#i took the week off work and everything so i could read uninterrupted

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

Empty House

Casey Novak x autistic fem!reader Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI. Graphic sex, fingering, language. Word count: 1,702 You were more at peace than you'd felt in weeks as you settled into your office chair, a cup of coffee steaming beside you. You always got your work done, of course, but it was harder and took longer with the girls running in and out of your home office, not to mention King's constant needs. For the first few weeks of your foster placement, Casey had taken some time off work so you could all get settled. But when she'd gone back to work, the lion's share of childcare had fallen to you, for the pure, logistical fact that you worked from home.

It wasn't that you minded, exactly. You loved the kids, each in their own particular way, and loved taking care of them. You still got your work done, after all. But you missed the days where it was just you and the work, where you could be completely focused, without King waking up early from his nap or Imogen and Laylie badgering you for grilled cheeses. But today was Imogen's first day of fourth grade. You and Laylie and King had dropped her off at her new school, and you hoped with everything in you that the day would go well. Imogen's school day wasn't over until 3:00 PM, and Casey's mom had graciously offered to take Laylie and King for the day a few times a week, so you could have a break and get some work done. You'd had Carol fill out the foster care respite provider paperwork during the kids' first week at home, when she was nearly bursting with excitement to meet them. You and Casey had decided to wait to introduce the kids to anyone else until after the first week, which was almost more than Carol could bear. She texted Casey incessantly. And when Casey stopped responding, Carol moved on to you. Partly to keep her at bay and partly because you knew it'd come in handy later, you'd sent her the respite paperwork. Now, sitting peacefully in the office, lo-fi beats thumping softly through the speakers, you congratulated yourself on your foresight. You were about halfway through your work day, enjoying your uninterrupted Zoom calls and the steady flow of working well, when you got a text from Casey. How's your day going? ❤️ Good! You? 💖 Same old, same old. Murderers, etc. 🔪 Are the kids driving you crazy yet? No, they're actually with your mom for the day. 🙏🏻 You waited for a response, but when none came you assumed she was in court or an interview or somehow otherwise occupied. Being left on read was pretty par for the course with Casey. It came with the job. You knew it wasn't anything personal. You got back to work and, a few minutes later, were on a Zoom call with one of your favorite coworkers, discussing a new advertising campaign for a healthcare company. You were outlining deliverables when you heard the door to your apartment open and shut. You turned your head and furrowed your eyebrows."You good?" your coworker asked.

"Yeah..." You waited a beat before continuing. "Hey, let me hit you back in a little bit, I think my wife–"

Your office door slammed open, cutting you off, and revealing a very flushed and frazzled Casey in the doorway, presumably having biked here at top speed.

"Hey," she said, panting, leaning against the wall to catch her breath.

Your coworker waved from the computer screen. "Hey, Casey!"

"Hi!" she called back. "Can I borrow her for a few minutes?"

"Sure!" He gave you both a thumbs up before signing off.

You closed out of Zoom and swiveled to face Casey, concerned. "Are you okay?" you asked. "Why are you h–"

Casey's lips slammed into yours, her legs straddling your lap as she kissed you hungrily, desperately. Your stomach somersaulted, and you tried, mostly failing, to keep your bearings about you as her tongue moved into your mouth, her hips grinding into you. When she slipped a hand into your waistband, you pulled away.

"Woah!" you said, grabbing her hands and holding them back. "I'm at work!" You squinted at her. "And you're also at work, right? Don't you have court today?"

She pressed her lips to yours again, breathless. "Not for another hour."

"Casey," you protested, always the more realistic one. "It'll take you half that time to bike back."

She whined, sinking her teeth into your neck. You moaned a little, despite your better judgment. "I don't care," she stated. Casey looked at you with such need, such desperation, like you were something to be devoured–you couldn't help but smirk.

You bit your lip, weighing when your coworker expected you back on Zoom and how quickly you could get Casey off.

"Come on!" she pleaded, wrapping her arms around your neck and running a hand through your hair. "The kids are gone! Please, it's been so long!"

You laughed, eyes sparkling as you basked in her neediness. "We literally had sex two days ago!"

Casey was getting more and more turned on, continuing to push her hips into you. She pressed her head into your shoulder as she sought more friction. "Yeah," she said breathily. "But we have to be so quiet when the kids are sleeping."

You sighed, running your thumbs up and down Casey's waist, and glanced at the clock. "Alright," you relented. "But it's gonna have to be in the shower because I don't have time to fuck you and shower after."

Casey nearly tripped lunging off your lap and sprinting to the bathroom, leaving a trail of clothes strewn behind her. You grinned and followed her, pretty damn pleased with yourself that she wanted you this badly on a Monday at noon.

When you walked in, Casey was already completely undressed, running a hand under the shower head to gauge the water temperature. You pulled off your clothes and folded them carefully, placing them on the counter.

Casey stood impatiently next to the shower, arms crossed over her chest, clearly trying and failing not to pressure you into moving faster.

You nodded at her, and she smiled–a huge, goofy grin–and stepped into the shower. You followed, resting your hands on her hips and pulling her to you.

Her breath caught in her throat as you ran your tongue across it. "I don't have much time for extracurriculars," you told her, biting her earlobe. She groaned, grabbing your ass and pulling you into her.

"I don't need anything extra today," she said, planting kisses across your collarbone. "Just fuck me."

"As you wish," you said, shoving her against the shower wall. She gasped as her skin hit the cold tile, moaning when you maneuvered your thigh in between her legs. "You're gonna have to work with me," you said, taking one of her breasts in your mouth and swirling your tongue around the nipple.

Casey didn't need any encouragement. By the way she was rutting against you, her breath hot, brows scrunched in concentration, you could tell she was already close.

You reached a hand down and slid your fingers through her folds. Already wet. And not from the water. She bucked into you, almost pushing you off balance. You repositioned your leg so that you were more solid, and so that Casey's clit would push directly into your leg. As you slid two fingers into her and curved them toward you, she gasped, wrapping her arms around your neck and laying her head on your shoulder.

Casey did most of the work; all you did was hold her up, keeping a steady rhythm with your fingers, pumping in and out. Her body clenched around you as she chased her climax, her nails pressing half moons into the skin of your back. She growled and bit you–hard–and you knew it'd leave a nasty bruise on the back of your shoulder, which would drive Casey mad later.

Her breath came faster and faster as she bucked wildly against you. It was everything you could do just to hold her, just to keep her from falling. You could tell she was close to the edge. You pushed your fingers back into her, back as far as they could go, gently scraping the soft edges of her, and she jerked into you, emitting something between a cry and a squeak. She came loud and hard, moaning into you, moaning your name, her walls pulsing around your fingers. Her chest heaved, sticky and slick and steaming with the hot water that poured over you. Eventually, she quivered into silence, her hips still jerking into you as the last of her orgasm left her.

Casey shook slightly, her head resting on your shoulder, body wrapped tightly around yours. "Thank you," she breathed.

You kissed the side of her head, pushing wet strands of hair out of her face. "Any time."

When she found her balance again, she tipped your chin up and kissed you passionately, with the same intensity and verve with which she'd just come. When she pulled away, it was you who were breathless.

"Can I return the favor?" she asked, smiling cheekily.

You nodded quickly. "God, yes."

Casey had just begun kissing her way down your body when her phone alarm went off.

"Fuck!" she yelled, running a hand through her wet hair.

"Court?" you asked. You already knew the answer.

"Sorry." She slunk out of the shower, apologetic.

"It's okay. I can take care of myself."

Her eyes widened as she toweled off. "Don't do that! I'll do it later!"

You threw up your hands in mock frustration. "As in, hours later after the kids go to bed!?"

"Oh, come on." Casey needled you, pulling on her bra and pantyhose. She bit her lip and smirked at you. "No one makes you come like I do, not even you."

"I hate that you're right." You squirted shampoo into your hand and scrubbed it through your hair, pointing a soapy finger at her. "But for the record, you started this!"

Casey collected the rest of her clothes from the hallway, pulling them on as she went. She checked her appearance in the mirror once and shrugged, then quickly pulled your top half out of the shower stream.

"Thank you," she said, kissing you quickly and rushing her words. "I love you so much. I promise I'll make it up to you later."

She ran out of the bathroom, and you called after her, "You're gonna go to court with wet hair!?"

"It'll dry on the way!" she yelled, the door slamming shut behind her.

You shook your head, lathering your body with soap, trying to come down from how much Casey had turned you on. One thing was for sure: it was going to be a lot harder to focus on work this afternoon.

#casey novak #casey novak x reader #casey novak drabble #casey novak one shot #casey novak smut #law and order svu #svu #autistic #neurodivergent #casey novak x autistic reader #x autistic reader #novak family chronicles

[helloliriels]

Sleepless (Part 5)

Read Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | AO3 Fic

Molly felt awful about mailing Sherlock's letter, two weeks later … 

.

The radio program came back on, playing bits of John and Rosie’s conversation, a constant reminder of her betrayal … 

… and Sherlock - too - had appeared in her lab to work out a few details on a pressing case in symphony with the radio timing …

Molly flushed with colour. Unable to turn around and or even to look at him.

.

“Something is bothering you,” Sherlock stated off-hand. As if he didn’t really care about the answer, but was, in fact, annoyed by it … 

.

Molly fussed with paperwork.

"Busy day," she managed, after a moment, then topped it off with a cheery, “what did you think of the program on New Years?” before she could stop herself …

Her voice didn’t even shake.

She was quite proud for this not small feat, but immediately wanted to run and hide … 

.

“Had its moments,” Sherlock acknowledged, reluctantly.

Maybe hiding wasn't necessary ... 

“… but I do wish the host would allow her guests to speak without limitations," he added, offhand.

.

She laughed off her nerves, “it is a radio program for entertainment, Sherlock-? She has to keep it on track?”

“Boring,” Sherlock responded, dully. 

.

He wasn’t looking at her. Wasn’t even looking up.

.

“Will you be writing to them, then?” She asked bravely, after several minutes of uninterrupted silence. Again, forcing the casual note to her voice, “to find out the answers you needed …?”

“What answers?” Sherlock cut her off, “I deduced everything within minutes of the show’s ending. Case. Closed.”

“So you weren’t interested in the Doctor? John?” she prodded, “not even a little? ‘Cause I thought-”

“Molly,” he eyed her suspiciously. Her heart stopped for a second. But then he went back to his research, “I hope I would have more sense than to act like a silly schoolgirl sending notes,” he spat the last word with extreme derision.

.

“... Besides,” he added -

.          A few moments after she had started breathing again -

“... the relationship would never have worked out.”

.

She froze.

.       “And why’s that?” she laughed ... trying not to look too anxious for his reply … 

.

.        Shit. Shit. SHIT!

.        ... Why did she send off that letter???

.

“I’m a detective ,” he barked, startling her,

.     “I chase criminals through the streets of London on a regular basis!

.           I get death threats and have been kidnapped on more than one occasion!

.                    And OH?! Have I mentioned my inability to make or keep friends …? 

.                           Hardly the type of person a Doctor and the Father of a Small Child is going to want as a roommate ... hmmm?"

.

Molly stepped back a pace.

.          “You've been kidnapped?” she asked, horrified ... 

.

He sighed. Rolling back around to face his work.

“Twice as an adult. Once as a child. Risks of the trade.”

.

Molly stood speechless.

He took another deep breath - a calming breath - she thought … and looked away. 

“Now if you would leave me be?” he asked politely, “I have work to finish, and a plane to catch.”

.

“Another? Where to this time?” she hoped her smile was reassuring, but doubted it.

“Amsterdam,” he replied, still not looking up.

“Vacation then?” she tried for a more cheery note, but was shot down.

“Hardly,” Sherlock huffed, and drew out his notepad.

.               The same notepad that he had used to write the letter …

And scribbled a few words before looking back up at her surprised expression.

He took her silence as want of more explanation, and filled her in, “I’m following a trail of bank exchanges that will hopefully lead me to a blackmailer and a potential human trafficker. Teens have been going missing. Will probably be gone a few weeks. Maybe a month. If the trail leads elsewhere … "

.

“Oh.”

. She stepped back a pace, collecting herself,

. “yeah, ‘course. Silly me!”

.

She made her way back to her workstation, and they finished their tasks in silence. Her stomach growing more and more knotted with every passing, guilty, minute … Wondering … should she say something? … Confess?

Half an agonising hour later, he was grabbing his coat,

.        and then he paused - to her surprise - in the doorway …

.

“Besides …,"

. he added, quietly, as if they were still carrying on their conversation from earlier,

.                    “... what would I have to offer him?”

.

.

A stunned and blinking Molly could only watch as he disappeared down the hall and out the double doors. His shoulders slumped. His long, billowing coat, the only thing alive about his demeanour ... 

Unable to answer ...

            All the reasons she had fallen for him, already.

.

... She no longer regretted sending the letter.

SLEEPLESS IN LONDON (continued below!)

Rosie was pulling John along at a quick clip, on their way home from school. “Hang on a mo’?” he laughed, trying to keep up without letting go … “what’s the big rush?” 

“The post, Daddy!” She tugged harder.

“The … post …?” He asked, perplexed. The light bulb dawned, just as she reached their door and was peering in through the letter slot. She slumped in disappointment and looked up at John with huge, almost tearful eyes … 

“No letters?” she whinged.

She was disappointed.

.

John picked her up and carried her, floppy bunny and all, into their tiled entryway, dropping the keys on the side table … “I’m sorry, kiddo? Were you expecting there to be some toda-?”

They heard a shuffle of feet on the front steps, and both turned around to see a postman standing there. Two large bundles in his hands! 

.

“Doctor … John Watson?” 

.

The man was reading off the top letter on the stack.

“That’s me!” John squeezed Rosie’s hand and let go to accept the large bundles of letters. Glancing down to catch the look of barely contained glee in his daughter’s eyes … 

“Thank you!” John nodded, and went to shut the door - but the postman was halting him?

.

“I got two more to deliver? Where ya want ‘em?”

.

“Two more bundles?” John asked, amazed!

“Oh no,” the man replied - John laughed with relief - then the man gestured, “I got two full delivery bags in the van.”

.

John blinked.

. Did he say … two full bags???

.

“You want ‘em in here?” The post man was already eyeing their narrow entryway.

.

“I … uh …,” John ran his fingers through his hair, still processing the shock of this revelation. Even little Rosie seemed overwhelmed by the news! “Yeah, Christ. Guess that … would be … fine-?” 

He met Rosie’s awed expression with a shy smile. She was really getting her hopes up … 

“Right you are!” the man was already off to collect the rest ... 

.

.          ... and all John could do was step back and marvel at the enormous pile it made when they were emptied at his feet.

@johnlocky @fluffbyday-smutbynight @chinike @rhasima @mydogwatson @kettykika78 @mxster-jocale @cupidford @meetinginsamarra @peageetibbs @calaisreno @7-percent @john-smiths-jawline @anyway-kindness @swissmissing @inevitably-johnlocked @totallysilvergirl @kittenmadnessandtea @topsyturvy-turtely @safedistancefrombeingsmart @colourfulwatson @holmesianlove @kabubsmagga @peanitbear @copperplatebeech @tiverrr @pocketwatchofmycroft @mutedsilence @2smach @loki-lock @daltongraham @amyreadsandstresses @raina-at @discordantwords @gregorovitchworld @bluebellofbakerstreet @sarahthecoat @reveling-in-mayhem @midgemao @ileenhaddockhawkins @storytellingdreamer @fuckcannibals @cortinita @marisaysthings @charlies-storybook @salmonsown @iamjustreading @myriath @tinchensblog @iwlyanmw

(let me know if you want tagged/removed anytime)

#sleepless in london #johnlock fan fic #johnlock #helloliriels #sleepless in seattle #au #i am johnlocked #halp! #fic updates!

[book-of-baba-fett]

hiiii iris!!! how about softer world #23 for rex and talia?

Leo!! Thanks so much for sending this in. I am so obsessed with the vibes of this. Also sorry it took me long to get to my brain just doesn't cooperate with me. also whoops i made it a lil angsty

warnings: nothing except for some reference to PTSD related dreams

We talk in the dark as we fall asleep, and we are objects in the night sky outside of time. (it is the exact opposite of alone.)

The silence of space always seemed the loudest during the 'night' shift on Republic Navy ships. The ranking clone officers had a preference to be off duty, with younger clones taking over posts, and the Jedi would usually retire for the evening alone, using their solitude to meditate or communicate with Coruscant. For Rex and Talia, it was a rare chance to be in one another's company uninterrupted.

They used Rex's quarters most often; the warmth of his presence always helped Talia unwind after a long day and his own space radiated that comfort. Sometimes she felt most at home in this tiny durasteel room than she ever did in her quarters at the Temple. They had turned the lights off over an hour ago, yet sleep was still evading Rex. The drone of the ventilation systems seemed more grating than usual, an incessant hum that wouldn’t leave him be. He adjusted as well as he could in the bed, already a small space for one person but downright cramped for two, not that either would ever complain about sharing it with one another. Talia’s low breaths tickled the back of his spine as she exhaled, her arm draped loosely over his waist after she had fallen asleep holding him. 

Rex shifted slightly again, trying to find a more forgiving spot on the mattress, but even as he closed his eyes once more his mind was too active; images of holomaps and replays of battles in the days before imprinted in his vision. Rex sighed and slowly rolled over, trying to not jostle the bed much as he turned facing Talia. His efforts to not awake Talia failed as Rex could see her face scrunching in the darkness, her eyes slowly opening as she softly yawned. 

“Can’t sleep again?” She asked groggily, her voice husky. Her hand brushed up and down his back as her eyes found his through the dark, “I can make you some tea to help?”

‘Don’t get up for me,” Rex shook his head, already feeling a pit of guilt for waking her up. “I’ll be fine; just go back to sleep.”

Talia frowned, her eyes still locked on him as she sternly said “You’ve barely slept all week.”

“How would you know if you were sleeping?” Rex retorted with the lightest flick of a smirk.

“I know everything,” Talia deadpanned. Her hand drifted up his side so she could softly cup his cheek. Her voice softened, a hint of worry peaking in, “What’s bothering you?”

“Nothing,” Rex replied when in truth it was everything. But he couldn’t put words to his troubles, not easily and not at this hour. He couldn’t talk about the nightmares that plaqueed him whenever he did manage to fall asleep, ones that placed him back on Umbara, or the mines on Kadavo. Or how his dreams replayed moments in battle, where instead of shots narrowly missing Talia they managed to hit her. No, Rex couldn’t let her worry. He knew Talia saw right through him, and he knew if she were more awake she would remind him how bad of a liar he was. Instead she stared at Rex in that way that made him think she was reading his mind, even with all the times she assured she wasn’t, that that wasn’t how it worked. Still, Talia read him better than any book, knew what each subtle expression on his face meant, could hear the tone behind every sigh or long exhale. 

Her knuckles softly grazed along the stubble covered skin of his cheek as she raised her hand to the side of his head, her nails lightly scraping against his buzzed hair before her fingers began to slowly circle over his temple. It was the simplest of motions, but it was the most sedative thing Rex had ever felt.

Was it some Jedi trick she would play on him, or were her hands that calming on their own; Rex never deigned to ask. He just welcomed her soft touch, succumbed to the way it soothed his restless mind. All he knew was that any night Talia performed this simple motion with her fingers against his scalp, Rex slept dreamlessly and calmly, waking up more restful than he would think was possible the night before, with Talia in his arms.

--

IA Taglist -

@djarrex @justanothersadperson93 @paige6768 @saltywintersoldat @clonecyaree @dinner-djarin @whore4rex @swlover2187 @collectoroffics @pinkiemme @twistedstitcher27 @frietiemeloen @a-c-lee @ashotofspotchka @galacticgraffiti @itsagrimm @rexandechosandwich @immortalhdx @lady--kenobi @stankferrik @aquaamethyst96 @mavendeb @alwayssnivellus @rain-on-kamino @staryskyforever @amyroswell @lucyysthings @manqoz @ilikemymendarkandfictional @punkpirate82 @paperplanes221 @saturnsokas @starstofillmydream @wild-karrde @purgetrooperfox @sleepingsun501 @burningfieldof-clover @seriowan @samspenandsword @sunshinesdaydream @babygirlrex0504

#captain rex x oc #captain rex x ofc #rex and talia #ia fanfic #illicit affairs fanfic #writing prompt

[moonjxsung]

sTAR PLS 🤭🤭🤭 your little 👀 had my jaw dropping cos i'm so excited for it, im literally gonna block off time in my day to just sit down and read whatever you publish. when you posted the hanji fic i was like omg i need to finish my homework NOW, so i can read stars masterpiece when im done–uninterrupted.

i can't imagine how tiring it must be to chase down the people that steal your work to post them on other sites, trying to get the stolen work taken down or at least the credit that you rightfully deserve. i'll miss the drabbles of course, but i'd much rather have a star who isn't drained and tired chasing after these thieves <3 the stuff i write are drabble length i think? 1k-3k words, and even though i'm a smaller writer on this app, the possibility that my work could be stolen is always in the back of my mind.

right now its exam season. i had a midterm earlier (saturday at 9am 🤢 a crime) and then i have 3 more coming up in the next couple of weeks. at this point i just want to pass and get the credit so 🤞🤞 im coming off anon just to show you some pics i took while waiting for the eclipse and then when it happened

i'm not very knowledgeable about astronomy but god, i love it so much. the stars, the moon, space and everything, it's so breathtakingly beautiful it relaxes me.

i'm happy to hear you're going out and eating some good food, ugh i love some good food. stay safe always 🫶 ilysm pookie 🌸

I LOVE YOU SO MUCHHHHWJWKKALKSDJ I blocked off the entire day today to just stay in and WRITE I’m trying to get it finished before April’s over but we shall see 👀 IM SO EXCITED THAT YOU’RE EXCITED THOUGH SJSKXLXLSKSLSKDK

God the wattpad thieves are just rampant on here. I never thought it would be this bad considering I feel like tumblr isn’t as popular as it used to be? But boyyyyy was I wrong 😀 I’m doing the best I can coping and I have no intention of scrapping my longer stuff so it’s all good 🫶

GOOOOD LUCK WITH EXAMS MY LOOOOVE AHHHH you got this my love!!!!!! I believe in you!!!!!!! 🫶 this is the final stretch and then you’ll have some time to breathe and relax RAHHH manifesting good grades all around and some fun plans to celebrate when it’s over 🫶

ALSO THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE ECLIPSE PICS OH MY GODDDDDD I missed it because I had a 3 hour conference with a client I couldn’t miss and I’m still so sad about it but I love seeing it through your eyes and I’m so glad you got to witness it !! I love the moon she’s so beautiful I hope you always get to see the moon look so pretty and I hope you never miss astronomical phenomena when they occur 🌙⭐️✨💫 I do have some cutie pics of the moon from the past month I’ll add even though I didn’t catch the eclipse she’s SOOOO cutie 👼

I love you sweet angel I’m glad you’re doing well!!!! Go crush your exams and tell me all about it, I’ll be rooting for you from over here 👼💫⭐️🌙✨🫶💞💖💝💕

#🌸 anon #ask

[indathreneblue]

3am Kara - Ch. 4/4

Inspired to write this by a line found in a wiki article by @kryptamazon about biphasic/polyphasic sleep: “This was also a favourite time for scholars and poets to write uninterrupted, whereas still others visited neighbours, engaged in sexual activity, or committed petty crime.”

--------

Ch 4: Petty Theft

It’s not a crime, she told herself. Not really. She was leaving plenty of money on the counter — enough to cover the cost of what she was taking, plus extra for the trouble — and she didn’t even break into the shop. A window had been left open on the second story and she just sort of let herself in. She’d tip-toed around bags of cocoa beans, sugar, and cocoa butter, then quietly walked down the stairs where she found the display case and…well...yeah. So maybe it was a crime. But even if it was, she had good reason. Tonight was special.

She and Lena officially became a couple one year ago today, and Kara was determined they celebrate their anniversary properly. She’d started researching restaurants months ago, made reservations at a place both of them would love, and even left work early today so she could get dressed up without rushing. And, of course, everything went off the rails halfway through dinner. Not even halfway. The appetizers had only just been placed on the table when Alex’s call came through, and Lena knew from Kara’s expression that she had to leave.

“Don’t worry about it,” Lena assured her. “I’ll get these and our entrees wrapped up, and you can meet me at my place after.”

Kara kissed Lena on the cheek and quickly slipped out a side door, but as she took to the skies, she let out a soft sigh. She’d really wanted tonight to be special. To make matters worse, the emergency cascaded into a series of crises, and now Kara was exceptionally late for meeting back up with Lena. She didn’t want to show up past midnight empty-handed, so here she was, at a small chocolatier’s in Metropolis, because Lena had once mentioned she had a weakness for their matcha truffles.

Kara wrote a note to go along with the cash — she didn’t want the proprietors worrying this would become a repeat offense. She didn’t use those exact words, though, because that would make her sound like a real criminal. This was petty theft at best (no need to bring up the trespassing part of it) and not really theft at all because she was leaving money.

Just as she was about to make her escape — nope, not an escape, she wasn’t a criminal — she noticed a small display of hot chocolate. She debated it for a second, then grabbed a tin. The truffles were for Lena, but the cocoa was calling Kara’s name, and at this point ‘in for a penny, in for a pound’. She added a quick addendum to her note, placed some more money on the counter, then snuck back out the way she came.

It didn’t take long for Kara to fly to Lena’s apartment, but as she approached the penthouse balcony, she realized Lena might not still be awake. It had been a long week for the both of them, and she wouldn’t fault Lena if she’d succumbed to slumber. But as Kara softly touched down, she spied Lena reading a book on the couch, sipping at what Kara guessed was tea (it was what Lena drank at night when she wanted to be alert but not wired).

Kara slid open the glass door and offered a quiet ‘hi’ as she made her way over. “I’m sorry it took so long.”

“No need to be sorry, Kara. You know I understand.”

“I know,” Kara sighed. “But it’s our anniversary. And I wanted tonight to just be about you and me.”

Lena set down her book and mug and came to stand in front of Kara. “The night’s not over yet,” she said, then slipped the small gift bag out of Kara’s hands to put on the coffee table.

“That’s for you,” Kara protested softly.

“And I’m sure I’ll love it,” Lena answered, bringing her hands up to softly cup Kara’s face, “but right now, you’re what’s most important and what I want most.” And then Lena brought her lips to Kara’s, and the love she conveyed made Kara realize she needn’t have gone through all her earlier troubles.

Kara kissed Lena back with as much love and affection as she could, and all Kara could think was, Rao, she loved this woman so much. They eventually both pulled back and gazed at each other silently for a while — Lena tucking a curl of hair behind Kara’s ear, Kara brushing her thumb along Lena’s jaw — until matching smiles bloomed on both their faces.

“Happy anniversary, Kara.”

It didn’t seem possible, but Kara’s smile got wider.

“Happy anniversary, Lena.”

—

Late the next morning — and it barely qualified as morning because ten more minutes and it would have been afternoon — Kara lumbered into the kitchen, drawn by the smell of fresh coffee. The bag she’d brought Lena last night was on the island, the contents laid out neatly.

“Oh! You found my gift!”

Lena looked up from her tablet, a slow smirk appearing. “I did. But Kara -” and Lena slowly turned the tablet towards Kara, “do you know anything about this?”

It was an article from The Metropolitan Times. Kara stepped closer, hoping somehow her eyes were deceiving her. But the image and text didn’t change, and a blush bloomed on her face.

“I can explain.”

“Oh, you already did. I read the note.” Lena pointed at the image onscreen. “Who would have thought, between a Luthor and a Super, the Super would be the one engaging in late-night thievery.”

“It wasn’t thievery,” Kara groaned. “I left money.” But then Lena’s words registered, and Kara’s eyes widened. “Wait, do they know it was me?”

Lena laughed. “Relax, Kara. Did you even read the headline?”

Kara quickly glanced down at the screen, then sighed in relief when she read the headline: “Leaving on a Sweet Note: Chocolate Bandit Creates Delicious Mystery.” Thank Rao, no one else had figured it out. She could — and would — endure a fair amount of teasing from Lena, but if Alex or any of her friends had found out, she’d never hear the end of it.

Unfortunately, her relief was short-lived. When her phone buzzed on the counter — once at first, followed by many more in quick succession — a feeling of dread washed over her. Lena quickly held her hands up in defense. “I didn’t say a thing.”

Kara stared at her phone for several long seconds. This is what she got for having a team of superfriends. Maybe Batman was onto something with his whole loner superhero gig.

She took a moment to gather some courage, then swiped open her phone to reveal a flurry of texts from a group chat. At the top was a screenshot and a link to the article, followed by Alex’s “I recognize your handwriting, Kara….care to explain?!” and everyone else’s eager comments below. Kara buried her face in her hands. She was never going to live this down. The screenshot was a picture of her note — a large heart outline with her words of apology within:

I’m so so sorry. Normally, I’d never do something like this, but there’s a very special person out there who deserves better than a girlfriend messing up anniversary plans. She’s kind and wonderful and I love her more than I can even express, so please trust me when I say she deserves everything. And she’s usually a super healthy eater, but she told me how much she likes your chocolates and I thought I’d surprise her with some, but by the time I got here you guys were closed and I didn’t know what else to do for her, and again I’m really sorry. I left more than enough money, so I hope that makes up for any trouble, and it won’t happen again, I promise.

PS. I took two boxes of matcha truffles.

PPS. Also, a tin of your hot chocolate.

--------

Also on AO3 here: 3am Kara

#supergirl #kara danvers character study #supercorp #biphasic sleep adventures

[poetrusicperry]

Running Towards Nothing

Chapter Four

chapter one | chapter two | chapter three

a/n: hello, it has been AGES since i posted an update for this fic. i swear to you i didn’t forget about it, i have so many chapters written out, i just fall short with editing and actually posting ): hope you’re all well !! <3

chapter summary: a day of fun ensues between a few of the boys, but things devolve rather quickly into something no one but neil saw coming.

warnings: homophobia, swearing, violence, blood, angst (let me know if i missed any or you’d like anything to be added !!)

word count: 2674

–

       After their walk, Todd found it easier to be around Neil, but still hadn’t made any other conscious effort to hang out with him. The chance came, though, one Saturday morning in October when Neil invited Todd out for the umpteenth time. And Todd, surprising everyone (but mostly himself), said yes.

      “Really?” Neil did a double take, halfway through pulling his coat on.

      “Uh… yeah,” Todd sat up. He’d gotten back from breakfast a few minutes prior and had picked up his poetry book to lay in bed and read when Neil asked.

      “Forgive me for seeming surprised,” Neil laughed, “You’ve just never said ‘yes’ before,”

      “I know. But I’m tired of being in the dorms. Might be nice to get out before the weather turns,” he shrugged. And I also want to hang out with you, Todd thought, shaking the voice in his head away.

      “Well… Cool,” Neil smiled, “It’s just me, Charlie, Meeks, and Pitts. I’ll go tell them you’re tagging along today,” but before Neil could make it to the door, Charlie threw it open.

      “What’s up, fuckers?”

      “Charlie! Todd’s coming with us today!” Neil beamed, seeming way too excited about it.

      “No shit, really?” Charlie turned to Todd, grinning, “Guess Pittsie and Knox owe me twenty bucks,” he smirked.

      “What for?” Todd asked, gathering his coat into his arms.

      “Oh, nothing, really. We just placed bets on if you were ever going to hang out with us,” Charlie shrugged.

      “Oh,” Todd mumbled, blushing.

      “Don’t sweat it. All my friends are idiots,” Neil teased, laughing. Todd gave a close-lipped acknowledgement and the three of the boys entered the hallway where the others were waiting.

      It turned out that sneaking off campus was a lot easier than it seemed. The faculty really only seemed to care during the week, leaving the halls wide open to just walk through uninterrupted and uninterrogated on weekends.

      “Where are we going?” Todd wondered aloud, trailing behind the group. Neil had relinquished his normal front position to hang back near Todd. He didn’t say anything, but that made Todd’s stomach feel a little funny.

      “We’re going apple picking! Charlie found this place a few blocks away,” Neil responded.

      “Yes, and you’re all welcome in advance,” Charlie smirked.

      Having never been apple picking before, Todd was slightly excited. He was used to corn mazes, county fairs with chili cookoffs, and deep-fried everything. The chance to experience something new made him nervous, but also piqued his interest. When they arrived at the orchard, there were a handful of people there. They grabbed two wooden buckets between the five of them and split into two groups. After much deliberation, Neil and Todd were a group, leaving Charlie, Meeks, and Pitts as the other. The plan was to pick apples for a half hour, then meet back at the front of the farm to get rung up. Meeks had smartly implemented a limit of how many apples they could take since they had to carry them all the way back to campus. Commending him for the sentiment, Neil and Todd took off in the opposite direction of the other three, Todd’s chest feeling like an empty chasm with tennis balls racketing around aimlessly.

      “I bet there isn’t much apple picking in Arizona?” Neil mentioned as they made their way down the aisles of trees.

      “Uh… No,” Todd said, “I don’t really know how it works,”

      “It’s pretty easy actually,” Neil replied with a laugh, “Basically you just pick however many of whatever kinds of apples you want, then you get them weighed– though, some farms do it by quantity– and you pay. A lot of farms have other products like apple donuts, or cider, or coffee that you can also buy at the register,” Neil smiled, reaching into a branch to pick an apple that had caught his eye.

      “Oh,” Todd smiled, admiring how long and elegant Neil’s body was. Snap out of it, he told himself, “okay,” he nodded a bit, reaching for an apple of his own.

      When the boys had returned to the dorms, bagfuls of apples in tow, Meeks and Pitts went back to their room, leaving Todd alone with Neil and Charlie. After setting the bag of apples on his desk, Todd wiped his hands on his pants and took a deep breath. Charlie flopped onto Neil’s bed and stretched out as if it were his own while Neil leaned on his desk.

      “Well that was a lovely day,” Charlie sighed, clearly satisfied.

      “It really was,” Neil smiled, glancing at Todd. Todd gave Neil a small smile.

      “Of course it was! Spent with Meeks, Pittise, and my favorite gays,” Charlie giggled, pulling a cigarette out of the pack in his pocket, lighting it as if it were second nature. Todd froze at Charlie’s words, his smiling fading faster than Charlie could flick his lighter on.

      “What?” Todd looked at him, eyebrows completely knit, his face heating up. Charlie raised his eyebrows, confused.

      “What…?” he questioned, not understanding what Todd was asking about.

      “What did you just call me?” Todd stood a little straighter, his shoulders tensed.

      “I… I was just saying like… I was hanging out with my… favorite people all day…” Charlie was treading lightly. He hadn’t even noticed he said what he said until Todd’s reaction.

      “Todd, it was just a joke– Charlie didn’t mean anything by it…” Neil had brought himself off the edge of his desk and was standing upright, mirroring Todd.

      “No, what did you call me? I want you to say it. What did you call me?” Todd’s tone had taken a turn neither Charlie nor Neil had heard before. And Todd’s accent began to peak out from behind the curtains. Neil knitted his eyebrows at Todd.

      “I was just saying like… I was hanging out with–”

      “Charlie, what the FUCK did you just call me?” Todd’s voice rose even more, his accent almost full-blown.

      Neil stepped closer to him, “Todd, calm down,” he motioned his hands in a “tone it down” kind of way, but Todd knocked them aside.

      “I’m not fucking gay,” Todd was staring daggers at Charlie.

      “Todd, stop. He didn’t mean–” Neil began, only to be shoved by Todd. He stumbled backward and looked at Neil. At this, Charlie sprung out of Neil’s bed and rushed to them.

      “What the hell are you doing, Todd?” he interrogated, standing next to Neil. Neil’s face was equal parts embarrassed, sad, and confused as he regained his balance.

      “I said I’m not FUCKING GAY. Okay? Don’t ever fucking call me that again. I’m not some messed up queer like you, alright?” he gestured to Neil as his accent became painfully obvious; both boys had caught on and were tremendously confused. Neil winced at Todd’s choice of words.

      “Okay, you don’t have to get so defensive. Just relax, okay? Sorry,” Charlie took a drag on his cigarette, “But from how dramatic you’re reacting to this…” Neil’s face broke into a harsh grimace as he smacked Charlie’s shoulder with the back of his hand.

      “Charlie–” but before he could finish his sentence, Todd had pushed Charlie onto the floor, “Todd, stop!” Neil caught Todd’s fist before he could bring it down to hit Charlie, so instead, Todd wriggled his arm out of Neil’s grasp and punched him square in between the eyes, “AH!” Neil cried, clutching his face and stumbling backwards, falling into his desk chair.

      “I SAID I’M NOT GAY” the twang in Todd’s vocal cords was vehement and the ache and sting in his knuckles rivaled that in Neil’s face. Todd was breathing heavily, already beginning to come down from his anger high.

      The door flung open, revealing Cameron, Charlie’s roommate, “What the hell are you guys doing in–” he stopped when he saw Charlie on the floor and Neil clutching his face. Todd stepped away from them, staring in horror at his hand, still balled into a fist. His breathing began to quicken, as he looked between all three boys around him. What just happened? What the hell did I just do? he thought, tears welling in his eyes. Neil’s nose was dripping blood; Cameron grabbed a random shirt and handed it to him. Neil took it, but his gaze was fixed on Todd. There was something written in his eyes, but Todd couldn’t tell what it was. Anger? Sadness? Both? He genuinely didn’t know. But the pain began to radiate even harder through his hand and his breathing grew more shallow as the seconds agonizingly passed by.

      “Todd, what did you do?” Cameron asked, his voice on eggshells. Before he knew it, Todd had bumped Cameron on his way out the door and ran into the hallway, down the stairs, onto the grounds, and off campus. Todd was sorry, he knew that he was, but he didn’t know what to say. So he left, finding himself sitting on a tree stump in the woods near school with his thoughts and an aching hand clutched to his chest.

      Neil had placed the shirt on his nose while Cameron helped Charlie up off of the ground.

      “You guys okay?” Cameron asked, holding Charlie’s shoulders to stabilize him as he got up. Neil began to cry.

      “Yeah, I’m alright,” Charlie started, “Neil, what is it?” Cameron and Charlie knelt in front of their friend, concerned for his face and his tears.

      Slightly muffled from the shirt, Neil spoke, “Charlie, I told you he was, why did you egg him on like that? He’s clearly not… out,”

      “Neil, seriously I didn’t know he’d get all violent. I’m sorry…”

      “I-I told you he… I knew he was, I just… there’s a reason he… gets so uncomfortable when we bring it up. I told you,” Neil sobbed, moving the shirt away from his face. The blood had stopped, but the excess had begun to dry and cake on his lips and around his mouth.

      “I know, alright? I should’ve listened to you. I’m sorry,” Charlie sighed, “Come on, you have to go to Hager for an ice pack,” he offered.

      “What should I say happened?” Neil shook, trying to regain his composure.

      “You should… Tell him that Todd hit you?” Cameron said, confused. If there was one thing to be said about Charlie’s roommate, it was that he was a stickler for rules and the truth, no matter what form it took or the consequences it would elicit.

      “Yeah, right, and get him expelled?” Neil scoffed, glaring at Cameron.

      “Neil, look, I know you have feelings for him and whatever, but is it worth this? I mean… He hit you for crying out loud!” Cameron argued, unconvinced. Neil had mentioned to his friends the feelings he had begun to have for Todd, knowing they’d be just about the only people who’d understand and support him.

      “Cameron, it’s not that simple. Really,” he looked knowingly at the ginger, “This stuff… happens. It’s not Todd’s fault that he reacted the way he did. Seriously,” Neil sniffled, tasting metallicy blood in his throat. Charlie nodded a little bit.

      “Well… Alright, but still, you have to go get an ice pack from Hager,” Cameron said.

      “Tell him we were horsing around and I pushed you too hard and you hit your head on the desk,” Charlie offered.

      “You’ll get demerits for that, Dalton,” Cameron stated.

      “I don’t care. Neil?”

      “I… Alright. Thanks, Charlie,” he nodded, standing up and making his way to Dr. Hager’s room. Charlie stayed with Neil after getting the ice pack since Cameron had to study.

      “Neil, really, I didn’t know he would do that. I’m really sorry,” he confessed.

      “It’s alright, Charlie,” Neil’s voice was quiet, like a small stream in the middle of a huge forest.

      “I can go talk to him? I mean, I don’t know where he went but–”

      “He called me a queer,” tears came back to Neil’s eyes.

      “I… I know, Neil, but you… you even said that he probably didn’t mean it. It’s not his fault?”

      “I-I know, but… It still hurts all the same, Charlie,” Neil sobbed into the ice pack quietly. Frowning, Charlie sat next to his friend, all out of words to console him.

      Todd sat out in the woods until it was dark out, and even then he felt no impulse to return to campus. Grappling with his thoughts and flashbacks throughout the evening, he had scratched his arm so hard that it bled. Everything that had happened to him in the past few months had crescendoed into a great, big mess– him hitting the boy he liked in the face and hurting someone he considered a friend (or at least an acquaintance). And he couldn’t believe it. How would he ever recover from this? Once his tears and the blood on his arm had dried, he got up from the stump, his joints aching from sitting so long. With swollen, salty eyes and lips, and bruised knuckles, Todd made his way back to Welton in the dark. Casting his eyes upon the stone architecture of the school he had gotten to know pretty well in the past couple months, he felt a sense of familiarity he didn’t know he needed. Glancing at his watch, he realized everyone would likely be at dinner, which made him feel better about returning to the room.

      When he got there, though, he found Neil still there, laying in bed with his back to the door. Todd didn’t say anything, just stood in the middle of the room for a second before closing the door. Neil’s head perked up slightly at this, and he turned over.

      “Oh,” he started, sitting up, “hey,” he sniffled, wiping his nose tenderly. He had been crying. And a bruise had spread mostly under his left eye and cheek. Seeing Neil sitting there with his pleading, puffy eyes and bruises, Todd felt a pit open in his stomach and the pang in his chest came back; it was an all too familiar scene– one he had seen in what felt like a jolting nightmare, years ago. Only this time, it was Todd’s doing. He didn’t really know what to say; his voice felt like gum under a desk. He opened his mouth to speak, but Neil, ever-caring, beat him to it, “Are you okay?” which took Todd by total and complete surprise.

      “I-I… What?” he looked up at Neil.

      “I asked if you’re okay,” Neil repeated, sitting forward.

      “I… A-Are you?” Todd stumbled over his words, barely able to look Neil in the eyes.

      “Believe it or not, this is the first time this has happened to me… There really is a first for everything,” he said with an airy laugh. Todd had physically assaulted Neil, and he was still somehow finding a way to make light of it.

      “Neil, I…” Todd paused.

      “What?”

      “You should be mad at me,” weirdly enough, Todd’s accent was gone. Neil was looking at his lap, searching for words when his head shot up and he looked up at Todd.

      “What happened to your accent from earlier?” Todd’s eyes went wide, “And don’t lie, either… Clearly, you’re not from Arizona,” Neil raised his eyebrows.

      “Why aren’t you mad at me,” Todd demanded, standing his ground and still, desperately trying to avoid what seemed moments away from spilling out.

      “I am, but I’m not. I know why you did it, but it’s not something you have to admit to me. It’s something you have to admit to yourself,” Neil shrugged. Todd’s insides flared, his jaw clenching, “What, are you going to hit me again for what I just said?” Neil was looking straight at Todd. Todd studied Neil’s face, somehow still the most perfect work of art Todd had ever seen. Sighing and at an utter loss for words, Todd laid in bed, his back to Neil. Neil returned the sigh, and Todd heard him lay back down, “I think you’ll feel better in the morning,” Neil said. And that’s the last thing Todd remembered.

tagging some people again (if y’all are still around): @queertoddanderson @babytoddanderson @cupiiid@justarandompjofan@charliedaltonofficial @pretentious-strikes @caffeineconstellations @wellredacademic @aedan-mills​ @noelliza​ @babybxrahae

#dead poets society #anderperry #neil perry and todd anderson #todd anderson #neil perry #angelina writes

[your-daily-biaswrecking]

Needy

pairing: Kim Namjoon x female reader (guest star Yoongi)

genre: smut, established relationship au

word count: 4.3k | reading time: 20 min

summary: Dating Kim Namjoon comes with its advantages and disadvantages. The later mainly being working so much all you get to see of him is in his studio. But you're a needy bitch. And if you have to get what you want while he works, you will do just that.

warnings: hard dom namjoon, bratty sub reader, cockwarming, daddy kink, dirty talk, degradation, praise, choking, spanking, unprotected sex, oral m.receiving, orgasm denial, studio sex, slight exhibitionism, aka the one where namjoon discovers he likes public sex and exhibitionism.

A/N: Amy=Army=reader because I prefer using a name instead of y/n

Masterlist | Read on AO3

Time slipping closer to the comeback dates meant missing-your-boyfriend hours grew more frequent. You never complained, just like he didn't either, but you were clingy by nature and finding any way to be even in the same room as Namjoon had become your top priority. At first, sleeping in his arms at night was enough. In about a week it became apparent that waking hours were paramount, so you started joining him for lunch. No matter how short and rushed it had to be. But the more he worked on the group's comeback, the less attention he could pay, always distracted and keeping your interactions to small talk. Eating with him wasn't sating your hunger anymore.

"I'm sorry, baby," he would say when he would realize you had been talking this whole time.

You honestly didn't mind. Simply wanted to be by his side. "It's okay, sweetie. Everything alright?"

He sighed and caressed your hand laying on the table. "I just miss you. I have to stay to work extra hours again and I won't see you again and I miss you. That's all."

You replicated his small, soft smile. "I can stay with you. I'll bring my laptop and we can both work together. That way we won't be alone."

Namjoon smirked. "You know I can't concentrate with you in the room," he declared with a low tone in his voice and slightly squeezed your hand.

Suddenly, you were fighting a smile on your lips while your eyes raced to the floor as if you were too shy to face your own boyfriend. Then you pouted. "No, we'll just work. I will be working too, I'll be so quiet, you won't even know I'm there."

And so you did. You took the small couch while he had his back to you, working on his computer. The sound of both of your keyboards was filling the room, along with the slight whispers of the music playing through Namjoon's headphones. It was after-hours and they went by mostly uninterrupted, except for the occasional visit by a manager or a member –usually the rappers– to deliver some type of message. The boys would smile softly at the sight of you, and you replied with a raise of your shoulders to state the obvious.

"Can I sit on your lap?" You asked Namjoon once after you had given up on your work and were battling falling asleep on that comfortable couch while you waited for him to call it a day, or more accurately, a night.

He pulled his headphones to the side and turned to look at you. "My lap?"

You nodded. "I'll just sit there and you can work."

"Don't you want to work?"

"No, I want to be in your arms."

He bit his bottom lip. He eyed you up and down and then looked at his monitor. He knew it wasn't a good idea, but he figured he would just sound like a straight douche if he declined cuddle offers from his girlfriend, after she had been patiently putting up with him distancing for the past few weeks. So he turned back to you and patted his lap.

"Okay, hop on, kitty. But if you don't sit quietly, you'll be in trouble."

You had to bite back that shy smile again. Namjoon was asking you to sit quietly yet just by the way he asked, he made you crave that trouble he promised. But no, you were a good girl. You didn't want to disturb his work, it would only stress him out more. You straddled his lap and huddled on his chest, trying to make yourself as small as possible so as not to restrict his movements in the least. You felt his big hand stroking your hair as you planted your head on his left shoulder, your nose close to his neck, tickling him with your warm breath. Before you knew it, you were asleep.

So now you almost didn't even bother pretending to work on that laptop of yours. Since Namjoon had been convinced that you could sit on his lap without causing trouble, and you had discovered how easy it was to relax when you were wrapped around him like that, you basically jumped in his lap right after you two settled in his studio. Namjoon played with your hair or gently squeezed the softer parts of your body every time he paused to think. He found it helped him work even better. His own little stress relief toy.

"Oh- uh… Sorry- um…" Yoongi squealed when he walked into the studio and saw the two of you tangled like so.

Namjoon turned to face the older member and simply shook his head. "Oh, she's just sleeping," he whispered.

Yoongi now opened the door more widely and stood up straighter to take a better look at you. "Oh…" he exhaled with a smile. "Like that?"

"Yeah… she can't stay away from me."

"Cute…"

At that, you decided to lift your head and look at Yoongi's general direction. "I'm awake!" you stated loudly then immediately dropped your head back down.

The other man chuckled slightly before he informed Namjoon on something about their manager, this and that, and left. Anyone walking into the studio was met with what appeared like an adorable scene that they quickly became accustomed to, and even your boyfriend seemed to think completely innocently of it now. Which meant you were the only one quietly suffering because of his cologne and the warmth of his crotch under yours.

You tried to sit there quietly. You tried to fall asleep. But it had been days since you and Namjoon had done anything other than work, and that promised trouble was becoming more and more appealing. You circled your fingertips at the base of his neck, contemplating whether you should grid yourself on him to get him to fuck you on that desk as a punishment, or be a good girl so that you don't lose your lap privileges.

But you wanted more than your lap privileges. You truly were so clingy, it wasn't enough that you were sitting on him like that; you wanted to feel more of him. You bit your lip and controlled yourself, catching your breath on purpose so that he wouldn't notice it had gotten heavier and warmer on his neck. You could practically hear his deep voice vibrating something like "you little minx" in case you exposed yourself, which in turn made your struggles even harder.

You squirming on his lap was probably registered as you squirming in your sleep by your boyfriend. Indeed, you kept your eyes tightly closed to play the role, too. You swallowed, again and again, excess saliva flooding your mouth from all the dirty thoughts passing your mind, like a dog dreaming of a delicious meal. But you stayed put. You sat quietly, just like he had asked. Because you were a good girl and you knew you would be awarded for that eventually.

"Baby…" you whispered with a pout in your lips. Today you had worn a skirt and as you sat on Namjoon's lap, the only thing covering your heat was your lace panties. Today you would get that award you craved the whole week. "Namjoon, baby…" you whined again to get your boyfriend's attention.

He looked at you with wide eyes, pausing whatever he was doing and sliding his headphones off. "What's that, kitten?"

Your eyes dropped down as your fingers played with the hem of his shirt. "I–" you gulped, "I want you inside me."

You heard nothing, no reaction. So you looked up again and Namjoon was just staring at you. "You know we can't do that here, kitten…"

You bounced slightly on his lap in protest. Luckily for you, you found out your boyfriend had already started to get hard under you. So you continued. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed yourself on him, making him suck in a breath.

"Ohh... I'm not asking for anything too much. I just want you inside me."

"Inside you?"

You nodded. "Yes, yes. I just want to feel you. Can you just… just put it inside me?"

Namjoon laughed. "Baby, if I put it inside you there is no way it won't lead to something more…"

But you shook your head frantically. For good measure, you ground yourself on him, too. "No, no, I promise! I won't even move. I'll just go right to sleep like I do every day. You know, you've seen how quietly I can sit like that. You can trust me, right?"

Namjoon bit his bottom lip aggressively as he watched you act all innocent and cute while talking about putting his dick in you. He took one too many seconds to answer, so you took the initiative to move your hands to his pants and unbutton them. His hands grabbed your hips. Not to stop you. Just to hold you forcefully as he processed what was happening.

"So you– you want to do… cockwarming?"

In response, you took one of his hands and guided it under your skirt, to your already wet core. His fingers felt your arousal through the lace. Suddenly, all signs of demur disappeared from his face.

"Hm, does your little hole feel empty without me, kitten? You want me to fill you up?"

You bit your lip as you nodded, your hands moving again to completely undo his pants and pull them down just a bit. You palmed him through his boxers and his fingers massaged your clit over your panties. You pulled his dick out and saw how it sprang up, almost to full hardness already. Quickly, you spat on your hand a generous amount and used that to pump him up and down a few times. Namjoon groaned and pushed your panties away, two fingers teasing at your entrance.

"Do you need prepping? Or can you take my cock as it is?" he asked you as he slipped his two fingers easily in.

"Namjoon," you moaned his name quietly. "Don't get me too horny, just put your dick inside me." He raised his eyebrows at your commanding attitude. "Unless you don't want me to be good," you added with a raised eyebrow of your own.

Chuckling, he pulled his fingers out and grabbed your hips again. He guided you over his dick. "Alright, kitten. Sit on that cock and don't. Move."

You sank, taking him in inch by inch, the thickness stretching you out so much it burned. You allowed yourself to moan out as quietly as you could, still struggling to fit all of him inside you. Namjoon kept a hand on your hips to guide you down, while the other caressed the side of your head.

"That's right," he praised you. "Take all of me, baby. I know you can."

With his encouraging words, you took a deep breath and moved down until your pussy had swallowed him whole, his head now nudging at your cervix.

"There, there… that's great," Namjoon cooed. He brushed his palm over your cheek and made you look at him. "How does this feel?"

"Oh, it feels good…" you said, dragging out the last word while letting your eyes roll to the back of your head. Your boyfriend gave you a sweet kiss on your forehead.

"So, did you get what you wanted, kitten?"

"Mm, yes, daddy, thank you," you moaned.

His thumb ran over your lips and he pinched your chin. You opened your eyes to look at him. "Now… will you sit there quietly and let me do my job?"

You nodded lazily. "Yes. Yes, daddy, I will."

Namjoon smiled and gave you a quick peck. He looked down, pushing your skirt out and adjusting it so that it covered both of you up. He put his headphones back on and you, just like you promised, laid your head on his shoulder again and sat there quietly. Your position ultimately not changing at all and it still seemed very sinless, with the only exception that you were now so deliciously full and finally sated.

You tried to calm your breathing down. You clenched and unclenched around him involuntarily and he released a warning groan in response. It was hard to stay still at first, but once you got used to his length stretching your walls, it was surprisingly relaxing. He was big and warm and the most comfortable thing you had experienced in your life. You had never felt closer to your boyfriend than at that moment. You loved it in a very possessive way.

From now on this would be the only seat you'd ever take.

Namjoon loved it too. He didn't expect you to actually sit still, secretly wanted you to act out so that he could teach you a lesson afterwards. But now you looked as peaceful as a baby breastfeeding. It was funny how something so dirty made you look so chaste, and how that in return made you look, well... hot. He sighed. He really didn't think he would be the one having trouble controlling himself. Your pussy was moving slightly around him every time you squirmed, and he felt every single thing. Yet you had managed to drift into a light sleep, your cheek pressed on his collarbone, your lips apart, your breaths long and warm on his neck.

So pretty… So cute. Namjoon would make sure to fuck you so well when you two got home.

"Hey, Namjoon!"

Namjoon jumped right as the studio door opened wide. He hands quickly grabbed your hips, ready to push you away and pretend nothing was happening.

"Oh, is she sleeping?" Yoongi whispered and walked closer to them.

Namjoon froze. He looked down, your skirt was still covering you up. Then he looked at the other man. He seemed blissfully unaware of what was going on in there.

And that, for some reason, made Namjoon's dick throb.

"Um, ye-yeah."

"Heh, she's so cute when she sleeps on you like that."

Namjoon bit the inside of his cheek hard. His hips moved forward on their own accord, pushing further inside you so slightly that the moment went by unnoticed. But not by you. A tiny whine echoed from your throat.

"Hm, yes. What's up?" he answered, his voice husky.

Yoongi started talking, but if Namjoon were to be honest with himself, he didn't hear a thing he said. All he could register was his dick getting even harder while your pussy got tighter around him. He tried to stay still as he stared forcefully into his friend's eyes. What if he realised?

God, the thought alone made him suck in a deep breath.

"Okay?" Yoongi's voice was barely made out inside the younger's foggy head. But he managed to nod. "Can you do that for me?"

"Hyung..." Namjoon sighed. Just as Yoongi frowned at his friend's odd voice, you moved around, clinging closer to Namjoon, cutting off his oxygen supply completely. "Yes! Yes, I will!" he literally choked out.

The other rapper gave him an up and down and Namjoon would never dare admit how his eyes on the two of you made his stomach shrink. But he would admit to how he felt ready to combust and if you weren't left alone within the next thirty seconds, he would no longer care about details such as privacy.

"Cool," Yoongi mumbled, moving back towards the door yet still facing you. "Thanks, man. I owe you one."

The moment the door clicked closed, Namjoon gasped hard, taking in all the air he was missing. His hands -still on your hips- held you tighter, tight enough to leave bruises, as he panted and moved his hips slowly into you.

"Stop pretending you're sleeping," he demanded. A couple of seconds of silence passed, and then he felt your lips gently land on his neck in a small kiss, trying to play innocent. He snorted. "You–"

"Everything okay, daddy?" you asked in the purest voice you could master.

"No!" he exclaimed, dropping his head back on his chair. He thrust up as much as he could, but since he was already buried to the brim, there wasn't much space to move. "No, I'm not okay!" he growled. You immediately bit your lip, pulling your head away so that you could finally face him. He leaned slightly forward but the moment his eyes fell on you, his head hit his chair again. "Move!"

"But, daddy, you–"

"Fuck, Amy, if you don't– move!"

His hands pushed you slightly off him, and he immediately thrust into you. Hard. You had no choice but to cry out. Another thrust and you felt like you couldn't hold yourself up anymore, falling on his chest and clinging to him desperately.

"Nam-" you tried to talk, but the man had found his position and was drilling into you at a never before seen speed. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and all you could do was have your jaw hung open and a moan escape freely with every hit on your spot. He was animalistic, growling and groaning loudly with no regards to the public building you were in, and most importantly, without even noticing your attempts to slow him down. You pushed your palms on his shoulders, trying to lift yourself, but in response, he just bit down on your neck and made you moan harder.

This... This is exactly what you wanted. Wasn't it?

"Namjoon, the door is unlocked," you managed to whisper while he was licking your neck up and down aggressively. He just hummed in response. At least he heard your voice. "What if somebody comes in?"

Your boyfriend moaned. He slowed down, his right hand leaving your hip to move higher up, ruffling your shirt, squeezing your breast and wrapping around your throat. You gasped right as he tightened his grip.

"Let them see," Namjoon mumbled. His grip around your throat tightened even more and his hips picked up the pace again. But now, you had no way of making any sound other than choking. Namjoon moaned louder. "Oh, let them watch."

He finally let you breathe and right away he crushed his lips to yours, pulling you deep down on his dick and grinding inside you. You had never seen this side of him before and you couldn't help but drip arousal around his base. Just seeing how into it he seemed to be made you get closer to your climax.

"Bounce on my cock, you slut. Isn't this what you wanted from the beginning?" your boyfriend growled in your ear and you whined, immediately obeying. Jumping up and down.

"Daddy..." you moaned for his attention, getting closer and closer.

A hard slap on your right butt cheek. "Faster. Do it how you know you wanted it." Another slap.

Leaning forward you found a new momentum to slide up and down his dick faster, and his breathing instantly changed. You looked up through your lashes at him, gawking at his expression, face hot with coy and pride.

"Like that, daddy?"

He groaned, staring right into your eyes. "So needy," he mumbled. "Such a desperate slut, constantly wanting praise. Is that what you want, baby? For me to praise you?"

You almost missed your rhythm due to the effect his words had on you. "Da... Daddy..." was all you could say.

He held you from the ass, helping you move since you were so close to cumming it was getting hard. "Hm? You want me to praise that warm, wet pussy of yours that takes my dick so well?" You had to moan. "So well-" he repeated, "-that I can't resist it?"

"Daddy, I'm gonna-"

"You fuck me so well, baby. Hm, is that what you want me to say?" Namjoon continued teasing. "You're so good..."

"I'm gonna cum!"

Suddenly, you were empty. Namjoon had pulled out of you and pushed you away.

"Oh no, baby. You don't get to cum."

Your mouth dropped open, the sweat that glistened all over your face probably evaporating at how hot it suddenly got. "Wh- what?"

The man in front of you gave you the most shit-eating grin you had seen in a while. He got up from the chair and stood in front of you. "What? You really thought you would be rewarded with an orgasm after everything you pulled?"

You pouted. "But..."

Namjoon held your chin gently and smiled down at you smugly. "You've been too naughty, sweetness. Now, if you get on your knees for me, I might make you cum when we get home."

You bit your lips so hard it hurt. "Daddy..." you whined in the most seductive voice you had in you, giving him your big, puppy eyes. But he just released your chin and raised his eyebrows.

"On. Your. Knees."

Gulping, you lowered yourself down. If Namjoon said knees then knees it would be. You looked up at him and he sighed heavily at the attractive sight.

"Now, open up for me, baby."

You opened your mouth and drew your tongue out as far as you could, which seemed to please him a lot. Grabbing his dick at the base, he ran his head over your tongue. Getting desperate again, you closed your lips around him and sucked the head. That earned you a hiss. His fingers were suddenly all in your hair, his head fallen back, as he picked up right where he had left. He pushed the first couple of inches of his dick in and out of you fast until you were used to it and you swallowed more of him in. You couldn't take all of him, but you didn't need to: the tightness of the back of your mouth was all Namjoon needed to feel from you.

"Oh, God…" Namjoon moaned and you knew the moment the atheist started to call out to God, was the moment he was getting close. You grabbed his hips to halt his thrusts and instead just suck. Suck him hard enough to slurp his own soul if he had one. Hard enough to swallow his warm cum right as it was released down your throat.

You opened up your mouth with a satisfied "ah" to show him it was empty. Namjoon smiled and fell back on his chair, exhausted. Knowing you needed to be as good as you could in order to be rewarded afterwards, you gently tucked him back in his trousers while still on your knees, looking at him proudly.

"Did I make you feel good?"

Namjoon chuckled, ruffling his hair. "I swear all you ever–"

A knock on the door followed but a member right away. "Hey, Namjoon-ah, when-"

You both turned with dread to look at the door, finding a mortified Yoongi standing to it. His wide eyes moved from the fucked out looking man on the chair, to the girl on her knees in front of him, and he very wisely decided to disappear behind the closed door again without a word.

"Ah, shit…" Namjoon mumbled, but you just laughed.

"You know, he's probably still waiting for that translation," you said, which made your boyfriend look at you puzzlingly.

"What translation?"

You bit your bottom lip to prevent you from laughing again. "Babe! Earlier… he said he e-mailed you some lyrics he wanted you to translate to English. You said you'd do it."

His face scrunched up to the saddest 'oh' you had seen. "I h– I didn't– I..."

You showed your teeth in an 'oopsie' way. "Oh, well... At least now he knows what took so long."

Namjoon moved off the chair and pulled you up with him. "I need to– I mean, I should probably talk to him. I don't know, say it wasn't what it looked like? Would that sound believable?"

You chuckled again, getting on your tippy-toes to try and fix his hair. "Looking like that? Not so much."

Namjoon looked at his reflection on the black screen of his computer to fix what he could. "You should go home, baby. I'll stay here to make this right."

"What? No, but you promised to make me cum when we get home," you whined like the spoiled brat you were.

But your boyfriend grabbed your jacket, waiting for you to wear it. "Yeah, but that was before you got me in trouble, you brat."

You pouted. "No, I'm not going."

He rolled his eyes and grabbed your arms to push them through your jacket sleeves. "Get home now, Amy, before I change my mind and not let you cum at all."

You were ready to throw a tantrum, but as you were guided toward the door, you just turned and looked at him very seriously. "Namjoon, I swear to you, if you let me go now I'll find a better way of getting myself off tonight," you threatened.

But he laughed. "Oh, okay. Tell me, do you wanna go apologize to Yoongi perhaps?"

You shrugged nonchalantly. "Perhaps. At least he'd let me cum, wouldn't he?" you commented as you opened the door and were ready to leave. But Namjoon slammed it closed again. His arms caged you against it as he loomed over you.

"I have a better idea. You go home right now, undress, get in bed and wait for me without touching yourself at all, like a good girl, and I'll make you cum until you beg me to stop," Namjoon whispered darkly. You seemed to consider it. "There is no alternative, sweetness. You'll do as I tell you."

So you smiled. You gave him a little kiss on the cheek and agreed. Well, at least he thought you did. Because you were definitely going to disobey him by touching yourself back home until you had wet your bed waiting for him. Waiting for the punishment he'd come up with then...

#kim namjoon #namjoon #fanfic #bts fanfic #rm #rm fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts oneshot #namjoon oneshot #rm oneshot #namjoon smut #rm smut #bts smut #bangtan #bangtan fanfic #namjoon x reader #established relationship #bts x reader #namjoon imagine #needy

[littlemessyjessi]

“A Deal With Cupid”: James Fleamont Potter: PS Reader: Chapter 11

(A/N: Reader has a very cute/kawaii aesthetic to her and is all about the pampering.  I was originally gonna make her an oc but I know a lot of you have been missing reader content so I figured this would be a good compromise.  A reader insert with all that that entails but with a little bit of a theme, lol)

Also, big thank you to Delilah for comish-ing this chappie! I hope you enjoy it love! 

———

James was positively buzzing with excitement.

Y/N has finally overcome her sickness...and period...with the help of the four of them mother henning over her.

And, of course, with the help of Madame Pompfrey's potions.

And just some good old fashioned rest and relaxation.

James discovered something about himself during the whole process.

And that something was that when Y/N got sick... he turned into the biggest sap in the world.

He hated it that she was sick.

Absolutely hated it.

But also...he kind of loved how needy she was and how she wanted him to hold her constantly.

Which he was more than happy to do, honestly.

The only time it was particularly gut wrenching was when he had to leave for classes or quidditch.

And of course, the absolute misery that was when McGonagall came to investigate about the sick girl and found them curled up in his bed.

To say that James panicked would've been the understatement of the century.

But the professor simply gave him a stern look and reminded him of the rules that she was sure he'd no doubt break before telling him to inform her that she is to return to her dorm when she wakes up.

James had whined incessantly but relayed the information none the less.

He walked her as far as he could before she simply pecked his cheek and went to bed.

He didn't even see her for two days but it would seem that bit of of uninterrupted rest was exactly what she needed.

That morning, he was up with the first rays of sunshine and on the Quidditch pitch for practice.

They'd spent the early hours running drills and preparing to absolutely slaughter Ravenclaw next weekend.

So he fully intended on having a shower and collapsing in his bed for a quick nap before tracking down his girlfriend to check on her.

When low and behold, he opened his dorm room and the scent of orange and cream filled his senses.

Music was coming from the door to his lav and he could smell the familiar scent of that vanilla candle.

Y/N was here and taking her bubble bath it would seem.

"Love?" James called out to her gently, as not to startle her.

"In here, James!" she called back. "I'm in the tub!"

"Oh alright, love.  I'll be out here when you get out!" he called back.

He was fighting with himself because he missed her and wanted to snatch her into his arms but he also wanted to give her her space and be respectful.

"Ok, but I mean, you can come in her, babe.  It's fine.  I'm covered by the bubbles anyway." she said and James went rigid.

"Bubbles pop, love." he chuckled nervously.

"Not these." she giggled.  "They're my own invention.  I'm a frickin genius."

"And so modest." he teased poking his head in the door to see her sitting there in a tub almost overflowing with bubbles.

She shrugged and grinned mischeviously, "Even if they do pop I think we're past that stage.  You held my hair while I puked for the past week and literally cleaned snot out of my nose."

"Yeah, that was gross." he said finally stepping into the lav and taking a seat on the edge of the tub.

Her head was wrapped up in a pink scarf, protection her hair from getting wet and there was a purple face mask covering her skin.

James couldn't help it as a soft smile crawled onto his face.

"What?" she asked furrowing her brows at him, making the mask crack a bit in places.

"Nothing." he said with a chuckle.

She splashed some water at him, "Tell me."

"Nothing." he said reaching in and splashing him back.  "It's just, I love how comfortable we are with each other.   We haven't even had our first kiss yet and here we are.  I'm covered in mud and I stink from Quidditch and you're literally sitting in a bubble bath.  You don't seem concerned with that at all."

She shrugged, "It's cause I know you won't hurt me and I know I can be myself with you."

"Me too." he smiled. "Mud and all."

"Eh." she shrugged again and pointed at her face.  "You have your mud and I have mine."

"I guess that's true." he said.

"Do you want to get in?" she asked and James nearly fell in the floor.

She giggled wildly, "I just meant because you need a bath, James.  You've been to practice.  It doesn't have to be weird if we don't make it weird. It's just a bath."

"Yeah, but we'll be.."

"Naked.  Yes." she said.  "But again, it's a bath.  If you're not comfortable that's ok.  It was just an offer anyway."

"No, no, I'm ok with that.  I just don't wanna- what I mean is- I don't want to ever make you feel like- ugh, fuck- I can't - I just don't want to-" he stammered.

"James, I'm the one that brought it up." she said pointedly.  "If I had a problem with it, then I wouldn't have said anything."

He nodded with a gulp.

"Er, uh, ok?" he said.

She tilted her head, "James, if you're not comfortable it's ok.  There's not pressure. I'm cool either way."

"No, no." he said. "I'll have a bath with you.  I just have to."

"Oh right." she said closing her eyes and creating a shield with her hands.  "Ok, go ahead.  I can't see anything."

James chuckled as he undressed, "I wasn't really worried about that but thanks for the thought."

"What do you take me for?" she teased.  "Someone who would take advantage of you in your vulnerable state?"

"And what state is that?" he asked dipping into the hot water of the tub opposite of her.

"Exhausted from Quidditch, of course." she giggled.

James snorted as he moved some of the bubbles around to cover him.

"Alright, I'm covered." he said and she moved her hands to reveal her grin.

"Helloooo." she said impishly.

"Hello." he said.

"Want some face mask?" she asked holding out the purple tube to him.

"Maybe later." he said leaning his head back on the edge of the tub.  "You know, I'd planned on a shower but I think this is much better."

"Well a soak is usually great for aching muscles.   A massage is too.  Come here and I'll rub your shoulders." she said.

James' eyes snapped open and he went rigid again.

"Uh, what?" he squeaked.

"Oh, James relax." she laughed.  "I was just gonna rub your shoulders. I know you hold a lot of tension there."

"Are you sure?" he asked, searching her eyes for any speck of hesitation.

"I won't bite." she grinned. "Unless you ask me too that is."

James narrowed his eyes at her.

"Don't you start." he said before slowly making his way over to her.

He checked her face once more for any sign of discomfort but she only smiled at him.

He turned around and she slowly pulled him back into her.

He had to work to ignore the way his skin felt against hers.

"See there." she said, placing a kiss to his jawline. "And you were scared for nothing."

"I wasn't scared, love." he admitted, relaxing as he felt her fingers gently massage his shoulders.  "I just don't want to ever do anything that hurts you or makes you uncomfortable.  You mean way too much to me.  I'd never do anything to-"

"I know, James." she said, kissing his cheek and running her fingers through his hair.

He sighed and continued to relax until he was leaning against her heavily.

She soaped up the wash rag and gently washed his chest, letting the bits of dirt slide down into the bubbles concealing them.

James continued to let her wash his hair and rub his shoulders for a bit before he leaned back to look at her.

"Thanks, babygirl." he said. "I didn't realize I needed that but I did."

"I got you." she said.  "Just like you've always got me."

He nodded, "Couldn't get rid of me if you tried."

"A week ago I might not have believed you if you said that to me but you did put up with me while I was sick AND on my period. I'm a terror when I'm like that." she admitted, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and placing her cheek into his wet hair.

"You just felt bad, love." he said, kissing the back of her hand.  "You couldn't help it."

"Still." she shrugged.

"You weren't that bad, honestly." he said. "You just wanted a lot of cuddles. But I'm always more than happy to provide that service."

She giggled behind him and he couldn't help but grin softly.

"Hey James?" she said and he leaned his head back to look at her again.

She was looking at him differently and he was mesmerized by the twinkle in her eyes.

"Yeah, love?" he asked.

She didn't say anything as she leaned in to connect their lips.

James' stomach turned and flipped as they melded together.

He never would've imagined it to happen this way but it couldn't have been more perfect.

They finally seperated and James opened his eyes to see her looking at him oddly.

It was only when she started giggling when he noticed the mask on her face was smeared everywhere.

"There's purple all over my mouth isn't there?" he asked but her giggle told him everything he needed to know.

He splashed his own face with water to wash it off before a mischevious glint took over his features.

"James Fleamont Potter, don't you dare!"

"Too late." he said and send a tidal wave of water crashing into her.

The purple mask leaked off her face and her hair wrap was soaked to her head ... but she was smiling.

She pounced on him, trying to drown him in the bath water.

It was in that moment, when she was laughing wildly and simulataneously trying to murder him that James wondered how he'd ever gotten by so long without her.

She was the love of his life and he never wanted to spend another moment without her.

------- Chapter 10 Chapter 12 coming soon ---------

Hey loves! Thanks for stopping by to read!  I hope you enjoyed this and I would love to know your thoughts! Thank you again to the lovely lass who commish this chapter! If you’d like to commission a story or future chapter of stories, please reach out and I would be happy to answer any questions you have!   Love, Kenny

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——- Also, just a reminder that I am open for commissions! Additionally, the only tag list I have is my permanent tag list but if you ever want to be added all you have to do is just go to the ask box and request to be added! It’s that simple and you’re in!I love you all! 

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[bookishofalder]

Night Changes [Epilogue]

Summary: The end.

Warnings: Language, smut, excessive fluff.

Poe always woke to the sound of ocean waves. Many times mixed with the noises Charlie made waking up, her soft cries pulling him from his sleep, or otherwise the sound of you soothing her. He tried to wake before you so that you could sleep in—he still felt he owed you so much time and rest for having to raise her on your own for so long.

Most days, he did naturally awaken before both of his girls. He would spend a few moments admiring you in the golden light of dawn that filtered through the soft linen curtains, enjoying the feel of your body warm against his, before slowly raising to creep from the room and go to Charlie in her nursery.

Today, however, he didn’t need to leave. Charlie was currently asleep in the guest room of their bungalow, a happy home on Yavin-4 that sat right along a sleepy beach. She was spending quality time with her visiting Aunt and Uncle—Rey and Finn. They’d insisted on the sleepover, claiming they wanted practice caring for a baby for when they were ready to have their own. You had hurriedly handed Charlie over, laughing, and wished them luck.

The house had been designed long to ensure most rooms could take advantage of the view of the water; Poe and you were on the opposite side from the guest room. Far enough that they couldn’t hear any crying if Charlie was awake. But Poe trusted his hapless friends, he wasn’t worried in the slightest.

And it meant he got extra alone time with you, uninterrupted.

Settling on Yavin-4 had been a desire you and Poe shared, the decision coming quickly when he first found you on Sorgan and the discussion of next steps came up. Dad was glad to move back, though he did sell his place and had a room next to the guest room, preferring to stay close to Charlie. Combined, the money you inherited from your parents, your brother, the family house you’d sold, and Poe’s money, the Dameron family was more than comfortable to retire and live peacefully on their home planet.

Poe built you a beach house, in a quiet corner of the jungle that was close enough by speeder to a mid-sized town, with a school for Charlie and markets, shops, a cantina. Aside from the occasional distant air traffic, his home was filled only with the sounds of the ocean, the giggles of his little girl and you, his dads' booming laugh. Charlie was nearly three now, and she was the happiest kid, full of attitude and drama but somehow it was so easy to make her smile, and Poe was the best at it. She was a daddy’s girl, you had said, not realizing how much that meant to him to hear.

As he stretched, you gave a soft snore next to Poe and an idea struck him. It had been a while since he’d last eaten you out while you slept, and his cock began to harden at the thought. With careful movements, he shimmied down the bed and ducked his head under the bedsheet, moving between your legs gently. Neither of you ever wore clothing to bed, so it made it easy for Poe to begin kissing your inner thigh as his hands spread your thighs.

When he had you bared, pretty and glistening, he resisted the urge to dive in and instead very slowly began to lap at your folds. Fuck, you always tasted delicious, he really could eat you out for hours happily, drinking you down like a fine wine. He licked at you for a while, his cock pressing into the mattress, only growing harder the wetter you got for him. When he finally pressed one finger into you, he felt you stir and smiled, keeping his movements slow as he gently sucked your clit.

“Shit,” You whimpered, your hips rolling at the same time your hands ripped back the covers, revealing Poe where he lay between your thighs. He grinned up at you, pressing his face harder against your core and licking, his tongue sliding over the sensitive nub as he worked a second finger inside of you. “Poe, I’m so close...”

He growled in response to your words, curling his fingers to hit that spot inside of you that made you see stars, and he felt the wet convulsions of your orgasm hit, listened to the sounds of your moans. He kept his eyes on your face, delighting in the way your pleasure contorted your expression, your brows furrowed and your lower lip between your teeth. He worked you through the high, swallowing everything you gave him until you collapsed back into the cushions.

“Wow,” You breathed heavily, and Poe crawled up next to you on the bed with a smirk. “Haven’t had a wake-up call like that in a while. Do you think Finn and Rey would stay a few days more?”

Poe laughed, “Actually, I do. They’re obsessed with Bug,” He leaned down and kissed you, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. “Now, sweet girl, you think you can take my cock, now that I’ve warmed you up?” He whispered low in your ear, and you moaned in response.

Poe rolled you on top of him, then pushed himself up the bed so that he was sitting against the headboard and you were straddling his lap. Your hands automatically traced along the muscles of his chest, tickling slightly when you lowered them to his abs. Once he was settled, you reached down further and took hold of him, grinning when he groaned aloud at the feel of you squeeze his cock, then raised your hips, beginning to sink yourself onto him.

“Fuck, Poe,” Your head lolled back as you worked to take him, while Poe watched you, his hands now gripping your hips. He dropped his gaze to your soft stomach, his mind suddenly moving toward a thought he’d been holding back from you, not sure if it was the right time to bring it up. Things were so perfect, now, that he didn’t want to upset the balance.

But if Poe was being honest, he had been imagining Charlie having a sibling. The idea of making another baby with you, seeing you swell and getting to be there for the entire pregnancy, the birth, had been on his mind a lot lately. Now, as you sat in his lap, his cock fully splitting you, the thought of getting you pregnant made him pulse with desire. He leaned forward and took your nipple into his mouth, groaning as you began to roll your hips.

“Sweet girl,” He sighed, kissing a trail up your chest and neck, “So perfect, always so perfect for me.” He raised one hand to your head, pushing into your hair and gripping you, angling your head to capture your lips against his as he snapped his hips up to meet you.

You whimpered with each thrust, the sounds swallowed by Poe as he kissed you hard, trying to hold back his thoughts, distracting himself. He should have known it would never work on you—you could read him like a book.

“P-Poe, baby,” You pulled back a little, hips slowing, “What’s going on? You’re far away.” Your pupils were blown wide, skin flushed deliciously.

“It’s nothing,” He felt you drop your weight, settling into his lap but stilling your movements entirely. Your hands reached up from his chest to cup his cheeks, and you frowned at him. “Honestly, sweetheart.”

“It’s not like you to lie to me, Poe Dameron,” Your eyes searched his for a moment, then your frown brightened and you gave him a soft smile. “Would you just say it, flyboy?”

He stared at you, “Say...say what?”

You giggled, both of you gasping slightly at the way your cunt squeezed him in response. “I’ve caught you staring at me, a few times recently. Noticed that you get lost in thought, but then just smile and hide it away. I’m your wife,” You pressed a soft kiss to his lips, “You can say anything to me.”

Poe nodded, dropping his hands to your waist, “I know, it’s just, things are so fucking perfect,” He replied, his eyes locked on yours, “I don’t want to say something that makes you feel like I don’t think it is.”

“You won’t, I promise.”

He bit his lip, gazing at you in all of your beautiful glory; the sun streaming through the open window bathed you in the golden morning light, your eyes bright and every stunning curve bared to him. Why the two of you always found yourselves having serious discussions amid sex, he’d never understood.

“I want another baby—I’ve been thinking it for a while, but I just haven’t been sure how to mention it.” He broke off, glancing away from you to look out at the ocean, the waves fairly calm this morning. You leaned your head down, catching his eyes again, and smiled widely at Poe. His heart stuttered nervously in his chest.

“Oh, my love,” You cooed, brushing one hand through his hair, “Even when we don't realize it, we’re always on the same page. I’d love to have another baby.”

Poe let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, “Are-are you sure, sweet girl?”

Your smile never faltered, the warmth in your eyes so intense he swore he could feel the heat of it—of you. “I’ll go this week to see the Healers, have them remove my implant.” And before he could reply, your lips were on his and you started to roll your hips, clenching tight around him perfectly, deliciously.

Your movements were filled with intent, sending Poe the message that you were serious, that you felt the same. His heart swelled, the happiness flowing through him almost overwhelming—how had he gotten so lucky, with you? He didn’t understand, still to this day, how he deserved you. And yet every day you continued to show him how strong your love was, right down to understanding his thoughts before he did.

“Fuck,” He hissed against you, pressing his forehead into yours as you rode him, “Going to keep you full of my cum, sweet girl, fuck you every chance we get.”

Your whimper was enough to drag Poe towards the edge, that feeling of falling upward in your arms so close he had to quickly lower one hand to rub circles over your clit—he never left you wanting. He punched his hips up, groaning, picturing how you’d look carrying another baby, remembering how horny you had been when you were pregnant with Charlie—

“Poe, I’m cumming—oh,” your legs gave out as you came, the rush of wetness spilling over his lap and Poe came hard, grunting before he slammed your hips down and held you still. You had fallen against Poe, your head in the crook of his neck as you convulsed around him and he filled you deeply, pulsing in your tight heat. His body melted into yours and for just one moment it was like you and he were one, every breath of air from his lungs going into yours until he collapsed back against the headboard.

You stayed curled into his chest, gasping for air. Poe held you, even as he began to soften within, and stroked your hair gently. The breeze off the ocean cooled your sweat-coated skin, but since Charlie was with Rey and Finn, he figured he could coax you into the large ensuite bath for a long, relaxing shower.

“I love you, Poe,” You whispered, your head turning slightly so that you were looking up at him, your head still resting against his shoulder. “I didn’t know life could be like this.”

Poe met your gaze and smiled softly at you, brushing his hand across your face, “Sweet girl, I’m going to grow old with you.” He murmured, pulling you in for another kiss, languid and slow before he would start another day in paradise with his little family.

—

When life had finally settled on Yavin-4 for you and Poe—the house finished, Kes all moved in and Charlie adjusted to the new planet, your husband began to have nightmares.

At first, he never said anything to you about them. He acted as if they didn’t happen, but you were a light sleeper because of Charlie, so you always woke up. He didn’t speak, but he would toss around, whimper, his eyes moving rapidly beneath the lids. You knew he saw Temmin die, other friends too—and Leia, she hadn’t made it either. So many had been lost, and he told you how close it had been, how he almost hadn’t made it himself. He’d been through so much after you had gone to Sorgan, you weren’t surprised he had trouble easing into a life where the biggest decisions were about dinner or who was going to get up in the middle of the night to soothe the baby.

You let it happen for a week, hoping that once he settled in more and realized this was life now, they would fade. But you think his pretending they didn’t exist only made it worse, so eventually, you brought it up—and he’d been upset that he had been keeping you up at night. The war was won; but it didn’t take away any of the pain of losses suffered, the hardships he’d had to endure, and yet he’d offered to sleep in the guest room for a while, so you could get some sleep.

You had dismissed that idea immediately and told Poe that if he couldn’t get a good night’s rest then you didn’t need to either. And that was how it ended up that most nights, he’d wake up in a cold sweat and you would roll over and pull him in your arms and he would talk to you.

Poe would tell you everything that happened.

As the nights wore on, the stories became shorter, funnier, some just small memories from passing moments. But the nightmares became less intense, and within three months, they had stopped altogether. And you knew the details of every single moment of his life while you had been on Sorgan, every fight and sacrifice and close call. His mistakes, his triumphs, his fear—and the love he felt for Finn and Rey, for their friendship and loyalty.

It only managed to bring you closer to Poe, who by day showed only a happy, brave face for Charlie, becoming vulnerable in the dark of night, bare in your arms, whispering his story. The thing was, the amount of honesty meant that it was tough to keep things from one another—you could always read each other; now you could have silent conversations from across a room.

You loved how well you and Poe understood each other, but it was really damn inconvenient right now.

It had been a few months since Poe had told you he wanted another baby. It hadn’t come as a shock to you; you’d been thinking the same, wondering when it would feel like the right time, and then he had started acting strange and you managed to get him to confess, suspecting he was picturing another baby in the mix. Poe was true to his promise of having you all the time—every spare moment he could get, he was on you.

Charlie had been a beautiful surprise. This time, you could have fun with the process, which ended up including some fun dates. He’d fucked you behind the cantina in town during a rare night out for drinks. He brought you on beach picnics and you’d ride him on the sandy shore. You’d excuse yourself to go to the fresher and he’d appear out of nowhere and bend you over the counter, fuck you deep and quick before filling you, smacking your ass before he’d slip back out of the room with his cocky smirk.

It was very sexy. You kept letting it happen even though for a while now it wasn’t exactly necessary. You were twelve weeks along, and so far you’d managed to keep it a secret from Poe. You wanted to surprise him, trusting your curves to hide any physical evidence of the pregnancy. Because he was such a good dad, you were able to sneak away when he was preoccupied with Charlie to hurl or splash cool water on your face to quell a hot flash. You were lucky not to suffer too much from morning sickness, though you know you’d pay for that in the final trimester—when you were pregnant with Charlie, you felt like an oversized womp rat for weeks, barely able to stand, wobbling around, sweating constantly.

Today was special and so you’d saved the news to share. It was Poe’s birthday, something he wasn’t ever big on celebrating making it the perfect occasion to share the surprise. You were sat at the large outdoor table with Poe, Kes and Charlie, feet bare on the warm sand, the sky slowly turning indigo as the sun set below the horizon. Dinner was finished, and Charlie was starting to get sleepy, though she was in the toddler stage where fighting off sleep like it was a wild loth cat was the only way to survive.

“Well, sweetheart, thank you for a perfect birthday dinner,” Poe reached his hand across the table to take yours, squeezing slightly as he gazed at you and Charlie, who was in your lap playing with your hair. “Low key, no presents, just good food and family.”

Kes nodded next to his son, clapping Poe on the back, “Good food and family is what life is all about, that was what your mother believed.”

When Poe turned to his dad to reply, you glanced down at Charlie and grinned, lowering your voice, “Bug, can you do something for mummy please?”

Your clever girl smiled, her eyes lighting up immediately at the idea of helping her mother—she was a sweet kid, “Yep yep yep!” She chirped, her little fists coming up to clap against either side of your face gently.

You leaned your head next to hers and pitched your voice to a whisper, giving her the simple instructions. You repeated yourself to make sure she understood and watched as she began to nod aggressively, her brows pinching together in serious focus. You’re not sure she fully grasped what she was saying, which made it funnier when she climbed off your lap and ambled around the table to tug on Poe’s arm.

Poe glanced around at her, his smile breaking wide, “Hi bug, want some cuddle time with daddy?” He picked her up and settled her on his lap as you watched, trying to hold back your smirk. Kes was watching with a faraway, content expression—you think he had an idea of what was coming.

“No daddy,” Charlie replied, her face still scrunched up and serious, “You listen! Listen.” She repeated, dragging the word out as she glared up at Poe, who chuckled, his eyes seeking yours.

He gave you a questioning look and you shrugged innocently. Charlie reached for Poe’s face, patting his jaw so that he would focus on her, “Okay, Bug, what is it?”

“I am a big sitter.”

Poe arched a brow down at her while you clapped a hand over your mouth to hide your giggle, “A big sitter, Bug?”

Charlie bounced up and down excitedly, “Daddy, big sitter—I’mma big sitter!”

Still frowning, Poe glanced up at you again, this time his expression entirely mystified, “Do you understand her?” His voice was slightly strained with the effort of holding back a laugh at her silliness.

You nodded, grinning broadly across at him before looking at Charlie, “Bug, remember how mummy said the word? Sister—“

Charlie’s eyes widened in understanding, “Sister! Daddy, I’m a big SISTER!” She yelled the last word in triumph, her lips forming the word as Poe brushed some of her hair back from her face fondly. You watched as he froze, his mouth opening in surprise, and then slowly looked back at you.

You gave yourself away because a few tears had slipped out watching the exchange, so when Poe’s eyes met yours understanding flashed across his expression. Kes was the first to speak, his hands clapping together in glee, “That’s wonderful news, Bug! A big sister? Wow!” He swooped out of his seat, plucking Charlie from Poe’s arms, “I think you are nearly ready for bed, and mummy and daddy need some grown-up time—say goodnight!”

“NIGHT!” Charlie yelled, waving frantically while grinning up at Kes. He winked at you before turning to make his way up the beach and into the house, leaving you alone with your stunned husband, who was sitting perfectly still.

“You still with me, flyboy?” You took a sip of water, watching as he stood up from the table, a hand swiping through his curls. He was by your side in a flash, dropping to his knees next to your seat and turning you to face him.

“Sweetheart,” He breathed, his eyes shining with tears, “Are you—really, you’re pregnant?”

You cupped Poe’s face, his stubble tickling your hands, “Happy birthday, Poe. I know you said no gifts—“

Poe cut you off, raising slightly on his hunches to press his lips to yours. When he pulled back, his cheeks were wet, “How far along?” His eyes fell down your body, gazing questioningly, lovingly, at your stomach.

“Twelve weeks.”

“Wow,” He murmured, dropping his hands to run over the curves of your torso, “Sweet girl, this is the best birthday present I’ve ever gotten.” His eyes were soft, the honey of them still visible in the light from the candles on your dinner table.

You tilted your head, “Even better than the year Charlie snuck you that vat of Corellian wine?”

Poe barked out a laugh at the memory, “Shit, he and I were drunk for a week straight,” He leaned into you, kissing gently along your jaw as you giggled, “That comes in a close second to this, I think.”

Still laughing, you wrapped your arms fully around Poe and kissed him again. He tugged you off your chair and into his lap, sitting back onto the sand as the inky blue sky shined above with stars and the ocean played its soft melody.

“I love you, Poe.” You whispered, sighing in blissful content.

He held you in his arms and kissed you like it was the first time again, full of passion and emotion. You rolled your hips to indicate you were happy to stay out on the beach for a little while, a soft moan on your lips.

Poe chuckled warm and low, his hands falling to the waist of his pants. “Oh, sweet girl, I love you too.”

A/N: *Sobbing* Thank you so much for reading this series, I hope you loved reading it as much as I loved writing it. Thank you for the reblogs and kind comments, you guys are the best!

Taglist

@mermaidxatxheart @foxilayde @eleinemk @paintballkid711 @mylifeisactuallyamess @20th-centu-fairy-girl @deitysnips @cannedsoupsucks @ubri812 @poedameronloverx @hoeforthefictional @astrological-bitch @itsnottilly @itsdameron @alex-sulli @generousrunawaydonut @wildmoonflower @onlyferorder66 @afootnoteinyourhappiness @asaucecoveredsomething @ladydmalfoy

#night changes series #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron #reader insert #multichapter #friends to lovers #star wars #poe x you #poe dameron x female reader #poe dameron series #poe dameron smut #poe smut #star wars fanfiction #star wars x reader #angst #fluff #fanfic #oscar isaac #epilogue

[mioneslovefanfiction]

I’m here:

Hermione x reader

Prompts:

“You’re safe here, I got you.”

“I know for a fact that you’re not “fine”

“Would it be all right if I borrowed your sweater? It smells like you.”

“You’re comfy.”

“Shh, you’re safe. I won’t let you go. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Description: Hermione is stressed out from studying for OWLs. Y/n tries to give he a break and pulls her away from her work, and comforts her during a freak out. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Warnings: Food (no eating tho), Anxiety attack-please do not read if content is triggering

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was in the way she talked. Slightly higher than normal, and a little airily.

It was in the way she avoided eye contact, and when she gave into it, it was like her eyes were out of focus.

The way she clenched her jaw while reading in front of the fire one night. Normally, she enjoyed everything she was reading, and her features were usually content as she immersed herself happily into any topic. Instead, she was stony-faced, eyebrows drawn together with a frown as she huffed through the book.

Something was up with Hermione Granger.

It was normal for you and your girlfriend to study on the floor in front of the common room fire together. What wasn’t normal was how you were doing it independently. Normally you read together, or quizzed each other, or simply talked about the subject you were studying for. Today, however, the common room was full of cold unusual silence, as Hermione turned page after page, long into the night. The light from the fire danced angrily across her scowl, and you gulped, trying to focus on your work. You didn’t push the topic when Hermione was a bit distant those couple days. It wasn’t normal for her to be that work obsessed, but you let it be, thinking she just needed to get it over with.

But, after a few days of Hermione and her studying being inseparable, you came up from quidditch practice and Hermione wasn’t waiting for you, like normal. Your worry kicked in when she wasn’t waiting in the common room either.

Something was wrong in the air immediately as you stepped into your shared dorm. There was an anxious tension, and the room was uncharacteristically cold. Hermione sat, back to you at the desk in front of the window. Her leg jiggled, and her jaw was moving as she chewed the inside of her cheek. Her non-writing hand twirled a curl around her finger, rapidly.

“Love?” You asked, hesitantly. She jumped several inches into the air before turning to you, your attempt not to startle her, failing. You only saw a glimpse before she turned back around, away from you. “Yes?” She asked, attention wavering no further from her work.

“Are you okay? I was wondering why you didn’t meet me in our normal spot.” “I’m fine.” Her answer was monotone and short, leading you to know that even if she thought it was, it was not true. “Sooo, what are you doing?” You asked, trying to inject yourself into her studying. “Professor Bins.” She was being vague and indirect, her body language showing she was beyond on edge. “Oh, are you working on the essay?” You tried not to be hurt at her negligence. She simply hummed a yes to you. “Alright well, I’m gonna reread the textbook in the common room in front of the fire. You’re welcome to join me if you’d like.” She didn’t answer when you waited for her to. Sighing in defeat, you planted a hurried kiss on her cheek before grabbing your sweater and leaving.

If Hermione had been focusing on you, she would’ve noticed how your text book remained in your bag, on the floor. She’d wonder why you retrieved your sweater to sit by a fire, and lastly she’d wonder how you were doing. Instead, she sighed at the sound of the door closing behind you, and scribbled, somehow faster. You didn’t mind, however, knowing this wasn’t about you, and that she needed you.

___________

You sat in the common room waiting, for ten minutes. When she didn’t show up, plan B began, because you knew something was off. You gathered some things you had kept with Ginny and headed off to the East end of the castle, determined.

You returned to your dorm twenty minutes later. There was the same jumpy tension hanging in your normally warm, inviting room. This time, you walked up to your working girlfriend and rested your hands on her shoulders, standing behind her chair. “Can I steal you for an hour, love?” You asked, planting a kiss on the top of her head, and starting to massage her shoulders. Her eyes closed at their own accord, and her head slowly leaned back onto your chest. She sighed, “I- I can’t, baby. I have to-“ Hermione’s excuse was cut off by your lips tugging on hers. She hummed and you smiled. Disconnecting, your eyes met. “Please?” You begged, your eyebrows drawn together. She couldn’t help but smile and roll her eyes at your pleading. “I-… fine, but not a whole hour.” You beamed at her answer before grabbing her hand and tugging her up, and out your door.

You dashed, laughing through the corridors. Your eyes gleamed, your face was elated, making Hermione blush and beam in spite of herself. Eventually, you dragged her to the base of the astronomy tower, and she realized what you had been doing while she worked. She shook her head and laughed as you started, “After you, my love.” You grinned smugly, gesturing up the stairs in front of you. Rolling her eyes and smiling, she began the journey to the top of the tower, you following close behind, eager for her to see what you did.

You climbed higher and higher in a comfortable silence, just enjoying uninterrupted time together for once.

Finally, you realized you must have reached the top, as Hermione froze in front of you. You caught up, behind her to see she was standing in the doorway, looking around, amazed. You chuckled to yourself, pleased. You reached to her side and grasped her hand again, intertwining your fingers, which fell together like they were made to fit in each other. She slowly stepped forward a few paces, allowing you to step into the room next to her. Now side-by-side, you watched her absorb the room.

Fairy lights hung in spirals from the beams separating the glass panes on the ceiling. A comforter lay in the middle of the room, complete with a few cushy pillows. There was a wicker picnic basket on the floor behind the blanket, and next to it sat an unlit candle.

Hermione’s eyes danced eagerly over each detail, the orbs bursting with wonder and astonishment. She turned to you, incredulously, “Wha- is this what you were doing?” You nodded, blushing before looking down at your feet with a soft smile. You gently tugged her hand in the direction of the blanket, and you two started walking over to it. Sitting down, she shook her head, speechless. “You made this for me?” She finally managed, eyes full of adoration as she rested her hand appreciatively on your knee, her thumb rubbing back and forth. “Of course! You deserve all this, and so much more, ‘Mione.” Hermione blushed, finally looking deep into your eyes with a small smile. You leaned in and rested you lips against hers. Hermione was a dangerous substance, so powerful and addicting. You would have worried about falling, if your mind wasn’t assured of her silken lips catching you, just like the thousand times they had before. You separated and brought a hand to her velvety cheek, rubbing your thumb back and forth a few times, before tucking a stray curl behind her ear.

____________

You broke the comfortable silence, “So, you’ve been kind of distant this week. A little off from your normal self. I’m worried. Are you ok?” Hermione disconnected your eyes quickly, “I’m-“ You cut her off, knowing what she’d say, “I know for a fact that you’re not ‘fine’.” Hermione scowled uncharacteristically at the ground, when she gasped suddenly and jumped up. “My essay! It’s been too long, I need to go!” She made to leave, but you grabbed her hand before she could. “Let me go, I haveto leave! I need to study.” Her voice came out harsh, making you falter momentarily. She saw the hurt in your eyes and started to panic.

Her chest rose and fell rapidly and she started to sweat. “I- oh no. I have to go. I hurt you. I’m gonna fail. I didn’t mean to- I need to study. I hurt you.” She muttered, hyperventilating. “Hey, love, look at me. Hey, it’s okay, you’re fine.”

Her hands rose to run through her hair, flustered. Her eyes were wide, and darted between your figure and the door as she was torn. “You didn’t deserve that. I’m gonna fail the class.” You guided her to sit down with you and held both her hands in yours. You moved them to rest on your chest and started breathing deeply, “It’s alright, we’re fine. Breathe, ‘Mione, breathe. I’m here with you, I’m not leaving. Breathe just like me. Hey, look at me.” You voice was comforting, and Hermione finally met your eyes and started to match her breathing with yours.

When her panting had gone down you pulled her against your chest and laid down against one of the pillows behind you two. “You’re safe here, I got you.” Hermione’s head lay over your heart to ground her further. “Shh, you’re safe. I won’t let you go.” Your hand ran through her curls, soothingly as you whispered to her, “Everything’s okay. We’re together. You’re gonna kill the OWLS. You’re the smartest in the class. You can study with me, we’re in this together, as a team, aren’t we? I’m not going anywhere.” Eventually your affirmations died down, and a refreshing quiet washed over you both. The May breeze coming in from all directions of the open tower kept you guys comfortable. The sounds of the leaves settling in for bed and the gentle, distant lapping of the black lake reached your ears.

Hermione took in a deep breath and let it out in a content sigh. “I am so sorry, love.” She sounded guilty. “What on earth for?” You asked. “You we’re just trying to distract me and take care of me, and I just unraveled on you, out of nowhere. Not to mention I’ve been ignoring you for almost a week. You’re my girlfriend, and I just neglected you.” You sighed, “Mione, your head has been everywhere this week, and it’s fine. You’re always on top of everything, it just caught up to you. Don’t worry about me, I understand, okay? I know it wasn’t about me, it’s alright.” Hermione grunted, “I know, I just feel bad.” “Well don’t. We’re here together now, aren’t we? Let’s just focus on this moment.” Hermione smiled gratefully at that, snuggling further into your chest. “You’re comfy,” she giggled, making you laugh.

You kissed the top of her head delicately, “I love you.” She shifted to look up at you, eyes shimmering in the fairy lights and stars that sprinkled the inky sky laying above you. A grin spread on her face, making her happy eyes twinkle. “I love you too,” she answered. She leaned forward and you kissed her passionately, letting all your reassurance pour into it. She gave you a shy smile after pulling a part, “Would it be all right if I borrowed your sweater? It smells like you.” You laughed before reaching over and handing her your sweater. You shook your head as she squealed happily, cradling the clothing. Hermione pulled the jumper over her head eagerly. Her head popped out of the top suddenly, her smile a beam, curls a mess, and eyes gleaming ecstatically.

Her hands were balled inside the sleeves as she gripped your face to kiss you. Her lips were warm, cushy, and gentle. The material of the sweater on each of your cheeks was so soft, but scratchy at the same time. Your foreheads rested together after separating, and you stared lovingly, deep into each other’s eyes. You took her hands in yours, and said seriously, “Never change. Please always be the girl I love so deeply.” She lifted a pinky and said, “I promise.” You latched your pinky with her’s and placed a delicate kiss on her freckle sprinkled nose. She scrunched it in pleasure and placed a peck to your lips in return.

You reached over for the matches you had sat by the candle earlier, lighting it. Removing the glasses from the basket, you poured each

of you a glass of sparkling cider. You took out two plates topped with baked sandwiches and fruit salad. The melons were cut in to stars, making Hermione smile at all the thought you put into this. You lastly retrieved cannolis for dessert.

________________

You lied back down after eating, gently pulling Hermione with you. She burrowed her head under your chin, nestling in. Your girlfriend raised a balled hand under your sweater’s sleeve up to her face. Her eyes fluttered closed as she inhaled deeply, smiling contently as your cherry blossom scent reached her button nose. You both giggled, and you ran your fingers through her mane. You spent another hour curled together under the twinkling stars, talking, or sometimes simply laying in soothing quiet. You enjoyed being alone together, content with the world continuing around you.

The candlelight danced cheerily across Hermione’s perfectly chiseled, yet distinct features. The stress of school was no match for the pair of you. It was you two against the world because you had each other. You never wanted to be apart from the amazing girl on top of you. Her entire being was utterly flawless, and you were entirely devoted to every particle in it, with every bit of you. You couldn’t choose not to adore her even if you tried. You were whipped, wrapped entirely around the little pinky you had latched not half an hour ago. You were deeply, madly, hopelessly in love with her.

A/n: my family and i learned that my great grandmother’s tumor is growing again and it can’t be removed because of the location. Sooo I’m taking a very last minute 12 hour road trip to see her while she’s still doing pretty well.There’s no wifi (I write my stories in the notes app before copy and pasting them to upload them so I don’t need wifi to write) and every now and then I’ll need a distraction, so I’d love any requests sent, along with any prayers.

-mioneslove<3

#hermione x reader #hermione fic #hermione granger x reader #hermione fanfiction #hermione #hermione granger #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #hp fanfic #Fanfic #fanfiction #hp girls #hp #requests open #send requests

[nikethestatue]

Spy Games

Elriel Month - Day 3

Spying

Spying Lessons

Elain, the pretty, polite, courteous sister, who spoke well and moved gracefully, was also one who was never considered with any seriousness by anybody. Not her mother, not their weak, gentle father, not the imperious, sharp-tongued Nesta, or the self-assured, determined Feyre. However, she was a merchant’s daughter, and she was as sharp-eyed, as Nesta was sharp-tongued. 

She inherited the trait from their father--he was always able to spot a deal, or a weakness, a loophole and he used it to his full advantage when making deals. She watched him, and learned how to use her words, how to compliment and smile, how to appear innocent and helpless, while seeking favors and looking to get what she wanted. It worked. It worked with everyone--it worked with Nesta, worked with their servants (when they had them), and when they didn’t, and had nothing, Elain always managed to charm someone at the market for an extra apple, a couple of bread rolls, or a swath of cloth. Even Lord Nolan was not immune to her charms, and even though there were better offers from others, he encouraged Greyson to court Elain, despite her family's ‘reputation’. Elain loved Greyson, but she also watched and noticed. She saw groves of ash trees, the number of sentries patrolling the walled estate, and how many guard dogs there were. She didn’t even try, but she noticed...and counted...and remembered.

Nuala was good. Smooth and discrete, she’d never be suspected of keeping tabs on Amren. Though Amren was a vengeful Angel of a young god in her previous life, and she probably knew what Nuala was doing. Yet, Nuala was not so good as to suspect Elain. Because Elain knew as well. It came as a surprise, but it was apparent to Elain that Nuala closely monitored Amren, as well as Varian, when they were around. 

They were making lemon cakes in the kitchen--Elain and the twins. Baking and cooking--many assumed that that’s what Elain was good for--the kind, tidy, domestic Elain. What no one, except for one person, was privy to was that these chores quieted the roaring in Elain’s head. They silenced the visions, cleared the pounding in her skull, gave her a sense of normalcy, even if for only a little while. 

“What do you think Varian reports to his High Lord?” the question startled the twins and they exchanged quick looks.

Elain’s face remained placid, as she busied herself with grating lemon zest. “Do you think they laugh?” she chuckled. “Our court is dramatic, to be sure.”

The twins were silent. 

“Is it wise though,” she continued, uninterrupted, “to have a representative of another Court so closely entwined with the affairs of the Night Court?”

“The High Lord trusts Prince Varian,” said Cerridwen, her voice neutral.

“Perhaps.”

Elain stirred the zest into the custard and there was silence, the twins assuming that the conversation was over. 

“Does Azriel?” she suddenly asked.

They stared. 

“Does Azriel trust Varian?” she pressed.

“The lord,” began Nuala, but Elain interrupted. “Not High Lord,”

“Lord Azriel,” corrected Nuala, “does what he must to keep the Night Court safe.”

That explained everything.

“Could Azriel use another pair of eyes and ears?” Elain didn’t even know where the offer came from. Perhaps, it stemmed from the desire to be useful, to offer something of herself that so few knew that she even possessed. She turned to the twins and stared them down, her gaze unflinching.

“Teach me,” she pleaded. “Teach me what you know. What and how you do it. Please.”

“Lord Azriel may not approve,” countered Cerridwen softly.

“Let’s not tell him,” whispered Elain,

“Lord Azriel will know.”

“Eventually. I am not asking you to lie to him,” she added quickly, sensing that this was the reason for their hesitation. “Just don’t tell him. Not yet. Teach me, a little something, and then I’ll decide if it’s for me. Please. I,”

“Fine,” said Nuala. Cerridwen gave her a silent look of admonishment and surprise, but did not argue. Perhaps that would come later. “We’ll teach you the way he taught us.”

“Yes!” Elain’s brown eyes sparkled with excitement. Goodness, she hadn’t felt this excited in….well, forever.

The lessons were not what she expected, but she did not question them.

There were no weapons, or peeking through peepholes, or breaking locks.

At first, it was a little bit boring even. Odd requests, such as making conversations with random faeries--in the park, on the street, at the markets. The twins would point out a fae and order Elain to go and start a conversation. It lasted for weeks, and she even grew frustrated, thinking that they were just humoring her and these ‘lessons’ were nothing but a game. Until one day, Nuala told her to obtain specific information. She pointed at an elderly male Fae and requested, “Approach. Come back with the following information--did he serve in the first War, what rank, does he have children, how many, and what is his favourite breakfast?”

“What?” Elain stared in confusion, but Nuala’s face remained inscrutable. 

“Is there a problem?” asked Nuala. Her tone of voice...well, the tone was very much Azriel’s.

Elain shook her head and said, “no”, before crossing the street and approaching the male fae.

The realization that she could do this was thrilling. At once, she understood why she spent all those weeks approaching and making conversations with all those fae. She found ways, ways to ingratiate herself to them, to mark something small, but unique to each one, and then weave a connection around that tiny tidbit. It worked every time. 

The elderly male fae had a small, but noticeable limp. This was Elain’s opening. He was hauling a basket of groceries, and she approached gently, offering help. Oh, he couldn’t possibly trouble such a pretty lady. And she was a High Fae to boot. No, no, thank you, he could manage. Not a problem at all, she was walking that way anyway. What was he making for dinner with all those vegetables? Oh, soup? Did the wife send him to the market? Oh, a widower? So sorry. Were there children to assist? Three? That’s good that they helped out…

“He was a Captain in the Third Legion during the first War. He is a widower, with three children--two male, and one female. Three grandchildren as well. He usually eats leftovers for breakfast, because he is too lazy to cook, but his favorite breakfast are almond croissants from the Brea Bakery,” reported Elain.

A small, satisfied smile touched Nuala’s lips.

So the lessons continued. She was ordered to obtain more detailed information, and in places which were harder to access. She did. Sometimes, she failed, but rarely.

In addition, Cerridwen began training her on walking. 

Walking? 

Walking.

“Make your presence unknown,” she explained and Elain only nodded. Sure, she would learn to walk, if that’s what was required. She learned how to roll her feet in such a manner that they were completely silent with every step that she took. Learned how to notice her own body, its presence, and the space that it occupied. And learned how to make it unknown. How to melt into shadows, stand near someone and have them be unaware of her, sneak quietly into rooms and spaces. It took a month, maybe longer. Meanwhile, she learned other tricks. How to swap papers, how to pull documents with a flick of her wrist, how to read upside down (very difficult). 

“Could you take this to Lord Azriel please,” Cerridwen handed Elain a folder. 

“Um...yes, of course,” Elain took the folder, a bit surprised that Cerridwen couldn’t deliver it herself, but by the time she was going to ask, Cerridwen had disappeared.

First things first--Elain didn’t know where Azriel was.

The River House was enormous, so she started with Rhysand’s office, but it was empty. She peeked out into the garden, but only saw baby Nyx and his nanny, who was attempting to contain Nyx on a picnic blanket, and failing. Elain smiled. Nyx crawled like a fiend and made an aggressive beeline towards the fluffy peonies. No doubt, they’d be trampled and pulled soon enough. Especially, if the nanny wouldn’t take her eyes off the handsome delivery male who was standing by the gate and flirting with her.

Elain closed her eyes. Smell. Sense. They haven’t gotten that far in their training yet, but Azriel’s scent--oh, she knew it well. The most delicious scent to ever hit her nostrils. The one scent that she craved and hungered for above all others. Even in this huge house, she could isolate Azriel’s scent, as it rose above all others, at least for her. The strongest trail led to Azriel’s bedroom, which was unsurprising, even if he did not spend much time here anymore. He and Rhysand met to discuss matters of state, and then there were the mandatory ‘family dinners’ that Azriel attended. They used to be obligatory, but after the last Solstice, they became mandatory, by order of the High Lord. 

No, Azriel wasn’t in his bedroom. She followed the scent down the hallway, past the drawing room, then up the side stairs. Ah. She should’ve guessed. There was a terrace that overlooked the garden that Azriel favored. Sometimes, she thought that he observed her from there, when she tangled with weeds and seeds. But that couldn’t be. Not after the fiasco during the last Solstice and him pulling away from her with no explanation. A momentary lapse of reason on his part.

She spotted the spread of his wings. A smile touched her lips. How things were different before, when he was so comfortable around her. When he’d come and sit with her in the garden, sunning his wings, doing his work, both of them enjoying each other’s company without the need to talk. All of that somehow crashed and burned, and she didn’t know why and how to bring that intimacy back.

“Azriel,” she said, “Cerr,”

Azriel flinched and whipped his head to her. His eyes blew wide at the sight of her, standing in the doorway.

“Elain...Phhh, you startled me….” he muttered hoarsely.

And the Spymaster of the Night Court shifted with discomfort. 

She had surprised him. 

“Sorry,” she murmured and handed him the folder. “I apologize. Cerridwen asked me to give this to you.”

He was still staring at her, as if processing what had occurred. His hazel eyes raked over her body, settling on her feet for a few moments. It was like he was trying to discern how she managed to approach him so silently.

“Umm, thank you,” he said and opened the folder. It was empty.

Neither one said anything to each other, and Elain turned and stepped back into the house, her cheeks flushed.

As she hurried down the hall, Cerridwen and Nuala both appeared in front of her, grins plastered on their lovely angular faces.

“What?!” she snapped. 

The grins widened.

“There was nothing in the folder!” she exclaimed, irritated.

“No,” agreed Cerrdiwen. “But you passed the first phase of your training.”

“You surprised Lord Azriel.”

#elriel #elrielmonth #elrielmonth21 #azriel #azriel and elain #elain archeron #spymaster #elain x azriel #elain x nuala x cerridwen #nuala and cerridwen #elriel fanfic #acotar fanfiction

[wayward-dreamer]

Life’s Lessons - Going To California

AO3 Link: Read Here

Pairing: Mechanic!Dean x Female!Teacher!Reader

Word count: 6,964

Summary: When Sam and Eileen back out of going to California, Dean and Y/N take a trip to the golden state in their place. Dean reflects on his relationship with Y/N, making a decision on what his next step should be.

Warnings: Lots of fluff, Dean being sweet (yes, that’s a warning), Swearing, Smut, Dirty talk, Oral sex (Male and Female receiving), Unprotected sex (wrap it up before you tap it people), more fluff.

Music: Going to California by Led Zeppelin (Dean and Y/N starting their journey scene)

Life’s Lessons Spotify Playlist

A/N: Time stamp #3 is here! I’m so excited to share it with you all! There’s so much more to come for these two, but more on that at a later stage! ;) As always, happy reading and enjoy! :)

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Life’s Lessons Saga Masterlist

Dean walked through the house from the kitchen, twisting off the caps on two beers, the necks of the bottles resting between his fingers. He stepped out onto the back porch, walking over to his little brother, who was manning the grill while he was gone. He handed one over to him and then took over turning the burgers. It was a warm evening, the sun slowly setting and bathing the sky in a light purple hue. A soft breeze started, making it a perfect night to sit out and eat dinner.

It had been a while since the brothers saw each other, Sam having been busy with case after case, so when the weekend came and he had nothing work related to do, they made the plan for Sam and Eileen to come over for dinner to his house. Eileen had said she didn’t mind them coming over to her and Sam’s apartment, but Y/N had put her foot down, because no one was going to let the pregnant woman do anything at this point.

Tapping Sam on the shoulder, Dean gestured for him to move. Sam frowned, tapping his older brother back in defiance, not making a move to step away.

“Alright, scoot, let me show you how it’s done,” Dean muttered, as he pushed Sam away from the grill.

“Dude, I know what I’m doing,” Sam grumbled, as he moved to the side, his brother taking over, the flames of the grill fanning a little higher.

“No, you don’t,” Dean stated, chuckling when he saw Sam roll his eyes. He flipped the burgers over, one side browned to perfection already.

“How’s things?” Sam asked, smiling.

“Good,” Dean replied, moving away from the grill slightly, as the flames were too hot. “Amazing, actually.”

“That’s great, man,” Sam said, his smile growing.

Dean nodded, biting his lip as he wondered whether he should tell his little brother what he had been thinking about recently.

“Dean.” Sam got his older brother’s attention when he saw the look on his face. That one always meant there was something Dean wasn’t telling him. “What’s going on?”

“I, uh…” Dean smiled, unable to hide it anymore. “I think this is it.”

Sam frowned slightly as he didn’t completely understand. However, his eyes widened as things became clear very quickly. “Wait… you mean…?”

“Yeah, Sammy,” Dean muttered, smirking. “I wanna ask Y/N to marry me.”

“Oh my god.” Sam was in complete shock, but if it were even possible, the smile on his face became bigger. “Oh my god!”

“Shh,” Dean hissed, looking back into the house behind Sam. “She’ll fucking hear you, man.”

“Sorry,” Sam apologized, quietly. “This is great, Dean.”

Dean chuckled as he nodded. “I know. It’s insane, it’s only been 4 months that we’ve been together officially, but it just feels right.”

“So, when-when are you going to do it?” Sam asked, leaning back against the outdoor dining table as he looked at his brother.

“I don’t know, man. I’m just… I’m scared if I do it too soon and things go south, then it’s all screwed to hell. I just wanna enjoy our time together, we’re having so much fun… I don’t want to ruin that,” Dean explained, his shoulders tensed as his jaw clenched.

“For what it’s worth, I don’t think that’ll happen,” Sam reassured his older brother, offering him a soft smile.

“Thanks, Sammy.” Dean raised his hand and tapped Sam’s shoulder. “Let’s just keep it on the down low, for now. Okay?”

“Yeah. You bet.” Sam nodded and held his beer out. Dean smirked and clinked his bottle against Sam’s.

Y/N walked out onto the back porch, holding a tray with all the fixings for burgers on top of it. Eileen walked out behind her, a beer in one hand for Y/N, a glass of water in the other for herself. Putting everything down on the table, she helped Eileen sit down, pushing the table back slightly to give her more room with her round belly.

“How are you?” she signed, smiling.

Eileen frowned, shaking her head. “I feel like a whale,” she responded, signing but also speaking loud enough that Sam heard her.

“You are not.” Sam signed as he came over and kissed the top of her head, but she looked up at him and glared.

“Easy for you to say. I can’t see my feet,” she signed at him, shaking her head.

Sam tried to say something, but they were interrupted by Dean announcing that the burgers were ready.

He walked over to the table and put the platter down, moving behind Y/N as he passed her. Grabbing his hand, she stopped him and leaned up, pressing her lips to his in a sensual kiss. Dean’s arms came around her waist and pulled her in closer. He pulled away after a moment, smiling against her lips.

“Kiss me like that again some time. Okay?” he asked, smirking.

“Okay,” she laughed, pecking his cheek.

“Ugh, not while we’re eating,” Sam groaned, looking away from them.

“Shut up, Sam.” Dean tapped his little brother on the head, ducking away when Sam tried to get him back. He sat down next to Y/N, chuckling as he started assembling his burger.

They all started to eat, everyone complimenting Dean on the taste of the patties.

“So, there’s something I wanted to ask you guys.” Sam got Dean and Y/N’s attention after swallowing his bite, looking between both of them.

“Shoot,” Dean muttered around the morsel in his mouth.

“How do you both feel about a little getaway to California?” Sam asked.

“Aww Sammy, are you asking us to come on your little trip with Eileen?” Dean asked in return, teasing his little brother. Y/N chuckled lightly, nudging Dean’s arm to stop messing with him.

“No, I mean just the two of you,” Sam replied, rolling his eyes. He looked at Eileen and she laughed. “A friend from college owns a beach house there, but he and his wife are going to be in Europe for the summer.”

“Man, that’s the life,” Y/N sighed as Dean nodded to what she said.

“And we would go and keep an eye on things for two weeks before his sister comes to take care of the place, but Eileen feels like she can’t make the trip in the car,” Sam explained, looking at his wife before looking back at his brother.

“And I can’t fly now, so that sucks too,” Eileen signed, pouting. Y/N frowned and held her hand across the table, squeezing it.

“So, what do you guys say?” Sam asked, raising an eyebrow. “You want to go?”

Dean and Y/N looked at each other. A smile grew on her face, not even having to think it over. Dean smirked, biting his lip. He turned to Sam and gave him a simple nod. “Hell yeah, we’re in.”

“Great, I’ll let him know,” Sam informed, quickly taking out his phone and sending a text to his friend.

They all continued eating, talking and laughing as the sun completely set, enjoying the summer breeze that blew around them. As Sam and Eileen left and Dean and Y/N got ready for bed, neither of them could keep the smiles off their faces. A little two-week getaway to California was exactly what they needed, and Y/N couldn’t wait to spend some uninterrupted, quality time with her boyfriend.

“So, you’re really not going to tell me why we’re driving instead of flying to California?”

Y/N dumped her bags in the trunk of the Impala, standing in front of Dean as he closed it and she waited for him to say something to her question. It was the same one that had come up a few days ago, while Dean and Y/N were at John and Mary’s for dinner. After she asked why they weren’t flying, his parents both laughed quietly to themselves and John added a “I’m sure Dean will tell you eventually” and left her to figure out the rest.

Dean got into the driver’s seat as Y/N got into the passenger’s side and turned to him, eying him suspiciously. He looked through his box of cassette tapes, ignoring her as she looked at him. She narrowed her eyes as a thought came to her, and the realisation quickly dawned on her as her eyes widened.

“Dean Winchester… are you scared of flying?” she asked, an amused smile gracing her face.

“No.” He was lying, and he knew he had no reason to; it’s not like she would make fun of him for it, but it was a little embarrassing for him.

“Dean.” She got his attention, smiling at him when he looked at her, clearly annoyed that she had figured it out. “It’s okay. It’s not a big deal.”

“Exactly, so let’s forget about it,” he mumbled, choosing a tape and shoving the box back under the seat.

“You know that it’s the fastest and safest form travel, though, right?” she asked. She wanted to make him see there was nothing to fear. “And I would be right next you, talking you through the whole thing if you got scared.”

“Yeah, you’re not getting me in one of those flying death traps, sweetheart,” he declared, shoving the tape into the player.

She laughed, shaking her head. “Fine. You win. For now.”

The tape began to play, causing her to sigh as she heard the first few notes of “Going to California” by Led Zeppelin play out.

“A little on the nose, huh?” he asked, chuckling.

“A little, but it’s good,” she replied, leaning over and kissing him, softly.

“Alright,” he said, turning the key in the ignition of the Impala, grinning as it came to life. He turned to her, the smile not leaving his face. “You ready?”

“Absolutely,” she said, smiling wide.

Dean backed out of the driveway and took one last glance at the house, speeding off down the street, more than ready to spend two weeks in sunny California.

They drove for 11 hours, taking turns in driving after they would take a break at a rest stop. Y/N was glad he trusted her enough to drive his beloved Baby, after she had reassured him that she had driven an older car before and would be able to handle it. Luckily, it didn’t take too long for him to agree. However, when neither of them could afford to keep their eyes open any longer, Dean pulled into a motel somewhere outside of Albuquerque, New Mexico. Their heads hit the pillows of the uncomfortable bed and they fell asleep instantly, not caring what the mattress felt like because of how exhausted they were.

The next morning, they woke up early and got ready, had breakfast at a small diner across the street from the motel and were back on the road after they had eaten. Once again taking turns, they made it to Malibu in 10 hours, with Dean not really taking speed limits into account, citing he wanted to get there sooner. Y/N was annoyed but she couldn’t be too mad at him, knowing she couldn’t wait to get there either. By the time Dean did his poor rendition of Free Fallin’, it was around 6pm when they got there, stopping at a grocery store and picking up things they would need, before driving to the house.

As Dean drove down the streets lined with fancy beach houses, both he and Y/N started to feel a little awkward as they passed each one, knowing this wasn’t something they were used to. Looking down at her phone, Y/N confirmed the address and Dean pulled into the driveway, turning the car off. They both stared up at the white, two-storey house with large windows, a freshly mowed lawn and long path leading up to the front steps.

“Is it too late to go back?” he asked, turning to her.

She shook her head, moving across the seat and leaning into him. “We’re not going anywhere, but inside that house and just having a great two weeks to ourselves.”

“Damn straight,” he nodded with a small smile, leaning in to kiss her cheek.

He got out of the Impala and went over to the trunk, taking out the bags and closing it as Y/N walked ahead of him.

She keyed in the number on the lockbox that was given to them by Sam after he spoke to his friend, and took out the key to the large double doors of the house. She unlocked the door and swung them open, gasping as she walked in. The house was big but modest, which was a pleasant surprise as she walked through. Everything was open concept, the kitchen and living area leading out to the outdoor area, which had an amazing view of the ocean. Dean came in and dropped the bags near the staircase, immediately standing next to her as they looked out at the Pacific coast.

“I was right,” she muttered, quietly as the ocean breeze blew her hair back softly. “This must be the life.”

“Damn,” Dean whispered as he looked out at the sparkling blue ocean. A life like this wouldn’t be so bad he thought to himself as he walked out onto the balcony.

There were a few wicker armchairs, a coffee table and benches outside, along with a wooden dining set and on the far side of the outdoor area was a fire pit, with a few chairs around it. He sighed happily, smirking when he felt Y/N’s arms wrap around his waist, her lips pressing a soft kiss to the nape of his neck.

“Should we unpack?” she asked, softly as her lips brushed the skin of his neck.

“Yeah,” he replied, turning around and taking her hand in his as they walked into the house.

They both couldn’t wait to kick off their little trip in the golden state.

Y/N sighed contently, feeling the warmth of the sun against her face as it hit the shade above her. She crossed her bare legs that were out of the shade, extended on the beach chair and getting a great tan going. Pulling down her sunglasses with her finger, she smiled as she spotted her boyfriend coming out of the water, her own personal James Bond walking towards her, as he shook off the seawater from his hair. Beads of water dripped down his muscles, glistening as the sun shined down on him. She bit her lip as she thought about everything that she couldn’t wait to do with him when they got back to the house. He smirked at her as he got to the lounge chair, picking up his towel and wiping himself down.

They had been in California for a few days and were having an incredible time. They had spent their days exploring Malibu and the surrounding areas, driving around in the Impala and stopping whenever they would see a look-out spot, taking a selfie everywhere they went. They had made dinner and just relaxed for a few nights at the house, but later that night they were going out for dinner to a restaurant they saw while they were driving around and really wanted to go to.

Y/N continued to watch Dean as he sat down on the beach chair next to hers, the shade covering his face as he leaned back. He turned his head and smirked at her, giving her a wink.

“You’re so obvious, you know that right?” he teased, knowing she had been checking him out.

“Shut up,” she mumbled, pushing her glasses up.

He chuckled, looking out at the gorgeous view in front of him.

“Water’s great, not too cold right now,” he told her, his eyes closing as he felt the sun over the shade warming his face.

“Might have to get in later,” she said, smiling but was more than happy to stay there and enjoy the view in front of her.

“Or… now,” Dean suggested, standing up from the beach chair and holding his hand out to her. His eyes roamed over her red with white polka dots high waist bikini, his lip tucking in between his teeth as he gazed at her.

“But I’m so comfortable,” she protested, wriggling in against the chair. “And you were just in the water.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. He leaned down and took her hand in his, tugging on it. “Come on, sweetheart. You’re coming in with me.”

She looked up at him with a frown but gazed out at the ocean, the waves mesmerizing as they came up and receded back.

“Alright,” she agreed, a smile playing at her lips. She got up and took off her wide-brim beach hat, dropping it on the chair along with her sunglasses. Her hand slipped back into his, as they walked out towards the water.

Dean and Y/N moved through the waves and under once they got to waist height. They swam and splashed around, laughing and enjoying their time in the water. They stayed for a while, before they knew they had to get out and back to the house. They swam to the shore, walking out onto the sand and wiping themselves down before packing up the chairs and their belongings. They walked from the public beach to the private one the property was situated on, leaving the chairs and soiled flip-flops in the lower mud room before they walked up the stairs to the house.

They took turns having a shower, as Y/N refused Dean’s offer of showering together to avoid the obvious distraction that he always posed whenever they did. After she had freshened up, Y/N took a little time to get ready, wanting things to be perfect. There wasn’t anything different about tonight, but she still wanted to make it special for the two of them. This was their first little trip together and it had been wonderful so far, so she couldn’t wait to continue to have an amazing time with Dean for the rest of their days there.

She kept her make-up light and her hair open, sweeping it over her shoulder. She wore a red A-line dress with small, white floral pattern and a sweetheart neckline with off-shoulder straps. She put on her strappy nude heels, picked up her purse and walked out of the bedroom, her heels loud against the wood planks of the staircase.

Dean was dressed in a navy-blue half-sleeve, button-up shirt, blue jeans and his boots and sitting in the living area, waiting on Y/N. He looked up when he heard her shoes against the wooden floors, smiling when he saw her. He got up from the armchair and met her halfway, stopping in front of her to cup her face in his hands. He leaned in, kissing her softly before he pulled away, grinning at her.

“You look amazing,” he told her, his smile beaming.

She felt her cheeks heat up as she leaned against him, wrapping her arms around his neck. “You clean up pretty well, too, handsome.”

“Ready?” he asked, moving back and instantly taking her hand in his.

“Ready,” she confirmed, smiling.

They left the house and locked up, Dean walking to the car and opening the door for Y/N. She pecked his lips before getting in, watching as he closed her door and then walked over to the driver’s side. He got in and smiled at her, immediately starting the car and backing out of the driveway, heading in the direction of the restaurant. Dean parked down the street once they arrived, taking Y/N’s hand as they walked down. Having made a reservation already, they were led to their table quickly, in the back outdoor area, sitting across from each other. There were fairy lights above them, wrapped around the beams and a candle at each table, bathing the area in a warm glow. Y/N beamed as she watched Dean taking everything in, a soft, peaceful smile on his face. She was so glad he was getting this break from work, knowing he deserved a little time off after working so hard.

The waitress came around and took their drink orders, coming back quickly with Dean’s beer and Y/N’s Negroni. She leaned forward on the table, taking Dean’s hand in hers and clasping it, tightly. There was a peaceful hum of patrons around them, but she didn’t see anything past the love of her life in front of her.

“You okay, sweetheart?” he asked, softly.

She nodded, looking down at their joined hands. “I am. I don’t think I’ve ever been more okay in my life.”

He grinned, unable to stop his heart from skipping a beat when he heard what she said. He felt exactly the same way.

“I guess Sammy didn’t have such a bad idea about us coming here, huh?” he asked, chuckling softly.

“Definitely not,” she replied, shaking her head as she sipped her cocktail. “I’m so glad we could do this.”

“Me too,” he agreed, bringing her hand to his lips and placing a soft kiss on her knuckles.

After their drinks, they ordered dinner. As they ate, Y/N looked around to see that a live band had started, smiling as they played a few familiar tunes, causing people at other tables to sing along. As the waitress cleared their plates, Dean looked over at Y/N and smiled, seeing her lost in the music as she swayed to it.

“Ready to go?” he asked. He smiled when she turned around and faced him, a content expression on her face. “Maybe we can take a walk along the pier?”

“Yeah,” she said, softly as she nodded. She picked up her purse and followed him out once they returned his card, linking her hand with his as they walked down to the pier.

The weather was perfect, a pleasant breeze dancing around them, the salty sea air mixing through it. They walked along the pier, hand in hand, in a slow and peaceful pace, the waves washing up onto the shore along with the music coming from the restaurant the only sounds that they could hear. Dean turned to face Y/N, as his hand moved around her hip and brought her close to him, taking her hand in his as her other one curved over his shoulder. They swayed back and forth slowly, basking in the serenity around them.

“Kinda wanted it to be just us when we did this,” he told her, looking down into her eyes.

“Good call,” she stated, leaning up and kissing him, softly. “This is much better.”

“Can I… Can I ask you something?” he wondered, clearing his throat nervously.

She nodded, smiling up at him. “Of course.”

“I know… I know we put getting married and having kids on the table real early, but…” he started, but took a deep breath as he gathered his thoughts to speak coherently. “You still want all those things, right?”

She was slightly taken aback, but a reassuring smile graced her face. “Dean… I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

He breathed out, relieved as he nodded. “I know that, I do. I just-”

Y/N leaned up, pushing herself up onto her tiptoes despite wearing heels, and kissed him, stopping whatever negative thought he was about to have. She kissed him sensually, putting everything she felt for him into it, before she pulled away and looked into his eyes.

“When it comes to what I want for us… there’s nothing for you to worry about, Dean,” she said, as she moved in closer, resting her head against his chest as they swayed to the music. “I love you and I know we’re going to spend our lives together, forever.”

“I love you,” he whispered, leaning his cheek against her head.

Y/N’s hand left his and moved up around his neck, the other sliding up from his shoulder to lock around him, as she pushed herself up and kissed him, a little harder than before. Dean’s hands wrapped around her waist, pulling her up as he held her close, her feet dangling above the ground. Suddenly desperate for each other, she tugged at the collar of shirt as their lips moved against each other’s, unable to pull away. She nipped at his bottom lip as her hands moved into his short hair, bringing him closer to her.

Dean pulled away, however, breathing heavily as he smirked at her. “Let’s get outta here.”

Dean put Y/N down, their hands immediately linking as they rushed down the pier, her heels loud against the wooden planks as they hurried back to the car. Dean drove at the required speed, getting annoyed as he wanted nothing more than to hightail it back to the house. It didn’t help that Y/N had slid over on the bench seat, kissing and nipping at his neck, distracting him.

“Sweetheart, you gotta stop or we won’t make it back,” he said, a choked laugh leaving his mouth as she sucked at his pulse point.

“Fine.” She sighed, annoyed that she had stop as she moved away from him, sliding back against the passenger side of the car. She had been more than ready for him all day, their day out at the beach only making her desire for him stronger.

They made it back to the house a few short moments later and hurried to the entrance. Y/N struggled to open the door as Dean wrapped his arms around her waist, his turn to pay attention to the soft skin of her neck with his lips. She turned the lock and it finally clicked, swinging the door open as they staggered in. Y/N turned to Dean and wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him deeply. He kicked the door closed, both of them stumbling further into the house.

“Dean,” she moaned, her lips brushing against his. “I need you.”

“Fuck, I need you too, sweetheart,” he groaned, in between kisses. “Been teasing me all day, especially in that bikini…”

He picked her up, her legs automatically wrapping around his waist as he held her tight. She bit her lip as she looked into his eyes, moving in to kiss him again, their mouths rough and sensual against each other. She felt the bulge of his jeans against her, knowing he was hard already. He walked them towards the staircase, relying on instinct to get up to the bedroom, considering he couldn’t see anything past Y/N and her lips against his. He made it up to the room without tripping, setting her down as his hands moved to the zip on the side of her dress. She smiled up at him as she made quick work of unbuttoning his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders. She shimmied out of the dress once he pulled the zipper down, letting it fall and pool around her feet, leaving her in a pastel pink strapless bra and matching lace panties.

“So beautiful,” he whispered, as he leaned in and kissed her again, a little softer this time. However, knowing how much he wanted her after a day where the tension was building up constantly, he deepened the kiss.

Y/N walked backwards as she undid his belt and unzipped his jeans, blindly, the action second nature to her after having done it so many times. Dean placed his hands on her waist and pushed her onto the bed, only rough enough for a small moan to leave her as she looked up at him. He bent down and took off his boots, ridding himself of his jeans and boxers at the same time. His hard cock sprung free from the confines of his boxers, causing her to bite her lip at the sight. No matter how many times she had seen him naked, it still stunned her that she got to have him.

She sat up on the bed, moving to sit on the edge and closer to Dean. She looked up at him with that smile of hers he loved, that mischievous one that always let him know what kind of mood she was in and took hold of his cock. Dropping some of her saliva onto his shaft, her hand wrapped around and pumped up and down, slowly at first but started to build up. She leaned forward, her mouth sucking at the tip of cock, licking away the pre-cum. She sunk her mouth lower, taking him in inch by inch, until he hit the back of her throat. Dean groaned as she began to bob her head, his hands cupping her face as he looked down her. She looked up at him as she moved back and forth, her mouth gliding over his cock, her hand wrapped around the base in a light grip.

“Fuck, you’re too good at that, sweetheart,” he groaned out, his thumb stroking her hollowed cheek.

Pulling back, she licked at the tip of cock, her tongue circling it. She grinned as her hand stroked him and she leaned forward, kissing his hip bone. “You love seeing your cock in my mouth, don’t you?”

He growled as he cupped her face and leaned down, kissing her roughly. “Fuck yeah, love it so much,” he muttered against her lips.

“You taste so good, Dean,” she sighed, pecking his lips.

He hummed as he kissed her again, his hands moving to her shoulders as he lightly pushed her, her back hitting the bed. “So do you, gorgeous.”

Moving over her, he leaned down to kiss along her neck, leaving soft nips at her skin. He drifted down, his lips leaving a trail of kisses down her chest, nipping at her covered breasts, down her stomach and stopping at her covered mound. He kissed her inner thigh, his fingers rubbing over her panties, feeling how wet she already was.

“Did sucking my cock get you this wet, baby?” he asked, chuckling.

She looked down the length of her body, their eyes meeting as she nodded.

He grinned as his fingers slipped into the edge of her panties, pulling them down and over her legs, tossing them over his shoulder.

“So beautiful,” he whispered, as he leaned down and planted a soft kiss to her sex. A low moan left her mouth, her hands gripping the covers beneath her as her eyes fluttered closed in anticipation of what was about to happen. The things he could do with his mouth still amazed her.

With his tongue, he licked a long stripe from her entrance to her clit, lightly circling the nub. Pressing his mouth over it, his tongue continued to move around the bundle of nerves, causing a moan to fall from her lips.

“Fuck,” she sighed, as she looked down at him. She threw her head back when he drifted down, his tongue licking along the length of her folds before it moved down her entrance. He alternated between sucking at her clit and licking her folds, bringing his fingers to her wet canal and inserting them, thrusting them in and out in a slow rhythm, but picking up the pace as her moans became louder.

“You taste so fucking incredible, Y/N,” he groaned between his ministrations, looking up at her.

“Feels so good,” she moaned loudly, gripping his hair tightly in her hands, bringing him in closer. “Oh god, Dean… fuck, I-I love what you do to me.”

He grinned as his fingers moved steadily within her, ready to bring her to the edge. “Yeah? You love feeling my tongue on your clit, sweetheart?”

“Yeah,” she gasped, as her hands continued to comb through his short hair.

“You love my fingers inside you?” he asked, emphasising the question by moving them a little faster, the pads of his fingers rubbing along her walls. He felt her clench around them, signalling she was close.

“Fuck, yeah,” she moaned, breathlessly. “I fucking love them so much.”

He smiled against her sex, kissing her skin as he looked up at her. “You’re close, aren’t you, Y/N?”

“Yeah, so close.” She nodded, frantically, ready to let go. “Make me cum, Dean.”

“You wanna cum on tongue, don’t you?” He smirked, already knowing that’s what she would want.

“Yeah, wanna cum on your tongue,” she whimpered.

Dean leaned in, sucking the nub into his mouth, his fingers picking up the pace. He thrust in and out of her, feeling her grip around him as he moved them within her. He felt her getting wetter, knowing she was close. He moved his mouth down, her moans rising in volume as his fingers continued. The coil in her stomach tightened more and more, bringing her closer to her release.

“Dean, oh my god! Fuck!” she shrieked, as the coil snapped. She moaned through her release, wetting Dean’s fingers and his mouth, his tongue lapping up her juices and continuing to lazily thrust his fingers as she came down from her high.

When he was satisfied that he taken everything she gave him, Dean leaned up and hovered over her, leaning down to kiss Y/N. She moaned at the taste of herself on his tongue, wrapping her arms around his neck and bringing him closer. She pushed her body into him and turned, rolling him onto his back while he was distracted by her lips. Pulling away, she sat up and looked into his eyes. He smiled as he looked up at her, his hands sliding over the smooth skin of her legs.

She planted her hands on his chest, shifting back until she felt his cock against her heat. Reaching down with her right hand, she took a hold of his cock as she lifted herself up, lining it up to her entrance. She sighed, letting out a shaky breath as she sank down, his length completely sheathed by her walls. Dean groaned as he felt her heat around his cock, his hands moving up to her hips and holding onto her. She began to rock back and forth, her hips thrusting down as he brought his up to meet hers, in a slow and sensual pace. She ran her fingers along his chest, moaning softly.

“How do I feel, Dean?” she asked, as she looked down at him. She grinded her hips down, feeling his cock deep within her.

“Amazing,” he replied, as he smiled up at her. He let her control the rhythm, meeting her hips as he thrusted up into her.

She leaned down, bringing her face closer to his. “You love feeling me wrapped around your cock, don’t you?” she asked, her voice low and husky.

“Fucking love it, sweetheart,” he growled, gripping her hips tighter in his hands.

“Love feeling you inside me, Dean,” she whispered against his lips, kissing him softly. “Love feeling your big cock inside my tight, wet pussy.”

“Fuck, Y/N,” he groaned, looking into her eyes. Holding her close, he sat up, his chest pressing against her covered breasts. His hands moved up her back, unclasping her bra and pulling it away from her body. He leaned in, kissing the soft flesh of her breasts, leaving soft bites along her skin. Her hands combed into his hair, bringing him closer into her. She moaned as she felt him take her left nipple into his mouth, licking over the nub, stiff from the air in the room.

“I love you so much, Dean,” she whispered into his ear, her fingertips lightly scraping through his hair. “I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone.”

Releasing her nipple with slight pop, he looked up into her eyes, as she continued rock her hips down on his.

“You don’t ever have to worry about how I feel,” she reassured him, reiterating what she told him at the pier. “I’m yours. Forever.”

She leaned down, kissing him passionately as she gripped the hair at the nape of his neck. His hands moved up her back as he pulled her in, not wanting to let go of her. He was completely floored by the love he saw in her eyes. He knew he shouldn’t be; he knew she loved him, but somehow it still shocked him that anyone could love him as much as she did. Yet again, he thought about grateful he was for her.

“I love you so fucking much, Y/N,” he whispered back, his breath brushing against her lips.

She moaned, feeling the pressure in her belly building up again, as she continued to meet his thrusts.

“Dean,” she moaned against his lips, looking into his eyes. Her hips picked up pace, chasing her release. “I’m so close.”

“Me too, sweetheart,” he muttered, as he held her tighter.

The familiar feeling rose in her stomach, telling her she was closer as their hips continued to smack into each other, their thrusts faster than before.

“Cum with me,” she whimpered, her eyes not looking away from his, not even for a second. “Dean, please… cum with me.”

“Oh fuck, Y/N,” he groaned. His hands flew down to her hips, gripping tight as he felt his cock pulse inside her, her walls clenching around him. “Fuck, let go for me, sweetheart. Fucking cum on my cock.”

For a second time that night, the band snapped, a string of moans erupting from her lips as she threw her head back, her hands tight in his hair. He grunted as he dropped his head onto her shoulder. He felt his cock throb, a strangled moan leaving his mouth as spurts of cum bathed her walls, mixing with her climax.

They breathed heavily as they came down from their high, feeling only the frantic heartbeats in their chests. As they started to come down, the rush of the waves on the beach reached their ears from the open door to the balcony. Dean lifted his head from Y/N’s shoulder, his hands coming up to cup her face, bringing her close to him. He kissed her, lovingly as he held her tight. He didn’t want to let go of her. Hearing her words as they made love made his heart soar. He had never felt that way before her. Y/N picked up on his quietness, pulling away to look into his eyes.

“You okay?” she asked, smiling softly.

Dean smiled in return, nodding slowly. “Never been better, gorgeous.”

Y/N squealed and laughed as Dean turned them over, throwing her down on the bed. They continued their passionate exchange into the early hours, finally falling asleep to the moon shining into the room and the soothing sounds of the ocean.

The next two weeks flew by, and before they knew it, it was time for Dean and Y/N to leave the beach house behind and return to their normal lives in Lawrence. Dean packed up the Impala, a small frown on his face as he did so. He didn’t want to leave, having had such an amazing time there with his girlfriend. They had so much fun together, swimming in the ocean during the day, walks on the beach at night, going out for dinner or cooking at the house, and absolutely ravishing each other after all of it. This trip had not only been relaxing, but a great eye-opener for him. He already knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life with Y/N but hearing it from her only solidified the decision he had already made.

He was going to ask Y/N to marry him.

It may have seemed too early in their relationship to think that way, but if he could’ve married her back at Christmas, one kiss into their relationship and all, he would’ve done it in a heartbeat. As he closed the trunk and leaned against the car to wait for Y/N, he started thinking about how to go about things. He knew he had to talk to his mom about her ring, hoping that it would be okay with her to give it to Y/N.

He lifted his head as he heard the front door to the house shut. He smiled as he saw Y/N walking down the path, her long, printed summer dress flowing in the breeze as she came towards him. She smiled softly as she got closer to him, an eyebrow lifted as she saw his expression.

“What?” she asked, laughing slightly.

He shook his head, not wanting her to clue into anything he was thinking just yet. “Nothing. Just… thank you.”

“For what?” She stood in front of him, placing her hands on his shoulders as she looked at him.

“For coming with me on this trip, for dealing with me… for just being amazing,” he told her, placing his hands on her hips.

“You’re pretty easy to deal with, Dean Winchester,” she said, softly as she leaned up, kissing him.

“You say that now,” he said, chuckling.

“I’ll say it always,” she countered, kissing him again quickly, before she moved away to the passenger side of the car.

As they pulled away from the house and made their way onto the highway, Dean smirked as he looked out at the road ahead of him. He glanced at Y/N, smiling as he saw her texting, no doubt telling Sam they had left and would be back home in a day. As he drove, he couldn’t help but think about everything that had changed in his life, and how much more it would continue to do so. He couldn’t help but think about how happy he was, how much more confident he was in himself, and how much better his life had become.

For all of that and so much more, he knew he had the beautiful woman sitting beside him to thank.

-x-

If you’re crossed out, I can’t tag you :(

Tags: @deanwanddamons @winchest09 @downanddirtydean @jensengirl83 @wonder-cole @that-one-gay-girl @flamencodiva @ellewritesfix05 @roonyxx @akshi8278 @hobby27 @michellethetvaddict @spngirl05 @kyjey @halesandy @440mxs-wife @stoneyggirl @deanswaywardgirl @redbarn1995 @marianita195 @babypink224221 @deans-baby-momma @parinarain @thoughts-and-funnies @mandalou29 @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @superaveng @supernatural-love14 @vicmc624 @prettyboyswow @lunarmoon8 @supernatural-bellawinchester​

#Life's Lessons Saga #Life's Lessons Time Stamps #Dean x Female!Reader #Dean x Female!Reader Series #Dean x Female!Reader Fanfiction #Female!Reader Insert #Mechanic!Dean #Teacher!Reader #Dean x Reader Fanfiction #Dean Winchester Smut #Dean Winchester Series #Dean Winchester Fanfiction #Dean Winchester Fanfic #Supernatural Fanfiction

[biggest-stupidhead]

Bad Timing (Levi x reader) Part 10

Summary: How do you tell your friends that you’re falling for your big brother’s best friend? 

Word Count: 4.9 K 

__

The loud buzzing of the tattoo gun was beginning to annoy Levi. The little pricks less annoying than the drone of the machine. He winced as the needle skimmed over a sensitive bit of skin.

"Try not to flinch." Farlan scolded as he readjusted his grip.

"Tch, sorry." Levi apologized through gritted teeth. Farlan reached for a wipe to clean off the excess ink, revealing the nearly finished piece. Like his other tattoos, this one was no different, the design was drawn out in thin delicate lines of ink. He had chosen to get this one on his tricep. Farlan spun his chair around to show Levi the design in the mirror, a flower, more specifically a lily of the valley. More specific yet, the flower for the month of May, the month his mother was born.

He nodded in appreciation a she admired the thin stem that led up to delicate bell shaped petals. The stems faded into a two leaves at the base of the design, they were all that needed to be filled in before the piece was complete.

"It looks good." Levi mused as he stared at the aggravated skin, the black lines were outlined with red angry skin.

"Thanks, I must admit I'm a bit rusty." Farlan chuckled as he leaned in with another wipe to clean the tattoo.

"Could've fooled me." Levi muttered as he turned in his chair to give Farlan better access.

"Let me finish this up and then we can go grab some lunch." Farlan gave the tattoo one last wipe down before he wrapped it in sandiderm. Once he was pleased with his work he tugged off the gloves and tossed them into the trash.

"Sounds good." Levi grunted as he stood up from the chair. Farlan had picked up tattooing as a side hustle, not that he booked many clients. It was more of a hobby for him, but he was rather good at it. As Farlan cleaned up the equipment and packed it back into his bag Levi went into the bathroom to wash up before they left for lunch. Isabel was out with friends, she hadn't been particularly interested in visiting the University with Levi and Farlan.

____

Levi trailed a few paces behind Farlan as they wondered through the sprawling campus. The campus had a dark academic vibe to it, with all the gothic architecture and the snowy lawns. Levi's trip was coming to a close, and he was glad that he had managed to squeeze in the visit. He spoke to an advisor, who was very enthusiastic about him applying. He figured that him coming from a single parent home, being an orphan with dual citizenship and good grades probably looked good for their statistics. So Levi and Farlan left, packets of information that they would need to apply. He decided that he should give Erwin a call, since he would be coming back home on the 26th, he originally intended on coming back after the new year but Hange had convinced him to come back early. Of course it was intended to be a surprise for Erwin and (Y/n), he felt bad for leaving Farlan and Isabel early but he figured that he could make up for the lost time when he got accepted into the University. They would have him all to themselves for four years if everything went according to plan.

"This place looks as good as any." Farlan paused in front of a small pub not too far from campus. Levi shrugged and kicked a chunk of ice out of his way. Farlan held the door open for him as they ducked into the dimly lit bar. The two settled into the barstools facing an impressive stock of alcohol, since it was about three in the afternoon the bar was basically empty save for a scraggly old dude that was mumbling to himself in a booth.

"Come here often?" Levi huffed as he inspected the sticky bar top. Farlan chuckled and waved for the bar tender.

"No actually, but I've heard that it's popular with the uni students." Faralan explained as he waited for the bar tender to finish counting the money in his hands.

"Two gin and tonics please." Farlan asked politely, the bar tender nodded and began to make the drinks.

"So you leave in what five days?" Farlan asked as he grabbed his drink and took a long swig.

"Yeah, sorry it was kind of last minute." Levi apologized, Farlan waved him off dismissively.

"Wait what did you get Isabel for Christmas this year?" Farlan asked as he slammed his already drained glass onto the counter.

"I bought her the DVD set for that one show she likes." Levi answered as he nursed his gin and tonic.

"Ah no way! That's a good one! The veterinary show right?" Farlan gushed, clearly impressed with Levi's choice of gift.

"Yeah that's the one." Levi nodded, a small smirk spreading across his lips.

"She'll love that. I got her some new jeans and a stuffed animal." Farlan shrugged, as he motioned for another drink.

"Not the shittiest choice." Levi mumbled as he brought his glass to his lips.

"Thank you Levi." Farlan held his glass up for a toast, and Levi indulged him, gently tapping his glass against Farlan's. Levi knocked back the rest of his drink before pulling out his phone to check his messages.

"What time should I pick you up from the airport?" Levi pursed his lips in thought before responding to Hange's text.

"Six in the morning."  he typed his response quickly and sent it. He had already planned on arriving early to give himself plenty of time to prepare himself for the annual post Christmas party that your family hosted.

"See you then, don't have too much fun in France!" Hange's reply was instantaneous,  Levi hated to admit it but he missed four-eyes and bushy brows. Hell he even missed Erwin's bratty sister.

_____

You draped your arm over your eyes in a feeble attempt to block out the blinding light that was flooding your living room. Although the snow was pretty, it sure was a bitch when the sun hit it, causing the light to reflect sharply in through the large windows in your living room. It was finally Christmas break, and you were enjoying it to it's fullest, basking in your sweats on the couch. Your mom had just gotten back from grocery shopping and was beginning to set out ingredients for the baking that she had planned to do for the rest of the afternoon. Erwin and Hange had gone ice skating with Mike and Nanaba, and planned to all meet up back at your house to assist your mom with the seasonal baking. Your phone chimed on the coffee table and you stretched to check it.

"Coffee and chill? 🥺" You rolled your eyes at Jean's message. He had been trying to contact you relentlessly for the past week. You had evaded him, not quite ready to confront him about his wrong doings. You ignored his text and instead favored to ask Mikasa if she wanted to come over to bake.

"hey I know it's been a while, but want to come over to bake cookies with me today? You could bring Armin and Eren if you want!" You sighed and dropped your phone back down onto the table with a sigh. You were pleasantly surprised by how quickly she responded.

"What time?"

"an hour?"

"See you then :)"  You smiled at the screen as you read her response. You always thought it was cute how she preferred to use characters instead of emojis when she texted. You decided that a shower would be a good idea since so many people were coming over now, so you hustled up stairs. You were thankful that Hange and Erwin weren't home because they had made a habit of interrupting your showers. Whether it was Hange trying to join you in the shower to "save water" or Erwin coming in to take a massive dump while you were in the shower. So you fully took advantage of your uninterrupted shower time while you could. You took your time, washing your hair and the rest of your body and enjoying the hot water. By the time you were finished the bathroom was cloudy with steam from the hot shower. You wrapped yourself in towel and scurried to your room to change. You pulled on a pair of leggings and a cropped fitted turtleneck. You then proceeded to tug on a faded crew neck to complete the look. You loped down the stairs, but paused about half way down. The sound of shoes being toed off and a coat being hung up made you rethink your decision.

"Oh Kenny! I'm so glad you made it!" Your mom gushed and you bristled. It wasn't that you didn't like Kenny, it was just that you weren't expecting him. It seemed that your house needed to keep an Ackerman on hand at all times because as soon as Levi left Mikasa and Kenny began coming around more frequently. Your mom invited Kenny over for coffee on Sunday mornings and you invited Mikasa over for sleepovers and craft nights.

"Hey sorry I'm late, I brought booze though." Kenny's rough voice felt foreign to your ears. Despite his sudden presence at your house he still felt like a stranger to you. Of course you could only blame yourself here, you tried your best to avoid him and his questions, not sure how you felt about the gruff man. He seemed nice enough but you weren't quick to trust him, Erwin certainly wasn't either.

"Ah (Y/n)! Perfect timing! Come down stairs and say hello." your mom called out, you winced but obeyed, descending the last few steps.

"Hey there kiddo, how's it hangin'?" Kenny drawled as you slunk into the kitchen sheepishly.

"Hey Kenny, I'm good how are you?" You asked politely, aiming to please your mother more than Kenny. The man smiled triumphantly and leaned further back into his seat.

"I'm fantastic." he stated with a smug smirk plastered on his lips.

"Mom, I invited Mikasa, Amrin, and Eren over is that alright?" you asked, dismissing Kenny.

"Yeah of course baby, the more the merrier!" she cooed as she continued to set up the mixer and prop up the cook book.

"So my little niece will be joining us tonight?" Kenny affirmed as he stood to help your mother untangle to cord of the mixer.

"Yeah." you trailed off, not sure if this was good or bad. Although the pair had both been frequenting your house recently, they hadn't run into one another yet. You knew that Levi had a bad relationship with his uncle, so you could only assume that Mikasa's relationship was also just as rocky.

"haven't seen that brat since she was in diapers." Kenny mused as he flipped through the cook book.

"really? Well she sure has grown. Such a lovely young woman." Your mother sighed dreamily as she thought about Mikasa.

"Glad to hear it.." Kenny mumbled as he paused on a gingerbread recipe. Before you could decode the meaning behind his bland tone, the door flew open and Hange sauntered in. Today she was dressed for the weather in a downy parka and leggings with a thick crewneck. Erwin followed close behind, dressed in joggers and a t-shirt, he tended to get hot easily. Mike however was different. Mike was dressed for Arctic temperatures with a thick quarter zip underneath his north face and a pair of denim jeans on his legs. Nanaba wore a quarter zip as well but leggings instead of jeans. You rushed to help them shove their coats into the cramped closet and put snowy shoes over vents to melt off the ice. Soon they were all crowding into the kitchen, Mike was quick to help your mom set out ingredients while Erwin went to light the fireplace. Hange was rushing up the stairs and Nanaba was skimming through the cook book.

Ah yes such a familiar scene. You immediately felt better in the presence of the upperclassmen, Kenny seemed to melt into the background as he watched you all fall into a familiar rhythm. Erwin returned to the kitchen, dusting his hands off as he entered.

"Hey." He greeted you with a slight nod before he stooped to pull a baking sheet out of the cabinets.

"How was ice skating?" you asked as you leaned against the counter near Erwin.

"Cold, we saw Petra and Oluo there." Erwin mused as he sat the sheet down with a clatter.

"Really? Are they a thing?" you quizzed, your interest piqued.

"Couldn't say, wouldn't surprise me though." Erwin shrugged, his large frame pressed against the counter opposite to allow Nanaba to squeeze through.

"I don't know Erwin, last time I spoke to her she seemed pretty fixed on Levi." Nanaba interjected as she stooped to pull out a bowl.

"I thought she was over him. He left her hanging at my house a few months back remember?" Mike reminded Nanaba who pursed her lips in thought.

"Oh yeah I remember that...she was upset." Nanaba agreed as she sat the bowl in front of you on the counter.

"Then why was she with Oluo huh riddle me that." Erwin challenged, a sly smirk on his lips.

"Oh they've always been close, doesn't mean she likes him or anything." Nanaba scoffed.

"Well he sure likes her, saw him checking out her ass." Mike chuckled, your mom gasped and hit him upside the head.

"That's enough you guys! (Y/n), Kenny mix cut this butter up." Your mom ordered, grabbing you by the bicep to drag you over to Kenny at the island. She dropped a huge brick of butter in front of the two of you along with two butter knives.

"Oh I can do it on my own mom." you insisted with wide eyes.

"Nonsense, show Kenny how it's done." she slapped you on the back and turned to help Mike crack eggs into the wet ingredients bowl. You and Kenny shared an uneasy glance, you took the knife and sliced the chunk of butter in half. You slid half to Kenny and took the other half for yourself. You began to slice the butter into thin chunks and drop them into a bowl. Kenny watched with raised brows, the knife hanging loosely in his hand. You spared him a glance and an amused huff.

"Just slice it into chunks and drop them in this bowl." you instructed, pushing the bowl closer to him. He chuckled and then began to tediously cut the butter into uneven chunks. You nodded in approval as he began to gain confidence.

"Where does this go once it's done?" Kenny asked as he finished chopping the butter.

"In the mixer." You directed, as you wiped your hands on a damp rag. The doorbell chimed and you weaved through the kitchen to answer it. You were greeted by the familiar faces of Mikasa, Armin, and Eren. The trio piled into the house and kicked off their shoes and shrugged off jackets.

"Perfect timing guys, we just started making cookies." You said as you helped Armin out of his coat.

"Great! We brought our piping tips." Eren said, holding up a plastic bag filled with piping equipment.

"Oh yeah I forgot that you're a natural at cookie decorating Mikasa!" you complimented as you guided them into the kitchen. You placed the bag next to Kenny who was staring at Mikasa with slightly widened eyes, she returned his gaze with a surprised expression.

"Hey hothead!" Hange called out to Eren in a sing song voice as she descended the stairs.

"O-Oh Hange!" Eren cringed at her volume as she swang into the kitchen.

"Hange!" Armin cried out excitedly, you'd known that Armin looked up to the brunette due to her intelligence.

"Aw hello coconut head." she cooed as she ruffled Armin's blonde mop of hair.

"And baby Ackerman!" Hange giggles, turning her attention to Mikasa who was scowling at the brunette.

"So nice to see you all!" Hange gushed as she pulled on an apron.

"That was an awful long shit. You constipated or something?" Mike scoffed as he whisked the eggs.

"Ha ha very funny Mike." Hange scoffed as she sidled up next to Erwin who was crushing almonds loudly with a rolling pin.

"I'm just trying to pick up the slack. Someone needs to make Levi's crass jokes for him." Mike sighed, setting the whisk aside.

"Ah I'm sure he will appreciate the sentiment." Erwin approved with a chuckle and another jaw-rattling smash of the rolling pin.

"Kids why don't you start rolling this dough out and cut them with these." Your mother instructed as she thrust the large mixing bowl into your hands and pointing over to Kenny. You led Mikasa, Armin, and Eren over to the open counter space. Mikasa was side eyeing Kenny as she sprinkled some flour out.

"I want to make a penis." Eren remarked, a stupid look on his face as he looked to Armin for approval.

"That's inappropriate Eren." Armin chided as he reached for the dough in the bowl. He dropped the heavy ball of dough with a thump and a whoosh of flour.

"Hah! I'd like to see it!" Kenny chortled as he brushed some flour off his shirt.

"See he gets me!" Eren chuckled as Armin began to roll out the dough. Mikasa and you both rolled your eyes at the boys. Nanaba breezed by and brushed her hand across both yours and Mikasa's shoulders as she passed.

"You girls want pizza?" She asked with an angelic smile as she stopped by the landline.

"Yes please!" Eren answered before either of you could.

"Shut up Eren!" You snapped before turning to look at Nanaba who was holding the phone up to her ear already.

"Yes please Nanaba, can you put pineapple on one of them?" you asked with a sweet smile.

"Ew pineapple on pizza are you insane?!" Hange screeched from across the kitchen.

"Now now, if you order one with pineapple I'll eat it." Kenny agreed as he pressed a cookie cutter deep into the dough.

"Ugh, you guys are disgusting." Mike shook his head in disappointment as he poured the liquid ingredients into the dry ones for the next batch of cookies.

"Alright everyone be quiet while I order this." Nanaba ordered as she pressed the phone between her ear so she could jot down the orders on a pad of paper. The volume in the kitchen fell from a roar to a soft murmur as Nanaba placed the order. Once Nanaba hung up the phone the bustle picked right back up. The cookie hustle only stopped once all the dough was in the oven and the pizza had arrived.

When it was all said and done you all settled in the living room to watch christmas movies and eat pizza. As the movie began to play you finally took some time to check your phone for the first time all afternoon. You were surprised to see at least twenty messages on instagram from a swagmasterfarlan. You clicked on the first message and your frown deepened.

"cutte assf."  

"Let me show you parish"

"I cantreat you right."

":)"

The seventeen other messages followed a similar pattern. You noticed that the last message that had been sent two hours ago. You glanced at the clock and frowned, it was already eight pm. You considered blocking the account but upon checking, you realized that it was Farlan's  side account. You'd seen drunk texts before and these were no different. You glanced up to see Kenny with his hat over his eyes as he snored on the arm chair. Your mom was already dozing off on the couch with her feet in Erwin's lap, Erwin had an arm around Hange who was babbling about special effects to no one in particular. Nanaba and Mike were in their own little world on the floor as they watched the movie. Eren and Armin were joking in hushed voices as Mikasa's head lolled against your shoulder. Yeah you could use some entertainment.

"I would love to see parish."  you smiled at your response as you sent it. Not two minutes later a new message appeared.

"Woh, I'm durnk as shit."  

"yes you are swagmaster ;)" you responded with a giggle.

"Let facetime before levi punches my face."  Farlan's words were becoming clearer so you figured that he must be sobering up to some degree.

"Alright."  as soon as the read receipts confirmed that he had gotten the message your phone buzzed as he called you. Mikasa grunted as you shifted to answer the call, you answered on the third ring, thankful for the darkness in the room which concealed your features for the most part.

"Heyyyyy kid!" Farlan drawled, you could tell he was in his apartment, the surroundings familiar due to the times you had facetimed Levi.

"Hey Farlan, nice to finally meet you. I've heard all kinds of things." You chuckled as he squinted at his screen.

"No kidding! Hey what time is it over there?" Farlan questioned as he brought his phone closer to his face, giving you a perfect view of his eyebrows.

"It's about 8:30 here, what time is it in perish?" You mocked his blunder from earlier and he gasped in offense.

"That's cold!" he moaned, playing along with your joke.

"Spell it right next time!" you snickered, you glanced up from your phone and met Hange's curious gaze, her head tilted to the left. When you returned your attention back to your phone you were surprised to see the camera was no longer on Farlan's face. Instead it was spinning, the sound of grunting and shuffling was deafening. You winced the struggle continues for a few moments before there was a thud and a deep groan.

"Get into bed now before I punch your lights out." Levi's voice was gravely and strained with exhaustion as he spoke. Hange's ears were still perked as she tried to figure out who you were on the phone with. Once she heard Levi's voice she stood up and skipped over to the sofa to sit next to you.

"I'm serious Farlan this isn't cute get the fuck in that bed or so help me-" the phone clattered down to the floor, and you could make out the sound of stumbling footsteps.

"What is going on?" Hange asked as she leaned on your free shoulder to see the screen. You shrugged and bit your lip as you tried to decipher what was going on.

"No Levi, I've got to talk to her, she's still on the phone!" Farlan grumbled, his voice sounded a bit far away.

"You can talk to her tomorrow just go lay down already." just by the tone of his voice you could guess that he was pinching the bridge of his nose the way he did when he was frustrated.

"nah I'll just go grab my phone and-"

"No." the sound of bed springs creaking and Farlan grunting hinted that he had been pushed onto a bed. After a few more moments of the bed creaking and incoherent mumbling, the sound of footsteps approached the phone and then finally the camera was turned back towards the ceiling as it was picked up. And then Levi's face filled the screen, his eyes widened in surprise, you snapped a screenshot of the moment much to his displeasure.

"What the fuck." he huffed as he took in both you and Hange's amused expressions.

"Hey Levi! How's it going?" Hange cooed as she angled your wrist to show more of her face.

"How-"

"He called me." You answered quickly as you angled the phone back onto your face.

"why?" Levi interrogated. You simply shrugged as you took in his face. You were relieved to see that he looked the same, maybe his eye bags were a bit darker, and his hair a tad longer. But otherwise, he was the same.

"What are you doing?" Levi continued to grill you, to answer his question you panned the camera around the room, sure to not linger on Kenny who was snoring in the chair across the room.

"Thrilling." he scoffed when you brought the camera back to your face.

"Yeah, we spent the day baking. What about you? Seems like you guys are busy." You began your own interrogation.

"Yeah, Farlan had one too many at the bar." Levi agreed as he dropped down into an arm chair with a heavy sigh.

"And you? Did you have anything to drink?" Hange asked with a sly smirk. Levi's brow creased at her suggestive tone.

"If you must know, no I did not drink.... a lot." he answered.

"Lucky, I wish I was drunk right now." you sighed wistfully.

"I never said I was drunk." Levi clarified.

"Any big plans for your birthday Levi?" You asked, quick to change the subject.

"No, just dinner and gifts." Levi replied with a shrug as he sank into the chair.

"That sounds nice." you smiled, Hange dropped her head to your shoulder, her chin digging into your shoulder as she did so. Levi shrugged and averted his gaze for a moment.

"Where's Isabel?" Hange asked as here eyes scanned the background, which was too dark to really reveal anything.

"In her room playing some stupid video game." Levi scoffed as he cocked his head in the direction which you assumed Isabel's room was.

"Fun." Hange mused as she closed her eyes.

"And you? What are your plans for Christmas?" Levi's question surprised you, but you still answered.

"Same as always, gifts in the morning, breakfast, hopefully be plastered by 2." you sighed, Levi scoffed at your answer but seemed satisfied.

"What about the 26th?" Levi asked carefully. you pursed your lips as you thought about your schedule.

"Hmm well I'm not sure, probably-"

"Oh I forgot to tell you, Annie is hosting a party and asked me if you'd come." Mikasa's sleepy voice startled you.

"Really? Huh that's weird. Are you going?" you asked, tilting your face down to speak to her.

"Yeah. We're smoking weed." Mikasa mumbled, her eyes still shut.

"Guess I'll go too." you shrugged. Meanwhile Hange and Levi shared a wide-eyed glance, this could throw off their plans. More specifically Hange's plans, even more specifically her plan to set you and Levi up.

"Weed?" Levi asked, clearing his throat after the word fell from his lips. You knew that he had smoked the stuff in the past, but recently he had stuck to his juul and the occasional dab pen.

"yeah, Annie has like 30 grams right now." Mikasa answered.

"I've never smoked weed before." you mused, excitement bubbling up in your chest at the thought of the chance for a new experience.

"Eh it's okay." Mikasa shrugged.

"Guess I'll just have to try it for myself." you teased, nudging her with your shoulder.

"Guess you will." Mikasa mumbled before falling silent once more.

"Well there you have it. I'm going to Annie's on the 26th." you smiled as you answered Levi's original question. With the 26th only three days away, it gave you something to look forward to.

"Fine. Do  what you want." Levi rolled his eyes and stood from his chair, his whole vibe seemed to change. You wondered if it had been something you'd said or if he was just growing bored.

"I've got to go. Farlan's phone is almost dead." Levi said as he walked through the apartment.

"Oh well it was nice-" before you could finish he had already hung up, or the phone had died.

"Classic Levi." Hange chuckled as she rose up, stretching her stiff muscles before returning to Erwin's side. You rolled your eyes and sat your phone down in defeat. You reached behind you for a throw blanket to cover you and Mikasa, you shuffled over a bit so you were snuggled between the arm of the couch and Mikasa, who had followed you. Using the arm as a pillow you lied down as much as you could with Mikasa still using your side as a pillow, she had stretched out as well to prop her feet up in Eren's lap. Eren was already passed out, his head leaning against Armin's shoulder, who was in a similar position to you. It was nice, you hadn't made much time for nights like these recently. Since you had spent most of your time with Jean you had neglected your friends, and you felt awful about it.

You had missed them deeply, in fact this had probably been the longest you'd gone without a weekend like this. Your family had been close to the Jeagers since you were babies. Your mom and Dr. Jeager both worked at the same hospital and often worked together, they had only grown closer when your father died of cancer when you were 9. Grisha and Carla had helped your mother our a lot the months following his death. Meaning you spent a lot of time with Eren and Mikasa, and by extension Armin. That same year was when they took in Mikasa since Kenny had been deemed "unfit" for a second child in his care. You assumed that the Jeagers would be coming over for Lunch like they always did on Christmas, as well as Armin and his grandfather. You felt your eyelids grow heavy as you thought about all the preparations that were needed for you to host this year, and before you knew it you had fallen asleep.

#levi attack on titan #Levi fanfiction #levi aot #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi ackerman x you #levi x reader #Levi x You #levi x reader insert #levi x y/n #shingeki no kyoujin levi #Erwin Smith #hange zoe #eren jeager #Mikasa Ackerman #armin arlert #Eren Mikasa Armin #connie springer #sasha braus #jean kirschtein x reader #jean kirstein #Marco Bott #kenny ackerman #farlan church #isabel magnolia #aot fandom #aot fanfiction #snk levi #levi snk #snk fanfiction

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

72 Hours In Montreal [Part I]

A/N: Many moons ago, the incomparably lovely @im-an-adult-ish​ pitched a Montreal concert fic idea (jokingly, I think), and quite a few of my followers fell in love with it. They were even kind enough to vote on which Queen member should be the love interest, and there was a clear winner: John! 

I couldn’t get the idea out of my head, and at last, here is the first of three chapters of this new mini-fic. I’m going to tag some of my past readers, but I WILL NOT TAG YOU AGAIN unless you ask me to. Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy. 💜

Series Summary: John Deacon is a rock star at a crossroads. Y/N is a world-weary employee at a Yankee Candle shop. They’ll only ever have three short days in Montreal together...or will they??

Chapter Warnings: Language, sexual content (not graphic). 

Word Count: 6.8k.

Other Chapters (And All My Writing) Available: HERE

Taglist: @queen-turtle-boiii​ @bramblesforbreakfast​ @culturefiendtrashqueen​ @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark​ @escabell​ @im-an-adult-ish​ @queenlover05​ @someforeigntragedy​ @imtheinvisiblequeen​ @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhyee​ @deacyblues​ @tensecondvacation​ @brianssixpence​ @some-major-ishues​ @haileymorelikestupid​ @youngpastafanmug​ @simonedk​ @rhapsodyrecs​ ​​​ @joemazzmatazz​​ @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhyee​​ @namelesslosers​​ @inthegardensofourminds​​ @sleepretreat​​ @hardyshoe​​​ @sevenseasofcats​​ @jennyggggrrr​​ @madeinheavxn​​ @whatgoeson-itslate​​​ @herewegoagainniall​​ @anotheronewritesthedust1​​ @pomjompish​​ @allauraleigh​​  @bluutac​​ @johndeaconshands​​ 

The obnoxious British men are still laughing. The one with the mustache, suspenders, and illogically tight red leather pants is standing on the tiptoes of his equally red Adidas shoes to paw candles off the top shelf so he can sniff them. The blond one has no less than eight jars balanced precariously in his wiry arms. Journey’s Don’t Stop Believing is billowing through the shop speakers.

“Oh my god, he’s gonna break something,” you moan in a whisper, covering your eyes but peeking through your fingers. Your apron is suddenly too tight around your waist; your cheeks are roaring with blood as you envision the inevitable confrontation: Sir, unfortunately you ruined some of our giant tacky overpriced candles and so now you have to pay for them. So sorry. Paper or plastic? We take Mastercard.

“Who?” Kevin asks. He’s holding a broom in one pudgy, pinkish hand and a dustpan in the other. He has surrendered.

“That one. Suspenders and moustache guy. Red shoes guy. Dorothy without Toto.”

Kevin cracks a smile. “That is frighteningly accurate. He is rather whimsical, isn’t he? Maybe he’ll click his heels and disappear back to London or wherever.”

“We aren’t in Kansas anymore,” you mutter in commiseration. Actually, to be perfectly literal, you’ve never been to Kansas in your life.

“Wait, I think I might have met that guy before somewhere.” Kevin squints with great concentration. “He looks oddly familiar…”

“Hm.” You check your eyeliner wings in your reflection in the cash register screen. From what you can tell, they’re every bit as tragically asymmetrical as you remembered. Spectacular.

“Staring won’t make it better,” Kevin notes, very unhelpfully.

“I know,” you reply, miserable, toying with your bangs so you can hide behind them.

“How does that even happen? The right one is practically a 90-degree angle. The left one looks like you drew it on with a Sharpie.”

You groan. “I’ll try to scrub them off during my break.”

“If you’re not too busy helping me sweep glass off the floor, sure,” Kevin says. “I told you, I took an electrical engineering class as an elective once. I could totally take a look at your bathroom.”

“I thought you said you failed that class.”

“No, I said I got a D in that class. Ds aren’t failing.”

“Well now you’ve convinced me.” You scrutinize your reflection again, frowning. You rent a rather dilapidated one-bedroom apartment above a bakery just a few blocks from the Yankee Candle shop. The apartment always smells like powdered sugar and baking bread, which you like. What you don’t like is everything else about it: the peeling paint, the low water pressure, the windows that you can’t wrestle open, the occasional mice, the shoddy electrical wiring. On any given day, there’s an approximately 27% chance that the bathroom light won’t turn on when you flip the switch. This morning you had been on the losing side of those odds, and with the only mirror in the apartment being the one mounted over the sink—and the overcast November skies outside offering painfully little natural light—you had haphazardly guesstimated your way through your makeup routine before dashing off to work. Your guesstimation skills, apparently, are not all that great.

“If he’s The Wizard of Oz...” Kevin points his broom handle from the snickering moustached man to the gangly, poodle-haired one who has been trying to decide between two candles—Christmas Cookie and Cinnamon Stick—for twelve uninterrupted minutes. He’s wearing a parka spotted with patches: a NASA emblem, a soaring rocket, a smiling green extraterrestrial face, Saturn and its rings. “That guy’s gotta be Star Wars.”

“Or Alien,” you suggest, clutching your chest and pretending to die melodramatically.

Kevin laughs. “2001: A Space Odyssey.”

“Close Encounters of The Third Kind.”

“What about that one?” Kevin nods to the guy who has large blue eyes and bleach-blond, fried tufts of hair sticking out in every direction and a grin that is simultaneously childish and foxlike. Under Pressure comes on the shop speakers, and the British men all start cheering and high-fiving each other, leaving their candles momentarily tucked under their arms or quivering precariously on the edges of wooden display tables. You are entirely mystified. “God, he’s gorgeous.”

“Bye Bye Birdie,” you decide. “Beautiful. Charming. Beloved by all. Perhaps a little dangerous. I can picture teenage girls sobbing themselves to sleep as he gallantly marches off to war.”

“You think he’s gay?” Kevin asks hopefully.

“I don’t think he’s dressed well enough for that.” The blond man is wearing a shapeless, polka-dotted sweater that has ‘NIVEA’ spelled across the front, for reasons that are difficult to fathom.

Kevin sighs, crestfallen. He suffered a nasty breakup with his boyfriend Patrick two weeks ago, and is enthusiastically on the hunt for a rebound to distract him. “You’re probably right. Okay, last but not least.” Kevin aims his broom handle at the fourth and final British stranger. “What shall we call him?”

You consider the man who has wandered away from the others. He’s wearing Levi’s, a black bomber jacket, aviator sunglasses, a mop of unwrangled auburn hair, thoughtful lines that break around the corners of his hidden eyes. He is browsing unhurriedly, perhaps even distractedly, through the fruit-scented candles. He picks up a jar of Macintosh Apple, sniffs a few times, then sets it back down precisely where he found it. He even spins the jar so it’s label-side-facing-outwards again. You warm to him immediately.  

“One of the James Bond movies?” Kevin offers. “He seems…enigmatic somehow. Esoteric. Yet still clearly leading man material.”

“Casablanca,” you say, not tearing your gaze from the stranger. “I can imagine him waving off some old flame on a foggy, night-draped airport runway, breaking hearts with sparse words of wisdom. Can’t you?”

“Oh, that’s exactly right!” Kevin sighs again, dreamily, yearningly. And whether he’s yearning for his ex-boyfriend Patrick or Bye Bye Birdie a.k.a. NIVEA-sweater man or passion or sex or love or maybe just the ineffable high that accompanies the beginnings of things, you couldn’t say.

You peer at your reflection in the cash register screen once again, feeling more self-conscious than ever. “Maybe if I—”

“Freddie!” Star Wars cries, and you whirl just in time to see The Wizard of Oz, whizzing around and giggling and preoccupied with teasing NIVEA-sweater man, stumble into the six-foot-tall tower of Christmas Tree-scented candles and send countless jars crashing to the tile floor.

“I knew it!” you unleash in a rush of misery and exasperation, the biting threat of tears in your eyes and the back of your throat. And of course, it isn’t just about the mess on the floor, it isn’t just about having to tell your manager and hoping to God he doesn’t fire you. It’s about your derelict apartment, it’s about your fucked up eyeliner, it’s about everything that’s happened in the past eighteen months; it’s about the never-ending feelings of helplessness and inertia and predestined ruin, it’s about not being able to get fifteen meters down the street before life throws up another red light, another jagged sinkhole gaping like ravenous jaws. And none of that is these ridiculous British men’s fault; yet still, in that moment the fury you feel towards them is overwhelming.

“Jesus christ,” Kevin mumbles, stepping out from behind the counter to survey the damage, his hands still clutching the broom and dustbin.

“You couldn’t just mosey around and ask which candles are on sale and maybe sniff one or two like a normal person?!” you explode. “You had to come in here acting like goddamn animals and destroy like a third of our inventory?!”

“I’m so sorry,” The Wizard of Oz sputters, looking at you and Kevin with wide, profusely apologetic dark eyes. Star Wars and NIVEA-sweater man are helping him to his feet, albeit with very spirited chidings. Kevin is grudgingly asking if he’s alright. Casablanca is already trying to sort through which candles are broken and putting those that survived aside. And when he casts furtive glances from behind his aviator sunglasses, they’re directed not at Kevin or The Wizard of Oz but at you.

“Freddie, bloody hell,” NIVEA-sweater man laments.

“I’ll pay for them all,” The Wizard of Oz tells you. “I’m so, so, so terribly sorry, you’re absolutely right to be cross with me, and I’ll pay for everything. Here, let me get my wallet…” He digs around in the pockets of his preposterously tight red leather pants.

“Uh…sir…” Kevin begins uncertainly, not wanting to break the bad news.

“It’s going to be hundreds of dollars,” you inform The Wizard of Oz. “Maybe over a thousand. You’re really going to pay that? Or are you just going to wait until we start sweeping up and then sprint out the front door the first chance you get?”

“Hey,” Kevin warns you quietly. He wants you to keep this job probably even more than you do. You are, by his own admission, far and away his favorite coworker.

“No, no, darling, please, let her scold me, I deserve it.” The Wizard of Oz at last locates his wallet. He sashays to the counter, brushing nuggets of glittering glass off his clothes, and counts out two thousand Canadian dollars in hundreds. “Will that do? You can keep the change as compensation for the inconvenience. And we’ll help clean up as well, has anyone got an extra broom?”

As you stare down at the money, shocked into speechlessness, three hulking men dressed in black come barreling into the shop.

“Lord in heaven, Freddie, what happened?!” one asks. He has a thick beard and an Irish accent and closely resembles a grizzly bear.

“I made a complete ass out of myself and am now trying to win the affections of this marvelous creature,” The Wizard of Oz replies, flourishing a hand towards you. “Is it working, dear?”

“Kind of,” you admit, still stunned.

“Oh my god.” The broom tumbles out of Kevin’s grasp and clatters on the floor. He points at The Wizard of Oz. “I know where I’ve seen you before. You…you…you’re Freddie Mercury, right?”

In reply, The Wizard of Oz only flashes an enormous, toothy, dazzling grin.

“Oh my god,” Kevin says again, a starry, awed smile rippling across his round face.

“Please don’t make his ego any bigger,” Star Wars pleads.

“And you’re Brian May!” Kevin replies. “And you’re…” He turns to NIVEA-sweater man, snapping his fingers, trying to remember. “Robbie…no, Ronnie…uh…Ricky…?”

“Roger Taylor.” But it comes out like ‘Rogah Taylah.’ NIVEA-sweater man extends a hand for Kevin to shake, not the least bit offended. “It’s a pleasure. Sorry about the candles.”

“No problem, sir!” Kevin squeaks as he takes Roger’s hand, beaming. The men in black—the band’s security, you’ve gathered—have descended upon the crime scene, confiscated Kevin’s broom and dustbin, and are rapidly clearing glass and chunks of candlewax from the floor and discarding the mess in a trash bin that usually collects only chewed gum and unwanted receipts.

“So I guess I probably shouldn’t have yelled at you,” you tell Freddie Mercury guiltily, all the venom in your voice evaporated. You’re no Queen superfan, true, but everyone knows the words to Bohemian Rhapsody and We Will Rock You and We Are The Champions. And Another One Bites The Dust. And Killer Queen. And Crazy Little Thing Called Love. And Somebody To Love. Your thoughts are suddenly a racing, indecipherable blur. Your knees are boneless. You’ve never met a celebrity before. Well, not unless you count professional hockey players, which you definitely don’t.

“No, you absolutely should have,” Freddie retorts. “I was dreadfully discourteous. I’m positively mortified about it. I should be punished severely. Have you got anything behind the counter to whip me with? A riding crop, perhaps?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Not that I know of. I’m sorry I called you an animal.”

“I’m sorry about the candles. There, now we’re even. Wait, not quite yet.” He calls over to Kevin: “Darling, how would you and your friend like front row seats at our show tonight?”

The squeal that bursts out of Kevin is not human.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Freddie Mercury says, very pleased.

“This is really too generous of you,” you protest, although your heart isn’t in it; Kevin might legitimately strangle you if you screw this up, and you’re finding that you want to see Queen in concert too. It’s something to interrupt the powerless, unrelenting monotony; it’s like something that might happen in a movie or a dream.

“Nonsense!” Freddie announces cheerfully. Star Wars and NIVEA-sweater man—or, rather, Brian and Roger—are chatting with the security guys and nodding along as the bearlike Irishman reviews the day’s itinerary.

You peer over at Casablanca. Now that the floor is mostly clear, he’s migrating towards you and Freddie. You glance apprehensively down at your reflection. “Goddammit,” you mutter, manipulating your bangs again, wishing you could disappear. “I meet a rock star for the first time ever and I look like this.”

“It’s not that bad,” Kevin says, obviously lying.

“I like it,” Freddie tells you, propping his elbows on the counter and resting his chin on his knuckles. “It’s very goth raccoon chic.”

“My bathroom light wouldn’t turn on this morning and I was late for work and I guesstimated and that was clearly a poor decision.” Poor decisions are my expertise, you think instinctively, and feel a tug of something you don’t quite have the words for. Shame, grief, disappointment, a raw sting like a flame beneath your palm, a dread like a child who’s lost their mother’s hand.  

“I’ve offered to take a look at the wiring!” Kevin exclaims. “I told you, a D is passing!”

“Kev, babe,” you reply. “I really, truly appreciate your enthusiasm, but you’ll probably just make it worse. And then my landlord will hate me and keep my security deposit and write me awful references and I’ll have to live in an endless string of ancient, hideous apartments until I die.”

“It’s an electrical problem?” Casablanca asks, pushing his aviator sunglasses up into his unruly hair. His unveiled eyes are a blueish grey—they remind you of one of the candles, maybe Beach Walk or Bahama Breeze—and very direct. He stares at you and you stare back, and at some point you realize that everyone is waiting for you to answer.

“Oh, uh, yeah, I guess so. Sometimes nothing happens when I flip the switch. That’s the extent of my handyman knowledge, unfortunately.”

Casablanca nods. “I could take a look, if you like.”

Not Beach Walk. Not Bahama Breeze. Warm Luxe Cashmere, maybe. “Now that really is too generous. I couldn’t possibly put a rock star to work on my terrible apartment.”

“John’s got a degree in electrical engineering, that’s right in his wheelhouse,” Brian counters.

“Yes,” Roger says, grinning, teasing in a way that has absolutely no malice in it. “He’s more of an engineer than a rock star anyway, isn’t he?”

“Seriously?” Casablanca—John, you mentally correct yourself—doesn’t seem much like an electrical engineer. But Roger’s right: he doesn’t really seem like a rock star, either. What John seems like is steady and abiding and perceptive, attentive, unflinching. He studies you like some people study paintings, like you once studied paintings; not in a passing-by-in-a-crowded-hallway type way but in a patient way, a methodical way, with the quiet that comes from knowing that vision in the frame is older than you will ever be and will still be hanging on that wall when you’re bones in a box somewhere.

Freddie lights a cigarette and puffs on it decadently. Smoking definitely isn’t allowed inside the Yankee Candle shop, but you aren’t about to snap at Freddie Mercury for the second time today. “Oh, let him tinker around in your flat, darling. It’ll make his day.”

“Is it far?” John asks you.

“No, really, Casa…uh, I mean, John, I appreciate the offer more than I could possibly express but I—”

“It’s just a few blocks north,” Kevin says, and tosses you a wily smile.

“How convenient!” Freddie trills. “When does your shift end, dear?”

“Not until 5:30.”

“She can take a long lunch break.” Another smile from Kevin. “Honestly, there’s not much to do around here now that the Great Candle Massacre of 1981 has been remediated.”

“Splendid!” Freddie says, radiant.

You shake your head, very slowly. “This is the weirdest day of my life.”

“Then you clearly haven’t lived enough,” Freddie quips.

“Fred!” Roger presses. “Are we going to the bookstore down the street or not? That was the whole deal, we suffer through your candles, you suffer through our books.”

“You didn’t seem to be suffering,” Brian says.

“Of course I’m suffering. That cashier over there almost murdered me,” Roger slings back.  

Freddie sighs and rolls his large, dark, expressive eyes. “Yes, darling, of course, don’t give yourself an aneurism. We’ll go to the bookstore, John can rendezvous with us later.” Now he turns to you. “We’ll send a car to your flat at 7 to pick you and Kevin up for the show tonight. Don’t let John leave without knowing your address. Wear something deliciously opulent. Lots of sparkle. Maybe furs.”

“I make eight dollars an hour,” you tell him.  

“Or you could just wear nothing.”

“Sparkle and furs it is.”

Freddie chuckles and turns to the men in black. “Chubby, my dear?”

The towering bearlike Irishman replies: “Yeah, I’ll go with John. Don’t wreck anything else while I’m gone. Don’t get yourselves deported before the show. EMI will have your heads on spikes.”

Freddie pretends to be scandalized. “Causing destruction? We would never.” He saunters towards the shop door, jingling the bells as he swings it open, and waves like royalty. “See you tonight, darlings!”

“Bye!” Kevin shouts after him. And then, after Freddie, Roger, Brian, and the two non-bearlike men in black have departed: “Oh my god I just met Freddie Mercury and he’s amazing and he knows I exist and he spoke to me and tonight he’s sending a car to take me to a concert and I’m going to have front row seats and what if he invites me to have a drink afterwards oh my god.”

John, evidently unaffected, prompts you: “So your place is just a few blocks away?”

“Yeah. Just let me get my coat…”

The man in black—Chubby, as Freddie had introduced him—fetches your coat off the rack by the door and holds it up so you can slip inside it. No one has ever done that for you before.

“…Thanks…?” You button your coat, feeling a little like royalty yourself at the moment.

John pulls open the door, the tiny metal bells jangling, and gestures out into the streets of downtown Montreal. He’s wearing his aviator sunglasses again; the November wind gusts through his hair. You catch threadbare ghosts of cigarette smoke and cologne that the breeze lifts from his skin like pages of a book. And he smiles, just barely. “After you.”

You walk north together along the path of the sidewalk with your hands in your pockets, your breath fog in the cold, weaving through the bustling crowds of tourists and holiday shoppers, Chubby trailing not far behind and displaying his talent for keeping watch while not letting on that he is. To even your own horror, you can’t seem to shut up.

“John, this is so kind of you, this is completely unnecessary, you really shouldn’t feel like you owe me anything because Freddie already paid for the candles twice over and I was totally unprofessional for yelling at customers, even annoying customers, and Kevin and I are already getting a free concert tonight and so—”

“Okay,” John says firmly. “You have to talk about something else now.”

“I can’t talk about anything else. All I can think about is how ridiculous this is.”

“Have you lived in Montreal long?” he asks, very casually, as if you’re strangers in line next to each other at Starbucks.

“My whole life.” Minus a little over three years, but you don’t need to get into that. “My parents live over in Verdun, right on the St. Lawrence River.

“Sounds scenic.”

“It certainly is.” You’re trying not to look at John, because every time you do it’s hard to stop. You look at the cars rolling by instead. “This is super embarrassing, and I don’t mean to offend you, but what exactly do you do in Queen?”

He’s not offended; he thinks it’s hilarious. “I’m the bassist.”

“Oh, that makes sense.”

“Does it?”

“Yeah, bassists are quiet and reliable or whatever. Bassists don’t terrorize Yankee Candle employees.”

“You’re not a Queen fan?”

“I’m a casual and appreciative listener, but I wouldn’t call myself a fan. I couldn’t pick any of you out of a lineup, clearly. Roger is the drummer, right?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Drummers are feral, almost universally. Which means Brian must be lead guitar.”

“And what do you think of lead guitarists?”

“Word on the street is that they are brilliant yet micromanaging egomaniacs, but I don’t want to bash your friend or anything.”

John chuckles, like there’s some joke you aren’t in on yet. “No, please, bash away. So you prefer bassists.”

And finally you do look at him, and you regret it immediately; because now you’re caught in the thoughtful crinkles around his eyes and the barely-there stubble of his cheeks and the playful curve of his lips and how the wind ruffles his auburn hair the same way it steals leaves off of slumbering trees. You almost walk right past the bakery. “Oh, wait, we’re here.”

You lead John and Chubby upstairs to your chronically irritating apartment. John removes his sunglasses, inspects your bathroom light switch, then asks if you have a specific kind of screwdriver. You bring him the toolkit that has lived beneath the kitchen sink since before you moved in and he roots around, finds what he’s searching for, and unfastens the light switch plate from the wall.

“Please don’t electrocute yourself,” you fret, as Chubby meanders around in the living room and tries not to intrude. “If you die your groupies will never forgive me.”

“Who says I’ve got groupies?” John replies, amused.

“I just assumed all rock stars do.” Your eyes flick down to his hands as he fidgets with the wiring; and you notice randomly—or, maybe, not all that randomly—that he’s not wearing a ring. You’re still ruminating over that when he returns the light switch plate to the wall, secures each of the four screws with a few deft twists of his wrist, and performs a test flip. The light turns on immediately.

“Mission accomplished,” John says mildly.

“What?! No, no way, no freaking way.” You flip the switch again. The light turns off and on obediently. You try it at least five more times. Perfection. “…How?!”

“Just a few loose wires. No great hardship.” He tucks the screwdriver back into the toolkit.  

You gape at him. “That took you…like…two minutes.”

“Aren’t you glad my band wandered into your candle shop and almost demolished the place today?” He rests his hands on his waist; his sturdy, skillful, ringless hands. “Anything else I can fix for you?”

“Definitely not.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

He stares at you. You stare back.

“Stop looking at my fucked up eyeliner.”

John laughs. It’s a delightfully clear, disarming sound. “That’s not what I was doing.”  

“I should fix my makeup and go back to work now. And you should probably go help your friends burn down the bookstore or blow up a Starbucks or do whatever else is on your agenda for today.”

“Soundcheck and dinner, actually,” John says. He slides the toolkit back beneath your kitchen sink, meets Chubby by the front door, and pauses there to give you one last lingering, laden gaze. “I’ll see you tonight.”

“In my best furs,” you purr in your most convincing Freddie Mercury impression.

“Or nothing at all,” John suggests levelly. And then he’s gone.

~~~~~~~~~~

It turns out better than you thought it would. Your tan, knee-high suede boots are celebratory without being too uncomfortable. Kevin brings you a faux fur jacket that he stole from Patrick during the breakup. You find a glittery black dress in the back of your closet that you once loved, then couldn’t stand to look at, then forgot existed entirely; but tonight it’s like you’re seeing it with brand new eyes. It fits even better than you remember. In the mirror, you look like a stranger and a hauntingly familiar acquaintance and yourself all at once.

Chubby arrives in a black limousine at precisely 7pm, parks along the curb next to the bakery, and honks the horn twice. You and Kevin dash down the narrow steps and climb into the backseat, finding complimentary cigarettes and bottled water and chilled champagne. As the limo rolls though Montreal under changing traffic lights, Kevin prattles on about the band, their history, their albums, their tours…and John in particular. He tries to tempt you. You resist valiantly…for the first fifteen minutes, anyway.

Finally, you sigh in capitulation. “Okay. Fine. I get it. What do you know about him?”

“I know he’s divorced,” Kevin says, wiggling his eyebrows. “I saw it on the cover of a tabloid a while back. Very contentious, spicy stuff. He’s got like eight kids.”

“He does not have eight kids!”

“Okay, maybe not eight. But he has a lot,” Kevin insists.

You rearrange your hair with deliberate flippantness. “What do I care if he’s divorced?”

Kevin grins. “You know why you care.”

“Stop,” you plead.

“Look, all I’m saying is that he definitely likes you. And you like him. And I haven’t seen you like anybody, ever, in the…wait, let me count…the nine whole months that I’ve known you. When was the last time you even had a boyfriend? When was the last time you got laid? Oh my god, it hasn’t been nine months, has it?! That’s way too long to go without sex. No wonder you’re so serious all the time. It all makes sense now. You poor thing. You’re in dick withdrawal.”

“Assuming that’s my problem—which it isn’t, by the way—if I wanted to get laid there are far easier ways to accomplish that.”

“Sure,” Kevin says. “But you don’t want just any dick. You want British bassist dick. John Deacon dick. Casablanca dick.”

“This friendship is terminated.”

Kevin cackles, pouring himself a glass of champagne that bubbles over the top and spills onto the limo floor. “I’m really glad you’re here with me. I’m glad we can do this together.”

You fill a champagne flute with bottled water and clink your glass against his, smiling. The limo is turning into the parking lot of the Montreal Forum. “Me too.”

~~~~~~~~~~

The backstage room that Chubby escorts you and Kevin to after the show is full of chatter and heavy smoke and roadies and fans and musicians and journalists, trays of hors d'oeuvres, wine and Stella Artois and vodka and tequila and rum, the electric promise of things that will go unmentioned in the morning. There are stacks of stereo speakers in the corner rumbling out Another One Bites The Dust. You and Kevin camp out on a green velvet couch—making small talk with each other to avoid making it with anyone else—until the band arrives.

John is still wearing his concert outfit: blue pants, blue shirt, a black leather jacket that gives him an edge like a knife. He passes out a few polite nods; but Freddie and Roger are undeniably the suns in this room, and the guests their planets. Freddie is soon surrounded by a constellation of followers and whisks Kevin away with him. John, meanwhile, comes straight to where you’re sitting on the couch and stands in front of you with his messy hair and his veil of cologne and his mystery-candle-blue eyes.

“Can I get you anything?” he asks in that calm, measured way that you’ve learned he has. “Rum and Coke? Moscow Mule? Hurricane? I’ve been on a mojito kick recently.”

“I don’t drink.” And you wait for the inevitable awkwardness that usually follows that sentence, when he says why? or seriously? or maybe just oh in wilted disappointment.

Instead, what John says is this: “No problem. Rum minus the Coke?”

You smile up at him. You can’t help yourself. “That would be perfect.”

There are innumerable drinks already poured on a table, dark carbonated liquid trembling in red plastic cups as the bass from the stereo speakers quakes through the crowded, droning, smoke-hazed room. John moves from cup to cup, taking tentative sips before shaking his head and putting them back down on the table. After each attempt, he casts you a rueful smirk before continuing on to the next cup. At last, he finds two unadulterated Cokes and brings them to the couch: one for you, and one for him. He sits beside you with one of his legs crossed over the other, a lit cigarette in his right hand, a red plastic cup of Coke in his left, and his eyes on you in a way that isn’t hungry or arrogant or restless but merely, benignly contemplative. You find yourself thinking of paintings in museums again, you even start to feel a little like one; and you wonder what colors he sees in you, what types of brushstrokes, what signatures scribbled in the corners of the canvas, what shadows painstakingly penciled in to mimic the angles of the sun.

You tell John about growing up in Montreal, about autumn strolls along the St. Lawrence River, about snowfalls and Mont-Royal and Chinatown and the Notre-Dame Basilica, about the exhilarating turmoil of the Summer Olympics in 1976. You tell him about how Kevin is in his last year at Concordia University and works part-time at the Yankee Candle shop for money to invest in his hair gel and travel fund. You tell him so many things he doesn’t notice all the parts you leave out. In return, John tells you about himself; not about John Deacon the bassist of Queen, but about the understated man who likes cars and electronics and the Beatles and tea in the evenings beside a roaring fireplace. And when his arm comes to rest on the back of the green velvet couch, and then across your shoulders, and then around your waist, it doesn’t feel strange at all. You lean into him as you exchange stories and clandestine giggles until you’re nearly in his lap, and that doesn’t feel strange either. And you haven’t had a drop of alcohol—you haven’t in almost a full year, in fact—but you feel a little drunk tonight, because your cheeks are hot and the room is blurry and the world is brimming with a pure, rose-gold, uncomplicated happiness.

The other band members periodically stop by to say hello, clutching their drinks and making stilted pleasantries as you and John smile drowsily up at them, looking nothing like the soberest people in the room. Chubby and the rest of the men in black are simultaneously omnipresent and scarce, which you are beginning to think is a requirement inked into their job description. Kevin, having been fully absorbed into Freddie’s entourage, is beaming and flushed and extremely, blissfully tipsy. And they all watch you and John not with scandalized sideways glances but with warm approval swimming in their gleaming eyes.

“I don’t think I’ve properly thanked you yet,” you tell John when you are alone again. “For improving my dreadful apartment. So thank you. You really didn’t have to do that. I hate that I marred your time in Montreal with unpaid labor.”

He shrugs it off. “I like fixing things. It’s what I’m best at.”

“Besides being an internationally acclaimed rock star, you mean.”

“I’m honestly not so sure I’m cut out for the rock star life.”

“You are, though. I saw you. I watched you all night.”

John just stares at you, and then he leans in even closer, inhaling deeply. You can feel the heat of his breath on your collarbone, your shoulder, your neck; goosebumps spring up across your skin like stars at twilight. “What the hell is that? Perfume? Lotion? Shampoo?”

“It’s probably sugar and baking bread, because I live on top of a bakery.”

“Does Yankee Candle make anything that smells like you?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “They definitely do not.”

“They should,” John murmurs. And with the rough whirlpools of his fingertips he turns your face to his so he can kiss you.

It should be kind of humiliating, right? Making out with some guy you just met on a green couch in front of thirty strangers, your hands getting tangled in each other’s hair, your lips meeting again and again, taunting darts of the tongue and quick painless bites and stifled moans and grasping tugs at clothes that you’re starting to wish weren’t there at all. It should feel embarrassing, you should feel overexposed, here in this land of unfamiliar expectations and accents and faces. But no one seems to be watching too closely. This must be so tame in the world of rock stars, it occurs to you; almost wholesome. And you can’t remember a time you’ve ever felt more at peace.

“There’s a pool table in the next room,” someone says, startling you, and you break away from John to discover Roger perched on the arm of the couch, grinning coyly as he sips his emerald glass bottle of Stella Artois. “I mean…you know. If you’re into that. John’s got all sorts of moves, we played for days at a time at Ridge Farm. You could challenge him to a round or two. Place bets. But be warned…he’s a total pool shark.”

“Is he?” you ask mischievously, clasping the lapel of John’s leather jacket. Even if you freed him, he shows no indication of retreating. He’s raking his knuckles back and forth along the length of your thigh that your little black dress leaves exposed, never venturing above the hem.  

Roger winks. “Just thought you might want to know.” Then he hops off the couch and disappears into the crowd again.

John is trying to keep his eyes locked on yours, and no lower. He’s trying to not be even vanishingly forceful. He’s trying not to sway you. But you know exactly what he wants. “Do you…?”

“Show me how to play pool,” you whisper. And you lead him through the shuffling bodies and boisterous, increasingly intoxicated laughter and cumulus clouds of cigarette smoke to the door on the other side of the room.

Beyond the threshold you find a pool table and not much else. It’s terribly unceremonious; it’s absolutely perfect. You can hear Blondie’s Call Me playing back in the packed room where the rest of the band is still reveling, the bass crawling through the walls to radiate in your eardrums, your bones. You lock the door and reach out to flick off the harsh florescent lights, but John stops you. You don’t have to ask him why. He wants to be able to see you. He asks if this is okay—again, wordlessly, with the forthright blue of his eyes—and you nod. And then he kisses you as you drag him in, breathing in his cologne and nicotine, tasting the virgin Coke on his lips that he drank just for you.

John tears off his leather jacket. You toss the faux fur that Kevin lent you to the floor. You climb up onto the pool table, and John follows you. You yank off his shirt, link your suede boots around him as he positions himself between your naked, down-soft thighs. And then John stops.

“Look, I have to be honest,” he says. His hands tremble as they cradle the small of your back, just barely. “I’m newly divorced, and I’m really out of practice, I mean really out of practice, and this is not at all my usual way of doing things, and if I’m total rubbish or only last like thirty seconds or something I just want to apologize in advance and swear that I’ll do absolutely everything I can to make this worth it for you. Because I like you. I really, really like you.”

“I’m a little rusty too,” you confess with a small, sheepish smile. But he doesn’t need to know exactly how rusty you are, or in how many ways, all those layers of blood-hued ruin that spin webs from the skin down to the marrow.

John seems relieved. “Then maybe we’re even.”

You’re not even, you’re nowhere close; but it’s comforting that he thinks you could be.

John kisses you again. His hands find the zipper on the back of your dress, and then the tiny metal clasp of your bra, and then the black lace of your panties…and then everything else as well.

~~~~~~~~~~

Afterwards, you return together to the green velvet couch in the next room, not with bashful swiftness but with your hands entwined, your eyes satiated and calm, your clothes unapologetically rumpled. The partying is winding down. The song pouring through the stereo speakers is In The Air Tonight by Phil Collins. And now you and John don’t talk very much at all; you just sit there with fresh cups of Coke, your head resting against his chest, his left arm draped around you, watching the rest of the universe spin on like a carousel as your feet stay rooted to the earth.

“So you’re the smart one,” you say eventually. “You must be, with an electrical engineering degree.”

“You’d be surprised. We’re rather erudite, as far as rock stars go.” He smiles drowsily down at you. “Freddie’s got a degree in graphic art and design. Roger has one in biology. Brian has the better part of a PhD in astrophysics. He might even go back to finish it one day. He probably will, just to be able to lord it over us.”

“Wow,” you reply, distantly, suddenly feeling very small.

“What did you study?” he asks you.

In truth, you never finished college; but you aren’t going to tell John that. “Something useless.”

John is intrigued, and perhaps a little concerned as well. His brow furrows with grooves like lines of fortune in an open palm.

“I wanted to be a painter,” you explain, smirking at the absurdity. “But the world doesn’t need painters anymore. They have pictures and videos that are just as clear as real life. They don’t need my fantasies or interpretations. They have reality.”

“I think we still need painters,” John disagrees, his calloused fingertips tracing lazy circles around your bare shoulder.

“Really?”

“Yeah. For when reality requires improving.”

You let a few moments of silence tick by. And then you put on your faux fur jacket, finish the last of your Coke, stand and find your balance on the low heels of your boots with exhausted, shaky calves.

John jolts upright, somewhat alarmed. “Hey, you don’t have to—”

“This was great, John. This was the best night I’ve had in a long time. So thank you for that. But I have to go home now.”

“Okay.” He studies you, processing. “Okay, okay. I’ll have Chubby drive you.”

“That’s really not necessary, I can get a cab…”

But John has already waved Chubby over, and the massive man appears serendipitously with an impossible degree of stealth. Kevin finds you, staggering, babbling breathlessly about all of his adventures, showing you where Freddie and Roger and Brian signed his chest with a black Sharpie, repeating the same stories on an identical loop every few minutes. As you leave, you offer John a brief parting wave; and he returns it, like a reflection in a mirror, but he’s wearing a pensive frown and eyes dark with thought. Then again, maybe you are too.

Chubby leads you and Kevin outside to the waiting limousine. You slip into the backseat, ply Kevin with bottled water, open the sunroof so moonlight and cold, reviving November air can flood in like a river.

Kevin is coming down now from the high of the champagne and the concert and the carousing with Freddie Mercury. He blinks, soaking you in, really seeing you for the first time in hours. “Wow, you had a good night with Casablanca. You had a really good night.”

“Yeah,” you reply softly, resting your head against the window and watching the stars and streetlights pass by above like seasons. “And it will never happen again.”

#queen fic #john deacon fic #fic series #72 hours in montreal

[ayybtch]

Alcoholic Juice Box

Bucky Barnes x f!Reader

Summary: Adulthood sucks. You know what doesn’t suck? Blanket forts and alcoholic juice boxes.

Word count: 1,773

Warnings: Liberal use of the word ‘fuck’ and variations of the word ‘fuck’, brief mention of financial troubles, brief mention of crappy friends and family who are too focused on their own nonsense to care about the well being of anyone else, alcohol mentions and some alcohol consumption at the very end.

A/N: This maybe got a tad personal and self indulgent (oops). Before anyone asks, yes this was my actual stress response. I’m not proud of it but it worked! 😂 also, a very special thank you goes to the lovely @kellyn1604​ for giving this a quick read for me 💕

A Mutual Weirdness Masterlist 

Bucky sighed in relief as he finally sat down in the back of the Quinjet. He, Sam, and Steve had been on a mission nonstop for the past twelve days tracking down Hydra agents. His whole body ached and he was desperate for some normal human interaction. Specifically, he was desperate for normal human interaction with you. All nonessential phone calls or text conversations had been prohibited, so it truly had been twelve days of uninterrupted Steve and Sam. Normally they made for great company and he enjoyed being around them. But now? Now Bucky was almost ready to never see their faces again. He thought on multiple occasions during the mission that all SHIELD trainees should have to endure Sam’s singing for hours on end as a part of their hostage training. If they can survive that with Steve’s occasional attempts at harmonizing, they can survive anything.

Once the Quinjet was in the air, he took out his phone and sent you a quick text saying they were on their way back. Not even a minute later, Bucky’s screen lit up with an incoming Facetime call from you. His heart surged at the thought of seeing you hours before he initially expected to and answered without a moment's hesitation. The smile written on his face fell as soon as he saw you.

You looked terrible. The exhaustion he felt after twelve days of work suddenly seemed like nothing compared to the exhaustion written on your face. You tried to smile at him, but the smile didn’t fully reach your eyes. Bucky’s gut twisted.

“Doll, what’s going on? Are you okay?” he asked, his voice dripping with worry.

You tried to nod yes but burst out in tears instead. The tears kept coming and after a few minutes, Bucky really started to worry.

“When you feel ready, take a couple deep breaths for me. Tell me what’s going on so I know how to help.”

It took a few minutes, but your tears started to slow and your breathing began to even out. Bucky smiled at you reassuringly as you took a few deep breaths before starting to talk.

“Bucky, I’m so sorry. You’ve been on a mission and here I am crying before you even had the chance to say hello,” you said, wiping away a stray tear rolling down your cheek.

“These past few days have just been really hard. Well, the past couple of months really, but everything’s starting to hit me all at once. School sucks, I can’t believe they’re allowed to charge me what they are. College is stressful enough as it is, why does paying for it have to be challenging too? I work thirty hours a week during the semester and over forty during breaks, yet I still can’t afford to go to school without taking out student loans. It’s bullshit. On top of all of that, I still have my regular bills to pay too!

“And as if financial stress isn’t enough, my family and friends have all decided that this week was the week to start up as much drama as possible…” you trailed off and a new round of tears began.

Bucky’s heart broke as he watched your body shake with each new sob. He desperately wished it was his hands wiping away your tears instead of your own.

The tears ended a little quicker this time, but the sadness didn’t quite leave your face as you started to speak, “My family is fighting over something stupid and using me as the go-between because I wasn’t there when the argument started. But at the same time, they’re bitching at me for ‘never being there’ when it’s their own fault for not inviting me!

“My friends are also upset that I don’t have the time to see them as often anymore and are bitching about that. One of them is freaking out in particular because she thinks she’s about to be dumped, while another is complaining about how much she doesn’t like being married because now her mother-in-law expects grandbabies. I’m fucking tired of everything and everyone.”

Bucky waited to see if you were going to continue before he spoke. “Doll, I am so sorry. That’s a lot to handle all at once. What can I do to help?”

You shook your head. “I don’t think there’s much you can do, Bucky. I just let things build up too much and they all exploded at once.” You paused for a moment and let out a bitter chuckle, “This whole adulting thing is a load of garbage. What a fucking scam. I can’t believe I ever wanted to grow up.”

Bucky couldn’t hold back his laughter. Before he could say anything though, you spoke up again

“You know what? Fuck it. I’m done being an adult. I’m going to go do something childish and ignore all my adult responsibilities.”

Bucky snorted. “Oh yeah? What childish thing are you going to do?”

You pondered for a moment, eyebrows furrowed together as you considered your options. Bucky could see the lightbulb go off in your head before a smug smile crept up onto your face. “I’m going to build a blanket fort. Nobody expects adult things from someone who’s hanging out in a blanket fort”

If you hadn’t looked and sounded so serious, Bucky would’ve laughed again. Instead, he just nodded and smiled.

You weren’t amused by his lack of enthusiasm. “Oh c’mon, are you really telling me that a blanket fort isn’t the obvious solution to my problems?”

Bucky went to reply, but you cut him off with a gasp as a look of pure joy swept across your face. The joy soon transitioned into a look that screamed pure chaos. Bucky suddenly felt nervous.

“I’m going to go to the store and get juice boxes before I start. The blanket fort was a brilliant first step in my ‘Fuck The Scam That Is Adulthood’ plan, but the juice boxes -” you mimed a chef kiss “- are the icing on the cake.”

“Juice boxes, huh? That one’s a little surprising,” he teased. “Do you want me to make you a peanut butter and jelly sandwich to go along with that? Or maybe you’d like some fruit snacks?”

You smiled devilishly back at him, “Well, it needs to be an alcoholic juice box though. That’s the one part of adulting I do like, so it gets to be the exception.”

This time Bucky didn’t even bother trying to hold back his laughter. “I’m not sure anything describes you better than an alcoholic juice box.”

“Agreed. Now if you excuse me, I’m going to go buy myself some juice boxes, make the blanket fort of my dreams, and then hide in it whilst pretending the world doesn’t exist. Come over as soon as you’re home and ready. Bring some food with you!”

The call ended abruptly and Bucky stared at the screen in disbelief for a moment before he chuckled. He leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes, wondering how he ended up with someone as beautiful and crazy as you. He was still worried of course. Everything you had mentioned that was contributing to your stress was a lot. He fell asleep trying to plan out how to help you and what he could do to help keep things from being bottled up for this long again.

Three hours and a hot shower later, Bucky found himself walking up the steps to your apartment with food from your favorite Chinese restaurant in hand. He unlocked the door and made his way in, kicking off his shoes by the door.

“Doll, it’s me. Where are you?”

He heard you giggle slightly before calling out to him, “I’m in my room.”

He made his way back towards your room and his feet froze before he was fully in the door. He blinked a few times to make sure he wasn’t imagining things. You had built the most massive blanket fort he had ever seen. Fort was no longer the appropriate word to use; it was a blanket castle. He knew you were chaotic, but this...this was an entirely new level of chaotic, even for you.

Chairs from the living room and kitchen had been brought in as support beams, packing tape was being used to hold up one side of a sheet against the wall, and couch cushions were arranged to create a small tunnel as an entrance to the fort. The empty bed frame suggested you had even moved your mattress onto the floor for the sake of this damn fort. Once the initial shock wore off, he crouched down and carefully crawled inside.

Every pillow and cushion in your apartment was inside the fort with you, along with the few blankets that somehow hadn’t been used in the fort itself. You were curled up under your comforter with a bottle of wine in hand.

“I have to say when you said you were building a blanket fort I certainly did not expect something this big.” He leaned forward and gave you a quick kiss to the forehead as you giggled at his surprise.

““That’s what you get for underestimating my fort-making abilities,” You took a long sip of wine straight from the bottle before handing it to Bucky.

“I commend you on your taste in juice boxes, though I’d hardly call this a box.” he teased. He held up the bottle and looked at it closer before adding, “You also seem to have drunk most of it already. Guess I should have brought my own.” He estimated there was barely enough wine left to fill half of a glass. You sat there and shrugged.

“I’ll have you know I did consider getting a boxed wine to be more authentic. I decided against it though because that one’s harder to casually drink from. But bottle, schmottle - it’s a minor detail at this point. As to your astute observation about that one being almost empty, there are two more in the fridge. You can go open one up if you’re wanting some,” You paused for a moment before continuing, “The far more important concern right now is if you remembered to get extra egg rolls. You know how much drunk me loves egg rolls.”

Bucky rolled his eyes before dutifully reaching into the bag of takeout that had been haphazardly pushed to the side and pulling out three orders of egg rolls. A happy squeal and a quick peck on the cheek was all he needed to think that maybe your approach to adulthood wasn’t half bad.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #a mutual weirdness

[buckysmischief]

they think my lover is strange

Loki x reader, soulmate au

Word Count: 1.4k

Summary: No wonder you didn’t find your soulmate sooner, he’s a damn god who lived in outer space.

Warnings: language, expected levels of angst topped with the right amount of fluff

AN: This is too late but it’s for @honeyvbarnes ‘s birthday challenge! I chose a soulmate au & this is my first attempt at one. I know she’s on a break but she knows it’s being uploaded and I REALLY HOPE YOU LOVE IT VI! // I listened to a lot of Halsey while writing this, this is a lil inspired :)

Masterlist

Even in a world where soulmates exist, almost ruling out any unnecessary heartbreak, you still had to work for it. Who said it was easier, anyways? Whose bright idea was it to have your soulmates name show up on your wrist? And just to make things more complicated, it wasn’t always their first name. See, fate was a funny thing.

About a year after you’re born a name would show up on your wrist, obviously the name of your soulmate, and when you found each other the letters would change from black to a new, random color. Half would get the others' first name beautifully displayed on their skin, and while that’s still pretty difficult, it wasn’t as confusing as having your soulmate's last name on you.

It was easy to find out someone’s first name, you just introduce yourself and if that’s your person, then BOOM instant love. But if you have their last name on your wrist, it wasn’t that easy. Not many people were interested in giving out their whole name to a stranger who will most likely not be their soulmate. You, unfortunately, were among the half with a .

Odinson. What kind of a name is that anyway?

You used to think that it could be easy to find your soulmate, all you’d have to do it Google the name. But when you didn’t find anything you could actually go on, you decided it was best to just let fate do its thing. Maybe taking a year to travel the world, because that’s definitely not an american name, could have been seen as taking the wheel, but you were no closer than you were before.

After college you took a job at Stark Industries working with Tony himself as his personal lab assistant. Not only did Tony give you permission to work on whatever you wanted in your free time, but it also allowed you to meet all kinds of people without having to disrupt your routine. There was no way whoever this Odinson is is a normal person, it was something you’ve always been so sure about but never could explain it to others. It wasn’t until the day after the battle of New York did you find out just how right you were.

You got a call from Tony saying you had the rest of the week off but you elected to ignore him. No way you were turning down uninterrupted lab time. Once you got into the lab you couldn’t help but notice the alien weaponry on Tony’s side, what was he planning on doing with all of it? He’d likely ask you to assist, so you’d find out eventually. You finally got to your desk and started organizing your notes and important documents.

Hours had passed and you didn’t even realize it. So when you turned around to found a strange muscular man studying you, you freaked the fuck out. “Oh my GOD you can’t just do that! Who are you!?” you yelled at the stranger.

His demeanor never changed, “My name is Thor O-” he stopped himself. “I’m a friend of Stark.”

He wasn’t meant to bring Loki back for another day or so, Tony wanted to ask some questions and run a few tests, all which Thor agreed to. So while Tony was attempting to know Loki better, he decided he’d explore the tower. What he didn’t expect to find was to see you through the glass, reading so intently he was positive you never blinked. If anyone asked him why he originally felt compelled to talk to you, he’d tell them he was just following his gut. But when he was coming up behind you, he saw your soulmark. His name.

Only a few minutes had passed while he thought of what to do. He didn’t think for a second that he was your soulmate, he knew he wasn’t - after meeting Jane the year before both of their soulmarks turned deep red. Which could only mean one thing, you were Loki’s. He tried to recall a memory where he saw the name that belonged to his brother, but it didn’t exist. By the time Thor paid attention to those kinds of things, Loki used his magic to cover his mark.

He was just about to announce himself when you turned around and screamed. When you asked his name, he caught himself before he gave you false hope. No, he wanted you and Loki to share that moment. The moment where you told him your name and all of his walls fall, a moment that has nothing to do with being the God of Mischief or the brother of Thor. After he found out the truth behind Loki’s attack, he hoped finding you would change him into the man he was meant to be. Otherwise, why wouldn’t it read Laufeyson?

“Oh, I’m sorry.” you stood up to shake his hand. “My name is Yn, I’m Tony’s personal- wait, you fought alongside Tony right? What the hell was all that!?”

Thor thought about giving you details about his heroics against an alien army, but he had a better idea. “I have someone I want you to meet, he can explain it better.”

You followed him to the elevator and took it to the underground levels, to the floor where Tony tests some of his inventions. When the doors opened, you noticed Tony sitting in front of a man inside of a glass box, which you’d eventually learn was an Asguardian cell. If you worked anywhere else, you’d be concerned, but you trusted Tony and his process.

“Ah, Yn, you found Thor. Why am I not surprised?” he laughed, eyes never leaving the man in the chair. So when he noticed Loki’s eyes land on you after he said your name, he got curious. “Hey, Yn. This is Loki, he’s as interesting as they come. Ask him something, see if he answers for you.”

“Mmm,” you didn’t have to ask the obvious, he was obviously behind the attack. Asking him why would be smart, but this guys not from here, and you could ask him anything. “Why’d you do it.”

His eyes never left yours, and you didn’t know how that made you feel until he spoke for the first time. He smirked, “That’s not what you’re interested in, now is it, love? Ask me the question you really want, I promise it’ll be worth it.”

“What’s-” you cut yourself off. “If Loki is your first name… what’s, what’s your last name…?”

Thor and Tony didn’t miss the way you had begun to gravitate to the younger god, now close enough to touch the glass. He put his left arm against the glass, magic disappearing to show your name as he answered, “Odinson. My name is Loki Odinson.”

“Hi,” you whisper. “I’m Yn.”

Never did you think your soulmate would be anything like the man standing in front of you, he was beyond everything you knew to be possible. You spent the whole night down there getting to know him, and when Tony came in the next morning to find you both asleep next to each other with only the glass separating you, he wasn’t surprised. It still took Thor hours to convince him to let Loki out of the cell, but he did. Under the condition that the two of you were not to be alone.

When Thor opened the door, Loki took a second to thank him, that’s all the time he had before you were pulling him close to you. He picked you up and effortlessly wrapped you around him, only wishing to hold you close and breath in your scent. “I was beginning to believe I’d never find you, my love.”

“Well you did, and you brought an army.” you laugh into the crook of his neck. “My soulmate’s a big dummy.”

Thor didn’t expect Loki to be offended by the comment, not from you. No, he expected his brother to pretend to be offended, but instead laughter filled his ears. Genuine, heartfelt laughter he hadn’t heard from his brother since they were young.

He put you back down and cupped your face, “It seems you’re right, Yn.” Before you fully registered what he had said, his lips were on yours, kissing you like he needed you to breathe. Much to your disappointment, though, Loki pulled away, looking at you as if you hung each star in the galaxy.

“So, love, how do you feel about being a Queen?”

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#honeyvbirthdaychallenge #loki x reader #loki odison x reader #soulmate au #marvel #mcu fanfic #angst #fluff