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quindolyn · 3 years

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Better Kisser Part 2 || James Potter and Lily Evans

Request: “istg i need a fic or a blurb or something about being in a poly relationship with lily and james...after reading Better Kisser it’s all i can think about 😭” -anon

and

“hiii !! first of all, i love your writings they’re so amazing honestly !! could you maybe write something with hot lily from “better kisser” ? i’d love it if it was both sensual and fluff :) thanks so much if you ever do something like that! hope you have a nice day/night!“ -anon

and

“QUINN HEAR ME OUT

imagine a part two to better kisser but like smutty bc Lily starts bragging about how she thinks she’s better at other things since she’s the better kisser so they make it a competition over who can like... get the reader off fastest... and then it’s like a competition to see who can get her off the most...

good ideas here right...? N E ways love u bestie <3″ -anon

Word Count: 4,752

Notes:I got three separate requests for this so obviously y’all wanted it and I want to write it. This is smut! I could also do headcanons on Jily x reader and even if you guys don’t request it I’ll probably still write them because it sounds like fun.

Warnings: poly sex, jily x reader, dom!James, dom!Lily, sub!reader, LIly’s a sex god, prove me wrong, they’re both cocky as fuck

Part 1

Masterlist

Lily Evans was the stars, she was mesmerizing and mysterious. Just as they decorated the night sky, accentuating the darkness through their beauty she too brought out the best in those around her without dulling any of her own shine. She was sly smiles and gentle touches, slender pale fingers and long, swishing red hair. She was wondrous and beautiful, complex and absolutely gorgeous. Lily Evans, she was the stars.

James Potter was the sun, he was bright and glowing and impossible to ignore. James was messy black hair, and goofy grins, strong hands and bear hugs. He attracted all of those around him, sucking them into his gravitational field, giving them purpose, warming their souls. A centering person when the rest of their lives were crazy and unpredictable and scary. James Potter, he was the sun.

Where Lily was understated and controlled with her witty remarks and sharp quips James was loud and boisterous, trying to get the biggest reaction out of people. Where Lily was calm James was chaotic. Where she was focused on her end goal he was everywhere, practically bouncing off the walls.

Together they were perfect.

And somehow they were yours.

One thing was for certain, Sirius Black was an upright prick, and you owed him, bigtime. If it weren’t for Sirius Black you would’ve never kissed Lily Evans on a dare. You would’ve never kissed James to satisfy his curiosities. You wouldn’t have spent weeks exchanging tense glances with the two, holding your breath whenever one of them so much as sat down one seat away from you in the Great Hall. Lily would’ve never found you, hiding away in the common room in the wee hours of the morning, pouring over your Transfiguration notes preparing for your test the following morning, or rather later in the day. She never would’ve brushed the hair out of your face with her elegant fingers, nails painted in a berry shade, complimenting her pale skin. She never would’ve told you that you really needed to go to bed, she never would’ve leaned down, meshing her lips with yours, allowing you to answer that question that had plagued you after you kissed Lily.

What did her lips taste like when she wasn’t drunk?

The answer?

Well at that moment, morning breath. Which brought a new question to the forefront of your mind, what did she taste like when she hadn’t just woken up in the middle of the night?

It didn’t take long for you to find out the answer. She’d brought you up to bed, her hand clasped with yours, telling you that she and James wanted to talk to you in the morning resulting in you tossing and turning all night in anticipation of the conversation that would take place the next day.

If it weren’t for Sirius Black you never would’ve had that conversation with James and Lily by the Black Lake. You never would’ve even had the opportunity to accept their offer not to join their relationship but to start a new one, with all three of you. You never would have never learned what Lily tasted like, it was maple syrup and cherries by the way.

If it weren’t for Sirius Black you wouldn’t be sitting in your dorm room with the two of them, skimming over notes for your potions midterm. Well you and Lily were looking over your extensive notes, James on the other hand was sitting behind you, pressing kisses to the side of your neck.

You hissed as he dragged his teeth over a bruised spot on your neck, sending ripples of both pain and pleasure through your body, leaving your fingertips tingling, dying to get themselves on his skin.

“Aw, baby,” He cooed in your ear as he registered your reaction, it’s not as though he could’ve missed it, not with your back pressed flush against his chest, “You a little sensitive there?”

“Come on Jamie,” You giggle trying to hide your neck from him, pressing your ear to your shoulder, “You already know I am.”

James slipped his rough, strong fingers under your jaw, using them to lift your head back up, away from your shoulder, “Don’t hide from me darling, wanna see the marks I left on you.” He returned his lips to the same spot on your neck, lapping slightly at the purple mark with his tongue.

Lily snorted from where she laid on her stomach a couple inches away from you on the same bed that had been transfigured to accommodate all three of you.

“What’s so funny Lils?” James inquired, peeking up from the delicate skin covering your thrumming pulse.

“Nothing,” She sang, twirling her pen in between her fingers, her feet hanging lazily in the air, “I just think it's funny you think you left that mark on her.”

“Well I did,” James said plainly, obviously not amused by Lily’s comment, “Didn’t I poppet?” He asked, pressing his lips to the shell of your ear.

You ducked your head, trying to hide your wide eyes and heated cheeks from the two of them.

“It’s okay (Y/N),” Lily cooed, setting her quill down in her book, marking her page as she closed the book, dropping it onto the floor, “You can tell him it was me who left that, his ego can take it.” She held eye contact with you for a minute, managing to keep a straight face before a smile broke out across her lips, chuckles erupting from the soft cushions of her lips, lathered in a light pink gloss, “Okay, it probably can’t but that shouldn’t stop you baby, Jamie needs to remember that he’s not the only one who can make you feel good.”

“I know I’m not Flower, but I left this one, I can tell, it's one of the darker ones.” And he was right, the entire left side of your neck was littered in bruises and bites, some lighter than others, some darker, but none as dark as the one he was currently tracing with his index finger.

“Nope,” Lily countered, popping her p before pushing herself up off of her shins in order to settle between your open legs, “I distinctly remember, I had her pressed up against the wall before you got back from Quidditch practice, she moaned so pretty for me, prettier than she ever has for you.” She grinned victoriously, turning her gaze back to you, and only you, “It’s like he cares more about that fucking snitch than he does us.”

“That’s bullshit love and you know it,” He murmured in your ear pressing a kiss against the corner of your mouth before dragging his lips, considerably less rough than they were before you started dating him as you’d made it your mission to apply lip balm to his lips every time you saw him, across the side of your face back to your ear, “She’s just trying to turn you against me, she’s so mean isn’t she.”

They loved doing this. Making you choose between the two of them, or trying to anyway. The power struggle between the two of them was hot as fuck.

Before you could so much as open your mouth Lily was responding for you, “I’m not mean doll,” She crooned, not looking at you but rather focusing on the dark haired boy whose nimble fingers were expertly pulling at the hem of your shirt, slowly but steadily rolling up the material until it covered just was much as your bra, “Jamie just needs to remember who the better kisser here is, who makes you feel the best.”

Ignoring her jab James murmured a quick, “Want this off,” In your ear before pulling the shirt over your head and arms, tossing it off the bed and onto the floor paying it no mind as soon as the material slipped from his fingers.

Desperate to prove his worth, to prove his dominance James’ hands ran up and down your thighs, inching your skirt up them, “You’re not the better kisser here Flower, you’re not the best anything. Our baby here loves me the most.”

“She told us James,” Lily sighed, clearly exasperated with your boyfriend, “After she kissed you for the first time she told us. I’m the better kisser, just accept it. She likes me the most don’t you (Y/N/N)?”

“Jamie you make me feel so good,” You began, hoping to soften the blow, “But Lily’s tongue is magic, feels so good in my mouth, in my-my…”

“It’s okay pretty girl,” She simpered, “You can say it, where does my mouth feel good?”

“My pussy,” You forced out, willing yourself not to stutter.

“That’s right my pretty little kitten,” She grinned, tilting your chin up with her index finger so that you were staring into her swirling emerald irises, darkened with obvious desire. “I make your pussy feel so good, better than Jamie.”

“Off.” James demanded, not taking kindly to Lily’s teasing, as he aggressively undid the clasp on your bra, the snide remarks obviously doing no damage to his ego as he pulled the straps from your arms. Taking no care with the expensive, luxurious garment that he himself had bought for you he flung the clothing over his shoulder. Clearly not caring about the money he’d spent on it as the silky material crumpled next to the bed.

“Not just my tongue that makes you feel better isn’t that right my darling?” Lily smirked, beginning to undo the buttons on her button up, “S’my fingers too, stretching you out on my fingers, they can reach so much further in you than his can.”

“Pfft,” James shook his head, one hand settling on your waist, gripping with a frankly frightening strength, no doubt melding dark purple bruises in the shapes of his fingertips on your soft skin.

“Gimme your hand Flower, let me show our baby that you’re wrong” James demanded as the hand not on your waist extended towards the redhead. When she dropped her hand in his he immediately lined them up, palm against palm, fingers against fingers, and much to James’ chagrin his hands were only barely larger than hers. His palm was much larger than hers leaving his fingers slightly shorter than his girlfriend’s.

Feeling benevolent, you grabbed his hand before it dropped down to his thigh in defeat, pressing your hands together as he had pressed his to Lily’s. Yours were considerably smaller than his, and therefore her’s too, your palm nearly half the size as his, your fingers dwarfed by his.

“See Jamie, your hands are bigger than mine.” You comforted, mesmerized by the contrast, “Your fingers make me feel so much better than mine ever could. They don’t even come close.”

“But that’s besides the point right poppet?” Lily questioned, grasping your jaw in her graceful hand, you noticed her ivory dress shirt now hung open, revealing her red lace clad breasts as she once again tilting your head up to look her in the eyes, “Because you’re not allowed to touch yourself, not without my permission.”

“Or mine,” James piped up.

Rolling her eyes at her boyfriend Lily released her grip on your jaw, “Keep your eyes on me darling, be my good girl.”

“You even like my strap more than you like James’ cock, stretches you out so much better than he ever could. Not to mention we don’t have to wait for his little blue pill to work do we?”

Being a muggle born you understood her joke but James was utterly bewildered by your shared laughter.

“You’re not laughing at me are you, you little slut?” James spat, his voice hard and unwavering as he turned your face with a single finger so that your neck was craned to look at him.

“N-no,” You shook your head pathetically, your eyes flashing downwards not being able to meet him.

“Open,” He commanded, tapping your bottom lip and you instantly obeyed, not daring to disobey him. You were rewarded for your obedience by the male spitting into your mouth, the taste of his saliva bleeding along the expanse of your tongue.

“What do we say to Jamsie, pretty girl?” Lily raised an expectant eyebrow.

“Thank you.”

“Good girl,” James muttered, watching as you swallowed the gift he’d given you, “Thought you’d forgotten your manners for a second.”

“Not our good girl,” Lily grinned, somehow now only in her thong, “No, she’s such a good girl for us.”

“Guess she is,” James agreed, leaving a trail of kisses between your shoulder blades.

“Bet I can make our baby cum first James,” Lily boasted, beginning to work on the zipper of your skirt, expertly pulling it off of your legs, “Being the better kisser and all.”

“Don’t get cocky Evans,” James tutted, pulling his shirt over his head as he had yours, “You know I love your strap baby but it just can’t compare to my cock. Mine’s real.”

Clearly unimpressed by his comment Lily pressed her lips to yours, maneuvering you so that you too were on your knees, giving James time to strip down to the same level of clothing as the two of you.

Smiling into the kiss she put but a millimeter of distance between the two of you to catch her breath, “You taste so good kitten.”

“You’re the one who tastes good Lily.”

“So nice to me, don’t deserve you,” She planted a kiss to the hollow of your throat, “Let me make you feel good baby.”

Not complaining, you let Lily lie you back on the bed where James was no longer standing, instead now standing behind Lily, letting his hands settle on her hips.

Once you were lying down she hooked her hands under your thighs, pulling you to the edge of the bed as James helped her off the mattress, helping her plant her feet on the floor. It was things like this, the subtle loving gestures and actions even when they were practically at each other’s throats, that reminded you of how much they loved each other. Of how much they loved you.

“Look at these,” Lily lilted, her finger hooking under the silky material of your panties, “So pretty aren’t they J?”

“Very,” He whispered in her ear only loud enough for you to barely hear him, “Like her in red.”

Lily hummed in affirmation, tapping your hip as a non verbal clue to lift your hips so she could pull them off of you.

She didn’t waste a single second before kneeling down before you so that her face was level as your glistening pussy, already so wet from them just talking about pleasuring you.

After running a single finger through your folds Lily brought her finger to her lips, a hum leaving her lips. “You taste good down here too (Y/N), you have such a pretty pussy.”

“Thank you,” You murmured, attempting not to whine and be their good girl even though you desperately wanted them to touch you.

Without any warning Lily inserted two slender fingers into your cunt causing you to gasp at the sensation. “Lily,” You whimpered, trying not to buck your hips towards her hand, not wanting to let on quite yet how desperate you really were.

“See J?” You could hear the smirk on her lips as she slowly moved her fingers in and out of you, paying you no other mind, instead directing her attention to her boyfriend who still stood behind her, his hands now on her bare shoulders. “She’s really not all that hard to please when you actually know what you’re doing. Had my fingers in her two seconds and she’s already so needy for me.”

“Shut up Lils,” James growled, “Stop talking like I don’t know how to get her off, she’s my baby too, I know exactly how to get her desperate.” In his efforts to prove his point he moved onto the bed, taking one of your nipples into his mouth resulting in a whine to tumble from your lips as he raked his teeth over the sensitive bud.

As his mouth sucked on one his hand moved to the other nipple, rolling it between his fingers before pinching harshly making you gasp in pleasure.

Lily allowed James to have his moment before taking your clit between her lips and sucking. If you gasped for James you absolutely screamed for Lily, thank Merlin for silencing charms because otherwise someone would’ve probably thought you were being tortured. Once she had your sensitive bundle of nerves in her mouth she began humming, making wave after wave of intense ecstasy roll through your core and up your spine, leaving your nerve endings frayed and responsive to every single touch.

You could feel everything, the soft material of the duvet beneath your back, James’ tongue circling your nipple, one hand caressing your heated cheek while the other traced shapes down your stomach. You could feel Lily’s fingers continuing their assault on your cunt, reaching so deep inside of you that they almost touched your g-spot, but not quite, as your clit was set aflame by her mouth.

“You’re not even trying,” Lily snarked, coming up for a breather from in between your legs, “You really think you’re gonna get her to cum from playing with her nipples? I never realized you were that daft Jamsie.”

“If you’d give me a turn,” He began before Lily cut him off.

“Doesn’t look like she wants me to stop does it?” She nodded in your direction where you were writhing on the bed merely from her fingers. “Do you want me to stop, baby?”

“No,” You begged, “Please don’t stop, please! Need your fingers in me, make me feel so good.”

Grinning triumphantly Lily returned her mouth to your pulsing cunt, sucking with a new found vigor that had your back careening off of the mattress, hips bucking towards her mouth.

“Hey,” James scolded, moving his arm to keep your hips firmly on the bed, “Don’t be a desperate slut, take it as she gives you it okay? Be good for us.”

Nodding feebly you willed your hips still but it was nearly impossible as Lily replaced her fingers with her tongue, moving her digits to pinch your clit. Feeling the pleasure bubble up in your stomach you focused on your girlfriend’s ministrations, lapping at your hole with her tongue sent you into a whole new level of pleasure.

“Feels so good! Lily, that feels so good, please don’t stop!”

You could feel her smiling into your opening as she sped up her movements, bringing you closer and closer to the precipice of climax. “Am I allowed to cum?” You asked desperately, the only thing keeping your hips where they were being James’ strong forearm, digging into your hip bones.

“No,” He growled, slapping at your tit bringing you even closer to something you were apparently not allowed to do.

“Come on James,” Lily said replacing her tongue with her fingers as she moved her head to talk to the dark haired boy, “You can’t just tell her she’s not allowed to cum because it’s not you who’s going to make her cum,” Turning her attention back to you she smiled, “Of course you’re allowed to cum baby, don’t listen to him. Are you close, m’love?”

“Uh huh,” You screwed your eyes shut, the pleasure becoming overwhelming and only intensifying when Lily’s mouth returned to your clit, licking broad stripes up and down it.

“Baby look at me,” James’ deep voice commanded you, to which you promptly obeyed, “Wanna see you when you fall apart on her tongue, wanna see you cum baby, you’re so pretty when you cum.”

James’ words accompanied by a particularly harsh nip by Lily to your clit has you tipping over the edge, letting out a high pitched scream as pleasure took over your body, drowning you in the feeling of your lovers still working on your body, obviously not satisfied with leaving you with just one orgasm.

As you came to, your orgasm slowly seeped away from your cloudy mind, reentering you into your dorm room where you heard Lily’s melodic voice, “See James, told you I could make her cum first.”

“Didn’t even get a chance,” He grumbled from his place next you, brushing the hairs off of your forehead. “Wanna make you cum poppet, tell Lily to give me a turn.”

“L-lils,” You managed in your post orgasmic haze, “Want Jamsie, want his- want his…”

“Look at how good of a job I did on our baby,” The redhead boasted, “Just one in and already a blubbery little mess. How do you think she’s gonna be fairing when I have her on her fourth?”

“Only shooting for four Lils?” James raised a defined eyebrow, “I was thinking I could get at least five out of her myself.”

Your eyes widened, slightly in alarm, slightly in anticipation. “F-five?”

“Shh kitten, let us talk,” Lily chaisted lightly. “You really do think highly of yourself don’t you Potter?”

“I’ve done it before,” He countered.

“No, we’ve done it before, both of us. Neither of us have ever gotten her to five by ourselves.”

“Don’t think you can do it Flower?” As he rose from the bed and moved towards Lily you caught sight of his cock, already painfully hard, the tip a bright red and leaking with precum.

“S’not me I’m worried about, don’t wanna overwhelm our baby.”

“I can do it,” You piped in feebly, “I can take it, make me feel good please, wanna feel good.”

“See Lily? If she says she can take it, who are we to question her?”

“You sure poppet?” Lily asked you, her eyes on yours.

“Yes Lily, I’m sure.”

That was all James needed to nudge Lily out from between your legs, spitting on his fingers before rubbing them up against your pussy. “You need me to stretch you out darling?” His voice laced with absolute adoration as he took in your perspiring figure from this new angle.

You shook your head but James wasn’t satisfied, “Wanna hear your voice poppet, come on not too fucked out yet are you?”

“No, don’t need you to stretch me out, want your cock.”

He grinned, lining up the tip of his cock with your quivering entrance, “There’s my good girl.”

As he pushed into you you faintly questioned why you didn’t have him stretch you out beforehand, but once he was fully sheathed inside you all you could think about was the way his dick pressed perfectly against your g-spot.

You moaned out as he began thrusting into you, ruthless in his efforts to make you cum. He moved his hands to hold your hips at an angle where he could better reach deeper inside of you if that was even possible.

“So pretty baby girl,” His grin was wicked as he watched your cunt, reveling in the sight of his cock going in and out of your dripping pussy, “You look so pretty on my cock, you gonna make a mess f’me?”

“She’s not gonna cum yet you himbo,” Lily interjected, “You’ve been inside her what? Five seconds? You need her to cum soon? You close?”

Using Lily’s mocking as motivation he pistoned his hips in and out even more viciously, leaving you a bouncing mess on his cock as he pulled his prick almost all the way out, so that only the leaking red head was still inside of you before fully sheathing himself in you once more.

“Fuck!” You cried out as the tip of his member brushed against your cervix, “Don’t stop!”

“Wasn’t planning on it,” James managed through gritted teeth, throwing your legs over his shoulders so that he wouldn’t have to hold them in his hands any longer, giving him the ability to grip your hips.

So lost in your pleasure you hadn’t registered where Lily was until she sat next to you on the bed, moving her fingers to massage your clit pulling a strangled gasp from your throat.

“L-Lily,” You stuttered out.

“Hey there baby,” She cooed, like she was talking to an actual child, “Jamie making you feel good.”

You nodded, keeping your eyes locked on hers.

“You close, kitten? You gonna cum soon?”

A whimper escaped your lips this time as you nodded once more.

“Let me see if I can help with that then, wanna see you cum again pretty girl.”

You closed your eyes, letting your head fall back against the mattress with a soft thud as Lily’s fingers started working magic on your clit, bringing you closer and closer to your second orgasm.

A slap against your clit, combined with the deep, hard thrusts of your boyfriend, reaching depths within you you could’ve only imagined before him sent you careening. Your climax washed over you in waves, each stronger than the last making you twitch and spasm on the bed.

You hadn’t even registered that you’d squirted, not until Lily’s delicate hands were rubbing your release up and down your thighs, “Well would you look at that?” James grinned, “I didn’t see you make her squirt Lils.”

“Oh, you don’t get points for this one pretty boy,” Lily grinned, not making eye contact with him but rather focusing on your pulsing cunt.

“What?” James was incredulous, “What do you mean I don’t get credit for that one, she came on my cock.”

“Yes, technically, but she only came when I started on that pretty little clit of hers, so responsive isn’t it, doll?” She asked, punctuating her remark with a gentle slap against your still throbbing cunt and a quick wink that James was too bewildered to pick up on.

Over the next couple of hours they were able to lull a number of orgasms out of you, James making Lily sit in a chair next to the bed so that she couldn’t touch you at all and take credit for any of his hard work.

You’d cum on her tongue and his, both of their fingers, once at the same time, they split the credit for that one but it was worth it, getting to watch your cunt stretch around both of them. You came on James’ cock more times than you could count, and of course on Lily’s strap on because Godric, did she know how to move her hips.

By the end you’d cum a grand total of nine times. You weren’t quite sure how’d you’d done it but you had. And they were both so proud of you.

The final score was Lily, five. James, four. You’d better believe that James was butt hurt about it, not quite willing to accept his obvious defeat, instead of acknowledging it and conceding to his very talented girlfriend, working on getting you cleaned up.

Once James had left the dorm to run you a bath Lily scooped you into her lap, running her hands up and down your thighs but being careful not to touch your sensitive cunt.

“You did such a good job for us baby,” She cooed, pressing kiss after kiss to the back of your head, “Came nine times, can you believe that?”

“Is Jamie going to be mad that you made me cum more?” You asked in your degenerative head space not wanting to upset your boyfriend.

“Of course not,” Lily squeezed your hips, soothing your woes. “Especially not at you, he might mope around a little bit because he is a man,” She pulled a light giggle out of your lips with that one, “But he’ll get over it, it's just gonna push him to work harder next time when he’s making you feel good.”

“Flower,” James called from the bathroom, “Bath’s ready.”

“Come on baby,” Lily said, easing you up onto your feet, “Let’s get you in the bath and all cleaned up for us alright?”

“Okay,” You yawned, understandably exhausted by the events of the night, “Will you take the bath with me?”

“Of course my pretty girl, not gonna let Jamie join us though, s’my reward for being the best.”

You chuckled, nodding your head in agreement, “Sounds good Lils.”

As she settled you into the bathtub Lily ordered James out before he could step into it with you.

“But-”

“Out!”

“Fine! Fine, I’m going!”

Lily was the stars and James was the sun, and fuck did they know how to make you feel good.

tagging: @randomoutsiders @weasleyposts @kittykylax @amourtentiaa

#harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #the marauders #marauders #marauders x reader #marauders poly #marauders fanfic #marauders fanfiction #james potter #james potter fanfic #james potter fanfiction #james potter x reader #lily evans #lily evans fanfic #lily evans fanfiction #lily evans x reader #jily #jily x reader

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justshamie · 4 years

Photo

So went a bit wild on stream and came up with a College AU and then decided to write a lil oneshot for it. Enjoy c:

Link to AO3 | Link to Twitch if u interested in more shenanigans c:

There was a soft knock on the door, but Adora in her hazy state barely even moved. She must have been dreaming or maybe she just imagined it. Her dream was more inviting than the prospect of someone bothering her in the middle of her afternoon nap. This was her only break before her evening classes, and she needed that dream to continue. The view of mismatched eyes, and the soft smirk on Catra’s face was imprinted in her mind.

She could enjoy that, couldn’t she? They might not have been anything official yet, but Catra. The girl that Adora wished months ago, that she maybe liked her back. Just enough so they could at least be friends. But now, Adora knew that Catra had feelings for her, and after everything they went through, she could embrace that. Now Adora could lay in her dorm room and daydream about holding Catra and putting her face in the crook of her neck, just relaxing. So maybe she was a bit smitten. No one could blame her. They spent every moment together they could, texting during lectures and hanging out together after. She knew Catra wasn’t big on being affectionate towards others, and yet Adora was an exception. Whenever they spent time with their friends it showed, she would flinch at hugs, not expecting them. Still Catra found her ways to be close to Adora. Showing affection wasn’t maybe her strong suit, but Adora was there to meet her in the middle. Sometimes just their shoulders would touch. Sometimes Catra’s confidence showed and she would quite literally sit in Adora’s lap. Sometimes it was just her finger tucked into the back of Adora’s shirt. Out of anyone’s view. Sometimes she would hold her hand even if she was doing something else. Adora would laugh at the way Catra ate soup with her left hand if not for the warmth that spread in her chest then. If anyone would point out the affectionate gestures, she knew Catra would retreat. Last time that happened they were hanging out with their friends. They met up to play a boardgame, but Catra ended up telling them to play without her. She just sat snuggled into Adora’s side, her head tucked under Adora’s chin, while she was slowly scrolling some book on her phone. They ended up in that position after an hour of a game of pretend. Adora pretended that she wasn’t melting inside at Catra getting closer, and Catra pretended that her snuggling into Adora was just because she wanted to stretch her legs. After Adora had her arm around Catra’s waist and her fingers intertwined into hers, she was not too happy to lose that. It took all of three minutes for Bow to notice.

“You guys are ADORABLE,” he squirmed, holding his hands to his cheeks. Everyone laughed at his comment. Adora felt a blush on her face, but that disappeared as soon as she noticed Catra freeze. Adora could feel the tension in her body right under her hold. When the goodnatured chuckling died down, Catra just excused herself to the bathroom. After coming back the weight of her back against Adora’s torso was just a memory. She ended up on the opposite side of the couch and remained there for the rest of the evening. Adora understood. Or rather she tried to understand, while letting Catra be Catra. She didn’t say anything and when they were getting back to their dorms, she found Catra’s hand in hers. Everything seemed right in the world then. They would find their place together and Adora was going to be patient about it. However, she still longed for those touches. She wasn’t innocent and she would initiate them herself, and the way Catra relaxed into her was cathartic. She would live and breathe those moments. It was like an invisible force was pushing them together. She sighed and looked at her phone. She texted Catra earlier that she was going to nap instead of getting lunch and they could get some food after classes were done. They had different schedules for the day, so Adora knew that Catra would be sitting in a lab right now, learning some photo editing software and being all grumpy about boring lecturers. Adora felt an overwhelming need to poke her in the cheek right now. Maybe she was a bit more than smitten. The knocking was back. Adora rolled over and got up, ready to tell anyone who wanted to steal her precious daydream to piss off. She grunted and opened the door, pulling the most displeased look she could.

“What’s that face for, you dork?” Catra laughed seeing Adora’s grimace.

“Catra!” Adora’s face went on a full trip. From irritation to shock, bashfulness and into that soft smile that was saved only for Catra. She stood there wearing Adora’s soccer letterman jacket. That made the warm feeling inside her chest grow. Adora gave it to her after one of the matches, because she was cold. Now it was like Catra didn’t have anything else in her wardrobe. She never told her to keep it, but she quietly hoped Catra would never give it back. It was like a part of her was always with Catra. Before she could think about it, she had her arms around her in a hug.

“Whoa, look out dummy,” Catra pulled away, shoving a paper bag between them. Adora looked at her puzzled. “Wait, what are you doing here?” she wasn’t complaining, but a moment ago she was sure, she wasn’t going to see her for a few hours.

“I got us lunch, duh,” she answered in that snarky way that Adora knew was just supposed to hide whatever she was actually feeling. There was a flash of uncertainty in her eyes. Adora let her inside the room with a grin. Seeing Catra in there always made her feel warm. Something about her being comfortable in a space that was just Adora’s. Catra dropped down on her bed, settling the bag next to her.

“Couldn’t sleep?” she asked, poking the bag absently. Adora saw those little glances directed at her.

“Couldn’t sit in a boring Photoshop class?” Adora smiled and plopped down on the bed next to her.

“I could learn more on my own, so I decided to bail,” Catra smirked. “Wait, you remember what class I have?”

“I sometimes listen to you, you know,” Adora pulled out her tongue. “Besides remembering your schedule is convenient. That way I can plan when I can see you.”

“I…uh. Okay,” Catra seemed to not know what to say at that. Adora waited. “Thanks.”

“Thanks?” she tilted her head, imitating a puppy. Maybe she wanted to tease her just a bit.

“Ugh… You know,” Catra pushed lightly at her shoulder. “For caring.”

Maybe she also wanted to hear that.

“Of course, I care about you,” Adora smiled.

“Dork,” Catra shoved her in the side and fell onto her back, stretching.

“Yeah, I am,” at this point, smitten might not have been enough to describe Adora’s feelings. Catra was just laying on her back relaxing. Adora opened the bag with food and pulled out three small trays of sushi and some miso soup. She would have laughed for Catra’s choice of eating fish, again, but then seeing her all comfortable on Adora’s bed made her heart flutter. She heard the quiet rumble coming from Catra’s chest. Catra was sunbathing in the warmth of afternoon sun. Adora set the boxes on the coffee table. That feeling of longing came to her. Adora wanted to wrap her arms around Catra and bury her nose behind her ear, in that soft puff of fur there. She touched Catra’s hand and made gentle circles with her thumb on the top of the palm of her hand.

“I’m gonna go grab us some plates, be right back,” she placed a soft kiss to Catra’s shoulder and got up. She was being patient, there was no reason to rush. If someone saw her in the corridor when she walked over to the communal kitchen to grab the plates, she didn’t notice. Her daydream came to life and she didn’t need any more distractions. Maybe she was pacing a bit. Having Catra in her room, wearing her jacket and relaxing on her bed was making her buzz. This was something she wished for a long time. Being patient wasn’t easy sometimes, but the feeling of being with Catra like this was worth everything. She stopped in front of her door. Plates in her hands. This was alright, she could have this warmth in her life, she could want to be with someone like this. She took a deep breath. It was alright. She opened the door. Catra was still lounging on her bed. She smiled. She put the plates down and crawled on the bed.

“Did you just come here to nap?” she teased, her head over Catra’s face, hair cascaded over her shoulder. She saw how Catra’s ear twitched when it tickled her.

“Don’t forget lunch,” a sly smirk showed up on Catra’s face, her eyes still closed.

“Oh? Is that so?” Adora grinned and gently slid her fingers over the side of Catra’s neck. She felt the rumble hiding in Catra’s throat.

“Maybe,” Catra said, the tone of her voice lacked that usual snarkiness. Adora knew that tone, although it didn’t come out of Catra that often. Maybe she wasn’t the only one that felt that in her chest.

“Comfortable there?” she smiled and started to softly scratch behind Catra’s ear with her other hand. A soft purr started to fill the space between them.

“Yeah,” Catra sighed. “I knew trading my classes for a nap was worth it.”

“And lunch, right?” Adora smiled. She couldn’t keep the tease in her voice either. Being like that together felt too good.

“Duh,” now Catra was smiling, that gentle expression that was saved for Adora. Adora had it catalogued in her mind. Adora could swear every time she saw that expression her chest was bursting from everything she felt. Their mouth were inches away. She could feel Catra’s breath on her chin.

“I was daydreaming about you earlier,” she confessed.

“Oh…” Catra’s cheeks turned a shade darker, she opened her eyes for a second but closed them right after. She looked like she wanted to say something. Adora waited again. “I missed you, that’s why I came here.”

“I missed you too.” Adora touched their noses together playfully. She could feel Catra’s breath on her cheek.

“You’re such a dork,” Catra smiled and bent her arm over her to grab at Adora’s shirt collar. “Come here.”

That was invitation enough. Adora closed the gap between them in a soft kiss. Their lips met and she could feel all that warmth flow out of her chest and fill the room. She felt every muscle in her body relax. It was gentle and exactly what her body longed for. The sound of Catra’s even purr filled her ears. Both of them weren’t going to rush anywhere, just happy to be there. Together. They pulled away, Adora put her forehead to Catra’s. Both of them sighed at the same time.

“Such a dork,” Catra giggled.

“Worth it,” Adora joined in a chuckle and planted a kiss on her forehead. Catra’s stomach grumbled hungrily.

“Right. Nap and lunch, how could I forget?”

“And you.” Catra smiled, and Adora thought she could daydream about that smile forever.

#catradora #she ra #spop #my writing #college au #catra #adora #catra/adora #she ra and the princessess of power #fanfic #fanfiction

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lilyharvord · 3 years

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I saw another anon on king mavens page ask how Cal would react if mare died and they didn’t wanna answer bcuz it’ll make them go into a depressive state. So if u don’t mind how do YOU think Cal would react if Mare died. If u don’t wanna write this u don’t hv too tho

I too saw annie's response, and while it makes me super sad to think about as well.... I've thought about it... I may have started writing a fic about it once (it was like once chapter), and I had an idea. So I'll give you my branched ideas. They're loooong so I have put them under the read more.

idea 1: Mare dies before they are married, before anything.

It's horrific. People are shocked... the little lightning girl? Dead? Impossible. Cal doesn't immediately hear about it, he's so busy he's doesn't know something's happened until he walks into a room and everyone goes quiet and slowly looks at him like he might collapse right then and there. He finds out because Farley pulls him aside. She takes him away from everyone to a quiet little garden with a fountain and tells him what happened. When he hears, he just sort of gives her this confused look, like HE doesn't understand, doesn't believe. Then he sort of sinks down onto one of the benches and just sits there. Doesn't move, doesn't even seem to be breathing. Farley thinks he'll explode in a ball of heat and rage and pain, but instead he just gets really really quiet, and really cold. The air around her gets so cold her breath fogs in front of her. He asks her to leave him alone and she does. He sort of draws into himself after that, doesn't really speak to anyone, spends a lot of time running and sitting at his desk and staring out the window. He attends the funeral but is quiet the whole time, he only speaks to the Barrows and even then, there isn't much to say that wouldn't hurt either party. After that he BURIES himself in his work. He gets so good at it that one day he looks up and ten years have passed. He's still got the stack of letters they wrote to each other, and he even has the letter he had been drafting to send to her on the front where he lost her. It ends with the phrase: I miss you. And god does that ring true. He miss her like a limb he lost. It feels like a part of him was torn away, just like with Maven, just like with his father, just like with Nanabel when she passed a few years back, just like the hole his mother left without him even knowing it was there. He visits her grave that year, just sort of sits under the little tree they planted, looks out at the mountains as the sun sets behind him, and talks to her like he does with Maven, tells her about everything that's happening. After a while, he just falls quiet and sits there, digging his hand into the grass and dirt right above the grave, like he can dig down to her, like it's her skin and he can still feel it's warmth. He swallow really heavily and then says: I never met anyone else that made me feel the way you did... I don't think I ever will. You were it. You were going to be it. And then he gets up and leaves. He runs into Gisa down in the Ascendent, they grab coffee at what was once Mare's favorite coffee shop, now it's Gisa's. They talk about everything, never mentioning Mare. Gisa only asks once if he's seen anyone, and he just shakes his head, and she gives him a tiny smile and says: she wouldn't have minded... well if a random bolt of lightning came from the heaven and struck you, then I guess you would know she minded. They laugh about that, and then he leaves cause he has an early flight home. When he gets back, he puts the letters in a box and then puts that box in a drawer. He never sees anyone else though. Doesn't even really fool around with anyone either. He tries once, and the whole time he just thinks about her, thinks about all the what if's and could be's. He apologizes profusely to the girl and says that it's not going to work. Something in her understands, some weird warmth that she gets that makes her pull him into an extra tight hug before she leaves from his little apartment in Archeon. He doesn't mind being alone as much, he has his friends and a strange little belief/hope that someday, he will see Mare again. And when he does he is going to pull her into the tightest hug and never, ever let go again.

idea 2: Mare dies after they are married and have at least 1 child

This one hurts far more. He knows she's on missions, and they made a pact to never be on missions together so that if the unthinkable happens and one of them does die, Coriane will have the other at least. Its a god awful early hour of the morning when there is knock on the door. Coriane is sleeping in his and Mare's bed, she had a nightmare and immediately came for comforting snuggles. He thinks he's dreaming when the knock comes again, a little more instant this time. He gets up, and Coriane sleepily trails after him, curious as a cat always. When he answers the door, he picks her up and is still sort of half asleep. When he sees the young soldier standing on the porch in uniform and the most pained look on his face, he is suddenly wide awake. The soldier reaches up and removes his hat before pulling out an envelope with the official Montfort seal on it. He holds it out and quietly says, "I'm sorry."

When Cal takes it, he worries that his hand is shaking, but it is perfectly still, Coriane is falling asleep on his shoulder, not even aware of the ramification of what this little envelope means. And he just sort of looks up at the man and asks, "Do the Barrows know?" The man blinks before saying, "Protocol dictates immediate family are informed first... spouses are immediate family along with children. We leave it to them to inform the rest...I'm sorry again sir." Then he gives a little clean military salute and leaves. Cal stands there for a long time looking at empty space, wondering what comes next, what he is even supposed to do. Coriane answers for him: by lightly tapping his cheek and whispering that she's cold. He closes the door, and sets the letter on the little table by the door. There are already four other letters there. One, an invitation to Farley's wedding to Cordelia at the end of the month, and another is a letter from Julian addressed to all of them, most likely about his trip with Sara to see the land north of Montfort. But there is her name in beautiful script on both envelopes. There is her favorite jacket hanging on the peg she always hangs it on. There is the book she left on the table, chaptered at the exact part she was on. There is her favorite mug in the sink because Coriane asked to drink her milk from it last night. She is everywhere in the house, and yet that letter means she will never be in it again. Those were her things. They not longer are. He carries Coriane up the stairs and puts her back in their his bed and then lays next to her, watching her chest rise and fall as she sleeps, a tiny smile creeping to her lips as she dreams, completely and blissfully unaware of how her life has fundamentally changed now. Then he rolls and stares at the ceiling, but the tears come and they don't stop as they fall silently. He gets up and showers at dawn--he didn't sleep-- and cries a little more there. He has to crouch down under the scalding water and bite down on his knuckle to keep from sobbing out loud and waking Cori. It's pitiful, and he knows it. She would be furious with him for not being honest about how he feels and trying to hide it like its some ugly thing. But it feels ugly, a twisted ugly thing in his chest that is screaming and clawing at his insides. He stands, turns the shower off, steps out, shaves, does his morning routine, and then wakes Coriane and gets her ready. She's still sleepy, doesn't understand, asks him when mommy is coming home, when she will be back so they can go to the market and get ice cream. He says they'll go today, but his voice shakes, even as he tries to hide it. Then he takes her to the Barrows, tells Ruth and Daniel to gather all of them together. When they are all sitting before him in the living room, packing it to the brim, he takes out the letter and reads it. There is a horrible silence when he finishes and folds it before putting it back in the envelope. Ruth slowly pulls Coriane toward her and then lifts her into her lap and hugs her so tightly Cori actually whines about it for a second before she sees the look on Cal's face. They all sit in the kitchen after that and Ruth makes tea and she makes hot chocolate for the kids and gives Coriane an extra 4 marshmallows. The kids leave to go play and the adults sit and discuss the logistics, where is the will, was the a will? Do they have to adhere to anything if there isn't one? Would she want to... to be buried on Tuck with Shade? The will would probably say. Should they do that if there isn't one? Ruth offers to take care of Coriane while Cal deals with everything, settling paperwork, etc. etc. Then everyone kinda starts talking about everything again, and he just sits in silence and stares at this knot on the table that Mare pointed out to him because she said it looked like a turtle on its back. He traces it a few times, just sort of thinking about that moment and all the other times they would be in this kitchen doing dishes after family gatherings etc. Farley watches him from across the table

before getting up and nodding for him to follow her outside. Everyone pretty much doesn't notice them leave, or they pretend not to notice. They sit outside on the back porch in silence, just the two of them. After a little bit, it starts to snow. The first snow of the year. Farley holds her hand out to catch the flakes and says quietly: "I hate that it doesn't rain when these things happen. It always feels like it should be raining." He nods silently in agreement, and then she sets her hand on his shoulder, and he bends forward, letting the weight of it drop his head into his hand. He doesn't cry again, he honestly doesn't understand why he feels nothing now, just emptiness, and numbness from the tips of his fingers all the way to the tips of his toes. Even with Maven he didn't feel this way. He felt something then, something biting and hot like a pan that he touched when it just came off the stove. They sit like that for a long time before Coriane comes outside, and slips underneath his arm to snuggle against him. Farley gets up and leaves then, sensing she's said her peace and he understands she's there if he needs her. He holds Coriane close when the back door closes, and she whispers quietly to him, "Mommy's not coming home, is she?" and he just squeezes her once in answer. She frowns and stares out at the snow for a second and then turns around to face him and cups his cheeks in her little hands like she had seen Mare do a hundred times when Cal was in the middle of an especially hard day. She looks at him with a very serious expression for a child and he can see Mare in her when she does that, in the crease of her brows and the slight squint in her eyes. In the hint of chocolate brown in the curls of her hair. She will be furiously beautiful like her mother, and he had a feeling someday she will break a man's heart like his is breaking now. She looks at him for a good little bit and then says, "don't worry, I will take care of you." And he laughs, knowing that Mare always said the same thing. He pulls her close again and whispers with a thick voice, "it's my job to take care of you. But it's just us now... we have to take care of each other."

The funeral is in the spring. Cal pushed it off. Mare hated the winter. Even though she had happier memories of it now, her childhood and the painful clenching of her empty belly were like a permanent stain on the season. He would not bury her in that time. When the snow thaws and the ground melts, they release her ashes on a hill and leave stone for her on a hill under a tree, with a view of the mountains. There is a long line of epithet underneath her name: beloved daughter, sister, friend, wife, mother. Staring at it, Cal wonders if she knows just how important she had become. If she knew that she wasn't just a captain, or a figurehead that brought a centuries old regime to its knees. Everyone leaves after, the Barrows going last, but Cal and Coriane stay. Cal just sitting in the grass next to the grave, the wind in his hair while he watches the mountains for a little while. Coriane sits on the grave, probably not the nicest thing to do, but she does, and traces Mare's name over and over again on the stone with her little finger. "Mommy had a long name." She says as she traces the four names on the stone. Cal hesitated to put his name on there with hers, but he adopted the Barrow name as much as Mare took the Calore one when they married. And in the very, very short will she had drafted, that he almost didn't read because reading it made everything real, she asked that he put both their names on it (but to put his name before hers and she even made a little quip at him in the will about it which made him laugh, even as it made him cry). He glances at Cori after she says that and nods. She then crawls into his lap and they sit watching the mountains before Coriane says, "Uncle Julian says that when people die, they become the dirt that feeds the trees and the grass... do you think mommy is happy to be tree food?" He laughs and hugs her really close before saying, "She's not tree food. That dust we let go of today was mommy. She's on the winds now, traveling everywhere."

He does not remarry, no matter how many years pass, and how many women try to infer that it might be for the best if Coriane had mother in her life. He thinks its a stupid notion that he can't raise his own child on his own. And its hard, god is it hard. But he does it. He makes Coriane Barrow Calore into a women that Mare Molly Calore Barrow would have been very proud of. And he holds onto the notion that someday, when he dies, and they scatter his ashes, that his will find Mare's and they'll be together again that way.

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blouisparadise · 4 years

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Here are some amazing bottom Louis fics posted or completed during the month of July. We really hope you enjoy this list and that you give these fics a lot of love.

Happy reading!

1) Your Good Time | Explicit | 3070 words

Louis nodded along with what the guy was saying, apparently his arousal taking over his brain to mouth filter as he said, “Who would want to hide a fit bloke like you? That guys an idiot.” Louis scoffed, dramatizing the word ‘idiot’, giving the guy a sly smirk. The guy leaned an arm against the bar, turned his body to Louis and fixed him with a curious look before he held out a hand.

“M’Harry.”

Louis and Harry meet in a bar when Harry's date is an ass. Inspired by Temporary Fix by One Direction.

2) I Push You To The Limits | Explicit | 3846 words

Louis is a brat who likes seeing his boyfriend get jealous and possessive over him.

3) Overkill | Explicit | 4354 words

Louis was never going to get over how fucking attractive Harry was. How glorious his big, tall, curvy body was. The feeling of Harry behind him, hot and heavy, trapped on the tube after they’d been somewhere during rush hour. His thick hands, full of pretty rings sometimes, handing Louis a cup of coffee, then getting one for himself.

4) Too Nervous to be Lovers | Mature | 6445 words

Louis doesn't want to spend quarantine with Harry, his straight roommate, who doesn't even acknowledge his existence.

5) Fratboy In Love | Mature | 6830 words

Harry Styles was a frat boy who loved to sleep around and flirt with boys and girls. Louis was a good uni student who loved to stay in and study and wasn't much of a partier.

Insert his best friend Niall who talks him into going. Louis gets drunk and ends up sleeping with harry. The next day he leaves before Harry wakes and tries to avoid him at all costs. Thinking Harry wouldn't care since Louis was just another conquest. But what if Harry did care. And actually have a crush on Louis. Read and find out

6) My Sunflower | Mature | 7057 words

Louis would rather be sunbathing at the beach with his friends, not slaving his spring break away in his father’s flower shop.

7) Waiting | Explicit | 8023 words

Louis Tomlinson was Harry’s omega, of this Harry had always been sure. Unfortunately for Harry, Louis seemed to think they were just best friends. The six weeks that Harry has to live with Louis were going to be rough.

8) Shine Light Upon Your Ground | Explicit | 8506 words

Note: The fic pairing is Louis/H, which the reader can picture as Harry or Henry Cavill.

Louis sighs again and fiddles with the bracelet on his wrist, twisting the charms around and petting the fake diamonds.

“How much for a night?” A deep voice suddenly asks him. The man who approaches him is already pulling out his wallet and flicking through a bundle of bills. Louis, who had been sitting at the bar completely innocent and minding his own business, lets out an offended, strangled sound.

“Excuse me?” He demands, straightening up in his seat. The hem of his dress creeps further up his thigh but he pays it no mind.

9) Glistening Under The Sun (You're My Honey Soaked Love) | Mature | 8996 words

“Oh Petal,” he picks her up nuzzling the top of her head with his cheek as she nibbles on the lavender, “How lucky are we? I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy, the only thing we have to be sad about is that soon I won’t be able to hold you like this,”

10) Connected To The Heart | Explicit | 9059 words

Note: This is an coda scene for this fic.

“Your stage cue is way too close for you to be wearing that look you’re wearing,” Louis informs him. He can’t stop himself from looking up at Harry through his eyelashes, the silk of Harry’s dress shirt brushing against the backs of his knuckles.

“Twenty minutes,” Harry agrees. His breath is minty from the gum he was chewing earlier, fresh and warm. “Twenty minutes can be a long time, baby.”

This time, Louis has to force himself to roll his eyes. “Not nearly long enough for the way you always want to fuck me.”

11) Fuck U Betta | Explicit | 11438 words

There’s something about having Louis like this, exposed and desperate, that makes a primal urge bubble up from deep inside Harry’s chest. Desire mixed with something else, something unquantifiable. It’s the thing that makes them want this, need this. Nothing else will satisfy them or quench their thirst.

OR the one where Harry likes the thrill of the chase, Louis likes to be chased, and everyone gets what they need… in the end.

12) Kiss Me In Your Chevrolet | Explicit | 11569 words

"Yes, Lou?" Harry asked, rubbing his tired eyes. A gust of wind came through the open windows, sending chills down Harry's arms as a light rain began falling outside. He closed his eyes again and let his head fall back to the couch arm rest.

"Can we go there?" Louis asked, probably pointing somewhere. Harry opened his eyes and felt his heart jump in his chest, a magazine page a couple of inches away from his face. Startled, Harry closed his eyes and breathed heavily, trying to collect himself.

Harry blinked a few times to focus his eyes on the page Louis still held in front of his nose. "You want to go to the Grand Canyon?" He furrowed his eyebrows, tilting his head to the left to look at Louis' face.

13) Pull The Trigger | Explicit | 12007 words

Note: This fic is a sequel to this fic, which is #16 on this list.

Louis has never been alright with killing. Will that change when he learns what it's like to be the one holding the gun?

14) Open All Night | Explicit | 12537 words

It’s six in the morning when Harry finally makes it back home.

Harry's a bartender, Louis' got a nice ass and a shit taste in men. They make it work.

15) Among Other Things | Explicit | 16073 words

“Harry, it’s 7:45, oh my god, my class starts at 8:15,” and Louis wants to cry. Harry’s busy under the bed trying to find the tiny silver key but Louis knows that fate just hates him and he needs to find a way to get up. “Harry, I—fuck,” Louis whines. Harry stands up in a rush.

“I can’t seem to find them. It. The key.”

Or, Louis’ the teacher of Harry Styles’ daughter. Their paths shouldn’t cross like this. This meaning Louis showing up to school handcuffed to a headboard.

16) A Bullet And It's Gun | Explicit | 18156 words

Note: The sequel to this fic is #13 on this list.

Louis’ parents arrange his marriage with Harry. He’s fully ready to accept that he’s going to be a sad and lonely person for the rest of his life. But then Harry starts proving himself as more than just an asocial man with money.

17) By Such Slight Ligaments | Explicit | 26764 words

Note: The fic pairing is Louis/Henry Cavill.

A late night visit to a patient sets off a series of events that will turn Louis' world upside down.

... Here there be monsters.

18) At Your Fingertips | Explicit | 27384 words

He finds himself wrapped up in sheets in bed on Thursday night, staring at the familiar name on a new story that was posted the night before.

His fingers twitch, ready to hit play and surrender to his impulses, saving the regret and turmoil for later.

And still he hesitates, internally praying that he’ll somehow gain the strength to exit out within the next few moments before he inevitably loses his patience and hits the button.

Three…

Two…

One.

Play.

19) Forgot My Roots Now Watch Me Bloom | Explicit | 28334 words

Lonely transit worker Louis pulls his longtime crush, Peter, from the path of an oncoming train. At the hospital, doctors report that he's in a coma, and a misplaced comment from Louis causes Peter's family to assume that he is his fiancée. When Louis doesn't correct them, they take him into their home and confidence. Things get even more complicated when he finds himself falling for Peter's brother, Harry. Loosely based on the movie "While You Were Sleeping".

20) Push You Out, Pull You Back In | Explicit | 31544 words

Harry hates feeling vulnerable. Louis is set on breaking through his tough facade.

21) Baby Blue | Explicit | 39439 words

Harry Styles takes his time coming out to greet them. Louis only knows what he’s seen on file and what he’s heard them talking about, but he fully lives up to the image he had inside of his head.

He saunters down the front steps of the farmhouse in his Levi’s, brown snakeskin boots curving out from underneath the denim Louis’ sure he had specially made. He’s got on a plaid button-down tucked into the jeans because of course he does, curls spilling out from either side of his cowboy hat around his sunglasses and country-tan skin.

“Harry Styles,” he drawls, extending a hand to Louis’ manager, “Pleased to meet ya’ll.”

22) Lidocaine And Palm Trees | Explicit | 44653 words

Heat, fake tans and lots of traffic.

Harry never expected to earn his living this way when he moved to LA.

Louis didn't think he could ever be the same after his divorce.

A lighthearted story about two guys trying to find themselves in the vibrant, sprawling city of Los Angeles, with a side of technical porn industry stuff.

23) Sleeping On Our Problems | Explicit | 67369 words

Louis sleeps with Harry and they have more than just catching feelings to worry about.

24) Truth Would Be | Explicit | 91869 words

“You want me? I’m not a… a thing to be owned!” Louis stuttered, still very angry and confused.

“Hmmm…” The alpha tapped his lips as if he was contemplating something. “Last time I checked, the debt was paid off and the only thing I had asked in return was… you. So technically I do own you.”

“You are crazy…” Louis muttered as he began to back towards the door. Harry’s impossibly green eyes turned a shade darker, but his tone was still teasing and light when he said, “Maybe I am…”

The I-paid-off-all-your-debt-so-you-are-mine AU in which Omega Louis wants to be left alone by Alpha Harry but it's super complicated when he starts to not hate the alpha all that much.

25) Collision | Not Rated | 224594 words

Note: This fic was finished in 2018, but two new epilogue chapters have been added.

Mythology/Fairytale!AU in which Louis is a dainty fairy with a temper who wants to be intimidating and Harry hurts people. Naturally, they hate each other.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

You can find other monthly roundup fic rec lists here.

#bottom louis #top harry #blp fic recs #monthly fic recs #fic recs #blp #larry

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hellothere-generalangsty · 3 years

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hi hello little mes. may i have a lil 📝 please? 👉🏻👈🏻 🥺 love u tons baby

-ari

Baaaabe of course I'll do yours! Trust me there are a lot. Because your fics are just THAT comforting and good. Also the order follows the one of your Masterlist; my absolute favorite is in blue 💙

Tagging u because I don't think you receive the notif when you send anonymously (I know I don't) @loth-wolffe

________

Home again

Of course I had to talk about this one; I just love the subtext in it.

[…]a little space for him to just be something more than what he was bred to be; not a soldier, not a brother, not a clone.

Just him.

See, that's the essence of the clones. The struggle of finding their identity through all these designations. Soldier, clone, brother, man. All of them, yet none of them. But then there's another option.

Themselves. No other name but the one they chose. No other person but the one they are.

He's got you, he thinks. And he's home.

Even if it's for a few days, everything's alright.

"It is now."

Again; it's beautiful yet painful. The only peace, comfort, home he knows is you; and you are ephemeral, he's passing-by for a few days, and though for a few days things will be fine- these days will also stop eventually and bring him back to the cold, bloody war he has no other choice but to be a part of.

And you manage to express that through barely a few sentences. I am amazed.

It's been a long, long time

This one is. It always hit me in the guts because it feels close to home to be honest. And it's both terrifying and reassuring to really be the reader and to know what they both feel; that dreading fear, do you still love me like you used to?

Which led you to this moment, nervousness bubbling in your chest like some sort of venom, thick and foul, spreading through your body fast and corrosive.

You feel sick at the mere thought of having him in front of you.

These two quotes hurt from being so real. It's the anxiety eating you alive as your mind fills with questions and doubts and fears.

And then the moment comes:

Your hand itches to feel him.

Where you need to know. You need a touch, a word, something to let you know where exactly you are now.

Until you do.

Rex wraps your body in his arms, pulling you flush against him, face hiding in your neck as he breathes you in. He almost cries, right then and there, you smell just like he remembered, like something sweet, something like home.

It's comforting, really, to know nothing has changed between you two in a galaxy that always seems to be.

And just like that, you know you're fine.

And it's honestly - for me - your best fic because it's the one I see myself in the most. It's very real to me and it's just... It just gave me hope when I was hopeless; it gave me the strength to face my fears/ doubts and to trust my partner and myself enough to know that even after all that time apart, it would be alright.

We still find each other. We still love each other, and care for each other. And we still find a way to make things work.

It's not about leaving, it's about always coming back to each other. And that's why this fic will always have a very special place in my heart.

I'm grateful you wrote it, because it was here when I needed it the most.

Here in the open

Rex is so soft in this one-

The way he drops the mantle of Captain and simply is Rex, a man who never felt sand under his feet, who never felt the warmth of a kiss and the soft touches of hands running on his body-

I promise you this fic is. Absolutely amazing. It's just so delicate and natural; the way everything happens, learning that a beach can be pretty and calm, that you can feel something else than your hard plastoid armour or the cold metal of droids; that there's more than fighting in life.

It's just so meaningful and soft, I just love that fic.

And tbh these last few sentences were hot. Me like it.

Goodbye again

It's a Fives' fic, of course I love it. And it's the opposite of 'It's been a long, long time' in a way, so I love it even more.

That one quote about knowing that one day, he won't come back... It hurts. It really does. Because we know he won't come back, right. That's why we write these fics in the first place, because we know and we are so desperate to change that.

You wish you could see him, but he's already late, and someone calls his name but he decides ignores them.

Right now, you're more important than them, than war, than everything he's supposed to be made for. You are his whole world, at the end, his home, his safe harbor he can always come back to after the most harrowing storm.

And again, the whole crisis around who you were made to be and who you want to be- who you truly are.

And the metaphor? Earlier on he thinks reader is an anchor to him; and now a safe harbor? Yes, sign me in immediately.

"I'll comm you as soon as I can."

[A few moments later, on the comm]

"I miss you already."

Dude. That and the "I said I love you! "

It just makes me m e l t. It's so SOFT. Ari I promise you I could read everyday and feel these goosebumps like it was the first time. I'm just so soft for this little playfulness, this amused affection he has.

That's just... That's just so him.

[And here you can witness Meds falling in love all over again]

Doctor's orders

This. I am SO WEAK for this trope. "Where does it hurts? " try my CHEEKS BECAUSE I CAN'T STOP SMILING DUDE.

Kix is so. Soft. And the way you wrote it? "This is it. This is him making the first move." ?? "Then you'll need a few more kisses. Doctor's orders. " ??? Do you want me dead????

Good thing Kix's a doctor because I need someone to breath life back into my body right now.

The warmth a cup of caf brings can also be given by the gentlest of souls.

Where do I even start...

I love the domestic undertones. The habits, knowing about one another, recognising patterns and filling the gaps between the two.

Him watering the plants, you knowing he hates that movie; it just smells like trust and comfort. That's the kind of habits and almost mechanical reactions you develop when you just know someone.

This fic is like- the development of "I can't carry it for you, but I can carry you" and that's just... So meaningful.

You know, I'm a sucker for domestic life and everything that comes with it, and this fic is the epitome of that. It's comforting. I love it.

Baby came home

It's one of the first I read from you, and I remember how painful it was. I think that's the fic that convinced me to dedicate my life to your stories.

The amount of pain. Unrequited Love is one thing; but when both parties love each other yet it just can't be-

"I can't love you anymore." / "you can't love me anymore."

Baby I promise you, you broke my heart and had me honestly tearing up. It is even more because it's Obi-Wan. A man who spent his life losing everything he ever had. His freedom, his master, his friends, men, lovers. Eventually his family, and his life.

And here he loses more. And here he carries pain- and it hurts him but not only. And that's soul crushing.

And you have a way with words. You have a way with words that make it all so true, you don't just write these stories, you bring them to life. And it's painful but oh will I ask for more anyway.

That Maul fic

"Ruthless and violent.

But not with you."

That's it. That's the trope. I am in love.

I just- I adore your take on Maul. And you should expect a Maul request when you'll open them again because gIRL do you write him well.

Because before you he didn't know something as simple a touch could be so soft, and light, before you he had no knowledge of such feelings, of warmth and and home. Of safeness.

This is the same energy as Crosshair being at home when he's with you. Men breeded for war, hurt and broken, somehow managing to find a little peace and softness through someoke who just- loves them.

[…]and his eyes gleam at the small action, the warm shade of a yellow that reminds you of the suns you both met under makes you lean over for a kiss […]

Aka how to turn a very distinctive symbol of pain and evil into something delicate and beautiful. Poetry at it's finest.

It's been too long since he last kissed you. Around noon, before you left to your usual walks around the Palace gardens' with his brother.

It's so sweet; at first I chuckled because it's silly. But then I felt sad because it is silly. It's mundane, and it feels exaggerated - just what you wrote - but it's Maul. A man who's been deprived of love and affection for so long, of course he's going to miss it as soon as it leaves.

As soon as you leave.

I just- I just love how you have me sitting there and analysing your fics and finding double meanings and subtext and how you subtly reminds us of the pain in the soft moments; and the softness in the painful ones.

This fic is a feel- good fic; it's powerful yet soft and I absolutely love that.

________

So yeah. That was a bit longer than I thought but I won't apologize because these fics are just-

They're so comforting and good. And I just love them so. So much.

Moony is right when she says you write magic; you do. And, Ari. I am proud of you. I really am. You always leave me there, speechless and absolutely captivated by your stories and the delicacy of your words and that little something hidden between the lines-

I'm not lying when I say you hold my heart in your hands. You really do.

#sweet ari 🌌#little sun ☀️#I promise you #I read them all again to write this post #and girl- 👑 here #you own my heart #really you're an incredible person and writer and no languages or words could ever possibly express how grateful I am to know you #💙🌊#mesa answers #star wars #sw fics #fic recs #sw fic rec

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babybakuu · 4 years

Note

Hey I have to request for Bakugou x reader prompt: 11 & 18 pls

request from this prompt list!

11. Wow, you look..amazing. & 18. That was kind of hot.

A/N: im so sorry these are taking so long to come out lmaooo i have writers block and im really hating editing rn so this will be half way unedited,, thank u for requesting and waiting babie,, also its under a read more bc i can’t believe i wrote mfing 3k words for this

“Wow,” Katsuki says almost breathlessly, “you look..amazing.”

Your eyes narrow in on the blonde who’s currently standing in your doorway. You can’t tell if he’s lying or simply just pulling your leg. Did he always have to be so sarcastic? “Haha, very funny Katsuki.” You’re rolling your eyes with a pink tint on your cheeks and your hands start to fidget with the bottom of your dress. “Can we just get this over with?”

“I’m being serious you know. You look good.” He says as he holds out an arm for you to grab and you do. But you were waiting for it- the punchline, the teasing- “I didn’t know a gorilla could dress up so nice.”

There it was.

“Shut the hell up.” You deliver a solid punch to his arm as he leads you to his car but he doesn’t even flinch. “Remember I’m doing you a favor, if you’re not nice to me maybe I’ll slip up and tell your parents during dinner that we’re not really dating.”

He pauses and glances in your direction. “You wouldn’t.”

You shrug. “Maybe I would. How long has this been going on for Katsuki? 6 months? 8? How disappointed would they be to hear-”

“Alright, just shut up.” He huffs, holding the car door open. You’re cocking an eyebrow at him, arms folded against your chest, and the expression has him hesitating. “I mean uh, please..shut up?”

A scoff slips past your lips and you find yourself rolling your eyes. “Better.” You sigh, while climbing in. “Not the best but better.” The door closes with a thump next to you and you’re scanning his car. It’s spotless like usual, the leather seats didn’t have a speck of dust on them, and it smells just like burnt caramel- a scent that was growing on you a little too much.

“Brief me.” You say as he climbs in. “What have we done since we last saw your parents?”

“You tell me.”

“How come I have to think of everything in this fake relationship?” A prominent pout is on your face and for a second, you swore you saw him staring at your lips. Was your choice of lipstick too much? Not good enough? You’re suddenly self conscious but he turns away, buckles his seat belt, and starts driving.

“Well, if we were really dating- what would you like to do?” He catches a glance from the corner of his eyes and you’re sitting there, arms folded against your chest and that pout on your lips fades.

“If we were really dating huh.” You absentmindedly repeat. The sentence settles in your mind and the butterflies in your stomach start fluttering.

If you two were really dating..how nice would that be? You wouldn’t see him every once in a blue moon when he asked you to come to dinner with his parents. You’d probably get to eat more of his cooking. And maybe, just maybe- he would hold your hand just because he wanted to, not for show.

“Hello? Earth to planet dumbass?” He questions, breaking you out of your thoughts.

“Uh..camping..” You reply. “I’d really like to go camping.”

“Camping..huh. I didn’t expect that from you.”

“Well, I’d want to do something you enjoy and I’ve never been so..”

“Maybe we should go.” He pauses, throwing another glance in your direction. “Just you and me, it’ll be fun.” A small smile spreads across your face and your stomach is doing backflips at the thought. Just you and him? How many days would you spend together completely alone? “Can’t wait to see you eat shit while hiking.”

“Fuck you asshole. I take it back, I don’t want to go anywhere with you.” He does this ugly laugh snort thing and you can’t help but smile as your heart flutters a bit for the millionth time in the past 10 minutes. Maybe you should go see a doctor for that.

“Seriously- clear your schedule for next week, I’ll take you for your birthday.” And suddenly, you find yourself holding a hand against your heart and you’re warm, so so warm.

“You..remembered?”

“Why would I not remember my girl’s birthday?” He asks as if it’s the dumbest question ever.

My girl.

Your head is spinning and that smile tugging at the corner of your lips won’t go away no matter how hard you’re trying to make it disappear.

“What kind of fake boyfriend would I be?”

Oh.

Right.

This wasn’t real. And like magic the smile on your lips is gone.

“Yeah..haha.” You’re forcing a laugh but the disappointment on your face is evident. Your gritting your teeth and mentally cursing at the fact you are so so so head over heels in love with him. Curse him for being so handsome, for being so tall, for being so charming but at the same time annoyingly sarcastic, for being-

“Are you okay?” Katsuki asks breaking you out of your thoughts. He gives you this look. His eyebrows are furrowed, his head is tilted, and there’s genuine concern in his eyes. “We’ve been parked for ten minutes and you haven’t said a word.”

“Sorry, I was uh, thinking about something.” He’s staring at you with those red eyes that make you squirm in your seat with an intensity that rivaled the sun itself. Those eyes could pierce through metal just with a glance and he was looking at you with them? You’d probably die if you made direct eye contact.

“You know you can talk to me right?”

And when those words slip out of his mouth, you have an urge to confess right there and then. You want to tell him you’ve been in love with him since you’ve started this whole charade. But you don’t. Instead, you nod your head at his comment and reassure him you’re fine. He sits there, staring at you with those piercing red eyes and lets out a sigh. You know he doesn’t fall for it, he knows something’s not right, but he gets out of the car anyways.

“Watch your step.” He says. His hand is outstretched, inviting, big and warm. You take it and when your hand intertwines with his, you feel better.

“Thanks.” You mutter while attempting to memorize the feeling of his skin pressed against yours. What if this just ended tomorrow? What if he finds someone else that he genuinely likes? His fingers are laced perfectly between yours as if they were built, molded, and created just for you. But you don’t notice your head getting a little too close to the car frame because you’re so memorized by the warmth radiating from him and-

clunk.

��Ouch.” You wince.

“I guess I should’ve warned you to watch your head.” He laughs.

“Shut up.” Your hand is rubbing your sore head and there’s this adorable expression on your face but Katsuki would never tell you that, not in a million years. Instead, he places a large hand head on your head, he pulls you in close, and kisses the sore spot on your head. It doesn’t hurt so much after that.

“Aren’t you two just the cutest?” His mom’s voice rings from behind you two.

Greetings are exchanged alongside a few hugs and kisses and you’re laughing while watching the poor boy next to you get smothered in his mother’s lipstick. He swears he’ll get you back later and mutters something under his breath about “smothering you in kisses to see how you like it” but you ignore his empty threats and wipe off the prominent red on his face with your thumb. “My handsome baby.” You coo, imitating his mother, and pinching his cheek. He tells you to knock it off as he swats away your hand and that he “hates being treated like a 5 year old” but that smile on his face tells you otherwise. So you poke a little more fun, tease a little more, and he’s on the verge of leaning down and peppering your face in kisses but his father clears his throat when his hands are roughly cupping your face, and he remembers- he’s in public, in front of his parents, about to kiss the shit out of your face.

He lets it slide this time.

Everyone’s sitting at a table now. You two are poliety taking sips of your water and his mother is going on about their jobs, their daily lives, and maybe even possibly having another kid. Katsuki practically chokes as soon as he hears this comment and you’re attempting to hold in a laugh and at the same time juggle the liquid in your mouth while watching the blonde boy attempt to hide his coughs with a red face.

“Just kidding.” His mother says while folding her hands and placing her elbows on the table. For a minute, she’s sitting there with her head resting on her folded hands watching you attempt to gulp down the water but choking at the same time. She’s watching Katsuki point a finger at you and choking a second time on his spit. So now, you’re both looking at each other having a laughing and coughing fit, all the while struggling to just breathe. Ah, just how cute could you two be? But when she opens her mouth to say something, her husband cuts her off taking the words right out of her mouth. “You two really love each other, don’t you?”

And suddenly you two are caught like a deer in headlights. Katsuki’s cheeks are burning red and yours are a matching shade. “No need to be embarrassed!” Masaru exclaims. “It’s just that- you two look at each other with..uh..”

“So much love.” Mitsuki interjects.

“W-what?” Katsuki stutters.

“It’s the same way your father looks at me.” She says. “Don’t be embarrassed, tell your girlfriend how much you love her. I mean, you must’ve said I love you to each other already. It’s been about 7 months, right Masaru?” Katsuki’s reaching for his glass, pretending to be incredibly thirsty in hopes someone changes the subject.

“He’s said I love you already, hasn’t he (Y/N)?”

“Oh- are we ready to order?” You’re attempting to change the subject, you really are but Bakugous are relentless. You would know.

“Has he not?” Mitsuki gasps.

“I- uh-”

“Don’t meddle so much!” Masaru interjects. And for a moment you thank the lord for making Masaru Bakugou.

“We’re ready to order!” Katsuki yells for the waiter halfway across the restaurant, turning multiple heads in your direction and earning several glares.

“Smooth. Real smooth.” You whisper low enough for him to hear. You’re stifling a laugh as you land a playful smack on his thigh.

“Shut it.” He’s biting back a smile and before you could pull your hand away, he takes it in his, giving it a little squeeze.

Ah.

Dinner was always fun with the Bakugou’s.

Before you know it, the night is over. You’re hugging his mother goodbye and she invites you to a family gathering in two weeks, which you politely accept. His father on the other hand is in the corner giving him what seems to be a heart to heart talk but the way the blonde keeps on glancing in your direction every so often has you curious. What were they talking about?

“You know he loves you right? That boy won’t shut up about you.” Mitsuki laughs. A blush forms on your cheeks. “And you know how hard it is to get him to talk about anything.”

You’re simply nodding your head as she continues to talk about anything and everything and at the same time you’re absentmindedly rubbing your arms. Why was it so cold today? “I think it’s time to go.” Katsuki appears behind you, dropping his big coat on your shoulders. Thank lord he was practically a human heater thanks to his quirk. You’re burying your face into his jacket.

Was your face cold? Yes.

But did you also want to engulf yourself into his scent before the night was over? Yes.

“Come on, let’s go before you freeze to death.” You both say your goodbyes a second time and make way to his car. “Don’t hit your head.” He muses holding the door open. You shoot him a glare but he’s chuckling at the sight. “Cute.” He snorts. You’re sitting the car now, his jacket around your frame, and you look up at him- your mouth ready to shoot back a sarcastic remark but you freeze. His eyes are soft, he’s wearing this small smile that could probably melt the sun itself, and at that moment, he just looks so..content. Your heart is swelling at the sight.

“What are you looking at idiot?” He snaps but that smile on his face grows wider and you feel your heart skip a beat. You gulp. Why did he just have to look so handsome- so perfect? It was almost as if he was asking you to confess- to let him know how much he meant to you, how much you liked him.

“You’re a little ugly looking.” You reply. He does that ugly snort laugh again and he rolls his eyes while slamming the door shut.

“Yeah fucking right.” You hear him scoff through the car door. “Me? Ugly?” He’s inside now, taking his seat and placing his hands on the steering wheel. “You just have really bad taste in men.”

“Yes, exactly why I’m dating you at the moment.”

For a minute he’s taken back at the fact someone could match his energy- his sarcasticness but a smile is on his lips nevertheless. “I am not fucking ugly.” He says, he’s half joking half serious and you can tell he’s actually concerned..? But the Great Katsuki affected by your comment? Wow, dinner and a show. “Right..?”

“Mhmm, yeah sure. You’re the handsomest man out there.”

“You just have shitty taste in men.” He repeats. “I was voted the sexiest hero of the year- of the decade! Any woman would be happy to have me.”

“Okay Katsuki, whatever you say.” You’re giggling at how hard he’s taking this, it was almost as if his pride was being ripped to shreds by one small comment.

“And I was voted the best dancer, singer, kisser-”

“Kisser? How the hell did they come to that conclusion?”

“Word of mouth.”

“You? Kissing a girl? I’m your first girlfriend and our relationship is fake.”

“Doesn’t mean I haven’t kissed someone before.” His tone is cocky, his chest is puffing out a little, and what was with that annoying ass smirk on his face?

“Yeah right.” You laugh. “Come on, just take me home so I can watch my show and eat ice cream.”

“You don’t believe me?” His raising an eyebrow and his eyes had a little glint in them. What was that? Cockiness? Pride? You didn’t know but whatever it was- it was making you nervous.

“I don’t know if I would believe a teen magazine.” Your eyes are rolling and you’re getting semi annoyed with how adamant he was being. Did he really have to insist he was the best at everything? How the hell did you even measure how good of a kisser someone was?

“Kiss me then.” He says, your heart skips a beat and your cheeks instantly flush.

“W-what?”

“I said kiss me you idiot. I’ll show you I’m the best fucking kisser in all of Japan.” You’re laughing, you’re laughing so hard to the point tears are brimming in the corner of your eyes but when you look over and his face is as serious as can be, you gulp. “I think I’ll just take your word for it Katsuki.”

“What? You scared or something?” Damn that blonde always knew how to push your buttons.

“Me? Scared of what? Kissing? Pfft.”

“Seems like you’re scared.” He says relaxing back into his seat and then his eyes grow wide and realization hits him. “Could this be..your first kiss?”

“WHAT NO- I mean- I’ve kissed plenty of boys before.”

“Then what’s the problem with kissing me?”

“You really want to do this?”

“I’m just trying to prove a point.” He shrugs.

You’re sitting there, cheeks flushed as you chew on your bottom lip and then you look up at him. His arm is now resting on the side of your seat and he’s dangerously close. Why was he ten times more handsome up close in a dark parking lot? Did the waiter spike your drink? Why were you suddenly dizzy and unable to breathe properly?

“Let’s get it over with then you idiot.” You sigh. You have to put up this fake act. You had to beat that cocky blonde at his own game. And you had to show him that he wasn’t the best at everything.

So he leans in and you do too. The smell of burnt caramel is stronger than ever and you swear it was intoxicating. Also, where did he get a mint from? Was he planning on doing this all along? Pressuring you into some kind of kissing competition because he knew you wouldn’t refuse? But that meant he would probably like you too. That couldn’t be..right?

But when his lips are on yours and your mouths are dancing together, there’s one thought that pops into your head.

Fuck. He was good.

One hand is under your chin, tilting your head up and the other is pulling you in deeper- closer, and you’re desperately trying not to melt into his hands. If he wasn’t careful, you’d probably let him know how head over heels in love you were.

He pulls away, his lips now pink and swollen, and he cocks an eyebrow. His face just screams it-was-great-wasn’t-it-? and you’re sitting there unable to even think straight.

“So?” He asks, folding his arms against his chest. He knows he won the argument and he knows he proved his point, so did he still need to ask? Oh. Because he’s Bakugou Katsuki.

“That..was kind of hot.” You admit. He’s laughing as your cheeks flush a bright red but you can’t get the feeling of his lips on yours out of your mind.

“So now that we’ve officially kissed, we should officially date as well.” He’s throwing you a glance as he buckles in his seatbelt but you’re too dazed to hear what he said.

“Hmm?” You question, your finger is on your bottom lip and your mind is attempting to wrap around the fact that you and the boy you’ve had a crush on for the past 7 months just kissed you.

“I said,” He leans over a second time, this time placing a small peck on your lips, “be my girl.”

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bnha x reader #bnha #mha #boku no hero #my hero academia #masterlist #bakugou katsuki #bakugou #bakugou katsuki x reader fluff #bnha x reader fluff

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salandition · 4 years

Note

hello I would like a MiloxReader story please. (we need more milo content in this world) Maybe reader is helping Milo out on the farm, it starts to thunderstorm, so they take shelter in a barn. There's some hay, they figure they could be there a while, where it goes is up to you 😎

A/N: milo is so pretty and i love milo very much so I'm very glad to write him........... thank u .,,, also i hate this i wrote it terribly but take it anyway

--- --- ---

As you lift another bale of hay, the hook sunk deep into the soft straws and helping you heave and carry it over your shoulder, you look up at the sky and start to think that there are more clouds than you remember when you last looked.

“Milo!” You call out, and from the other end of the field, Milo’s head raises to attention as he looks over. The two of you are surrounded by the vast fields of long grass and various crops, and beyond that is a fenced area with an abandoned barn that you and Milo are in the middle of trying to clear out. It’s old and dingy and needs several things fixed with the foundation and whatnot. “There’s only a few bales of hay left. Is there anything else that needs help?”

Milo smiles, “nice work!” And then he stands up straight, hands on his hips and under his chin as he ponders. “I think that’s the most of it. Maybe look for any stray Pokémon hiding around and tell them it’s time to move out if you can?”

You give him a thumbs up. “On it!” You shout, and you let the hay fall off your shoulder and onto the pile with the others you had moved out of the barn.

It was too much work to fix up something that’s old and moldy, Milo had decided. It was best to just clear it all out, get the materials that were still useful, and build a new barn somewhere nearby. It was a lot of work, so you (eagerly) decided to help him out. And it definitely was needed- with just the two of you, it’s already been several hours, and the sun that was blaring earlier made you sweat right through your shirt. The clouds that shifted by the past hour provided nice shade, though, so that was nice.

As you wander back into the barn, you swear you felt something drop on your neck and your eyebrows furrow as you look around, but you don’t see anything around you. So you shrug it off, walk in the barn and towards the few bales left sitting inside. Right as you sink the hay hook into the bale with a firm slash, a rumbling clap rings out in the air.

Your eyebrows furrow once again, lips pulling into a frown. When you look at the open barn doors, you gasp-

Because it’s raining in sheets outside, the clouds from earlier now an angry dark grey as they encompass the sky completely. How could the weather change so quick? You suppose the sun had disappeared a bit ago, but this was a bit excessive. You drop the hook and dash toward the doors, into the rain- “Milo!”

Your voice can hardly be heard over the sudden rush of storm, thunder clapping and thunder echoing as the rain pours, but you can see a flash of pink from ahead. And sure enough, it’s Milo- looking just as shocked as you as he runs toward the barn. Nervous laughter bubbles out of him once he makes it to your side and you quickly wrap your arms around his back, quickly leading him inside before you move to shut the barn doors so the storm doesn’t make it’s way inside.

But as the building creaks and sways, you have a feeling it’s really up to fate if you’re going to stay dry or not. You, at least- because Milo is already looking like a drowned Rattata as he stands in the corner and wrings out his sun hat. “Gosh, Milo,” you walk over to him and bite your lip as you take in just how drenched he is.

The Gym Leader meets your gaze and simply shrugs with a smile. “Pretty out of nowhere, huh?”

Another rumble of thunder with a bolt of lightning rings nearby, and both of you jump. You nervously laugh.

“My mom always told me to expect something unexpected every day,” you take Milo’s hat from his hands, moving to hang it up on one of the hooks in the wall meant for horses water buckets, but none are around, so it works just as fine as a hat rack. “So I guess this counts as today’s unexpected event.”

“Wise words,” Milo nods, crossing his arms at his chest. He looks like he’s probably trying to get comfortable, but it’s not really working. You can only be so comfortable when you’re in heavy, wet clothes.

Averting your gaze, you look at the dripping ceiling. “Do you know how long these storms usually last?”

“Considering how we weren’t supposed to have a storm today... It shouldn’t be that long. An hour or two at most,” Milo sighs. You trust his intuition and nod- an hour isn’t really that long, but at the same time, it kind of is.

Because it’s just you. And Milo. Alone in a barn. And did you ever mention how cute Milo is and how he’s really nice and you like him a lot?

Hm. A feeling like dread settles in your stomach as you cough.

“At least we still have some hay bales in here,” Milo breaks through your thoughts as he heads toward them, but hesitates to sit on it as he looks at his situation. You hum.

“You should probably- uh. You don’t want to get sick.”

Milo looks at you, but you’re too busy looking at the floor and kicking the dirt.

“I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he says, and your head quickly snaps up.

“I wouldn’t be uncomfortable!” You quickly tell him, “plus, that hardly matters. You’re soaked to the bone and I doubt it feels very good.” Milo averts his own eyes now, hardly looking convinced as he furrows his eyebrows. It’s definitely not ideal to strip yourself in front of someone else... How can you make this better..? “I bet there’s an old blanket or something like that in here. I can look around for one- but. Seriously. While I look around, you should at least take off your shirt. You don’t want to get a cold,” you give him a concerned look- definitely not blushing as you tell him to remove his clothes, because why would you be blushing- and then quickly turn around to look around the barn.

Since the entire building was in the process of being cleaned out, you doubt you’ll find much. But you have to at least try, for Milo’s sake and for yours. The first thing you do is climb the creaky ladder to the area up above. There was various items laying around, none looking promising.

But as you scout around, you find a chest that’s been shoved into the corner and hidden away. You quickly trot over to it and, crossing your fingers, dust off the latch and open it.

Laying inside is a bunch of old, miscellaneous items like candle sticks and even some pokeballs (all empty), and farming equipment too. It’s not until you get to the very bottom of the chest that you find- yes- a blanket!

“Milo!” You call out in glee as you take the old cloth out, standing tall and letting it unfold as you whip it through the air several times to get all the dust off. You cough as some of it gets in your face. “I found one!”

“Really?” Milo asks from below. “Where was it?”

“In some chest up here. So I guess I found some more stuff to move,” you quickly move down the stairs- as quick as you can, actually, without fearing that you’re going to break it from how loudly it groans under your weight. As soon as you’re back on the bottom floor with Milo, you open your arms proudly with an end to the blanket in each hand as you showcase your find.

Milo is very much not wearing a shirt, but you don’t focus on that part. Instead you focus on how Milo’s green eyes light up. “Oh! Would you look at that- I haven’t seen that blanket in years!”

“You recognize it?” You ask as you wrap the cover around his shoulders. Your fingers brush against each other for a second as he grabs the ends and tugs it around him. The simple action surely didn’t make your heart skip a beat- not at all.

Now that his shirt is discarded and he’s at least a fraction more dry, Milo sits on the hay bale and you take a place next to him. In the back of your mind, you’re grateful that it’s hay and not straw- straw is a lot more uncomfortable than hay is.

“The barn’s been around for awhile,” Milo comments as he gets comfortable. “And so have I. I’m pretty sure this used to be the old gym leaders, I’ve seen it once or twice as a child. What else did you find?”

“Some empty pokeballs, old candlesticks... a bunch of random stuff, honestly,”

“Sounds like him,” Milo huffs a laugh through his nose. “He was a bit of a hoarder. Not bad, though, considering it’s helping me now.”

You nod in agreement. Another strike of thunder and lightning is heard above- you and Milo both warily looking up at the ceiling as the building sways unsteadily against the harsh wind, and you unconsciously shiver, which doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Kind of cold...”

“Yeah,” you shrug, and you meet Milo’s gaze. He’s smiling awkwardly, tilting his head in such a way that- “No,” you quickly shake your head. “That completely defeats the purpose of the blanket. It’s yours, I’ll be fine!”

“Are you sure? It’s- not too big a deal,” Milo says, and you almost laugh.

“What happened to you? You were just as mortified as I was earlier,”

His face heats up a cute pink. “If it- if you’re uncomfortable- then I won’t push you! I just don’t want you to be cold!” The farmer shrinks a bit under his blanket.

“You’re sweet,” you try your best to give him a reassuring smile. “Do you really not mind?”

He quickly shakes his head. You’re not sure how to feel about how sure he is to ensure your comfort- offering you a blanket because you shivered even though he’s the one who’s still wet and shivering himself. You’re not sure how to feel about all of this, really- about Milo. And how kind he is. Biting your lip, you hum for a long time before it turns into a defeated sigh. “Fine. Open up,” you wiggle closer to him and Milo smiles as he lets you wiggle next to him, handing you the end of the blanket to wrap around yourself. Immediately, you feel the wet press of his skin against your clothes, but he’s surprisingly warm despite that.

Warm, wet, shirtless Milo... Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it.

“Did I ever tell you about the time I first caught a fire-type?”

Milo breaks the silence, and your head raises in interest as you look at him. “Really?” You ask, a bit surprised. “I didn’t know you had any.”

He nods. “It was actually because of a situation like this, actually. Believe it or not, I’ve been caught in a few storms. So, I thought- it sure would be handy to have someone who could help me in these situations, or at least help me stay warm!”

Milo proceeds to tell you a long and entertaining story about how he was a teenager, caught in a storm, and how he barely found a shed to hide in. He probably dragged the story on longer than it needed to be, and he did a lot of cute voices for the Pokemon and what he thought they were telling him when he was a kid, but it was appreciated how he completely caught your attention and whisked you away into his story. It didn’t feel as awkward to be pressed against him and it didn’t feel as worrisome whenever the wind blew on the barn again.

Instead it was just the two of you, sitting together on a pile of hay as you exchanged various stories from your lives. Laughing at the wild things that happened to you both. You should have expected this out of Milo- he always had a talent for turning an unsavory moment into a good one.

Though you’re having a feeling it’ll be awkward all over again when the storm finally settles and the two of you will have to untangle from your little warm hub beneath the blanket. But you’ll cross that bridge when you get to it.

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powerosewaterpuff · 3 years

Note

so one question , what happen after bruce " death "

okokok so first off thank you so so much for this, it def helped get my creative juices flowing (and i totally didn’t do this instead of study for my exams :) )! so, when it came to bruce’s death i wanted to do one scene/moment that kinda encapulasted all the emotions happening etc., and i’m assuming u meant in terms of my lil reverse robin au with jason being the oldest (i really should make this a series lol) so yeah, please enjoy and this legit was churned out at 2:04AM on the dot so yk its s h i t

••••••••••

It was the soft snoring that had tipped Jason off.

The sound slowly flowed through the winds and slipped into his ears, as he went from rooftop to rooftop, as he scoured closer to Wayne Manor. He had avoided his old ‘home’ like the plague, a plague so dark and twisted it could infect him by only a glance but for some reason he felt almost obligated to get at least one check or look.

Maybe, it was the off handed disparaging comment that Dick had made in patrol under this breath after settling a crime scene a little too close to Jason’s turf that no one had caught except him that was yanking his unwilling body to just check that everything was fucking peachy. It was just a check. He would be in and out with minimal harm done and no one would even have to see him, and he could quell this annoying little voice creaking on about how much he has failed Dick, blathering on and on about his so many shortcomings when it came to him.

He hadn’t exactly expected to find Dick curled in his civvies up on an old nook by one of the gargoyles perched on the roof and snoring away. It was a spot they had haunted a lot in their youth, and Dick would insist on pulling Jason out of the warm confines of his bed just to watch the sun come up from that very spot. Jason would moan and complain about it for a while but once he saw the iridescent sheen of the blazing sun rearing it’s head on the horizon, he would clamp his mouth shut to enjoy the view.

He examined Dick critically and weighed his odds objectively as he inched closer, each thunk of his boots a calculated risk he was annoyingly choosing to take. Dick was clearly safe in some capacity and if the little brats down below couldn’t find him they would eventually try the roof, so Jason couldn’t exactly pinpoint the reason why he was still moving closer, tense but still moving. It was almost like a snake, slithering forward with its defences high as it keeps itself on edge for any sudden movements.

He would’ve left. Jason was going to leave, he had already eased his fragile conscience as it was, and he knew that Dick wasn’t in any life threatening danger, (Unless the danger was Jason himself), but it wasn’t until he was close enough to cock his head to the side a bit to get a better angle on Dick’s face, when he stopped in his tracks.

Little tear tracks, almost vein like, had stained Dick’s cheeks. They weren’t even all that noticeable, but the sheer existence of them at all was enough to make Jason just stop.

(He had always had a hard time ignoring Dick’s tears, hadn’t he? When Dick would sprain an ankle, or get even the mildest of all mild concussions, and his eyes began to get this glassy sheen while he desperately tried to hide them, Jason would be unable to leave his side. He had almost sworn himself into the duty of making sure Dick didn’t cry. Oh, how fate fiddles with its toys.)

Swallowing hard, Jason’s eyes flickered around, doing one last sweep of his surroundings. He sighed, attaching his gun to the holster around his waist and crouched down on the balls of his feet next to Dick. He fucking despised how Dick almost realized he was next to him, and shifted his position. Leaning his head onto Jason’s shins.

Jason knew enough to keep his connection with Dick as thin as he possibly could, but he was too selfish to let it burn to the ground like all the countless bridges he had torched and scorned at. Knowledgeable enough to distance but too selfish to leave.

What a fucking motto that was.

Jason took yet another shaky sigh, a lot more haggard this time, as he rubbed his hands over the smooth material of his helmet. It grounded him, for a slip of a moment, as he tried to avert his eyes from Dick’s form that was rising and falling slowly. Every time he glanced over, he managed to find something else he hated.

The dark circles making stark holes under his eyes.

The pinched look pulling at his features.

Those stupid fucking tear stains that were just screeching at Jason.

(“Batman just saves everyone, doesn’t he?”)

The fact that everytime Jason blinked, an eerily green shade would overtake his vision, leaving the form next to him shifting and contorting between the man next to him and the little twelve year old he had left behind. Scorched in the flames of Jason’s symphony.

Jason fumbled to release himself from his helmet, as his mind played catch up woth his thoughts and he ignored the pulling at his chest. He shoved the helmet off as it fizzed away, and threw his head back to take clumsy gulps of air. The putrid smell of rotting flesh mixed with dirt was ripping through him, but he pushed it aside. As he always did.

You just couldn’t fucking leave, Todd. Why the fuck couldn’t you just leave, huh? Ironic, wasn’t it? You keep demanding people realize you’re a different creature from what you once were, yet you can barely differentiate between your twelve year old brother and the man whose morphed into everything you fucking hate. Why? Why are you here? Move. Move. Get up. Get the fuck up, Tod-.

“Y’know? You are such an asshole,” Jason croaked softly, shifting his eyes to see if Dick stirred but to no response.

“I know you don’t want this. I know that, so why are you still against m—,” Jason ran a hand through his hair and tugged at his roots slightly, “Batman saves everyone, huh? He doesn’t save you though, does he? No ones here to catch you when you fall anymore, and now you’re crying on a fucking roof.”

He curled his hands around his roots tighter, feeling the pull of his skin prickle at his mind, “You’re setting a bad example, Dick. What will your dearest little brats think about this performance? He never pulled shit like this. You know that, though. I know you do. That’s why you’re doing it in a little secret spot so that you can turn yourself around, and give that stupid smile that no one believes anyways. I always thought you were a little less predictable then that. I overestimated, clearly.”

Jason resolved to stare at the drying splatters of blood that adorned the soles of his shoes. He bit down the churning of acids in his stomach, a feeble attempt of his conscience to make him feel like shit. He had overestimated. He had. Dick wasn’t fucking better, it didn’t matter that he had tried to smother the Joker in an adrenaline high, because he was still as useless as Bruce. Jason was effective, he got shit done that no one else had the stomach to do and that was fine. He had far gotten over his pleading desire for Batman to avenge him, it was a fallacy of the boy who had become a rotting carcass under the confines of wood and shattering bones. Jason has become far more attuned to the reality of his situation, not the fallacy.

As the moon revealed itself from behind a long string of clouds, Jason once again glanced down at Dick. He snorted softly, as he saw a certain gleam in Dick’s waves of hair.

“God, do you still use that same pomade? I swear you got an allergy from that, did you not? Anyways it still fucking reeks, so you better take that shit off.”

Jason allowed himself to slowly unfurl his hands from almost tanking out tufts of his hair, as he felt the tightly wound rope around his chest unwind ever so slowly.

“Grayson? Grayson!”

The shrill tilt of a voice shoved Jason back into reality, and he was already setting his helmet into place, with his line soaring across the sky to another building. He cast a fleeting look at Dick, before he soared off into the sky before the little boy dressed in a jalabiya got the chance to peak his head into the little flap leading up to the roof.

Fin

(P.S. It really hadn’t been Jason’s ideal Friday night, by any means necessary. He had envisioned himself finally finishing Little Women, and being able to devour the next book that had ‘mysteriously’ shown by his door. Instead, he was roped into watching Miracle on 34th Street with a particular blue bird perched on the floor by his couch.

Bryon has just been complaining to Kris about his failed proposal attempt with Susan, when Jason caught onto the sound of soft breathing with a hint of a snore. He pushed himself out of his previous position, and peered down to find Dick slumped on the floor with his head resting on the side of Jason’s legs. He sighed, his lips twitching upwards as he didn’t dare move his legs from their spot.

He stretched his arms out out, to reach for both his book that was on the old coffee table as well as the remote. He smacked the end of the remote a few times, and slowly lowered the volume on the TV. (Dick had once told him he never really liked sleeping in complete silence, it bothered him to some extent). He then flipped to the page he had stopped on, slowly pulling out an old but pristine bookmark that Jason and Bruce had made once, and gently placed it next to him. He leaned back, resting his aching back as his eyes flickered over the words of the novel, all the more aware of the presence by his feet but he found himself not minding all that much. He knew this kind of calming bliss was only temporary with the ‘clan’ they had but he savoured it with all he had.

...The children are regular archangels, and I-well, I’m Jo, and never shall be anything else. Oh, I must tell you that I came near having a quarrel with Laurie...(P.267 of Little Women.)

•••

SOOO THATS IT THIS TOOK SO MUCH LONGER THAN I WANTED I AM SO SORRY! i’m pretty pleased with how it turned out and even though it’s not a series of hc’s per say i wanted to kinda encapsulate everything yk? also damian wears a jalabiya please let this child be connected to his culture for my sanity and his (my little egyptian-canadian ass needs this o k?) also my plan is to do a lil christmas fic with bruce and dick but u h h i have shitty time management skills lEMME TELL UUU I STILL HAVE WAY TOO MUCH UNFINISHED SHIT IN AO3 T-T BUT ANWAYS THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH FOR READING THIS WAS HELLA FUN TO DO :)!!

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justahopelessssromantic · 4 years

Note

If u can a request for angel Reyes about you guys having a mixed baby and how he is as a father to a newborn and a toddler??

*I’m really feeling the fluff today so here’s this one too! I hope it’s everything you were hoping for and more!😊 Ugh Daddy Angel is making my angsty heart go soft 🥺❤️*

*gif not mine*

Warnings: Just lots and lots of fluff.

The sun shined brightly in the big blue sky as you sat on your blanket under the blissful shade of the large oak tree. The joyous sounds of children surrounded you as you watched your three year old son running around laughing amongst the other children bringing a smile to your face.

Angel watched you as you watched your son play. He grinned as he took in how beautiful you were, legs out and crossed at your ankles as you were leaning back on one arm the other placed protectively on your sleeping newborn between you.

You were so stunning and you were all his. The day the two of you got married was one of the best days of his life, tied with the days you brought his two children into this world.

He soaked in all of your features, like he had done so many times before. He started at your dazzling eyes, then down the curve of your nose, to those delicious lips of yours, by far one of his favorite features.

You glanced over at your gawking husband, “Can I help you?” You asked, quirking an eyebrow at him.

“Nah,” he shook his head, licking his lips, “Just enjoying the view on this beautiful day, mi dulce.”

You blushed, his compliments never failing to make you feel like that young girl again who met him all those years ago.

You leaned over the sleeping bundle as he grabbed the back of your head gently bringing you close for a kiss, smiling into it.

Your little girl began to squirm between you and you both pulled away eyeing the small being, careful to see what her next move might be. She settled back down still in a deep sleep, a smile twitching on the corner of her lips, and you both relaxed.

“Fuck,” Angel breathed out as he stared at his little girl, so beautiful and already looking so much like her mother, her skin matching yours beautifully and her tiny features looking more and more just like yours as the days passed “You gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.”

“What?” You asked, eyeing him suspiciously, while still being very aware of your son out of the corner of your eye.

“She looks just like you,” he mused.

You let out a laugh, “And that’s a problem? I certainly don’t want her to look like you,” you teased.

“Damn straight it’s a fuckin’ problem,” he said looking back at you, “I could hardly keep my eyes off you let alone my hands, those little fuckers are gonna be all over her. I wish she looked more like me, then I’d never have to worry about some asshole thinking he can get whatever he wanted from her.” He grumbled.

You laughed shaking your head, “You can’t expect her to never date anyone Angel. I’m sure if she ever brings a boy home one look at you and the kid would never dare to try anything,” you reassured him, placing your hand gently on his face, “And we don’t have to worry about any of that for a while now, yeah? Let’s just enjoy these moments while they are still little.”

He smiled, “How’d I get so lucky to find you, mi amor?”

Your little one started wiggling more in her sleep now as she started to fuss waking from her nap. Angel scooped her up into his arms cradling her lovingly, “What’s wrong mi princesa,” he cooed, “You hungry?” He guessed as she was usually hungry after a nap.

Reaching into the diaper bag beside you you pulled out her nursing blanket and began situationing the fabric across your body. Once you were all set he carefully passed her to you helping you situate her comfortably before straightening out the blanket around the two of you.

“At least that’s one thing she got from me,” he smirked, “We both love mommy’s boobies.”

You rolled your eyes at the big goofy man you were fortunate to call yours, smiling all the same. “Would you do me a favor and make yourself useful,” you teased.

He mocked hurt from your statement placing a hand to his chest, “I’m always useful.”

You shook your head giggling, “Go be bad cop and get your son to come eat some lunch.”

“Yes ma’am,” he replied standing up and sauntering off in search of the little him he had running around the play equipment.

You watched as he found him and scooped up the screaming child who didn’t want to stop playing with his new friends before swinging him over his shoulder giving him a couple spins on the way back turning the screams of displeasure to screams of laughter.

He set the giggling boy down carefully before stumbling down onto the blanket acting like he got too dizzy and fell over. Your child ate up his dad's silliness and giggled more before climbing on top of him sitting firmly on his chest.

Sometimes you felt as if you had three children.

“Alright, alright,” he laughed, picking the boy off his chest and sitting him down on the blanket. Grabbing the cooler he began dividing out the sandwiches you had prepared earlier that morning. Taking the crustless peanut butter and grape jelly he unwrapped it and handed it to the eager toddler before setting out the containers of fruits and vegetables you had packed as well.

He opened another peanut butter and jelly taking a bit of one half of it before extending the other half out to you for you to take a bite. Feeding himself and you as you fed your little girl.

You were forever grateful for him. He always took care of you and his family doing his best to put you first, taking time off to just be together. He doted on you hand and foot the whole time you were pregnant and any help you needed with the kids he was always there for you.

You were a team and in this together completely.

You ate in silence, your toddler making a few silly noises as he played while he ate his food. Two sandwiches and a bunch of carrots down and he peered into the cooler searching around.

“What are you looking for buddy?” You asked, if the cooler was big enough he’d probably crawl right in.

“Another sandwich,” he mumbled, still digging around.

“Another sandwich?!” Angel exclaimed, “You already had two, little man.” He pulled the boy into his lap.

“Still hungry Papi,” he said giggling as his dad began lifting his arms and “searching” his son.

“Where the hell you hiding it?” He teased, “there’s no way you ate all that food and are still hungry.”

“Here, here Papi!” He shouted, pulling up his shirt and pointing excitedly to his belly.

“In there? Where?” He began looking closely at the boy's small belly acting like he was looking through his belly button, “I don’t see anything… wait!” He said grinning, “I see something!”

“You do?!” The boy squealed, “What is it Papi?!”

“Oh no,” Angel said dramatically pausing for extra suspense, “It’s the tickle monster!” He then began tickling the small boy relentlessly, resulting in screams and laughter that made your heart soar with love.

Your daughter, now done feeding, you situated yourself back up before removing the blanket and setting a towel on your shoulder, burping her gently.

Angel was still tickling your son when you thought it was time to intervene, “Enough Angel, you’re gonna make him sick.”

He sat back up releasing the boy, both breathless from the laughter, “Mami’s right. You’re safe, for now.” He teased, the boy's eyes going wide.

Your daughter cooed a few times as you snuggled her into your arms catching the attention of your little boy. He scooted over to you real close, looking at his little sister in awe. “I love you hermanita,” he said softly, tickling her chubby cheeks gently before kissing her forehead.

Pulling his phone out from his cut Angel snapped a quick photo of the three of you while you were unaware, looking down at your two children. He would cherish the little moments like these forever and set the photo as his new home screen so he could look at it whenever he was missing his family.

“Shit,” he said looking at the time, “We better get going.” He started packing up your things as you gathered up the children, setting your daughter into her stroller.

You were supposed to bring the kids over to Felipe’s tonight. He and Ezekiel were always good about watching the two of them so that you and Angel had some alone time every now and then.

The both of you were very thankful for that.

The two of you got everything packed up, Angel swung the diaper bag over his shoulder and expertly pushed the stroller while carrying the cooler in his other hand, you walking behind him with your son on your hip.

Once you got to the car he buckled her up into her car seat as you did the same for your son. You turned on the car and blasted that air conditioning as Angel put the rest of your things in the truck, joining you in the driver's seat once he was done.

He placed his hand on your thigh giving it a squeeze, “I love you.” He said softly meeting your eyes.

“I love you too.”

—————————————————————————————————————

Pulling up to Felipe’s you got out of the car and opened the trunk as you were greeted by EZ. He pulled you into a side hug kissing your forehead as he grabbed for the children’s overnight bags, “Let me.”

Stepping aside you let him take the things into his father's house and you went back to the backseat unbuckling your son and scooping his limp sleeping body into your arms, cradling his head against your shoulder.

Angel unhooked the car seat and closed the doors of the car following you up the path and into his childhood home.

Once inside Felipe greeted you both, hugging you and giving his grandchildren a kiss. You laid the boy down on the sofa and turned back to the Reyes’ men, “Thank you so much again for doing this,” you said to Felipe and EZ.

“Of course,” Felipe smiled at you. He loved having his grandchildren around, it reminded him of simpler days when his own children were young and his wife was still around. He knew Marisol would have loved you and wished she could be here with him to enjoy in the spoils of being a grandparent, “It’s what family is for.”

“Well luckily the little man tuckered himself out pretty good so he should be easy at least until morning,” Angel said, setting your daughter down, “And my little angel shouldn’t be so bad either.”

“Um everything should be in the bags and if you have any troubles at all just call,” you began telling the two men.

“We got this,” EZ said reassuringly, “Now go, enjoy the night off.” He smiled, patting his brother on the shoulder, and giving you another hug.

You said your goodbyes, kissing your sleeping children before heading back home for some much needed quality time.

Angel practically carried you into your house making a beeline to the bedroom with only one thing on his mind.

He laid you out across the bed and worshipped every part of your body, treating you like the queen you were, and when you were both satiated, breathless and tangled up together in bliss he secretly hoped he had knocked you up once more.

Everything Taglist: @jad3djay @fairygardenss

#angel reyes #angel reyes imagine #mayans mc #mayans mc imagine #requests

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iplaymatchmaker · 3 years

Note

(2) my mbti is infp-t and the last time i did the pottermore test i got a ravenclaw, so there's that! oh and i'm also quite introverted so you won't find me in rowdy places like a party or concert. i don't do great with people who force me out of my comfort zone, people who aren't decisive and aren't the communicative type (i get anxious trying to guess what they mean and overthink). for the prompts i'd like bonding and fairytale au for cinderella! thank you so much! o(≧▽≦)o -juice

Hello, thanks again for requesting Juice! Once again, sorry for the delay. This is the ikerev part of your ask. I’m sorry in advance for the rushed ending of the second prompt, I didn’t want to take even longer writing an entire fic and thought this was a good place to leave it. I hope you like it!

I match you with

Sirius!

When you first arrive in Cradle you are wary of the army officers, but the warm environment makes it easy to relax and be yourself. You quickly grow close with the Queen, Sirius. Your friendship begins when you catch him watering the flowers in the courtyard. You are surprised at first, considering your first impression of him, but that is quickly forgotten as he rambles to you about the importance of maintaining the garden, even with a war in the horizon.

Despite his busy schedule, the two of you spend a lot of time together, and it quickly becomes apparent that you are compatible. The black army headquarters has always been a lively place, curtsey of Fenrir and Seth, but Sirius is glad to have another cheerful voice around, especially when it’s paired with your friendly chatter.

While you dislike showcasing your worries and insecurities, Sirius is always quick to read you and tries his best to lift your spirits without pressuring you to talk when you’re not ready.

You spend a lot of time exploring each other’s interests, as he introduces you to the ways of Cradle and you teach about him about the Land Reason. At first he tries to blame this on simple curiosity, but the reality of it is, he enjoys listening to you talk about the things you’re passionate about, sometimes wishing he could make your eyes light up the same way they do when you discuss your favorite books, although he won’t tell you that.

You finally confess your feelings, moments before the full moon rises and the portal back to your world appears. Until that moment, when Sirius’ hand wrapped around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks, you thought he didn’t return your feelings. It wasn’t until then that he expressed to you how much he wanted you to stay. “I know it’s selfish, but I want you to stay by my side!” All the pieces fell into place as he wrapped his arms around you, your bodies so close you could feel his pounding heart, realizing he must’ve run to catch up with you. “I will.”

Prompt: Bonding

It was hard to contain your excitement as you walked the narrow streets of Cradle, your hand not leaving Sirius’ as you looked at the shop windows.

“Look at that dress!” You pulled him along, hearing him chuckle behind you, not daring to complain as you dragged him inside the store.

You had agreed on this shopping trip a few days ago, on one of the rare days Sirius was staying in your room instead of the opposite. Your attention had been solely focused on your book for about an hour when he spoke up.

“We should go out on Saturday.” While he was always thoughtful, he didn’t often suggest outings, considering his packed schedule.

“Aren’t you on patrol with Fenrir on Saturday?” you couldn’t deny your excitement at the prospect of spending time with Sirius, but you didn’t want to burden him,

“I have already spoken with him. With Amon gone, there isn’t too much work for us during patrol. He can handle it on his own. So what do you say?”

“Okay!” You nodded, pulling him closer as you set your book aside.

While you enjoyed your time trying new clothes and browsing the bookshelves around the shops, you couldn’t help but feel guilty that Sirius was spending his day off following you doing things you enjoyed, despite his reassuring words.

“Don’t worry about me, I can keep up.”

You decided to take a break at one of the nearby cafes for much needed rest. You tried your best to read him but you had difficulty guessing what he was thinking.

“So, are you having fun?” you were taken aback by his question, considering he was letting you take him around town to all the places you wanted to visit.

“Of course I am! The weather is wonderful today too.” You took a bite of your desert, hoping to successfully bury your worries where he couldn’t see them.

“I can tell when something is bothering you, you know.” It didn’t seem to fool him. You sighed before reaching out to cover his hand with yours.

“I just want you to enjoy today too. This is your day off, we should be doing something you enjoy.” He squeezed your hand, his smile not faltering.

“Seeing you having fun is more than enough joy for me.” You could tell there was something he wasn’t telling you but you decided to leave it alone, not wanting to ruin the day.

“Thanks Sirius.”

By the time you returned to headquarters the sun had set and both of you were exhausted. After a quick shower you found Sirius outside, carefully inspecting a batch of purple and white flowers in the garden.

“What’s that one?” You stand next to him, wrapping your overcoat tighter around yourself.

“Night Phlox. They’ve almost bloomed. They have a very strong but pleasant smell when you plant many of them near each other.” He smiled, wrapping his arms around you, shielding you from the cold.

“What do they mean?”

“They can mean all sorts of things, but the most widely accepted meaning is partnership, harmony and unity. Pretty spot on for the black army, don’t you think?’ you smiled, enjoying listening to him talk about something with such care.

“Yeah.” The sound of the wind against the leaves was the only thing breaking the silence until you spoke up.

“Hey Sirius, why were you so intent on making today all about me?” there was no accusation in your voice, a simple question spoken under the night sky, a time where people can be honest, without hiding their troubles.

“We spend a lot of time at headquarters because of my job, doing things that I’m comfortable with. I just wanted to spend a day bonding over something you enjoy doing.” He tightened your arms around him, placing a quick kiss on his lips.

“You know I love spending time with you, no matter what we’re doing.”

“And I love seeing you happy.” Your eyes locked and an overwhelming feeling of joy spread through you.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Prompt: Cinderella AU

It was becoming increasingly difficult to mask your disdain as ambitious men reached out every few minutes, attempting to make conversation. You could offer them more than a smile and a kind word, knowing that everyone there had an ulterior motive.

“An organized ball where the goal is to woo me isn’t exactly a romantic story now isn’t it?” you didn’t want to deny your father’s wishes, knowing there was pressure as he grew older for you to find a husband, but it was still hard to accept that you would never have the chance to live a fairytale-love story, like those you read about in books.

“What you need is a secure future. This is for your own good.”

You knew that if you were to achieve that goal, you would need to interact with the men at the ball, but the context of the celebration made hard to relax, let alone do so in a room full of people.

“Daughter, this is a ball. Should you not be dancing?” your father’s voice was full of concern, despite his previous incitement.

“Yes, I will do that, father.” Not wanting to upset him, you smiled before setting off towards the middle of the room as the band started playing a quick valse. You looked around for a partner when you felt strong arms around, pulling you along with the other dancers.

“I’m sorry if that was out of line, you looked a little lost.” When you looked up to see the face of your partner, your words died in your throat. He stood quite a bit taller than you and his eyes were a deep shade of purple, unlike anything you had seen before.

“U-um, yeah.” You tried not to forget the steps as the two of you moved along, not wanting to make a fool of yourself, tripping over your skirts.

“So, how come the princess herself finds a moment alone during a ball in her honor?” despite his teasing words, you could tell he felt out of place in the crowded room.

“I’m not sure I’d consider this an honor… “ concern imideately painted his features but you didn’t want to bother a guest with your own issue.

“So, where are you from? I don’t believe we have met before.” You run a mental list of acquaintances from the local noble houses but you didn’t remember seeing him before.

“I’m… “ his voice trailed off, leaving you with many burning questions.

“I’m Sirius, Sirius Oswald.” He smiled, the uncertainty from moments before replaced with a warm smile.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” You smiled at him, deciding not to pressure him for answers he didn’t want to give.

“You never answered my question” he spun you as the music sped up, taking you by surprise.

“You didn’t answer mine either.” A playful smile played on your lips.

“I suppose I can’t deny that.” Through the bur around you, you could see that the rest of the couple had left the dance floor, placing the two of at the center of the attention.

“Everyone is looking at us.” A faint blush appeared on your cheeks a you danced together.

“They are looking at you.” He smiled at you, his grip on your waist tightening.

“Are you ready?”

“For what?”

Before you could question him further, you were in the air, your dress spinning around you. Time seemed to slow down, a feeling of freedom flowing through you. From your position you could see the faces of the party-goers but in that moment it didn’t matter. It was just you and him, a scene right out of a fairytale.

When he set you down, your cheeks were flushed, heart pounding in your chest. You barely registered the music slowly fading away as they switched to a softer sound.

“Thank you for the dance.” His hand left yours, while his warmth sill lingered.

“My lady.’ He bowed before turning to leave.

“Wait! Could I see you again?” you resisted the urge to grab his hand, not wanting to make a scene.

“I’m not sure that would be the best idea.” You tried to speak up but your voice was drowned out by the surrounding noise, so you could only watch as he moved further and further away, before eventually disappearing in the crowd, leaving you alone, with only a brief memory to look back to.

Rumors of the charming man who danced with the princess could be heard all around town during the next few days. You tried to keep your head low as you walked around the stalls, looks for the right shop.

When you opened the door, a bell sounded, announcing your arrival.

“Hello. How could I help you?” A tall man stood at the back of the room, watering a patch of white flowers. You looked around the room to ensure you were alone before removing your hood, still unsure of whether this was a good idea.

“P-princess.” He fell into a quick bow, not daring to look at you.

“Hello Mr. Oswald.” He hesitantly raised his head, looking over the cloak covering your dress.

“Just call me Sirius. How did you find me?” an awkward smile appeared on his lips.

“I told you I wanted to see you again. Plus, after you told me your name, it wasn't very hard to find you.” You stepped closer, looking at the assortment of flowers around you.

“So this is where you’re from.” You were only teasing, but he seemed to have misunderstood.

“I’m sorry to disappoint you. I wanted to keep up the illusion but the you came here and..” you were taken aback by his genuine apology.

“N-no, I’m not disappointed!.”

“You aren’t?” You nodded, trying to express your feelings as best you could.

“No, I’m not. Why would I be?’ he run a hand through his hair, messing it up more than before.

“I’m just a commoner. And you’re a princess. There is no reason for you to be interested…” you shook your head firmly.

“I didn’t want to meet you again because I thought you were a noble. I just... I want to feel what I felt when we danced together again.” You were expecting him to laugh at you, but he only looked back in awe.

“W-was that odd? I apologize, I just-“ he didn’t allow you to finish.

“No! It’d not off, I’m just… surprised. I don’t have much to offer to a princess.” he fidgeted with the hem of his apron, eyes glued to the ground.

“Could you perhaps offer me some of your time? I would like to get to know you better.” A smile slowly formed on his face.

“Alright then. Who am I to say no to the princess after all?”

“Thank you.” You smiled at each other, excited to see where this would lead you.

You spent a lot of time together after that, slowly getting to know more about each other. When you introduced him to your father, he was admittedly hesitant at the idea of you not marrying a noble, but when he saw how happy the two of you were together, he couldn’t deny you your wishes.

“You have my blessing. You better take care of my daughter young man.”

“Always, sir. I love your daughter more than anything.” He placed a kiss on you hand, a promise of greater things to come.

“And I you.” Happiness overflowed you as your lips met in a light kiss, sealing the truth of your words.

#ikerev #ikerev matchup #ikemen revolution #ikerev sirius #sirius oswald #cybird ikemen #ikemen series

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consumedkings-archive · 3 years

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@shallow-gravy jess..... jess jess jess...... where do i even begin huh? what do i even say? you are the sweetest, the most obnoxiously talented, and i just!! hm!! i just really adore you all to tiny bits and pieces. merry christmas my beloved friend, thank you so much for all of your love and support and listening to my ramblings, for loving my girl elliot, for letting me gush over diana. the list really do be endless!! i could probably wax poetic about how grateful i am to have made a friend as wonderful as you, but in the interest of time, i will just say: thank you thank you thank you! and merry christmas!

ii. a venom dripping in your mouth

elliot honeysett/john seed/deputy diana baker, the unholy trinity, in full-fledged terroristic force. this is pure self-indulgent trash, and i can’t believe this is an acceptable christmas gift to give you but i so hope you like it!

canon? who is she. i don’t know her. herald!elliot au, largely canon divergent but like it doesn’t REALLY matter bc i don’t go into detail that much. idk man just roll with it

words: 8.8k because i’m incapable of having any Chill

warnings: naughty language, some blood warnings, mentions of past trauma. nothing super explicit but like idk when elliot and john set their sights on diana i do think they need a warning of their own lmao. also, i guess i should warn i don’t know how anything works ever and don’t come for me, don’t drag me, this is supposed to just!!! be fun!!! thanks!!!

“Who the fuck is that?”

Burke’s crossing the street with Pratt and the rookie in tow. Diana drags a few feet ahead, smoking and attempting to not be a part of the conversation, which is hard to do when there’s only a handful of them at the office anyway.

Pratt glances up at the blonde they’re about to pass. She’s propped against the hood of a jeep, the hem of her daisy dukes barely reaching mid-thigh, taking a long drag of a cigarette. He notices the head of a snake tattoo coming down her thigh. It’s hot; the air is buzzing with bugs and heat from the midday sun, and Burke can feel the sweat collecting in the hollow of his collarbones and at the nape of his neck.

From here Burke can tell she’s not looking at them—she’s looking at Diana. Hungrily.

“Elliot Honeysett,” Pratt replies, keeping his voice low, and he spits on the ground. “John’s wife. Fucking psycho.”

Ah. A Seed, Burke thinks, with no absence of venom. A Seed but with her own last name. An uninteresting but unexpected detail.

“You know her, rookie?” Burke asks, looking over at Diana. The brunette stares at him and drops her cigarette to the ground, grinding it out with her shoe.

“No,” Diana replies shortly. “I’m not from here.”

She says it like that’s supposed to explain it, like that’s going to make it make sense why the blonde’s eyes are fixed on her, and of course it doesn’t.

“I went to school with her,” Pratt offers up, and Burke looks at him curiously.

“Yeah? She a psycho then, too?”

“Nah.” The deputy crosses his arms over his chest, refusing—pointedly—to look at Elliot even once after identifying her the closer they get. “John made her that way.”

Diana’s been quiet, lighting up a second cigarette, when she says, “I dunno. To join a cult you've probably gotta have that shit in you all along.”

Burke makes a low noise of agreement. He watches Elliot wiggle her fingers at Diana in a little wave as the cluster of them nears, flashing a most pretty smile; at first glance, he thinks that the blonde looks more bubblegum than cyanide, all curled hair tucked up in a high pony and red cupid’s-bow lips and white, white teeth.

“Howdy, deputy,” she calls, Southern drawl honeyed.

Diana visibly grimaces, pointedly pushing her gaze forward and fixing it on the office. There’s a split second where Burke thinks he sees something flash across her face, but she’s stuffed it down and the sharp lines of her expression smooth out.

And then Elliot looks at him. Burke waves, but he doesn’t smile—it’s not meant to be nice, it’s meant to relay the message that he sees her. When she regards him expectantly, he goes ahead and greets, “Mrs. Seed."

I fucking know you. No surname fuckery is going to throw Burke off the scent. There are so many boogeymen and monsters in the world that don’t want you to know their name, and he thinks Elliot Honeysett might be one of them.

She doesn’t stop smiling at the misnaming, necessarily—her expression smooths out into mild amusement—and then she opens her mouth and pushes the lit end of her cigarette onto her tongue. Pratt says, under his breath, “Jesus Christ,” and Burke thinks he can hear the sizzle for a split second before it’s out, and then she tosses the cigarette to the side.

“Marshal,” she greets him, and he slows his walk for just a moment. “Lookin’ a little flush. You not used to the hot weather, honey?”

“It’s cooling off up in D.C.,” he replies, keeping his tone conversational despite the urge to punch those pearly whites in, “but I used to come here every summer. Nothing I can’t handle.”

Elliot smiles. It’s all teeth. Burke thinks about how most animals do that as a threat. “Good. I’d hate for you to be uncomfortable.” And then her gaze turns to Pratt, and she says flatly, “Pratt.”

“Honeysett,” Staci returns, and he might not have been able to sound more disingenuous, but it’s well-deserved—the blonde makes no effort to hide her disdain. She rolls her eyes, mouth twisting in amusement before she swings around the front of her jeep and into the driver’s seat.

Like he can’t resist the blatant dismissal, Pratt tacks on, “Tell the hubby I said hello.”

The engine revs. Burke watches her pop a pair of blue shades on, leaning against the rolled-down window. “Eat shit, bud,” Elliot says, and smiles just before she kisses the air in Burke’s direction and pulls a hard u-turn. The tires squeal on sizzling pavement, and she waves at them through her open window before she speeds off.

Burke watches the receding vehicle and says, “They all that peachy? Can I plan on Joseph being a fuckin’ breeze?”

“Fuckin’ whatever,” Pratt says, biting the words out as Diana swings the door open. “She’s all golden princess until you get close enough to see she’s picking the wings off of flies. Why’s she so interested in you, rookie?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Diana snaps. “I don’t know what goes on in that psycho’s brain.”

Burke grimaces.

“Might do well to find out,” he says, “before we learn the hard way.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“John.”

He makes a low noise, staring at the map stretched out before him; it’s his first mistake, because Elliot has never been very patient when she has something to say, and this time is no different. She ducks under his arm and settles herself on the table, on the map, effectively breaking his eyesight with the thing which is keeping him perfectly and completely unfocused on her.

“Do you remember what you said to me when we got married?” she asks him, her voice suspiciously light and unfettered by the usual components of her timbre—like venom, or sharpness. Elliot skims her fingers along the skin exposed by the undone buttons of his shirt.

He watches her. She’s up to something. “I remember every single thing I’ve ever told you,” he replies, stifling his amusement, “and I said many things. Which are you referring to?”

“Pick one and try.”

The neckline of her tank top brushes the bottom of her Wrath scar, the jagged lines marring what was otherwise perfectly unblemished skin. What game are you playing? he thinks, but not without affection, digging his thumb past those little shorts she likes so much. “How about... ‘I can’t wait to rip this fucking dress off of you’?”

“Try again.”

Ah, so that kind of game. Not the sexy kind. “‘I’m going to give you anything you want’?” He says it with a border of cautioning, because Elliot doesn’t cash that line in very often, but when she does it’s almost always for something big. She’s in a mood tonight, this wife of his, the kind of mood that he’d normally like to take advantage of if he wasn’t busy trying to make sure they keep eyes on the Marshal.

Elliot beams at him. “You know me so well, handsome,” she murmurs, and tugs him down by the front of his shirt for a kiss; luxurious, open-mouthed, and slick, and then against his mouth she says, “I want the deputy.”

“For what?” John asks. “Dinner? She’s been around that Marshal, who’s almost certainly here for something to do with Joseph.” When the blonde blinks at him, as if this has no bearing on her request, he barks out a laugh. “You’re asking too much.”

“You said anything.” Elliot pulls back to look at him, fingers still fisted in his shirt.

“I did,” he says, slowly.

“So,” the blonde murmurs silkily, “get her for me.” And then, as though she is the most gracious: “Consider her a belated wedding gift.”

John exhales out of his nose. He’s hard-pressed to say no to Elliot, but he’s got the sneaking suspicion that this is one of the instances where he should. It’s not like Elliot ever asks for anything that’s really unreasonable—not usually—but this? He could get her just about anyone, and she wants Diana Baker?

“For what?” he asks again, brows furrowing as Elliot undoes the rest of the buttons of his shirt so that she can drag her nails against his abdomen. “What could you want the rookie deputy for, hm?”

“Does it really matter?” she prompts, looking up at him through her lashes, and he thinks no, not really, but he knows better.

“Yes,” he replies, the corner of his mouth ticking upward. “It does matter. Really. I’m going to have to pitch this to Joseph and Jacob.”

“I like her,” Elliot says without hesitation. That’s how it always goes—John will push as long as he has to, until he doesn’t anymore, because they always give each other what they want. In the end. “And we could use her.”

He scans her face. Elliot doesn’t say she likes someone without merit. He’s come to trust that she’s got an eye for people, even if he can’t always see it—and he doesn’t see it, not really, in a fresh-in-town junior deputy that’s in over her head.

For a second, he thinks about it; it wouldn’t be the first time that they’ve allowed a third party, but it would be one of few times that she’s chosen, which is different in and of itself. If he knows her at all—and he does—she doesn’t usually pick unless she intends to keep them around for a long while.

“I’ll consider it,” John says finally. “After tomorrow.”

A smile curves her mouth. She slides her arms around him and kisses his sternum, just beneath his own sin, revealed—a pair, the two of them, closer than just lovers.

“That’s all I ask,” Elliot murmurs sweetly as his thumb sweeps the slope of her cheekbone.

It’s not, John thinks, but he thinks it with love, because he does—he loves his wretched little viper, this monster that looks at him through her eyelashes and says things like, I want her, so get her for me.

It’s not all you ask, but that’s just fine.

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“Absolutely not.”

Jacob is the first to speak after John’s proposition, which is not uncommon. The eldest brother does tend to be the most unforgiving, John finds, of his wife’s aspirations; even though, between all of his siblings, Elliot and Jacob get along the best.

John heaves a sigh. “Elliot is convinced that the deputy can be of use to us, if she’s allowed to—”

“Your wife,” Joseph interrupts, “shows a great lack of self-control asking such a thing.”

John bites back the gut-instinct response—that Elliot shows the most control for asking, rather than just taking what she wants, because as a woman capable of it, she can—and instead swallows back, “She would like to serve the Project, Joseph. In this way.”

“Maybe I wanted the deputy,” Jacob drawls. “Didn’t you ever think of that?”

Turning his gaze to his eldest brother, John says, “Well, have you expressed that to our brother, Jacob?”

“It didn’t occur to me until now,” the redhead replies, feigning an air of innocence. “But now I think I do.”

He can feel his teeth grinding. “Funny, that until Elliot showed an interest—”

“Yes,” Joseph acquiesces after a moment. “You and our most holy sister may pursue the deputy by your own means, but you must—” And here he looks at John, pointed. “—let the love into your heart, brother.”

A wash of relief crashes over him; after the fucking shit show that the last evening had been, John thinks that it’ll be good to bring some good news back to Elliot, who’s been itching to get out into the thick of the madness. Even if Joseph seems to be implying he doesn’t want their typical means used, that’s fine. Open to interpretation, right?

“I want the deputy brought to heel, John,” Joseph continues. “It is crucial for the survival of not only us, but also our people, that you show you are capable of doing this.”

“Of course,” John replies, smiling. “Elliot and I would do anything for you.”

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When the junior deputy finally comes to, Elliot is sitting across from her. Diana makes a low, vicious sound as she lifts her head and fixes Elliot with her eyes—lovely eyes, Elliot thinks admiringly, while her molars grind and the noise vibrates through her head. John’s reluctantly left her alone; he thinks he should be the one to soften Diana for her, but Elliot thinks John’s just going to push her farther away.

“Good morning, sugar,” she greets, and Diana spits onto the floor.

“Fuck you.”

“Yes,” Elliot replies sweetly, “if you behave.”

Diana’s eyes flutter for a moment, like she isn’t expecting that so soon and so fast—but certainly she expected it in some respect, because Elliot’s been purposefully obvious about her intention for the deputy, to both Diana and John. She doesn’t want a mindless convert, dulled and emptied out by Bliss and agreeing blindly.

Her fingers itch. She tugs absently at the sleeve of her sweater, rolling her chair forward as the brunette pulls at her binds.

“What the fuck did you do with Hudson?” Diana grinds out.

“I wouldn’t worry about her,” Elliot dismisses, and waves her hand. “She’ll be just fine.”

There’s a brief moment where the brunette looks at her, sweeps sharp, green eyes over Elliot and she cocks a half-done smile at her before she says, “Yeah, Joey told me all about you.”

Elliot smiles. “Only good things, I’m sure.”

“Said you’re a fucking bitch.” Diana arches a brow loftily. “A nutjob.”

“That checks out.”

Diana spits on the floor again, ridding her mouth of the blood from her rough handling, but this time she spits it out at Elliot’s feet. Elliot sighs and tucks some hair behind her ear just before Diana asks, “So, what’s the plan here, princess?”

She blinks at the deputy. She's a little pleased at the pet name, but she doesn't want to let it show. “Plan?”

“Yeah,” Diana says, rolling her eyes. “C’mon, I’m not fucking stupid. What’s the plan? What’s the dynamic? John sends you in because you’re the pretty one, soften me up, and then he comes in to finish the job and cleanse my sins or what the fuck ever it is he thinks he’s doing?”

Elliot feigns bashfulness and flutters her lashes. “You think I’m pretty?”

“Fucking come on,” Di bites out viciously. “Whatever the ploy is, get it over and done with.”

It’s no fun when you say it like that, she thinks, but she can tell Diana’s sort of at her limit—not quite, because if this was her limit, then Elliot would have greatly overestimated her—but she’s getting there. Residual Bliss still burning through her system, and for what? For her to have more of an attitude? How well she’d chosen.

“There’s no ploy, Diana,” Elliot says after a moment, leaning back in her chair. “John wanted to cleanse you his way—I told him no.”

The deputy regards her for a moment, tugging absently at the binds on her wrists. “Why?” she asks, warily.

“Because it wouldn’t work,” Elliot replies. “You can’t make someone get better. They have to want it. And I don’t think that you do, honey.”

Diana’s eyes flicker for a moment. Elliot can tell that she’s trying to regulate her breathing, trying to smooth it on the way in and out of her so that it isn’t so laborious, but it’s hard to do when there’s Bliss wreaking havoc on all of your defenses. She would know—she tries not to expose herself to that shit if she doesn’t have to.

“You’re right,” she says after minute, “I don’t want to “get better”, and I sure as fuck don’t want anything you’d give to me.”

“I don’t want that either,” Elliot tells her. “Not through any kind of religious baptism or cleansing, anyway.” She waves her hand and settles back against the seat, fishing a carton of cigarettes out of her pocket and sticking one in her mouth before she wiggles the box at Diana. “Smoke?”

The brunette regards her hatefully, silently, and Elliot shrugs before she lights her own, tosses the cigarettes onto the nearby workbench and takes a drag. When she blows the smoke out through the corner of her mouth, she says, “I don’t think we’re that different, Diana.”

“No?” Diana prompts, her mouth twisting around the words ruefully. “I could count the ways. One of us is a married to a fucking psychopathic kidnapper...”

“Colorful.”

“... and one of us also is a psychopathic kidnapper....”

Elliot smiles, but she doesn’t show her teeth, not the way that she smiles at Burke or Pratt because she wants to make them squirm. Diana rolls her neck.

“So if you don’t wanna cleanse me,” she begins, barely modulating the venom in her voice, “why the fuck am I here?”

“I like you,” Elliot says plainly, because she’s never been able to beat around the bush, not really. She’s not as sneaky as John, as brutal as Jacob, as smooth as Joseph. She’s not like any of them, and sometimes, that’s lonely.

The deputy regards her with something close to a poison-riddled look. Instead of addressing I like you, Diana seems to take advantage of this and makes a demand, instead.

"That Bliss shit makes me feel like garbage," she says. "Don't give it to me anymore."

"You did puke it up quite a bit, didn't you?"

Diana grimaces. She looks like she might want to say something, perhaps regarding Elliot's explanation, but the blonde waves her hand to stop whatever is about to come out of the deputy's mouth. She's not there to argue the logistics of a cosmic pull, anyway.

“I moved out of Hope County straight after high school,” she explains, “and back home to Georgia. Big city. Very exciting. I was tired of this little town and how few opportunities it had. Atlanta? That shit had so much going on.” Elliot pauses, crossing her leg over her knee.

“So glad,” Diana seethes, “that I’m getting a fuckin’ origin story.”

Elliot sucks her teeth. “Anyway, I date a shithead, I break up with him, and then he breaks into my apartment and holds a knife to my neck.” Elliot waves her hand again, because these details are so inconsequential to her at this point; she can barely remember the boy’s face, or anything about that moment except for a few key details. The color of his sweater sleeve (cream); the smell of his cologne (expensive); the paint chipping around her doorframe (small, baby blue chipping to white plaster underneath).

The brunette stares at her. Elliot takes a drag of the cigarette and taps the ash off of the end.

“I’ll spare you the details,” she continues, “but do you know what I was thinking that whole time? And after?”

Diana’s jaw works loosely, absently, like her brain is firing off neurons without needing to. “I don’t fucking know.”

“Try and guess.” She pauses, and then says meaningfully, “I’m sure you’ve got an idea of the kinds of things your mind says when you’re in a moment like that.”

When she watches Diana and smokes her cigarette with leisurely, relaxed movements, the brunette’s eyes flicker over the smoke cloud and she manages out in a wobbling sneer, “Probably something like—like that it wasn’t your fault, or some other kind of psychological-drivel to make you feel like you were in control.”

Elliot comes to a stand. The deputy’s closer than she thinks; it is about control, but just a different path.

“No,” she says, planting a hand on the arm of the chair Diana’s tied to so she can lean down. “I kept thinking, ‘this isn’t going to ever fucking happen again’.”

There’s a strange suspended moment between them. Diana’s lovely—more lovely than she’d let on, probably—but more than that, watching the deputy claw and rake her way through group after group of Eden’s Gate members, causing them problem after problem, Elliot can only think, aren’t we a little pair, the two of us?

A person didn’t get used to killing so fast unless they’d at least thought about it before. Maybe done it before.

“Do you know what it’s like, Diana,” Elliot continues, “to realize that you’ve reached a point of being able to do anything to stop something like that from happening again? It’s not oppressive. It’s liberating. Why do you think an animal stuck in a trap will chew its own foot off to get out?”

She straightens up. She wants to touch—tuck the hair away from her face, trace the lines of her face—but she won’t. Not yet. She’s more patient than John is, more willing to wait for that moment of satisfaction.

Diana says, “It’s real fucking liberating knowing Hudson’s chained up somewhere.”

“You have to stop giving a shit,” Elliot replies, “about other people’s freedoms before you’ve gotten your own.”

The brunette opens her mouth to say something, but before she can, Elliot plunges on. “We’re the same because we’re both going to get it done, whatever it is for us,” she says. “By any means necessary.”

Diana’s staring at the wall. She’s silent, and spitefully so, and she won’t look at Elliot; maybe because she knows that’s exactly what Elliot wants. In fact, that’s almost assuredly what it is.

“I want a cigarette,” the brunette says after a moment, petulant.

Elliot smiles thinly and brings her own to Diana’s mouth. More enunciated, Diana says, “I want my own cigarette.”

“It’s nice to want things, deputy,” Elliot idles. “Take it or don’t, it’s up to you.”

She does, after a moment of deliberation. Elliot drops the cigarette to the concrete floor as she breathes the smoke out and stamps it out with her foot. Diana takes a long time to blow the smoke out of her mouth, and she shifts in the chair; her eyes flicker up to meet Elliot’s, and she’s sure she can see something wicked in them.

“Animals chew themselves out of a trap because they’re animals,” Diana says after a second, not exactly the profession of attraction Elliot was hoping for. “Not because it’s liberating.”

Elliot laughs and pushes the chair she’d been sitting in back and out of the way. She picks up her carton of cigarettes from the tool bench and replies. Glancing over her shoulder, she can feel her expression softening when she looks at the deputy—soaking wet, rattling with cold and what Bliss they’d manage to pelt her with. Not much, they told her, whatever “much” meant.

“We’re all animals, deputy,” she acquiesces after a moment. “In the fucking end, anyway.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Glad you’re getting along with your deputy.”

John knows he sounds petulant. He knows, and he still can’t stop it from coming out of him as Elliot peels her sweater off over her head and drops it onto the floor. She glances at him over her shoulder.

“Green with envy looks good on you, baby,” she idles, and he feels his molars grind.

“You could play a little hard to get,” John says, trying for lofty and failing. “She’s a fucking menace, after all. She’s been causing problems nonstop, she took Fall’s End from us—”

Elliot says, “Our,” without stopping her undressing, which is two parts frustrating and one part endearing because John knows she’s trying to disarm him. She’s not stealthy about her tactics, and she doesn’t try to be.

“Our what?” he asks her, barely containing his irritation.

“Our deputy,” his wife replies sweetly. She turns, finally, to look at him—giving him her eyes, because she knows that he hates when she doesn’t—and leans against the dresser. “You called her my deputy. She’s not mine. She’s ours.”

John presses his lips into a thin line. He knows Elliot. He knows what it is she’s doing, because even though Diana has been nothing but a fucking thorn in his side, hearing the blonde say she’s ours gives him a pleasant, wretched kind of thrill writhing slick and hot in the pit of his stomach. As much as he knows her intimately, so too does she know exactly the kind of thing to keep him interested.

But it is a little different, if she’s considering sharing. If Diana isn’t her own private conquest.

“Is that so?” he asks, managing to keep his voice conversational now despite his piqued interest, sidling over to her. “I seem to recall that she was supposed to be my belated wedding gift to you.”

Reaching up, he drags his fingers along the inked scales of the serpent curved around her hip, swallowing up some of those gossamer-fine scars she had given herself and stretching down her thigh.

“Well,” Elliot murmurs demurely, “would I be a very Godly woman if I didn’t share with my husband?”

The words push the corners of his mouth upward.

“No.” He sweeps his eyes over her face. “I suppose not.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Joseph quickly comes to think that the deputy is more trouble than she’s worth. John hates when he says things like to Elliot with him still in the room, because he knows that Elliot isn’t going to cow to his brother—even though she should. It’s one of the most irritating traits of hers.

“She’s making a mess,” Joseph says, standing in their kitchen, watching Elliot with his eyes—the same way that he watches Jacob, sometimes. With wariness. “More of a mess than the good she would do us if she were converted.”

Elliot replies tartly, “It’s a good thing you don’t lift a finger to clean up a mess then, isn’t it? John does it for you, no questions asked, and by proxy, I do too.”

“If you have an issue with the way things are,” his brother articulates carefully, “then perhaps you should discuss the expectations that have been set out for you by God, with God.”

Elliot’s jaw sets. The contention sits there, her death, locked in her jaw.

Oh, John thinks, and he says, “I’ll be back.” She gives him a sharp look.

“I think that’s best,” she bites out. He knows what that means—she wants to be alone to argue with Joseph as she pleases, without having to worry about Joseph going, well, what do you think, John? Because he will, inevitably. He will, and John will have to look at Elliot and say, you know that he’s right, Joseph knows best, we’re here to shepherd.

As he descends to the lower bowels of the ranch, he stops at the bottom of the stairs.

“... do more for you than you fucking realize...”

“—refrain from speaking to me like—”

“—deserve to have this, Joseph—”

They should have taken Diana to the bunker, not kept her here. Not where there is so little space between them and her. The lack of distance lets Elliot feel close to her, and like any unloved animal, when she has something to keep, she guards it viciously. This is no different.

Diana is no different.

“You’re quite the conversation piece,” John tells the brunette when he walks into the room. She’s been with them for three days, and in that time she’s nearly escaped; unfortunately, the only exit from the basement is to go up, and she’s easy to catch up there.

The deputy regards him with a half-lidded gaze that reeks of impudence. “What’s it like?”

“Having a conversation piece?”

“Being so pathetic you have to kidnap someone to be able to have conversation,” Diana drawls venomously. The words spike a bout of irritation in him, hot and wretched, and he thinks he doesn’t know if it was worse to come down here to avoid Joseph and Elliot’s argument or if he should have stayed.

“My brother thinks you’re more trouble than you’re worth,” John bites out.

“I’m really fuckin’ concerned about Joseph’s opinion of me.” She smiles, all teeth, and the gesture strikes him as eerily reminiscent to Elliot. “So what, you’re gonna baptize me now or whatever instead?”

“Oh, I don’t think so,” he snaps, circling the chair that has been her home. “He doesn’t even want you cleansed. I’m thinking he’s just going to have us kill you. Stick your head up somewhere to send a message to all of your little friends in the resistance.”

Diana’s quiet at that for a minute, before she says, ��Wifey won’t let that happen.”

“You—” John sucks in a sharp breath. “Don’t call her that.”

“Why not? She’s been making fucking bedroom eyes at me every second, that’s not my fault.”

Diana’s goading him, but it’s hard to see around the irritation. She’s impertinent, and impudent, and there’s nothing that he wants to do more than to just break that inside her—until she’s saying his name and begging and begging and begging. It’s the part of him that Joseph wanted him to cleanse and cut out, but that Elliot tells him she likes the best.

We’re closer than lovers, she would say, digging her nails in hard enough to draw blood, the same sin binds us.

The same sin that she sees in Diana, too. Wrath, he knows, even though he hates it.

“She has taken a particular interest in you,” John relents after a moment, though he doesn’t like to, “deputy.”

“I’m a catch,” Diana agrees. He sucks his teeth.

“My wife has always been a purveyor of wretched things.” John leans against the tool bench, narrowing his eyes. “I suppose she must think there’s something salvageable about you.”

“Is there a point?” the deputy asks, sounding tired. “To this... Monologuing? It’s very Marvel-villain of you, but I don’t have any popcorn or alcohol, and it makes it a lot less enjoyable.”

“Look,” he hisses, pushing off from the tool bench, “if we had it my way, you’d have your sin revealed and you’d be on your fucking knees begging us to keep you, you wicked little—”

“John?”

Elliot’s voice drifts down from the stairwell, and he snaps his mouth shut. She’d be furious if she knew he’d lost his temper. Maybe. Probably.

“Uh-oh,” Diana sing-songs, just low enough for him to hear, “here comes the ol’ ball and chain. Isn’t that right, buddy?”

The insinuation hangs there, between them, that Elliot is their ball and chain, and he feels his blood pressure spike. “Shut. Up,” John grinds out between his teeth, just as he hears footfalls descend the stairs above. When his wife does finally turn the corner, there’s a lovely high colour in her cheeks, and her eyes look a little wild.

“Bonding time?” she asks.

“Hardly,” John replies, just as Diana says, “Oh, you know it,” and he shoots her a look. Elliot had called her their deputy, their shared conquest, but both he and Diana look at Elliot more than they want to look at each other.

He does want, he thinks. He feels that tell-tale itch. It wouldn’t be so strong if Diana didn’t just buck against them all the fucking time, but he does want, which makes it all the more frustrating when she turns that venom on him.

“We should give the deputy a little blissful encouragement,” John remarks, turning his gaze to Elliot. “It might make her behave.”

“I don’t think so,” the blonde idles, as he reaches up and tucks a strand of hair away from her face. Oh, yes—she is furious. He can feel the tension from the grind of her molars against each other. The conversation with Joseph didn’t go well, then.

“Joseph wants to speak with you,” Elliot tells him as he runs the pads of his fingers down the column of her throat. There’s a nasty, jagged scar there—he’s trying to remember where it’s from, but he can’t.

“About what?” he says, brows pulling together.

“Wives, submit to your husband as to the lord,” she intones, the obedience in her voice cloying and all-too-sweet to be genuine, “for the husband is the head of the wife as Christ is the head of the church, his body, of which he is the Saviour—”

“Fucking unreal,” Diana says from the chair, and Elliot’s mouth ticks upward.

“As the church submits to Christ,” she finishes, fixing John with her eyes, “etcetera and so on.”

John is filled with dread. He thinks maybe Elliot’s mouthed off one too many times—she’s never liked Joseph, never even been particularly religious, and her own heritage is such a violent mishmash of religion and criminal activity that she’s hardly got the track record for piety. Scarlet is a practicing Catholic and Ambrose’s opinions on religion are unknown, considering that he’s been vanished for so long, so it’s no surprise that Elliot views religion as something like ambiguity.

“I’ll be quick,” he murmurs, which they both know isn’t true, but he says it anyway.

“Don’t rush on my behalf.” Her eyes are dark—he can see the pupils eating away at the baby blue of her irises, and when she reaches up and brushes his hand away from her face, there is a tiny tremor in her hands.

Not good at all, he thinks, stepping around her and looking at Diana. Her eyes are on Elliot for a heartbeat longer, and then she looks at him, and he knows that she’s seen it too. She’s too sharp not to have.

As he approaches the stairs, John says, “Play nice, hellcat.”

“I always do.”

Near the top, he hears Diana say, “I don’t think you’re capable of playing well with others, princess,” and Elliot says, “He said play nice, not play fair, and I can be plenty nice,” and he feels a little surge of warmth at the playfulness in her tone. It’s a timbre that he doesn’t hear out of her often, and almost exclusively with him, so to hear it now not only makes him a little envious, but also pleased.

The deputy is a wretched, wicked thing, yes; she should be cleansed, but there is also a part of him that knows Elliot would not want her any other way, just like he wouldn’t want Elliot any other way.

And that’s good enough for him.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The deputy escapes.

It’s not a surprise to Elliot when he tells her, and he thinks maybe she was waiting for it all along, considering that Joseph had conditionally allowed them their pursuit of Diana as long as they can keep her under control; it would not be completely unfounded to think maybe Elliot gave her a way out, to keep the chase fun. To keep it fresh.

She takes Fall’s End back. She takes the fucking plane back. She takes Hudson back. She takes, and takes, and takes, and that’s all Diana Baker is capable of doing, John thinks—fucking taking, even after he and Elliot had been so gracious with her. It grinds against his patience as though his nerve endings have been exposed; it shreds the last of his control, sinks its claws into him like nothing else.

Sunrise Farm. Rae Rae’s. The Lamb of God Church. One after another, they play this game of existential tug-of-war; where Diana takes one and moves on, Elliot surges back in to take it back again. He thinks that his wife should be able to crush the Resistance under her bootheel, but he has the sneaking suspicion that she doesn’t want it to be done so quickly. And, in many ways, Diana outfoxes them with what appears to be little effort; their supply trucks get mowed down. The silos burn. Men keep dying.

These are all things that should disparage Elliot, but each time John points it out to her—“She’s wicked, Ell,” he’ll posit—she regards him loftily and says, “Well, she can’t be anything less than us, can she?”

Diana gets pulled back to them. She escapes. It happens over and over, until the lines start blurring, until John thinks maybe, sometimes, she lets them catch her—like she’s looking forward to those moments. When she’s there, at the ranch, things feel different; Elliot moves with a strange surety around the deputy, like they know each other already, deep in the marrow of their bones. Maybe, in a way, they do.

And in those moments, there’s a shift. Elliot allows her freedoms on good behavior, which run on such thin ice considering Diana herself, and are almost always immediately broken at first. But no matter how many of their things she destroys or spits on or takes, no matter how many times John finds himself disgustingly exasperated with her—he is always happy to see her back.

In part because he knows Joseph has given Jacob and Faith both leave to kill her if they have the misfortune of coming across her, and in part because he sees the way Elliot leans into her like a flower to sunlight; her fingers ghost over Diana’s skin, and she pulls Diana into her lap and kisses her, hot and open-mouthed, and sighs when Diana petulantly sinks her teeth into her lower lip.

It draws blood, and John knows from the way his wife looks at him that it delights her.

“Wicked,” Elliot murmurs then, tongue peeking out to swipe the blood from her lip, reiterating the word that John favors Diana with the most. “Don’t you think so, baby?”

“Incredibly,” John agrees. He climbs onto the bed behind Elliot, sweeping the hair from her shoulder and pressing a kiss to the junction of her shoulder.

“How well we chose,” the blonde purrs, dragging her fingertips along the column of Diana’s throat, and he can see the goosebumps rise in her skin. Diana’s eyes flicker, dreamily, and their gazes meet over Elliot’s shoulder. She’s tame, like this—or nearly-tame, close to domesticated, at least for a little while. It’s only ever for a little while. And though they fall into a strange, tentative routine every time she’s here—even though John can lean over Elliot’s shoulder and pull Diana into a bruising kiss, until he feels her breath hitch.

He loves it. He loves the feeling of Diana’s mouth parting under his, loves that their fingers meet, tangled, in Elliot’s hair, grounding Diana to them. At night, when Elliot has contented herself with enough of a taste of Diana and John both, when they lay tangled together, Diana kept between them.

Our deputy, Elliot had said; in moments like these, it feels true.

“You missed us,” the blonde says against Diana’s neck. “We missed you, too. Especially John.”

Her eyes are sly when she looks at him, when he pulls back from Diana to regard his wife curiously. She takes the brunette’s chin in her grip and guides her back, brushing their noses together.

“Missed having both of his little vipers,” she murmurs silkily, and John sees the flicker of her tongue against Diana’s lips. “Didn’t you, John?”

Yes, he thinks, but does not say, because his mind is encompassed with the way Elliot kisses Diana; reverently, with the intent to worship. Never rushed and never urgent, only ever luxuriating in it.

At first, he and Diana get along for Elliot’s sake—as much as they can, anyway, because even Elliot is not enough of a bridge to force them to get along—but when they have the deputy, and his wife gets called away, they fall into a kind of rhythm with each other. It’s not a familiar cadence. It’s daunting, and a little jarring, the way they bite and scratch at each other for comfort, both missing their girl.

“I’m not going to stay,” Diana says then, against the blonde’s mouth, the same way that she said it into John’s mouth. Her neck and shoulders are littered with the remnants of their time together, and he wonders if the Resistance members ask.

“We know,” John says, leaning down and grazing his teeth across the fading bruise of a love bite. He drinks in the way Diana hisses and squirms. “You’ll always leave.”

“And always come back,” Elliot agrees. She noses past the hair gathering in the crook of Diana’s shoulder.

“Like you were never gone at all.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It becomes her mantra. I’m not going to stay, Diana says every time, and every time she only sticks around for a day or more before she dissipates into the air like a wraith. He doesn’t know how long it goes on like this, but he does know that each time Joseph becomes more impatient. Each time, the act of losing her strikes a chord of panic in John—she won’t come back this time, he thinks, or maybe this time she’ll come back with more than just her, or or or—but Elliot doesn’t feed into his panic; she treats it like anything else, with the confidence that the deputy will come back. He desperately wants to keep Diana there with them, where he can see and touch and taste her, where he is certain Jacob hasn’t gotten her, but she always follows through on the promise of leaving.

“Aren’t you at your limit?” John asks, late in the evening, watching Diana from across the island counter in the kitchen. This time around, Elliot has been gone for most of the time Diana has been here, which makes it more difficult to know that her tolerance for sticking around is going to be running out soon. By the time Elliot comes back, Diana might already be gone.

“I’m always at my limit,” she replies, her idle venom more a comfort now than ever, “with you.”

“You’re a real comedian, deputy.” He saunters around the island, his hands finding her hips and his mouth finding her neck. He likes hearing the way her breath slides out of her when he does. “Though I seem to recall a specific instance in which you were not at your limit, and couldn’t stop asking me for more—”

He’s about to follow through on the insinuation, because Diana’s eyes narrow when she looks at him but she’s warm and close and he watches her gaze flicker down to his mouth, but the sound of the front doors to the house opening startles him out of the dreamy haze the brunette tends to put him in. John pushes off from the counter and walks out of the kitchen, brows knitting together at the impudence of someone to come barging in without being announced.

“Herald.” It’s one of the men, and his face cloudy. “It’s—I’m sorry, we—”

“Spit it out,” John grinds out between his teeth. He hears the sound of Diana rustling in the kitchen behind him, and then from outside, Elliot’s voice.

“Don’t fucking touch me—”

The blonde shoulders her way through the doorway as someone flutters nervously behind her. John takes in a number of details very rapidly: she’s clutching at a spot close to her shoulder, just below her collarbone, there is blood coming out of her mouth, and she’s fucking pissed.

“Get a doctor,” John barks out, just as Diana steps around him and goes to Elliot. He does, too, but mostly to clear the members of Eden’s Gate out of the room because he knows Elliot’s going to come unglued if they stick around.

“Fucking Pratt,” Elliot seethes, even as Diana’s hands go to her, trying to guide her to the couch. The blonde jerks when she feels hands on her, looking wild, and John tenses for just a second; in moments like these, his wife’s ability to differentiate between threat and non-threat is almost non-existent, and he’s suffered the consequences of it plenty of times. “Don’t—fucking—”

“It’s me, you monster,” Diana snaps. “Sit the fuck down.”

The blonde’s breathing is labored. She swallows back what he can only assume is a mouthful of blood before he says, “Hellcat.”

“I’m going,” she bites out, and then she does. Diana touches her elbow, and she stiffens, and then sits down where the brunette tells her to. When she pulls her hand away from her shoulder, it’s sticky and wet with blood.

“Jesus Christ,” Diana says, a little wrench in her voice that she quickly snuffs out. “Getting sloppy?”

“Eat shit,” Elliot wheezes. “I hate that fuckhead. Can’t wait til I—” She sucks in a sharp breath. “—til I g-get my fucking—hands—”

Diana is circling Elliot, trying to get a good look, as John grabs a first aid kid from under the kitchen sink. He keeps thinking about all of the blood coming out of her mouth; it’s not the first time he’s seen her like this, but it’s definitely not any easier, either.

“Exit wound?” the deputy asks.

“Fucking shot me with a 9 milli FMJ,” the blonde says between her teeth, “there’d better fucking be an—”

“Stop,” Diana interjects as John returns with the first aid kit, “being unhelpful.”

It’s a torturous amount of time between Elliot’s arrival and the arrival of the doctor they have for such occasions. In the meantime, Diana does what she can—she knows probably more than both of them, even Elliot with her close proximity to violence, about how to stabilize a gun wound; she cleans it and stops the bleeding as much as she can, her face set in a grim, tight expression.

The brunette packs the wound with gauze and says, “You’re a goddamn idiot.”

“Cute one though, huh?” Elliot asks, her voice a little hoarse and her eyes fluttering. “Be cuter if someone could get me some fucking oxy.”

“Save it for the doctor, princess.”

“So glad,” John manages out tartly, Elliot’s fingers loosely curling against his palm, “so glad we have your calming presence here, deputy.”

Diana regards him for a moment, and she looks about to say something when the doctor chooses precisely that moment to arrive. He doesn’t do much by way of conversation; he works silently, intensely, his fingers moving a sort of surety that comes with many years of practice, but he hardly looks at John or Diana while he works.

It’s probably odd. People know that Diana is around, but they don’t know-know, in the sense that there’s never been an official announcement or acknowledgement of what’s going on. Occasionally, the doctor’s eyes furtively flicker towards the brunette; but if he’s feeling pressed to ask, he doesn’t let it show.

By the time Elliot is stitched-up, drugged-up, and planted into the bed, the heat and bubbling fury have died out of her, the embers smothered by the painkillers. Diana lays in the master bedroom next to her while the doctor talks to him outside in the hall.

“Bed rest, minimum three weeks,” he says. “If she keeps coughing up blood, call me. No strenuous activity, no stress—”

“Doctor,” John says tightly, “with all due respect, let’s keep the expectations under control.”

The doctor grimaces. “Bed rest, three weeks. Everything else, just—try your best.”

John nods, short and impatient, and dismisses the man with a gesture of his hand before he steps into the bedroom. Elliot’s murmuring something to Diana, but the words are slurring and her voice is pitched so low beyond normal volume he can’t make it out, even from there.

He wanders to the side of the bed, sitting down on the edge by Elliot’s hip.

“What’d he say?” the blonde asks, her words slurring and her fingers tangling in strands of Diana’s dark hair. “Two days, ready—go?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Diana says irritably.

“Three weeks bedrest,” John tells her. “He thinks you have a collapsed lung.”

“Fuckoff,” Elliot groans, the words blending together.

“He also said no strenuous activity, no stress—”

At that, Diana laughs, the sound billowing out of her in a short, disbelieving bark. “Fucking what?”

“That...means you t-two have to….behave,” Elliot mumbles, her eyes flickering. “No stressin’ me—no streeeessin’—”

“Stop.” Diana sounds almost affectionately exasperated. “You are so painful to listen to.”

“—no stressin’,” Elliot finishes stubbornly, “me. Out.”

Later that night, when she’s finally drifted off into sleep and John and Diana have her settled between them, John props his head up in his hand and sees Diana still awake. She’s looking at the window. It’s open, and the late-August breeze comes drifting in, bringing with it the smell of pine and wilderness.

“At your limit?” John asks as he did before, keeping his voice soft so as not to stir Elliot. Normally, he wouldn’t ask—he would just wait to realize that Diana’s not there, and go from that point on. But it’s different, now, with Elliot like this.

The brunette turns her gaze to him. For a second, her eyes flicker over Elliot, who stirs a little.

“She always this annoying?” Diana says, instead of answering, and by annoying he thinks she means worry-inducing.

“Like it’s an Olympic Sport,” John replies.

She exhales out of her nose. They sit like that for a little while, until Diana settles back against the pillow. Elliot’s fingers are knotted loosely into the sleeve of her t-shirt, and the blonde’s breathing stutters and hitches in her chest.

“Not yet,” she answers, finally. “Not at my limit yet.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“How many days has it been?”

John’s voice breaks Elliot out of her reverie. She blinks, and realizes that she’s been checked out. The painkillers make her brain foggy, and if it weren’t for the excruciating, searing pain in her chest and shoulder, she’d just stop taking them.

The sound of the shower running in the bathroom adjacent to the bedroom trickles in through the fog. That’s right: she’s in bed. She’s in bed, and John is next to her, his fingers tracing the coil of the tattooed serpent on her thigh, the cigarette in her fingers burning for who knows how long since the last time she’s taken an inhale of it.

“Since what?” Elliot asks, looking at her husband. John slides his hand up and snags her fingers, bringing the wedding ring she sports to his mouth.

“Since our viper came back to us.”

She tries to think back that far, but it’s hard. Elliot reaches over with a wince and taps the cigarette out into the ashtray. In the bathroom, she can hear the water switch off.

After a moment, she replies, “Must be over two weeks.”

Her husband makes a low noise. She brushes her fingers through his beard, and he murmurs, “Longer than usual.”

“What are you two gossiping about?”

Elliot’s gaze flickers up sluggishly to Diana, standing in her towel, propped up against the doorway. She’s such a far cry from the girl that she was when they first got their hands on her that it’s almost easy to forget she ever existed in a place where she wasn’t theirs. How absolutely dreadful, Elliot thinks, just absolutely fucking dreadful, to think she was once not ours.

“How long we have to wait for you to come back over here,” John says easily. “Not only are you using up all the hot water, but Elliot’s pining.”

“Oh, yeah?” Diana sounds amused as she makes her way to the bed. “Poor little bed-ridden snake, aren’t you?”

Elliot laughs, because it should be absurd—it should be, that Diana is here, leaning in when Elliot beckons her, the brunette’s mouth soft and sweet against her own. It should be absurd, but it isn’t, because this isn’t the first time Diana’s kissed her like this and it won’t be the last, either.

“Every time we’re apart,” Elliot confirms resolutely, “I wallow around. Just ask John.”

“I have a hard time picturing you wallowing.”

“She does,” John says, planting a kiss on Elliot’s jaw. “She wallows around and says, when do you think our Di will be back? Does she think about us?” And then, grinning wickedly, he adds, “Do you think if I ask nicely, she’ll shove her fingers in my mouth?”

Elliot laughs, grabbing John’s jaw and jostling him. “You fucker.”

“I will,” Diana says, and now she sounds sly, and in the way that Elliot does. “If you ask.”

Pausing, Elliot feels her chest tighten a little. Mine, she thinks tiredly, glancing between John and Diana both. They’re here, and hers, and even though she told John the deputy is for them she thinks maybe they’re both for her.

“What else?” She turns her gaze back to Diana. “What else will you do, if I ask?”

Diana’s gaze flickers. Her lips press into a thin little line. I’m not going to stay, she looks like she wants to say, but she doesn’t. She just says, “You’re chatty as fuck tonight, aren’t you? Sounds like it might be time for you to pop another painkiller,” and goes to fetch the pill bottle.

Elliot settles back against the pillows and watches the brunette rifling through the dresser. This is when Diana says, I’m not going to stay, her little mantra, but she doesn’t, and John tangles their fingers together and squeezes her hand.

The deputy always leaves, and she always comes back. She hasn’t said yes, she’ll stay, and she also hasn’t said no, she’ll go, and in this instance maybe that means exactly what Elliot wants it to.

Maybe, it means this time, she’ll stay.

#my writing #2020 christmas electric boogaloo #jess!!! jess!!!!#im not hiding in the tags but i hope u like it #ik you just proofed it but guess what?#it's probably still got spelling errors #<3 #just ash things #otp: the unholy trinity #anyway hi i love you #i can't believe i actually got this shit done in time for christmas #i hope..... the vibes are good #and the flow #ahhhhh lmao #ksjfskadjf #OKAY BYE LOVE YOU #fc5 fic

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maryniss · 3 years

Text

Dove L’amore

Fandom: Sk8 The Infinity

Summary: Kojiro dances with Kaoru in the restaurant.

Rating: General and Up Audiences

Relationships: Nanjo Kojiro | Joe/Sakurayashiki Kaoru | Cherry Blossom

Characters: Nanjo Kojiro | Joe ; Sakurayashiki Kaoru | Cherry Blossom

Tags: fluff, dancing, not angsty

Notes: hey short not angsty matchablossom fic here u go muah byeee

Music: Cher-Dove L'amore

Kojiro was feeling surprisingly good today. Why, he didn’t know, but did it actually matter?

He walked into his kitchen, the yellow light of the morning shining shyly through the restaurant’s windows. Outside, it was still too early for cars to be on the road, for people to walk to their workplace.

Ah, did Kojiro loved this kind of mornings, where everything was so peaceful, so tranquil. With the biggest and dumbest smile plastered all over his face, he put on his apron and turned the stove on.

But, the feeling that something was missing was lingering near, not letting him enjoy that beautiful morning completely. What was it that was not there...?

Kojiro suddenly knew. And it was kind of weird, but it didn’t matter as long as he would feel happy. He took his phone and opened YouTube.

“Ah, how was it called...,”muttered he under his breath. “Ah, yeah! That was it!” Kojiro connected his phone to his portable box and pressed play.

Cher’s voice reverberated in the silent room. Kojiro turned the volume to max and let the melody play on repeat.

He went back to the kitchen counter and started preparing the food for that day. Some carrots form under the table, some meat from the fridge and in between a twirl in rhythm with the music. Kojiro took a ladle and tried the soup and then turned off the stove.

“Still no customers, huh?”

Cher’s voice was still filing the room. Kojiro smiled, remembering a very specific night in Paris.

And, suddenly he was singing and dancing. He almost knocked his soup over and he was not far from breaking a chair, but it was fun.

Well, that until the other Cher he knew appeared.

“What are you doing?”

Kojiro hit himself on the corner of the table and screamed.

“I was sure the door was closed...”

Kaoru scoffed and sat himself at a table.

“I used the key you gave me. Also, bring me some food.”

Kojiro frowned.

“Oi, you cant just walk into somebody’s restaurant and demand food...!”

Kojiro laughed and sat back on his chair, his hair almost brushing the floor.

“And turn the music down. You sing and dance horrible.” Oh, ho-ho, at that, Kojiro, who was about to pour Kaoru a hot bowl of soup, really got annoyed. Seriously, he was in such a good mood before!

The green-haired man put the food down on the counter and sat next to Kaoru. Seeing that his friend was about to say something, probably scold him or something, Kojiro reached over the table and pressed his hand over his mouth.

“I think you dance much more worse than me...Kaoru... Remember that night in Paris?” Kaoru’s eyes got bigger and he somehow got the courage to lick the hand covering his face. Kojiro backed away; though it was not the lick that made he do so; he just wanted to saw the pretty, pink blush stretched over his friend’s face.

“You know, I was drunk...!”. Ah. Kojiro really was tired of that excuse. He suddenly sat up and the chair he has sat onto fell on the floor. He grabbed Kaoru’s wrist and the pink-haired man made a cute sound at the sudden action; something like a squirrel would.

“If you don’ remember, should we do it again?”. Kaoru’s face only got a darker shade of pink, almost red. He tried to hide behind his hair, but that left his neck unprotected. Kojiro saw the matching sun tattoo they got that night in Paris. He still wondered how he managed to convince Kaoru to have one. He smiled.

Right then, Cher’s melody started playing again. The sound of guitar filled the room and Kojiro took Kaoru’s hand in his.

“Look, this is how you should put your arms,” said he, guiding Cherry. “I assume that you did not dance with other people besides me, since you seem to hate it so much...Also, who would dance with you with that face? Scary.” Kojiro laughed at the sour look Kaoru gave him; it had no effect with his face being so red.

“I’m joking, I’m joking. Though I may be the only one who finds this face cute.” Kaoru was about to slap him. Probably. But the lyrics started right then and Kojiro was saved.

“Come, on, pay attention. If it won’t be good the first time, we are gonna do it again.”

Dov'e L'Amore Dov'e L'Amore I cannot tell you of my life Here is my story

Kaoru didn’t ask what Kojiro meant by good. His palms were sweaty and he almost tumbled down.

“Of course we’re gonna do it again, since you have no customers. Only I come around here for you horrible food.”

“Mhm, yes, only you, indeed...” Kojiro spun Kaoru around, who gasped. The pink-haired man didn’t know what to say; it was just like that night. And yes, he did remember. But how could he admit to Kojiro? How could he when he knew what they said to each other that night? How could he say that he remembered those words?

He was not ready....His heart could not take it...

“Are your memories coming back to you?”. Kaoru shrugged.

There is no other, there is no other No other love can take your place Or match the beauty of your face I'll keep on singing till the day I carry you away

Their moves were swift and perfectly in sync. It was a simple moment, so simple and so beautiful that Kaoru’s head was spinning. He did not want to get lost, but he did. He got lost in the song and in Kojiro’s eyes and in Kojiro’s arms he did another spin.

They clashed back together and Kaoru tried to catch his breath.

“Do you remember now?”

“The song is not finished.”

They both looked into each other eyes. Kojiro smiled and he took Kaoru in his arms.

“Hey, what the...Put me down!”

Kojiro did not listen. Now, when did he listen to Kaoru? He spun around the restaurant and he laughed. His laugh was genuine and Kaoru could only stay still and look.

Non c'e nessuno Non c'e nessuno Non c'e nessuno Bello come te e ti amo

Kaoru had to hide his face in Kojiro’s chest. He couldn’t control his smile, not anymore. He hated how Kojiro did this to him; bring down everything he worked so hard for. His calm face, his rational mind. Throw them out of the window!

He hated and loved Kojiro and he did not want that moment to end.

But, as Kaoru never have what he desired, a knock interrupted them. He would love to beat that guy outside.

He looked up when Kojiro continued dancing.

“Uhm, there is someone...”

“Let them stay there. I only got food for you anyways. Since you love my bad cooking.” And, just like that the song finished. For a brief second, they looked at each other. And Kaoru smiled and the song started again.

That day, no customers were allowed to enter and neither Joe or Cherry were at S. And the song played all the day...

I'll keep on singing till the day I carry you away With my love song, with my love song With my love song, with my love song

***

Bonus:

The night was warm and kind of quiet. A drunk Kaoru and a drunk Kojiro stumbled across the streets of Paris, trying to find the way to their hotel.

“I told you ~hic~! it was a bad idea ~hic~!... to drink so much ~hiC~!, you brainless gorilla!”

“Well, when did I ever ~BuRp~ listen to you! ~hic~

Kaoru made a sheesh sign towards his friend.

“Do you hear?”

“What should I ~hic!~ hear?”

Cher’s Dove l’amore was raging from afar.

“Come on, dance with me, Kojiro.”

And they danced. And they kissed. And they confessed. And they danced.

And maybe they were just a bit too drunk. Or maybe they liked the song a bit too much.

But, the Paris’s streets thought otherwise. I guess they were just a little bit too much in love with each other.

***

non angsty matchblossom?? me?? surprise shawty hope u liked it muah byee!!

#matchblossom #sk8 joe #sk8 cherry blossom

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tr4shmouth-tozi3r · 5 years

Text

‘it’s okay, you’re safe now.’ - bill denbrough x reader

requested: yes & I totally feel like I could have done better on this one, but I hope you liked it!

(also wasn’t sure if u wanted me to scribble out your name or not I hope it’s alright that I didn’t.)

summary: Bill was set on going to the Neibolt house and even though everyone had protested, they all found themselves following him. y/n would always support Bill, no matter what. She knew what it was like to lose someone and never get them back, but she had a horrible feeling about this...

pairing: bill denbrough x reader

warnings: swearing, violence, and some fluff at the end;)

“Bill, wait!” Bev shouted after him, but he didn’t even look back. Everyone scanned their eyes over each other and suddenly there was a silent agreement.

We’re following him, let’s go.

And so they did, you included. Bill might have been crazy, but not to you. Even though you had this horrible feeling in your gut, you didn’t think his actions or emotions were technically crazy. It was his little brother. He had this small slither of hope that he would cling to, thinking that maybe somehow Georgie was alive.

For some reason, you disagreed. The further involved the eight of you became with this scary killer clown, the more you realized that he wasn’t just a man dressed up as a clown. He was sinister, he was evil. He represented something darker than any of you could have ever imagined. Killer man clown was just its favorite form.

You knew Bill needed closure or maybe he would find his happy ending and Georgie would be alive, but there was an unspoken knowledge that this was not the case. You’d been here before, but in a much different way. Now that you thought back on it, maybe it was Pennywise who had taken your little brother, too.

There was no way though, his body had been found and he had been murdered and you knew it was probably by one of those creeps that were always cracked out in town that linger through the neighborhoods looking for something or someone to pass the time. There were some fucked up people out here in Derry, but you didn’t think it could get anymore fucked up after your brother was murderered. But here you were, about to enter the house that was home to the most evil thing to ever shed light on Derry. And it was in this moment that a twisted thought had ran through your head as you threw your bike down on the untreated grass in front of the house.

Maybe if it had been Pennywise that took my brother, I could see him one last time. Just one more time.

The murder was never solved and the last time you had seen your brother was a warm summer night back in 86’. You were eleven years old. He was just seven. How could someone hurt a seven year old boy? You would never understand.

You beat yourself up for the next year after he had been murdered. You thought maybe if you played with him like he had asked, you could have helped him or maybe whoever did what they did to him, wouldn’t have even approached the two of you knowing there was a higher chance of getting caught. You went through every single but and what if that there was and you did this over and over again for two years after he had passed. Then that summer of 88’ you met the Losers Club and found your place with them. Then this year Bev, Ben, and Mike had made their entrance and you thanked God that you weren’t the only girl anymore.

You bonded with each of your friends differently, but Bill? There was more than just a bond there. After Georgie went missing, you were the first person he went to out of the group. He confided in you and he cried his eyes out. He cried so much you weren’t sure he had any tears left to cry, but oh boy, did he. He cried to you night after night after night. He missed his brother and he knew that you understood what he was feeling. He knew he could come undone with you, because you would understand. You would get it.

You had shared trauma, even though your experiences were not together. You connected on a deeper level because both of your hearts ached the same way.

You blinked and shook yourself from your thoughts and your eyes trailed over the house before you. Goosebumps worked their way up your arms and across the back of your neck.

“I have a bad feeling about this...” You whispered from in between Richie and Eddie and you swore you heard Eddie gulp from beside you.

“Bill! Bill you can’t go in there! This is crazy!” Beverly shouted at him as he stood on the top of the steps, silent. He looked at the front door and then turned around to face all of you.

“Look, you don’t have to come in with me, but what happens when another Georgie goes missing?” He looked right at you and he spoke to you with his eyes and you tensed up and nodded your head for him to continue. You knew he had more to say, “Or another Betty? Or another Ed Corcoran? Or one of us? Are you just gonna pretend it isn’t happening like everyone else in this town? Because I can’t. I go home and all I see is that Georgie isn’t there. His clothes, his toys, his stupid stuffed animals, but.. he isn’t. So walking into this house, for me, it’s easier than walking into my own.”

“Wow.” Everyone looked to Richie who spoke simply.

“What?” Ben asked.

“He didn’t stutter once.” He murmured, his eyes still fixed on Bill as the other boy whirled around to walk toward the front door once again.

“You’re right..” You whispered back to Richie and you both looked at each other in awe. Everyone fell silent for a moment and it seemed as though you had all come to the agreement that you were going to do it. You were all going to enter that house, but together.

The heavy feeling in your gut still hadn’t gone away and as you inched closer to the front door with your friends, it deepened and you felt like you were about to throw up everywhere.

“Wait!” You jumped at the sudden voice and turned to look at Stan who was fidgeting his fingers by his side, “Um.. shouldn’t we have some people keep watch? You know just, just in case something bad happens?”

“Wh-who wants to stay out here?” Bill questioned and everyone but you and Bev put your hands up.

Richie looked back at you and everyone else and you watched as he slowly turned back around and dropped his hand, muttering a small, “Fuck...” under his breath.

The eerie creak of the door opening rang throughout your ears and you couldn’t have agreed more with Richie.

Fuck...

One minute the four of you were closely tucked to each other’s sides and the next, Eddie was gone, then Richie.

You and Bill looked at each other, panic in your eyes after seeing what you had.

Missing. Richie Tozier. 13 years old.

“That’s my shirt, that’s my hair, that’s my face, that’s my name, that’s my age, that’s the date!”

“Calm down, calm down! Look at me, Richie, look at me. That-that isn’t real. It’s playing tricks on you.”

“Help me! Please!”

“Betty?”

“Ripsom?”

“Eddie... what are you looking for?”

“She was just here, where the fuck did she go?”

“Guys! Guys!”

“Eddie!”

“Hey, Richie.”

“Eddie? Eddie! Where the fuck are you, we’re not playing hide and seek dip shit!”

“Richie?”

“Bill! y/n! C’mon, open the door!”

You and Bill pounded furiously on the door before you, trying to get Richie from the other side. Your attempts at getting to Eddie had failed and now you were unsure of where he was and if he was even okay. Your stomach dropped at the thought of your friends dying here. There was no way you and Bill were letting this happen.

Suddenly the door flew open and Richie was falling to the ground infront of you and Bill.

“C’mon, let’s get outta-”

Bill was cut short by a low rumble coming from just passed the threshold of the doorway in front of the three of you. Your eyes all flew to the source and there was an old stained mattress on the floor. Suddenly, it was tearing at the seams in the middle and out popped a head, but not just any head. It was Eddie’s head. For fuck sake, it was Eddie’s head.

“Wanna play loogie?”

And suddenly there was something that looked like black tar, oozing from Eddie’s mouth and the three of you are in a panick, screaming in unison with the head before you and as the oozing substance starts to burn away everything in it’s path you find yourselves running in the opposite direction only to be met with three doors.

Not scary at all.

Scary.

Very scary.

It’s not real. It’s not real. It’s not real.

And suddenly you heard a small voice call out to you from behind. You whirled around and the black ooze had disappeared and you saw the back a child, running passed the doorway.

Your brother.

You walked slowly, approaching the doorway with caution and you could feel your heart beating so fast in your chest that you thought it might explode.

You peered out into the hallway and a door had slowly shut at the end of the hallway before you could see who it was. You don’t know why you did what you did next, but you silently walked out of the room before Bill or Richie could notice you and you found your hand tightly wrapped around the door knob of the room you had just watched someone shut the door of. You shook with nervousness and you told yourself, ‘Fuck this isn’t real, but I just want to see him. I want to see him standing in front of me. Talking to me. Just one more time. This is what I wanted. This is what I wanted.’

You flung the door open and your eyes darted around the room, searching. And that’s when your eyes landed on the dark corner of the room.

He was hunched over, covered by the shade as the sun shone through the window blinding you from across the room.

“y/n?” Your head peered out of the room at the sound of Bill’s voice and you silently stepped forward and shut the door quietly behind you. As you turned back around, he wasn’t hunched over in the corner anymore. He stood before you and it was not a pretty sight. His face was gashed open on one cheek, bags under his once vibrant happy eyes and his lips were brittle looking and chapped. His clothes were ragged and torn apart and there were deep wounds surfaced all over his chest and neck. It made you sick to look at the state he was in.

He went to speak, his voice hoarse, “Why didn’t anyone come and find me? It’s been three years!” He shouted angrily at you and you flinched and backed away.

“We were looking. We always looked. y/b/n, we found you. You aren’t... you aren’t alive anymore, fruitloop.” Tears welled in your eyes and you called him by his nickname you had given to him back when you were both much younger. He loved it, it always made him smile. He wasn’t smiling right now, though.

“Yes I am, I’m right here! I’m right here! I’M RIGHT HERE! I’M RIGHT HERE!”

His eyes rolled into the back of his head and his body convulsed in a way that made you cringe and squeeze your eyes shut. You peaked out at him, the sound of him choking on his own saliva surging through your ears and sending chills down your spine.

You knew you shouldn’t have followed him in here. You knew this wasn’t him, but this was as close to him as you would ever get again.

Suddenly his body was that of a contortionist, but it was much more gruesome. His limbs stretched and his voice was distorted and he broke out in a seizure frenzy. To say you were scared was an utter understatement. You couldn’t breathe.

And suddenly red and grey stripes of the sweater he last wore before he disappeared turned to slick yellow like a raincoat. And your eyes completely opened at this point.

You watched as he flew against the wall and his arm started to tear at the shoulder. He screamed louder, his voice going much deeper than normal.

And then all of sudden it was Georgie standing before you. He turned from the wall, and he spoke sinisterly to you, “Silly girl, It didn’t get your brother, how could he ever really be here? No, your brother died at the hands of a weakling and none of you could save him, now that’s sad. If I had been around that year, trust me..” As Georgie spoke, his voice glitched in and out. It sounded like him, then it sounded like Pennywise and in between it was deep demonic spurts of laughter before he continued on as he took his favorite form; Pennywise, “if I had sunk my teeth into that one, you never would have found him.” And before you knew it, it had grown eerily silent as you stared up into the eyes of evil itself. Your eyes finally couldn’t take it anymore and you let your tears spill and you screamed. You screamed so loud you had no idea what was happening.

Your hands flew up and out in front of you. You were punching and banging on his chest as you charged at him. You knew you wouldn’t win, but all the built up anger was finally exploding as he spoke about your brother. The hurt, the grief, the exhaustion; it all came flying out of you. He cackeled at your attempts and suddenly you were peering up into the abyss of sharp rows of teeth and faintly in the background you could hear as Richie and Bill pounded on the door.

Pennywise slowly loomed over you, yoking you up in his arms and you had no idea what to do. The only thing left to do now, was to give up.

You smiled through your tears and spoke, “I’m not afraid. Go ahead and take me. Let me see my brother.” Suddenly he was dropping you to the ground and snarling at you, his thick fingernails slashing across your chest as he disappeared through the closet door. Your head smacked against the wall behind you as you fell and your vision went blurry as you suddenly heard the door fly open and feet shuffling across the floor frantically.

You tried to open your eyes quickly, but found it rather difficult and suddenly panic took over you. You squinted against the harsh light of day as you felt yourself almost floating. You blinked harder and felt a twinge of pain shoot through your chest. You looked down and your shirt was torn, almost as if a werewolf had took a swing at you and cut you with his claws.

You were in an oversized bike basket. Confused as to how you ended up there, you looked up and behind you and winced as the pain shot through the back of your neck.

All you saw was the sun beating off of his clear skin and his rosy red lips were moving and his eyes were fixated on you, but you heard nothing. All you could hear was the ringing in your ears. His hand glided across your cheek and concern was etched over his features.

You started gasping for air and flailing your arms as you hit a pothole and everyone came to a screeching halt on their bikes. You suddenly noticed Eddie clinging onto his arm for dear life as he sat inside of Mike’s bike basket as well.

“Wh-what happened?” You sputtered and you coughed and suddenly blood was landing in the palm of your hand and your lips quivered at the sight and your hands shook with unease.

“You were attacked. It attacked you. Me and Bill got to you, but he already did some damage...” Richie spoke, out of breath and clearly shaken up.

Suddenly, you realized you were outside one of their houses and someone had said Eddie’s mom was already on the way. Oh boy...

You looked toward your other friends and noticed Ben had a nasty gash across his belly.

Soon, you found yourself laying against a tree in your friend’s yard and watching as Eddie’s mom yelled at in disgust at all of you. And your vision started going blurry again, but you could hear the muffled yells in front of you and see the silhouettes of yours friends as they were swaying back and forth and arms were flailing and people were falling. Were they fighting? Who was fighting?

“Guys...” Your voice was weak from all the yelling and the injuries to your body. No one noticed you speaking. They were still arguing, “Guys.” You spoke as loud as you could and they all turned to look at you. Bill was rushing over to you as your eyes rolled back into your head and you went limp against the tree.

You shot up, gasping for air and looking at your surroundings. You were in a hospital bed and Bill was sitting beside you. He sat up straight as soon as you woke up and your eyes met his before tears started streaming down your face, “I-it’s okay, you’re s-suh-safe now.”

You tried to speak and you couldn’t and he just kept telling you that you were safe now and everything would be okay and he stood up, nudging you slightly to push over. He climbed into the hospital bed with you and wrapped you up in his arms carefully.

“I p-promise, I-I-I’ll never le-let anything ha-happen to you a-a-again.” His voice was shaky and there were tears in his eyes as well.

“I saw him, Bill. I saw him.” You sobbed into his chest and clung onto his shirt.

“I-It wasn’t him.” He squeezed you tight and you sighed as your tears slowed down.

“I know... but I just... it’s like after this long I’ve started to forget what it was like to look at his face. Not in the pictures, it’s different. I forgot what his face looked like from my eyes. I forgot about the little freckles that sit on the bridge of his nose and the small scar on his chin from when he was 3 and he hit his chin off the piano. He looked so different. So... dead... but it was him in a way.” You started to cry harder now and you couldn’t stop and Bill grabbed your face between his hands.

“I kn-know. I-I-I’ve seen G-Georgie. I-It’s playing tr-tricks on u-us.” You searched his eyes and saw the hurt and the anguish behind them. His eyes darted over your face as well and you went to speak.

“Bill, I saw-” Before you could finish, he was pressing his lips against yours and you could feel the way his bottom lip quivered into the kiss, like he was trying so hard not to cry as he pressed his lips against yours.

You pulled apart, both of you trying to catch your breath and you looked at him in awe and he knew you were going to ask him why he did that so before you could, he spoke, “I-I almost lo-lost you t-t-today and y/n, that-that scares me kn-knowing that y-y-you could have di-died with-without knowing th-that...” He swallowed hard and took a breath, “Without knowing that I love you.”

He didn’t stutter when he spoke his last few words and your heart soared and your tears came again and you were smiling up at him, “God, I love you too, Bill.” You leaned up and pressed your lips feverishly against his.

“I-I swear, I-I’ll never le-let you get hu-hurt again. I-I’ll die be-before I let that-that happen.”

I actually really liked writing this and I made the reader have a slight backstory so for all of you that don’t have a brother the part where it says y/b/n = your brother’s name, you can just pick any name you would want. This was super short on the fluff but I thought it was really sweet and I hope you guys liked this(:

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littlemissdash · 4 years

Text

in which socks are not a necessity | Alfonse x OC

words: 1818

description: the winter festival has grown too cold to weather a moment longer, and alice seeks peace and warmth in front of the fireplace.

hi @avistella, i was your pinch hitter for the @summonersecretsanta gift exchange! Thank you for being so patient with me in finishing your gift. i hope you enjoy! happy holidays!

It’s so cold. The Winter Festival is always a joyous occasion in Askr, but it’s evening now; the sun has long since set, and there’s a chill seeping into her bones. Alice has already spent the better part of the day entrenched in celebration – people pulling her this way and that, to play this game, to sing these carols, to thank her for guiding the Order of Heroes over and over again – and to be frank, she’s had all she can take for one day! She creaks out of her spot in front of the fire to add another log. As she stokes the flames, she muses that perhaps tomorrow she’ll treat herself by sleeping in. Surely, the castle will go on without its Summoner for an hour or two in the morning?

In fact, the thought of her warm bed is particularly appealing right now…. Once the fire has warmed her skin a little more, she’ll make her way there. In the meantime, she sets about thawing her toes by the heat of the flames.

“You know,” she hears from behind her, “most people would at least consider wearing socks in the winter-time.” There’s a smile in his voice, as though he already suspects what answer she’ll give him; and though she knows he’s only teasing, she can’t hold in a small huff.

“I’m fine without socks, thank you very much. I don’t see you hounding Sharena for wearing shorts in the winter.” She glances over her shoulder at her uninvited guest. The prince has shed his armor for the evening; dressed in a simple tunic and slacks, he nearly looks… ordinary. The thought that she is one of the few people who are lucky enough to see him like this makes her proud (though she’d never admit it out loud).

“No, perhaps not,” Alfonse replies from his place near the door. “But Sharena isn’t quite as sensitive to the cold as you are, and I’d hate for you to get frostbitten toes.” There’s a warm, shy smile on his face, the kind of smile that sparks something hot in her chest, and she turns her gaze back to the fire to hide the color in her cheeks. Alfonse clears his throat and speaks again. “May I… join you there? If I’m not interrupting you.”

Just a minute ago, Alice had been reveling in her solitude; but if it’s him, well… interacting doesn’t feel effortful. She pats the empty floor beside her. “Of course you can.” It’s difficult to resist his hopeful look – not that she tries particularly hard. She returns her attention to the flames, and for a long moment after he settles beside her, there’s nothing but the sound of the fire crackling.

There’s something… intimate about quietly sitting together like this. After the cacophony of war, the bustle of festivals, the arguments and debates of war councils… most days, Alice thinks she’d like to just crawl under her covers and stay there. It would be easier. It would certainly be more peaceful. But sitting together with Alfonse like this… it makes her glad she decided to get out of bed.

“Did you need—” “I wanted to—” They interrupt each other, flushing when they realize their mistake. Alice turns her face in embarrassment, and Alfonse coughs into his hand. “You first,” he insists.

“Did you need a break from all the celebrating?” she asks him.

Alfonse scratches the back of his head. “Well, not quite…” he clears his throat and starts again. “Celebrations like this are welcome. Seeing my people in high spirits… it reminds me why we go out and fight, every day. I am grateful for that.”

When he speaks of his people, the look on his face changes… something between determination and fondness. He loves them dearly. She hopes, one day, she’ll learn to love them with the same fervor.

“They’re welcome, but…?” she probes gently.

“But…. I couldn’t find you,” he admits. Perhaps it’s the light from the fire… but his cheeks almost look a little pink. (It’s terribly endearing.) She can’t help the small smile peeking out on her face. “I have something I wanted to give you,” he adds hastily. It’s only now that she notices that he’s been hiding something behind his back all this time: a small, neatly wrapped gift.

“Huh? But... we already exchanged presents,” Alice protests, flustered by the sudden gift. Did she forget an agreement to exchange extra gifts? Or worse, has he done this out of the goodness of his heart, and she has nothing to repay him with?

“That we did. However, I wanted to give you my true gift in private.” He pauses for a moment, looking for the right words. “It is… selfish of me, perhaps, but I want to be… the only one to see your reaction.” His face is undeniably pink now, but he isn’t avoiding her gaze.

“I – well… alright,” she responds. Alfonse looks satisfied, and a moment later he sets the gift in her hand. “Should I open it now?”

“Please do,” he answers. He’s nervous, she realizes! Even though he’s speaking so boldly to her! What could have Alfonse practically wringing his hands in front of her? Now she’s becoming anxious…. Oh, but now he’s waiting for me to open it….

“The wrapping is very nice,” she says to break the nervous tension between them. “I almost feel sorry to rip it.” Alfonse smiles in response, but doesn’t say anything; she finally bites the bullet and pulls at the ribbon. The wrapping paper is torn off to reveal a small, white box.

She hesitates for just a moment before opening it. Alfonse is watching her eagerly, though she doesn’t know it – she’s too busy taking in the intricate necklace he’s presented her. It’s finely made, that much is clear. The gold metal shines in the light of the fire, delicately shaped and curved in swooping branches to cradle the stone in the center – a bright shade of blue that she recognizes on sight.

It takes a moment before she finds the words to speak, and she’s quieter than she means to be. “The stone…. It’s the same color as the one in Fólkvangr. Isn’t it?”

Alfonse smiles wider now; He had so hoped she would make the connection. “It is,” he says just as quietly. There’s an implication behind the connection of sharing the same stone, though neither of them is quite brave enough to give voice to it. “Do you like it?” he asks instead.

“I… I think it’s gorgeous,” she says truthfully, “and far too much to give me.”

“I commissioned it specifically to be made for you,” he replies evenly.

“That’s even worse!” she groans. The longer she looks at it, the more certain she is that she isn’t worthy of such a meaningful gift. “I don’t mean to scorn your gift, it really is beautiful, but this must have cost so much. I’m hardly worth spending that kind of money on!” Without really wanting to, she pushes it back to Alfonse. “It’s kind of you, really, but I don’t need or deserve this kind of gift.”

He catches her hand, and his smile shifts to a frown. “Alice, you must know I could never agree with that. I had this made because I wanted you to have it.”

Alice shakes her head, avoiding his eyes. “Alfonse, please… it’ll only make me feel guilty. I didn’t prepare you a gift in turn.”

He looks a little crestfallen now, and she regrets her rejection even more. “But you didn’t refuse the circlet when I gave you that. What’s so different about this?” Indeed, the circlet sits comfortably on her head as he speaks. He’s been proud to see her wear it almost daily since he gifted it to her.

She pauses for a moment. “It’s… well, it’s not, I suppose. It’s just that… isn’t this sort of gift… quite sentimental?” She’s almost nervous to look at him now – has she read his gift wrong? Oh, perhaps she should have gone straight to bed after all!

But no, he’s looking at her intently once again. “It is. That’s why I wanted to give it to you in private.” He chooses his words slowly once more. “I hope that you will look at it… and think of me, and know that you are ever on my mind.”

His voice is very nearly reverent, and her protests finally die in her throat. Alfonse makes this sound like – well, not quite a proposal, but almost… a declaration of intent.

She considers his words for a long moment. “If… I don’t accept… would you give this to someone else?” She asks quietly. Her heart is tinged with jealousy now, though she knows it shouldn’t be; if she is to refuse his gift, he ought to do what he pleases with it. Yet, now that she knows what significance this necklace holds… thinking of another woman wearing it leaves a bitter taste in her mouth.

“I will not,” he answers immediately. “If you refuse it now, I will hold onto it until the day that you do accept it.”

Her cheeks are burning hot and her heart is fluttering, jealousy soothed and slotted away for another time. She looks to his eyes for one last hint that he might be wavering, but he’s holding strong; in fact, he raises the necklace u. “May I?”

“…Yes, please,” she finally concedes, turning her back to him and lifting her hair off her neck. Alfonse’s breath hitches at the sight, though he quickly calms himself – the gesture is more intimate than she realizes. He carefully hangs the necklace around her neck. The metal is cold, but his fingers brushing against the nape of her neck are warm. He allows himself to appreciate her little shiver, and then pulls away.

Alice turns to face him. Bathed in the warm glow of the fireplace, cheeks flushed pink and an elusive smile on her face, the necklace – his necklace, nestled on her chest. Alfonse blinks, breath hitching once more, and commits this to memory.

Her voice breaks his reverie. “How do I look?”

He takes a second to find his voice. “Would you stay still a moment longer?” She tilts her head, brow furrowed slightly. “I want to remember you just like this. You look beautiful.” At this, Alice flushes a deep, deep red, and hides her face in her hands. “No, no, I mean it!” Alfonse laughs, leaning in towards her. All of a sudden, he finds that he’s feeling rather giddy. He gently pulls her hands from her face. “You look beautiful like this, too!”

“You’re flattering me,” she accuses, but she’s slowly starting to giggle along with him. And as he kisses her, sweet and slow, Alice prays that this warm feeling inside her will last a little longer.

#fire emblem #oc x canon #alfonse #summoner oc #secret santa #fire emblem heroes #dash writes #dear lord i haven't written in so long #please forgive me for the spots it winds too much

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fics-not-tragedies · 4 years

Text

Memories to be made: Chapter 2

one - two - three

It’s the second chapter already, since I’m too keen to post it after such a warm welcome from my mutuals.

SUMMARY: Emelia and Keanu go out to have a dinner together. Words: 3271; Warnings: none;

Readers tag list:

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The heavy rain was falling from the dark clouds for more than two hours now, making them feel like two years instead, the big droplets clattering against the window, leaving damp smudges on the clear glass. It just didn’t wanted to go away. It might have stopped for a moment, when she was heading here, to the restaurant, giving her a chance of arriving for her date mostly un-soaked.

How the fortune decided to smile and wink at her, letting the sun shine, peak shyly from behind the obscure clouds, right in the time when she was trying to get to the restaurant on time, the tube’s schedule wasn’t helping and the thought of taking a cab was still too terrifying for her to do it all by herself.

Whole sky felt like a terrible misunderstanding.

Just like her whole life now did.

Day turned into the night, the gloominess wasn’t really helping in going out. Even if it was supposed to be a date with the softest and purest boy she has ever met.

Emelia was happy to see him nonetheless. It was the thought of growing closer, as well as opening up to him, that frightened her the most.

It seemed like the tea advertisement was stalking her everywhere she went. The tall billboard was placed across the street, but she could see it perfectly from the spot in which they were sitting in the restaurant.

In love? Give Tea a Chance.

The slogan sounded to her like some sort of a joke now.

Emelia couldn't be in love with Keanu. It was too soon for any major emotions to appear. But it was clear that she'll give him a chance, even though it will be hard for her to simply let him in.

Letting him in meant that she would have to tell him about her past and about the horrific incident that made her unsure about who she really is.

Along with her memories she lost her identity. She could easily say that she officially and astonishingly unwillingly became a part of the Bourne stories franchise, and she was playing the main role in them, but the small crumpets of her past, which she was rummaging through once again this morning, didn’t helped in the recovery of her memories.

She woke up at 9 a.m., jumping out of bed with the aftermath of another nightmare still stuck in her head, while the heavy droplets of rain were pattering against the big window of her bedroom. Another terrible night filled with visions from her past, scraps and bits she couldn’t sew together, but everything was haunting her consistently night after night.

How terrified she was.

Terrified by her own self. Everything seemed unreal, especially the hazy memory of her mother leaving their house and never coming back, even though she waited for her every second, every day, every week, every month, until the whole year didn’t passed and her dad simply told her that “momma isn’t coming back”.

After all those years, this moment filled with peculiar emotions she felt that day, was one of two things she was able to remember right now. And now, after everything that happened, the memory of her mother leaving them, saddened her even more than it genuinely did when she was four.

“Where are you now, darling?” His warm voice, embraced her like a tight warm hug. She turned her head to look at him, his face too close to hers now. Noticing how his eyes widened as he just stares at her, licking his chapped lips she reflexively scratches her neck through the fabric of her flimsy turtleneck and then just looks away, gluing her gaze to the plate of sushi that the waitress placed few moments ago in front of them.

Emelia was so lost in her own thoughts again, blindly rummaging through the depths of her memory, she hasn’t noticed any single thing that happened around her.

Keanu dared himself to slide his body closer to her along with the chair he was seated in. And he did, surprised that she hasn’t flinched away like a frightened deer in the headlights, moving her chair away from him in a hectic movement. She just stayed there, but looked away, her eyes glued to the window he had behind his back now, scanning the tea advertisement again and again.

He had to admit, that his stare was way too intimidating for something they could’ve called a first date. The whole situation felt hopeless, even though he wasn’t really hoping for anything.

Keanu wasn’t that type.

All he thought about was to hold her hands, that always seemed to be freezing judging by the way she was pulling the sleeves of her turtlenecks basically all the time she was around him. Hide her palms safely inside of his, like they were the most precious treasure in the whole world.

Yes, all he wanted was to hold hands with her. Quite simple, yet still impossible, gesture.

Maybe the night will end with a shy peck of her rouged lips pressed just for a second to his cheek that probably will be flushed long before she would find the guts to even think about doing it.

“I’m sorry, I-I just feel like I’m losing my mind” she mumbled with her mouth filled with another piece of salmon nigiri. He just pressed his hand to his forehead, then ran his fingers through his hair, absolutely unable to find the right words to give her a decent answer.

She swallowed the mouthful and just sighed, taking a sip from the glass.

Did he really ordered plum wine?

“Do you want to talk about it?” He blurted out, without even thinking and his face went red right after realizing what he just said. He’d rather just press his face into his palms and scream into them, he just made himself sound like a fucking douche.

Emelia was silent, too busy munching on the delicious pieces of sushi that she had right under her nose placed on the wide marble-like plate.

Later on, when she’ll arrive home, she would be standing in front of the mirror that’s hanged on the wall in her bathroom picking out the bits of rice that got stuck in the hole in one of her teeth.

She’s ought to see a dentist. It wasn't a painful cavity yet, but surely it was a pain in the ass. This morning, when rummaging through all of her stuff, she spotted a business card with a number to one of the dentists she was visiting frequently. At least she assumed that, after seeing few dates with hours scribbled down on a piece of paper that was attached to it.

She really need to see a dentist soon.

The cogs in her brain were working at their highest efficiency, trying to come up with something clever to say, not just telling him about that damned accident and bursting into tears right after, like she did too often. He still was a stranger, after all, even though she felt that the atoms of her body were connected to those in his.

Strangers.

That’s what they were now. No matter that they were sitting too close to each other, their hips touching, his hand dying to touch her arm, to stroke her cheek, gently caressing her soft skin, to brush away that wild strand of her auburn locks that refuses to stay tucked behind her ear and keeps falling onto her face.

Taking another sip of the wine she finally turned with her whole body to him, placing the glass back on the table and leaning with her elbow onto the back of her chair.

“It’s kinda complicated and…” a scratch of her neck, her fingers pressed firmly to the fabric that she had wrapped around it, rubbing the spot harshly, “I-I don’t know if I can trust you.”

Keanu chuckled nervously, taking his own glass in hand and downing the content of it in one big slurp.

“Absolutely not going to tell people your secrets after our date” okay, he finally admitted that this, in fact, was truly a date and it made them both feel lighter now, like someone just took a heavy weight from their chests.

His Adam’s apple was bobbing up and down in his throat, eyes not leaving her face, waiting for any type of response in inner panic now.

He could’ve chosen better words, fuck.

Would her eye flinch, brow furrow or will she just remain silent till the evening ends?

She tilts her head backwards, hand pressed to her neck, fingers sliding under the hem of the black fabric. Keanu lean closer to her and just took her hand in his, pulling it away from her skin. Emelia stares at him in shock, stunned, unable to bable a word. Her heart races up, thudding against her chest, her face probably in the same shade as her nails painted with the Russian Red.

“D-don’t do it, darling” he breathed out, stroking the top of her hand with his fingers, “I notice you do it every time when you’re feeling stressed or uncomfortable.”

“I-I’m… erm… sorry” she takes her hand abruptly away from his touch and a piece of Keanu’s heart gets torn apart.

The look on his face changes, the brightness in his eyes dulled now, smile disappeared from his face and he just stared at her blankly now, not even bothered by blinking. She feels this thigh knot in her stomach, that urges her to do something, to fix the gesture that he took as unpleasant.

There was nothing wrong with what he did, but he would be still thinking about this tiny detail when he’ll arrive home late in the evening. And every other little thing he did wrong tonight, screwing up his chances for holding her hand again.

It was a small gesture of showing her that he care, but it was too sudden, too alarming, it scared her, made her feel uneasy. In fact she was dying to touch him, run her own finger through the fluff of his hair, stroke his cheek, lay her head on his shoulder. But she had to do it all at her own pace. Not in a rush caused by the plum wine running in their systems and clouding their minds, making them say words and do things that would never happen when they’re sober.

The intimacy was a hard one for her. It was the fact that her own body was a surprise to her, she had to get use to it again, explore it herself first and then give it away to someone, to a special man she still hoped she’ll be able to meet, after two screwed up relationships. Funny how she remembered there were two of them, but she couldn’t put her finger on the names of these men she loved before.

She had to get along with all of those new scars she had carved not only on her skin, but also on her soul and her mind. It was a long, extremely bouncy ride down a steep hill, laden with emotions, bits and crumbs of her past she wasn’t able to recall just yet.

And her mind was similar to a black hole, filled with only scraps of what she was able to call her memories. Frustrating, it all was too frustrating, not being able to remember who she really was.

Emelia gaze is glued to him, her eyes not leaving his face. Keanu is still waiting for some sort of a response, her mouth slightly agape like she wants to say something, but remains silent, not a single vowel leaves her rouge lips.

Finally, after few more seconds of the most painful silence he ever experienced in his whole life, he decides to turn away and grab the pair of chopsticks that are lying on the table right next to their plate.

She laughs.

No, no, she bursts with laughter, the sincere sound of it fills the whole place, echoes in his ears, drenches his whole body, pierces right through his soul. His head turned to her, doe eyes wide, confused a bit. Her nose crinkled, those tiny wrinkles visible all around her eyes, dimples in her cheeks looking even cuter then they did for the first time he had the chance to see them.

“What?” Keanu asked, shaking his head to the side, corners of his own mouth curling upwards, unable to keep a straight face while looking at her smiling like that.

“It looks like you’re about to stab the sushi, not eat it, while you hold them like that” she pointed to those two pieces of bamboo he’s holding in his fingers, “just… let me help you with them” moving her chair even further to his she leaned over, pressed her arm close to his and wraps her fingers around his hand.

Aligning them correctly in his hand she fixes the position of his fingers; placing his middle finger between them, his index finger on the top chopstick and pressing the bottom one onto his ring finger.

Her hand is cold, but not colder than their plum wine; every time her fingers touched his own he felt how the electricity flickers down his arm and all the way to his spine, the tingling feeling spreading all over him.

Running his other hand through his hair he turns to her, “You can teach me a lot of things, darling”, she is still smiling and when she looked up at his face, their gazes met, eyes stuck together, something he can’t properly name urges him to kiss her, right here and right now.

He hovers his face an inch closer to hers and she doesn’t flinch backwards. She just keeps her eyes glued to his, blinking almost in slow motion, her long black eyelashes moving in a butterfly-like flow.

So he does it once again, getting closer and closer bit after bit. And he stops, seeing how her brows furrows, but a smile stayed glued to her lips.

Oh, how he’d sell his soul to the devil himself, just to kiss her once, just to press his mouth gently to hers and see how they taste.

Reaching to the plate with her own chopsticks, she takes a piece of tuna nigiri in them and moves her hand between their faces, pressing the piece of sushi to his lip. Emelia giggles, seeing his reaction, how he rolled his eyes and gasped, but opened his mouth eating it nonetheless.

“You should start eating, unless you want me to have the whole dinner for myself and stick to just keeping me company” stuffing her own mouth with another piece she munched on it wiggling her brows to Keanu.

“Maybe I like to be fed” he mumbled between chewing, “by you” he adds after swallowing the rice-y delish.

“Quite the fetish” she chuckled, eating another piece, then taking a long sip from her glass.

He glanced at her between swallowing his bites and reaching for another ones. It seems like she’s more relaxed now. At least she stopped scratching this one spot on her neck, that’s what he noticed so far.

Impulsive behavior, that was it. A way of copying with stress. Unpleasant mannerism.

She cleared her throat and his eyes immediately left his glass which he was filling with more of the plum wine. His gaze jumped back onto her face, studying every little detail that can possibly change about it.

“The problem is” she says leaning in, “if I kissed you, I don’t think I’d be able to stop” Keanu flinched closer to her, pressing his face towards the touch of her hand that simply brushed the rice stuck in one corner of his mouth.

There’s not much he can do now, so he just laughed at his own self. Such a fool he is, a fool for her.

“Who says you have to stop?” He casually reached for his glass and took a sip from it, their eyes stuck together, as he’s the one wiggling his brows now making her laugh.

“This white shirt really suits you, Keanu” the way his name rolls off her tongue, the way she accents the K and punctuates every single letter sends a shiver through his whole body and down his spine. And again she moves even closer, even though their chairs are pressed together now, almost stacked on top of another, reaching deep down herself to find the proper amount of courage to brush his arm with her fingers.

“I want to take things slowly” she breathed out, touching lightly the skin under the rolled sleeve of his shirt and then slid them down the bared part of his arm. He tensed in the moment Emelia pressed her fingertips to his skin, every muscle in his body stiff.

His mouth was agape, his eyes glued to her every movement, inhaling the view of her index fingers dancing on top of his arm, tracing the outline of his veins. She’s like a little child now, that explores the world for the first time, touching and playing with everything that’s in reach of her tiny hands.

Gulping the lump that formed in his throat he speaks finally, his eyes stuck at her, “So this first date is about touching my arm?”

“Yes” looking up at him she smiled, her dimples showing up again, the gesture like sun - lightning up the whole place, making them all forget about the gloomy weather and the heavy rain that’s still pouring outside, trying to make a point.

“Then touch my arm anytime you want. Emelia, your hands… they are lovely, you should be playing piano with those fingers” Keanu touches the top of her hand with his own calloused fingers, dancing with them, like he was playing a part of some tune his mind just made up.

“I think I did, I-I might have...”

“You did?” his confidence just grew, so he slides his hand from her own to her clothed arm, but she shudders, moving her limb away from his touch.

Now he regrets being too confident. She set the peace and he has to stick to it without rushing anything or making her do things she doesn’t want to.

“Back in the past…” sliding her fingers up and down she tickles him a bit, a small giggle leaving his mouth.

“If you want to get back to it lemme know, I think I can help with it” he smiled at her, the greens of her eyes so bright they transfer him back to juicy fields in the spring.

“I will… I will think of it. Thank you, Keanu” removing her hand from his arm she reaches for her wine glass and keeps it high in the air, “for everything you’ve done so far, even though you might think that you’ve done nothing at all. It’s all in the details, really” he grabbed his own glass and bumped it with hers, the awkward clinking sound making them both laugh.

“No, thank you, darling. For this lovely evening and for everything that will come” they both take a sip from their glasses, smiles still glued to their faces.

How lovable the dimples in her cheeks make her look, when her face is so bright, the corners of her mouth curved all the way upwards, not a single bit of worry visible on her face.

Her smile has the ability to change his life, to turn it around and make it all about her.

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