#perfect nose.. perfect little scar on his cheekbone.. perfect sideways mouth

[alitheamateur]

Fantasy Flight

A/N: YOU GUYS. I’M ALIVE. MY CREATIVITY IS HANGING BY A WEAK THREAD, BUT I’M ALIVE. I managed this little oneshot, in a much, much lengthier amount of time than I would have liked, but here we are after months of a dry spell. I’m hoping this will kick-start some more content, and kill my writers block!!!!! Cross your fingers for me, loves.

You meet Steve Rogers on what seems to be a never-ending flight. But, the man has ways to occupy your time...

WARNINGS: NSFW. Smut, oral sex, language, mile-high action.

Steve Rogers x Reader

The mediocre clearance rack novel you picked up before you boarded wasn’t holding your attention nearly as much as you’d hoped, and the free movie playing was one you didn’t care to partake in again. Sure, the window-seat sunset was beautiful. Neon and pink, with fading blues and clouds like fresh linens and cotton. But, you’d never been in the air this long, and your worrisome tendencies were worming their way to the surface with unmerited warning.

Somehow, thank your lucky stars, you’d scored an empty row all to yourself, so the undisturbed nap you’d just stirred from helped shoo the passing of another hour or so on your journey. You concluded with the aid of a couple more stiff cocktails, you’d doze off and be kissing ground before you knew it.

Just as you were about to click on your light for assistance from the attendant, a man across the aisle stretched into your peripheral.

“No use. I’ve been trying to get a bag of peanuts from her for the last half hour. Seems the eligible doctor on the first row is keeping her busy.”

You combed your matted, once-styled hair from your eyes so you could see clearly if his exterior matched his friendly, congenial voice. Your lips stole a smile before your self-control could protest, and the one on his face grew tenfold in return.

His hair was a muddy blonde, cut clean and proper to match his smooth face, revealing a flexed, dominant jaw. You couldn’t tell what the material of his threaded black shirt was made of, but it had to have been something with flexing give the way it pulled over rugged cuts of bicep. His lashes were long, fluttering and youthful, but they didn’t hide the slight simmer of mischievous delight in his storm-ridden eyes.

“Well, if she doesn’t get here soon, I may have to make my way to the liquor stash on this rig.”

He was cockeyed in the aisle seat across the way, hands folded over the armrest before he offered one your way.

“I’m Steve Rogers, by the way.”

You fumbled with a decision on whether to engage furthermore. Travelling alone to another country had its potential dangerous without conversing with a lone man on an uncrowded flight. But, his clean smile, and bright skin told a harmless story, and you figured maybe a bit of friendly banter would pass the time and distract you welcomingly.

“Y/N. Nice to meet you, Steve the peanut guy.” You played cheekily as your thumb brushed over his hand and closed in a shake.

“Peanut guy, huh? Well, I have certainly been called much worse, by a much less beautiful mouth.”

He had captured your hand, and long overdue held its embrace, and you hoped the whispers inside your head weren’t falling into his palms. The plump veins sheathed under his skin pulsed as you watched them, and suddenly your carnal curiosity settled at the gap of your thighs.

“Ah, a smooth talker, I see. Do you make it a habit of picking up lonely women on flights then, Steve?”

He fluttered a requesting gaze at the empty seat next to you, gentlemanly asking for an invitation. You weren’t even sure how he fit through the threshold of the cramped walkway, much less how his broad shoulders rested comfortably in the less than accommodating seats.

“Actually, I’m probably the farthest thing from a man as such, sweetheart. But, the longer I watched you across the way, the more I just had to hear the sound that came out of those lips.”

What you would have classified as trash coming from most men you meet, sounded only like genuine truth from a guy like Steve and his pearly, symmetrical smile.

“And was it everything you hoped it would be, Mr. Rogers?”

He only had eyes for your mouth. And you, for the sudden peculiar growth behind his zipper.

“Beyond it. But, if I’m being honest, there were more than words that I needed to hear…”  

Radiant, obvious flushes of pink pooled at your cheekbones, and something in Steve’s unapologetic face spoke to your every attraction.

“I do have a pretty mean Chewbaca impersonation, if that’s what you’re into.” You remarked, seeing how far you could take him.

There was a glint of a smile, but nothing could break the resolute hunger for Steve to have you in the filthiest of ways.

He cleared his throat. “I haven’t quite figured out exactly what I’m into. But, something tells me it’s whatever is sitting pretty beneath those long delicious legs.”

You’re certain he shocked your heart to a stop, and if it was possible to come by words alone, it may have just happened inside your panties.

Fearful of what you may say, or of leaving a puddle in the cloth of your seat, you fled like a heaving, hot mess.

Very rarely had any man made you blush, or even anything close to such. But, whether it be the way he somehow made his unsubtle innuendos seem uncharacteristically dopey and polite, or simply his God-forsaken, flawless, womb-shattering face, you needed a solo moment to seek out your composure.

The vacant sign on the stuffy bathroom called to you, and you slid in sideways through the cramped door. The peachy lines of your lips were gathering a mist of sweat, and using your even swampier palms to dab the wetness away was useless. It was as if your pheromones had pitched a humid aura around you, and even your hair had frizzed with the static of your arousal.

As you unleashed the cool flow from the faucet to settle your sweltering fever, you heard a double tap in the panel of the door.

“Just a minute.” You chirped, confused as to why the individual couldn’t clearly read that the room was occupied.

You heard a raspy throat clear, the ruins of a chuckle present.

“It’s me, darlin’. You okay in there?”

“I uh, I’ll be out in a minute, Steve. I’m fine, really.” But, the truth was anything but. Your hand quaked against the handle, threatening to open the door just for a quick glance at him. Maybe a hefty enough dose of the slithery sneer to help you tend to the pressure swimming in the lower of your belly.

“You looked a little shaky, Y/N. I wouldn’t feel right if I didn’t check in on you.”

You were quite rickety on your feet, but it had nothing to do with illness. Unless being irrepressibly turned on was a medical concern.

Before your reflexes consulted your brain, you were unlatching the metal of the door, to see Steve leaned cross-armed in the rectangle entry. There was a crease between his smiling eyes, and in the fluorescent light of the bathroom bulbs, you could see a scuffed scar beneath his prominent chin. He stepped inside abruptly forcing your back to stumble against the wall, probably sharing the fear that you’d suddenly discover some shred of better judgment and dignity and kick him out.

Both of you froze, blood hardened with anxious suspense, and budding expectancy. After only stillness, Steve’s strong, yet concerned hand trapped the side of your cheek, then found your forehead.

“My God, you’re burning up, doll.” He fiddled with a stray hair clinging to your face, the flowing tempo of his breathing thick and struggled. “We should probably do something about that.”

His able fist snaked to your back, gathering up the length of your hair, then he craned his neck to unleash whispering gusts of cool air down the nape of your heat-rashed neck. Steve breathed over your cheeks, over the hills of your collarbones, then aimed his pouted lips down the slit of your v-neck shirt between the canyon of your weighted breasts.

Gulp.

“That… Yeah, that helps a lot, Steve. Th-thank you.” He had you. Your drowsy eyes were lidded with sex, much like the refection in his very own eyes.

“I’m just getting started, gorgeous. I’ll have you feeling all better in no time.”

Somewhere in the beginnings of his performance, you had been too hypnotized to notice he had pulled free the elastic tie of your waistband, and ably situated you to sit on the sink. The head of the water nozzle prodded the flesh of your back, but your suspicions assured you some forthcoming ecstasy would distract the discomfort.

“Let’s give you a good look over, shall we?”

With a faded glance, Steve pushed himself to your lips, paced licks of his tongue swabbing the stains of liquor on your mouth. You moved to dangle your suddenly feeble arms around his neck, but after a playful nip of his teeth, he pulled away.

“Seems your lips are in perfect condition. But, we may give them another look at in a bit. But first, there’s a few other crucial locations I should see have my full attention.”

Veiled in thin cotton, and even thinner lace, your budding nipples felt the very real tugs, and gripped fondles of his seemingly always magical hands.

You squealed. Pitches of ear-shattering octaves broke the barrier of sound as your skirt began bunching at your waist.

“Wow.” You mustered.

His eager, doe-like eyes admired the teasingly dainty pink bow stitched at the center of your angelic white panties.

“What a sweet little doll you are. So ready for me, Y/N.”

With two measly fingers, Steve ripped your cheeky underwear at the seams, and his entire face crashed into your aching center like some sort of erotic magnet. When he inhaled your scent, a masculine cut nose splitting your lips, you heard the crackle and pops of the sink’s vanity cracking beneath you. The very aroma of your desire for him drove Steve so beyond the brink of control, his grip on the edge of the counter had given way to his strength.

“And this. This sweet, sweet cunt seems to be… Mhmm, seems to be as perfect as can be.”

His explicit admirations sounded like murmuring babbles as his lapping tongue was deeply preoccupied, but the smile lines of his dark-sparked eyes told his tale. You tousled his schoolboy combover, the prowess in you guiltily indulging in roughing him up a little, and he hardly nicked at your puffy entrance.

“Mind those teeth, Mr. Rogers,” you brazenly remarked. But secretly, his cheeky bites were only spurring you on from every corner.

Suddenly, twined with slurps of starvation, and swirls of a mindful tongue, came a burst of your most erotic orgasm. There was a rueful knock on the door, no doubt a polite passenger concerned with the wails reddening your throat, but you both snubbed the intrusion. Steve giggled, fucking giggled, as he attempted to catch every glistening drop of your sugar-sweet release, like he was a silly boy feasting at a candy dispenser.

“Mmmm, like syrup, I’m tellin’ ya’. Better give it all, baby.”

Your mascara had smeared, and your missing earring must’ve been somewhere lonely on the sticky floor, but you were rancid with the high of an almost frighteningly rewarding orgasm, and needed more.

“If you don’t bend me over this sink in two seconds, Steve, I may regret this decision all together.” You plopped to the ground, skirt bundled in your fist, and angled your bottom end indiscreetly over his suitable bulge.

Steve pulled his shirt over his head with one capable hand, while the other made headway on his suddenly cumbersome belt.

“Don’t you worry. You just bend over like a good girl, and I’ll make for certain you get off this plane with everything but regrets. Now, bite on this before those lovely little screams get us into trouble, hm?”

He plugged your mouth with the warmth of his t-shirt, his thumb playing at your lips. You could see the blurs of his reflection in the mirror, and you felt a convulse quake over your body at the sight of mountainous canyons of muscle. When you heard his zipper fall, a knot settled in your windpipe. His heat reached your core before his actual flesh, and your orgasmic, weepy eyes fell closed for a moment when he worked his way inside you.

“My. God. What a tight, tight little beauty you are, Y/N,” Steve cried into your ear as he bent over your back.  

The flexes of his abs laying across your spine, dewy slickness parading at your neck where his scalding exhales landed. The whole scene was one for the most blushing of erotica. His rhythm was unsteady. Quick, then lethargic and dirty, with matter of fact grunts punctuating his every move. The unpredictable thrusts kept your entrance hyperaware with luscious anticipation.

You kept your eyes on the mirror, hopeful to catch the clear vision of an emotion on his painfully hot face. Your eyes wanted to give away, surrender to closing at his sexual mercy, but you held watch, nonetheless.

His deep pounds into your slicked center clouded your focus, but quickly you felt the weight of Steve’s head leave your shouder, and you caught eye contact. It was obvious, by the sheepish quirk of a smile, the blown pupils, and impossible thickness of his neck, Steve Rogers was designed to please a woman past the point of return.

A hand like a sneaky snake crawled down the crevice between your pelvis, and shivering thigh, discovering the pleasantly painful swell of your clit. The mirror in front of you, now cloudy with steam from your erratic breaths, caught your handprint as you stretched and clawed for something to take the blunt force of your excitement. A storm of thunderous come brewed inside you, and before you knew it, Steve’s eyes pooled with the onslaught of his own hurricane.

“Round two when we land says I can time this one just right, sweetheart…” He winked, referring to what would be your first unison release with a partner.

Oh, the smugness. The crude, pompous…. Salaciously sexy smugness.

His hips bucked, digging and rooting to the bottom of your belly, while his fingers almost tickled your blossom like the strings of a harp, becoming well acquainted. You matched his showing off, swirling circles around his unfathomably sized cock, doing everything in your power to simply prove his sure ego wrong.

But, with the last push of your pert bum back at him, he flicked at the heart of your sweet spot. Your sight went spotted and white, every hair on your flesh straight as a cats’ back.

“S-S-Steve!”

The pulses of your eruption pulled the red-stricken head of his length, and before your legs even began to fully twitch with satisfaction, Steve howled, and you felt a tickle spewing inside of you.

“Perfect. Fucking. Timing.” He cursed, a puddle of meeting juices pooling at both of your feet.

He kissed the blade of your shoulder, tasting the salt of your sweat, his palms massaging into the cheeks that had left reddening marks on his sculpted thighs. He caressed you, helping you to stand straight, tracing the lines of your body with fervor.

“Looks like we have a date when this plane lands, gorgeous.”  

TAGS: @miidailyinspiration​ @eap1935​ @mollybegger-blog​ @spideypxgirl​ @fanfictionaffair​ @firstangeldragonranch​

(If I missed your tag, PLEASE send me a message. It’s my best way of keeping up with taglists. xo)

#Chris Evans #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #chris evans oneshot #steverogers #captainamerica #chris evans fanfiction #oneshot #captain america oneshot #chris evans smut #smut #steve rogers smut

[fromheroestodust]

Rose Killer: Pt.5; Calm Before the Storm

Summary: you're the leader of the strongest mafia in London. What will happen when you're forced to team up with your worst enemy?

Warnings: Hostage-ish situation, language, mentions of death

Word count: 3384

A/N: taglist is open!

Slowly you open your eyes, light peeking through the curtains and lighting up a patch of the room, dust dancing in the brightness while Harrison still sleeps in front of you. "Haz." You whisper, gently shaking him. "Haz." He let's out a small groan and turns on to his back, eyes squinting in the light of the morning.

"Good morning." He says, his voice still groggy from sleep as be turns his head to look at you with a small grin grazing his chapped lips.

"Do you have anything planned for today?" You ask, a sudden idea crossing your mind causing excitement to sprout in you.

"Nope. Tom's busy all day though." He answers, twirling a piece of your hair between two of his fingers, his focus on the spinning strands.

"Good." You grin with a bite of your lip, sitting up causing Harrison's arms to fall off of your waist.

"You really hate Tom." He yawns, sitting up in front of you with a tired smile of his own.

"It wasn't supposed to come out that way." You grumble before continuing your thoughts. "We should have a picnic or something in the back yard."

"Sounds good considering this is probably going to be the last nice day of the year." Harrison agrees. "Won't it raise suspicions though? I don't think it's really good to have everyone know about us yet, yeah?"

"Yeah, we can just say we're eating outside. As friends." You say, a troublesome grin on your face.

"As friends." He repeats with a smile of his own. "But it's a little too early to go out now." His eyes glance to the window, the sun waking behind the curtains in the sky.

"Thank you Captain obvious." You sigh with the corners of your mouth raising more into a toothy smile. "So what're we gonna do?"

"Well it's like," he stops to look at the clock, "Another half hour until they normally wake up."

"What're we supposed to do in this extra half hour?" You yawn, suddenly finding it very chilly and pulling the plush duvet around your body to get warmer and conserve your remaining body heat.

"Boardgame?" Harrison suggests, motioning to the multiple boxes that sat in a neat stack on the bedside table.

"Sure."

You both climb off of the bed and to the table, finally landing on Candy Land before sitting on the floor.

-

"Nooo!" You exclaim as you draw the cupcake card while you were three spaces away form winning. Harrison laughs as you place your piece nearly back to the start, a pout on your face. "Shit, it's been like an hour! 'm starving!"

The two of you pack away the game and then step into the hallway, confusion setting into the mood around your duo. "Why's it entirely dark...?"

"I don't know." You mumble, fear clutching at your stomach and squeezing it as you cling to Harrison's arm, your mind telling you someone is going to jump out and take you back to that shitty excuse of a warehouse. You grab the gun attached to a holder around your waist and pull it out, holding it tightly at your side.

"We would've heard something if someone broke in." Haz assures you, though uncertainty laces his words. "Let's go downstairs." You both make your way down the flight of stairs, your grip now on Harrison's hand. Your breathing slows to make it silent just at the chance of attackers as you stop just where the wall stops halfway down the flight. You and Harrison point your guns down, hearing voices from the ground floor-

"Paddy, can you put these on the table?" A woman's voice says, a sigh of relief falling from Harrison's and yours lips before you release his hand from your grasp and finally step in to the kitchen.

"Ah Y/n there you are!" Nikki says giving you a quick smile. "Morning Harrison."

"Mornin." He replies, taking his seat next to you at the table across from Sam while you sit across from Harry. Paddy sets a large plate of waffles in the middle of the table, everyone else reaching for one like a pack of wolves while you wait for the others to get their own.

"By the way, why's it so dark? And cold." Haz asks, a bite of food in his mouth as he looks around at the dark ground floor.

"Power went out." Harry answers. "They've no clue what happened so it'll probably be like this all day."

"That's just lovely." You sigh in a voice barely above a whisper. While you find it easy to talk around Harrison and Tom, everyone else you can hardly talk to them at full volume half the time, only adding a comment in every now and then. You're getting better, but it's still a struggle to hold a five minute conversation.

"Can't be too bad." Sam shrugs before taking another bite.

"Guess." You sigh, cutting your own waffle into bite sized pieces.

-

"Haz!" You exclaim as he takes the fedora off of your head, placing it on his own with a wide grin. Staring up at him, you reach for the hat but Harrison gently grabs your wrist and moves your hand down with a chuckle.

*You reach up to punch your attacker but he roughly grabs your wrist, forces it down, and ties it before continuing to beat you.

You pull your wrist away and hold your hand in the opposite one, fear coursing through your eyes and veins as your empty gaze is set on the wall opposite you.

"Y/n?" Haz asks, the smile fading from his features and instead is replaced with worry as he searches your face for an answer.

"'m sorry..." You mumble, looking down in embarrassment. Why did you keep doing this?

"It's fine darling," he assures you, a light pink dusting your cheeks and ears at the pet name, "Just tell me if something's wrong."

"Okay." You agree, looking up again. He places a chaste kiss to your forehead before placing your fedora on your hair sideways and continuing down the hallway, you running after him after fixing the hat.

-

You're watching the news on your phone, still finding it a necessity to see what's happening while you're on a small break so you know what's happening. "This morning twenty two year old Aniya Roxian was found dead in her apartment. The authorities are still-" your mind freezes and your blood runs cold. No. No, Aniya can't be dead. She can't be. You start anxiously scrolling through the article hoping against hope that you heard wrong, but it says it clear as day. Aniya Roxian.

A suffocated sob comes from your throat and out your mouth as the tears immediately start pouring in streams down your face as you burry your face in your pulled up knees, hugging your legs tight to your chest.

"Y/n?" Harrison's voice asks with worry as he climbs up the bed to you from his spot in the desk chair. "Y/n what's wrong?" You don't respond, only hand him your phone with an incredibly shaky hand before going back to weeping for your friend.

It's your fault she's dead you tell yourself, although you know it's not true. Her father had run a smaller mafia and she was for sure a target of at least one person or mob, but you couldn't help but blame yourself.

Harrison immediately knew who the article was about; your friend had been in your files that'd he'd studied with Tom before you moved in. "Come here." He says, holding his arms open which you immediately fall into, not finding any strength to even sit up by yourself.

You're numb. You feel as if you've caused another death of someone you love. First Tyson. Then your parents. Now Aniya. Everyone you love is slowly disappearing due to this fucking business. How will you be able to survive another major loss like this one? You're in pain but your numb, your body turning to ice with a raging fire trapped underneath it.

"It's all my fault." You sob, burying your face in the crook of Harrison's neck, the stream of tears from your face continuing down his shoulder in a river of grief.

"No. Don't say that. Don't you dare blame yourself. She was part of a mafia too. It's not your fault, don't think that." He says sternly, running his fingers through your hair and working away the knots with gentle tugs.

"W-what if you you... What if you d-die too...?" You whimper, your sobs stopping but the waterfall from your eyes staying strong.

"I know what I signed up for when I joined this business. So did you. We both know there's a risk one of us will die, but we're both strong." He replies instead of giving a straight answer, but you can't and won't ponder over that now, to focused on your emotions in the heat of the moment.

"Thank you." You sniff, pulling away slightly so your faces are not even an inch away from each others. "Like I said. I'll always help you." Harrison says with an ever so slight smile. You look into his bright blue eyes, the iris's seeming to gently wave like a body of water. You find an odd calm in staring into his beautiful orbs, watching the blue waves lap up onto an invisible beach. Slowly, you lean forward until your lips are on his, electricity erupting in your face then through the rest of your body sending your mind into a peaceful bliss, all of your attention focused on the feeling of his lips on yours. He nearly immediately returns the kiss, arms going around your waist and pulling you closer as you cup his face with one hand. The kiss is slightly needy as if both of you have been waiting for another chance to kiss the other, but also soft and slow, not to rough to intend anything sexual, it's just right. The small interaction clears the grief, disbelief, and sadness from your thoughts and replace them with a peaceful emptiness, your head empty of all thoughts, your body taking control of your actions.

You only break the kiss when your lungs can no longer suppress the need for air. The two of you stare at each other, lips slightly swollen and eyes filled with adoration as you study each other's features. His perfect lips that seemed to be perfectly made for yours, his crystal blue eyes, his sharp jaw line, the scar running from where his cheekbone meets his nose to the center of his cheek. Your hand goes up to again craddle his cheek, this time your thumb running down the mark. An emotion you're not able to read consumes his eyes as he stares at you, your brows furrowed in concentration. He gently nudges his face more into your hand, a warm feeling filling you and kicking out the guilt that once occupied your stomach from this boy you love having a scar because of you.

Harrison's hand rests on your calf, the other fiddling with a group of strands of your hair while you went back and forth between tracing the scar and rubbing small circles into his cheek. How you got here it doesn't really matter - and to be fair you're entirely fine with forgetting it - but both of you felt strangely calm with the other randomly drawing shapes or tracing lines or playing with their hair. As odd as it sounds, though, it works for both of you so you weren't going to say anything about it.

"How is everyone here's hair curly?" You ask, hand moving from Harrisons cheek to one of his curls that sit atop his head. A light chuckle falls from his mouth, causing a microscoptic smile to form on your face.

Harrison's hand drops your hair from his hand and moves to your face to wipe off your dried tears, warmth sprouting from the spot where his palm cradles your cheek. You copy him and gently push your face more into his hand as if that were possible. Bringing your hands down to your sides, your eyes flutter shut for you're suddenly drastically tired - probably from fighting your own mind to push out the overwhelming sadness of the death of Aniya.

"Tired?" Harrison asks, and even though you can't see you can tell he has a smile painted on his face, the smile that brought light to your darkest days. "Maybe..." You mumble, lips barely parting with your words as if you were just breathing instead of having a conversation. He doesn't say anything more but hands slip under your arms and then lifts your figure up earning a small squeak from you before they lay you onto the mattress, they themselves laying down, pulling the duvet over you both.

"Thanks." You say quietly, shrugging into the warmth of the blanket, for the room was freezing due too there being no heat except that from your bodies. "No problem." Harrison replies, sleepiness evident in his mashed together words and heavy eyes.

You scoot closer to him and wrap your arms around his middle, a tired grin splitting across both of your faces before He drapes an arm over your waist then up your back, pushing gently to move you against him. You oblige without question, your forehead now against his chest while the rest of your face is angled away.

Again you feel protected, like Harrison's embrace can shield you from everything dangerous and horrible thing in the world. Only one other time had you been this close to someone. Tyson

And he feels like he's your guardian with your much smaller body nearly surrounded by his own, your breath lightly fanning onto his skin. His head rests with his chin on top of yours, and after sensing your breathing pattern change he follows, still in disbelief at this unlikely relationship.

-

"Y/n." A voice says pulling you out of a nightmare filled with dead loved ones. You blink your eyes open, fresh tears shedding from your hardly awaken eyes. A sigh of relief falls from the other person's mouth. "You were having a nightmare."

"Y...yeah..." You reply quietly, not knowing how to respond guilt and more embarrassment coursing through you.

"You okay?" They ask, neither of you moving to look at the other, fine with just feeling of the others heart. "... Yeah." You say, ignoring the soundless tears falling onto the bedsheet and instead focusing on Harrison's breathing. A small shudder falls from your quivering lip as you place a feathery kiss to the bottom of his chest before pressing your forehead against the spot and letting your eyes fall shut again.

"Night." You mumble, half asleep but managing to mutter the word. "Good night darling." Haz yawns, his chin pressing into the top of your head before his jaw closes. You sigh in contentment before allowing sleep to take you into it's grasp and hopefully not into another night terror.

-

You wake up into the dimmed room with the sunlight shinning in slightly through the part in the blinds, the golden rays being the only light. Great. You think. The powers still out.

Your eyes go to the figure in front of you, the sound of Harrison's soft and even breathing filling your ears. You press another soft kiss to his skin, him almost immediately waking up at your touch.

"That's a lovely way to wake up." He mumbles, arm moving off of your waist to stretch taking most of his warmth with it. You turn on your back and scooch upwards into a half sitting position so you're head is at the very back of the pillow, Harrison's head next to your chest. "I'll be right back." He sighs before getting up and walking towards the bathroom, a hand running through his hair.

Your eyes again flutter shut, causing you to fall half asleep though your attention is brought back to the world by the sound of something slipping off of the table. Immediately, you sit up and see a hand slowly grabbing your knife, a mouse stealing cheese from a trap. Rage boils through your veins as you snatch it out of the small figures hand and spin them around so their back is pressed against your front with your arms secure around the small shoulders, the side of your knife on their neck but not to hard to draw blood - Yet.

"M'kay do you wanna-" Harrison starts before seeing the situation. "Y/n...? What're you doing with Paddy?"

"He was trying to steal my knife." You hiss, venom drenching your words as you look down at the head of red, his hands holding your forearms to try to pull them down.

"Let's put the knife down..." Harrison says slowly, his hands up as he walks cautiously towards you. "And then let Paddy go."

Slowly, you ease down the knife so you're holding it at your side, but your arm remains around the frightened teen. Harrison makes it to you and, with great difficulty, removes Paddy from your grasp. He nods to him to go, him quickly running out of the room, a gazelle running from lions he narrowly escaped.

"What was that all about?" Haz asks after Paddy's out of earshot.

"He was trying to steal my knife!" You exclaim in defense, setting the blade down and grabbing your rose from the previous day, tucking it neatly behind your ear. "It's kind of my instinct to attack if someone tries to steal my stuff."

"That doesn't seem like something he'd do..." He mumbles, brows furrowing together in thought as he ponders over the actions.

"It's his fault he was attacked." You state with your hands on your hips, pacing back and forth in front of your boyfriend with a pissed off look clear as the fact that the power is out.

"We can figure this out later." He sighs, running a hand through his disheveled curls again. "The power is driving me insane."

"How much longer will we be in the dark?" You ask, brushing through your hair with your fingers and watching your motions in a tall, thin, mirror in his room.

"Who knows. They still haven't figured out what's wrong." He says softly, coming up behind you while wrapping his arms around your waist and setting his chin on your shoulder that doesn't have your hair flung over it. You smile softly and continue to detangle the knots, letting out a small squeak when he pulls you closer to him. The slight smile grows as you reach up, mess up his already messy hair, and go back to your own.

"Hey!" He exclaims, removing one of his hands from your waist to brush his curls out of his eyes. You grin, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. "You'll regret that." Harrison hands reach to your sides and start tickling, causing you to yell out and fold into him, both of your laughter ringing through the air like music to your ears.

"Harrison!" You giggle, the two of you falling onto the floor in a tangle of limbs. His fingers stop moving to make you laugh, instead both of your laughter fades as you stare at each other. Harrison had landed on top of you after you fell and now has one hand on either side of your head to prop himself up. You cradle his face with both of your hands before pulling it down to yours, lips meeting in the middle and moving in sync.

"Hey Haz!" A voice calls out.