one?” he asked, tilting his head, his blue eyes squinting.

You immediately froze, the fry you were about to eat hung in mid-air. You felt hot with embarrassment.

“You’re the nicest, smartest being in the whole universe!” you said.

Before he could say anything else, you began digging further into those hot fries. “Mmph, These are so good. And just right-right when they’re out of the fryer.” You chatted on, desperate to change the subject after your little Freudian slip.

“Can I…try one?” he asked.

He held out his hand and you pressed a few fries into it. He chewed on them and then smiled as he tasted them.

“Not bad! Midgard food isn’t as pitiful as I thought!” he replied.

Mobius returned with his tray along with his companion. They ate and Mobius commented on how the Sweet and Sour sauce was his favorite. Loki looked at him, his smile dropping. Then he turned to you, his voice low. Mobius kept on chatting about everything to the variant.

“He still doesn’t remember…It seems all who care about me just…either die or leave or hurt me…” he mourned.

“I don’t…and think of Thor. Yes, you two fight. But he loves you. And remember your own mother! They care about you. They always will…and so will I…” you assured him.

Your hand moved up to touch his, then froze and retreated. Then he turned to you.

“Y/N?”

“Mhhm?” you asked, a mouth full of food.

“...You have salt on your chin…” he commented.

He reached out his hand to cup it. Your breath stopped at his touch- so gentle, so soft. His large thumb grazed over your chin slowly. Your mouth opened a little, feeling his light brush as his thumb swiped the bits of salt away. How small it seemed under his large hands. But he wasn’t hurting you in the slightest- it felt like a caress. A light kiss. Once his thumb went back to his hand, his eyes went to yours. Seeing his blueness, his large, dark pupils. As if something unspoken was exchanged between you. You saw him swallow hard.

Taking in a deep breath after that, you retreated, putting your hands on your lap and looking down. The heaviness of sudden arousal from his touch had shocked your system. You reached for your drink to cool off but realized it was empty. You had eaten all of your meal. There wasn’t food you could use to hide now. You forced yourself to take deep breaths- in, two three four, out two three four.

“There that’s…that’s better,” Loki said.

“Thank you- it won’t be easy, but….one day, you won’t be sad about what happened. You won’t feel nervous or scared…you’ll get over it Loki, bit by bit,” you encouraged softly.

He leaned forward in his chair, his hands folding on the table.

“Ah, tell me, my dear Y/N- Have you ever had your heart broken?”

The burger in your throat dried up. You took your napkin and bunched it into a ball in your hand.

“Yes,” you answered plainly. Fighting back the urge to laugh.

“I never did! Never! None of that drama! I’ve never been more relieved!” Mobius sang out as he chewed on a nugget. His companion only kept tearing at his burger.

“Is it terrible?” Loki asked. His brows knotted in curiosity.

“Very. Still is,” you replied.

“How did you cope with it? You little mortals-going about your own lives and your own heartbreaks?” he asked generally.

You shoved aside the tray and folded your arms. Then you began to speak.

“Realizing that love shouldn’t be a prison.”

“A prison?” Loki repeated. He leaned forward. Staring right at you. Truly listening to you. You continued, though you felt your body tense up. Knowing what you said was honest- too honest.

“I was…not with him in any way. He wasn’t my boyfriend or lover or hookup or whatever. This guy- I thought… he should be with whoever makes him happy….”

Even with someone who betrayed him, manipulated his feelings, and left him crying.

“Love means letting go. It’s the right thing to do- it’s still hard though,” you finished.

Loki registered nothing beneath the surface of that. He merely shrugged and raised his eyebrows. He looked at you, giving you a small smile.

“I’m glad you’re alright and happy now, Y/N. I remembered the time you were about to fall off the TVA balcony right over those statues last month…”

“And you caught me-you saved my life!”

“To think…me…a hero for once…” he commented.

“That’s a Loki for you! A pure miracle for your kind!” Mobius commented.

He took a long sip of his Sprite.

“Wow! Now this is a drink!” he exclaimed, inside the cup for the bubbly carbonation.

“Well, Mobius, this isn’t fiction. No one is all good or all bad. And Loki, no one entirely bad does that…everyone’s a mix of good and bad,” you added on.

“What’s your bad parts, Y/N? Any weaknesses” Loki asked curiously.

“I…get jealous…” you confessed.

The god’s jaw lowered to the ground. His voice dared to raise a little bit from his surprise.

“Jealous!? But…you’re…you’re so kind! I’m the jealous one!” he said.

You continued on. The words poured out of you more quickly than you could register or control them.

“It doesn’t mean I never feel jealous. Or am tempted to do things like take her face and smash it over the McDonad’s register.”

“What?!?!”

You stopped. A hand flew over your mouth to cover it. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, what the fuck was I thinking?!?! you cursed silently. Another slip. And this time, he heard it clearly. No hiding around it.

“Whose face are you talking about?” Loki asked further.

“I…Forget that…I didn’t say anything! Good luck with your meet-cute and reunion and all that. Have fun- bye!” you dismissed quickly.

You grabbed your tray.

“Y/N…wait…” he said.

“Where is she going?” Mobius asked, tilting his head. He then remembered he had more sweet and sour sauce with his McNuggets and began dipping into them with a childish glee.

He reached out and grabbed your arm. You pulled against him and he held you back.

“What’s going on!?” the god asked.

“Don’t touch me- save it for her!” you hissed out. Yanking away from him- not even looking at his face.

You looked right at the door and walked hurriedly. Momentum, panic, pulling you out of there. You kept your eyes on the exit as you dumped your trash into the bin. You walked to the outside of the McDonalds. It was sunny with the sun’s orange glow and a little chilly. You got the tempad from your pocket to return. But then you heard Loki jog behind you. You kept walking down the pavement. Glad that there weren’t moving cars right now. If not, you wished a moving one would hit him and send him flying. But it didn’t.

“Y/N, stop!” he insisted.

You stopped walking. But you turned around. You didn’t look at him- only at the rows of cars and empty parking spots in the strip. But you heard him behind you.

“I’ve stopped. Now what?” you asked. At least you could hide behind sass and snark. It made the pain better.

“Whose face were you talking about?” he asked.

“I’ve got to go, Loki,” you urged.

“Y/N, wait!” he cried.

You felt him grab you. He turned you around, his arms gripping you into place. His eyes were intense and his jaw lowered. He still looked so handsome- like a dream. His intensity, the feel of his bare hands on you making it more intense, making him more attractive. You were forced to face him. Your eyes were brimming with more tears. He almost shook you as he held you- so strong. His skin, his scent. Like he wouldn’t let go of that for the world. If only you could experience that for yourself.

“Y/N….are you…jealous of Sylvie?” he asked.

“Yes. I’m sorry I said something about hurting her. I know it was wrong to-but yes. I’m jealous of her. Have been for a while. Isn’t it obvious?” you asked.

“Why?!”

You burst into tears. Your jaw tightened.

“I need to go, Loki…just let go, please,” you begged.

As you moved he held his grip on you.

“No! You’re not going anywhere until you tell me why!” he demanded.

You thought confessions like this should be done in moonlit gardens or sexy hotel suites or something. Not the parking lot of a fucking Mcdonald's. But here you were.

“Why? Because I love you, Loki. More than as my friend-much more.”

“You…love me?” he asked. His eyes were wide. His jaw dropped and then it closed back, his pink lips barely parted.

Your words sputtered out. His grip relaxed on your arms. You had no choice but to look him in the eye and talk.

“ I’ve always loved you…I’ve loved you every afternoon, on weekdays, on coffee breaks. I’ve admired and taken note of every one of your feats. I stayed by when you were sitting at the TVA crying when she opened the multiverse and left you. But…the thing with love…is that it means letting go…”

How handsome he looked. His jacket-how warm would it feel? Would it smell like him? And the shirt that hugged his body. You glanced down and felt twinges of lust mixed with your sadness. With a man as delectable as he, you couldn’t help it. How broad yet lean and strong he was. How his bare skin would feel against your bare skin. How many times have you fantasized nightly about having him in your bed? But there was only one being in these universes and timelines who would know. And it wasn’t you.

“What…Y/N…really…all this time…” Loki murmured.

. You felt anger in your throat and venom in your voice.

“If you think the best relationship you need is with a woman who is literally you with a vagina who you knew for three days and then left you in the dust for her own gain, then take it! Because…beacuase…”

You began to step away. Ready for him to be angry at your words about her. His eyebrows lowered and there was no anger- only his parted lips of shock. You began Crying again. You thought you saw him tear up too.

“Because that’s what you want, what you choose…and I have to let you go…”

You turned on your heels and promptly left. Wiping your tears on your sleeve. Using the tempad, you returned to your home. You ran inside, fell on your bed, and sobbed.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

When Monday began, you were ready to work. You got in your nicer dress and cardigan for the day. The TVA office could get chilly. Right when you walked in, there was Loki. In his own work wear. You froze. What on earth were you going to say? What could you say?

“I was worried about you. How are you, Y/N? Feeling better?” he asked, putting his hands back in his pockets.

“You know…yes….yes I am…” you nodded.

He gave you a kind smile. You waited for him to bring up what happened, what you said. He did not.

“How did…McDonalds go?” you asked.

“For your information, it went alright,” he informed you.

You felt a giant lump in your throat. You pulled your cardigan further over you-looking down on the floor as you spoke.

“The reunion- did she-”

“She just wanted to focus on her job,” Loki answered before you could finish your statement. He went up closer to you. “I hope your day at work goes well, my dear…if any supervisor gives you trouble, they’ll answer to me…wait- there’s a hair on your shirt,” he said.

He gently brushed it away on your shoulder.

“There you go- you look…you look nice today. The colors suit you,” he said.

“Oh, thank you.”

It was a normal, boring day. And the next day was a normal boring day- that was comforting.

When you went into the cafeteria, you decided to buy lunch. After all, it was going to be the best meal they offered at the TVA- grilled ham and cheese with tomato soup-nice and warm. You counted your coins from your pocket to make up the total. It was cheap-but still eating at it every day could take a toll if you weren’t careful.

As you walked up with your change, the cafeteria lady shook her head in her hair net.

“Oh no- it’s on the house!” she said.

She gave you a smile as she brought a tray ready. Your own surprised face gleaming from the glass over the food.

“Really?!” you gasped incredulously.

“Yes-your lunches are free from now on!” announced the cafeteria lady.

“Oh…thank you!” you cried.

Smiling, she handed you a grilled ham and cheese and poured tomato soup into a bowl before handing it to you. They tasted especially warm and decadent.

Loki appeared here and there. But he would ask after you. Talk to you. He never mentioned the warrior goddess version of himself to you. Not anymore, at least. But he didn’t bring up what he said.

As you got to your office desk on the fifth day, he was standing there- waiting for you. Your coworkers were watching with one eye from where they sat and worked. Some even stood up to see.

“Hello, Y/N!” he greeted.

He walked forward and you gasped aloud when he turned. In his white hands was a glass vase full of fresh, beautiful flowers- your favorite kind. Bright and beautiful with a fragrance that sweetened the area that used to be full of the smell of crisp paper and old coffee.

“I…I thought you might like this,” he offered, handing you the vase.

“I…I, uh…uh-thank you,” you said.

Why was he suddenly being nice? It then hit you- he still valued your friendship. Even if he didn’t feel the same, he didn’t want to let you go yet. Probably making peace. But you were in public, this wasn’t the time or place to discuss matters of the heart openly. But…that was better than a full friendship breakup. Of never seeing that mischievous, handsome god ever again.

You smelled the flowers and set them on your desk. He leaned against it, something glinting in his eyes. Something that made you feel fluttery and distracted you from the start of the day.

“How’s the…Kang mission going?” you asked.

“Oh, it’s alright. If not well. A few bumps here and there- but things will probably be fine. You have nothing to fear…but what about you? How is work?” he asked.

“It’s been downright slow the past few days. Then today it’s picked up, but…nothing I can’t handle.” you reported.

He leaned a little closer, the old trickster light beaming in his eyes.

“Anyone being difficult? He asked.

You couldn’t help but smile.

“Some were in the past, but…but no.”

“Then…I hope you have a good day, Y/N. I will talk to you later. Don’t let them work you too hard, darling,” he said.

He gave you a wink that sent butterflies into your stomach and then walked away.

How nice he was. Taking it so well. You always knew there was a little good in him. Even if all that was for someone who didn’t deserve him…

After work, you splurged on cheesecake and a bottle of wine. You were going to need it.

After you got back home, you brought in your goods. You listened to sad music and cried to flush more of it out of your system. Grieving Sylvie and Loki being a couple. Imagining them kissing and doing more than kissing by now a hundred times. You took a hot shower to cleanse every picture of it from yourself. You changed into your pajama shirt and shorts. You sat on your chair in your room, ready to eat a generous helping of cheesecake and a generous glass of wine.

You were going to go somewhere far from the TVA. You had to. Get a new job somewhere. Meet as many men as possible. Try other forms of dating. Or not just dating– just meet anyone. Forget him. Forget Loki. Forget his dark curls and blue eyes and sinful waist in those tight shirts and mischievous smile. Move on from him, move on from being rejected. Even if he was nice to you and wanted to still be friends. You were going to forget it all. Sacred timeline be damned. Your happiness and peace of mind was shattered.

Then it hit you…it was odd that out of nowhere you had free lunches at work. Why was that?

An answer hit you.

Could it…could it be…it was… No. It was bribery. Yes! All bribery because he needed help with some villain who lived in a mansion with purple robes and a flair for the dramatics. All being beside his perfect, flawless girlfriend. Having their love rubbed in your face. You wanted to spit.

Right as you were about to take your first bite of cheesecake, There was a loud knock.

“Y/N…please let me in…I have to talk with you,” a voice you knew too well asked from the door.

You gripped the seat of your chair.

“Loki?! Is that you?” you asked from where you sat.

“Who else, darling?”

“Just use your magic and break into my place!” you replied.

“I’d rather enter with your permission…” he said.

Not caring that you were in your sleepwear, you opened the door. Still in his jacket and TVA office wear, he stepped inside. Your hands curled into fists. He was beautiful as ever-jacket and cheekbones and all. You could have screamed at him. You could have punched him. You could have slammed the door in his face.

But…you didn’t. You couldn’t. You crossed your arms and took a step back, but you looked at him.

“Loki…what are you doing here? What else can I say to you? Thanks for your gifts. I know you need help with Kang but…I can’t…I can’t do it…and you have someone waiting for you. Go to her. Go to who you love.”

“But….I am with who I love…” he replied.

A stone dropped into your stomach. Your whole body tightened. Your breath stopped and your throat ran dry.

He stepped inside. Then he cupped your face with both hands.

“Y/N…I’ve been so blind…” he confessed.

Before another word was said, he kissed you on the lips. Deeply, sweetly. You smelled him- smelled popcorn and musk. Yet he tasted of cream on your lips, of froth. Like a dessert after dinner and twice as sweet. He held you so that your lips could stay together. Then he released, still holding your face.

“Loki…what is this? What’s going on? Is this another…another of your tricks, then…” you asked, your voice only half of its strength.

He kept you close. Looking right at you. His voice was so dulcet, so earnest.

“It’s not. Y/N…I never realized how much you cared for me. How much you really did…and to think…I thought I was alone. But I wasn’t. No one saw me…but you…and to think…all this time I was chasing after someone. A shadow. A dream. An illusion better than any I could conjure. An idea of her. Not realizing…that love, that sweetness I have wanted my whole life…was right in front of me…” he said softly.

“You finally came to your senses!” you cried.

Both of you let out a small laugh at that.

“But…she’s with you to fight Kang- and you’re back together?” you asked.

“She doesn’t remember me. And she… wanted nothing to do with me. It struck me what she did…how she treated me. And then I thought of how you treated me…I kept thinking of you, thinking of you. I missed you. I looked for you. I…I didn’t want to cross paths with her…I realized…there was someone always there for me…yes-you…Oh, Y/N, I’ve been a fool,” he breathed.

He held you and kissed you again and you almost gasped into it. Feeling him. You grabbed onto his jacket. Held him close-felt how close he was. His eyelashes. His tall cheekbones graze against your face. It made you shiver. He let go of the kiss, pressing his forehead onto yours.. Both of you closed your eyes and could hear his breathing fluttering.

“Y/N, my dear…can you forgive me?” he asked.

“I can. Can you forgive me?” you asked.

“I already have.”

He let go. He still kept his eyes on you as he reached his hand to the door and pushed it close. The momentum made it shut. His long finger made a swipe-out of it came a bit of green seidr. And you heard a click! The door locked in place.

“I wanted someone who loved me…who would take care of me…and it was you the whole time….it was you, Y/N…I…I don’t…” he muttered.

He paused. Then he put his hands on his hips and looked down. He licked his lips and his eyes scattered, a blush on his cheeks.

“I don’t…even know what to say now…how to put it…uh, Y/N…I…I, uh-”

“I love you too, Loki…and…I’m glad you’re okay now,” you breathed.

You were on him to kiss him again. He pulled you close. He moved a little tongue in. Your breath hitched from feeling him there. His hands on your back-keeping you pressed against him. Never wanting to let go.

“Y/N…don’t let this end here. Let me stay…let me stay for tonight…” he whispered.

“You can stay,” you said with a nod.

You felt his fingers dig into your skin. To leave his fingerprints on you.

He then moved on to kiss your neck. It tickled you a little. But he found a sensitive spot- a spot rarely kissed. He pressed his lips to it as he held you close. Then he used a bit of teeth. It elicited a groan from you. You felt him tense up as it escaped your lips. He sucked the area.

“Here…now you’ll never doubt that you are mine…and I am yours…”

He made another bite, another mark. Arousal squirmed inside you, releasing out to your panties with his touch, his lips on your skin. He kissed you again and you melted into it. The friction between you was building up. He squared his hips to meet your own and you stifled a gasp. His hands wander down your body-exploring each curve and shape, hidden only by the thin cotton of your sleepwear. Feeling you like a discovery of forgotten land. Finding each nook and curve of your shape inside your clothes. But you did not move an inch away-but kept him there. You ran a hand up to feel his back-always so warm. Masculine even.

“Loki…darling…” you moaned out as he kissed each bit of the sensitive skin between your neck and shoulder. His hands wrapped to be around your back.

He kissed you again. You reached your hand to rake through his dark curls- they had been washed and were so fresh and clean and soft-softer than the petals of the flowers on your desk.

You could feel something getting hard from his office pants. It brushed against the crotch of your own clothes and made you quench beneath.

“Y/N…my pet…I want…I want to have you…to have you now…will you let me?” he asked.

“Yes…yes, I do…I want you…” you agreed.

“Then… let's make up for lost time…” he growled.

He kept kissing you as he put his hands around your waist, grabbing you and taking you right to your bedroom. His hands moving back up to cup your face, to keep kissing you so close. He released and looked down at your clothes. He then touched your collar, seeing where it dipped, and showed a bit of your chest. He smiled as his hands went down, feeling the material.

“If I knew this had any chance of happening, I would’ve worn something else…” you confessed.

“Does that really matter when the best part will always be beneath it?” he asked.

With a flash of seidr from his fingers, the pajamas vanished and you were naked before him. You gasped at the cold. You fought the urge to cover yourself. It wasn’t that this was your first- but to show your body before Loki was a different matter. You have never wanted someone so bad, and you never felt more…vulnerable. Your arms flinched to cover your breasts then he caught you.

“Ah-ah, Don’t hide your beauty from me, not anymore…” he said with a playful tone.

He moved your arms aside to see you. He cupped one breast in his large, beautiful hand- thumb grazing the nipple, making you shiver.

“Yes…that is the best part…” he said.

He kissed you again, his hand wandering down- feeling your bare back. Even grazing your bottom, then going up to your hips, your curves. He was feeling you- treasuring each inch of you. He kissed you again as you connected your hips to his. Electricity shooting through you. You let out a shuddering groan. He gave you another smile- it was so lustful, so devilisih, so him.

“There’s something else I can do, my Y/N…would you like to try it?” he boasted quietly.

“Yes…show me what it is…”

“I can hold you back…tie you without any silk, any rope, any chains, any restraint…” he whispered.

“How?” you pressed.

There was a light flashing in his eyes-so light, so different. From the dim lights of your room out came shadows like his- with his horned helmets on them. The shadows lurched over and you almost gasped. Then they went down to the floor.

“They can touch you- do you want to know what they feel like?” he asked.

“Yes…”

The shadows reached out their arms, traveling up. They felt like mist when they grazed your skin. But then one pulled up your first arm high- and it was strong. You couldn’t break out of it, no matter how you tugged. Then the other lifted your other arm up high. The light was still in Loki’s eyes, the shadows lifted you up before him. A prize free for his taking. He grinned as they wandered on how your position made your breasts dangle before him.

“Now…where were we…ah, yes…” he said.

The shadows were strong but gentle as they moved you over. You were floating-then they laid you on the bed. Your arms were lifted to remain high over your head as your back went over the duvet. Your arms were held over your head, laying over the pillow.

“I…I like this power…”

He smirked, his hands still in his pockets.

“As do I…and I am bout to like them even more…”

More shadows appeared- they flicked across your legs.

“What pleasure is hidden between here- they can help show me, perhaps…”

They curled to your ankles and then gently opened your legs before him.-showing your dripping pussy before the god. He played cool. Only his quick breaths and the bulge in his pants hinted at his craving, his desire. Your breasts out and your legs opened- nothing hidden. Now the shadows had you out and open-something for him to devour, something out to be fucked.

He walked forward. He brought out a long finger. He touched your folds gently, sliding them down. You let out a gasp.

“L-Loki…” you breathed out. It was so sinful, so filthy you couldn’t help but love it.

“Why…this is quite the picture. If I could only paint it…but I only want this masterpiece for myself, and no one else.” he rasped.

He walked over to the bed. Then he crawled so he was between your legs. The shadows keeping your legs open. His hand grazed over your inner thigh.

“Here…you’ve been a good little angel Taking care of me. Shhhh-shhh- you don’t need to object, to think of my pleasure for now. You’ve worked so hard…now relax…let your god take care of you this time, darling.”

You were gasping and whimpering. He began to taste you- his tongue inside. He groaned as his tongue went further into your folds. His cold breath against your private wetness made public for him. Your arms flinched but the shadows held you tight. He flicked his tongue and you let out a small groan.

“L-L-Loki…yes…I-oh, oh god-yes…” you sputtered out.

His shadows lifted your hips so he could taste further. His tongue delved. It found your clit and you shuddered from it. He gave a few licks. He went up closer to where your clitoris was swollen and waiting for him. Then he stopped.

“Now this…this tastes better than any of those Midgardian meal down there…This one is sweeter, with much more juices…and this one I can devour at no cost at all…”

You were whimpering-letting him lick your clit. Letting his tongue go through- each bit of you. Explore you. Your own cries filled you up. But the shadows kept you wide open.

“L-Loki…that…that feels so-so good…”

With a small gasp, you felt pleasure spiral in you. He licked a bit further-and soon it broke on you. Like the wings of a bird when it catches the wind and lifts up. The pleasure burst and you let out a gasp from your petit mort.

Your heart was racing, and your blood coursing through you. Loki was smiling- his lips wet with your juices. And still fully clothed.

“I hope they don’t replace me-I’ve yet to get my hands on you again, my pet.”

He crawled on top of you. He kissed you so his tongue got into yours-another hole for him to claim. You could taste your own earthy scent and thick juices. Still restrained, he held you, grinding lightly onto you. Your hips lifted a little to meet his- no shadows needed. But you felt their cool touch curling around you. Touching all over you- he wanted to touch you, feel you, know you, devour you in every way.

“Please…I want more…I want you…I want you inside of me, Loki…” you begged.

He smirked, a curl coming loose on his face.

“Oh…my tongue was only to prepare you, my dear…I hope you are ready…”

“Yes…yes-please..I want you to fuck me, fuck me until I forget everything else…forget Kang, the TVA, timelines, all of it! I don’t care if it’s by your shadow’s cock or yours- I need you! All of you!”

“You need only ask, my dove,” he purred.

The green seidr flashed with a tilt of his head, then down it went. It melted his clothes off. He became naked. You underestimated how fit his body was. You forgot your words at this sight of his nakedness. How strong, muscled, and broad he was despite his leanness. His masculine hairs across his chest-his large, strong biceps. Abdominals and a very happy trail leading to his erect largeness. The shadows curled their grip around you. They pulled your legs to open wider.

“I hope you’re ready for the love of a god,” he murmured.

He embraced you, kissing you as he began to sink in. Bit by slow bit. He got himself in, groaning. You let out a cry when all of him was inside. He was so big, you had to adjust. Your arms flinched again but they remained held back. His arms reached around you-keeping you close. He then held you- his own hands digging into your hips and thrusting into you.

“Oh-oh, god!” you whimpered

“That’s- that’s what I like to- to hear-shall you try it again? Yes- yes-urgh- so-so tight, my love-yes-” he growled.

He began to slowly thrust into you. He groaned into it- slow, but steady. Intruding your insides. He rolled with you, a gentle rolling of his body. Kissing you deeply. Then he kept at it. Your voice escaped you. His cock disappeared and reemerged. But he looked at your face, in your eyes as he fucked you into your bed.

With a flick of his head, the shadows moved your legs so that your knees bent and you were angled deeper.

“Fuck! Oh-oh dear-Loki I-I-I can’t-shit-can’t believe this-this is-fuck- happening--happening right now-it’s-it’s-its-fuck!- too good to be true-” you breathed.

“Oh, it’s-it’s true darling…”

He thrust carefully, slowly. Then he picked up. His voice was like that of a hiss, right into your ear.

“And you’re-” Thrust. “-Mine.” Thrust.

He kept kissing you as he thrust, thrust, thrust. His shadows testing you, splaying you a little more open. Hearing each other's groans. Moaning your name, repeating it like a prayer of his own. A prayer only a god could give. His own grunts were deep and guttural. He found the right pace. Painting with each thrust, thrust, thrust.

“Yes…yes, you’re-you’re mine and-yes-I will…I will be yours-we are at each other’s mercy…now…yes-”

His pace increased. His shadows holding you back bed hitting itself against the wall. Then the shadows moved so your legs flew right up by him. It was so wild, so fast. Then his long finger curled to your entrance. Finding the clit. Rubbing so hard- so much. Slam, slam, slam, slam. You gasped- it was the right, perfect place. You were going up, up in your pleasure. His finger tested your clit faster, harder with his thrusts. You felt his voice, his groans rising in pitch. And that bubbling, spinning feeling was going inside you, your toes clenching as your legs were up in the air.

“Oh…oh gods…Loki…I’m going to cum again-I-I am…”

He held you close- this time his own flesh-his thrusts wilder, desperate. He was breathless, with every gasp, every taking in of pleasure, he urged you. His voice husky and to the point of breaking.

“Yes-yes-go-there-I…I can’t—cum, darling, cum with me-your heat, your wetness-it’s going to-going to overwhelm me-I…I can’t I-yes-yes-cry out-cry out my name, darling…I-I-I-”

His thrusts were so wild, pounding you right into the bed. Nailing you there, completely taking you over. That sweet spot- thrust, thrust, thrust, thrust, thrust-when it hit like lightning that you let out what started as his name, and then you hit it, it became a shout.

“L-Ah!”

It reverberated throughout your home. Whoever was next door or nearby would definitely hear it. With a strangled cry of his own, he arrived as well.

His shadows retreated. He still wrapped his arms around you, nuzzling into you. His arms wrapping around you. He felt so warm- you could smell his sweat, feel how he had to catch his breath. Your heart was still reeling after that bout of pleasure. He hugged you close.

“Holy shit…” you breathed out.

He let out a small smile and you both laughed.

“To think I could’ve been enjoying…that all this time, my dear…” he said, he kissed you on the forehead. “And now…I hope you don’t mind that again….”

“Can it be every day?” you asked.

“Of course!” he laughed.

He sighed as you settled into each other.

“What are we going to tell Mobius…the TVA?” you wondered.

“We’ll think of something…” he said.

You sat up, wrapping the blanket around you. With a bit of magic, he conjured a large shirt over you-soft and comfortable.

“I was going to get some wine and Cheesecake- would you like any?” you asked.

“Both Sounds lovely to me…but Y/N…I am genuinely sorry, I really am.” he said, his eyes wide and sweet.

“And I genuinely forgive you…emotions make people do things-”

He grinned.

“Such as this,”

He pulled you to his lap. You hugged and kissed his cheek. Yes, you would figure out life as a couple in the TVA together. Life with some new villain back and on the rise. But for now…you had to just enjoy each other. This new, blossoming, new love. Yes- how good that word felt rumbling in your mind. It echoed as he joined you to get plates and glasses.

You both smiled as you had your first sips and ate your first bites. He thanked you with a kiss- tasting sweeter than any food, dessert or dinner- could ever taste to you.

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sosa2imagines · 5 months

Text

I had my dance and now I'm where I belong.

Warning- Angst, cheating and hopeful fluff. ----------------------------------------------------- Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Completed -----------------------------------------------------

When they say love is blind it truly is blind cause all the red flags turn color blind. You had noticed changes in his behavior and you also noticed the little things he’d stop doing. Even when Bucky was in Wakanda you remained by his side like glue. Slowly he started to regain his memories and the old Bucky was back not completely though. So when he started to flirt with other girls or when someone random made a pass at him he never denied them you foolish thought he is acting his old 40s self just like Steve had told you once the evergreen womanizer so you ignored it till it was getting out of hand so one day you confronted him but he just said you are overreacting and it's cute to see you getting jealous and the confrontation would end up with a kiss followed by sex every single time when he did it again.

Thanos took a toll on all of you but thankfully everyone were back safe and sound. Tony took semi retirement and Clint too, Nat handle the tower Wanda was in and out cause Vision was in Wakanda and Steve you best friend and once upon a time crush was getting ready to return the stones. "Hey" you coo, "Hey" he beams at you "Ready?" Looking at the compass he looked at you with a sad smile "Yes as ever I will be" "Enjoy your dance Steve and know where you belong ok?" the true meaning behind your words were that you were begging him to have his dance with Peggy and to return back to you guys but that didn't happen as soon as Steve told Bucky not to do anything stupid and when he complained Steve is taking all the stupid with himself you knew he won't come back and just like that he was gone. You cried all night long and Bucky held on to you tight he was equally sad and cried along with you.

It had been fifteen days since Steve left and new recruits had joined Nat and you were training them Bucky helped in between but that didn't stop him from flirting with the girls Nat found it weird and you tried to cover it by saying he is missing Steve and everything is tough for him at the moment but Nat was not having none of it and banned Bucky from training the recruits. Soon he and Sam left on a mission in London and here begins the downfall of your relationship. "Sharon?" Bucky was shocked to see her "What are you doing here?" "Undercover Barnes shield sent me to help you guys" So just like that she was helping them and when they both got separated from Sam and their cover almost blew up Sharon thought it is a great idea to kiss Bucky and he kissed her back and one thing led to another for the time they were in London they had sex daily. When Sam found out he was furious but Bucky told him he would come clean to you but not in the way Sam had thought.

Once they were back Sharon accompanied them she told you all she was helping them in the mission. The day Bucky arrived he went straight to his old room instead of your shared one you decided to let him be it was not new for him to stay alone after a mission but for days Bucky avoided you your heart was paining the glob in your throat wanted to explode Nat was worried about you and Sharon was still living in the tower and now Bucky would only train with her and it killed you when he would talk with everyone except you day by day you were getting killed by the love of your life you would cry to sleep every night, Bucky would sleep far on his side of the bed he would only enter the room late in the night. You started to miss Steve terribly if he was here he would have helped you even kicked Bucky's ass. Weird sexual noises would come from Sharon's room but it was none of your concern except it was. Sam had enough he gave Bucky last warning to come clean and Bucky was ready as if he was tired hiding his 'relationship' with Sharon. It was like almost on purpose both of them decided to show you what was happening behind your back Bucky and Sharon were making out in your shared room you were standing there numb tears flowing freely you gave them few more minutes before opening your mouth "are you done?" Bucky sighed and got up he told Sharon to wait in her room on her way she smirked at you like she won some competition. "I’m sorry Y/n it's over I'm in love with Sharon, I have packed your bags please go back to your old room." You scoffed at him "Just her Buck? So what about those, who you flirt with?" Bucky was quiet he knew he deserve your venom. "I have loved you so deeply but James I can’t forgive you, maybe one day in the future, I have been stood by your side through every single thing that has happened to you and yet you betray me." "Can you give an hour please", he nodded and left the room. You open the packed bags just like you had thought he had packed the things he gifted you, you picked out every single of them and kept them on the bed. Once you were done it was time to face the music the time you were busy re packing since Sam and Wanda were out Bucky told Nat you two broke up hiding the real reason. So when Nat came and asked you what happened you went along with Bucky's lie but karma was in your favor Wanda and Sam had just arrived Sam called Bucky a liar Nat was confused that gave Wanda time to read your mind you begged them not to tell Tony the whole truth you were like sister to him and it took a lot of hard work and trust for Tony to forgive Bucky and you did not wanted to ruin what Steve had worked upon. "Where are you going Y/n?" Nat asks, Wanda was crying feeling your suffocating pain, Sam was saying sorry over and over for not telling you sooner but you forgave him, it's not his fault Bucky couldn't keep it in his pants. "I need some alone time Nat please I can't breathe here give me some time" "You call us everyday ok no call we will bring you back!" Wanda warned understanding your need to go away, you nodded hugging Wanda and Nat, Sam was furious "He should go not you" "No Sam please be nice to him for Steve" and with last look you left. Once the team knew about what had actually happened they gave Bucky hell for what he did to you. Bucky however was feeling very guilty for how things did go down he did love you at one point but that didn't stopped him and Sharon making things official just after a week you left. Things were awkward for him with the team.

Meanwhile in the past Steve did have his dance but he was not happy Peggy had moved on but that was not what was bothering him he was worried about you, he open his compass that had your photo truth is Peggy was his first love but you made home in his heart Peggy was only a memory he only loved you wanted a family with you but when he saw Bucky falling for you he took a step back the ever thinking about other's happiness he let Bucky take you away. Steve decided it was time to head back to his love but most importantly his best friend you.

----------------------------------------------------- Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Completed

#bucky barnes angst #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fluff #sebastian stan characters #chris evans characters #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader angst #steve rogers x reader fluff

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whorediaries-09 · 4 months

Note

part two of maroon where they have an angsty arguement and both of them are crying and screaming and harry cries so they have to put him to sleep and then talk, but they end up kissing.

part two of maroon? sure.

the great war;

pairing- sirius black x reader warning(s)- angst, hurt/comfort. (let me know if i should add more.) a/n- i think i really kinda hate this one.

ps- changed the plot kinda cause like my mind only went with this.

the slut club

and we will never go back to that bloodshed, crimson clover

in the bustling city of london, a cacophony of sound engulfs the snowflakes falling from the transcendent sky. you clutch your hands underneath the warmth of your coat, hiding your nose under the layers of scarf you had wrapped around your neck. tom handed you a firewhiskey and you let the warm liquid flow down your throat like a bittersweet memory.

it was another day with failure. you had been trying to find a job for remus, but rarely anyone would accept a werewolf as their assistant. you worked as a healer, so you couldn't possibly hire him as your assistant. and he remained too modest to accept money without any reason.

'thanks tom,' you say, your voice muffled against warm wool. you cling a few sickles on the counter. 'keep the change.'

you disapparate to your house. the cold metal of your keys jingle under your grip, and you unlock your door.

'harry, honey, i'm home,' you call out. your heart skips a beat when the regular trotting of small steps don't ponder at your call. you shout his name louder and your voice echoes in your hollow hallway.

the silence that echoes in your dull heartbeat is stronger. flashing memories of walking past james' dead body to discover lily's corpse flooded your mind and your footsteps faltered as you walked into your bedroom. anger throbbed inside you, anger at yourself and sirius. you had told him to stay with harry. why hadn't he come?

your fears weren't true. sirius lay in his dog form with harry on top of him. both of them seemed to be fast asleep.

'sirius, wake up. i'm here.' you say, picking up harry from his body. you place a soft kiss on his forehead, and your unintentional tears wet his cheek. you wipe off the tear before it would flow down his neck.

sirius gets up from the floor. you notice a bruise on his neck, but you don't question it. you sway harry in your arms, walking towards his cot.

'let me have him for the night,'

you stop dead in your tracks. with your back turned to his face, you're not hesitant when you offer him your reply.

'no.'

'why not?'

'i'd let you have him if your trauma wasn't so fresh. you're coping mechanisms aren't fit enough to keep a baby,'

'what the fuck do you mean by that?'

you place harry in his cot, turning towards him.

'don't curse. you know very well what i mean.'

'oh- so you're going to stand there pretending you're the best mother ever?'

'i never said that, no. i just have comparatively better coping mechanisms. and i'm not shaming you for your coping mechanisms either. so really, don't take any offence,'

'no offence my foot, i'm his godfather!'

'i'm his godmother, sirius,'

'godmother? oh yeah the great mother. don't stand there acting like a saint when i take care of him throughout the day. you just go out and be a healer. you don't care about him.'

you're not sure if his words are meant to sting. but they do. like little pricks absorbing into your heart with every second you stare into his eyes. your vision is blurred, hazed but your mind is clear as day. you feel bruised like violets. it was like taking your poison all alone. your breathing is rugged, hot tears flowing down your cheeks. you were diesel, a desire.

and he was playing with fire.

'i-i'm sorry i didn't mean that,' he says, his voice cracking. he moves closer to you, holding you. and maybe it's the familiarity of his touch. but it felt like bloodshed, a lost morning glory within the grasps of an unfair war. you feel like you're sinking when his scent haunts you again. you feel like you're on fire when his touch thrives into your skin again. you feel like you gather storms, never knowing what they'll mean.

you're not sure whether he wants to haunt you again or not. you're not sure whether he wants to go with grace or not. you're not sure if you're dead to him.

your tears paint his shirt. the war was over, the battleships would sink beneath the waves. so was the bloodshed. you'd never weep in a sunlit room alone. it was a cold ghostly grace of his lips against yours. which cursed your name, wrecked you. it was your home, it was engraved in your bones.

and maybe his love would never slip out of your reaches.

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ghoststyles · 10 months

Text

Fairway to Heaven - Part 6

WC: 8.8K

Part 1| Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

_________________________________________________________________

Instead of hurt, betrayal or disgust, Briar feels heartbroken. Heartbroken Harry had to endure that. She moves closer, embracing him in a hug.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he violently cries into her shoulder. She rubs circles on his back, letting him get out his upset and frustration.

“You didn’t deserve that. At all,” Briar says softly. Harry nods, just thankful she’s not upset at him. It took him years of therapy to be able to openly speak about his situation.

“Do you know his name?”

“Oliver,” Harry rasps.

“That’s beautiful. I bet he looks so much like you. I bet he has your kind eyes. Your charm. Your ability to make anyone feel special. I bet he’s clumsy like you. And I bet he’d like to meet you, too,” Briar says slowly.

Harry cries harder, the sobs wracking his body.

They sit there for over an hour before Harry finally calms down. He musters up the courage to look at her. His eyes are so puffy and red, and snot is dripping from his nose.

“I understand if you’re upset with me, and if you never want to see me again,” he sighs in defeat.

“Harry, look at me,” Briar grabs his face and runs her thumb along his cheek. “I’m absolutely not mad. I wouldn’t wish this situation on anyone. I want to help you deal with this, whatever way you need to.”

“Thank you,” he whispers. “I think I want to sleep for a while.”

“Of course, let’s go up.”

“Harry, baby. Wake up,” Briar whispers, gently waking Harry from his sleep. It’s well past 11AM. She called Niall to let him know Harry isn’t feeling well.

Harry stirs, the memories of last night flooding his mind. He’s not even sure if he slept. Briar runs her finger nails along his back, gently soothing him.

“I called us both out of work today, so we’re going to spend it how you want to.”

Harry exhales. He can’t even think of the last time he took a day off. Or the last time he had a panic attack. The two probably coincide.

When Camille left him, he buried himself in work. He quickly rose to the top as an associate, eventually becoming a manager. Now that his predecessors are retiring, Harry sometimes works from 6AM until 8PM. Even on Christmas Day.

He takes some labored deep breaths.

“Can we go get breakfast?”

Briar scrunches her eyebrows, not expecting his answer.

“Of course. Take your time getting dressed.”

Briar leaves the room, already having been up and dressed for hours. She tossed and turned wondering how anyone could treat him that way. Harry loves so strongly and so deeply. She already knows he’d be an incredible father, based on his love for Gus. But, she didn’t know him in his 20’s and 30’s. Maybe he wasn’t as mature as he his now.

Her heart broke again watching him sleep. He looked sad, even when unconscious.

Harry eventually comes downstairs, slowly and solemnly. He pets Gus, reveling in his fluff. He is truly their emotional support dog.

“C-can we go to this place to get a full English? You’ve had it before, right?”

“Yes, when I went to London in high school. Will you eat my beans?”

Harry laughs softly, “Yes, I’ll eat your beans.”

She guides him out to her car, knowing he’s probably not in a state to drive. She’s too nervous to drive his nice car. It’s a beautiful day, so she took the top of her jeep off. She can’t wait to see his hair flying in the wind.

They pull up to his requested breakfast spot. The parking lot is a little deserted. She is relieved, because if he needs to cry a little he can do so without judgement.

The waitress greets them with a chipper tone, but quickly adjusts based on their sad demeanor. Briar orders them both a coffee and full English breakfasts.

They sit in silence for a while.

“I know I don’t know her, but, should you call your mom? Is this something you’d talk to her about?”

“I did in the beginning; my sister, too. But then it just became a cycle of discussing the same thing over and over. So I just stopped bringing it up.”

Briar nods, knowing the feeling. After her dad died, she was enrolled in therapy. As a 6 year old, she didn’t have much else to talk about.

“I saw a therapist for a while. I was a little unwilling to talk about any of my other issues, so after a while they just gave me a prescription and sent me on my way. I felt like I got kicked out.”

Briar grabs his hand across the table, squeezing it. “That’s the tough part of it; they give you the tools and you’re supposed to just figure out how to use them. There were so many times I just wished my therapist had told me what to do and what to say.”

Harry hums. The food arrives a few minutes later. He gently breaks his egg yolk, “I’d really like you to meet my mum and sister.”

She smiles, “Aw, yes, I’d love to. It didn’t even cross my mind since you met mine so early on. Well, not my mom, I guess.”

“When was the last time you saw her?” He asks, happy to move onto a different topic.

Briar blows air out of her mouth as she tries to recall the last time she saw her mother.

“Christmas, I guess.”

“Can I meet her? Or do you just want to wait until it happens organically?”

“No, no. I should call her soon, anyway. I’ll try and set something up,” Briar says, pushing her food around. She supposes they're both facing their demons head-on today. “Do you mind if my brothers come? They usually need to be coerced into seeing her.”

“Of course not. Whatever is most comfortable for you guys.”

They eat in silence, only speaking up when the waitress returns to the table every so often.

“I send him birthday cards,” Harry says, staring at his hands.

Briar lifts her head, giving him a look to continue his thought.

“Every year around Christmas time. I’m not even really sure when his birthday is. I’ve never written a note, or anything. I just sign my name ‘Harry’. For all I know, she’s never even told him about me. Or even given him the cards.”

Briar’s sadness returns, evident in her facial expression.

“H-have you tried contacting your mutual friend? The one that introduced you?”

“I did, years ago. Everything was kind of fresh at that point, and I definitely think he took sides. I’m pretty sure they’re together now. His parents own an art gallery and are involved in high-society over there,” he coughs. “I just look like a schmuck in comparison. The craziest part of it all, I don’t know what I did to deserve no contact. I’m scared I’ll die never knowing.”

Briar closes her eyes, willing herself not to cry, “Did you ever fly to France to try and find her? Or her family?”

“I did. Once. I’d say about 6 months later. I drank whiskey the entire flight to Paris. I didn’t even have any luggage with me. I just marched off the plane and went to where I last knew she lived. I should’ve known her keeping her Paris apartment meant something.”

“You couldn’t have known,” Briar says softly.

“I knocked on the door. She opened it so quickly. I think she was expecting someone else. Her jaw dropped, and she tried to close the door on me. I was able to get inside, but she started throwing bottles at me. Then she threatened to get a restraining order against me. She was really showing at that point, so I didn’t want it the police to get involved.”

Briar is horrified the more he tells her.

“I went home to my mum’s for a while. Then flew back to the US and just went back to work. I can’t say I’ve done anything substantial since then.”

“Oh, stop. You renovated a gorgeous house. You started going back to Wynnewood. You’ve become your own boss,” Briar rattles off his accomplishments.

“I just thought I’d be married by now,” Harry chokes up a bit. She moves to his side of the table, leaning her head on his shoulder.

“I know this is ironic coming from a 23 year old; but, there’s no timeline on life, baby. You faced adversity and are moving on from it. That takes a lot of courage.”

Harry chuckles, wiping away a stray tear. Briar is so emotionally intelligent for a 23 year old.

They leave the café, opting to go back to Harry’s house. They grab books from his shelf and read them outside on his comfy lounge chair under the cabana, hoping the sunshine heals them both. Harry eventually dozes off, finally achieving deep sleep after a rocky 24 hours.

Briar massages his head, twirling his curls in between her fingers. As much as she wants to comfort him, she can’t help her tendencies to meddle.

She visits Niall’s Instagram, immediately checking his following list. She scrolls, closely examining every profile to find even a tiny breadcrumb that could lead her to Camille. Harry never said her last name, so she’ll have to pull out the big guns of internet stalking.

Nothing stands out tremendously; He doesn’t follow many people. Just a few OnlyFans models, golf companies and Barstool Sports. She spots a familiar name, Lydia…Where does she know that name from?

Briar’s thumb gives one last ditch effort scroll, when she lands on an account: @Fingermonkey

She clicks on it, and her heart immediately stops. Camille. The woman who made her boyfriend lose sight of who he was. The account is public, so she cautiously proceeds.

She’s a striking woman; she can see why Harry fell for her. She exudes beauty and class. It’s almost palpable.

Briar shudders, unsure if she should continue. She’s on her page for selfish reasons; to see Harry’s son. Her curiosity gets the best of her. She scrolls some more, before stopping at a photo of a tiny hand. Briar bites her lip, staring back down at Harry.

“No going back,” she whispers to herself.

After another few scrolls, she finds what she’s looking for. It’s from around 5 years ago. Camille is holding a tiny boy with dark brown curls and green eyes, bright as day. They’re on the swings, bright smiles adorning their faces.

Briar feels like she’s been sucker punched in the stomach. He’s a beautiful little boy. A boy Harry never even got the chance to love and help raise. She takes several deep breaths and scrolls back even further to 8 years prior.

Another blow. The engagement photos.

Briar winces, zooming in. They seem to be taken in California, just as the sun is setting. Camille is holding Harry’s face as she kisses him, the ring being the main focal point. She reads the caption:

J'ai trouvé mon éternité.

I found my forever.

She clicks off Camille’s page, rolling her eyes. She clears the search history, knowing she’s been caught stalking in the past.

Briar has so many questions.

Does she want Harry to find her? Why is Niall still following her?

Briar is physically at Wynnewood, but mentally elsewhere. After her stalking session, Harry woke up feeling better, so they decided she should go home. As much as he loves her company, he always needs alone time to process things. She was happy to oblige, needing her own time to breathe.

Briar is taking inventory after her shift when she spots Niall on the practice green. A lump forms in her throat, but she knows she needs to confide in him. He smiles, waving her over.

“Hey, Briar. I heard about the other day. I was up in the clubhouse already when everything went down. How’re you doing?” He asks, pulling her in for a hug.

“I’m good, thanks for asking. Everything was taken care of, so I just needed some time to shake it off.”

He nods, fiddling with his putter. Niall looks around, not really sure what else to say.

“Hey, Niall, can I ask you something?”

His eyes go wide, clearing his throat, “Listen, if it’s about Lydia and I…”

Finally, it clicks. Lydia from the party. Lydia who told her she’s also dating someone from the club. Briar gasps, “I, uh, what?”

“Fuck.”

Briar crosses her arms in front of herself, “Um, I was just going to tell you that Harry told me about Camille, and about the baby.”

“Fuuuuck,” Niall scratches the back of his head. “Can you ignore what I said before?”

Briar laughs, “For now. We can talk about that later. I just wanted to see if you had other insight. It was obviously a very emotionally charged conversation.”

“Yeah. Are you off now? Do you want to go inside for a drink?”

She nods and waits for him to clean up his stuff. They walk back to the clubhouse in silence, so Briar grabs a table outside while Niall changes in the locker room. The club is empty enough, so she’s not worried about members seeing them together.

He sits down, sighing, “I-I don’t really know how to proceed. Do you just want to tell me what he’s told you?”

“Sure,” she says quietly. Briar begins filling him in about their dinner at Ashmont and Jonathan revealing more than Harry was willing to share. Her heart races as she shares more details.

“That’s tough, darling. I know he was going to tell you eventually. The situation absolutely wrecked him. It took years to feel like I had my friend back.”

She nods, biting her lip, staring down at her shoes. Harry bought her a pair of lavender and white New Balances; her initials stitched in the tongue.

“You’re a very rational person, even at your age,” he smiles, leaning to put his elbows on his knees. “So, I know you’ll both work through it. But, what are your feelings?”

Briar sucks in a breath. “I’m not angry, and I want to support him, of course. But, I can’t help but have this sinking feeling in my stomach. I did some Instagram stalking.”

“You found Camille on there?”

“Yeah, through your account,” she waits for Niall to look back up at her.

He meets her eyes, “I keep a distance. I don’t speak to her or our mutual friends from study abroad. But I like to keep tabs. He’s my mate and I want to protect him.”

Briar nods, picking the skin at her cuticles.

“He’s a cute kid, isn’t he?” Niall smiles.

“Yeah, he is. Harry didn’t deserve that. At all,” she says, sitting back in her seat. “Should I meddle? Or just stay out of it?”

“I would hate to see this kid get any older without meeting his father. And, if you think you’ll be,” he trails off, smiling to himself. “Sticking around for a while, I think you have the influence on him to face it head on.”

“I hope I’ll be sticking around for a while,” she smiles.

Briar feels slightly better after talking to Niall. She has to remember to ask Harry if he knew about Lydia.

Briar was in need of some cathartic release. If Harry was willing to face this obstacle, she’s willing to face hers. She sits in the driver’s seat of her Jeep and scrolls her list of contacts before landing on Catherine Barlowe.

She dials, going through several cycles before finally being answered on the final ring.

“Hi, Bri. How are you, sweetheart?”

“Hi, Mom. I’m good, how are you?”

“I’m so good, honey. I’m so happy to hear from you. Dean and I are actually getting ready to move in a few weeks.”

“Oh? Where are you going?” Briar scrunches her eyebrows. That means her mom is selling the house she bought with her dad. The house she lived her first 9 years in before her mother’s addiction led to the 5 of them being placed with her aunt and uncle.

“I thought your brother may have told you. We’re going to California, honey.”

“Who? I thought the last time we all saw you was at Christmas time? And why California?”

“Jasper. He comes to see me. A lot more recently. The other boys only contact me when you do. I don’t think I’ll ever hear from Welles on his own,” Catherine sighs. “Dean is from California. He has young daughters, so we’re moving there to be closer to them. You remember? I told you about them.”

Tears begin welling in Briar’s eyes. Her mother, now 4 years sober and remarried gets to go play house with Dean’s young children. Instead of tending to her own.

“Yeah, I remember. There’s three of them, right? But they weren’t at the wedding,” Briar says quietly, remembering the rushed ceremony that took place the week after they finished their program together. Welles was furious, Jasper and Callum didn’t say a word, and Cormac cried the entire time. Patrick couldn’t bear to go. Meredith went in support of the siblings.

“Yes, he didn’t have custody rights at the time. But, that’s all settled now. We’re so happy, Bri.”

“I’m glad, Mom. Listen, I have to go, but I wanted to see if you’d be interested in going out to lunch soon. I’d like you to meet my boyfriend,” she rasps out.

“That sounds great, honey. Just text me the details. Talk soon.”

“Bye,” Briar chokes, throwing her phone into the passenger seat. She takes a few deep breaths to regulate her breathing. The tears continue to fall as she pulls out of the parking lot of Wynnewood.

Her phone begins to buzz, seeing Harry’s contact photo pop up.

“Hi,” she says solemnly before placing the phone between her shoulder and ear.

“Hi, Birdie. Are you okay?” He asks, sensing her tone.

“Yeah, yep, I’m good. What’s up?”

“Nothing, I figured you’re leaving Wynnewood. Was gonna see if you want to grab Gus and come over. I can make us dinner.”

“Um, I’m kind of tired. Think I’m just gonna go home, if that’s alright.”

“No, yeah, of course, love. Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yes, I promise. I’ll text you when I get home, okay?”

“Okay,” he says softly. “Bye.”

She hangs up, not even bothering to say bye. Briar knows she shouldn’t take it out on Harry, but she’s struggling to hold herself together. She hears a crack of thunder before feeling thick rain drops hit her face.

“Fuck!”

Briar never put her Wrangler’s roof back on the other day. The droplets get more intense as she nears her apartment. Pulling into her spot, she frantically runs to her storage area to grab her roof parts.

It’s down pouring now, but she charges forward with her parts, lining them against the car. Her biceps are burning trying to lift the piece on top of the car. Tears are starting to roll down her face, her hair beginning to stick to her neck.

Briar squeezes her eyes closed, defeated as she feels two arms wrap around her. She whips her head around, startled by her boyfriend.

“What’s going on, love? Let me help,” Harry says, pulling her down from the step of her Jeep. She steps to the side under her apartment’s overhang, watching him effortlessly put the roof of her Jeep back together. He’s absolutely soaked, his gray sweatpants now a charcoal color. She watches the way his back muscles move under his white t-shirt.

He fastens the parts from the inside of the car before grabbing her backpack in one hand, and her hand in the other. He guides her to her apartment while fumbling with her keys. Gus greets them at the door, unsure who to go to first.

Harry sits Briar down on her ottoman before grabbing the fuzzy blanket from her sofa.

“What’s going on? I’m a little scared,” Harry says, his eyes full of concern.

She takes a shaky breath before sobs take over her whole body. She folds in on herself, burrowing into the blanket.

“I-I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry,” she wails. Harry is stunned, unsure what she’s apologizing for.

“I should be supporting you and here I am getting so overwhelmed and then trying to deal with my own bullshit,” Briar cries. He places his hand gently on her back.

“Baby, I’m lost. Did something happen today?”

“I called my mom. She’s moving to California to raise her new husband’s kids,” Briar cries, snot pouring from her nose. “I should’ve fucking known. I don’t even know why I called.”

Harry can’t help but feel a little guilty. He mentioned it at their breakfast to get himself out of the hot seat. She took his bait.

“And because I can’t stop meddling, I looked up Camille online,” she confesses. “I even talked to Niall about it all.”

Harry freezes. He figured she would confide in Niall. But he didn’t think she’d look Camille up. He’s too afraid to ask what she found.

Harry guides her to sit up. He grabs her cheeks with one hand and makes her face him, “Hey. Hey. I need you to breathe, Briar.”

Briar cries harder at his use of her name. She can feel herself start to hyperventilate. He wraps himself around her tight. He holds her until she stops shaking. Gus has brought them 5 of his toys to try and lighten the mood.

“Gus, go to your bed,” Harry commands, voice deep. Briar flinches.

She lifts her head, taking in a deep breath.

“I hurt my own feelings today. I went looking for information I shouldn’t’ve,” she admits quietly.

“I think we all do that sometimes. Which part do you want to talk about first?”

Briar loves how diplomatic Harry is. Even when they have their spats, he always makes her feel like an equal partner. She also loves when he completely dominates her in the bed right after.

“W-we can talk about my mom,” she says, assuming that’s the easier of the two. “Her husband has 3 young daughters. So, now my mom gets a do-over. Poof. Our family is just out of the picture.”

Harry sighs. His father did something similar after his parents divorced. It stung for years, and took time to mend. Now they’re very close.

“That’s awful, Birdie. I’m so sorry. Are you going to see her before she leaves?”

She nods, wiping her nose on his chest, “Yeah, told her about you. Apparently my brother has been visiting her in secret. I’m so angry.”

He smiles lightly, “I’m happy to come along. Or not. Whichever makes you more comfortable. Don’t hold it against him. You all have to deal with things differently.”

“Thank you,” she says.

“Of course, baby. Now, do you want to tell me about the other situation?”

“Only if you want to. I crossed a line,” she starts to cry again.

She wraps her hand within his, squeezing tightly. Comfortable silence is usually never an issue for them, but the tension could be cut with a knife.

“Well, social media is public information, baby. I could’ve done it years ago, but never did.”

“I saw him,” Briar blurts out. It was now or never.

Harry closes his eyes, feeling nauseous. He takes a deep breath through his nostrils, “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. He’s gorgeous, Harry. Really,” she sniffles. “You shouldn’t give up. She’s wrong for what she did. And I want to help you fight for this.”

He can’t help but feel his heart swell with pride. His tough girl is ready to sit in the trenches with him. To fight the biggest demon holding him back from his happiness.

“I wrote a letter years ago,” Harry starts. “Let’s send it.”

Briar gasps, sitting up to face him, “I don’t want you to feel pressured by me.”

“I’m not. I’m not sure if this is too soon, but I already know I want to keep you around for a long, long time. This will help me get over my last hurdle.”

Briar cradles his face, kissing him gently.

“I’m yours, if you’ll have me.”

They huddle together.

Briar starts to snicker, “Did you have any idea that Niall and Lydia, the server from the club, are dating?”

Harry’s head shoots up, “Huh?”

“Okay, good. I would’ve been pissed if you hid that from me."

“How’d you find out?”

Briar laughs, “I said, ‘Hey, Niall, can I ask you something?’ And he confessed immediately.”

Harry throws his head back laughing.

Harry is in his study, silently reading his letter from years ago. His tears are falling onto the paper, dotting and blurring the ink. He was 32 when he wrote this. It sounds old, but he was a kid. It was hard to keep him at home. He had access to disposable income, so he used it to its fullest.

Camille lived a simple life, finding pleasure in gardening, reading and going to cafés. Her job always came first, which kept her busy traveling around the world. Harry was restless; always chasing the next big thing, and partying until his body physically shut down.

It didn’t help that he was a touchy person. Even though Camille had his whole heart, he shamelessly flirted with other women. He let them hang on him at bars, on yachts, and anywhere he could get attention. People in their circle talk; leaving Harry in the hot seat more than once.

He’d be naïve to blame it on Camille’s attachment style. She was generally cold, not showing him much affection. But, nonetheless he pursued her, absolutely enamored by her beauty and grace.

He was dumb enough to suggest an open relationship one time; about 6 years into the relationship. His needs in bed became too much for Camille. She didn’t understand his need to get off and dominate her. He slept at a hotel every night that week. She gave him an out, but he couldn’t take it.

When Camille left, he started hooking up with women more regularly. His heart hurt so bad, but he was finally getting his physical needs met. None of them lasted, until Briar.

Over the course of 8 years, his heart slowly healed. It’s not ideal that Briar is so much younger, and an employee of his country club. There’s a strange power dynamic there. He loved how flustered she got when he looked at her; she still does sometimes, but he can feel the difference.

They bring encourage each other’s confidence. They drive each other to be a better version of themselves. They feed each other’s deepest desires; scratching every itch that had been culminating over several years.

Harry begins rewriting the letter; changing the tone from blinding rage, to one of neutrality. He wishes her well. He hopes she’s healed.

From what? He’s not sure. He hopes she understands his point of view, and will consider letting Harry meet his child. He’d do anything at this point.

He seals up the letter, addressing it to Camille. Not even sure she still lives at this address, he walks it out to his mailbox anyway, lifting the red flag to signal the post man.

He feels weight lift from his chest that had been there since the day he met Camille.

Briar and Harry are sitting at a nice restaurant on the water. She sips gingerly at her mojito while they wait for her mother to arrive. Briar extended the invite to her brothers, but received radio silence from them all.

She’s anxiously bouncing her leg, to which Harry firmly grasps her thigh as he locks his jaw. She inhales sharply, closing her eyes. After the emotional turmoil they’ve experienced over the last few weeks, their sex life has toned down immensely. She misses his hand around her neck and his dirty whispers.

“Relax. I’m right here,” Harry whispers in her ear lowly.

Briar gasps when three of her brothers appear from the restaurant’s entryway. Jasper must’ve picked up Callum and Cormac from Patrick’s.

Briar stands to hug her older brothers, while Harry pulls Cormac in for a hug.

“Where’s Welles?”

“Not sure. I haven’t heard from him,” Callum says simply.

She rolls her eyes. He’s 28, but he is the most immature out of all of them.

They sit, easing into a conversation with Harry. She’s grateful she can entertain them while she’s somewhere else in her head. He reaches over to lock pinkies.

Her mother walks in, looking stunning. That’s one thing that Briar has always been jealous of. It’s why her addiction flew under the radar for so long. She was always put together and exuding happiness. But in secret, she was struggling.

Her strawberry blonde hair is longer than when she saw her last, loose waves falling over her shoulders. She’s in a floor length floral gown, a sweater over her shoulders to fight the chill of the restaurant.

She spots them after speaking with the hostess, her smile lighting up the room.

“Hi, my babies!”

Jasper stands to greet her, while her other brothers hold in a groan. She walks around the circular table to press a kiss to Briar’s head, before turning her attention to Harry.

“And who’s this? Don’t think I popped him out,” she laughs, waiting for Harry to stand up.

“Mom, seriously?” Briar grimaces.

“Hi, I’m Harry. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” Harry says smiling, pulling out the chair for her.

“Pleasure is all mine, Harry. I’m Catherine. Isn’t my daughter incredible?”

Harry smiles, nodding. He can sense Briar’s discomfort. He assumes this praise is just for show.

Her mother brings up every topic under the sun, effectively avoiding topics regarding Briar’s father, the move, and her new husband.

They eat, letting Cormac talk about school, Callum talk about grad school and his new girlfriend, and Jasper about his new job. Briar realizes she’s done a shit job at talking to her brothers lately. She doesn’t know any of this.

“Where’s Wellie, Briar? Didn’t you invite him?”

“I did. Didn’t hear from him.”

“It would’ve been nice for you to follow up with him,” Catherine snipes. “It’s not everyday I get to see all five of you.”

“Really? How about you? When was the last time you talked to him?” Briar crosses her arms at her mother.

“It doesn’t matter. This is family time,” Catherine raises her eyebrows, waiting for Briar to snap.

“You know all about that, don’t you mom? Just counting down the minutes until you can go play house with Dean’s kids in California.”

Callum and Cormac look between the two women, stunned. Jasper’s eyes widen.

“California?” Callum questions. “Mom, what is she talking about?”

Catherine looks around, “I thought Jasper would’ve filled you all in. I’m moving to California with Dean to be closer to his kids. They’re younger.”

Jasper looks down, pushing the vegetables around on his plate. Callum shakes his head, throwing his napkin on the table before storming off. Cormac starts to cry, to which Harry puts a hand on his back.

“Mom, how can you leave?” Cormac asks, his lip quivering.

“Baby, you’re all adults. You don’t need me anymore.”

“I’m only 17, Mom,” Cormac chokes.

Briar has tears streaking down her face. Briar hasn’t needed her mother since she was 12 years old, hoping and praying for her to come back. Cormac barely knew her; only fantasizing what their relationship could’ve been.

Harry pays the bill before suggesting Catherine leaves. She nods, standing to grab her purse. She silently looks each of her children in the eye before walking out of the restaurant.

“I’m sorry, Bri. I thought she changed,” Jasper says solemnly.

“It’s okay. You deserve to handle your relationship with her however you want.”

Harry and Briar walk out hand in hand after spending 20 minutes consoling her brothers.

They climb into Harry’s car, silently staring ahead. Harry grabs her hand again.

“That was rough, pup. I’m sorry,” Harry says softly.

“Can we just go home? I miss you, Daddy.”

Harry clears his throat as his cock twitches.

“You have me, Birdie. Let’s go home.”

“Be rough with me,” Briar pleads from the bed. “I want it so bad.”

Harry chuckles as he pulls his belt from the loops on his pants. She’s completely bare, her wrists fastened to each corner of the bed. He opts to leave her feet out of the restraints, hoping he can toss her around a bit.

“Daddy’s been taking it easy on his Birdie for the last couple weeks,” Harry says, trailing his knuckle along her rib cage. She keens, shivering from the light touch. “But don’t think I forgot about your stunt at Ashmont.”

Briar freezes, remembering their escapades. She taunted him, removing her panties in the stall, waiting for him to come after her. It’s a shame the night turned into a disaster soon after. She whines, not sure what else to do.

“Hm? Remember that, Birdie? Words,” he stares straight into her eyes.

“Yes, Daddy. I was naughty,” she bites her lip.

He doesn’t like that. He shoves his middle and ring fingers into her mouth, choking her a little. “Leave that lip alone. I bite that.”

She purrs around his digits, goosebumps rising on her skin. He removes them from her mouth before sticking them at her core. He barely grazes her folds, seeing how she’ll react. She jerks around, slightly moving her pelvis to meet his hand.

“Ah, ah. No. You’ll be taken care of how I decide.”

She nods, swallowing thickly. She’s eating up everything he throws at her.

“Think I’m gonna take my time tonight,” Harry let’s out an exaggerated sigh. Briar whines, pushing her face into her shoulder. “Mm-mm. None of that.”

Harry pushes Briar’s legs in the air, holding her ankles together, so the lips of her vagina are peaking out between her thighs. He growls at the sight.

“This little pussy is so used to getting what she wants. What does she want tonight, Birdie?”

“Your mouth, Daddy! Please!” Briar balls her fists, wiggling slightly.

Harry spits, watching the liquid drip down her thighs and cunt, “Nah, I’m good.”

Briar’s jaw locks in frustration. She watches as he walks to his closet grabbing her plug and vibrator. He generously applies lube to the plug, gently circling her ass. Briar closes her eyes, laying her head back.

He gently pushes the plug in past the tight muscle, moving it in and out a little.

“Oh my godddd,” Briar exhales. Her chest is rising and dropping fast.

“I think tonight’s the night, baby.”

Briar whines, half out of horniness and the other out of nervousness. He flicks the vibrator on, pressing it firmly on her clit. She throws her head to the side.

“Look at me. Don’t look over there,” Harry threatens, increasing the speed.

She wills her eyes open, staring into his, her mouth opening slightly. The tension is building in her pelvis. She’s sure to come once he starts circling the vibrator on her clit; his signature move. Within seconds of him doing that, she’s crumbling.

Harry shuts off the vibrator and adjusts her leg position so her legs are open wide, one resting on his shoulder.

“Wanna see your pretty face when I fuck your ass,” He says, peppering kisses on her face and neck.

“Please,” Briar whispers.

Harry reaches between them and pulls the plug out and tosses it on the floor. He’ll clean it later. He extends his hand to rest in front of her face.

“Spit.”

She spits on his fingertips, a line of spit connecting them to her lips. He lowers his hand to lightly touch her hole before inserting his middle finger. Briar groans, pulling on her restraints. He quickly inserts another, rocking them in and out of her gently.

Harry’s cock is neglected, standing tall and proud, nearly touching the tip to his torso. Briar begins to panic, unsure if his girth will fit in there.

“Relax, baby. I got you. Do you remember your word?” He says, petting her cheek.

“Bogey,” she says softly.

“Good girl,” he kisses her again. Harry has never withheld kisses, even in her worst punishments. “One more and then we’ll go for it, okay?”

“Mhm,” she nods, a single tear escaping her eye. She trusts her boyfriend with her entire being, but her heart rate is skyrocketing.

The third digit enters her, eliciting a whine. Harry flexes his fingers, giving her a delicious stretch. A thick layer of sweat has formed behind her knees and on her forehead.

Harry kisses her forehead, licking the saltiness from his lips, “All good, Birdie. Doing so well for me.”

After a few more minutes of stretching her out, Harry pulls his fingers out and lowers himself to be eye level with her ass. He licks a long stripe over the now open hole. Briar shivers, pulling on the restraints.

Harry rises from his spot on the bed to pull his underwear all the way off, his cock bobbing as he moves. He grips his length firmly, giving himself a few generous pumps. He kneels over her, undoing her right hand’s restraint. She looks at him curiously, but understands when he entwines their hands.

He uses his right hand to line himself up at her delicate center. Briar sucks in a breath in anticipation. Harry presses the bulbous head of his dick in, groaning as he moves. His pace is painstaking, taking in every facial expression from the angel below him.

“Such a good girl. Letting Daddy be the only one to fuck this little hole,” he pants, nostrils flaring. His forehead is starting to drip with sweat.

“Only you,” she whines as he pushes in little by little.

“Let me know if you need me to stop and take a break, lovie.”

She furiously shakes her head, still holding in a breath. Harry is finally working his way up to full thrusts.

“Breathe with me,” Harry pleads. “1,2,3, exhale.”

Briar feels high. That breath sent her senses all the way to her pussy.

“Daddy,” Briar breathes heavily.

“What do you need, baby?”

“Fingers. I-In my pussy,” she cries. “Please.”

“Okay, baby. I know y’empty in there,” he smiles down at her lovingly as he untangles their fingers so he can stick them inside. “So wet f’me.”

The sensations are too much once he starts petting her g-spot with his fingers.

“Coming, Daddy,” she babbles.

“Go ahead, Birdie. So fucking proud of you.”

She squeezes her eyes closed, letting out a cry of relief as she hits her wall.

Harry chuckles at her babbling. She is fucked out to high heaven. He wants one more out of her before he comes. He alternates thrusting into her ass and fingering her pussy. He releases her other hand from the restraint. She’s too distracted, so her hand remains in the same spot.

“Rub your little clit, baby. One more f’me.”

“Ugggghnnnn,” Briar whines, drool coming out of her mouth. She circles her clit three more times before she’s clenching hard on his fingers and cock.

The squeeze of her ass pushes Harry into his own orgasm, a ringing forming in his ear. He gives two last lazy thrusts, emptying himself into her. He closes his eyes and hangs his head low before slowly pulling out.

Briar squawks, so he shushes her gently. Harry could come again at the sight in front of him. His come is leaking out of her ass hole, dripping onto the sheets below. He picks some up with his finger, smearing it on her pussy. She mewls, her head lolling to the side.

“So fucking good for me. Gorgeous, baby.”

Harry takes a mental image before hustling to the bathroom. He starts the bath, making sure to throw some epsom salt and lavender oil in there. He wets a towel with warm water for Briar, and throws two towels into his towel warmer.

He reenters the bedroom to find his girl curled up, her back to him. He runs his knuckles down her protruding spine. Harry gently dabs the towel along her labias and ass to clean up.

“Birdie, I ran us a bath. Gonna lift you,” Harry coos. Her eyelashes flutter as she looks up at him with moony eyes.

Harry lifts her from her armpits and knees, and swiftly carries her to the tub. Her eyes are shut, but she rests her head on his chest. He’s become a pro at maneuvering themselves into the tub.

Harry positions Briar at the front of the tub, before finding his seat at the back. He leans forward to pull her body to his chest. Harry closes his eyes and rolls his neck along the edge of the porcelain tub, listening to their uneven breaths.

He plays with Briar’s hair; twirling the long pieces between his fingers. She hasn’t said a word, but he knows she’s elsewhere right now. He moves his fingertips to her scalp, gently scratching around the nape of her neck, hoping she’ll come back to him soon.

“Mmmmm,” Briar hums, smiling to herself.

Harry smiles, increasing the pressure and speed like he’s petting Gus.

“Stop,” Briar whines, her hair now in her face.

“Sorry, Birdie. How do you feel?”

“Good. Sleepy,” Briar yawns.

“Hungry? I can order us something,” Harry taps her sides.

“Can we have Caesar salads and Diet Cokes?” She cranes her neck to look back at him.

Harry laughs, “Sure, baby.”

“And french fries.”

“You got it,” Harry leans down and kisses her.

Briar is staying at Harry’s while he’s in the city for a few in-person meetings. It’s been nice; she does yoga outside in the mornings, takes Gus for walks around the picturesque neighborhood, and cooks using his expensive appliances.

🦊: Hi, Birdie.

🐥: Hi Daddy

🦊: Miss me yet?

🐥: I like being able to lay sideways in your bed

🦊: You can do that when I’m there.

🐥: You’re too hard

🦊: How’d you know? Send me a picture.

🐥: It’s 10AM. Pay attention to your meeting

🦊: I’m not asking.

Though Harry isn’t home, Briar still walks around his house scantily clad. An idea to terrorize her boyfriend pops into her head. Bolting up the stairs, Briar grabs her plug from Harry’s special area in his closet. She smirks to herself, feeling the cool metal in her hand. She walks outside, peering over Maureen’s fence to ensure no one will witness what she’s about to do.

She gathers spit in her mouth before lubricating the plug. She places one foot on the lounge chair for leverage, before nudging the plug past her entrance. Waddling around, she moves two lounge chairs to face one another. Propping her phone up on one, she shuffles to the other to get into position. She removes her sleep tank top and silk shorts, staring up into the sky to get some sun on her face.

She kneels, making sure to pop her ass out more. The phone is set to video so she can take screen shots of the poses she likes best. Or just send the whole damn video to him.

She makes sure to twist her body to fake some curves, looking over her shoulder and touching her hair. She fiddles with the plug, making her whine.

Yup, she’s sending the video.

After a few minutes, she gets up from the lounge chair, being sure to flash the camera. She grabs the phone, scanning it over her body before blowing a kiss.

Delivered

Looking around again, she quickly throws her clothes back on, opting to leave the plug in for the day. Gus joins her outside, laying on the chair opposite hers. She has an urge to shut her phone off completely, just to push Harry’s buttons a little more.

Her quiet morning is interrupted by her ringtone blaring. She picks up without saying anything.

“Do you think you’re funny?”

“Who is this?” Briar is holding back laughter.

“I am in a meeting, little girl. You sent that video when all I told you to send was a photo.”

“So are you jerking yourself in the bathroom?”

“What a fucking mouth on you, huh? And yeah, your little video is causing a problem,” Harry grits.

Briar whines, “Don’t you wish it was my little hand, Daddy? Or my mouth?”

Harry slams his fist against the bathroom stall. His neck vein is protruding as he growls.

Briar is full on smiling to herself. She’s not particularly horny right now, but she’s happy to aid Harry with his issue. She can hear his panting increase before a clattering of the phone.

“Harry?”

“Fuck, I dropped my phone,” he laughs incredulously.

“Oh my, well, maybe I should let you go,” Briar trails off.

“No, baby. Almost done. Just tell Daddy how much you love,” he groans. “Love him.”

“I love you, Daddy. So much. Come for me,” Briar says, leaning into her chair.

Harry releases into the toilet with a strangled moan. He prays to God the conference room walls are thick. He grabs a wad of toilet paper to wipe down his misfires before flushing.

“Thanks, Birdie. You’re in so much trouble when I’m home. Love you.”

“Okay, bye.”

She hangs up, shaking her head. She looks over her shoulder to see Maureen standing at the fence, watering her plants. Briar gives her a tight smile and wave, to which Maureen grimaces in response.

Briar lounges for a few hours before feeling intense boredom. She cleans a little bit, making sure to dust Harry’s various trinkets from his travels. She lightly wipes a ceramic elephant he got in Thailand, a Russian nesting doll from his time in St. Petersburg, and a clay shark from South Africa. While Harry has been all over the globe, the two share a desire to one day back back in South America. She hopes a llama trinket will one day sit on this shelf.

It’s been a few weeks since the lunch with Briar’s mom and since Harry sent the letter to Camille. While she’s happy Harry is attempting to get to know his son, Briar can’t help but feel extreme anxiety. Why hasn’t Camille responded?

The shrill sound of the doorbell and Gus’s subsequent bark breaks Briar’s train of thought. She can see a figure through the frosted glass of Harry’s front door, lingering at the table of snacks designated for delivery drivers.

Briar can see the UPS logo on the man’s shirt, so she lets him pick his goodies before opening the door. She waved to him as he drives away, looking down at the package at her feet. She wonders if Harry sent her something for when he returns.

Bending over, she’s surprised at the package’s weight. If it were new lingerie, it’d be light. She bends at the knees, inhaling when she lifts the package. Shooing Gus away, she manages to get the package to Harry’s long kitchen table.

She’s wracking her brain what it could be. The entire package is wrapped in brown paper. She flips it over to see the label. Harry’s name written in cursive letters using a Sharpie. Her eyes are drawn to the left hand side; the sender.

C. Rowe 4 Rue Dupetit-Thouars Paris, France 75003

A lump forms in Briar’s throat. It’s been a few hours since she talked to Harry this morning. Her fingers start to dial his number.

“If you’re calling for a follow-up to this morning, I have to let you know that Niall is right next to me.”

She hears Niall groan in the background. When she doesn’t laugh or respond, Harry tries again. “Birdie?”

“Hi, I-I wanted to tell you that a package came f-for you,” Briar chokes out.

Harry scrunches his eyebrows, “Okay, just leave it with the others. Anything else?”

He wants to be sweet with her, but she knows not to call about random things while he’s in meetings.

“I-it’s from Camille.”

Silence. Briar closes her eyes.

Harry sighs, “I see. Okay, thanks for letting me know, pup. I’ll be home tomorrow afternoon. Are you going to be okay until then?”

“Y-yes, I’ll be fine. I’m sorry. I’m not sure why I’m so nervous.”

“It’s okay. This whole thing is a little odd. Just try to take your mind off it. Throw it in my office if you don’t feel like seeing it.”

“Okay, I will. I’ll talk to you later. Love you.”

“Love you.”

Harry sighs. Niall looks over at him empathetically.

“So when were you gonna tell me you’re dating one of the servers?”

Niall’s eyes go wide before rubbing his temples, “She told you?”

“What? Why wouldn’t she? She’s my girlfriend.”

“We’re not dating. We hooked up once...twice.”

“Mhm,” Harry laughs. “Better nip that in the bud, then.”

Niall groans again just as their next meeting begins.

The anticipation is killing Briar. Harry is due home any minute, so she’s pacing between his kitchen and living room. Sitting on the sofa, sitting on the stool, sitting on the chair, standing by the window. She can’t keep still.

She joins Gus in his outburst of barking and running from window to window when they hear Harry’s car pull into the garage. She pokes her head into the garage to see Harry unloading his bags from the back.

She walks over to him, pressing her hands into his chest.

“Hi, Birdie. Missed you,” Harry says, pressing a kiss to her mouth.

“Welcome home,” she smiles back at him.

She grabs the wheeled suitcase, lifting it over the threshold of the door.

“Let me change and we can open it,” Harry says simply. Briar’s stomach drops.

“Okay.”

Briar corrals Gus to the sofa, the two of them perching in the corner seat. Harry changed into colorful sweatpants and a t-shirt that says ‘vote vote vote’. He grabbed the package from his office on his way back into the main living room.

He places the package on the coffee table. The two of them stare at it silently.

“Are you sure you don’t want to do this alone?”

“Mm, no, it’s okay. If there’s a letter, then I’ll read that on my own.”

Briar nods, waiting for him to open the box.

Harry peels the brown paper from the edges, tearing straight through his and Camille’s names.

He removes the paper in its entirety, examining the oversized shoe box before pulling the lid off. He places it off to the side while peering at the contents. From first glance, it looks like junk.

He scrunches his eyebrows when he spots one of his old shirts. Did Camille really use this as an opportunity to send his shit back?

He moves the shirt to reveal a few envelopes, a baby rattle, a small pair of vans, a stuffed dog, and drawings.

Harry opens one of the envelopes to find a stack of Polaroid pictures. He can feel his eyes start to sting. They’re in chronological order, showing his son grow from a tiny baby to an excited 7 year old. Briar has her head on his shoulder, silently viewing the photos. The birth photo has words scribbled in Sharpie at the bottom.

Oliver Styles Rowe 18-11-2016 3.3kgs | 53 cm

Harry is crying now. Briar rubs his back, trying to encourage him to keep going.

He flips through the photo, feeling vomit bubble up his throat. This kid looks like a lot of fun. Fun that’s killing him to not have been a part of. Camille keeps him well travelled; there are photos from Tokyo, Australia and Mexico.

Unlike most babies, Harry’s had his signature curls from the start. Briar gasps at the photos as they get closer to present day. Oliver is Harry’s twin.

Oliver receives great marks in school; he’s pictured with several certificates and trophies. He even seems to be a footballer.

Harry puts the stack on the coffee table, turning to face Briar.

“Wow,” Harry says, wiping a tear from his eye.

“What’re you thinking?”

“Just heartbroken all over again.”

Harry went into his office to read the letter. He stops at his bar cart to pour himself some tequila.

It’s short, but gives Harry some closure. Over the last 8 years, Camille embraced motherhood by focusing less on work. She meditates, volunteers regularly, and is extremely involved at school activities.

She and Theo, their mutual friend from study abroad, have been together since she moved back. That sends a pang to Harry’s heart. They got married about 5 years ago, and have a little girl named Amélie. She only talks a little about Oliver, saying how much he reminds her of Harry.

Camille apologizes, which Harry didn’t expect. She recognizes cutting him off from his son was wrong. She also left her contact information, followed by the last line.

He would love to meet you. I think it’s time.

Tears are fully falling on Harry’s cheeks as the heaviness of the last 8 years hits him. His son has Styles in his name. He smiles to himself, feeling the butterflies in his stomach.

He shoves the letter in his desk drawer before wiping his eyes. He joins Briar and Gus back in the living room cozied up by the fire.

____________________________________________________________________

OHM YGOD. SOMEONE PLZ TALK TO ME AB BIRDIE AND HARRY I AM LIVINGGGGG

Taglist:

@daphnesutton @pandeebearstyles @anxiouswaterss @gem1712 @stylesfever @awesomenavy @crazygirlinthisworld @butdaddyilovehim-hs @luxiorchive @alchemxx @narry-heart

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #Harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #fairway to heaven #dom!harry #dom!h #daddy!harry #daddy!h

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littlemissheavenonearth · 3 months

Text

The Dancer and the Rockstar Pt 4 {Joe Elliott x Reader}

Sorry for making y’all wait for part 4. Here it is now! I hope you like it!

Y/N woke up at around 8 in the morning, the boys seemed to be asleep. Joe is really pretty when he is sleeping, Did I say that out loud?

She went into the main cabin and tried to find something to eat in the fridge. She found some toast and a little container of butter. This was her favorite breakfast, Tahlia made it for her all the time.

While spreading the butter on the toast, she felt a pair of strong arms wrap around her waist.

“Good morning, my love,” Said the all too familiar voice of Joe Elliott, as he rested his head on her shoulder.

“Good morning, Joey,” She whispered to him, “Want some toast?”

“I’d love some toast,” She nodded and handed a slice to him. They both sat at the table and ate in silence.

“I’m excited for the rest of the tour, now that I'm with you, I will surely enjoy it a lot more,” Joe grinned. That stupid smile, the stupid adorable smile. She couldn’t deny that she was developing a crush on her bestfriend. God, I love him.

“I’m excited too,” The girl smiled. It came out a little more high-pitched than she had hoped.

“You ok?” He asked.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine…” She trailed off, which didn’t make it anymore convincing.

“Good morning,” Said a sleepy Steve with a light red almost pink robe on and dark red slippers.

“Mornin’” Joe and Y/N respond at the same time. Joe sat on the couch as the dancer cleaned the dish that once had toast on it. She hummed a little bit of “High N’ Dry (Saturday Night)”.

“Saturday Night,” She hummed, “High…”

“Saturday Night, high n’ dry….” Joe sang with her.

“You two sound good together,” Steve smiled and sipped on his tea.

“Yeah, you do,” Sav said as he walked out into the main cabin.

“Thanks guys,” The girl smiled and went to sit next to Joe on the couch, “So, where is the next show?”

“We are leaving to go to London for the show tonight, so we are on our way over there now.” Sav responded and Y/N looked out the window. She loved London, even though she had only been once before her mother died.

“I haven’t been in years,” She whispered. Suddenly, all of these memories rushed back to her and she sighed, “I had gone with my family and we had good times,”

“Wait,” Joe started, now realizing that he hadn’t seen Y/N’s mother or father when they went to the apartment, “Where are your parents?”

“Oh, you don’t know,” The girl looked down, “Mother died a few years ago and father didn’t want to deal with me alone, so he left.”

Joe went to hug his bestfriend, her mom was a wonderful person. He loved her and hearing this news felt like he was stabbed in the heart. Joe began to cry, he had never cried in front of the boys, but he did not care. Y/N also began to cry, she loved her mother. She was a very kind woman, she loved to bake and take care of animals, yeah, Y/N lived with 3 dogs and 4 cats.

“Joey, it’ll be ok, she’s still with us, in here.” The girl pointed to her heart, Joe nodded as the tears he cried began to decrease.

“I know, it’s just, I didn’t get to say a proper goodbye to her,” Joe stated.

A 13 year old Y/N and her father rushed to the hospital to see her mother. She was in the hospital because she had cancer. Y/N almost refused to go to the hospital knowing that her mother was going to leave.

“Dad, I don’t want to go,” The girl whispered.

“Don’t you want to say goodbye?”

“Yes, but it’s hard, I wish I didn’t have to say goodbye,” The girl’s mother had made her feel safe in a world so truculent. A sort of emptiness filled her life after that day.

Y/N and her dad entered the hospital room and noticed that mother was awake.

“Oh, Y/N, baby, come here,”

“Mom!” Y/N rushed over to the bed and hugged her mother, “I love you, I love you, I love you!” She repeated over and over, as if she hadn’t said it enough in her past.

“I-I know you do,” Her mother stated, “I love you more than you will ever know!”

“Mom….” The girl whispered, tears falling on the bed.

“Don’t cry, my love. I will always be here,” Her mother struggled to point to the girl's heart.

“No, no, no…..” The girl trailed off.

“Tell your bestfriend, Joe, I say bye,” She said and grinned weakly. The last moments of Y/N and her mom came quicker than the girl ever imagined. Her mother passed away while holding the girl's hand and there was a special feeling about that.

“Good bye, my love,” Her mother said and closed her eyes, letting herself go. Then, all of a sudden, the world went dark, the vacuous feeling filled her world.

For a week she lived with her dad, but he really did not want to have to deal with a teenager, so he left. The girl woke and went to find her dad, but he just wasn’t anywhere around the house. She had tears streaming down her cheeks as she left the house to go to her dance studio. She then found Tahlia at the front desk, Tahlia was kind of like Y/N’s second mother. She was the woman that the girl trusted most after her mother.

“Sweetie, you don’t have practice today, what are you doing here?” Lia questioned. The girl began to explain all that had happened in the past week, again tears, and lots of them. Tahlia tried to comfort her, but it only made her sadness worse. At the end of the conversation, Tahlia asked Y/N something that made her smile again after so long.

“Y/N honey, I can possibly arrange for you to move into my apartment and you can live with me and my husband.”

“Yes, yes, yes!” The dancer cried, she was so lucky to have found Tahlia. She went in to hug the woman and then she whispered, “Thank you so much.”

“It’s no problem, honey,” Tahlia loved the fact that she could help young kids going through things like this. Y/N made Tahlia happy and she wanted to see the girl happy.

“I am so sorry, love,” Said Steve, holding the girl’s hand. The boys all nodded in agreement to Steve’s statement and they all went in to hug the girl and Joe.

“That’s all in the past now, I miss mother, of course, but she would want me to be happy,”

The rest of the morning the group finished eating breakfast and got ready. Three hours later, they made it to the venue in London, but the group went for a walk instead of staying at the venue.

“It’s just as beautiful as I remember it…” Y/N smiled. Joe walks right next to her with a smile on his face. Y/N notices and smiles again, but she also puts her hand in his and he squeezes it. There was a kind of spark when he held her hand and butterflies fluttered in her stomach.

She blushed, I hope he likes me back….

#def leppard #joe elliott #steve clark #phil collen #rick allen #rick savage #joe elliott x reader #Rocksy’s fic #Part 4

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rurousha · 8 months

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You were (mostly) right

Crowley awoke to a knock at the door. This was unusual enough as he never got salespeople or proselytes at his flat. Perhaps it was Maggie or Muriel come to check up on him.

Crowley tried to remember the last time he had seen any of them. After Aziraphale left, Crowley had tried to drink himself into a coma. That had only made him numb, which was even worse than the sad. He had tried traveling for all of two weeks, but that just held memories of Aziraphale too. So he just went home and took a depression nap. Judging by the length of his hair, that had been about two years ago.

There was the knock again. It was quiet, and Crowley was surprised that a knock so soft woke him up at all. He trudged out of bed and to the door.

It was Aziraphale. He knew it before he even opened the door. He had imagined this a few times. Quite a few times, actually. He had imagined slamming the door in the angel’s self-righteous face.

“Crowley,” came Aziraphale’s soft voice from the other side of the door. “It’s me, dear. I understand if you don’t - “

Crowley opened the door. Aziraphale took an instinctive step back. He was dressed smartly in all white, none of his soft fabrics or warm colors to be seen.

Aziraphale’s hands shook and then moved.

“You were right,” he said. “You were right.” He spun and started to sob. “I was wrong, and you - “

Crowley yanked him through the doorway and into a fierce hug.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Crowley.”

“I know, I forgive you.” Crowley cried against Aziraphale’s shoulder, and his glasses fell to the floor. “I forgive you, Angel.”

Aziraphale clutched at him all the harder. They sank to the floor, and the door closed behind them.

There was quite a lot of crying after that. Eventually, they made it from the floor to the couch without separating as much as possible.

Aziraphale tried to blubber out more apologies, but Crowley finally stopped him before they could end up in even more of an apology circle. There was much to be said between them, but it didn’t all need to be said at once and in such an emotional state.

“I know, Angel,” Crowley said. “Look, I get it. You never would have forgiven yourself if you thought you could do some good and you didn’t at least try. It’s not your fault that they were never going to listen to you.”

“Well, actually…”

“Angel?”

“There were some - just a few - that maybe listened a little.”

“Angel.”

“Not too many, really.”

“A Zira Phale, what did you do?!”

Miles away, on Greek Street, Soho, London, England, just outside the bookshop of A.Z. Fell and Co., some thirty or forty newly corporated angels congregated. Most were young, as far as angels go, and none had ever been to Earth before.

Myx, whose corporeal form was a bright white unicorn, approached a couple enjoying lunch outside a cafe. “My dear sir, madam, or other, would you like to hear a message on our lord and savior Jesus Christ?”

Others were more interested in observing some material Earth objects.

“How does it work?” one angel asked.

“Oh, I know this one,” another angel answered. “It’s called a door.” She turned the knob and opened the door in question to demonstrate.

“Ooooo,” the congregated angels replied.

The cashier inside the shop in question just stared a little.

A few that were particularly bold - or completely unfamiliar with the concept of closing time - walked right into the bookshop.

Muriel was having rather a difficult time controlling them.

“No, you mustn't move them about. Please be very careful with the pages! Take that out of your mouth!”

There was a sharp cling as one of them pressed the buttons on the old brass cash register.

#good omens #good omens 2 #fanfiction

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magikborn · 7 days

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welcome to london, DARIEN SHIELDS! did anyone ever tell you that you look just like SOTA FUKUSHI? well, no matter, we hear that you are 21 and working as a/an Certified Nursing Assistant / Vigilante. we also hear that you currently NONE of your memories from SAILOR MOON DUBBED and have a tendency to be WISE as well as STANDOFFISH.

name: Darien Mamoru Shields

birthday: august 3rd

age: 21

occupation: certified nursing assistant / vigilante

sexual orientation: bi sexual / demi sexual

pronouns: he / him

abilities: transforms into tuxedo mask, uses a rose / sword

Reborn on his homeworld, Darien lived a life of hardship. As a child, he and his parents were involved in a car accident. The accident claimed the life of his parents and left him without a memory and no family to go back to.

He was placed in an orphanage where he spent most of his days mourning the loss of the parents he couldn't remember. However, during that time, he met and rescued a young boy named Fiore. Despite his outwardly alien appearance, he and Darien bonded quickly and became friends. However, because Fiore's kind could not survive for long within the Earth's atmosphere, Fiore was forced to leave.Upset, Darien cried his bedroom over the prospect of losing his friend. It was during Fiore's preparation to leave that he met a young Serena. Her mother, Ikuko, had given birth to her little brother, Sammy, and Serena had decided to wander and entered Darien's room. Serena promised to be his friend after she gave him a rose to solidify their relationship. In turn, Darien chose to give the rose to Fiore in a show of friendship. Fiore touched by the gesture, left to repay his friend.

However, as the years would roll on, Darien would eventually forget Fiore, assuming the boy was a figment of his imagination born of his loneliness. He also appeared to forget his meeting with the young Serena as well. Darien went through the trials of getting a general education, eventually graduating from high school and college. Until he woke up in London and he now works at a hospital and at night unwillingly transforms into Tuxedo Mask

#wal: intro #⤷ darien shields. // info #; bio

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perrydowning · 2 years

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Time Traveling Home

Hello, m’dears. I’ve missed you.

I (and my elderly chihuahua who looks like a house-elf) arrived safely in Palo Alto, CA this past weekend. The drive took five days; I needed bit of time to recover physically from the trip, the mad rush to finish packing, and all those little details one forgets about, even when you think you’re prepared.

Though the friend I’m currently staying with—henceforth referred to as ‘Auntie Downing’—offered to have my car shipped, I felt the drive itself would help me process the profundity of this change. This was the fourth time I’ve driven across the country, and there really isn’t another way to fathom just how massive and varied this land is. Not unlike the thoughts and feelings that course through me on a schedule only they know.

My traveling buddy, other than Dobby the Chihuahua, did about two thirds of the driving, leaving a lot of time to look out the window silently crying, make nostalgic playlists from our college years, and update each other on the smaller details of our lives—plus tell our new hilarious stories since we last spent real time together.

Mr. Downing had always wanted to take me to the Grand Canyon. On our way to New Orleans we had to choose between that or seeing the London Bridge (yup, the actual bridge) in Lake Havasu. Neither of us had seen it, whereas he’d already been to the Grand Canyon. And, really, you kinda have to walk across a bridge built 200 years ago in England, that had been built to replace the old, 1,000 year-old bridge … especially when the ‘new’ bridge is now in the middle of … Arizona? Because it totally makes sense to ship and rebuild an entire freakin’ bridge. Americans are weird.

At the time, we decided we’d make a proper trip to the Grand Canyon in the future. Clearly, that was no longer possible, but it had been so important to him that I experience it that I needed to see it, almost like a pilgrimage.

So, I took his urn with me while I looked out on its vastness. In a way, he did take me to see this magnificent place. I cried—a lot. But I’m so very glad I went. It proved something I’d suspected—that when I experience something new, in a way, he does, too. There’s just too much of him wound through me for it to be otherwise.

Two days later, we arrived back in the Bay Area; I played ‘Ride of the Valkyries’ as we crossed the border into California. It seemed only right to warn them. It felt really good to know where I was going without having to have my phone tell me.

Now, to the time traveling part. When I last lived with Auntie Downing, I was 22 and beginning my ‘grown-up’ life. First real job, finding my first place, all that. In many ways, it feels like I’ve traveled back to that point in my life, that place of not knowing. It’s been a very long time since I haven’t known the general shape and direction of my future, and, man, it is weird.

This time, however, I know myself a hell of a lot better and have more resources. So, even though I’m grieving, I’m also a tiny bit … eager to find out what’s next.

It’s been two months since Mr. Downing’s death and I think my brain is beginning to come back online, a little bit. My memory is improving and the fog is starting to recede. The mountain is still steep, but I’ve finally figured out what kind of shoes I need to wear for the climb.

It’s time for me to shift these sorts of posts over to my non-Reylo blog, @perrydowning-unplugged. I’ll post a link on this blog to new posts about how things are going for me, but the content here will revert to mostly Reylo.

As always and ever, thank you, so very much, for being such supportive and kind people.

All my love,

Perry

#personal #travel mindens the broad #mrdowning

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thegreatwicked · 6 months

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Mending Feathers

Summary: Warren, having escaped the cagefighting underground, seeks refuge in a broken church, feeling crippled and directionless with his damaged wings. During a stormy night, he discovers an unexpected visitor seeking sanctuary in his church. Initially resistant, Warren is taken aback when the visitor reveals the ability to heal and restore his wings. With his ability to fly restored, Warren is free again, but questions arise about the mysterious girl and what lies ahead for him. Grappling with gratitude, Warren contemplates the next chapter of his life and wonders how he can express his thanks. Takes place in an AU in the church Apocalypse finds Warren drinking his sorrows away in, I've also set it in London.

Pairing: Warren Worthington III x OC Ivy

Rating: Explicit; smut, you know why you're here.

Content Warning; descriptions of healing that may be somewhat graphic and painful.

Final note: This is my first story written from a character with an accent, its' Warrens POV and I REALLY tried to get this ounding like him so please be gentle in your critiques of my writing of a British accent!

Staring into the fire, lost in the bloody chaos swirlin' in my mind, like it's the only thing with the answers I need. The storm outside, it's like a mirror to the mess I've turned into; turbulent and wild. Been ages since I busted out of that cage, the night when everything went pear-shaped, and I've been rotting away in here since with wings that won't heal, can't fly, and feel like they're pulling me down each day. Can feel me body slowly dying a piece at a time.

Me wings are in a right state, I'm in a sore state, but it's nothin' compared to what's simmerin' in my head: It's the memories, they're like a nightmare on repeat. All the dodgy things I did to survive in that place, they're gnawing at me like a hungry dog, tearing me apart from the inside, but I can't shake 'em. Can still see their faces, hear their cries, begging me not to finish 'em off. But it was kill or be killed, and I chose to survive.

That was the worst bit seeing the desperation in 'em when they all realized that it was them or me, that's when the light inside 'em all went out. That spark that keeps us all going. Now, their ghostly voices haunt me, remindin' me of what I've done. And for what? Some sick entertainment for the bloody masses. And they have the nerve to call us the freaks. Bloody hypocrites.

The fire crackles and pops like a symphony, and every little snap makes me twitch a tad, giving my mind a short break from the constant chatter inside my head. It’s the only thing keeping me from going mad in this place. But something feels off, and then I hear it; sounds that shouldn’t be there; I’m not alone and I prefer it that way. There's no room for unwelcome guests in my space. Panic creeps in, because I’m not in any state to go brawling but I'm not about to let it paralyze me, I’m too pissed off to do nothing. This is my turf.

I keep to the shadows, strength’s not on my side but I can be quiet as a church mouse, moving up on the intruder, watching as they slide through the busted window. It's a girl, 'round my age, soaked to the bone like a stray dog, looking as miserable as a drowned rat. She lands with a thud and starts scoping out my church, muttering to herself. "Could do worse," she says rubbing her arms like she’s trying to warm up, making me wonder what's worse than this place. As she glances around, maybe she's thinking what I thought when I first stumbled in here, eyeballing the statues of the saints, feeling judged as all hell, looking at the stained glass windows and wondering how they'd shine with sunlight instead of moss and rain. She freezes, her eyes locked on something near the altar, one of my feathers, stained with blood.

She picks it up, staring at it like it's some ghost. "Didn't think angels existed," she mutters, clueless that I'm watching her.

Any sympathy I feel for her is quickly knocked out of my head with the simple logic of 'ain't nothin wrong with her, she can find someplace else.' I can't let her stay. I step out of the shadows, my voice sharp and cutting through the air like a blade.

"Oi! What's your game, then?" My voice echoes off the walls and pillars amplified in a space this grand and sounds ten times larger than it is, making her jump like a startled cat. She looks my way, seemingly taken aback by the fact that she's not alone, but she doesn't even take in my wings.

"Clear off!" I demand, not giving her an inch. She babbles about waiting out the storm, but I won't have any of it. She's got to clear out of my church

"Your church? Last time I checked churches were sanctuary for all." She shoots back with a tone that tells me she's no pushover, the kind of lass who's never afraid of a tussle, I get the feeling tongue as sharp as hers has probably landed her in trouble as often as mine has for me. She's got fire in her, I’ll give her that. I can tell she's got some fire in her, and, of course, she's American, because they tend to think they can roam where they want and do as they please.

“Not this one.”

She seems like she's about to give me a piece of her mind for being a jerk, fair enough, I am a jerk, but then she stops when she notices the state of my wings. Her eyes widen like she's seen a real biblical angel, "Jesus," She mutters to herself, not here, he ain't. "Are you okay?" Her voice goes soft, filled with something that sounds like fear. Her voice goes all gentle and filled with something that sounds like concern, making me feel more exposed than I'd like. Can't have anyone see me in this state; I'm feeling fragile, too weak.

I'm not a welcoming bloke, and I've grown pretty used to being on my own, especially in a place like this. But when I notice someone trespassing in the church during the storm, I can't help but get my feathers ruffled.

The storm ragin’ outside, raining cats and dogs, the lightning flickerin’ through the stained-glass windows, and now I can see her a bit more clearly. She's a looker, with long ginger red hair that's probably a mum's dream to braid and play with. Her lips look like they might be a real treat to kiss. I can't quite make out her eyes, but I feel small and naked under her gaze. Don't like that feeling one bit. It's late, I'm knackered, and I can't be arsed for a fight.

She's fixated on my wrecked wings, looking at me as if I'm some sort of charity case. "Does that hurt?" Bless her heart, she's gorgeous, but dense as a brick.

"Nah, not at all, feels like a tickle," I say, snappin’ back when she takes a step closer, trying to reach out to me like I'm some bloomin' pet or something. "Course it bloody hurts! You got any idea how much it hurts to be draggin’ ‘round a busted piece of your body without a hope in hell of it ever gettin’ better?"

Then she says it; the second daftest thing I’ve heard.

“I can help.”

She just won't back off, will she? Bloody persistent little thing, it’d be inspirin’ if it wasn’t so ruddy annoying. I'd bet my last quid she's the type to take in every stray cat and dog she finds in the rain. All the beauty in the world ain't worth it if she's completely off her rocker. Her tone changes, though, and she goes from being snappy, clever, and full of sass to surprisingly accommodating for a stranger. I’m rolling my eyes, should ‘ave sent her packing when I had the chance. Now, she's like a stray cat I can't seem to shake off.

"Wait a sec, I’m serious, I can help you!"

My temper flares up, gettin’ the better of me, and something inside me just snaps. I can't fathom what kind of magic tricks she thinks she's got in her bag that could possibly fix me. I’m angrier than I should be, but maybe cause I’m just so tired of being broken. How’d you fix this? It’s almost insulting, one things for sure if she gives me some line about prayer or spirit healing I’ll send her packing this time, don’t care how fit she is.

"How d'you reckon you can help me, then, eh?" It ain't her fault I'm in this state, she didn't cripple me, but she's sure as hell payin’ the price for being so damn optimistic. "You got a plaster big enough for this?"

The concern vanishes, and she's got that fiery look in her eyes again, like she's got something to prove. Before I can even process what she's doing, she walks to one of the busted windows and gives it a hard kick, sending glass shattering and letting more of the storm in. Then she snatches up a shard of broken glass, and takes it to her hand as if she's openin’ a parcel from the post.

"Oi! What’n the hell are you doing?!"

Panic shoots through me as I hurry to wrest the glass from her grip before she can do any more harm. I'm in a frenzy, though I don’t know why, all to prevent this complete stranger from harmin’ herself. And the whole time, she's actin’ as if she hasn't just maimed herself right in front of a bloke she's never met before. Like it's just another Tuesday for her, ain’t it?

The glass shatters as it hits the ground, and I've got her hand in mine, trying to get a proper look at her, but then something absolutely mental happens. It's her hand; I'm watching the cut bloody heal right before my eyes. What the hell is going on here?

She's back to banging on about how she can help me, and maybe she can, but my brain's spinning, considering if this could be some sort of trick or if there's even a sliver of hope I could soar once more. Dunno why but I touch her hand, where the gash was an it’s just fine, skin soft and whole.

"I won't hurt you," her voice is warm, like a cozy jumper on a chilly day. This girl, she's a bit loopy, but I'll be damned if she isn't genuine. “Look, just let me help you and I’ll go.”

She won’t hurt me? Now that’s downright precious, as if someone as pint-sized as her could get the jump on me, busted wings or not I’m no slouch in a fight. Still, she inches closer.

"What's your name?" No way I can manage an answer, too busy tryin’ to make sense of what just happened. "I'm Ivy," She keeps closing in, moving like she's trying to corner a spooked animal, maybe that's what I am.

Suddenly, she's right in front of me, eyes fixed on my wings and the scars etched into the rest of my body, I must look a mess. Eventually, and I can’t believe I’m entertaining this nonsense.

"Will it hurt?" My voice is weaker than I’d like, but really? I’m terrified.

"I don’t know, all I have to do is touch you." Her hand's right there, closer to me than anyone's been since my cage days. I jump back for a moment, hit with a surge of panic. She's too close, too kind, too real, it can't be real, can it? Says the bloke with wings, I know.

I mean, we're in a bloody church, the Big Guy's gaff where miracles are supposed to go down, and what kind of tosser would I be if I didn't have a bit of faith in Him, even after the rubbish hand I've been dealt? I swallow down my nerves, what’s the worst that could happen? Best case scenario, she patches me up, and I'm whole again. Worst case, I look like a right idiot, either way, I’m no worse off.

Fuck it, I grab her hand, pulling it against my cheek as if ripping off a metaphorical plaster, and I can feel her other hand gently takin’ hold of my wing. Then, I shut my eyes tight.

It ain’t painless, not by a long shot. It's like an electric shock coursin’ through my entire body. Like being torn apart and pieced back together and there ain't no rhyme or reason to it. Every inch of me is screamin’ to push her away, to tear her hands off me. But then I see her face, focused and intense, and I can’t help but think that she's got this under control.

The pain’s almost unbearable, the kind that shoots up your spine when you pop a dislocated shoulder back into place. One moment, I’m all broken and torn, but the next, I can feel things clickin’ back into place as if some invisible force is yankin’ my body around like a rag doll. Bones creakin’ back into proper position, nerves sparking back to life, skin stretchin’ to cover the gaps, tendons, and muscles knittin’ themselves together, all at once, after months of being in disarray. It's a symphony of agony and renewal, a bluster of snapping and shifting.

I grit my teeth, tryin’ not to scream, but a low, guttural groan tears its way out of my lungs. My back arches involuntarily, and I can feel the sweat pourin’ down my face. Every muscle in my body tenses, and my heart’s racin’, it's a chaotic whirlwind of sensations, a rollercoaster of pain and relief.

I can feel a pulse and crackle of energy in the air, the faint hum of somethin’ ancient and powerful, and it feels like it's crawling under my skin. I reckon I've got no faith in God, but I've got faith in Ivy, and right now, that's enough. It's excruciatin’, and I'm on the verge of passing out from the sheer agony. As the seconds drag on, I can feel my strength ebbin’ away, my body changin’ and mending in ways I didn’t know were possible. I sink to my knees, muscles tremblin’, and Ivy holds onto me like she's afraid I'll slip away, just as everything starts to blur, to meld into a haze of pain and darkness, I can't help but think that maybe, just maybe, I'll be whole again when I wake up.

When I finally force my eyes open, I see blurry outlines, and my wings feel... different. It's like I can actually feel it, strong and whole. It's overwhelmin’ the way my body’s speakin’ to me again. Ivy's face hovers above me, an her eyes are full of concern. The room’s lit up in a faint glow but I can’t tell from where or what, the air’s heavy with the scent of rain and something else, something like life and renewal.

"Easy there tiger," I'm sprawled on the cold floor, feeling like I've been hit by a double-decker coach, my limbs heavy as lead, and Ivy's right there, holding me up, the pain all but vanished but I'm still aching all over. "I've got you," she says, helping me sit up.

"Did it work?" I ask, feeling like I've just come out of a rough night at the pub, sick and battered. She gives me a shake of ‘er head and this sympathetic smile like I've just asked the daftest question in the world.

"See for yourself."

I've never been so nervous to look over my shoulder, but sure enough, the blood's gone and I see full feathers, and I push myself up, testin’ the movement cautiously. They respond smoothly, without even a twinge of the previous stiffness and pain. A wave of relief crashes over me, and for the first time in what feels like ages, I feel like I've got my whole body back under my control. No pain. I'm whole. Ivy's healing touch has done what I thought was bleedin' impossible.

Can't believe it, and I was this close to giving this bird the boot. I almost missed out on getting my wings back. She's got this cheeky grin on her face, like she knows she's just pulled off something bloody brilliant, and she plops back down on the floor. She looks absolutely knackered, like she's just run a bleeding marathon. No doubt fixing me up took a toll on her. She did that for me, a complete stranger. I could kiss this girl.

“What’re you waiting for? Try ‘em out.”

I don’t need to be told twice and I jump up my wings carrying me with ease for the first time in months, I’m in the rafters before you can blink and I can feel the smile creeping on my face. I’m flying. I’m weightless again, never thought I’d take to the skies again but here it is.

I’m on top of the world after soaring, even if it’s just in the cathedral hall, feeling the exhilaration of flight once again. My mind’s racing with the possibilities, places I can go, things I can do — I feel free again. And no one’s ever gonna put me in a cage again, not as long as I have breath in my lungs.

I need to go higher, feel the wind on my face, and let the rain drench me. A bit of rain ain't gonna hurt. There's a gap in the rafters where the old roof gave way, it’s my way out. I take a leap, and push myself up through the ceiling, out into the open. Soaring higher and higher, as fast as my wings'll take me.

The rain's pelting my face, soaking me to the bone, clothes sticking to me, but honestly, I don't give a toss. I'm free, that's all that matters. I'm pulling off some mad aerial tricks, spinning and looping through the sky like a bloody circus act. I'm doing every crazy move I know, because I can. The buzz is unreal. I've missed this, more than I knew. Up here, nothin’ can touch me. No one can lay a finger on me. I'm probably giving people a proper shock, might even turn a few doubters into believers if they happen to catch a glimpse of me.

I'm as light as a feather, climbing higher and higher, feeling the adrenaline rush. Time's got a mind of its own up here, and I ain't payin’ it any attention. It's only when I start feeling the cold from the altitude and notice my teeth are chatterin’ and my body shakin’ that I clock it's time to head back down and warm up.

I've got to find that fiery lass and plant a good one on her lips, I don’t care if I get smacked. Might not be the best at saying thanks, but I've got to let her know – thanks for saving my arse.

I make a soft landing inside the church, and the pigeons up in the rafters scatter like they've seen a ghost. Pigeons, the church's most faithful congregation, it seems. The excitement courses through me like electricity, pure joy that's been absent for a while. It feels like the very first time I ever flew.

"Ivy!" I shout, my voice is brimmin’ with enthusiasm. "Ivy, where are you, Love?" But there's nothin’ but silence. My heart drops like a lead weight. She's gone. The church door is still locked, just as I left it, so I glance toward the window she used to come in. It's my best guess – she must have slipped out the same way she came in. But why? Where's she off to? Without much thought, I burst through the ceiling again, eager to catch up with her. Why'd she leave me hanging like this?

"Women," I mumble, feeling a twinge of frustration.

I’m soarin’ through the rain-drenched skies, scannin’ the area for any sign of her. But it's as if she's vanished into thin air. Why the bloody hell would she do this?

I'm on the verge of giving up when I finally spot her, trudging along a dimly lit side street. She looks like she's been dragged through the mud, drenched and downcast. She doesn't even need to face me – I can see the sorrow in her gait. There's somethin’ about how women walk when they're hurtin’ as if they don't care where they're headed, just that it's somewhere far away from their problems.

Hugging herself, arms wrapped ‘round tight, against the cold and the world – it's as if she's saying, "If no one else’ll protect me, I'll do it myself."

I could've left her to it, pretended I didn't give a toss. After all, she was the one offerin’ to help me, wasn’t she? At least that's the story I want to buy. But life’s got this funny way of throwing choices right in your path, makin’ you pick a road, and tonight’s no different.

There I am, watching her pass that dodgy old warehouse when a couple of blokes start tailing her, sneaking out of a dingy alley like rats on the prowl. Another shadow joins in, and then a third. This doesn't feel right at all.

My blood goes icy, and me fists clench at the sight of those blokes, slitherin’ after Ivy like sharks on the prowl for an easy catch. All I can think about is them snatchers, the wankers who cracked me over the head and chucked me in that bleedin' cage. My anger bubbles up as they close in, and Ivy starts legging it. No chance I'm letting that happen on my watch.

I drop down, making a splash as I hit a muddy puddle, throwing my wings wide. You know the saying, make yourself look bigger, and even the dodgy sods tend to scarper. Them blokes take one look at me, and I reckon they either think they're seeing things or that I've brought down the wrath of the gods, 'cause they bugger off faster than they came.

Now I've got Ivy to deal with, and she's looking rather gobsmacked at the sight of me.

"You pester me for a place to crash, and then you just bugger off?" I’ve got to practically shout to be heard over the pounding storm; it’s deafening.

She just stands there, staring at me, like she ain’t got the faintest idea why I'd shown up. "That was the deal, remember?" She don’t seem half as annoyed as I am about her disappearin’ act. Admit I got so caught up in my own head, all I could think about was getting patched up. Completely missed the whole 'let me help you, and I'll go’ part.

"Don't remember making any bloody deal," I tell her, my exasperation making me snap. Women and their dramatic flair, I swear.

"You made it pretty clear you weren't looking for company," I can’t argue with that. At the time, I just wanted to be left alone, but that was also when I thought I'd never fly again.

"Oh, for God's sake!" I groan, she’s milkin’ this for sure. Truth is, I never really intended to kick her out. But I'm a bloke, and us blokes can be stubborn idiots when we're hurting.

She's lookin’ at me like I just accused her of stealing the crown jewels, like she don't have a clue what to say.

"What're you so upset about? Thought you wanted to be alone? It’s not like we’re friends. I don’t even know your name."

Suddenly, I feel about as big as a sodding ant, not sure what to spit out in response. A smarter bloke might come up with some slick line like 'I'm sorry, let's sort this out,' but I'm no Einstein. We're all daft sods, incapable of admitting when we cock things up. Instead, we act like it's their fault for our piss-poor choices.

"Look, you’ve got your wings back so you don’t need me anymore, just go back, I'm fine." I'm an idiot, that much is clear, but even I know that when a bird says 'she’s fine,' she really ain't.

I snatch her arm, and the words "Just come back" feel foreign on my tongue, sour and bitter, but I can't figure out why. Actually, I know why, I’m missin’ the apology part. She's a decent lass, and I've been a right arse to her since she came into my life. Maybe it's my pride getting in the way, who knows? "Look, I'm sorry it ain't exactly the Ritz-" Classic deflection, ignorin’ the real issue at hand, as if that'll help my case. I just want her to stay, and maybe give me a chance to make things right.

She’s quick on the comebacks though, "Yeah, 'cause that's exactly what I'm hung up about, a fancy hotel instead of a safe place to sleep." For some daft reason, her choice of safety over luxury hits me square in the gut. “I’m fine on my own too, the difference is I don’t wanna be.”

"Where're you goin’?" I blurt as she tries to leg it for the umpteenth time.

"I'll take my chances with the storm, your Highness."

Your Highness? That’s a bit much ain’t it? She's got a fiery, sassy attitude, looks like I've royally pissed her off. Can't say I blame her, my attitude hasn't exactly been top-notch.

It's not like my name will miraculously make things better, but calling me ‘Your Highness’ definitely ain't meant to be a compliment. There's a pause, a moment of tension between us where the rains makin’ more conversation than we are.

"Warren," I just sort of blurt it out, as if it’s the magic word that’ll fix this mess "My name's Warren.” Something works though, because she stops, she ain’t lookin’ at me but she’s stopped. “Look, just come back, dry off, and stay for a bit, alright?"

I've got my pride, and she's got hers. You’d be hard-pressed to find two people more stubborn than us. But it doesn’t hold, she just looks over her shoulder at me then wraps that sad little jacket tighter ‘round herself.

"Have a nice life, Warren," There’s sadness in her voice an’ I can see the ocean of hurt hidin’ behind her eyes, maybe even a couple of rain-soaked tears. She's trying her best to hold it together. It hits me, she’s really just gonna leave, off into the night like it’s nothin’. Crazy bird. She’d rather walk of finto a bleedin’ monsoon than come back with me, yeah, I’m an idiot and it’s my fault we’re here, but I’m tryin’ to mend things already. Can’t apologize to the back of someone’s head.

Alright, I've had enough of this stalemate. She's not just going to walk away from me, not after what she's done. Without giving her time to react, I grab her wrist, and lift her up into my arms like she don’t weigh a thing, and in the blink of an eye, we're risin’ up into the skies, not going anywhere now, is she?

She's got her arms wrapped around my neck in a second, clutching me like a boa constrictor. Gone is the smart-mouthed attitude, replaced by that quick and panicked "Oh god, oh god, oh god!" as she’s clingin’ to me for dear life.

Where’d all that sass go, eh? I reckon she might've left it on the ground. I can't resist teasing her a bit when I throw in a cheeky remark once we’ve made it up high enough that the storms beneath us.

"I'll bring us back down if you stick around," She’s noddin’ like she's trying to outdo a bobblehead, steals a look at the ground, then decides it’s a bad idea, and squeezes me tighter. She agrees in a heartbeat, burying her head in my chest, practically begging.

"Ok! Ok! I'll stay, I promise! I'm sorry! Just let me go! — Wait! No, no, no! Don't let me go! Just take me back down! Please!"

It's a bit funny to see how she switches from fierce to frightened as soon as we're up in the air, but then she hits me with that ‘please’ and something churns in my gut. What she doesn't know is that up here in the sky, she's as safe as can be with me.

I ease us back down a bit, and the storm is starting to let up, and the rain’s turning into a gentle mist, but it's still chilly enough that I can see goosebumps on her. I need to get her warm and dry again, so I pick up the pace. It's smooth sailing as I take us back to the church, slippin’ through the rooftop like before. She's still holding onto me, and hasn't quite realized we're back on solid ground again. Poor thing.

"Hey, s’alright, love. Back on terra firma."

It takes a sec but finally, she looks up, her gaze sweeping ‘round the church as if she's just realized we're back inside. Her feet are planted firmly on the ground, and she eases her death grip on me a bit. I can feel where her fingernails diggin’ into my skin, and her hands are tremblin’. It's like she's making herself let go of me, but maybe she doesn't want to, not just yet.

"I've never flown before, not even in a plane," Her voice quivers, and it takes her a moment to get the words out. A pang of guilt hits me as I realize how scared she must have been. Flying's as second nature to me as breathing, and I've never feared it, but I can't blame her for being terrified. I guess I have two things to apologize for now.

The front of the church is where folks gather for worship, and it's open and welcomin’ but the back? Well, that's where the priests get to live all snug and cozy. Church leadership usually has it that way. I take us to the rear of the church nice an slow, where I've got a little setup in one of the parish apartments. It's warm and snug in here, with the cracklin’ heat from the fire I had the sense to light earlier.

She's leanin’ on me, walking with that soggy grace like she’s ahd one too many, and I can see she's waiting for her stomach to stop doing somersaults. She's soaked to the bone, shivering like a leaf but whether that’s from nerves or the cold is hard to tell.

"Hold tight, love, let's get you sorted with something dry." I don't have much to offer, but I rummage around and manage to scrounge up some of my clothes. Just a t-shirt and a pair of joggers, probably going to swallow her whole, but they're warm and dry. She looks at the clothes, then back towards where we came from, a bit dazed. I give my wings a playful flap to get her attention, not as a threat, just teasin’.

"Not thinking of doing a runner on me again, are you?" I’m only half joking. She shakes her head, those eyes of hers are wide like a deer in headlights, clearly rattled from our aerial escapade.

"Alright, then," I give her a nod, offering the clothes. She's a bit hesitant at first but then must recall the perks of being dry and warm, glancing around for some privacy. Not much of that in here, so I turn ‘round to give her some space, throwin’ out my wings just a bit, like a partition. A bloke's gotta be a bit considerate, right?

It’s silent for a few moments, and it's as though I can hear the cogs turning in her head. The quiet gets on my nerves real quick, I hate long silences, makes me worry she might take off any minute, and it makes me realize how much I don’t want her to go. It’s a relief when I can finally hear the sound of her tugging off her wet clothes, seems she's chosen to stick around. Well, time to start talking and clear the air between us.

Cracking your knuckles is a bad habit, I know, but I can’t help it, just something to fill the quiet gaps while I try to figure out what exactly to say.

"Look, I'm sorry," I ain’t usually one for spilling my guts, but there's something about Ivy that makes me want to open up. I genuinely am sorry, sorry for scaring her, sorry for being a prat. She doesn't say anything, though, and I decide to reveal a bit more to this girl who's done more to save my hide than anyone else ever has. "I've been on me own for a long time, and I sort of got used to it, you know? Forgot that there are still some genuine, decent people out there, kind that just want to help."

It feels strange but also liberatin’, talkin’ to her. I can hear her pitching wet clothes on the floor, you know the sound; that wet slop when they hit the ground in a heap, and I'll admit I'm tempted to steal a glance. After all, I'm still a bloke, and that cheeky little devil on my shoulder is throwing up some enticing ideas. However, I can't help but catch the fleeting reflections of her in the glass of the cabinets across from us. Nothing racy, but it looks like she has some tattoos, a bit intriguing, that. I keep talking, laying it all out there, telling her about my life's story, the whole bloody thing.

"I've been fighting for my life all my life, and I can't remember a time when I wasn't in pain, being hurt, or alone. When I thought I lost my wings, I thought that was the end of it for me." I’m fallin’ back into memories and that dark place in my head, an’ its physically weighing me down, like the past don’t wanna see me fly.

Then there’s a hand on my shoulder, cool and gentle, like porcelain, giving me the ok to turn ‘round. Sure enough, the shirt I gave her is way too big, more like a mini-dress, but it’s kinda cute. She looks good in my gear.

"So your response to the first person to be nice to you, was to be an ass?" I shrug, got no real excuse for that.

"Yeah, not my best moment." I start to open up about my long break from flying, the horrors of the cage fighting underground, and my time in captivity. "I did some awful things to survive, Ivy.” The words come out slowly, like they've been stuck in my throat all this time. Funny thing, as I start speaking my peace, them voices that wouldn't shut up earlier, they begin to fade into the background. “I killed mutants, like us. After all that, I figured it was better for me to be alone."

"Because then nobody can hurt you," She's not exactly questioning, more like she understands that feeling all too well. It's got me wondering what Ivy's story is. She said she'd never flown before, not even on a plane, so how’d she end up here in London?

Dunno how it happened, but Ivy's not feeling like a complete stranger anymore. She’s more like a friend, the kind who sticks around even when you’re being a right arse, even when you hurt 'em. Like, she reckons there's more good in me than them broken bits. She's giving me that soulful gaze of hers, like she's got me all figured out. But at the same time, she's givin’ me that look that says she thinks I'm a proper idiot, and honestly, she's probably spot on.

I’m shakin’ my head. This part... it's delicate, touchy even. If this don't get me a smack, then I don't know what will, and let's be honest, I probably deserve it. There's only a step or two between us, and I just need one to reach her. So, as smooth as I can manage, trying not to come off like some sort of creep, I lean in and press a kiss to her lips, soft as a feather. Not the kind of kiss that says 'Let’s get it on,' just a simple one, nothing more than innocent. Her lips are as soft as I imagined, a real treat.

It's just a brief brush of lips, nothin’ that would make the Vicar choke on his tea, and it’s over pretty quick. But when I pull away, she's got this dreamy look on her face, like she's lost in thought, all starry eyed.

"Is that because you scared the Hell out of me?"

"No, well, a bit of that too. It's more 'cause I've been a proper fool since I first set eyes on you, haven't even said a 'thank you'—you -- you've no idea what this means,"

Can't put it into words, can ya? I mean, how do you even describe something like this? It's like givin' sight to a blind bloke or makin' a cripple strut their stuff again, but in a way, ain't that what she's done? I turn ‘round and slowly lift my wings, not to show off or anything, but just so she can get a proper gander at 'em. She saw 'em when they were shattered, hangin' by a thread, slowly fallin' to pieces and takin' me with 'em. Somehow, I reckon if I can show her how powerful they are now, how I love takin' off into the sky, it might finally hit her just what she's achieved. They're massive, near five meters, and I ain't been able to hoist 'em like this in months, not like this. She's mended me, healed me. It's like a proper miracle, somethin' out of a chapter in the Bible itself. "Cheers, love."

"You're welcome," she says, still a bit breathless and looking a bit lost for words.

She’s still wearing that starstruck look and can’t help but think how nice that kis was but I know better than to push my luck with another one. As much as I'd love to but she's givin’ me a slow once-over, and it's got me feelin' a bit self-conscious, mate. Ain't never had anyone eye me up the way she's doin' right now. But I know that look, and it's tellin' me she likes what she sees.

"You gonna change into some dry pants, or is hypothermia to be your idea of a good time?" She’s quick with the sass, must have it on tap, I let out a scoff, can't help myself, and decide to let her in on a little secret.

"You're wearin' the only other ones I've got."

She lets out an "Oh," and her reaction's a mix of surprise and a touch of embarrassment. But it ain't slow in changin' her mood. She promptly shimmies them down her legs and hands 'em back to me, just like that, like she ain’t standing half naked in front of me.

I'm a bit gobsmacked, to be honest. She's just there in my shirt, which don't exactly cover much, but she don't seem to give a toss. She just gives me this little cheeky smirk and turns ‘round, just like I did for her. Got a decent gander at them tattoos I spotted earlier, just peekin' out from under my shirt. But instead of gettin' caught oglin' her backside, I start working on my boots, tryin' not to make it too obvious that I'm stealin' glances at her legs, like I said, the shirt don’t cover much. Can't help it though, they're right at eye level, and it's not a bad view. She does this thing where she uses one foot to rub the top of the other, like she's cold or somethin'. Makes sense though don’t it, toes are always the first things to freeze. Comes off as cute, it does.

I kick the boots near the fire to dry and make fast work of my trousers, feelin' the chill seep into my bones as soon as air hits my skin and I’m steppin' into the joggers, quick as I can. I gotta admit, it's bleedin' nice to feel a bit drier, even if I'm still shiverin' from the rain. The fire's cracklin' away, castin' a warm glow over the room, and I can see her silhouette against the flickerin' light.

"Alright then, love," I clear my throat, trying not to overstep by touching her, not after practically manhandling her earlier and that kiss I just stole. She's lookin’ at me proper now, can practically feel her eyes burning into me.

"See somethin' you like?"

Can’t help but be a bit cheeky, can I? I’m expecting the usual response: a blush, a look-away, or a tell-off, like most birds do. Not Ivy, though, she ain’t most birds. She meets my gaze dead on, sporting a little look that’s pure mischief if I’ve ever seen it, before going toe to toe with me, reaching for the back of my neck and pulling me down, planting one on me. It ain't the kinda kiss that'd make a priest blush, but it feels like a million quid.

"What's that for?"

"Because I didn’t think you’d do it again," Well, she ain't exactly wrong, but if I'd known she was playing that game, I'd have skipped giving her clothes to change into and headed straight for the main event. You don't kiss a bloke like that unless you're lookin' for trouble.

"All you had to do was ask, love," Women, they're all over the place, ain’t they? Here I am thinkin’ she’s just some shy girl but nah, she's the type who'll snog your face off until you forget your own blinking name.

"Are you sure about this? You barely know me," Am I really bein’ the voice of reason here? The bloke is the one pointin’ out how crazy it is to shack up with a stranger? She takes a step back, maybe wonderin’ if I'm havin’ second thoughts. But that ain’t the case at all. I slip my arm around her, stoppin’ her retreat, letting her know I'm more than interested, just a tad wary. "It's just... seems a bit reckless, you know? Hooking up with a bloke you've only just met." As soon as I hear my own words, I kick myself for being such a twit and pray to anyone listenin’ that she don’t get cold feet.

She flashes me a grin, one that's teeming with mischief and a hint of wicked intentions, and it puts me at ease. It's clear that Ivy is doing exactly what she wants to do at this moment. We're just a pair lookin’ a bit of comfort tonight. She’s kissin’ me and each one is hotter than the last, and she knows how to keep a bloke yearning for more, that's for sure. In between those lips of hers, she starts talking to me.

"Your name's Warren, you've got goddamned angel wings and can actually fly." She says before locking lips with me again. "You might come off as a bit of an ass, but you're one hell of a kisser." Is that about right? "You're feeling lonely, and I've got my moments too. And if even half of what you just told me is true, it looks like you could use someone to spoil you a bit."

Blimey, did she just say all that? My blood's runnin' hot, and it feels like my heart's ready to burst out of my chest. She's got my undivided attention now, if she didn't have it before. Ain't even heard this girl so much as swear, but now it's all 'goddamned this' and 'you're a good kisser.' And she wants to spoil me? Bloody hell. Who is this lass anyway? Hang on, you know what? I couldn't give a toss. She can do as she pleases, and I'm not going to complain.

I feel her arms cinched tight around my neck, her voice oozing with confidence as she peppers me with kisses, and my daft brain is stuck on the fact that she reckons I'm a good kisser and wants to treat me, mullin’ over how she'll manage that, as if she hasn't already done more than enough for me.

As if she hasn't already put me back together; complete.

As she's layin' them on me, I'm takin' in more than just her taste, the faint hint of rain on her, mixed with that sweet, addictive flavor that's all her. I can feel the warmth of her soft lips pressin' against mine, and her breath, it's got that soft tickle, like a whispered secret that makes the hairs on my neck stand on end. The sweet scent of her skin mixed with the fresh rain lingerin' in the air gets my senses all stirred up. Her fingers are tangled in my hair, tugging at it just enough to send shivers down my spine, and my heart's drummin' a wild beat, like I'm at a bloody rock concert. Every touch and taste's screamin' at me, and I can't help but want more of it. The way she presses her body against mine, hips fitting perfectly with mine, sends a rush of heat through me.

It's like I'm on bloody fire, and it's all her fault.

Solitude wasn't ever my cup of tea, and who in their right mind would want that anyway? Who wants to miss out on moments like this?

As my knees hit the sofa, I tumble back, my wings instinctively unfoldin' to help me keep my balance. It's a move I've missed, a little habit that ain't been possible for months. Must make for quite the sight. She perches herself on my lap like she belongs there, eager for more. A right stunning bird's got me pinned to the sofa in front of a crackling fire, and I sure as hell didn't reckon this mornin' would lead to this steamy rendezvous. Feelin' that pleasant haze wash over me, the kind that makes you a bit drowsy 'cause you're just so damn relaxed and every touch is pure bliss. Missed this, bein' kissed, and feelin' them gentle caresses. The fire in my gut's roarin', tellin' me a night of wild passion's on the horizon, and sleep ain't even a consideration.

She's all in, her hands tangled up in my hair as our lips, teeth, and tongues doin' this fiery tango. I like a bird who knows what she wants, and Ivy is proving to be nothin' short of electrifyin' and I'm more than happy to fly a little closer to the sun.

That tongue of hers, it’s makin’ my head spin, and got my cock wonderin' what other talents that tongue possesses. My entire body's pulsing with the kinda want that makes you feel like a teenager again.

Her hands are all over me, up my shoulders, around the back of my neck, and just where my wings are. It's a touch I haven't had in ages, and I've bloody well forgotten how good it feels. That spot's a bit sensitive, it's ruffling my feathers in every sense of the word. It's like tugging on strands of hair, sending shivers down your spine.

She's caught me off guard, that's for sure, but I'm not so daft that I forget how to treat a girl. It just takes me a second to get my bearings. It's hard to keep your wits about you when most of your blood's rushing south, if you catch my drift. Her hair feels like silk through my fingers, and while I’m enjoying that mouth of hers, I wanna taste more. She's making these little sounds when I start kissin’ her neck, somewhere between a sigh and a moan. Music to my ears, it is.

Every bird's got her soft spots, those secret places that make her jump, whimper, and get all squirmy and hot for you when you kiss or touch her. With her long hair, I'd wager my last quid that hers is on her neck under her ear. A little love bite tells me I've hit the mark. When I give that spot a little nip, she clings onto my hair tighter, and her hips start pressin’ into mine. Kissing is top-notch, but it's clear we're both itching for more. I want her on her back, legs wrapped around me as we lose ourselves in the heat of the moment. Call me chivalrous, but I reckon I owe this girl one hell of a ride tonight.

I want her to see bloody stars and take her so high she won't want to come back down.

Her legs are tremblin’ when I touch her, but I think it's got more to do with how much she's loving it and less about being nervous. I think I'm getting to her, but it's not enough; I need her closer. I want all these clothes between us gone, and every inch of her skin on mine. Though I'd love to rip her damn shirt off and toss it aside, I'm waiting to see if she has a change of heart, plus I don’t exactly have spares. Girls lose their nerve sometimes, you know. I've got quite the tent pitched, and it'd be a shame if I had to take care of it myself.

Ivy's just as eager as I am, giving me a hand as I lift her arms, and the shirt slips off in a flash. She wasn't sportin’ anything beneath it, and I can feel her pebbled skin against mine and I groan. It’s hard to keep me eyes open but when I do I catch a glimpse of black knickers, maybe something silky like satin, with a hint of lace. They look stunning, but they've got to go. Seeing a girl like this is a breath of fresh air: Her hair's all tousled, and her breathing sounds like she's just finished a marathon, mad with want. With each kiss, she's becoming more and more insatiable, and now there's one less thing between us.

Can't really explain it, but I'm still a bit on edge about touching her, daft as it sounds. She's starkers on my lap, her tongue's down my throat, tits pressed into my chest and she's grabbing me, grindin’ into me, making all those noises that drive a bloke mental. She's snagged my lip between her teeth, and them hands of hers are scratchin’ their way down my stomach till she's got at my joggers, rubbing my hips, hips rocking against mine. It's embarrassing, the sounds I'm makin’ but she seems to like 'em just fine.

Can't help but grab her by the backside and pull her right against me, showing her what them kisses are doing to me, I’m hard as bleedin’ steel, can feel my cock leaking beggin’ to be touched. It's been ages since I've had a good shag, and it didn't feel half as good as this.

That tongue of hers, it's gonna be a proper challenge, innit? I mean, ain't no bloke gonna complain about a girl with skills, but the issue is she's too damn good at it. Feels so good it's like walking a tightrope, ya know? Gotta keep my composure and make sure I ain't done before the main event even starts. Gotta slow things down or switch gears, anything to keep control, mate.

Here's the thing about girls when they're into you, they like looking right into your eyes. Can't say for sure why, but I reckon it's 'cause they want to see us at our most vulnerable. Or maybe it's 'cause they're seeing a side of us no one else does. Not even our closest mates get that look. It's all just for them. And that's when I get my chance to turn the tables a bit more in my favor.

She's breathing heavy, pulling back from a kiss, and looking at me like she's lost in a fog, same one I’m stumblin’ my way through. Feels like she might say something for a minute, but I reckon her brain's working about as well as mine is.

Her expression is a treat when I manage to snake a hand between us, slippin’ beneath those black knickers to find she's in a right state, all heated up and practically on fire, drippin’, and desperate as they come. She seizes up, and I can see the shiver that travels from the top of her head down to her toes when I find that little spot between her legs, the one that makes her moan. Her mouth falls open against mine, not kissing me, not uttering a single word. It's as if she can't even form proper sentences. That's the sweet spot, the one most blokes overlook, thinking their cocks are all that's needed to satisfy a woman. But that's not the case; you've got to give attention everywhere. Gotta to take your time with them. Trust me, it's well worth every second when they've got that look in their eyes. You know the one, that wild gaze that says, ‘We're not going anywhere until I've had my fill of you.’

Eyes wide, lips quivering, body shivering, that's when you've found your rhythm and I’ve found hers. Rollin’ her hips against my hand, an’ she's letting out these little moans with each little twirl of my thumb. She feels like silk, hot, wet and soft.

"How's that, love?"

I know I've got her right where I want her, she's falling apart in my lap. Can see her brain short-circuiting on the spot, words are a struggle, but her body's telling me everything I need to know. She manages a nod, though. It's like she's had a few too many, eyes heavy, chest heaving. Her back’s arching and she’s biting down on her lip, I can tell she's getting close. That didn’t take long, I’m either readin’ this girl like a book or it’s just been that long, and anything will set her off, though I’m hopin’ it’s the first one.

Seeing her like this, it's a far cry from the scrappy ginger girl who climbed in through a busted church window and traded barbs with me. She's gripping onto me, burning into my eyes with hers, and I thought I had her then and there, but then I feel those fingers of hers on the back of my neck, making their clever way down near my wings, and I know I'm in trouble. Guess she picked up on my sweet spot. I can feel the tips of her fingers dancing between my shoulder blades, my wings barely touching, a caress so soft that if I didn't know better, I'd think it was just a breeze. But I do know better, and this little minx is doing it on purpose.

The little smirk on her lips is just confirming what I already know. She's trying to hold off, thinks she can outlast me. Well, two can play at this game.

"That’s lovely, darlin’ but I bet you go before I do," It’s hard to keep the stutter out of my breath.

But then there's that look in her eyes again, the one that tells me she ain't gonna make it easy on me, and I believe her. She leans in close like she's gonna whisper something only I can hear, and I can feel her lips and tongue on my ear, and it's bloody hard not to shudder or make a sound.

She’s got something up her sleeve, and when I feel her teeth tugging in my ear she says it, the thing that comes close to making me cummin’ in my damn joggers.

“Warren, please make me cum baby,”

Bloody hell. I'm biting my tongue so hard I’m waitin’ to taste blood. At least, I’m tryin’, until she lands a kiss on me and licks her way into my mouth. Hearin’ her say my name like that, feelin’ her teeth graze my skin, she actually said ‘please’. Called me ‘baby’ like I’m her fella. She’s beggin’ me to get her off, no joke.

Never had a girl get me fired up like this, never wanted anyone half as much as I want her right now. Never growled at a girl out of sheer hunger. But that's exactly what I'm doing. I've got a handful of her hair wrapped around my fist to pull, just enough to get at her neck.

"Asked you a question," It's a bloody challenge to keep my cool and not just dive right in, rip those knickers off and sink my cock into her right here, right now. "How's. That?" I give her a couple of gentle love taps, and she's jerkin’ in my lap, letting out these desperate little whimpers. It's like I've thrown petrol on the fire between us, and she's not the only one who's getting worked up, my cocks so hard it hurts.

I might have the wings of an angel, but I can play the part of a devil just as well.

She's fumbling for the right words, trying to get 'em out, but it's like she's swallowing her nerves and revving up her brain at the same time. No doubt I've got her all riled up. I can hear the desperation in her voice, but she's back to kissin’ me like she means it, like she's starved for it.

Her lips on mine ain't gonna change what I'm waitin’ to hear from her. It's not gonna distract me for long, either. I'll keep her right on the edge if I have to. Slowing down those little circles on her clit till she practically sobs, just need her to tell me and I’ll finish her off.

"G– Good. God, it's good!" There it is. "Warren!" I could get used to hearing her say my name like that, like she's pleading or something. Ask and ye shall receive, then, eh? As promised I start up again on her, working my thumb in circles faster and tighter, it’s tempting to slip in a finger but I’m pretty sure if I do that’ll be the end of it for me. “Fuck!”

Can't explain it. Don't know what it is about hearing Yanks curse, especially the ladies. Even more so when they're letting out those choice words while you've got your hands all over them and they’re getting close, it's a real turn-on. Some might say Americans throw the word ‘fuck’ like we throw out the word ‘bloody’ but in the heat of the moment, it's like a fiery exclamation mark it's like music to my ears, especially when it's Ivy saying it, and I love it. She's ready to fly, not giving a damn about anything else and I'll make sure she gets there, just needs one final nudge...

"Ivy, want you to kiss me, then I want you to come," I tell her, and she does, our teeth clinking together as she kisses me hard, that the last bit of resistance in her breaks, and she comes undone. She's moanin' into our kiss, her hands are clawin’ at me like she can't get enough and writhin' against me.

Could be a spot for some fun here if she’s not too sensitive, gotta be careful, don't wanna mess up the vibe. I’m barely touching her now, occasionally grazing hte inside of her thigh, I can tell by how she's squirming that she's a bit sensitive, most girls are, but I’d bet money I can have her thrashin’ again here soon. There's something about watching a girl lose herself in an orgasm like that and knowing you're the reason, it's a proper power trip. She's looking at me like she's famished, and I slip my hand from her knickers, trying not to startle her. But she gives me a surprise when she snatches my hand and slips my thumb past her lips licking it clean, all the while keeping her eyes locked on mine. My cocks harder than it’s ever been and ready for attention, something about that feeling, having a girl suck on your fingers, let’s just say it leaves little to our imaginations.

She's on me again, layin' kisses down my neck and chest, gettin' lower and lower, then she sinks ot the floor and I'm strugglin' to keep my breathin' steady. I've seen that look before, know what's comin' next, and damn right, I've earned it. Feels like I'm frozen, seeing her look up at me, all that anticipation's gonna do me in. But she's takin' her sweet time, not rushin' for nothin'. I can't even look away, not when she's pullin' at my joggers and my blood's startin' to boil. Next thing I know, she's chuckin' 'em over her shoulder and takin' me in hand, givin' me these slow, soft strokes. My breath's caught in my throat, like I'm breathin', but no air's comin' in or out, just goin' through the motions. It'll catch up in a sec, and bloody hell, it's amazin', never felt better.

My eyes are drooping, and I can't keep my head up anymore, so I lean back and let the it all wash over me. Closing me eyes, takin’ it all in, just feeling everything. Her hands are warm, her lips soft, and her touch is just right. It's absolutely spot-on. Every touch sends a jolt through me, it's ramping me up a bit more, but I've got to say, I'm not in any hurry to take the reins. She said she wants to spoil me, and I'm dying to find out what that's like. Normally, it's a mutual affair, both of you getting into it, but this? It's not the usual back and forth, both of you going at it. This ain't like any other time with any other girl. Ivy, she's taking her time, making sure I feel every bit of what she's got to offer, and If tomorrow I'm a goner, then I'll go out with a smile on my face.

It's like a proper enchantment, the world's gone all soft, and all I can bloody feel is pleasure, not a lick of pain, and I couldn't give two figs about being naked right now, even though we're in a church. My mind's gone off to the races, too far gone to care about being self-conscious, thanks to the magic Ivy's working on me.

When she's finally done teasing me, that mouth of hers swallows my cock whole, and a groan tears itself from my throat, and I couldn't care less if the whole world hears. I'm throwing every bloody curse word I know, but none of them seem powerful enough to describe how damn amazing this feels. It's a sensation I haven't had in ages. And just like that, my eyes snap open, and my hips jerk as if I've lost control over myself. All I want is more, more of what she's giving; hot, wet, and sweet.

I can't help the noises escaping my mouth, growing louder and louder, which might sound a bit pathetic, but honestly, I couldn't give a toss. I just need her not to stop, not with that clever mouth of hers or those wicked lips. My hands are tangled up in her hair, not that I'm trying to pull, but it seems to encourage her, spurring her on.

Takes me a full minute to realize she's slowing down and planting kisses low across my stomach. Finally, I can catch my breath, and some thoughts are making their way through my foggy brain.

"Warren?" She asks in between kisses that seem to whisper, 'I want you,' and devious love bites that scream, 'You're mine.'

I manage to croak out a response, "You're not done, are you?" I sound like I've just run a flaming marathon, all out of breath and barely hanging on. I know it's selfish, but when it's been this long and she feels this good, you can't blame me. She shakes her head and lays another kiss on me, sucking on my skin hard enough to leave marks.

"No, I just need to know something." Her mouth might have stopped, but those hands of hers haven't; they're stroking, touching, keeping me right on the edge.

"Y—yeah, love? What's that?" Can't believe I've managed that much.

"Slow or fast?" My eyes pop open again, and I'm gobsmacked. She's giving me the choice? I don't know, and I don't give a toss, as long as she doesn't stop. But the longer I look at her, it's clear she wants me to pick, and now I'm in a proper bind. Fast is smashing when you're in a rush to get off, but I'm in no hurry, and I want this to last as long as it bleedin' can. Slow? Well, slow takes a load of discipline not to give in as it all builds up.

"Slow." Dunno if the angel or the devil on my shoulder picked that one, but this is one of those times when there's no right or wrong answer.

And a second later, she grins and says, "Good answer," and gets back to it, taking my cock back into her mouth slower this time till I hit the back of her throat. Bleeding amazing. It was a right bloody good answer.

My throat's gonna be raw tomorrow, not that there'll be a cuppa strong enough to sort that out, but that's the last thing on my mind. Licking up and down slow, lapping at the crown of my cock, then sucking hard and slow, flicking her tongue in all the right spots. Her hand’s wrapped ‘round me, stroking and between the two it’s a miracle I’ve not already spilled into her mouth yet. All I can think is 'Not yet, not yet' as Ivy's got me hurtling closer and closer to that mind-blowing finish line. Stupid as it sounds, I'm powerless, couldn't move even if I wanted to. My body's gone and taken over, saying 'Sit down, mate, and enjoy the ride.'

"Ivy! Love, y--you've gotta stop. Ain't gonna last much longer,"

I manage to choke out, but she don’t seem to care, just looking me dead on and moaning as she swallows me again. If anything, she speeds up a bit, the pace still slow and steady, but now there's a sense of urgency to get me there. She's bloody brilliant at this, I was right about that tongue of hers, licking me like a goddamned lolly, I can feel my eyes fluttering shut, and my limbs turning to lead. I'm stuck, just caught in this blissful trance, letting Ivy take charge as she's dead set on seeing me through.

Is this what they call heaven, then?

Y'know, there comes a moment when you've crossed the point of no return, when it's all steam ahead and no brakes, and for me, it was when Ivy shot back her answer. I told her she needed to slow down, so I could take her right, but this girl, this devil in an angel's guise, just gave me this cheeky grin, mouthful of my cock said:

"You will."

Well, that’s the end of it.

My gut tightens and it hits me like a bloody freight train, ripping through my body like a burst dam. Just spillin’ everything I’ve got, can feel her swallowing, and I dunno how she’s doin’ it but she doesn’t miss a drop. No control left, hands in her hair, pulling like a madman, going at it like a wild animal, growling and moaning like I'm barely even human. It’s hard not to grab her hair and fuck her mouth, it's too much, like an electric shock running through every last nerve I've got, sending ‘em into overdrive.

All I’m seein’ are these bloody fairy lights, then black spots start cropping up in my vision, and it's just too damn intense. But Ivy, she, don't, stop. No, she keeps at it, working me, taking everything I've got to offer, she just keeps swallowing.

In the heat of the moment, I'm blurting out her name, begging her not to stop, tellin’ her how damn good it feels, and I might've even told her I love her, though I'm not entirely sure.

I’ve never cum so hard in my life. And she swallowed every bit of it, like I was the treat and not the other way round. Never seen a girl take as much pleasure in a fella like Ivy just has, taking her time with me, leaving me in the aftermath, shuddering all the way down to my toes. I’m a sweaty mess but I’ve never felt more alive and wanted.

After something like that, I figure I'll need a bit of a breather before I'm ready for another round, and believe me I want one. When she's finally had her fill of me, she climbs back into my lap licking her lips like a cat who’s just got the cream, but that look on her face makes me wonder what's going on in her head. Never been one for kissin’ right after a girl's had her fun swallowin’ my cum down like that, but Ivy lays those kisses on my skin, moving slowly up my chest until she reaches my lips, and suddenly, I couldn't care less about what's happened before. I want to kiss her till she's trembling, make her feel a fraction of how good she made me feel.

Her kisses are easy and slow now, and she fits perfectly in my lap, like she belongs there. And I reckon she does.

"Love, that was bleedin' amazing." She grins lazily and kisses me again. "Wish you'd stopped, though. I'll need a few minutes ‘fore the man downstairs is up again."

When a girl lets out that low, sexy laugh, you know she's got something up her sleeve. And Ivy's laugh tells me she’s playing with a fixed deck.

"Wha’s funny?" I ask, trying to get in on the joke. Then, I feel her hands around me wrapping ‘round my cock again and my head falls back a second.

“Fuckin’ hell!”

I'm waiting for the pain that comes from bein’ so damn senstitive after cumming, but it never arrives. I look down between us and it's quite a shock when I realize I'm ready for another round a lot sooner than expected. She did this, I'm sure of it. ‘Fixed deck’ doesn't even begin to cover it. She's rigged the entire bloody game.

"Told you," She says with a grin and a wink before pushing me back against the sofa.

No way, not a bleedin' chance. Except here I am, starin' at the evidence that tells a different story. I'll have to give myself a right bollocking later for nearly scarin' off this rare bird. What kind of tosser was I being? I'm not usually one for believin' in love at first sight, but Ivy here might be makin' me rethink a few things.

Sure enough, I'm ready for more, and once the shock's worn off, I'm all for it. I pull her into a kiss that has her meltin' against me, arms wrapped around my neck. There are a few ways we could do this, but I'm likin' the position we're in. I can see her face, kiss her, and she's right here with me, sharin' the same breath. I wanna see her when she sinks onto my cock. Wanna watch her fall apart again for me. Wanna see those eyes of hers locked onto me because I'm the only thing that's making her feel this good, and I plan to.

I'm up for takin' control now, but she stops me with a hand on my chest and a shake of her head. It seems she's not done havin' her fun yet. Alright, I'll let her take the lead a bit longer. I did say I like a girl who can take charge, didn't I?

"How do you want this, love?" She can have me any way she likes.

"Keep your eyes open." What's that? She wants what? "I want to look at you."

Whatever the lady fancies. She wants to have a good look at me, see when my eyes go wide and bore right into me. Doesn't bother me, but odds are all she'll see is my eyes rolling to the back of my head. A suck off is brilliant and all, but nothing beats the proper deal, and it's been a bit since I've had both in one night. It's usually one or the other. Oh well, if that gets her off, it's fine by me. Fine by me.

I know she’s trying to stand to shimmy those knickers down but it’s too far, and God, I need to feel her squeeze my cock, right now. So I grab her hips, keepin’ her right where she’s at, pulin’l ‘em to the side and tease her for a minute, close enough. Can feel how hot and drippin’ wet she is, one hand wrapped ‘round her waist the other on my cock pumpin’ a few times for good measure before I push in. Lettin’ her sink down nice and slow, giving her as much time as I can to settle from how much I’m stretching her. Holy fucking hell, I’m struggling to not just start driving up into her, it so fucking tight and it’s a struggle to keep my head in straight. It’s harder to keep my eyes open than I thought. Ivys gone a bit limp in my arms, her mouth’s just hanging open and she lets out this sweet little whimper all the while having a staring contest with me as we sit there together for a sec, gettin’ used to one another.

Can feel tremors race all over me as she squeezes my cock, it’s fucking perfect. There’s something so intense about how she’s looking at me and I tell ya, it don’t look like the same bird I met tonight. The longer I look at her the more she looks like an Angel. My chest is heaving again and it takes a solid minute before I can move or speak again.

"Alright, love?"

I'm praying she says yes, tells me she's never felt better, asks me to fuck her nicely. There's a blush coloring those cheeks of hers, just a bit, and it's lovely. She's lovely like this. No barriers between us, as real as it gets. It feels good, lettin’ her see all of me. Can't explain why I want to kiss her fast and hard but fuck her nice and slow, it just feels like the right thing to do.

"Just give me a sec!" She says, nodding, still getting used to the feel, looks like it’s been a bit for her too. "Fuck, you feel good." Well, if that doesn't stroke a bloke's ego, I don't know what will. It's sure as hell stroking mine just fine, my cocks twitching inside her like it’s tryin’ to kickstart this whole thing.

“Been a minute for you, love?” She gives me a nod, ain’t that a shame?

“Yeah, a little bit.” Can't help but chuckle a bit and give her a long and slow kiss and I reach up for one of her nipples and start teasin’ it while I give a lazy thrust.

“That helping?”

She nods against my lips and grins, wrapping her arms around me again. “Yeah, do that again.” She's moaning with each little movement, and I give her a nod and shift her a bit in my arms, setting her down in a way that's a bit comfier for us both. "Go slow."

"You're gorgeous." Like she asked me, I go slow, slipping out just enough with a groan before going back in. It's intense, letting her feel all of me, sending chills down my back, and she's gripping me like a vice. "Sexy as hell." Out again slowly. "Razor-smart." And back in. It's gonna be hard to keep this pace. It's enough to drive a bloke mad. "So fucking hot, and tight for me, yeah?” Each time I say something like that I can feel her clenchting me harder. She likes it. Could tell her all the thoughts runnin’ through my head right now, tell her how I wanna throw her on her hands and knees and fuck her till she screams my name, tell her I know she likes hearing me talk to her like this cause I can feel her squeeze my cock.

Gotta remind myself to slow down, plenty of time for the harder stuff later, right now I’ve got my cock buried in her and it’s killing me to go so slow, pretty sure she can tell cause after a few thrusts she bucks against me and tells me to go faster and thank God for it. I give her a quick thrust and she jolts then melts back against me.

“Like that?” My voice is harsh and I’m gonna news a cuppca tea after this.

“Harder.” Whatever you want, Ivy.

It’s gonna be hard keeping a rhythm like this, I love having her on my lap where I can see her face, see those tits of her bounce each time I rut against her but I can already feel it killin’ my legs. Need a change of position to keep the pace,

“Hold tight,” I wrap my arms ‘round her legs and put her on her back, that red hair of hers is fanned out and now that I’m driving my cock into her properly I watch her eyes roll back and I see she’s got freckles, all over her cheeks, down her neck and across her chest.

As we find a rhythm that satisfies both of our cravings, my eyes flicker between Ivy, lost in her own little nirvana, and the statues of saints and religious paintings watching us – like some voyeuristic audience. It's safe to say this ain't your typical Sunday service. Can't help but let out a chuckle in my chest; it all depends on what you're worshipping, doesn't it? Two thoughts cross my mind. First, I'm probably heading straight to hell for this. Second, and more importantly, I don't give a damn. Maybe I'll get lucky, and it won't count against my soul. Is a church still a church if the only parishioners it sees are pigeons? I've had a right mess of a life from the day my wings popped up, and if eternity's taking a southerly route, might as well savor it – every touch, every kiss, every thrust, every sound. No sense in second-guessing it now.

I've nearly died, been maimed, imprisoned, jeered at, and left broken and alone. In the grand scheme of things, the world tearing itself apart over mutant or human, all that, this feels right. No pain, no judgment, no wrong – just right. Is it dumb luck that brought Ivy to my church, or is it something else? I'm not a man of faith, other than the belief that bad things can and will happen. Maybe I've earned some grace. I don't even realize I've slowed my pace until I feel Ivy clawing at my hips, her look a mix of 'What’s wrong?' and 'Get on with it'. Most blokes think of dirty things when they're with a girl; here I am, having existential thoughts on fate and destiny. What's wrong with me? Ivy takes charge, wrapping her legs around me, pulling me into more of those kisses that warm the cold parts of your soul and make your head spin like a record. The contrast between the sacred surroundings and the intimate act only adds to the thrill of it all.

The room's quiet now, just the rhythm of our breaths, the soft hymn of skin against skin, and the occasional pop of the fire. It's a soundtrack I'm itching to play on repeat in my head for as long as I can remember. Each note is like a tattoo on my brain, proof of the intensity we just shared, something I could get used to.

I probably look a bit spaced out because Ivy's hand reaches up, bringing me back to the present. She's got this concerned look breaking through. "Hey, where'd you go?"

Good question, where did I go? Not where I should be, that's for sure. I should be right here, soaking in every moment with this stunning girl who's got all my attention.

"Nowhere important," I mutter, only half sure about that. There's a nagging voice in my head, tossing questions I don't have the answers to. What happens when the heat cools down, and we've had our fill? Do we part ways, or maybe stick together for a bit? Being alone isn't all it's cracked up to be, and some company wouldn't be half bad, especially if it's Ivy. Feels like I'm some teenager pondering his first crush, wondering if she 'likes' me likes me. Don't have the answers to those questions right now, but what I do know is that I want more of this. More of Ivy; more of her lips, her smile, her touch, and those noises she makes when I hit her sweet spots.

"What's going on up there?" she asks, her gaze drilling into me, like she ain't quite buying my story.

"Wanna know where my head's at?" I shoot back, with a cheeky grin, cooking up a plan to shift focus. "Right here," I say with a sly snap of my hips, snatching her breath in a surprised gasp. I’ve no idea what’s going to happen, but with Ivy in my arms, there's nothing I want more than to dive back into the chaos we've just cooked up together.

"With this gorgeous girl, causing a bit of a stir, doing things that’ll make a vicar blush." I get back to ramping up the pace I lost, and it seems to satisfy Ivy in more ways than one. Existential dilemmas can wait; right now, it's about us, our fire, and the sweet mess we're making. I'm kicking it up a notch, done with the slow and steady rhythm, now I want it harder and faster.

She's clinging to me just like she did up in the air, but this time, there's no fear in her eyes, maybe just a bit of fear that I might hit the brakes. Those lips of hers are on my neck, marking me up good for all to see, moving with me as I rock us nearer to a spectacular finish. We're damn close now, just a breath away.

I'm delving in deeper now, and with each thrust, I can feel her squirming against me. She's desperate to get her lips back on mine, and that suits me just fine. I’m lost in this, I feel as high and untouchable now as I do when I'm soaring through the skies. She's crushin’ me tighter, and the way she's bucking an wrappin’ her legs around me, tells me she's not far off either. She ain't even looking at me anymore, eyes shut tight, hands clenched into fists above her head, like she's trying to savor every bit of how good she feels. She looks bloody amazing like this.

"Ivy," I murmur, and those emerald eyes of hers snap open. I only now realize they're the greenest eyes I've ever seen. "Look at me." She's got that blissed-out look, but she keeps her eyes open, and our fingers intertwine, somehow bringing us even closer. "Alright?" She just nods with a desperate look in her eyes, and I watch them roll back as she tenses up, back arching, lips quivering until I kiss her, swallowing up the sounds she makes. It's a sight, watching her let go. Knowing I did that to her. Still, it doesn't come close to repaying her for what she's done for me. But the night's long, and we're not hurting for time.

She's grinding against me, and I can feel it when it hits her, riding the wave of pleasure, and it's bloody amazing. Can't believe I've managed to last this long. But, bugger it, a few seconds of Ivy losing it is my undoing, and I go over the edge right after her, free-falling into that blissful abyss. Keeping up the pace like a damn jackhammer, I go stiff when I finally hit the mark and bury myself deep. It all crashes over me—hot, tight, and fast. Every nerve's on fire, and I can't hold back the groans, spouting curses and telling her how fuckin’ good she feels. Then, those fairy lights start flickering back into my vision, creating a halo around Ivy.

Fuckin’ hell, it’s a proper knockout. Loads better than the first one, hitting me like a bloody lightning bolt. It's unreal, nothing's come close to this before. No girl's ever taken me over the edge like Ivy is right now, leavin’ me shaking, feeling like I'm about to collapse.

My elbows on the ground are the only things keeping me from going completely arse over tit. I'm gasping for breath, and it feels like I can't suck it in fast enough. My hips start to stutter to a stop, and I nearly jump out of my skin when I feel Ivy's hand on my shoulder blade, stroking my back. My body's turned into a live wire, every touch from her feels like it's pushing me to the edge again. I swear I can feel my wings vibrating, and that's a new one, don't reckon that’s ever happened before.

The tingling of Ivy's fingers over my back adds to the sensory overload, and I collapse against her, burying my face into her neck, and for a few minutes, I don't move, I can’t.

"You okay?" I'm lying here, completely knackered. I give her some muffled reply that probably sounds like gibberish, that she can't quite catch, adding a bit of humor to the situation. "Say what?"

It’s a chore but I manage to lift my head, ”Never been better. You?” She grins and gives me a lazy smirk.

"I'm good for round three." My eyes go wide as saucers, clocking the mischievous glint in her eyes, and I quickly capture her hands before they can venture lower.

"Are you trying to kill me?" She chuckles, “Look, hate to break your heart love, but after the day I’ve had, I really am gonna need a proper breather.”

She gives me a nod and a heavy sigh like she’s a spoiled princess not gettin’ what she wants, and I roll onto my side, let out a deep breath, and lookin’ at the ceiling. Ivy pulls herself up and looks back at me combing a hand through her tangled hair, lookin every bit as temping now as she was a bit ago. Then she looks around and makes a grab for my shirt but I’m not havin’ any of that and I give her a tug round the waist pullin’ her back against me wrapping my arms around her. "Just let me get a few winks before you go waking me up again, yeah?"

Ivy's worn me out; haven't been this knackered in ages, and I definitely need some shut-eye before we dive back into the fun and games. From the sounds of it, I'll need it because Ivy's up for more. It’s only been a few minutes and she's already starting to drift off, I can feel her breath tickling my chest, her legs tangling with mine. It feels good to have her in my arms, my hand stroking her back. She lets out this content, sleepy, little sigh—pretty cute, and she snuggles into me, making herself at home, and it feels nice to have her close. So nice that I feel a twinge of panic for a second.

"Ivy," I say. She gives me a sleepy little 'Mmhmm.' I can't explain why it's so hard to get the words out—well, that's not true. I know exactly why it's hard because she's close, and she said it perfectly earlier: 'People can't hurt you if you don't let 'em in close.' Rip the plaster off, Warren… if I wake up and she's gone again, at least I've spoken my peace. "You gonna be here when I wake up?"

For a second, I wonder if I took too long to get the words out and she fell asleep, but when I feel her laughing and she traces little designs on my chest, I know she's awake.

"D'you want me to be here when you wake up?" It's a simple question but not easy to answer. Ivy's come into what was left of my life and turned it all topsy-turvy. It feels good to have her here with me. Oh, hell with it, what's the worst she can say?

"Yeah, I do."

She plants a sweet little kiss on me that makes me feel warm. "Then I'll be here." I don't even bother trying to hide my relief. She'll be here. She said she'd stay. She'll be here when I wake up.

Yeah, she said that, but why don't I believe her?

I didn't even realize my breathing was picking up until Ivy sits up, planting another kiss on me. Lips brushing mine, making those voices a bit quieter, like she's putting my worries at ease. "I'll be here, promise."

It's a stupid reason to trust someone, just because they ‘promise’. How many billions of promises have been made and broken? But I can feel it in the way Ivy kisses me, an how she’s lookin’ at me. Guess that makes me stupid. If Ivy says she'll be here, then I believe her. That makes it easier to drift off to sleep—the first peaceful night's sleep I've known in a long while.

#i have too many stories #fanfiction is life #original character #alternate universe #x men apocalypse #warren worthington iii #X-men angel #archangel x men #warren Worthington iii x original female character #smut #pov first person #british character #warren worthington smut #warren worthington imagine #warren worthington the third #one shot #warren is angsty #church smut #going to hell for this

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ghostlampsmylove · 1 year

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I’ll dance with you forever

for @locklyle-week day 7: free day

Note: Okey, this is my first fic, so sorry in advance. Also, my first language is not English so sorry for any spelling mistakes.

Summary: In here Lockwood and Lucy dance and talk about their past.

It was a cold night in London. The wind was whistling angrily and the raindrops were crushing against the street. Long ago every adult in the city had gone to their places to protect themselves from the dangers of the night. Only the agents were out, fighting for their lives or going home after a case.

It was four am when three exhausted figures stumbled into 35 Portland Row.

“Luce come on, it wasn’t your fault” Lockwood said tired of repeating himself. They had been discussing this since they sealed the source, and all he wanted was to go to bed.

“It could have happened to anyone”

“You are right” Lucy exclaims desperately. “Except it was my fault”

George, who was behind them closing the door, rolled his eyes. “I’m with Lockwood in this one, you were just doing your job”.

“Lockwood, you almost got killed because of me” Lucy said, getting her working belt off.

“No, I wasn’t. Lockwood told me to look out for any visitors while you both looked for the source and I got distracted”.

“It is!” Lucy cries. “But seeing a fucking visitor over you is also part of ‘looking out’!” She had heard whispers on the contrary way where Lockwood was. She thought it was the visitor, only to then look back and see the ghost over him.

“Focusing your attention on noises when you are a listener it’s what I call ‘look out for visitors’” Lockwood said, hanging his coat.

“If it weren’t for George you would have been ghost touched!”

“The noises you were hearing could also have been a visitor trying to get to us, he played a trick on you that no one could have guessed” Lockwood replied.

“But I wasn't, Luce!” Lockwood said facing her. “The source it’s contained, the client paid us, and now we are home. The case is over!”

George decided it was the moment to intercept before things escalated and their neighbours started complaining about the shouting. “We are all tired, so why don’t we leave it and go to sleep?”

Lucy sighed and went upstairs to her attic room, anyway, she wasn’t in the mood of talking.

She didn’t notice, tho, how Lockwood had watched her as she made her way through the stairs, his face full of concern, eyebrows scrunched together.

George on the other hand did notice.

“She’ll be okay”

“I know. I just don’t get why she is so hard on herself”

“I don’t know about that, but I know another person who is hard on himself”

Lockwood turned to look at him. “Who?”

George (who had been fulminating him with his eyes) sighed and said “Good night mate”

It was the day after the case, and the agency had no work. The storm from the day before had stopped, but it was said that soon it would begin again. Grey clouds covered the sky and the streets shined because of the water in them.

George was off to the archives, while Lucy and Lockwood had decided to stay home.

They both were in the living room: Lockwood reading his gossip magazine while Lucy read a crime novel. The fireplace occasionally made the sound of burning wood.

From time to time, Lockwood shot little glances at Lucy, she was clearly still upset about yesterday.

It was almost half past six when they both heard a thunder through the sky. The next second it was furiously raining.

Lucy and Lockwood had looked up from their readings to look through the window at the pouring rain.

“I love when it rains” Lucy said after a moment, staring outside. “You know… me and my co-workers at Jacob’s used to cuddle up together when it rained” She had a nostalgic look on her face, not quite sad, but as if she was talking about something that used to warm her. “We would eat biscuits and drink tea, as we watched the storm through the windows before we started the hunting”.

Lockwood looks at her, noticing how her eyes shine at the memory. “That sounds nice”.

“I do think you did nothing wrong… but I know what you mean” Long ago he had lost his sister, and he would always blame himself, for not being faster or smarter or anything that would have helped her.

“It was” She hasn’t taken her eyes off the window, the blue light from outside lighting her face, deep in thought. “I’m sorry about yesterday's case. I know you think I did nothing wrong, but I’m scared of losing someone because of me again” Especially losing you, she thought, but she didn’t have the nerve of saying it out loud.

They stayed in silence for a moment, watching the water smash itself against the glass.

They were lost in memories of the past, remembering moments in which the rain had been present, immortal witness. Not all of the memories were sad.

“I… we…” Lockwood paused, gathering his thoughts. He wanted to share something, but he wasn’t used to talking about his past. “Jessica and I used to dance together in here when it rained”

Lucy looked at him, with a soft expression on her face. “Really?”

“Yeah” He thinks for a moment. “I think we did it to cheer each other up. After my parents' death we had lost our love for rain, it kept us in here, alone with our thoughts” A small smile appeared on his face. “So one of those rainy days Jessica came to me and asked me if I wanted to dance”

“That’s sweet”

He nodded in agreement. “We came here, to the living room, and started to dance, without music, just the sound of the rain” Then he properly smiled, he just had an occurrence. “Why don’t we dance?”

“Now?”

“Why not?” He gets up and offers her a hand. “I think we both need it”

She smiles slowly, taking his hand while getting up.

Lockwood puts his left hand on her waist while he grabs her left hand with his right. Lucy lays her other hand on his back.

They gave each other little shy smiles, and then they started.

They went slowly, circling the living room. There was something peaceful and grounding about dancing like that, without music, just the other and the rain. It felt personal, like a secret.

Lockwood began to spin Lucy casually. Every time he did this, he watched her with eyes full of adoration. Then, they grabbed both their hands, dancing more freely.

They moved through all the living room, smiling, teasing and laughing together, forgetting about their cruel past for a while, letting them just be teenagers for a moment.

Finally, they opted for a slow dance, tired of all the spinning. Lucy had both her hands over Lockwood’s neck, head resting on his chest, while he laid his hands on her back.

“Thanks” Lucy said.

“For?”

“The dance”

“It’s nothing, Luce”

“Still, you could be reading your magazines or doing rapier practice”

They kept dancing in silence, supporting each other like they always did.

“Believe me” Lockwood said. “Dancing with you is a lot better than doing any of those things” Because you always make me feel better. Because when I feel like breaking down you are always there to support me.

This is how George found them, dancing without music in the living room, with smiles bigger than any difficulty they had in the past.

#locklyle week 2023 #day 7 #locklyle week #locklyle #anthony lockwood #lucy carlyle #george karim #george cubbins #hurt comfort #i think so #fluff #?#how do i tag lol

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queerscout · 1 year

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Over the summer, I went to Giverny, France. Giverny is most known for being home to the impressionist artist Claude Monet for the later half of his life. The gardens he built there were where he painted his hundreds of famous water lily paintings, and so many other works that are seen and referenced around the world.

The gardens were beautiful, but were very busy and did not take long to see. So I decided to spend some time wandering the town. At the edge of the town is a small church and I decided to go see the churchyard. It’s interesting to see how different grave traditions are in France, especially at older cemeteries, versus the US, and I appreciate the care and maintenance into giving life to memories. On the walk up, there was a memorial to a group of men from Royal Air Force whose plane went down during WWII. The memorial even had a propeller from their plane.

As I was walking through the churchyard I forgot about that and was surprised and a little confused when I saw Union Jacks. I just came from London during the Queen’s Jubilee so I had seen more than enough of them and was actually a little annoyed until I saw the front of the grave.

There was a collective grave for the seven airmen. Decorated with flags for their country and a vase of poppies. And as I stood there and saw all the stones on the grave and thought about how this town of 500 people has cared for the grave of a group of foreigners who crashed in their countryside for nearly a century and how thousands of visitors over the years have seen the grave and taken the memory with them I just about cried.

Every so often I think about it again. The attention that goes to maintaining the memories of these strangers and their role in the war is humbling. They may have never completed their mission, but their memories are bringing people together decades later.

#People are good #giverny #personal

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publicdomainbooks · 2 years

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XIX. MONTGOMERY’S “BANK HOLIDAY.”

When this was accomplished, and we had washed and eaten, Montgomery and I went into my little room and seriously discussed our position for the first time. It was then near midnight. He was almost sober, but greatly disturbed in his mind. He had been strangely under the influence of Moreau’s personality: I do not think it had ever occurred to him that Moreau could die. This disaster was the sudden collapse of the habits that had become part of his nature in the ten or more monotonous years he had spent on the island. He talked vaguely, answered my questions crookedly, wandered into general questions.

“This silly ass of a world,” he said; “what a muddle it all is! I haven’t had any life. I wonder when it’s going to begin. Sixteen years being bullied by nurses and schoolmasters at their own sweet will; five in London grinding hard at medicine, bad food, shabby lodgings, shabby clothes, shabby vice, a blunder,—I didn’t know any better,—and hustled off to this beastly island. Ten years here! What’s it all for, Prendick? Are we bubbles blown by a baby?”

It was hard to deal with such ravings. “The thing we have to think of now,” said I, “is how to get away from this island.”

“What’s the good of getting away? I’m an outcast. Where am I to join on? It’s all very well for you, Prendick. Poor old Moreau! We can’t leave him here to have his bones picked. As it is—And besides, what will become of the decent part of the Beast Folk?”

“Well,” said I, “that will do to-morrow. I’ve been thinking we might make the brushwood into a pyre and burn his body—and those other things. Then what will happen with the Beast Folk?”

“I don’t know. I suppose those that were made of beasts of prey will make silly asses of themselves sooner or later. We can’t massacre the lot—can we? I suppose that’s what your humanity would suggest? But they’ll change. They are sure to change.”

He talked thus inconclusively until at last I felt my temper going.

“Damnation!” he exclaimed at some petulance of mine; “can’t you see I’m in a worse hole than you are?” And he got up, and went for the brandy. “Drink!” he said returning, “you logic-chopping, chalky-faced saint of an atheist, drink!”

“Not I,” said I, and sat grimly watching his face under the yellow paraffine flare, as he drank himself into a garrulous misery.

I have a memory of infinite tedium. He wandered into a maudlin defence of the Beast People and of M’ling. M’ling, he said, was the only thing that had ever really cared for him. And suddenly an idea came to him.

“I’m damned!” said he, staggering to his feet and clutching the brandy bottle.

By some flash of intuition I knew what it was he intended. “You don’t give drink to that beast!” I said, rising and facing him.

“Beast!” said he. “You’re the beast. He takes his liquor like a Christian. Come out of the way, Prendick!”

“For God’s sake,” said I.

“Get—out of the way!” he roared, and suddenly whipped out his revolver.

“Very well,” said I, and stood aside, half-minded to fall upon him as he put his hand upon the latch, but deterred by the thought of my useless arm. “You’ve made a beast of yourself,—to the beasts you may go.”

He flung the doorway open, and stood half facing me between the yellow lamp-light and the pallid glare of the moon; his eye-sockets were blotches of black under his stubbly eyebrows.

“You’re a solemn prig, Prendick, a silly ass! You’re always fearing and fancying. We’re on the edge of things. I’m bound to cut my throat to-morrow. I’m going to have a damned Bank Holiday to-night.” He turned and went out into the moonlight. “M’ling!” he cried; “M’ling, old friend!”

Three dim creatures in the silvery light came along the edge of the wan beach,—one a white-wrapped creature, the other two blotches of blackness following it. They halted, staring. Then I saw M’ling’s hunched shoulders as he came round the corner of the house.

“Drink!” cried Montgomery, “drink, you brutes! Drink and be men! Damme, I’m the cleverest. Moreau forgot this; this is the last touch. Drink, I tell you!” And waving the bottle in his hand he started off at a kind of quick trot to the westward, M’ling ranging himself between him and the three dim creatures who followed.

I went to the doorway. They were already indistinct in the mist of the moonlight before Montgomery halted. I saw him administer a dose of the raw brandy to M’ling, and saw the five figures melt into one vague patch.

“Sing!” I heard Montgomery shout,—“sing all together, ‘Confound old Prendick!’ That’s right; now again, ‘Confound old Prendick!’”

The black group broke up into five separate figures, and wound slowly away from me along the band of shining beach. Each went howling at his own sweet will, yelping insults at me, or giving whatever other vent this new inspiration of brandy demanded. Presently I heard Montgomery’s voice shouting, “Right turn!” and they passed with their shouts and howls into the blackness of the landward trees. Slowly, very slowly, they receded into silence.

The peaceful splendour of the night healed again. The moon was now past the meridian and travelling down the west. It was at its full, and very bright riding through the empty blue sky. The shadow of the wall lay, a yard wide and of inky blackness, at my feet. The eastward sea was a featureless grey, dark and mysterious; and between the sea and the shadow the grey sands (of volcanic glass and crystals) flashed and shone like a beach of diamonds. Behind me the paraffine lamp flared hot and ruddy.

Then I shut the door, locked it, and went into the enclosure where Moreau lay beside his latest victims,—the staghounds and the llama and some other wretched brutes,—with his massive face calm even after his terrible death, and with the hard eyes open, staring at the dead white moon above. I sat down upon the edge of the sink, and with my eyes upon that ghastly pile of silvery light and ominous shadows began to turn over my plans. In the morning I would gather some provisions in the dingey, and after setting fire to the pyre before me, push out into the desolation of the high sea once more. I felt that for Montgomery there was no help; that he was, in truth, half akin to these Beast Folk, unfitted for human kindred.

I do not know how long I sat there scheming. It must have been an hour or so. Then my planning was interrupted by the return of Montgomery to my neighbourhood. I heard a yelling from many throats, a tumult of exultant cries passing down towards the beach, whooping and howling, and excited shrieks that seemed to come to a stop near the water’s edge. The riot rose and fell; I heard heavy blows and the splintering smash of wood, but it did not trouble me then. A discordant chanting began.

My thoughts went back to my means of escape. I got up, brought the lamp, and went into a shed to look at some kegs I had seen there. Then I became interested in the contents of some biscuit-tins, and opened one. I saw something out of the tail of my eye,—a red figure,—and turned sharply.

Behind me lay the yard, vividly black-and-white in the moonlight, and the pile of wood and faggots on which Moreau and his mutilated victims lay, one over another. They seemed to be gripping one another in one last revengeful grapple. His wounds gaped, black as night, and the blood that had dripped lay in black patches upon the sand. Then I saw, without understanding, the cause of my phantom,—a ruddy glow that came and danced and went upon the wall opposite. I misinterpreted this, fancied it was a reflection of my flickering lamp, and turned again to the stores in the shed. I went on rummaging among them, as well as a one-armed man could, finding this convenient thing and that, and putting them aside for to-morrow’s launch. My movements were slow, and the time passed quickly. Insensibly the daylight crept upon me.

The chanting died down, giving place to a clamour; then it began again, and suddenly broke into a tumult. I heard cries of, “More! more!” a sound like quarrelling, and a sudden wild shriek. The quality of the sounds changed so greatly that it arrested my attention. I went out into the yard and listened. Then cutting like a knife across the confusion came the crack of a revolver.

I rushed at once through my room to the little doorway. As I did so I heard some of the packing-cases behind me go sliding down and smash together with a clatter of glass on the floor of the shed. But I did not heed these. I flung the door open and looked out.

Up the beach by the boathouse a bonfire was burning, raining up sparks into the indistinctness of the dawn. Around this struggled a mass of black figures. I heard Montgomery call my name. I began to run at once towards this fire, revolver in hand. I saw the pink tongue of Montgomery’s pistol lick out once, close to the ground. He was down. I shouted with all my strength and fired into the air. I heard some one cry, “The Master!” The knotted black struggle broke into scattering units, the fire leapt and sank down. The crowd of Beast People fled in sudden panic before me, up the beach. In my excitement I fired at their retreating backs as they disappeared among the bushes. Then I turned to the black heaps upon the ground.

Montgomery lay on his back, with the hairy-grey Beast-man sprawling across his body. The brute was dead, but still gripping Montgomery’s throat with its curving claws. Near by lay M’ling on his face and quite still, his neck bitten open and the upper part of the smashed brandy-bottle in his hand. Two other figures lay near the fire,—the one motionless, the other groaning fitfully, every now and then raising its head slowly, then dropping it again.

I caught hold of the grey man and pulled him off Montgomery’s body; his claws drew down the torn coat reluctantly as I dragged him away. Montgomery was dark in the face and scarcely breathing. I splashed sea-water on his face and pillowed his head on my rolled-up coat. M’ling was dead. The wounded creature by the fire—it was a Wolf-brute with a bearded grey face—lay, I found, with the fore part of its body upon the still glowing timber. The wretched thing was injured so dreadfully that in mercy I blew its brains out at once. The other brute was one of the Bull-men swathed in white. He too was dead. The rest of the Beast People had vanished from the beach.

I went to Montgomery again and knelt beside him, cursing my ignorance of medicine. The fire beside me had sunk down, and only charred beams of timber glowing at the central ends and mixed with a grey ash of brushwood remained. I wondered casually where Montgomery had got his wood. Then I saw that the dawn was upon us. The sky had grown brighter, the setting moon was becoming pale and opaque in the luminous blue of the day. The sky to the eastward was rimmed with red.

Suddenly I heard a thud and a hissing behind me, and, looking round, sprang to my feet with a cry of horror. Against the warm dawn great tumultuous masses of black smoke were boiling up out of the enclosure, and through their stormy darkness shot flickering threads of blood-red flame. Then the thatched roof caught. I saw the curving charge of the flames across the sloping straw. A spurt of fire jetted from the window of my room.

I knew at once what had happened. I remembered the crash I had heard. When I had rushed out to Montgomery’s assistance, I had overturned the lamp.

The hopelessness of saving any of the contents of the enclosure stared me in the face. My mind came back to my plan of flight, and turning swiftly I looked to see where the two boats lay upon the beach. They were gone! Two axes lay upon the sands beside me; chips and splinters were scattered broadcast, and the ashes of the bonfire were blackening and smoking under the dawn. Montgomery had burnt the boats to revenge himself upon me and prevent our return to mankind!

A sudden convulsion of rage shook me. I was almost moved to batter his foolish head in, as he lay there helpless at my feet. Then suddenly his hand moved, so feebly, so pitifully, that my wrath vanished. He groaned, and opened his eyes for a minute. I knelt down beside him and raised his head. He opened his eyes again, staring silently at the dawn, and then they met mine. The lids fell.

“Sorry,” he said presently, with an effort. He seemed trying to think. “The last,” he murmured, “the last of this silly universe. What a mess—”

I listened. His head fell helplessly to one side. I thought some drink might revive him; but there was neither drink nor vessel in which to bring drink at hand. He seemed suddenly heavier. My heart went cold. I bent down to his face, put my hand through the rent in his blouse. He was dead; and even as he died a line of white heat, the limb of the sun, rose eastward beyond the projection of the bay, splashing its radiance across the sky and turning the dark sea into a weltering tumult of dazzling light. It fell like a glory upon his death-shrunken face.

I let his head fall gently upon the rough pillow I had made for him, and stood up. Before me was the glittering desolation of the sea, the awful solitude upon which I had already suffered so much; behind me the island, hushed under the dawn, its Beast People silent and unseen. The enclosure, with all its provisions and ammunition, burnt noisily, with sudden gusts of flame, a fitful crackling, and now and then a crash. The heavy smoke drove up the beach away from me, rolling low over the distant tree-tops towards the huts in the ravine. Beside me were the charred vestiges of the boats and these five dead bodies.

Then out of the bushes came three Beast People, with hunched shoulders, protruding heads, misshapen hands awkwardly held, and inquisitive, unfriendly eyes and advanced towards me with hesitating gestures.

#the island of doctor moreau

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hogwartsmarvelmommy · 3 years

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Empty Mugs and Unexpected Hugs (H.O) 🔥

Word count: 3.3K

Enemies to lovers

(HarrisonOsterfeildxReader)

Warnings: Smut (fingering, unprotected sex *Wrap it up*) cussing, that’s probably it..

🌼🌸 MASTERLIST 🌸🌼

With Tom came Harrison, you knew that. What you didn't know was when you had agreed to a roommate situation with Tom, you were also agreeing to one with Haz. “Tom, you said ‘would you like to live with me.’ not ‘me and Haz’” you told him as you stared at the blonde boy who was carrying box after box. He opted to do this shirtless, despite the cold London breeze. A sheen layer of sweat glistened on his overly defined chest, and you hated the way you longed to reach out and touch him.

“I figured you just knew?” Tom said coyly rubbing the back of his neck as he saw the way you stared down his best friend. He wasn't blind, he knew the hatred you supposedly had towards Haz was something with much deeper roots, but anytime he tried to figure it out, you would deflect and change the subject.

“I'm not doing either of your dishes,” you said loudly enough to catch Harrison's attention.

“Wouldn't expect you to, princess,” he winked at you. With a loud groan, and a dramatic flip of your hair, you proceed to your empty room to unpack your things.

Living with Tom and Harrison was way more entertaining than you had ever thought possible. Most nights were spent at the dining room table with one to many empty beer bottles laid out in front of you, while you laughed and joked about things that were probably not funny. Of course there were also the quiet days when Tom was away filming with Haz in tow, and on those days you would usually have the company of one or both of the twins.

“You should just admit you love him,” Sam said suddenly while you were taking a sip of your beer, causing you to spit your drink all over the table.

“Sammy!” You cried out the sting of beer in your nostrils. “I do not,”

“Y/N, It's written all over your face,” Harry argued. They were supposed to be on your side, you had been friends with the twins for years, the only reason you even knew Tom, was because of Sam and Harry..

“I do not love Harrison,” You told them, but even you were unconvinced by your own words.

It was late when you heard the front door to the flat open. The twins had left a few hours prior, Tom was in the states, and Harrison was with him, so who was coming into the apartment?

You were in just a shirt, an old one of Harrison's you had taken a while back, and a pair of cheeky underwear. Tip toeing to your bedroom door and grabbing a golf club from your bag, you proceeded to sneak down the hallway to the large living area where the front door was. Your heart was pounding with the thought of having to defend the place against an intruder, in just your underwear nonetheless. You saw a shadow, next to the couch, and raised the club ready to attack. As soon as you went for it, the lamp flicked on and Harrison saw you charging towards him with a golf club. Luckily he had fast reflexes, catching the club in one hand and your quickly moving body in the other. “Christ Y/N. What are you doing?” he asked, holding your body close to his. You felt your muscles relax into him, thankful he was in fact not an intruder, and you wouldn't have to explain why there was an intruder beaten and bloody by your hand to the authorities.

“I thought you were a robber,” You admitted coyly, stepping back a bit to look at him. His piercing blue eyes looked deep into yours, a small smile on his lips as his eyes trailed down your overly exposed body.

“So you would charge at an intruder with a bright pink putter, in just your underwear?” he asked you. “Also is that my shirt?” you could feel your cheeks heat up. You pushed away from his body with a scoff and turned to go back to your room, already done with him, but his hand caught your wrist, pulling your body back into his arms. His grip was tight as he held your body close to his. Something was off. Something was wrong. This was abnormal, Haz without Tom, and showing you any sort of affection.

“Hazzy, why are you home?” You asked, finally wrapping your arms around his waist, accepting the unexpected hug that you usually would not share with Him.

“Family stuff, I've been back for a few days. Just been with my mom,” He said, still holding you. You instinctively hug him tighter, getting the feeling that something bad had happened.

“You okay?” You asked him quietly. To which he just hummed into your head, still holding you.

“Better now,” He whispers. You're so confused, and exposed. You hear the twins' voices in the back of your head. ‘Just admit it, you love him.’ Was that what you had been feeling for months on end? Is that the feeling you were feeling now, making your stomach turn? “I missed you,” He whispers and you swear you could feel him press a kiss against the top of your head. It's too much, so suddenly.

“I need to..” you push your body away, scrambling to find any words to get you away, your mind is clouded by thoughts and feelings. “Pants,” You finally let out, leaving Harrison in the living room, stunned at how flustered you had become in the matter of a millisecond.

As soon as you're back in your room, you let out a groan, you're so confused. He missed you? You? y/n? Why would he miss you? All the two of you did was bicker, bicker and flirt. Flirt. Because you did in fact have feelings for Harrison. Feelings that were not not supposed to be had towards him..

“Y/N? Can I come in?” you haven't even put on pants yet when his voice calls to you through the closed door.

“Sure,” You call out to him, desperately searching your floor for the discarded sweats you had had on a few hours before. Nowhere, great. He cleared his throat from behind you, while you were bent over, ass on full display. Fully aware now, of how exposed you are you decide to just crawl under your blanket on your bed.

“Did I do something?” He asked, concern plastered all over his face.

“What? No, why would you think-”

“You just ran from me, like literally ran, after trying to attack me with a golf club,” He points out, making you cringe.

“I- Uh, yeah. I'm sorry about nearly attacking you,” You mumble, a little more embarrassed than you'd like to admit.

“So why'd you run away?” he pondered, watching you closely as you struggled to find your words. Unbeknownst to you Harrison was also having an internal crisis. You were Y/N. Someone Tom considered a little sister, Harry and Sam's best friend, but he couldn't help the way that you made him smile every time you couldn't open a jar, and would defeatedly ask him for help after way too long of attempting it yourself. Or the way you would curse at the line of dirt that you could never seem to sweep into the dustpan. The way you would always make a cup of tea before finishing the last, leaving so many mugs with a single drink all over the place, something that would drive any other person crazy, but he just found it endearing, and was sure if it ever stopped, he would miss it.

“You said you missed me,” You finally managed to say, making a smile spread over Harrison's lips. He took a chance, stepping into your room, towards where you were sitting on the bed, and when you didn't object, he crossed the empty space sitting right next to you.

“I did miss you,” He said, grabbing your hand and squeezing it gently.

“We fight, and argue,” You started, obviously ready to explain all the reasons he shouldn't have missed you.

“And we flirt, and share memories, and glances. You drive me nuts y/n. But the second I step out that door, I miss it all. The obnoxious quirks, the way you can't pronounce some things correctly, no matter how often I correct you. I miss hearing you call out goodnight to me in the nighttime, and how you always wish me to have sweet dreams. I don't know when, or why it happened, but yeah. When I'm gone I miss you,” you feel a tear escape your eye at his confession, not sure exactly what to say or think for that matter. His finger caresses your cheek wiping the tear from your face.

“Haz?” You whisper.

“Yes?” He asks, full attention turned to you.

“I miss you when you're gone too,” You finally admit, a weight lifting from your chest. He's thankful to know his feelings aren't completely one sided. Your admission of missing him is at least enough to confirm that you don't actually hate him. “Can I be honest?” You ask, catching even yourself off guard.

“Please,” He says, waiting for you to say whatever you had to say.

“I- '' You take a deep breath, bracing yourself for rejection and embarrassment, but if you wait much longer, you'll never say what you have to. “I get so irritated with you, because everything you do just draws me in. I can't not stare, or listen. It drives me nuts, to be so flustered by everything that you do, and it's the simple things Haz, the way you insist on sitting on the left side of the couch, or how you always make sure I've eaten after a long day. The way you constantly clean up my mugs that I leave everywhere, and you have never once said a thing about them, even if you have had every right to,” you don't even want to look at him, afraid he will be appalled, but you have to say it. “I’m pretty sure I've managed to fall in love with you, while trying desperately to hate you,” you whisper.

That's enough of a confirmation for Harrison, that you're on the same page. With his hand gently on your face, pulling your chin up towards him, he leans in, pressing his lips ever so gently against yours. And the electricity that you both feel from the slightest touch? Fucking magic.

“I tried so hard not to love you,” He whispers. You look up at him through your lashes, his eyes gazing directly into yours, and it's like you're looking at the sky on a clear summer day. “And dear God did I fail,” he whispers, making you melt. He leans back down, this time kissing you with something so much more. It's meaningful, it's beautiful, it's everything you have wanted without realizing it. Your hands are against his chest, feeling each thud of his heart, while his are cupping your face. He kisses you like his life depends on it, and in that moment it surely feels like it does. He deepens the kiss, his tongue making its appearance in your mouth. It's everything and more. You wrap your arms around his neck, wanting to extend this moment forever, and his slip down to your waist, pulling you closer. He pulls away, and a soft whine escapes your lips.

“Tell me to stop,” He whispers, as he caresses your cheek. Eyes searching your face, making sure he's not crossing a line. You lean into his hand, closing your eyes and letting a soft humm leave your lips. With no objection from you, he reconnects your lips for a third time tonight. This time it's hot, so so hot. You can feel the ache forming in your stomach as his lips move from yours to your neck. You need him, you have to have him, just a little taste and you realize you have been starving. With a swift motion you're straddling him now, leaning down into him instead of leaning up, giving him so much more access to your neck and jaw, and then he remembers an unanswered question from before.

“This is my shirt,” He says, this time it's not a question, just a statement.

“Yeah,” You giggle. His eyebrows raise a bit as he remembers all the shirts that have seemingly disappeared over the last few months.

“Do you have others?” He asks. You feel like you have been caught red handed, nowhere to go or hide.

“I- Yes,” You admit. “I like to sleep in them,”

“In just your underwear?” He asks, to which you shyly nod. He throws his head back and lets out a dramatic sigh. He's done for, “That is so fucking hot,” he mutters before leaning back in taking your bottom lip between his and sucking it slightly. He feels his pants tighten as your hips grind into him instinctively, and you're so wet and warm he can practically feel it through his jeans.

“Hazzy,” you moan as he pushes you down onto him, providing a friction you desperately need, even though it's not what you want.

“What is it?” He asks you, as he does it a second time. Your head falls down onto his shoulder, and you don't know if you can even express what it is you want.

“Can you..” You trail off.

“Can i?” he asks, needing to hear you say it out loud.

“Touch me?” The words are like music to his ears, flipping you onto your back as he slips his hand between your bodies, running his fingers along the damp fabric of your ruined panties. The fact that you're this wet from just kissing is driving him crazy. He slips his hand into your panties, finally sliding his long digits along your slit. One thing about Harrison that drove you absolutely crazy was his hands, because dear god were they perfect, his long fingers and veiny tops, you'd be lying if you said you had never gotten off imagining his fingers in the place of yours, and now, actually having the real thing, you felt like you were flying.

As he slid his finger inside you, you let out a gasp, his being so much bigger than your own, and it being way too long since you had been with anyone.

“Say the word and I'll stop,” He says, as he looks at your face twisted in pleasure, but he can't tell that it's not pain, he's never seen you like this before. This is a whole new territory.

“Please.. Please don't,” You nearly beg as your hips buck against his hand. The smirk that replaces the concern on his face is unbelievably hot, his pupils are blown with lust and you're sure yours are as well. He thrusts his one finger in and out grazing against your spot each and every time, his palm rubbing your clit as he does so. You're going to lose it, this is so much better than you could have ever imagined. He pulls his finger out, causing a whine from you, which quickly turns to a gasp as he replaces it with two. If you're falling apart to his fingers you're not sure how you'll be able to handle his cock.

“Hazzy,” You moan out, right on the brink of losing it.

“Come on my fingers princess,” He coos, and that is precisely what you do, your whole body shakes in pleasure, and your toes curl, and he keeps going, as your walls squeeze tightly around his fingers.

Once your legs finally stop shaking he pulls his hand away, and although that was probably the most powerful orgasm you had ever had, it is not nearly enough. “Haz.” You say quietly as he peppers kisses on your neck.

“Hmm?” He hums.

“Need more, need you,” you say, and his head peaks up, a smile on his face, a bit in excitement, a bit in surprise.

“You sure?” he asks, to which you respond by kissing him, you nibble at his bottom lip, and he lets out a moan. You reach down unbuttoning his jeans and sliding his zipper down, and he assists you in pulling them down. You can clearly see his length through his boxers, his cock, rock hard and leaking on to his boxers, it's flattering. You let your fingers trail his length and you can feel his eyes on your hand, and you're not sure if he's worried, nervous, or excited. You slide his boxers down and his cock springs free, and you can see the violent red hue of the tip, he's begging to be touched and he hasn't even said a thing. You wrap your hand around him and he lets out a gasp at the sudden contact, you stroke your hand up and down a few times before, he pushes you back onto the bed and climbs over you. He slides his fingers in the hem of your panties and slowly drags them down your legs, before dropping them to the floor, and then takes his time lifting his shirt over his head, exposing his chest, you follow suit, and throw the shirt you had on to the ground. You're both completely naked now, no turning back, you've made it this far already.

"Y/n, baby we don't have to," he whispers against your ear.

"Hazzy, stop worrying and fuck me please," you nearly beg as you pull his lips to yours in a desperately hungry kiss.

"Christ," he mutters as he lines himself at your entrance, pushing into you at a slow, agonizing speed. Of course he's only doing this to make sure you're ok, his fingers seemed like so much to your tight pussy he's worried he's going to hurt you. But the way you moan out his name gives him full confidence that you in fact are fine. Once he's fully sure you're fine to take him, he speeds up his thrusts, finding a place that is perfect for the both of you. Your legs wrap around his waist as he pounds into you. You're not sure you're going to last long.

"Not gonna last," you moan into his lips.

"S'okay, me either," he says back. He slips his hand down, rubbing your clit strategically. You let out another loud moan before his name leaves your lips, repeatedly as you convulse around his cock, and it's only one more thrust before he completely empties himself into you.

It's a few quiet moments of your bodies laying flush against each other, enjoying the afterglow of sex. "I'm gonna clean you up," he whispers in your ear before pushing himself up and off of you. He disappears from the room for what feels like an eternity, but is back within a minute with a warm rag and a glass of water, and he then cleans you up, being gentle with how sensitive you now are.

Your eyes get heavy after everything is said and done, and you're worried he's going to disappear from your room, but he lays next to you instead. Pulling you into his arms.

"Hazzy?" You whisper after a few minutes.

"Hmm?"

"Is everything ok with your family?" You ask, getting worried this may have been a lapse in judgement on his part because of heightened emotions.

"Yes. Char decided to give us a scare and disappear for a weekend, so I came back to try and keep my mom from murdering her," he admitted with a chuckle.

"Oh," you giggled.

"Y/n?" He whispers.

"Yeah?"

"I meant it. I missed you," he says, pressing a kiss atop of your head. You smile before falling asleep in his arms. Maybe this was a mistake, maybe it would be forever. All you knew was it felt right.

#Harrison Osterfield #harrison osterfield smut #harrison osterfield imagine #hazzy #haz #haz osterfield #harrison osterfeild x reader #harrison osterfeild x reader smut #harrison osterfeild fluff

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xxblackballoonxx · 2 years

Text

Electric: Chapter 5

Have we all survived the finale? I’m still stunned. Wow. I cried at every John mention because that’s me. I'll be crying about that 50 years from now.

Modern John Shelby AU

This fic is being posted simultaneously on FanFiction.net and Ao3. Classy smut warning beginning with Chapter 5.

Chapter 4 J&Gem Chats 4 J&Gem Chats 5 Chapter 6

Electric

Chapter 5: The Armory

John had spent most of Thursday morning still fuming over Tommy’s late night demand. Part of the way the Shelby business was divided was to give each sibling autonomy over their own properties, and in turn, their daily lives. But Tommy was still president of Shelby Company Limited, and that meant being at his disposal more than John liked.

He sat on the couch with a mug of coffee, waiting for Finn to wake up. Every time he closed his eyes, the night before came back to him. Kissing Gemma for the first time, the feel of her weight on his lap in the pub, the way she touched him. The way it would’ve felt to have her naked skin against his. Damn you, Tommy.

His phone buzzed and he laughed as he answered the call.

“Uncle Charlie! It’s early for you, man. What’s going on?”

“Tell me you stayed over with the lovely girl you brought into my pub last night.”

“I would’ve, except fucking Tommy called and sent me down to City Council for some building permits bullshit. Just sent it off to London. What’d you think of her? Gemma?”

“Obviously quite a beautiful lass, John boy. But I liked that you looked happy, haven’t seen you that happy in a long time.”

“It’s feels a little mental, we only met last week, but her and I, it feels right. I barely know her and yet like I know all of her? And that she knows all of me.”

“You know what Polly would say, it’s meant to be then.”

“Hah, she probably would. Good thing she’s away, because she’d be asking a million questions and diving into my soul or something.”

“You have fun, lad. And bring Gemma ‘round The Yard again soon, I’d like to meet her.”

“I will. Talk to you later, Uncle Charlie.”

John hung up the phone and looked up to Finn who had a grin on his face.

“So that answers the question of why you’re here this morning. And how your date went with Gemma.”

“I’m taking her to The Armory tomorrow night, check out a band she wants to see for work. And I’m hoping I’ll be waking up with her Saturday morning instead of seeing your face, Finn.” John joked and moved over so Finn could flop down next to him.

“You know Arthur will probably be there, right?”

“I know, I’ll tell Gemma before. Speaking of, I told her about the band last night. Not everything, I need to do that soon.”

John spun the engraved signet ring on his pinkie, as he always did when his mind went to that place. Finn studied his face for a moment, hating the pain that the memories always brought his brother.

“You’ll find the right way to tell her. And I think she’s going to understand, she’s a good one.”

************************************************************************

Gemma sat on her couch Friday morning, writing up some work emails when her phone chimed with a text.

She grinned. Clearly, John had also been thinking about what could’ve happened the other night, if they hadn’t been interrupted by his brother’s call. She hadn’t been able to stop going back to what his hand felt like on her thigh as she sat on his lap, the way he had kissed her up against the wall, the way his skin felt under her fingers.

She also was dying to know more about The Peaky Blinders, and had resisted digging into the label’s archives for their records. John would tell her more when the time was right, but she had a feeling it went a lot further then just the band breaking up, that his hesitation was more about why. She had taken note of his pinkie ring, and so far hadn’t been able to put together the initials.

************************************************************************

“Hi, love.” John breathed out as Gemma came through her front door, somehow looking even more beautiful to him.

Gemma smiled and took in the way his tight shirt outlined his biceps and the color accentuated his eyes. He kissed her, both hands holding her face, their bodies drawn to each other.

“Hi.” Gemma giggled and reached up to adjust one of his earrings, which made him want to put her over his shoulder and take her upstairs immediately.

“How about we continue this in my car?” John said, smiling suggestively.

Gemma laughed and nodded, and he led her around the block where he’d parked, which was less traveled and a little more private. He opened the passenger door for her and then got into the driver’s side, pushing the seat back.

“Come here.” John commanded huskily.

He pulled Gemma across the console into his lap, her knees on either side of his legs. His hands went underneath her top and up her ribcage, as their lips met again. Gemma grasped the back of his hair, her breath shaky as John ran his hand over her bra and his other hand went around her back, holding her tightly to him.

He sucked gently on her neck, hitting the same spot that he’d found the last time. Trailing his hand down her stomach until it hit the waistband of her jeans and then back up and underneath her bra band, kneading her breast with his thumb. She moaned his name quietly and tilted her head further to the side. John could feel her grind into him and deepened the kiss.

“Fuck, Gem.” He groaned, and leaned his head back finally, holding her to his chest.

They sat for a moment catching their breath, John running his fingers up and down her spine.

“As much as I want to continue this, we should, you know, wait until later. Inside. In your flat.” John said as he felt Gemma laugh against him.

“Agreed. But promise me we will return to this topic in the car, at a more private location in the future.”

“Fuck yeah we will. That was hot as hell.”

John helped Gemma back into the passenger seat and started the car.

20 minutes later, John and Gemma were walking towards the entrance of The Armory, hands linked together.

“Before we go in, there’s something else I need to tell you. My brother, Arthur, owns The Armory. He may or may not be there tonight, I just wanted to give you a head’s up, so you’re not totally surprised.”

“I’d be happy to meet him, John, not a problem. So is this place really as rough as you said?” Gemma asked, looking up at the faded brick building.

“It can be, yeah. You stay close to me just in case, ok?”

Gemma nodded and they walked into a half filled bar space with a stage beyond towards the right. John directed Gemma towards a couple of seats at the end of the bar and felt a hand on his shoulder.

“John boy! Didn’t know you’d be here tonight!” Arthur said loudly over the din.

“Hi, Arthur.” John replied, clapping his shoulder back.

“And who is this pretty young lady?” Arthur asked, smiling as he caught Gemma watching them with amusement.

“This is Gemma. Gemma, this is my brother Arthur.”

“And you two are?” Arthur asked, not so subtly.

“Here to see the bands tonight, I work for a record label. Nice to meet you Arthur.” Gemma jumped in, not wanting to put pressure on John.

“And we’re also together.” John said, wrapping his arm around Gemma’s shoulder, leaning against her bar stool. She responded by putting her arm around his waist.

Arthur blinked for a moment and then smiled, which turned into a grin.

“I’m happy for you, John. Can’t wait to talk to you more, Gemma, at a quieter time. This place is pretty loud, innit?”

Gemma nodded and smiled back, laughing as Arthur took a huge swig of his drink and then went off towards the stage. She felt John run his hand up down her arm a few times, and realized he had just made a pretty huge statement to his oldest brother.

“Together, huh?” She said, looking up at John.

“I’m in, if you’re in, love.” He responded, his eyes melting into her.

Damn, he is so beautiful. And hot. Beautiful and hot. Gemma thought to herself, as she momentarily forgot to speak.

“I’m in. For all of it.” She said and John smiled before leaning down to kiss her.

************************************************************************

After the final band’s set, John wrapped Gemma under his arm and made his way through the heavy crowd. Gemma was glad that he was with her. She wouldn’t have been necessarily afraid there by herself, but she could sense how one moment could send the crowd into a frenzy. Some places were just like that.

The two drove in comfortable silence back to Gemma’s flat. John kept his hand on Gemma’s leg for most of the ride, and she was starting to become addicted to the way his hands felt on her. She had never fallen this hard or this fast for anyone and she thought she would’ve felt unhinged by the feeling, a free fall. Instead, it felt like she had found a steady foothold, a safe place in John. Factor in the passion between them and how easily they’d clicked, and she recognized how special the situation was.

John found a parking spot in front of Gemma’s building and opened her car door, taking her hand. Gemma unlocked the front door as quickly as possible, and then led John up the stairs to her flat. He reached down to kiss the side of her neck as she struggled to get the key in the lock, fumbling a bit before the door opened.

“Welcome to my flat.” Gemma said as John closed the door and then put his arms around her waist from behind.

“I like it, none of my brothers here to interrupt us.” John mumbled into her hair.

He turned Gemma around to face him and the tension that had been building all night, really all week, took over. He leaned down and picked her up, wrapping her legs around his waist as he stood up. Gemma threw her arms around his shoulders and kissed him hungrily as he walked towards the darkened doorway of her bedroom.

He held her against the wall, his hips propping her up as he pulled her shirt up over her head and tossed it on the floor. He watched her chest rise and fall with heavy breaths as she leaned back, giving him space to take off his shirt as well. Her hands met his chest and then ran down his sides. A feeling rose inside him that had been muted for years. The desire of wanting someone just as much as they want you.

John pulled Gemma against him once more and walked backwards towards the bed, unhooking her bra, pulling the straps down one at a time. She flung it off to the side as he sat down and she stood between his legs. He placed his mouth over one of her nipples, sucking lightly as he unbuttoned her jeans. Gemma rested a hand on the side of his head, running a finger over his earrings and she sighed with pleasure.

John pulled away for a moment to pull off her jeans and shoes, just leaving her in her underwear, while Gemma went to unbutton his jeans. He kicked off own shoes and then jeans before he flipped her around onto the bed, keeping their bodies close.

“I want all of you, darlin’.” He whispered in her ear, as her hand slid into his boxers.

“And I want all of you.” She whispered back, her hand making contact with his hard shaft.

He moaned her name and got rid of his boxers before pulling down her underwear. He purposely dragged himself slowly back up her body.

“John, please.” Gemma said, the torture becoming too much.

“What do you need, love?” He smirked, kissing his way up her torso.

“You.” She ordered.

John looked into her lust filled eyes, pushed her legs a little wider, and then slowly entered her.

“Fuck, Gem, you are so tight.” He muttered against her lips.

“Not to inflate that ego anymore, J, but you aren’t exactly small. Not that I mind.” Gemma responded, making John lose concentration and laugh.

After a moment, he thrust into her again and locked their hands above Gemma’s head as she pulled her knees up and tight around his hips. The rhythm intensified as he sank deeper into her every time, her hands on his lower back, pulling him in impossibly closer.

She bit into his neck as she felt herself coming closer to finishing, the sounds of John’s ragged breathing in her ear. He could feel her tightening around him and she moaned his name as her back arched. He thrust in once more, as deeply as he could go, and felt himself release into her, dropping his head on her chest. She ran her fingers over the shaved part of his head as he caught his breath.

“That was …” Gemma started but faltering to find the words.

“I’m going with bloody fucking incredible.” John murmured, turning his head and linking her free hand with his.

“I was going to say the greatest, but your description really puts the emphasis on fucking, so perhaps more descriptive?”

John burst out laughing and rolled over onto his side, pulling Gemma tightly against him, so they faced each other.

“One of many things I like about you, Gems, you make me laugh.” John commented as he swept Gemma’s hair over her shoulder.

“For me, it’s your accent. Really you could do or say anything speaking like you do, and I would go with it.” Gemma was being funny but also totally serious.

“So, like …” John began, putting his mouth next to her ear, “if I said, ‘let’s do it again, love’, you’d agree?” John purposely dragged out the way he spoke and judging by the blush he could see rising on her cheek, it was working.

“I certainly wouldn’t say no. You know, once you’re ready.” Gemma responded biting her lip to hide a huge smile.

“I’m ready to start with you now, sweetheart.” John said as pulled up the blanket and started kissing her collarbone.

Gemma shrieked and started laughing as John’s large hand gripped her waist and held in her place.

“Good thing I’m staying the night, yeah?” John asked, looking up at her, eyes darkened again with desire.

“The best thing.” Gemma responded and laughed again at his grin before he went back to work.

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comfortwriting · 3 years

Text

Papa Don’t Preach - F.W

Fred Weasley x Reader, inspired by the song ‘Papa Don’t Preach’ by Madonna.

About: the reader discovers that she is carrying her boyfriends baby, the two of them decide to keep it; but the storm gets heavier when she breaks the news to her father.

Theme: fluff and angst

Warnings: teen pregnancy, mention of abortion, swearing.

Throwing up into the toilet, moaning Myrtle giggled at you and sat on the window ledge. “That’s the third time this month”

You wiped your mouth with your sleeve and got up off your knees, flushing the loo you unlocked the door and washed your hands at the sink. “I’m aware Myrtle.” You answered, glaring at her before walking out.

You rushed into the common room, luckily the only people in there were Fred and George. They were messing around pretending to duel with their wands, little sparks hissing out the end.

“Have you seen my bag?” you asked, searching around the room.

The boys couldn’t hear you over their loud laughter, you stood there and put your hand on your hip, glaring at your boyfriend. “Fred, please. This is important.”

Fred and George stopped messing around and spun on their heels.

“You okay love?” Fred asked, walking over and putting his arm around you.

You shook your head no and sighed “I just need my bag”

George walked across the room and picked up your red toiletry bag. You quickly retrieved it, walking over to the sofa you sat down and rifled through it, flicking past your period pads and tampons you pulled out your mini calendar.

Fred and George sat down next to you, the two of them sharing looks of concern.

You counted through the squares, week by week and flicked the page, then another. A wave of sickness and panic pooled inside of you, you put your head in your hands and shook your head.

‘I can’t be, we used a contraceptive charm... surely it worked’ you thought to yourself, your knees shaking and your stomach churning.

“Y/N, what's going on?” George asked, his brother too worried to utter a word.

Everything started to make more sense: the persistent morning sickness, the bloating, the all-day long nausea, your weepiness and mood swings, your breasts constantly feeling tender.

“I think I’m pregnant” you choked out, swallowing hard.

Fred felt his heart sink, feeling scared and annoyed at himself for getting you into such a scary situation.

You went back into your red bag and pulled out a pregnancy test you got from the pharmacy at Christmas when you were back in muggle London.

You stood up, putting the test up your sleeve, walking to the same bathroom, hoping Myrtle would be elsewhere harassing Harry.

“Back so soon?” Myrtle questioned you.

“Fuck off, Myrtle!” You yelled at her, losing your temper.

You walked into the empty stall, locking the door behind you. Fred waited outside as you pulled down your skirt and knickers and sat down. “Fred, put a tap on for me will you?”

Fred walked over to the sinks turning the tap on waiting for you.

You followed the test instructions and stood up, the sound of the fast flowing water made this a lot easier for you, but then again you were always needing a wee with the growing pressure on your bladder.

Flushing the toilet and putting the lid down you placed the stick on lid and walked to the tap to wash your hands. “Thanks love” you smiled at Fred.

“You know, whatever happens won’t make me run away.” Fred smiled, tucking a stray hair behind your ear. “How long do we have to wait?”

You smiled at him, drying your hands on your skirt you walked into his arms and pulled him into a tight embrace. “I’m surprised that you didn’t leg it” you joked, trying not to linger in your fear. “we’ll find out in five minutes.”

Fred stood outside the stall where the test was waiting. “Want me to get it?” He asked, pushing his hair out of his eyes.

You shook your head “it’s okay, I’ll get it.”

Walking into the stall, you creeped up on the test like it was a pest you were about to wallop. You grabbed it, your whole future, your whole worth and life would be determined by this stick.

You walked out of the stall standing next to Fred, he wrapped his arm around you. You took me a deep breath and turned the test over so it was facing you. Two blue lines in the little windows stared back you, looking at the key on the handle you got your answer; you were pregnant.

“What does it say sweetheart?” Fred asked sounding nervous.

You turned around to face him, wrapping your arms around him. “I’m pregnant with your baby Fred and.. I want to keep it.” You decided.

Fred pulled away for a moment in shock but he smashed his lips against yours, kissing you like he had never kissed you before; his pool of love spilling into you.

“Let’s go and find George, I want him to be the first to know.” Fred beamed, you nodded your head in agreement with him.

“Am I really?!” George asked, sounding like his father, he grinned at the two of you.

You nodded your head and showed him the test, George got up on his feet and hugged you and then his brother.

By 5 months your little Weasley started to move inside of you, you would jolt at first and you started to notice stronger movements and little kicks during your classes, grabbing Fred’s hand you placed it on your bump.

The students started to spread rumours and the professors couldn’t ignore it anymore, after all, you weren’t denying it.

You and Fred were forced to address the rumours, you were both scolded for being so irresponsible but you were also provided with support for your academic studies and a much needed appointment with Madame Pomfrey.

You were lucky, Hogwarts still accepted you, The Weasley’s (after taking time to adjust) were so excited for you and Fred, but you were most nervous to tell your dad; the man who always believed in sex after marriage, hated the Weasleys, and slated pregnant teens who needed help.

Fred pulled out a chair for you at the kitchen table, once you sat down he pushed it in for you making enough room for your little bump.

“Pack plenty of food on that plate, dear” Molly smiled warmly at you.

This caused Ron’s mouth to gape open “All because she’s pregnant doesn’t mean she can—“

“If I were you I’d shut it” Fred warned his little brother

“unless you want to wake up to spiders in your bed.” George added, smirking.

Papa I know you're going to be upset

'Cause I was always your little girl

But you should know by now

I'm not a baby

“So what’s with the visit?” Your father eyed up you and Fred, trying to figure out why you were home on a Saturday.

Fred sat awkwardly on the sofa, his focus shifting on various objects around the room, he feared that your father would rip his head off if he were to look him in the face for longer than a second.

“I just wanted to come and see you, I thought I’d come here instead of going to Hogsmeade for the fifth time in a row” you smiled shyly, trying to keep calm.

Starting to sweat, you fanned your face with your hand, if you were to remove your jumper showing your larger bump you’d be kicked out before you could offer an explanation.

Your father noticed the fishtail braid in your hair and smiled.

“I remember braiding your hair like that when you were a little girl, you could never sit still on my knee. You would always fidget wanting to go and play with the other little girls and boys down the street”

You smiled at such a fond memory of you and your dad, hoping that he would do the same if you were to have a little girl.

“Dad, we uh.. we’re actually here because we’ve got some news.” You opened up bravely, remembering to not place your hand over your bump.

You always taught me right from wrong

I need your help, daddy please be strong

I may be young at heart

But I know what I'm saying

“Has something happened at Hogwarts?” He asked, “have you done something?” He turned to Fred with a fast forming glare on his face.

Fred shook his head, “I—“

“Fred hasn’t done anything” you replied quickly, stopping Fred’s chance at coming clean.

“I brought you up to know right from wrong, to work hard, to respect yourself, to stay away from vermin.” Your father spoke, his words like tiny pins pricking at your chest.

You held your dads hand walking through Diagon Alley to buy the equipment you needed for your first year at Hogwarts.

Waiting in the queue outside Ollivanders a young girl with a baby bump walked past, holding out her dirt covered hands. “Could you spare a sickle or two? I’ve got nowhere to go.” She begged.

Your father pushed you out of her presence, standing in front of you “not a chance, you silly girl.” He spat at her.

You gave her a glance of sympathy and stared down at your shoes.

“Don’t have sympathy for that pathetic girl, she got herself into this mess and she shouldn’t rely on hardworking people to get her out of it!”

The tears in your eyes made your vision go glassy, wiping them away with your sleeve, Fred was quickly asked by your father to leave the room and to wait outside in the hall.

“Dad” you cried, feeling a lump form in your throat “I don’t want you to be angry or upset, I’m responsible for my own actions and choices—“

“What have you done? Tell me!” Your father began to lose his patience.

Fred stood outside the door in the hallway, pacing up and down in tears, he blamed himself - you grew up without a mother and thanks fo him you might be losing your father.

The one you warned me all about

The one you said I could do without

We're in an awful mess

And I don't mean maybe, please

“I don’t want you hanging around them Weasleys, Y/N. They’re bad news.” Your father droned on, walking you to the train.

“They seem really nice” you muttered quietly, admiring the twins getting onto the train.

“They’re too poor for their own good, Arthur has a strange obsession with muggles. That wife of his clearly has a problem closing her legs with all them kids!”

You sighed, feeling annoyed and embarrassed to even be related to the man who was dropping you off.

“I better hurry up or I won’t find a good seat” you replied.

Your thoughts spinning around your head made you dizzy, you had to swallow down the bile. “Please don’t be mad with Fred, he’s a really good guy”

Your fathers hands were bunched into fists, his knuckles started to turn white. “What has he done? Fred, get in here now!”

Fred felt he could faint at any moment but walked back into the living room and sat next to you, taking your hand in his.

“We’re in a really tough situation.” You trailed off, more tears spilling from your orb like eyes.

Papa don't preach I'm in trouble deep

Papa don't preach, I've been losing sleep

But I made up my mind, I'm keeping my baby,

I'm gonna keep my baby,

“I’m pregnant.” You breathed out, feeling the weight suddenly lift of your shoulders “and I’m keeping it”

Your fathers face flushed with rage, he got on his feet and pulled out his wand but your instincts beat him to it, disarming him you shielded Fred.

“Dad please don’t do this.”

“You’ve really done it this time, girl!” Your father yelled. “Did I not raise you better? Did all those lessons mean nothing?!”

You began to shake in your shoes, but you stood your ground, Fred took himself away from your shielding. “She’s done nothing wrong!” He defended you.

“I bet you’ve done this on purpose, haven’t you? Get a beautiful young girl up the duff so no one will want her!” Your father bellowed at him.

He says that he's going to marry me

We can raise a little family

Maybe we'll be all right

It's a sacrifice

You and Fred cuddled in the upgraded double bed, his thumb circling yours as your hands glued together.

“I’m going to marry you, Y/N. Once we have this baby and get on our feet.” Fred murmured lowly, trying not to wake up his brother who laid fast asleep on the floor.

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted.” You replied, your hormones making you weep in relief.

“We’re going to have the most amazing life, mini Fred’s and Y/N’s running around.” He chuckled, kissing your head. “We can get through this.”

“It was an accident!” You yelled at your dad through tears, you gripped your bump feeling the little one kick out.

“A mistake more like!” Your dad yelled back “I was begged not to bring you up after your mother died, that was my mistake! And even worse, there will now be a bastard in the family!”

His horrible comments ripped you into pieces, the pins now turning into hot pokers.

Fred wanted nothing more than to tackle your father to the ground, to beat him senseless but he grabbed your hand and tried to control his emotions.

“We’re going to get married dad, but now it’s more common for non married couples to have kids!” You argued, trying to persuade him.

“Married! With what money! You’re more deluded than I bloody thought, he doesn’t even love you!”

But my friends keep telling me to give it up

Saying I'm too young, I oughta live it up

What I need right now is some good advice, please

“Have you truly thought this through?” Hermione bored into you, pacing in the common room.

You looked up from your books and nodded “yes, how many times do I have to explain?”

“I’m just saying it’s not too late to change your mind, you’re too young to be bringing a child into this world.”

“I’m still studying and attending classes aren’t I?” You huffed, scowling at her. “You’re younger than me!”

“But what about getting a job to provide for your child? It’s irresponsible!”

“I get it!” You yelled at her, you slammed your book shoot and tossed it across the room, storming out.

You were hyperventilating, Fred rubbed your back helping you regulate your breathing.

“You’re dead to me, now get out, both of you. Leave my house and never come back!” Your father yelled.

“Daddy please” you wailed “I really need you, please don’t do this.”

You walked away from Fred and up to your dad gripping his hand in yours, “I need my dad” you cried, searching his lifeless eyes for a response.

Papa don't preach, I'm in trouble deep

Papa don't preach, I've been losing sleep

But I made up my mind, I'm keeping my baby,

I'm gonna keep my baby,

You cried your eyes out, climbing into your dads arms for a cuddle.

“Please don’t cry” he wiped your tears “what’s got you so upset?”

“I’m not ready to go to Hogwarts, I don’t want to be so far from you.” You wailed, your hair sticking to your face from all the tears.

Your dad tutted and chuckled at your silly worries “you’re going to love it once you’ve settled in, and you can always write to me if you need to.”

Your father snatched his hand back out of your grip, he picked up his wand and stared down you and Fred.

“You both need to leave before I do something I can’t take back.” He warned “NOW”

You cried all the way back to Hogwarts, Fred and George comforting you when you broke down into a mess. Hermione helped you catch up on all the work you had missed from being unable to attend classes as you got into the later stages of your pregnancy, you were about to burst at any moment.

Daddy, daddy if you could only see

Just how good he's been treating me

You'd give us your blessing right now

'Cause we are in love

We are in love (in love), so please (so)

“Mum!” Fred yelled from the bathroom, holding your hand “It’s happening!”

Laying a pool of the water that burst from inside you, you were slammed with contractions making it hard for you to get back on your feet. This was it, the moment you had been waiting for the past nine months.

Molly stumbled into the bathroom and moved her hands around rapidly, piles upon piles of towels and blankets filled the room and the bath started to run.

“Fred help me get her trousers off so we can get her into the bath.”

“Mum we can just use—“

“We can’t use magic for everything!”

After finally getting you undressed they placed you into the bath.

Fred held your hand and knelt beside you, stroking your hair and placing kisses against your temple.

“Please don’t leave me” you cried, feeling frightened.

I’m not going anywhere, love.” He reassured you.

Papa don't preach, I'm in trouble deep

Papa don't preach, I've been losing sleep

But I made up my mind, I'm keeping my baby, hm

I'm gonna keep my baby, ooh ooh

You opened your eyes and looked down still thinking you were in the bath, you found yourself in Fred’s bed, wrapped in blankets with a towel over your chest.

You tried to sit up but Molly stopped you, “take it slow, dear” she said softly.

“Where’s Fred? Where’s.. where’s my baby?” You asked feeling panicky.

Before you could drive yourself into worry, the bedroom door opened and Fred walked in with your bundle of joy.

Fred now delighted you were finally awake came by your side and placed your child into your arms.

You had passed out from losing too much blood just as your child came into the world.

“Madame Pomfrey was hammering at the door, brilliant timing really.” George told you as you counted your child’s fingers and toes.

“Is it a girl or a boy?” You asked, looking up at the Weasleys standing around your bed.

“A beautiful baby boy.” Fred replied, kissing your head.

“Fabian Weasley” you smiled, looking at Molly. “Let’s name him Fabian.”

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