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mir-osik · 2 years

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Magic is Here for You and Me - 1

Fandom: Triple Frontier Pairing: Frankie Morales x Fem!Reader Summary: While on vacation with his friends and daughter, a series of unexpected encounters makes Frankie wonder if 'happily ever after' isn't just for fairytales. Wordcount: 12.9k (Don’t look at me LOL) Rating: 18+ Minors DNI (Mostly soft given the nature of the fic, but there will be some spice at some point so just want to set my boundaries now :)) Warnings: children (Charlotte and her relationships with Frankie and the other guys feature heavily in this story so just in case kids aren’t your thing), widower!Frankie, brief mention of death post-pregnancy, mentions of grief, shorter-than-Frankie reader, eventual smut. The TF boys deserve their own warning. Read this if you like: meet-cutes, repeated chance encounters, found family dynamics, three four men and a baby, match-making friends, tooth-rotting fluff, Disney World, vacation romances, and hot men being soft men.

Author’s Note: Takes place some years after the events of TF, there’s a minor discrepancy in when Charlotte was born, but it never comes up in the plot so we’re just going to suspend canon for it :) This is a wholly self-indulgent series and I know it won’t be for everyone. I spent a week at Disney World and saw so many hilarious interactions with children and their dads and ended up being super inspired to create an entire ‘The TF boys take Frankie’s kid to Disney World every year for her birthday’ fic and here we are! So this one’s for my Disney bishes who wish they could meet a Frankie Morales at Disney World :) Thank you in advance if you check this out, it’s my first reader fic and Pedro character fic, and I hope you enjoy it! The title is part of a lyric from the song that plays during the current fireworks show at Magic Kingdom. P.S. Huge shoutout to Ren over at the-ginger-hedge-witch for letting me bother her with all my questions about posting reader fic, warnings, platforms and the like! She’s a gem!

Benny’s Disney World Itinerary: Chapter 1: Disney Springs Chapter 2: Epcot (7/29) Chapter 3: Animal Kingdom Chapter 4: Rest & Recovery Part 1 Chapter 5: Hollywood Studios Chapter 6: Magic Kingdom Chapter 7: Rest & Recovery Part 2 Chapter 8: Epilogue

Disney Springs

Benny has vacation planning for Charlotte Morales’ Disney World Birthday Extravaganza™ pretty much down to a science now, and thank god for it considering how disastrous the first year had been. He’d made the rookie mistake of cramming too much into too short a trip, and had grossly underestimated how much sleeping an infant actually did.

And how cranky four grown men could get, even at the happiest place on earth.

He’s picked up a trick or two over the last few years, like knowing how to cushion for a growing child’s unpredictable moods and naptime schedule, and accounting for the guys’ limits for theme parks and crowds. The end result has evolved into a rather solid itinerary.

The first day in Orlando is easy, it’s always Frankie, Charlotte, and her honorary uncles checking into their resort by late afternoon. After settling in, they head over to Disney Springs — Disney World’s special retail, dining, and entertainment venue — for dinner and a little shopping. The days following are meant for the parks, with a rest day in the middle and one at the end of the trip before the flight home.

If you ask Frankie, the week is a good length of time to get the most out of not just the parks, but the vacation itself. Benny’s figured out the perfect balance of doing stuff and actually relaxing, and there’s no better remedy for all of the stress and responsibility of work and being a single dad, than having the opportunity to do absolutely nothing.

They’re staying at Port Orleans Riverside this time, a first for them, and even he has to admit that Benny did well choosing a resort this year. The lobby is massive, the very picture of extravagance with its opulent period rugs and cherry wood furniture. Walking inside is like being transported directly back in time; he keeps expecting sharply dressed men with top hats and pocket watches tucked into their vests to round the corners, or to see women wearing hoop skirt gowns strolling across the floor, parasols clutched in hand.

It’s silly, because they’re on vacation, but he almost feels underdressed in the faded jeans, gray t-shirt and flip flops he’d worn for the flight. Will lets out a low whistle beside him and Frankie knows without looking that he is sharing the same sentiment as he takes everything in.

Benny comes up behind them, slinging his arms around their shoulders and leaning against them with his sunglasses pushed down to the tip of his nose. The posture of a man entirely pleased with himself.

“Go on, you can say it.”

“Say what?” Frankie asks, feigning ignorance and fighting back the little twitch of the corners of his mouth.

“That I’m amazing.”

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far,” Will replies, eyes dancing with mirth.

Benny is quick, tightening his arm around Will’s neck and snagging him in a playful chokehold. “Are you kidding me? For this? At the rate we got? I’ll remember that next year when I get rooms at the Grand Floridian and your wallet weeps, William.”

Will ducks, twisting out of his brother’s grip and shoving at his shoulder lightly. He chuckles, readjusting the duffle bag on his shoulder and holding his hand up to catch the fist Benny swings in jest in his direction.

Frankie has to give credit where credit is due, though, and he taps the bill of Benny’s hat. “You did good, Ben.”

“Finally, someone who appreciates my efforts. Thank you, Fish.”

“I can’t work under these conditions!” Santiago calls, interrupting them. He’s several feet ahead, trying to wheel his two large suitcases and wrangle Charlotte at the same time. “Let’s go, you slowpokes!”

“Slowpokes! Slowpokes!” she giggles.

She looks like she’s doing her best to either pull Santi towards the General Store or escape the hold he’s got on her hand, Frankie can’t tell which. With Charlotte, it could be either or both.

“Why does he need two suitcases?” Will wonders, staring after them. “We’re only here for a week.”

“I’m actually concerned he only has two,” Benny mutters out the side of his mouth.

Frankie nudges him with his elbow. “What you really need to be concerned about is how long it’s going to take him to unpack.”

Will barks out a laugh at that while Benny throws his head back on an aggravated groan.

“Fucking shit,” he grumbles.

“Come on you, knuckleheads!”

“Yeah, knuckleheads!”

“Hey, watch that mouth, kid,” Frankie warns Charlotte. He gives Benny a sympathetic pat on the cheek before heading towards the check-in line to join her and Santiago.

He notes that the lobby’s ceiling is high and only challenged in grandeur by a large, gleaming chandelier that hangs in the center of it. Despite the hour and the current illuminated state of the lobby, it glows warmly with light. His gaze moves to the white pillars lining the inner part of the floor, eyes tracing the ornate gold accents at the top and the thin lines of gold running down around the columns. Above the pillars, on the architrave, are the names of various Louisiana cities done up in elegant, capitalized letters that he can’t help but read while they wait.

Perhaps the most notable design feature, though, resides even further up, where decorative arch panels hide Mickey-shaped heads in plain sight. He makes sure to point them out to Charlotte, hoisting her up onto his hip when she reaches for him so she can get a better look. The way her face breaks into a grin when she recognizes the iconic silhouette serves as a sweet reminder of why they keep doing these trips.

Adjacent to the lobby entrance, a set of doors leads out onto a pier and a little marina with one dock. They were told that a manmade river runs through the entire resort, connecting it to the Port Orleans French Quarter next door. When they get out there, he sees that its waters are murky and dark, the sunlight catching on the rippling surface and making it glimmer a mysterious blue-black hue.

Automatically, his eyes do a quick scan for gators. It’s unlikely they’ll see any; he knows the resorts have gotten really good about keeping their properties free of them, but he figures it couldn’t hurt just to be safe. He’s been out of active duty for years now, but the instinct to assess potential threats has never really gone away, especially with a small child around. If anything, having Charlotte has only continued to enhance that particular skill set.

The rest of the views are like a scene out of one of Charlotte’s picture books — cloudless blue skies, grassy riverbanks, trees everywhere. Pretty in all its greenness, magical in its tranquility. Impressive, Frankie thinks, and picture perfect.

As if to prove his point, a very large family stops off on one of the bridges above the river, cellphones at the ready. The chaos of attempting to get everyone into frame makes him glad their own group is so small in comparison.

A cool breeze ruffles his hair, drawing his attention to the way it brushes at his cheeks and offsets the heat of the sun. With it, a sugary sweetness permeates the air and has him lifting his nose up for a deeper inhale. The smell is familiar to him — warm, buttery, comforting.

Benny grins at him.

“Beignets,” he sighs, as if the scent alone were enough to satisfy his sweet tooth. He points in the general direction of Riverside’s sister resort. “They’ve got Mickey-shaped ones at French Quarter. We can pop in on Wednesday sometime.”

He tosses a look at Charlotte. “What do you think, Charlie? You want some Mickey beignets?”

“Yeah!” she agrees, nodding enthusiastically.

Frankie’s fairly certain Charlotte has no clue what a beignet is, but he knows that she’s figured out that if her tío Ben is asking, it likely will involve something to her benefit — usually something sweet for them to share.

As they keep making their way down the pier, he glances over to a quaint, brick-red water wheel attached to the end of the main building. He’s never been to the Old South, which is what the resort is meant to mimic, but he’s once again struck by how charmed he is by all the architecture, vegetation and general ambiance of the property.

All the thoughtful little details shouldn’t surprise him. If there’s one thing Disney knows how to do, it’s create an experience.

“Daddy, look!”

Charlie’s little gasp makes his head turn and he catches sight of a cream and blue ferry boat chugging slowly into port. It reminds him that the river serves an additional purpose: providing a water taxi service to Disney Springs. Their resort is the only one with that specific perk, a fact the front desk clerk had made it a point to boast about.

A fact that’s proven to be of extreme interest to Charlotte. She’s already begging for them to take it when they go later, her “Please, please, please, please” combined with her big puppy-dog eyes leaving Frankie and the boys little room to argue or deny her request.

Frankie sighs exaggeratedly, matching her smile and poking at the dimple in her cheek. The twin to his.

“If we must,” he says.

“Yes, Daddy, we must,” she echoes, her serious tone negated by the way she jumps up and down excitedly. “Right, Tío Will?” He’s the closest in proximity to her, so his validation is naturally required.

“That’s right, French Fry, you’re the birthday girl,” Will nods indulgently.

Charlotte catches one of Will’s hands, pleased by his answer. She keeps chattering absentmindedly at him while they walk — pointing out trees and the birds she spots in them, asking if alligators live in the river, when they can go to the pool, and if she can have a Mickey waffle for dinner.

Will is unbothered by her chattiness, he’s got patience for her in spades and is always attentive like she has the most important things to say. Even when it takes her a hundred years to get a sentence out or she repeats the same thing ten times. Frankie shakes his head in amusement, listening in on their conversation while he wheels his and Charlie’s suitcases after them.

The wood beneath their feet soon turns to pavement and rustic-looking buildings with tin roofs begin to come into view. Many of them are tucked off the main walkway, along more winding paths. They’re staying on the bayou side of the resort, so the swamp vibes are accentuated by bald cypress trees hanging over decorative ponds between the buildings.

It wouldn’t be a Disney World trip if they didn’t get lost on at least one wrong turn on the way to the rooms. Especially with Santiago and Benny insisting they each are reading the resort maps more correctly than the other.

“Ben, I’m looking at the map right here, I’m telling you, we have to go that way.”

“Listen old man, I’m looking at the map too and I’m telling you, it’s this way!”

“Can we go over here?” Charlotte asks innocently, smiling up at their scowls and making Will reach around to cover her mouth with his hand, effectively silencing her before she can get herself into any more trouble.

Settling in is a relatively easy endeavor once they finally get to where they need to be, the only one who ever gives them any trouble is Santi. He has a habit of unpacking his suitcase in its entirety in preparation for the week, and it tends to take an hour longer than Benny has the attention span for. With two suitcases this year, Frankie imagines it’ll be twice that.

Once Benny shoves his luggage into the corner of his own room — never to be opened until he’s rushing to get ready the next day — he meanders over to Santi’s to lay face down, spread-eagle on the bed. He lets his displeasure loose, whining into the mattress while the other man organizes his things.

“I’m hungry,” Benny complains, drawing out the vowels on the second word.

“Ben, you’re a grown-up with a wallet, go to the General Store or the food court and grab a snack.”

“It’s not the same!” he huffs, turning his head to watch Santi neatly stack socks, undergarments, and sleep attire inside the drawers.

“If you help me, this would go faster.”

“I would rather be eaten by the crocodile from Peter Pan.”

“Tick-Tock, Tío Benny!” Charlie chimes in.

She likes to be in there during this process too, giggling as she lays across Benny’s back and listening to Santi explain the benefits of putting things in their proper places while on a trip. It’s the same spiel he’s given since the first one they all did four years ago, but Charlotte doesn’t mind.

Even if she doesn’t always grasp the things he tells her, she likes to listen to him talk. She always has, since she was a baby. Frankie can’t even count the number of times he had called his friend in the middle of the night with a screaming infant in the background. His apology wouldn’t even be halfway out of his mouth before Santi would just simply brush it off.

“Put the baby on the phone, Fish, before she makes herself sick.”

He would tell Charlie stories, drowsily building fantastical worlds about whatever came to mind. Princesses. Puppies. Wizards. Anything and everything. Sometimes he’d recount shenanigans the team used to get up to, stupid shit that had Frankie chuckling quietly with nostalgia. Other times he would sing softly to her, Spanish lullabies his mamá sang to him when he was a kid himself, or Frank Sinatra or Etta James — the kid had an ear for the classics.

There were even nights where Santi would just come over, shuffling in wearing his slippers, pjs and bathrobe. He’d look so haggard, eyes bleary and curls sticking up every which way. Wordlessly, he would take Charlotte from Frankie and sit with her in the rocking chair in the nursery, murmuring to her until she calmed down and they both fell asleep exactly where they were.

So when she still seeks him out, eager for the comfort of his voice even after all this time, Frankie knows he’s more than happy to oblige. Santi smiles at her affectionately, and then resumes his unpacking.

Shirts, light sweaters and weather-appropriate jackets are hung up next, coordinated by color on the wall racks. He brings his own pants hangers, of course, and Benny can’t contain his eye roll when Santi pulls them out of his suitcase. Toiletries follow suit, set on the counter in the bathroom before chargers (yes, multiple) are plugged into the outlet near his nightstand. He places an umbrella on the table in the corner just in case, for unexpected rainy days.

Meanwhile, Frankie and Will usually set aside their suitcases for later so they can catch a cab or an Uber to the closest grocery store. They like to stock up on water instead of paying for the inflated prices in the parks, plus Will always insists on grabbing some healthier snack options for Charlie to munch on, rather than giving her park food all day.

By the time they make it back, drop off their haul, and change for dinner, Benny’s dragging Santi out of the room by headlock. The ruckus is only worsened by Charlie latching herself onto Santi’s leg koala-style.

“Mutiny!” Benny yells.

“Mutiny!” Charlie repeats, laughing like a hyena. “Hi, Daddy! Hi, Tío Will! Tío Santi’s our prisoner and we’re pirates of the Carry-bean!”

“Good job, French Fry,” Will grins, shoving his hands in his pockets and rocking back on his heels as he surveys the scene and her handiwork. “Don’t be afraid to use your teeth either, just like I taught you.”

Santi scowls at Will. “Carlota Xiomara Morales, do not bite me! And it’s Caribbean!”

Frankie rolls his eyes at them. There isn’t any heat behind the gesture, but he knows he needs to put an end to this chaos now, otherwise Santi will take Benny to the ground and they’ll wrestle right past their dinner reservation. He makes a show of grabbing Charlie around the waist and throwing her over his shoulder.

“Alright, ye scallywags, it’s time to set sail.”

She giggles some more, kicking her feet while she hangs upside down. It’s an old routine, one she very much delights in, but it gets the point across and the guys all fall in line behind them, their easy banter and laughter following him and Charlotte all the way to the docks.

When they arrive at the venue, it becomes apparent very fast that they’ve picked a busy night to head out there. Even from the docks, he can tell that the music normally playing over the speakers is muffled by the chatter of the crowd. There’s so many people, it almost feels like a park in and of itself.

If he had known it was going to be this lively, he might have suggested staying in for the evening and just ordering a pizza, but he knows the first night dinner is the only opportunity he’ll have to acclimate to the crowds and energy unique to Disney World. The frazzled parents and rowdy children, the bright-eyed first-timers and the seasoned annual pass holders, the obscenely long waits for everything — it can be a lot at times, and he always prefers to ease his way into the trip rather than diving in headfirst.

After they disembark, Frankie takes a second to bundle Charlie into a Haunted Mansion sweater, a thoughtful early birthday gift from Will’s best friend, Jasmine. It’s bright purple with the hitchhiking ghosts screen printed on the front in black and Charlotte absolutely loves it. He already has his doubts that he’ll be able to get her to wear anything else the rest of the week.

She holds her arms up when he’s finished, silently asking to be picked up, and it makes his heart ache sweetly in his chest. He knows these moments will fade away soon enough, so he always makes it a point to treasure them at every opportunity.

He scoops her into his arms and settles her against his hip, pressing his lips absentmindedly to her cheek. She reaches up to rub at the spot where he kissed her, where his scruff likely tickled, and he smiles at the way her nose scrunches up at him.

“Can I have a cookie now?” she asks, giving him that doe-eyed look she knows he can’t resist.

“If you finish your dinner.”

They’re working on compromising.

“Okay,” she sighs, and her pout looks so much like his, he wants to laugh.

“Okay,” he agrees, then, whispering conspiratorially, “But I bet you could get your tío Santi to get you that Little Mermaid bubble wand over there.”

He tilts his head towards the shop they’re coming up on and Charlie’s eyes light up like the Grinch before he steals Christmas. She wiggles to get down and Frankie chuckles softly as he watches her skip over to Santiago. Santi’s head tips towards her when she approaches, and from the smile on his face, Frankie knows he’s already wrapped around Charlotte’s finger before her hand even slips into his.

They're still early for their reservation at the restaurant that Will’s picked, so once they’ve secured Charlie’s bubble wand, they continue taking their time heading over there. The shops haven’t changed too much over the years, but there’s several they still frequent every visit. It doesn’t take long for Frankie’s mood to shift. It’s easy to be affected by that buzz in the air, the kind that only Disney magic can create, and he can’t deny that he’s already starting to unwind and enjoy himself.

Benny’s had a lot of idiotic ideas in his life, but scheduling that surprise first trip none of them had wanted to go on, forcing them to do it anyway, and turning it into an annual thing is definitely one of his better ones.

By the time dinner finally rolls around, Frankie is famished. Their group ends up in the outdoor seating area of an Irish restaurant and pub called, ‘Ragland Road.’ The table is a little cozy for five, making it difficult to get all the plates situated; he keeps knocking elbows with Will and confusing his and Santi’s drinks, but all of that is easy to ignore when the atmosphere is so homey and comfortable.

There’s a live band in the middle of a set playing a song he doesn’t know. The beat is cheerful in a folkish, knee-slapping way, and his lack of familiarity doesn’t stop him from tapping his foot along while he eats. When he catches Charlie wiggle-dancing in her seat as she takes a bite of potato cake Santi offers to her, he smiles at the sight.

The food is delicious and judging by the nearly finished state of the other plates around the table, the others would agree. Even Charlotte eats most of her meal, a huge feat to say the least, and he deems it another win for the Miller brothers. Between the resort and the restaurant, the trip is off to a great start.

Early into the evening, one of the staff had turned on the heat lamps strategically placed between tables, helping to ward off the nighttime chill. Frankie shed his jacket a while ago, having been warmed further by his meal and the beer he had as an accompaniment. He’s pushed his chair back a little, too, sliding down his seat so he can lean back and stretch his legs, take the pressure off his stomach.

He can tell the day’s catching up to him. Travel fatigue, in combination with being full and content, begins to weigh on his shoulders and make his mind feel a little sluggish, like he’s watching everything from behind a fog.

A bed sounds nice, and so does sleep for that matter, but the guys are chatty tonight and many years of experience has taught him that they’ve got at least another hour in them before calling it a day. He doesn’t mind too much; he’s happy just to sit and listen to them trade stories and laughs over another round of drinks.

They reminisce about the old days and catch up on life, not an unusual occurrence for them as they do this already at least once a week. The result of a camaraderie forged in military service and a brotherhood kept long after retirement.

There are dinners and weekend BBQs, random visits throughout the week. Hell, even game nights if Benny can get them drunk enough. Sometimes evenings at the local dive bar, so long as Frankie can find a sitter. Still, despite the regular meetups, it’s nice to be in a different setting and away from the ‘everyday’ of their lives for once.

“Daddy, I want to go on the balloon ride!”

Charlotte’s voice cuts through his thoughts, reminding him of the hot air balloon they’d seen earlier on their way to the restaurant. It’s been a number of years that they’ve been coming out here, but they have yet to actually ride it.

“Sorry, kid,” Santi tells her, tugging playfully on one of her curls. “The balloon ride is already closed. How about we finish coloring-”

“I don’t want to color anymore!”

Her pitch is one octave away from tantrum levels and Frankie frowns.

“Charlotte.”

She pauses for a second, contemplates the warning tone in his voice and knows she’s toeing quite closely to a reprimand. She ends up huffing anyway, “Well, I don’t!”

It surprises him, the way she snaps back, and it takes him a second to regroup.

“Alright,” he replies slowly, calmly. “That’s fine. You don’t have to color anymore if you don’t want to. But we can say that without yelling at people, okay?”

“That right, French Fry,” Will chimes in. “Sometimes if you yell at people, it can hurt their feelings, and you don’t want to hurt Santi’s feelings, do you?”

She eyes the both of them stubbornly, bottom lip poking out in a pout. He can see the way her mind is weighing out the repercussions of whatever she decides to say next and it simultaneously terrifies him and fills him with so much pride witnessing how clever and astute she is even at her young age. Eventually she shakes her head and Frankie runs his hand soothingly down her hair.

“I bet Santi would feel better if you said ‘sorry’ to him. What do you think?”

Charlotte turns her head towards Santiago, who is doing a terrible job of trying to conceal his smile. He breaks as soon as she lifts her arms and wraps them around his neck, leaning down to draw her tighter against him.

“Sorry,” she mumbles.

“For?” Frankie prompts.

“For yelling.”

Santi presses a kiss to her temple and pats her comfortingly on the back. “You’re alright, pescadito. Thank you for apologizing, that’s very good manners.”

She’s tired, he mouths to Frankie, resting his cheek on her head when she keeps close.

He gets it, travel days are difficult enough as it is for regular adults and he imagines they’re even worse for tiny humans. Plus, there’s only so much coloring a kid can do on their placemat before they start getting antsy. But now that she’s gotten a little older and her attention span has gotten shorter, he’s started to notice that his sweet little girl is becoming a bit of a pint-sized demon.

When Charlie peeks out from her hiding spot in Santi’s neck, Benny beckons her over to him with a few crooks of his finger.

“Carlota, mi tesoro,” he sing-songs.

Frankie smiles at that. Benny’s accent is terrible beyond belief, but Frankie appreciates the effort he and Will have been putting in to learn Spanish in their free time.

Charlotte’s sad little pout transforms almost immediately as her tío Ben takes her hand. He gets up to twirl her beside the stage with the band’s latest tune playing in the background. Out of all of them, Benny’s always been the best at being able to redirect an impending meltdown and getting some of that energy out. Probably because he has it in equal measure.

The knot loosens in his chest with the situation effectively diffused. Her tantrums don’t happen all the time, thankfully, but when they do, they’re definitely not fun for either of them. While he’s doing his best to parent her through this new stage in her development, he’s finding it more challenging than he anticipated.

He’s never been more grateful that he’s got extra sets of hands to help him with Charlotte than during moments like these with the guys having his back. Teaching her, guiding her, loving her as deeply as he does. Loving her as if she were their own. It truly takes a village.

Frankie grins watching Benny and Charlotte together. Her dark hair fans out around her as she spins under his arm again, and the dimple in her cheek deepening with her smile is only further sweetened by her joy. He can feel his heart light up with her bright peals of laughter and he hopes that she always feels like this: carefree, happy, cherished. That’s all he could ever want for her.

As the night winds down, and Charlotte’s energy finally begins to wane, she climbs into Frankie’s lap to snuggle into his chest. Her little cheek presses right over his heart and the easy way she makes herself comfortable against him makes him sigh happily. He’s only half-listening to Santi chat about a woman he met at a bar recently. It’s decidedly inappropriate conversation for a five year-old anyway, so he’s glad Charlie picked that moment to fall asleep.

Her breathing evens out despite Benny’s antics and boisterous teasing over Santi’s taste in women. Or rather, the kind of women often attracted to him.

Frankie rests his hand reflexively over the back of his daughter’s head when Benny laughs again. The gesture soothes him as much as it’s meant to soothe her and keep her with her dreams.

When he glances up, he catches Will watching them, the other man’s smile soft around his eyes. Will leans forward slightly, lifting his hand to rub his thumb over a smear of chocolate on Charlie’s cheek.

Frankie brushes a kiss across her brow, taking in the sight of the guys around the table. They’ve been just this way hundreds of times before, hundreds more since Charlotte had come into their lives. It’s an image that is comforting in its familiarity, safe in its constancy, and he feels incredibly blessed to be celebrating another year of his daughter’s life in her favorite place, with all her favorite people. Mainly because they’re his too.

“One hundred dollars she tells you she misses you before the week is up,” Benny tells Santi, pointing a finger at him.

“She’s not like that,” Santi argues, throwing one of the leftover fries from Charlotte’s plate at his head.

Benny ducks out of the way at the last second but Santi is anticipating him and reaches over to flick his finger against Benny’s forehead when his lean puts him within striking distance. Benny swears under his breath, swatting Santi’s hand away playfully.

“She’s sweet,” Santi continues. “But she’s got her own things going on, you know? And thank god for that.”

“I don’t know, man, you’ve got a history.”

“What do you mean, ‘a history?’ A history of what, Ben?” Santi doesn’t snap, but his eyebrows pinch together with the question.

Benny looks to Will and Frankie for back-up, a habit ingrained from their days in the field, and gestures at Santi.

Frankie merely shakes his head and laughs quietly. “Ohh, no, no, no, no. Nope. I’m staying out of this one.”

Will shrugs beside him, and Frankie’s brow lifts in surprise as their eyes meet. It’s obvious that Will’s feeling loose-tongued tonight, and unafraid of the consequences; his smirk is all mirth as he raises his beer to his mouth for another sip.

“What Ben’s trying to say is that you’ve got a history, Pope…” Will claps Benny on the back as if to reiterate the point. “Of dating stage five clingers.”

Santi is unfazed by that assessment, however, and he doesn’t miss a beat as he leans back and rests his hands on the back of his head. “Well, when the dick is just that good-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Frankie’s response is immediate and protesting as he covers Charlie’s ear with one of his hands.

Will chokes on his beer, moving forward to let the fizzy liquid drip down onto the floor instead of all over him while he laughs through a coughing fit. Frankie, ever in dad mode, holds out a napkin to him with his free hand, glaring at Santi all the while. Benny just groans, dunking his fingers in his water glass before shaking the droplets at the older man.

“Hey, man,” Frankie chastises. “This is a family establishment!”

“Family establishment!” Santi says, his eyes positively gleaming. He shifts and holds his hand out towards Charlie. “She’s asleep! She’s not gonna know!”

“Yeah, but the kids at the next table have ears, pendejo, and so do their parents!”

Frankie has a couple more choice words for him in Spanish that make Santi snort with laughter but he holds his hands up in surrender.

“Alright, alright, alright. For the sake of little ears, we’ll keep it clean.”

It takes them another minute to all settle down again, the last bits of jesting and laughter filling the air. Once they do, Santi suddenly turns serious, and his gaze falls to him and Charlie. He nods at Frankie when Frankie’s eyebrow arches up questioningly.

“Hey, what about you, Fish, huh?”

He stills, eyeing his friend carefully. “What about me?”

Santi’s shrug is casual but Frankie knows him better than that.

“You think you’re ever gonna get back out there again?”

“Out where?” He keeps his tone nonchalant, his posture relaxed despite feeling his hands beginning to grow damp.

“We know you’re not that dense, in the dating pool,” Benny speaks up, reaching across Santi to pilfer one of the uneaten pickles off Charlie’s plate and grinning like a pirate.

Frankie wrinkles his nose at that, inhaling deeply while he thinks on his answer. Truthfully, with Charlotte getting older, the thought may have crossed his mind a few times. Albeit very fleetingly and far between.

He reaches up, rubbing at his bottom lip with his thumb and attempting to mask his anxiety behind the casual gesture. “Honestly, I don’t know, man. I’ve been so focused on Charlotte, it hasn’t been a priority.”

Benny whistles lowly in response and Frankie’s eyes drop to the table, his composure threatening to fissure under the combined weight of their attention. His emotional wounds begin to ache at the seams, dull yet insistent despite the many years he’s had to heal, and he wonders if he even ever really did. After his wife’s unexpected and tragic passing, his whole world has been nothing but his little girl and he’s just…never needed more than that. Never allowed himself to look beyond that.

“I mean, it’s fine. We’re doing okay just the two of us, I think.”

“Yeah, but how long has it been? Don’t you have…needs?” Benny wonders, eyebrows arching suggestively.

“Jesus Christ, Ben,” Frankie grimaces, feeling his face warm at the sudden scrutiny of his personal life. “Look, I’m not celibate if that’s what you’re asking!”

Will chucks his crumpled up napkin at Benny’s head. “Why you so interested in Fish’s sex life, huh?”

“Yeah, is your own a little lacking there, Ben?” Santi retorts with a snicker.

Benny, predictably, rises to the occasion, defensive and boasting about his own recent conquests. Frankie’s grateful for the redirection of the conversation, but with the truth laid bare and now at the forefront of his mind, he finds himself distracted from the rest of their heckling.

Sure, there’s been the occasional fling here and there, some one night stands just to scratch the itch, but nothing ever serious, and certainly not serious enough to disrupt Charlie’s life with.

Besides, Frankie’s grown quite comfortably into this version of his life without romantic love. He’d had to pivot in a way he’d never imagined, from husband and new father in one breath, to widower and single dad in the next. His entire world had plunged into a tailspin, and he’d nearly lost himself in the turbulent spiral of his shock and incomprehensible grief.

There had been many days where he just didn’t know how he was going to make it, where trying to balance the loss of her with raising their newborn child was too much to bear. She was his match, the love of his life, his partner in every way, and the abrupt absence of her had been debilitating, his heartbreak suffocating. He could never seem to catch his breath, choking on the air trapped in his lungs until they started to burn, until they felt near exploding, and even then, simply enduring.

Anything could set him off: seeing her toothbrush in the holder next to his, realizing he poured two cups of coffee in the morning instead of one, her favorite song on the radio. Even Charlotte smiling for the first time. That was perhaps the most difficult, all the little things and all the big things she’d missed and would continue to miss where their daughter was concerned.

But even in that darkness, even with all that despair, the light had always been Charlotte. She could steady him with a look, ground him with the grasp of her tiny hand around his finger, soothe him by simply needing him in the ways that infants need someone to care for them. To be fed, changed, held, loved.

And so he did.

And bit by bit she’d forced him to piece the broken shards of himself together. It hadn’t been easy and some of the pieces never really fit back properly, the remaining shapes made too small by his unending pain or too big by his lingering rage, but what had remained of himself he’d simply given wholly to her. He’d endeavored to be the kind of father she deserved, the kind of man her mother would have been proud of.

Some days it almost felt wrong to keep living the way that they had, to keep having those little slivers of happiness — her first steps, her first birthday, her first word (“dada”) — when half of Frankie’s heart was missing. He knows that’s what she would have wanted, but it never made it any easier.

There’s a bittersweet ache in his chest now, soothed only mildly by their daughter’s weight against him. He rarely speaks her name aloud anymore, but he still thinks of her everyday.

Time has stolen so much from him, though. It’s just…the shape of her in his memory now. An image no longer as crisp or clear as it once had been, the tangibility of her — her smell, her touch, her voice — all things he can barely remember anymore. But she still exists in other ways.

Snapshot moments in his mind, seconds of the life they once shared. Her smile the first time he tried to flirt with her. Her eyes welling with tears when he slipped her wedding band onto her finger. The way her nose crinkled when she laughed too hard. How pretty she looked in his t-shirts with her lips kiss-swollen and hair all mussed from his fingers.

She hated folding clothes even though she didn’t mind washing them.

She liked paperbacks over hardcovers, but disliked creased spines.

She played Sudoku like a champ.

She used to order onion rings as the side with her burger despite preferring fries because he liked onion rings more. His own were never enough, and he didn’t figure that out until after she was gone.

He thinks back to Santi’s question again, turning it over and over in his mind. The answer remains elusive, and perhaps it always would be. But that’s probably for the best.

He’s already experienced a big, big love once, and maybe once is all he gets. Maybe once will just have to be enough.

It would save him some disappointment, at least. Preemptively stave off any potential heartbreak — not just his, but Charlie’s as well. He couldn’t put them through something like that again. Not after everything they’ve been through.

He glances around at the table again, rubbing a hand over Charlie’s back. He’s not even sure what the guys are talking about anymore, but their laughter feels like a salve for his reopened wounds. So does Charlotte’s quiet snores.

And if this is all he gets for the rest of his life, this brotherhood, this camaraderie and family, and the generous love of his kid…he could be okay with that, he thinks.

Later, as they’re headed back to the resort for the night, Santi elbows him lightly in the ribs to get his attention and he turns his head towards his friend.

“Hey, about earlier,” Santi says quietly, just between the two of them. “Sorry if we overstepped.”

Frankie shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it, Pope, it’s fine.”

“For what it’s worth, Fish, you and that kid deserve the world, and whatever that means for you, whatever that looks like, we’re always gonna have your back.”

“But?”

“What do you mean ‘but,’ there’s no ‘but.’”

“With you, Pope, there is always a ‘but,’” he smiles.

Santi rolls his eyes at him. “Alright, but…”

He trails off, inhaling deeply. Instinctively Frankie braces for the blow.

“You deserve a second chance at love. Juliana would want that for you.”

Santi shrugs then, clapping him lightly on the back. The gesture is meant to be casual, but Frankie feels the pressure of it all the same, just as he feels the heaviness of hearing Juliana’s name spoken out loud. A punch to the gut that has his hold tightening around Charlotte’s small frame.

“You’re a good dad and a good man, and some women find you easy on the eyes, though I can’t imagine why-”

Frankie reaches out with his fist, knocking Santiago lightly against his jaw and making him laugh as he maneuvers out of reach.

“I’m just saying, you’ve got a lot of stuff going for you still. It couldn’t hurt to see what’s out there! You might be surprised.”

Frankie hums noncommittally at the advice, adjusting his daughter in his arms as they approach the buses meant to shuttle them back to the resort.

“Yeah, maybe someday,” he mumbles, more for Santi’s benefit than his.

But he couldn’t have known that maybe that day was closer than he realized.

You love Disney World, truly, you do. But it’s almost criminal that there’s this many people at Disney Springs on a Monday night. Particularly during what should have been one of the least busiest weeks to go. It’s well after the holiday rush of Christmas and New Year’s but it doesn’t appear like everyone’s gotten the memo.

Bus after bus comes to take people back to their resorts and your little group of four frustratingly continues to end up on none of them. The line is moving, though. You can tell simply because eventually you’ll realize you’re in a different place in it than you were ten minutes ago.

Closer to the front, but somehow still not close enough to get on an actual shuttle. It imitates a park ride wait so perfectly, like an adult version of ‘Are we there yet?’ except you are both the impatient child and the irritated parent.

Disney magic at its finest.

“Is there a single rider option for this?” Your best friend, Taylor, mutters under her breath from her place behind you.

The question makes your mouth twitch at the corners, but as another bus pulls away from the curb, and another round of disappointed sighs and quiet grumbling goes up through the crowd, you can’t help but agree with the sentiment. At this point, you wouldn’t mind standing so long as you actually get back to the resort soon. Tomorrow is your first day in the parks and you and your friends are all eager to shower the day off before going to bed and resting up.

There’s little else to do while you wait for the next ride so you reach into your bag for your phone to check the time. You have to plan for tomorrow, calculate exactly how many hours you have until you have to get up. The number determines your sleep schedule and whether you do the long or shortened version of your nighttime routine, especially because you still have to decide on an outfit and allot time for getting ready in the morning. Oh, and making a coffee and breakfast run.

Your fingers dig around inside the purse, brushing against crumpled receipts, a tube of lip balm, and a small bottle of hand sanitizer before you frown.

Huh. That’s weird.

You grasp the bag, pulling it further in front of you so you can actually see while you’re rifling through it. Every item you know to be in there is mentally checked off as you touch each one: wallet, passport, some loose change from when you paid cash for a water bottle at the airport convenience store, dinner and shopping receipts, lip balm, sanitizer.

Everything is all accounted for; everything, that is, except your phone.

“Shit,” you mutter.

The panic hits you quick and sharp. You try to tamper the feeling down but it’s too late, you’re already on edge and the way your stomach clenches tells you that you’re spiraling fast. This is the very last thing you need on the first day of your trip, your mind racing with thoughts of fraudulent charges, emptied bank accounts, and scam emails being sent to your entire address book.

And what the hell are you going to do if you need to have all your cards canceled while you’re out here?

One of your other friends, Sasha, gives you a quizzical look as you start patting yourself down. Your movements are frantic, hands flitting between your jacket pockets, jean pockets and back on a second pass just to be sure.

“You okay?” she wonders, her voice concerned.

Your eyes flit downwards in a frenzied scan across the pavement as you search between people’s feet on the off-chance you may have simply dropped it. But then in your periphery you catch sight of a young boy just as he drops a piece of chocolate. It lands by his shoe and he’s quick to lean down for it, but his mother’s reflexes are quicker. She grabs onto his arm before he can take it back and attempt to put it in his mouth.

Shit. The Ganachery.

You can see it so clearly in your mind, how you’d been taking photos of the chocolate in the displays before setting your phone down on the counter when one of the employees came by and offered a sample. Absentminded and careless and entirely your mistake.

“I left my phone at The Ganachery,” you sigh, the sound frustrated and grouchy as your fingers press into your temple where you can feel a headache starting to brew.

“What?” Taylor leans over your shoulder, her ears ever sharp. Automatically, her gaze drops to the ground as well. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I don’t have it.”

“You checked your pockets? What about your jacket? Your bag?”

She means well, logically you know this, but there’s nothing more irritating when you’re on the verge of a minor crisis than someone trying to tell you to do the things you’ve already done. Another agitated sigh escapes between your lips.

“I have to go back,” you announce, wasting no time unclipping one of the ropes helping to designate the boarding line for the buses so you can slip out of line.

Reese, the fourth in your friend group, pokes her head out from behind Sasha’s. Her phone already tucked to her ear, no doubt attempting to call yours.

“I’ll go with you, so you don’t have to be alone on the way back.”

You wave her off. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll be quick. I’ll meet y’all back in the room!”

But Reese is insistent, saying your name in protest.

“Seriously, it’s okay! Just save me some hot water!” you tease, hoping your easy tone placates her.

She cups her hands around her mouth so her voice carries and you don’t miss the instruction. “Fine, but text when you find it and are on your way back!”

You give her a thumbs up before you turn, speed walking out of sight and back into Disney Springs. In all the years that you’ve been coming out here, you’ve never lost anything once, let alone something as important as your phone. It’s hard not to beat yourself up over it, your anxiety a heavy weight in your stomach as you make your way against the flow of traffic.

There’s a startled ‘Oof!’ that reaches your ears when you inadvertently bump into someone, but it does little to slow you down. All you can manage is a hurried ‘Sorry!’ while you breeze by. You miss the way they turn after you when you go, only left with the vague sense that you’d run into some guy in a hat holding a kid. Oh well, fingers crossed he’d at least heard your apology.

Your frayed nerves only begin to calm once the shop’s sign finally comes into view, and it pushes you to jog the last few steps, bursting through the double door entrance in dramatic fashion. The irresistible scent of sweetened cocoa slams into you, but it’s the looks from the employees and other customers that stop you in your tracks.

“Hi,” you greet the person behind the register, the word breezy and rushed as it trips out of your mouth. You recognize them, but aren’t sure if they recognize you. “Sorry, I was just in here about fifteen minutes ago with my friends. Did you happen to find a-”

“Phone?” The device is held up in their hand with a cheerful smile.

“Yes. Thank you so much!” Your shoulders sag with immediate relief. “You’re a lifesaver!”

“No problem, I was hoping you’d notice before you went back to your resort. Your friend called to let us know you were on your way to grab it.”

You cringe with mild embarrassment while you approach the register and your phone gets passed to you. Of course Reese did, she is notorious for being the ‘Mom friend’ of the group.

“Have a good night!” they say cheerfully, waving goodbye at you.

With your phone safely clutched to your chest, you back into one of the doors and push it open with your hip to leave. Now that you’ve caught your breath and the adrenaline is slowly working its way out of your system, your walk back to the shuttles is at a much more leisurely pace.

You notice the crowd has thinned out some since you had come through just minutes before, and that only the last stragglers looking to close out Disney Springs remain. You figure they’re staying to either make the night last just a little longer or wait for a less cramped ride back to their resorts. If you weren’t looking to catch some extra sleep, you might have entertained the latter yourself.

To your surprise, the boarding area for the Port Orleans resorts is much less crowded than when you had left earlier too. After you’ve shuffled your way back into line, you predict that the likelihood of you actually getting to sit for the ride back is looking pretty good, and though that comfort is merely just a little thing, sometimes the little things make all the difference.

You pick a seat near the front as you enter, planning ahead for easy access to an exit when it’s time to get off later, and busy yourself with your phone while you wait for other passengers to board and settle in.

The group chat is popping, 67 messages waiting for you as indicated by the red bubble on the top corner of your app. It’s mostly the other girls sharing photos from the day, with the occasional snarky text about Sasha’s horrible photography skills and Taylor’s obsession with food aesthetic photos.

You skim the rest of the messages, making a mental note to add your own photos later and to look at and save all the others at some point. At the bottom, Reese’s ‘Are you on your way back?’ is waiting for you and you let them know that you’re on the bus now and will be at the resort soon. A series of messages come in rapid-fire succession.

Sasha Vasiliev Be safe!

Reese Fraser Don’t talk to strangers!

Taylor Crawford Absolutely talk to strangers if they’re cute!

You shake your head at their antics, but the way your mouth curves up betrays your amusement. You’re just about to respond when a deep voice cuts through your thoughts.

“Guess it’s standing room only.”

It’s honey-sweet and slow as molasses, and when it hits your ears, you glance up without thinking.

Piercing blue eyes the color of seaglass meet your gaze, and then the owner of them smiles. You blink in surprise as you take in the rest of him, as you are caught off guard by his blatant attractiveness. ‘Hollywood Handsome,’ Taylor would say, with his dimpled smile and perfectly disheveled sandy-blonde hair that’s just edging towards brown.

His eyes light up at your expression and you don’t miss the way he gives you a flirtatious once-over.

“Hi,” he greets — all of the charm he can muster in that singular word — and slows his gait as he moves past you.

Oh, here we go.

Your own smile is small, polite, but you don’t say anything back, not wanting to encourage him.

The man behind him claps him on the back, drawing your attention and making you start. He’s older — if the silver woven through his dark hair and beard is any indication — and about half a foot shorter but no less striking.

Although ‘striking’ doesn’t seem to be a big enough word. Not for the classical angles of his face or dimples in his cheeks that have turned to creases with age. Not for his sharp eyes, rich like dark mahogany wood, or the crinkles at the corners of them.

He gives his companion a light push towards the middle of the bus where there’s space to stand.

“Leave the pretty girl alone, Ben,” he says, winking at you.

“What? I was just saying ‘hi,’' Ben replies.

He sounds innocent enough, but you’re not entirely convinced. Apparently, neither is his friend.

“Mmhmm, sure you were.”

After Ben moves as far in as he’s able, he turns and leans against one of the bars flanking the steps to the elevated seats in the back. One of his hands is full of shopping bags, the other slides into one of the pockets of his jeans, and his feet cross at the ankles while he waits for the bus to finish loading. It speaks to his confidence, how comfortable he is in his skin. The kind of man who takes up space not because he can — or should, or wants to — but because he just does.

He never drops his head, his posture, or his gaze for that matter, and as if on cue, it sweeps briefly over to you again. He beams when he catches you watching him and he gives you a little nod in acknowledgement, a little wiggle of his eyebrows with that relaxed smile.

You look away, electing to ignore his easy affection. Connecting with a random guy during vacation isn’t at the top of your priority list, regardless of if it’s just a little harmless flirting. There’s only three f-words you’re here for: food, fun, and friends.

Speaking of friends, a quick scroll through social media shows that the girls have already started posting some of the photos from the group chat. You distract yourself with them, examining each post and liking them as you go.

You’re just about to comment on one when past the side of your phone, you see a man’s boot-clad feet step into the space in front of you. You groan inwardly, preparing to tough out the bus ride with a stranger’s crotch in your face. He doesn’t move, though, keeps his hip to you and you’re grateful that he at least has the manners and decency not to angle himself in your direction. You keep your eyes averted anyway.

“Daddy?” a little girl asks sleepily.

The sound comes from directly above you.

“Yeah, baby?” he murmurs.

“I wanna sit.”

It’s not a whine, but it may as well be.

“Sorry, mijita, we gotta stand for now. Just for a bit, okay?”

“No,” she answers. “I wanna sit.”

Oh, you know that tone. You’ve been around Disney World kids long enough to recognize when a tantrum is impending, and realizing there will be no opportunity for escape due to proximity, you brace yourself for the full force of her inevitable outburst.

“You want me to take her?” you hear another man offer. He’s standing beside him, just to the right of you.

It takes everything in you not to look up and watch the scene unfold. Apart from it being impolite, you can already sense the stress and embarrassment from the dad. The last thing the poor guy needs is another pair of eyes on him.

“No, it’s alright, I’ve got her,” he answers.

He whispers to her in Spanish, too low for you to really hear, but instinctively you know it’s meant to calm her down just by the soothing timbre of his voice.

“Papá!” she grumbles, a few octaves higher now.

“Carlota,” he tsks.

And oh, you know that tone, too.

“There’s no place to sit. I’m sorry but we have to stand. It’s just for fifteen minutes-”

“I’m tired.”

You can make out the exhaustion in her voice as well as the frustration over not getting her way, and you feel for the kid. Big feelings for a little person; though you know not everyone will be as understanding. Or as patient.

That’s the only thing you hate about Disney World’s transportation service. It’s complimentary, yes, and hugely convenient for getting around their massive property, but making people stand and cramming the bus to breathing room only, is a bit excessive and torturous for people to have to endure. Little ones especially.

“I know, Charlotte,” he sighs. “You hang on to me and go back to sleep-”

“I wanna sit now!”

The words explode out of her, sudden and shrill, making the bus go abruptly quiet as all of the air is sucked out of the small space.

And then the waterworks start — deep, howling wails that pierce your ears and go straight to your head. You wince inwardly and take a peek up at her dad.

Your first thought, humiliatingly, is: holy hell because you certainly weren’t expecting the little zing of attraction that jolts down your spine just from the sight of his profile.

Your second thought, more appropriately, is: how can I diffuse this situation?

On a whim, you tap him lightly on the arm while he continues to try to pacify his child. His head jerks at the contact, turning towards your direction with an expression that can only be described as equal parts shame and dread. It looks out of place on his handsome face.

He stills when he sees you, regarding you with his deep, deep brown eyes. There’s a flicker of something in them, too quick for you to really discern. Then his whole demeanor softens apologetically, apprehensively, as if he is expecting a confrontation and dreading it. The fact that this would be his first reaction makes your insides warm with empathy.

“Hi,” you start, beginning to rise from your seat.

He shuffles away to give you a little more space to move, rocking his child all the while. She hasn’t stopped crying so you make sure to raise your voice a little in order to be heard over her.

“Forgive me for eavesdropping but…you’re welcome to have my seat.”

He blinks at you, mouth falling slightly open. “What?”

“It’s not a big deal, I’m happy to stand.”

You give him your most friendly smile and hope your voice sounds cheerful despite its volume. But his head shakes resolutely.

“No, Miss, please, I can’t let you do that-”

“Really, I insist! I mean, we’re about to head out so…” you trail off, gesturing at the bus driver sliding into his own chair.

You smile again — disarming, encouraging. He continues to look horrified at your suggestion, but between his screaming kid, the irritated looks of the other passengers, and the time he doesn’t have to argue properly, there’s really no other option than to do as you’ve offered.

Maneuvering around you is a little bit of an awkward shuffle, bodies bumping and brushing despite the attempts at propriety in such close quarters. You try not to think about how there seems to be so much of him, just…tall, broad, man tangled up in your space. Eventually he gets to where he needs to, and eases down onto the bench.

It’s a tight squeeze for the width of his shoulders between the other two passengers who had been on either side of you, but he manages to make it work. You have the fleeting thought that Taylor would rate him a ‘15/10 Hot Dad’ on that feature alone. Shamelessly, you might be inclined to agree.

At least in the privacy of your mind.

Almost immediately, his daughter’s crying abates. Her sniffles and occasional hiccups are the only remaining evidence of her outburst. She snuggles deeper into his chest, cheek laying over his shoulder, one of her hands clutching the front of his shirt.

She’s a cutie — cherub-cheeked, with curling chestnut-colored hair and a sweet little button-nose. Her eyes match his, and they’re already starting to droop, heavy with sleepiness.

“Thank you,” he says, and you can tell he’s sincere in his gratitude by the intent way he stares up at you and oh boy.

You don’t know how it’s possible to feel a look, but you feel that one. All the way down to your fingers and toes you feel it.

“You’re welcome,” you answer softly, swallowing the lump that’s suddenly formed in your throat.

Without a fussy child between you, distracting you, your attention turns to other things. Like the scruff along the sharp line of his jaw, and the neatly trimmed mustache sitting under a prominent nose. The facial hair’s a good look on him, you think; it saves him from appearing too baby-faced. He’s got a baseball cap on his head that is doing a horrible job of containing all of his wavy brown hair, but that’s a good look on him too.

It’s the eyes that really get you, though — kind and soulful, warm like smoky quartz.

You glance away when your skin starts to tingle, in need of respite from the full-force of his attention. It’s just your luck that his attention is replaced by his companion’s, the one who asked if he needed a hand with his kid earlier. Blonde-haired, blue-eyed, rugged.

He has a full beard, hair almost down to his shoulder with half of it pulled back into a messy knot. He’s got a way about him that’s unnervingly intimidating; it contrasts with the gentle smile on his face, the cute braid that starts at his temple and is tucked back into the tie, and you can’t help but stare in bewilderment at him.

It would appear you are four for four on meeting gorgeous men tonight. Must be something in the water.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” you reply back, suddenly shy. He makes you feel like you need to fill the space with something other than his considering look but nothing will come to mind.

“Next stop, Port Orleans!” the driver abruptly calls out, pulling your thoughts away and saving you from continuing your awkward exchange with him.

There’s about a half second lag before the doors all close with a loud hiss and the driver hits the gas, making the bus jerk aggressively away from the curb. You grasp onto the strap dangling above your head as a reflex, but horrifyingly, you have no time to brace yourself.

The sharp movement disrupts your balance and you pitch forward with a sharp gasp — straight into Hot Dad — and the only thing stopping you from smashing your boobs into his face is the grip you manage to get on his shoulder, and his own steadying hand on your hip.

His very large, very strong hand.

You hover over him, so close you can’t help but catch the scent of his cologne — fresh and clean with a little hint of musky sweetness. It makes your head spin, traps the air in your lungs as your heart starts kicking against your ribcage, the harsh thump, thump, thump a resounding echo in your ears.

The edge of the brim of his hat lightly brushes over your cheek when his face tilts up to look at you, and your whole body heats up when your gazes meet again. It’s…strangely intimate, curiously familiar all at once, and that same spark of attraction from earlier unfurls in your stomach, like a flower blooming under the sun’s glowing rays.

It is a reaction your body most certainly has no business having.

“Sorry,” you tell him, the word rushing out of you breathlessly.

Then the lights inside the vehicle go out, abruptly turned off and plunging you into darkness. The blessed safety of it where you’re able to avoid the intensity of his eyes. Still, you know little relief, your heightened sense of touch proving to be the next dilemma to contend with, specifically because you’re still holding onto him.

And he’s still holding onto you.

The singular sensation of the pads of his fingers pressing into your skin through your clothes, knocks you off kilter more than the driver’s heavy foot. You make it a point to pull away.

“You alright?” he asks when you do, voice gruff in a way that makes your cheeks heat and your palms clammy.

Your laugh is airy as it passes between your lips, full of nerves you hope he doesn’t pick up on. “Yeah, I’m good.”

But you notice he doesn’t remove his hand until you’re stable on your feet.

“Sorry,” you repeat, trying to give him some room despite really having none to spare. You angle your body away from him, towards the front of the bus, and grip the strap like a lifeline. Your heartbeat is still thrumming in your head. “And sorry if I step on you or something. I swear these things are a death trap.”

He chuckles at that. “It’s okay, that’s why I’ve got steel-toed boots.”

The joke is lame, but you find yourself smiling at it anyway.

Trying to maintain your equilibrium is the most challenging part of the ride, nothing short of a herculean endeavor, especially with the way the driver takes the turns. You spend the next fifteen minutes obsessively conscious of the way your leg keeps accidentally knocking his knee on every break and acceleration of the bus. Apologies seem a little redundant at this point, though, so you keep them to yourself. But they still weigh heavy on your tongue.

It’s probably the most peculiar experience you’ve ever had on a Disney World shuttle, and you can’t say that you aren’t relieved when the Port Orleans French Quarter signage appears through the window. French Quarter is the first stop on the route which means your own stop is coming up quite soon. There are several drop-off locations on the Riverside route, but the lights at the main unloading area at the front of the resort are the brightest and most sobering. You blink against the sting of them while the bus pulls in, wincing when the interior lights flicker back to life again too and amplify the brightness. It takes your vision a few moments to adjust to normal and you drop your hold on the strap in the interim.

Oww.

The ache in your shoulder is instant, the muscles tense all the way down your arm. Hell, even your fingers feel stiff. You tilt your head from side to side, stretching out your neck and resisting the urge to reach across yourself and rub at the sore spot on your shoulder. With your luck, you’ll elbow Hot Dad in the face in the process.

Feet and bodies begin to shuffle about, the rustle of shopping bags and backpacks and other items filling the air as passengers eagerly prepare to disembark. Out of habit, you reach for your phone. You mean to look at the time but the screen blinks with a text message notification instead. It’s from Reese, undoubtedly checking on you.

And grounding you in a really needed way.

Food, fun, friends, you remind yourself.

When it’s time to go, you don’t bother to say goodbye to Hot Dad or spare him a second glance. Whatever spell this whole situation had previously cast on you is effectively broken. Whatever you’d felt in those moments, gone. With the reality of being back at the resort, he becomes just another face, another stranger in a huge crowd of them visiting the parks and being on vacation. You bet you won’t even see him again anyway.

You step off the bus, thanking the driver on your way despite his horrible driving and smiling when he wishes you a good evening. The temperature’s dropped even more since you left Disney Springs, and it makes you shiver as you begin the trek to your room. It feels good, even if your fingers are cold. You inhale the crisp air deeply, allowing it to fill your lungs before you exhale just as thoroughly.

If you’ve timed it correctly, the girls should just about be finished with their showers, which means you can get to yours as soon as you get to the room. Maybe even cram in a face mask after. If you hustle, you might just be able to fall asleep before Taylor too — she snores but will never admit it, and sometimes it’s difficult to fall asleep once she gets going.

You make it inside the lobby, past the doors that lead back outside to the little marina, and almost halfway across the bridge before you hear the distinct sound of jogging feet on the wood.

“Hey, wait up!” someone calls, and you turn out of reflex, before you can think better of it.

Your brows lift in surprise, particularly since you’d already convinced yourself the bus was all you were going to get.

“Hey,” Hot Dad greets when he catches up to you. His smile is sweet, if a little sheepish.

Attraction flutters insistently in the back of your mind, beating its little wings rebelliously against the rational voice trying to stress that you are on vacation — at Disney World — and don’t have time for any more of the indulgent thoughts swirling around in your head.

Especially about a stranger and a father no less. He could be married or otherwise attached. He could be a murderer, the nice guy act simply just a ruse. Hell, he could be a married murderer even. Okay, the last two might be a tad dramatic, but you’ve watched too many true crime documentaries and you know that sometimes you just never know.

“Hey,” you say back, noting that he is sans kid.

A flicker of movement behind him captures your attention and you lean out past his shoulder to get a better look. You instantly recognize Ben from the bus, along with his dark-haired friend. They’re just outside the doors of the dinning hall, next to the lobby entrance, standing together like they’re waiting around for something. Then you see that Ben is holding Hot Dad’s daughter, swaying tenderly and rocking her in his arms, and oh, they’re waiting for him.

Ben has the cheekiness to give you a little wink this time when he realizes you’re looking, and you’re 99% convinced he gets just about anything he wants with all that charm. Blondie joins them a second later, walking out the door with a bag from the general store clutched in his hand. He doesn’t wave but his curious gaze remains trained on you.

The dark-haired one does wave despite being semi-distracted with his phone, pacing around slightly with it pressed to his ear. His hand falls to his waist and you cant your head curiously. There’s an intriguing air about that one, like he’s fully in control of every situation at any given moment. Someone used to giving orders but not necessarily taking them. Suave, confident, a touch sophisticated. Like he would exude that same kind of power in a t-shirt as he would in a suit.

Seeing them all together is something of a sight and a bit of an enigma. Four men, all with differing dispositions, all gorgeous in their own ways. You haven’t figured out the connection yet, how the four of them are linked and bound together. But you just get the sense that they are.

“I knew Huey was with you,” you tell him. “But I didn’t realize Dewey and Louie were too.”

Confusion flashes across his face until he turns to follow where your line of sight had been. It takes him a second, and then he’s tilting his head back, a bright laugh rumbling out of him at your reference to Donald Duck’s triplet nephews. The sound is pretty in the night air, and the unexpected pleasure of being able to draw it out of him lights like a sparkler in your chest.

“Yeah, unfortunately,” he grins, turning back to you.

The corners of his eyes crinkle and a deep dimple winks to life in his cheek. It makes his face even sweeter.

He stands there watching you for a time after, and that look from the bus crosses his face again, like he’s working out an answer to a question only he knows. You start to shift your weight from foot to foot, self-conscious, unsure of what to do as the silence stretches on and the air pulses between you — all shimmering heat and endless possibilities. You tug your bottom lip into your mouth, chewing on it nervously, and it’s not lost on you that his eyes are drawn briefly to the action.

You swallow thickly.

“Did you, um…need help with something?” you finally ask, trying to ignore the pull to him you can’t seem to shake.

That seems to break him out of his trance and he reaches up to rub at the back of his neck, suddenly shy.

“So hey, listen…I just wanted to thank you again for what you did back there.” He gestures behind him with his free hand, in the general direction of the shuttle drop-off. “It was really nice and you- you didn’t have to. I appreciate it and I’m sure the other passengers did too.”

“Oh, don’t mention it. I was happy to help. I get grumpy when I’m tired, too, so I understand.”

You shrug and give him a playful scrunch of your nose that eases the tension in his shoulders and makes that cute little dimple appear again.

“Well, I’ve uh…gotta get back to my room,” you say softly when your cheeks start to warm from his unwavering gaze. “Early day tomorrow and all.”

“Oh, yeah, yeah. Of course.” He rubs at his jaw, fingers grazing over the scruff as he thinks on something. “I’d offer to walk you but, I know we just met and you probably don’t want a stranger to know where your room is…but, if you did want someone to walk you, it’s the least I could do.”

His rambling is terribly endearing but he’s right on all counts. “Thanks, that’s really nice of you to offer, but I’ll be alright. I’m pretty close anyway- oh! And I hope your daughter gets some rest.”

His lips curve at that. “Thanks, me too. Thank you for everything else. Again.”

You raise your hand in a parting wave. “Goodnight.”

“Night,” he murmurs back.

And it suddenly dawns on you that this could very well be the last time you ever see him. There’s a disappointed twinge in your gut that shouldn’t be there but is and it’s silly, but still very difficult to ignore as your feet start to carry you backwards. Your body is reluctant to turn away, your eyes unable to resist taking their fill of him — just one last, long, harmless look before you go.

“Wait!”

He says it just as you start to turn away and it makes you pause. You glance over your shoulder with one of your eyebrows raised expectantly at him.

“Yeah?”

“I’m Frankie, by the way.”

You know what he’s inviting by giving you his name — the choice to give yours back. What’s the harm, right? It wouldn’t change anything. You could tell him your name and it wouldn’t mean anything.

Instead, you give him another smile, the corners of your lips tugging up.

“Have a good vacation, Frankie.”

He shakes his head at you, amusement clear on his stupidly adorable face as he shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans and rocks back onto his heels.

“You too.”

This time, you force yourself to go, to keep your eyes ahead and your feet moving.

If you hadn’t, you might have seen the way he’d taken an unconscious step after you before catching himself, or the way his gaze had lingered on your form until you disappeared across the bridge.

The walk back to your room isn’t much further, just beyond the second bridge and right on the main path. Lucky for you since your mind is far too distracted for anything more than running on autopilot. You’re caught in a memory loop, incessantly replaying the night’s events over and over in your head.

You’ve read too many romance books, listened to too many love songs, seen too many romance movies. Have grown too fond of fairy tales and happily-ever-afters with their neat little ribbons and dainty bows on top.

You are on vacation, you remind yourself one more time, and you cannot romanticize a meaningless moment between yourself and a random stranger. One you are never going to see again. But even as you retreat from the bubble of that chanced encounter on the bus, and the subsequent exchange at the bridge, somehow, that man with his quiet demeanor and his sweet smile sticks with you.

End Notes: Re: Charlotte’s nicknames A ‘fry’ is a baby fish pescadito also translates to ‘baby/small fish’ mi tesoro means ‘my treasure’

Thank you so, so much for reading and joining the TF boys for vacation ;)

#frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x female reader #frankie morales #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x you #triple frontier #triple frontier fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #santiago garcia #will miller #benny miller #my writing #mihfyam

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sidgeno-ficrecs · 8 months

Text

twist & lick by @witblogi

sidgenoanna (2019, explicit, 4.5k)

Hey followers, we’re looking for friends in the Miami area who would be interested in joining us in bed. This time we’re looking for a male, preferably athletic build, Zhenya likes a good ass on his men. Has to be willing to be filmed and be of legal age. Apply at the link below with a bio and some photos and we’ll get in contact if we like what we see. AKA Sid signs up to be a third in a porno

“Point is, I maybe already applied for you while you were washing your jizz off.” Nate sheepishly turned the computer to him, showing him a notification that read Thank you, your application was successfully submitted.

“Nate!”

“It was an executive decision!” Nate scrambled up to be kneeling on the bed, “You’re like the saddest town bachelor, moping around wanting a lifetime movie or some shit. You don’t even see half the people around you gagging to suck your dick! You need to get laid and have some fun and get out of your head.”

our first OT3 rec!

something i've discovered about my own personal hockey RPF reading preferences is that about 90% of the time i gravitate to fics that are in-universe—meaning, one or both of them are hockey players. something about exploring the relationship within the 'real' world, figuring out how they fit together in the context of what we know of their actual relationship, is so compelling to me.

but then there are fics like this one.

what a fun read this is. the premise is absolutely sizzling—sid is subscribed to geno and anna's sex vlogs, and they're looking for a third because geno likes men with nice asses? yes, please, a thousand times over sign me up for this.

sid's friendship with nate only makes a brief appearance, but it adds so much to the story—sid's friend who's cheerfully intrusive and boundaryless and absolutely essential to moving everything forward and pushing sid into what will ultimately be the best decision of his life is the exact perfect role for him.

geno and anna's relationship, even when all we're seeing of it is through sid's eyes as he's watching their videos, absolutely overflows with love and affection. the dialogue is absolutely perfect—funny and sweet, but sexy as hell too. and folding sid into their dynamic is as natural as breathing. the three of them just fit, in a way that can be so hard to pull off when you're adding a third person to an established relationship.

and the sex scenes? god damn. threesomes can be awkward to write—who's doing what, where are everyone's hands, is it physically possible for three people to be doing that when they're lying on a bed—and witblogi manages to both perfectly express and move past the initial awkwardness in a way that feels so real, yet ideal—exactly the way a meant-to-be threesome would go.

this fic is incredibly hot, incredibly sweet, and the end is touching enough that it left a lump in my throat. it's the perfect summer treat—warm and sun-soaked and filled with indulgence.

(also, shoutout to sid's underboob sweat reference—a problem us chesty gals are all-to-familiar with 😂 one of the many, many charming little details that will leave you grinning ear to ear while reading)

read it here on ao3!

and don't forget to leave a comment <3

#sidgeno #sidgeno fic rec #hockey rpf #hockey fic rec #@witblogi

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mermaidsirennikita · 4 months

Note

Do you have any HR with the hero having a profession instead of being nobility?

Yes, def! I love non-noble heroes.

Lisa Kleypas writes a lot of self-made men, with some of the most prominent books I'd recommend (there are other ones, these are just my favorites) including:

Dreaming of You. Derek Craven runs a successful gambling club; he was born in a drainpipe!!! He named himself!!! He lived on the streets, he totally made a success of himself, and now he can't deal with his sense of inadequacy and his dirty, dirty hands sullying Sara (though he will for sure do stuff to her... I mean, if she was wearing a mask and they got started and he realized it was her during... he might as well finish it...)

Secrets of a Summer Night. Simon Hunt is self-made, and he comes off as a super successful industry tycoon. It's hOT. And of course, the conflict of his book is him asking the poor but blueblooded heroine to be his mistress, while she's like "omg he's so COARSE!!!"

Marrying Winterborne. Would recommend reading Cold-Hearted Rake, which does have a noble hero, beforehand for context. Rhys Winterborne is Welsh (!) and owns a department store and he's always like "spend my money babe".

Seduce Me at Sunrise--Kev Merripen is kind of like... a servant for the Hathaways? But he's also grown beyond that. He's most definitely not nobility, and nor is Cam in Meet Me at Midnight (which is also good, but I don't love it quite as much).

Again the Magic--McKenna was a servant for Aline's family, was sent away because of their romance, and made his money abroad

Lorraine Heath has some, which I love:

Between the Devil and Desire. Just re-listened! Jack Dodger was a child thief (the bEST child thief! He's Dodge!) and now owns a gambling club that's super successful.

Midnight Pleasures with a Scoundrel. James Swindler was also a child thief/con artist (a swindler perhaps) and is now an inspector. There's also a novella following this book about their friend, Dr. Graves, who's obviously a doctor and was a graverobber as a child--but I haven't read that one yet.

Her Sins for All Seasons series has 4/6 heroes who were born illegitimate and therefore aren't noble--Beyond Scandal and Desire has Mick, who runs a club, The Scoundrel in Her Bed as a hero who does similarly but is kind of halfhearted about it (and was a horse slaughterer when he was younger), and The Duchess in His Bed has a hero who runs a club for WOMEN!!! There is another self-made hero I've yet to read in Beauty Tames the Beast (I think?).

Elizabeth Hoyt has a lot of heroes who aren't noble:

Scandalous Desires--Mickey O'Connor is an extremely successful river pirate.

Thief of Shadows--Winter runs an orphanage for poor lil babies

Sweetest Scoundrel--Asa is trying to build up a pleasure garden (he's Winter's brother)

Most of Joanna Shupe's Gilded Age heroes are not noble, because American. Special shoutouts to:

The Rogue of Fifth Avenue--the hero is a former thief-turned-lawyer/fixer for a rich man, who falls for his boss's daughter

The Prince of Broadway--Clay Madden runs a casino and begins mentoring his hero (in a revenge plot)

The Devil of Downtown--Jack Devlin is a gangster lol

In the Fifth Avenue Rebels, the first three heroes (basically everyone but Lockwood) are not noble but they do come from money. Shoutout to The Lady Gets Lucky (Kit is rich but demands to be taken seriously by starting a supper club) and The Bride Goes Rogue (Preston is Vague Tycoon Man).

Grace Callaway has:

Pippa and the Prince of Secrets--Cull runs a band of CHILD THIEVES and lives on the criminal/vigilante edges of society

Glory and the Master of Shadows--Wei is a martial arts master who is recovering from some pretty severe trauma, while also handling some dirty dirty deeds on the low.

Sarah MacLean's first two Bareknuckle Bastards books (Brazen and the Beast and Wicked and the Wallflower) have criminal underworld heroes, and Knockout has an inspector hero!

Stacy Reid's A Scoundrel of Her Own has a hero who was born poor but has risen up in society (which is now why he wants to claim his upper class childhood sweetheart as his own muahahahaha--)

Beverly Jenkins's heroes generally are not noble, because she doesn't write about white Brits, but they do often come from money. Galen Vachon in Indigo comes from a wealthy, influential Creole family, and the hero of Forbidden is passing for white, but is actually the biracial son of a plantation owner.

#romance novel blogging #book recs #romance: self made heroes

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jonesyjonesyjonesy · 1 year

Text

Wildflowers (pt. xviii)

a john paul jones x fem!oc fic

summary: Julia Morgan knew nannying for three girls who had recently lost their mother would come with many challenges. But she never thought their father, the enigmatic musician John Paul Jones, would be causing her the most trouble. And while Julia is not in the business of saving broken men, her tenderness might be meant for more than little girls and wildflowers.

table of contents │ previous chapter

masterlist│ko-fi

notes: general angst, brief allusion to ed, imbibed john paul jones

a/n: shoutout to the anon who has said wf reminds them of lady chatterly i'm sorry i've never responded to you

pt. xviii, nightshade

“I think I want to. I think I’m ready to get back at it.”

The sound of keys jangling, scraping into the lock. Skkrrt…skrr…thnk…thnk…

Then his cursing. “Bloody hell.”

I made my way from the stairs to the door; the front hall was lit sparely by a candelabra wall sconce, casting eerie shadows on the dark wood paneling.

It was late. And he’d told me not to wait up, but I couldn’t stand to be in bed alone. I’d become so accustomed to his body next to mine, his warmth and weight always just a brush away.

More keys jangling. Mumbling. Another key shoved into the lock, angry and wrong.

Truthfully, I’d been anxious since John told me he’d be going to Plumpton for the evening. It was a last minute thing, a phone call that morning from Peter or Jimmy. Never clear which. The girls and I were already sitting around the breakfast table, his space auspiciously empty.

“Where’s Daddy?” Kiera asked.

“Yes, Julia, where’s John?” Annie followed up, vaguely scathing.

I glared at her. Ever since Annie came back, nighttime was the only time John and me could safely spend together without fear of her critical eye. No more playing house or stolen kisses while the girls’ backs were turned.

For all of John’s attempts at smoothing things over after Annie walked in on us, she remained relatively cool, at least to me. Our conversations always had a tense undercurrent. We could be near to enjoying ourselves when Annie would suddenly remember my indiscretions and freeze up on me.

Or she’d just be plain rude.

“Girls, you start eating. I’ll go check on your father,” I said as I got up from my spot at the table.

“Yes, who knows how long it might take Julia to…do whatever she does,” Annie added.

I turned to her sharply. “Do you mind?”

She didn’t look up from scrubbing a pan in the sink. “Pardon?”

“Do you mind holding back your commentary, Anna?”

Annie smiled at me saccharinely. “No, don’t mind at all.”

I rolled my eyes, but as soon as I turned to go, John swept in through the door, nearly walking right into me. “Oh!”

“Ah!” John exclaimed.

The girls giggled as we slapsticked around each other like the Three Stooges. That was our new default. Being terrified to accidentally touch in front of anyone.

“I was just coming to get you.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” John went to his seat at the table, giving each of the girls an affectionate kiss. “Was caught up with a phone call. Hope you weren’t waiting too long.”

“My eggs are cold and my juice is hot,” Tamara said with a dramatic sigh.

“Good thing today is a topsy-turvy kind of day,” John replied.

I sat back down. “What kind of phone call?”

John’s eyes shot up to mine. “Uhm. Business.”

I pursed my lips. This was a question I would not have asked when I was only his employee. As we’d gotten closer, I felt more entitled to know about his life. Follow-up questions, though, were for a wife. Not a…whatever I was.

It turned out, though, his caginess was not because I asked.

“I have to go out to Plumpton tonight,” John said to Annie and me after sending the girls to the playroom, the three of us sitting around the table over coffee and cigarettes.

“Whatever for?” Annie asked.

He sighed in resignation. “Peter’s insistent it’s just a ‘friendly get-together’. You know the boys, their wives. To which I said I couldn’t possibly be there. But then he pushed and pushed and it became clear quite quickly that this was much more of a…professional engagement.”

Annie poured him another cup of coffee. “You think it’s the same old song and dance, then?”

“Naturally.” John sipped his cup. “And you know when Peter wants something, he can be very persuasive.”

“That’s a generous description,” I said.

John hid a smile. “Anyway, I won’t be at dinner tonight.”

“Well, we’ll be just fine. As always.” I wanted to reach out and squeeze his wrist, but with Annie’s eyes on us, everything was off-limits.

John sighed. “Not worried about you. Worried about me. They’ll all be their with their wives and they’ll have me cornered into conversation after conversation. Trying to convince me of something we have to do to stay relevant. They convinced me to do the bloody film, they convinced me of the label, and now all that’s left is an album. And that's Pandora's box.”

“You just tell them no as you always have. Simple,” Annie said. Then, she looked between the two of us. “Or you take Julia.”

“What?” I scoffed.

“Well, if he’s worried about being the center of attention, you could completely distract them, couldn’t you?”

Neither John or I spoke.

“Oh. I forgot,” Annie replied drolly. “You’re just friends. ‘Scuse me.” She got up from the table and went to get started on laundry.

John took a long drag on his cigarette. “Well. She’s in fine form isn’t she?”

My mouth was hot. I waited a moment longer, hoping he would ask me to join him. But that’s not what this relationship was. Just friends in the daylight, just lovers in the night. No in between, not since Annie came back. I was getting tired of this light switch flipping off and on. “You’ll be alright tonight?”

John smiled at me. “You worried about me?”

“Hasn’t that been painfully obvious for a while now?”

John eyed me through the smoke of his cigarette. “Aren’t you sweet?”

I blushed.

John stamped out his ciagarette, got up out of his chair, and poured the rest of his coffee into the sink. “It’s nothing I haven’t done before. And besides –” He crossed to the kitchen door and gave me one last look. “I’ve got a trump card over Jimmy if I need to use it.”

“You wouldn’t say anything.” It was a fact. He wouldn’t.

John shrugged. “No. But if anyone’s giving me any guff, I can just imagine you with your knickers ‘round your ankles and that’ll be quite a pleasant distraction.”

My jaw dropped but I had no time to respond before John slipped out of the kitchen to the studio.

We’d been about this affair a little over a month now. And it was honestly getting a bit stale. The flirtatious comments and stolen kisses held less excitement. I was starting to wonder if and when things would change between us, hopefully for the more permanent. However, there wasn’t a lot of time to consider any changes between us when things were so busy. I was preparing the girls for back to school the first week of September and John was attending to business matters more frequently. He was also more “inspired” than he had been in a while. That’s the word he used: inspired. Inspiration often struck at night. Sometimes, he’d let me join him in the studio while he tinkered around. Other times, I’d leave him alone and awaken to him slipping into bed with me. Always in my bed, never in the master.

That night, I hadn’t settled since John had left even though the girls were in good spirits over a dinner of macaroni cheese and a jaunt into town for a sweet treat. I was distracted by thoughts of John at Plumpton. Was anyone asking after me? After everything at Montreux and the way I’d left things with Pat, certainly she’d be inquiring. But men weren’t quite like that. They asked after wives and children, not lovers. Or nannies.

Despite him saying not to wait up for him, I waited with a copy of Lady Chatterly’s Lover in my lap going unread.

Every sound of the creaking house had me going to the door to listen and see if it was his keys or his car.

Hour after hour passed. I felt for sure he would call if he were to stay over. Or maybe he wouldn’t to avoid suspicion.

But then I heard it. The jangling, the cursing, the wrong key in the lock.

I opened the door, revealing John. He fumbled forward and grabbed the doorframe to steady himself. His ring of keys rattled against the door. “Julia! You’re up.”

John’s eyes were wobbly. “Don’t tell me you drove drunk,” I said.

“Not drunk, just a little –” He paused, looking down and swallowing back the slurring cadence of his voice. “Tipsy. Only a little.”

“John…you could have gotten yourself killed.”

John took a step forward and stumbled right into my arms, clinging to my shoulders. “Oh, come now, Julia. It’s just a half hour drive.” He kissed me. I tasted fermented grapes on his lips. “Mm. I’ve missed you.”

I couldn’t help but swoon “It’s only been a few hours.”

“A few is too many hours. Especially when everyone was asking about you.”

Oh, how my heart soared to not be too far from his mind. “Well, I missed you too.”

John smiled, leaning in for another kiss. “Pat wanted to know why you haven’t called.” His breath was hot and stale smelling.

I pulled back. “Your breath is –”

“Peter wanted to know why you hadn’t come along.”

I dodged his mouth again. “John…”

“And Jimmy asked as innocently as he could how you were doing.”

I laughed. “Cheeky bastard.”

“And I realized I had no idea how to answer that question because I haven’t asked you that in some time.”

I stopped, furrowing my brow in bewilderment. John took advantage of my pause and softly kissed me.

“How are you, Julia?”

“Ehm. Fine.”

John pouted out his lower lip. “Just fine?”

“Is that not a good enough answer?”

John raked his hand through my hair, scratching my scalp. “I want you to be more than fine.”

I leaned my head into his hand. In the night, with him, when nothing was off-limits, I felt more than fine. My questions were starting to outpace my enjoyment.

John went in for another kiss.

“Easy,” I giggled, catching his kiss on my cheek. “I wish you would have stayed the night there than risk driving in this state, John.”

“Even if you had to sleep alone?”

“Even if I had to sleep alone. Yes. Now, let’s get this coat off, hm?”

John wriggled his arms, the sleeves sloughing down his arms. “Goddammit.” He started spinning around, trying to get them off.

“Hold still, I’ll get it,” I giggled.

I followed him around in a circle like he was a toddler until I managed to snag the collar and yank the coat off. “Ough, thank you. Thought I was trapped. Like one of those, uh…” He pointed his fingers together in front of him. “Those finger traps, you know?”

“Goodness, how much have you had? Or what have you had?”

John put his hands on my shoulders, intense concentration folding his brow.

“What is it?”

He took a breath as if to say something important. “I’m very hungry.”

I patted his stomach. “Poor thing. Didn’t you all have anything to eat there?”

“No, Jimmy never has anything. I’m not sure he even has any food in the house let alone for guests.”

“So that’s why you’re so tipsy.”

John rolled his eyes in thought. “Mmmwell, I did have a couple of mints from Pat’s purse.”

I laughed. “Alright. I’ll make you something. Let’s get your shoes off first.”

John tripped past me to the hall bench, landing with a thud on his backside. “Oof.”

I finagled his keys out of the lock and shut the door quietly. The girls had been asleep for several hours and I didn’t want them waking up and asking questions.

“I’ve only had some wine and grass, by the way,” John sighed, leaning forward to undo the laces on his loafers.

“Really? That’s it? I’d hate to see what literally anything else does to you.”

“Out of practice.”

I scoffed at the idea of drugs and alcohol being considered a practice. “Here, let me help.” I knelt to the ground.

“I can undo my shoes, Julia.”

“You can, but you’re being awfully slow about it.” I waved his hands away. “Let me.”

I liked to make myself useful to him in any small way. It was the best way I knew how to show my affection and perhaps lead him to be unable to picture a life without me. I was a woman so perfect, I’d get on my knees just to take off his shoes.

Clearly, I was getting desperate.

“So tell me. How was it?”

John didn’t reply. His breath was heavy, thick with drink. I could feel his eyes watching me. Waiting for something.

I tapped his calf. “Off.”

He pulled his foot out of the shoe and twiddled his toes in the sock.

“Was it what you thought it was?” I asked.

“Hm?”

“Were they trying to get you to start back on the album?”

“Oh, yes, yes. Yes, they were.”

I undid his other shoe and started to pull at it.

“I think I want to.”

I froze. Certainly I must have misheard him. But when our eyes met, I knew I hadn’t.

“I think I’m ready to get back at it.”

I opened my mouth to respond. All that came out was a sound of hesitation.

“It all sounds rather exciting again. I haven't felt that in a while. But knowing you’re here with the girls, I didn't feel quite as worried. And I’m feeling more –”

“Inspired, yes.”

John smiled in such a way that broke my heart. Like a young boy asking his mother if she was proud of him. He wanted my approval.

If I had been more to him, I might have felt compelled to tell him what I really thought. That the girls weren’t ready. That I wasn’t ready.

But I was only the nanny. What he said was gospel.

“What do you think?”

I swallowed back my concerns and placed my hands on his thighs, getting up on my knees. “It’s wonderful.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. I’m thrilled for you. I’m sure everyone is…just so thrilled.”

John wrapped my face in his hands and kissed me. “You’re my angel. I would never have felt ready without you.”

“Nonsense.”

“No, really, Julia. Really, really. I…” John was losing cogency by the moment, brain saddled with drink. “I never thought I’d be ready again, but...I just think it’s time. I really do.” The more he spoke, the more assured he was.

“When will you leave?” The word leave stuck in my throat.

“I’ll stick around for the girl’s first day of school and then be off.”

That was barely a week away. “How long?”

“Well, as long as we need. Probably the month. But it’s a short drive. I can visit.”

A month. When the girls were just starting school, Kiera her very first year.

And we…

I had no right to “we”. That was clear now.

I took his hand and squeezed it. “You said you’re hungry. I’ll make you something. What do you want?”

“I’ll eat anything. I’m ravenous.”

I got to my feet, but John did not let go of me. He pulled me down into his lap and buried his face in my neck.

“I’ll have you if you like,” he murmured.

My stomach turned. There was nothing I wanted less at that moment than for him to whisper lewd things in my ear. I squirmed in his arms. “I’m on the rag, John.”

“Mmwhat’s that matter?”

“I’m tired.”

“You won’t have to do anything.”

“I’ve got cramps.”

“It’ll help.”

I finally made it out of his arms and started down toward the kitchen. “Come on and be quiet about it.”

John laid off once we made it into the kitchen and he remembered his empty stomach. He was indeed ravenous, scarfing down a sandwich and babbling on about various events of the night with no regard to chronology or clarity. It didn’t matter. I wasn’t listening. Everything was about to change even more than it already had. And that was all I could focus on.

The next morning, after a fitful night of sleep made even worse by John’s liquor laden snoring, with the girls gathered around the breakfast table and Annie listening as she cleaned, John delivered the news.

“It will only be a few weeks. And I’ll come home as often as I can. And Julia and Annie will be here, of course.”

The girls all looked to me. Their eyes pleaded with me to say something, anything that would validate the way their stomachs had just dropped.

I have regrets in life. For a person to say they haven’t got them is a lie. And sitting at that table with a smile plastered on my face instead of speaking to their fear is one of many regrets I have.

“How does that sound?” John finished with an eager smile.

Tamara spoke, holding her head high, “Good.” She would lead in her appeasing, eldest child way.

“We’ll have a lot of fun,” I said and reached for Jacinda’s hand that was clenching her fork. She looked at me warily. I squeezed harder. “And we’ll talk to your father every day on the phone.”

“Yes, absolutely,” John added. “We’ll have lots of chats and you can tell me everything.”

The girls were silent. They’d been here before. Old hat. Better at this than me.

“And there’s plenty of time before I leave to spend time together. We can do whatever you’d like. Whatever at all.”

“Anything?” Kiera asked. She did not have the skill of conceptualizing the true feeling of John's absence. She would be the hardest to care for.

“Sky is the limit,” John replied. “We’ll start today. Tell me, what would you like to do?”

I couldn’t sit there any longer with my irritated grin. I excused myself from the conversation, saying I needed to use the bathroom. But the moment I left the kitchen, tears filled my eyes.

He couldn’t leave. He shouldn’t. Not when things were so unsure.

I stumbled to sit at the bottom of the stairs and tried to steady my breathing. A tear rolled down my cheek. I smacked at it like it was a fly. One tear became two, became a deluge. I buried my face in my lap to muffle any sound of my sobs.

Then, I felt a hand on my shoulder. Familiar, yet nowadays so rare. Annie.

She guided me into her arms and held me against her bosom. I wrapped myself around her as if she was my very own mother as she stroked my hair.

“Oh, poor heart…” she murmured. “He’ll be back for you. I promise you that.”

I lifted my head from her lap, finding her foggy gray eyes. Annie cupped my cheek in her hand.

The next thing she said, I’ll never forget.

“But you have to be careful, Julia. This is his life. This will always be his life. The coming and the going. Do you think you can handle that?”

My head knew the answer was “no”. However, my heart was not willing to let him go. Not when we had just begun.

“I can. I can.”

Annie's brow pinched together only momentarily, but enough to let me know she didn't believe me. But instead of carrying on another moment, she kissed my forehead. “Of course, you can.”

tag list: @jimmys-zeppelin, @kari-12-10, @grxtsch, @edal-weis, @ritacaroline, @kyunisixx, @salixfragilis, @rebel-without-a-zeppelin, @jimmypages, @dollyvandal, @cassiana-on-dark-side, @thepinklovewitch, @babyl222, @faisonsunreve, @sastrugie, @seventieswhore, @t4ngerinedr3am, @mayspringcome, @barrettavenue, @foreverandadaydarling, @glimmerofsanity, @matty-heally, @lzep, @jimmysdragonsuit13, @n0quart3r, @larsgoingtomars, @paginate54 (let me know if you’d like to be added 💋)

#john paul jones #led zeppelin #john paul jones x oc #julia morgan #fanfiction #wf #jimmy page #john bonham #robert plant

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orangeaurora · 1 year

Text

Scarlet | Chapter 2

pairing: steve harrington x reader, best friend!eddie munson x reader

Summary: After a falling out with her childhood best friend Nancy Wheeler due to her hatred for Steve Harrington, Y/N goes on a journey of discovering she has powers and that the goosebumps she gets around Steve Harrington aren’t actually from hatred. Though these new found powers are difficult to deal with, nothing is harder than dealing with the creatures of the upside down.

SLOW BURN AF

word count: 2150

warnings: cussing, drinking, smoking weed, mean steve </3, sexy halloween costume (LOL). I think that’s it.

A/N: hi cuties. I really love this chapter and I hope you all do too. huge shoutout to my best friend who helps me edit this fic. it wouldn’t exist without her. happy reading, and I hope you enjoy!!

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There has been radio silence from Nancy ever since that night. It was the night of Tina’s party and all the upper class-men were invited to her Halloween Bash of the year. I knew that Nancy was going to be there, but I just couldn’t bring myself to accept that I would have to ignore the girl that I almost sacrificed my life for. As I looked in the mirror of my vanity table, the scar on the left side of my face reminded me of the events of that night. It was a line that was perpendicular to my eyebrow and eye and almost looked as if it went straight through my (eye color) irises. It stung with heat when I would think about what happened. As I started to cover it with makeup, my mom walked in.

“It isn’t so bad, you know?”

“It’s hideous.” I hated it. Not only did it ruin my face, but it was a reminder.

“I don’t know, you look pretty badass to me, honey.” She looks over at my costume for the night “I think if Princess Leia had a scar through her eye, she would be a lot cooler.”

“Sexy Princess Leia, Mom,” I say pointing to the white fishnets and corset that lay with my blue lightsaber prop.

“Right, Sexy.” My mom wasn’t excited about my version of our favorite Star Wars character, but I am 18 so she knew she didn’t have much say on what I wear outside of the house. As she stood up to leave the room she said “Just make sure you do her buns right and remember to have fun!”

This was my first real outing since I got my scar and makeup didn’t cover it as much as I wanted it to so I was terrified. With my whole costume on, I was able to look in the mirror and feel… beautiful. I can’t remember the last time I felt confident with myself. With this newfound and hopefully not short-lived confidence, I was ready for Tina’s party, no matter who I bumped into there.

When I pulled up to Tina’s party, I could hear the music almost a block away. The butterflies in my stomach were going crazy and my body was shaking the same way it did a year ago when I was on my way to Jonathon Byer’s house. When I walked into Tina’s house, I felt heads turn to look at me. It was like eyes around the room were piercing my skin. Was I showing too much off? No, it is Halloween. This moment felt like forever until I felt someone grab my arm. When I turned around, it was Tina offering me a drink.

“Y/N you look hot as fuck!”

“Thank you!” I said, not knowing if she was telling me the truth or not.

“Have the time of your life tonight, and try to keep all bodily fluids in the bathroom tonight for the sake of my parent’s carpet! Thanks!” She half shouted so that I could hear her over the crowd of people in her living room as she walked away from me.

Great… now what? I guess I could call Ed-

“KING STEVE IN THE HOUSE!” My head turns so fast to face the front door as I see Nancy and Steve walking inside. Of course, he would make an entrance like that.

I felt my face grow red. I felt like I was going to puke. The sight of them made me sick or was it the drink that Tina gave me?

Nancy locked eyes with me and immediately grabbed Steve’s arm and led him to the kitchen. I don’t know what was in that drink, but I followed right behind them.

“Hey, guys.” That was all I could say even though I had enough courage to say something in the first place. Why couldn’t it have been more than that? I probably looked like a freak. Nancy and Steve were dressed as people from Risky Business, very conservatively might I add, as I had more skin on display than most people standing in the kitchen.

“Y/N? Wow, you look stunning. Fuck, look at your eye. Looks like the hospital I brought you to did a really good job fixing you up.” That made my whole body heat up with anger.

“Oh yeah! The one you so conveniently dropped me off at to ensure no blood would end up in your precious car!”

That seemed to catch Nancy’s attention and she quickly turned her head to look at him; “You dropped her off Steve?” Steve’s face grew pale. “Uh - Well… Ya know- I…” He couldn’t stop stuttering. Did Nancy really not know that I was left alone that night? “Look Nance BOOZE! Ya know, the reason we are here, to get drunk, not to reminisce with scar face.” And at that moment, every ounce of confidence left my body. How could he say that to me? “Yeah… booze,” Nancy said as she walked away with him. She turned her head to look at my stunned face as she mouthed the tiniest “I’m sorry”.

For the next few hours, I didn’t even want to drink. The thought of putting alcohol into my body sounded like a recipe for disaster, so I filled a red solo cup with water as I danced with a few different people in the common area of the house. Suddenly, I heard arguing coming from the kitchen and recognized my old best friend’s voice immediately. As I walked towards the voices to see what was going on, it felt like Nancy came out of nowhere as she bumped into me and her red spiked punch spilled all over the both of us. We both had tears welling up in our eyes as we looked at our chests covered in dark red and back up to one another’s faces. In just a second Nancy ran upstairs as I ran to the downstairs bathroom that was right by the kitchen.

“I am a fucking idiot,” I said as I vigorously tried scrubbing the red color out of my white corset. I did this for five minutes until I heard a knock at the door.

“O-One second,” I choked out in between sobs.

“Y/N, babe, it's me” I immediately felt at peace as I heard my best friend’s voice on the other side of the door.

“Eddie?” I opened the door to Eddie Munson’s puppy dog eyes trying to search my face for what happened. “Where were you?!” I was so mad he wasn’t here earlier, none of this would have happened if he were here. “I stopped for a gram,” Eddie says as he closes the bathroom door behind him and enters holding up a Ziploc bag with marijuana in it. “Wow Munson, once again choosing weed over your best friend.”

“Well, not necessarily, if I got the weed for my best friend, right?” I cracked my first smirk of the night. “God, Eddie, you should’ve seen me when I first got here tonight. I- I felt like I was on top of the world,” I said as I sat down on the edge of the bathtub. He followed my lead and sat next to me as he grabbed my hand “I bet you looked beautiful,” I smiled again and was finally calm enough to tell him what happened. Eddie was fuming. His eyes turned dark and probably would have killed Steve if he was in the room with us. “I’m so sorry, babe,” he took a slight pause, I could tell he was trying to choose his words carefully. “Look, let’s get you out of this tiny bathroom and try to finish this night on a good note, shall we?” Eddie says as he stands up and holds out his hand for me to take it. “Eddie, look at me. I can’t go out there with a huge red stain on me,” “Sure you can! Your version of Princess Leia is sexy AND got shot,” I finally grabbed his hand as I agreed with him, “gory, I like it.” He pulls me to my feet and we exit the bathroom and make our way to the couch in the living room.

It didn’t take long for Eddie to get high off of his ass while I decided to remain sober for the rest of the night. It also wasn’t long after Eddie and I came out of the bathroom that we saw Nancy run down the stairs and into the arms of Jonathan Byers before getting in his car and leaving the party completely. “Well, I guess Harrington isn’t getting any pussy tonight after all,” Eddie sheepishly said while cracking up at his own joke. As much as I wanted to laugh with him, I couldn’t help but get stuck in my thoughts and think about what could’ve gone down in that upstairs bathroom. I hated Steve Harrington but I still loved Nancy Wheeler and hoped to god that my presence at that party didn’t just ruin their relationship. I slapped Eddie’s arm to get him to stop laughing as we saw the most pitiful, distraught Steve Harrington basically dragging himself down Tina’s stairs.

“Man, Steve must be really… really deprived of some action,” He deserved it. Steve deserved to be made fun of for how he looked right now after how he treated me tonight, but I couldn’t joke back with Eddie right now. Why couldn’t I joke back? I watched as Steve walked with his head pulled as close to his chest as he could as he walked out of the party towards his car. I knew how much he had been drinking that night and couldn’t believe he was leaving. I started to stand up and Eddie immediately pulled me back onto the couch while holding my arm, “Where are you going?!” He asked me with almost a demanding tone. “Steve is probably drunker than half the people at this party and that’s saying a lot,” Eddie looked up at me with his eyebrows furrowed and an ‘okay, and?’ look was plastered all over his face. I rolled my eyes at him, “What kind of Good Samaritan would I be if I let a reckless 19 year old drive drunk in our small town?” Eddie’s face softened and after a few seconds he let go of my arm, I gave him a small smile as I stood up off the couch to chase after Steve. Out of breath from running, I yelled out “Steve!” He turned around and looked at me with confusion and then made the most surprised face, eyes wide with shock, but also full of sadness.

“Can I help you?” He questioned my presence but he couldn’t even look me in the eyes.

“Steve, you can’t drive like this,” I say with a pleading voice. “And why is that, Y/N?” He didn’t sound angry, just annoyed. “You’re drunk as fuck, Steve. You barely made your way down the stairs inside. Please, let me drive you home,”

“Why would you want to drive me home?” “Look, I owe you one a-after that night,” He looked like he could’ve started to cry. “I don’t deserve it Y/N, just pretend that you didn’t see me,” that angered me. Steve made me so angry. Maybe I should just let him get in his car and drive away. But I knew I would never be able to forgive myself if anything happened to him all because I was too petty to take him home. “Steve, please let me help.” The way I said the word help must have sparked something in him, maybe it reminded him of the night I was only able to choke out that word before he finally agreed to take me to the hospital. His caramel eyes softened the same way my best friend’s did and said “Yeah, okay, you can drive me home,” He goes to sit in the passenger seat as I hold out my hand to him. “Oh hell no. You have lost passenger privileges Stevie boy. Maybe next time you should be a little nicer to ‘scar face’ and you would be able to sit in the comfy front seat, get in the back,” Steve looked up in my eyes for the first time that since I ran after him, there was a mix of guilt and shock behind them as he accepted his defeat, closing the car door of the passenger side and getting into the back seat. I took a deep breath before getting into the driver’s seat of Steve Harrington’s beloved car.

chapter 1 →

chapter 3 →

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve stranger things #steve x reader #eddie munson #stranger things x you #enemies to lovers

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radiowallet · 2 years

Note

Once again, I am asking that you share with the masses someone who inspires me. My next victim shoutout is to Lils (@asta-lily / @lils-does-art)

Lils was one of the first people to ever reach out to me on this Hellsite (affectionate) after I first started posting. She immediately extended her friendship, and I totally didn't fangirl out because I had already been admiring her works for some time. Lils inspires me in so many ways: To do what brings me joy, to treat others with kindness, to tell silly jokes, to shamelessly and effortlessly flirt, and on top of that, to be talented as all get out! I remember the first time I read Wednesday. I think I sat in silence for solid five minutes when I finished, trying to wrap my head around how someone could tell such a heartwarming little tale so effortlessly. It was gorgeous. I loved it. But also, her story The Prince of Dorne is just... UNF. I love it so much. Her modern Oberyn is sexy, smart, a little chilling at times in a weirdly hot way, possibly has a sex dungeon, and I've loved every chapter that's followed. But Lils doesn't stop there. Her art??? Javi G with his tiddies out? Men with tiddies for days, PLEASE Lils, we're mere mortals, do you wish to harm us?? That's how Lils inspires me. With her talent, humor, and wonderful self. Also, with tiddies. 💜💜💜

So eloquently put and so very right. @asta-lily please come get all the love! You are so very deserving and I, like Jess, am so glad to have had you reach out to me 🖤

And tiddies.

#fandom!inspiration!celebration!#follower celebration

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darlingmulti · 3 years

Text

Yes, Chef (Chef!Seokjin x Waitress! Y/N)

Description-

You work as a waitress in a crummy restaurant in the middle of hick-ville. One day, a handsome new chef comes in and changes the scenery. Chef Jin is hot and talented and you immediately fall head over heels for him. Despite his good looks, the two of you don't get along. There is never a moment where the two of you don't fight. One night after you clock out, your grabbed, and end up in the back room... pressed against Jin's hot body? Will your fantasy finally become reality?

Pairing- Chef!Seokjin X Waitress!Y/N

Rating- 18+

Word count- 10.3k

Genre- smut, angst, slice of life, romance, fluff, enemies to lovers

Warnings- choking, degradation, teasing, exhibitionism, voyeurism, use of force, fingering, heavy clit play, nipple play, overstimulation, begging, marking, scratching, biting, masturbation, squirting, praise, spanking, groping, tummy bulge, swearing, hate sex

Playlist-

Grind me Down (Jawster Remix) by Jawster, Liliana Wilde

Flesh by Simon Curtis

Eager by AK diorr., BM

Go Fuck yourself by Two Feet

Piano by Max Changmin

Note-

Shoutout to my bestie @evie3511 for beta reading and helping with the summary!

Teaser-

“You were very bad today…” he whispered softly, and as he did his teeth caught hold of the tip of your ear, causing you to gasp and jerk your head away.

“I-I’m sorry?” you whimpered.

“You just keep fighting with me.” he whispered, his voice filled with emotion you couldn’t understand.

“You keep fighting with me,” You replied, chewing your bottom lip. This position wasn’t one you expected to be in with Jin ever, especially after tonight, but here you were, standing caged in his arms against his strong chest.

He dropped his head on your shoulder, and his warm breath tickled your neck, causing goosebumps to rise up along your skin, “I want you so bad,” He whispered against you, placing a kiss against your neck.

Before you could think you were replying, “I want you too,” the words spilled out much too naturally. You felt anticipation shoot through you as he chuckled against your neck, beginning to litter kisses along your hot skin.

You leaned tiredly against the cooler in the kitchen at work, eyes glued to your phone as you scrolled aimlessly through your instagram feed. Work had been an absolute nightmare today, though slow there were several tiny rushes throughout the day, and just when you thought you could leave one of the servers called in.

The managers had begged you to stay, citing how you were the best server, and they couldn’t possibly do it without you. After agreeing now all you could do was regret it, even if you might make some extra money it just wasn’t really worth it to you with how tired you were… not to mention dealing with people… ew.

“Y/N!!!” Your close friend, Jessie, could be heard squealing from across the kitchen excitedly, running over and grabbing your arm, “Did you hear the news??”

“What news?” You asked curiously, looking up lazily from your phone and raising your eyebrows.

“There’s a new cook!! He’s upstairs right now apparently!” She exclaimed, eyes shining brightly at the prospect of fresh meat. This was a restaurant after all, the majority of employees were female, any man was sized up by all of the girls as soon as he crossed the threshold. You tried your best not to do that, having given up on the prospect of meeting any good guys here. No matter what there was always a prettier server, or the guy had some fatal flaw, sometimes he didn’t even stay for more than a couple weeks.

“Oh wow,” you said, unenthused, your eyes trailing back to your phone screen, thumb poised to resume scrolling.

“I’ve heard he’s suuuuper hot, and- get this, he’s foreign!” She squealed excitedly, jumping up and down like a child.

“Jessie, come on. Why would a foreigner want to come work here? Who told you he was hot??” You asked, looking back up to indulge your dramatic friend.

“I don't know why, but he’s definitely foreign.. Well he apparently lived in Korea for a couple years.” she said thoughtfully, and then looked back to you to answer the next question, “He was here a couple days ago to get shown around, Elaina told me all about him. I guess she got to talk with him a little bit, she said he’s hot.”

Elaina was the restaurant's biggest slut, always finding new guys to screw. If it didn’t work out with one it wasn’t a problem, there was always another one. It was no surprise she had gotten to talking with the new guy, she would probably hop on his dick as soon as he walked through the d-

Your brain seemed to malfunction as you heard the kitchen door opening and looked up to see one of the most beautiful men you had ever seen in your entire life walk into the kitchen.

The first thing you noticed was how tall he was, the second was his insane body proportions. His shoulders were broad and strong, while his waist was kind of small and tapered. His eyes were chocolatey brown, wide and shining, they had a mischievous glint in them. His skin was incredibly clear and a gorgeous golden brown that you had never seen on any of the boys in this nasty town. It was about ninety-nine percent hick country, so seeing a man like this in person was a dream come true.

His hair was pure black and shining, but he quickly covered it with a chef's hat. He was wearing the regular chefs outfit, black jeans and a loose fitting black chefs coat, his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing firm and strong forearms that flexed as he followed one of the other cooks behind the line. He didn’t look nervous in the slightest, in fact he exuded confidence.

“Hey!” Jessie whispered and elbowed you rather hard in the ribs, bringing you back to reality and sending your phone flying out of your hands and onto the floor.

“Seriously!” you exclaimed, trying to act natural as you walked a couple feet to get your phone, glaring at Jessie who was watching you with knowing eyes.

“You were staring so hard dude, your mouth was wide open too!” She giggled and you glanced back at the man who had just come in, grateful he hadn’t seemed to notice you and Jessie just yet.

You shoved her irritably, “Shut up!” you muttered. You turned briskly to walk out of the kitchen, wanting to get away from her teasing and from the handsome man. Your face was getting hot the more you replayed seeing him.

He had plump lips, high cheekbones, a defined nose bridge, strong eyebrows, he was literally perfect.

“You look like you just saw a ghost,” one of your coworkers said as you grabbed a cup absently, wanting to drink some water.

“Oh?” you said absently, acting confused by the statement. You scanned the restaurant. There was only one table in the whole place right now, the rest of the crew would be here any moment, and you were looking at a hopefully busy Saturday evening.

You finished filling your cup and began sipping from it thoughtfully, your mind still on that perfect man. What was his name? What was he like? What did he look like under those loose chefs clothes?

“Excuse me,” you heard a soft, unfamiliar voice say behind you.

You looked up and behind you and could barely contain your shock. That perfect man was inches away from you, locking eyes with you. You wanted to look into them forever, but you thankfully had the sense to pull your eyes away, “Ah, sorry.” You apologized quickly, stepping to the side to let him get to the water gun.

“It’s alright, I’m Jin,” he introduced, holding out his large and gorgeous hand to shake. His fingers were long and slender, and his veins stuck out slightly on the backs of his hands, his nails were trimmed and clean too.

You stared at his hand for one second too long, causing him to raise an eyebrow but you raised your comparatively small hand to shake his, watching it disappear within his warm hand.

Wow… his skin was so soft. Was this guy really a cook? His forearms were completely unmarred, no burns whatsoever.

“I-I’m Y/N.” You introduced. Your voice came out squeaky and anxious sounding- fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, you cursed internally. He probably thought you were a baby talking that way.

“Nice to meet you… That’s a pretty name.” He complimented and smiled at you sweetly, making your heart rate pick up. This man was dazzling! You couldn’t help but think it should be illegal to look this good.

“Thanks!” you said, sounding weird even in your own ears, you should get away before you embarrass yourself further, but he was standing right here looking at you, it would be a waste to walk away now.

“Is Jin short for something?” you asked, feeling dumb as the words left your lips.

“My full name is Kim Seokjin, well it’s Seokjin Kim here.” he corrected, “But I go by Jin since it’s easier for everyone,” he chuckled softly at your dumbfounded expression.

“O-oh, that’s cool.” you stuttered out, “So… that’s korean?” you questioned. That’s right, you encouraged yourself, keep the ball rolling.

He nodded affirmatively, “I was born there.” he stated.

“Oh that’s cool! Why are you all the way over here, then?” you asked.

“My parents have been out here a couple years now, they’re getting older, figured I should come live around here and take care of them. I saw an ad online for a sous chef position so I figured I would apply.”

“Well… that’s nice of you.. I’m uh- glad you’re here.” you said, and smiled what you hoped was a nice smile, and not too awkward.

He snickered and shook his head, “Well thanks!” he said and started to walk back to the kitchen. You were about to follow him when you heard an annoying sing-song voice behind you.

“Hello~~~!! You must be Jin!!”

‘There goes Elaina,’ you thought as her sickly sweet smelling perfume hit your nose as she walked past you. She went up and tapped the large man's shoulder, grinning as she confidently introduced herself.

You sighed and walked away to the counter in the middle of the restaurant, leaning your head dejectedly on your arm. You would give anything to have more time to talk with him… but with all the other girls it would probably be impossible. He certainly wouldn’t pay you much attention once he got a look at all the other damsels that worked here… Even with your lack of hope though, your eyes travelled to your hand where you could still feel the warmth of his wrapped around yours. It couldn’t hurt to dream…

~~~~

The dinner rush was in full swing, you were juggling six tables, the kitchen was backed up with orders, and the restaurant was packed with people, conversations echoing off the walls as the printer at the bar went off almost nonstop. The bartender was cranking out drinks for the servers like crazy.

“Excuse me ma’am, how much longer on my order!” One of your particularly annoying tables called, snapping her fingers at you as you were rushing by with dirty plates to take to the back.

“Not much longer, miss.” you replied hastily and offered an apologetic smile.

“Can you check? Did you even put it in?”

“Of course I can! So sorry, miss!” you said and smiled before turning away, your expression dropping immediately. What did she think you were doing carrying all these dirty plates? Of course you would check if you were going in the kitchen, that was literally just common sense.

You came back into the kitchen, briskly kicking the door open and setting the plates down before striding down to the ticket line where the expo was plating whatever food he could and shouting at the cooks for more fries.

Jin was sauteeing something and the other two cooks were hard at work on the grill, fryers, and salad station. Jin’s expertise was obvious, even in a new environment he was shining.

“Hey how long on this ticket,” you muttered to the expo. You wished you could stare at Jin all night long, but you had customers to please, and besides you had already given up on your fantasies about him. The most your relationship would amount to would be casual friendship, if even that.

Yours was actually second in the line and as the expo looked it over, he realized only one thing was missing and it was actually on Jin’s side.

“Hey Jin, do you have the tostadas coming?” He called.

“Tostadas?” Jin called back, looking up in confusion at the expo, his brow was furrowed and sweat was dripping down his temples. Fuck. How could you focus on anything with him being THAT fine. Some of the other servers had come in to pine over the line and agonize over how hot the new chef was.

Yet even his hotness couldn’t distract as he said, “I don’t have a ticket for that.” and turned around flippantly.

“What do you mean?” The expo called, grabbing the ticket and pushing it across the shelf for Jin, who turned around to take it, looking it over intently.

“I made that already.” he argued, and pushed the ticket back at the expo, again turning away to continue his sautee job. You could feel your blood beginning to boil, and there was the fatal flaw. He might be a good cook, but he had a shitty attitude.

“Well we don’t have it!” You interrupted loudly, “I need tostadas ASAP!”

“Are you the expo?” He asked calmly, cocking an eyebrow at you. Ugh, he was so hot even being as big of a dick as he was being.

‘Don’t get sidetracked, you have a job to do,’ you thought to yourself.

“No, but who cares? Make me my tostadas!”

Jin rolled his eyes and pointedly turned away as the expo finished the first order and called out tiredly, “Jin can you please make me an order for tostadas ASAP?”

“Of course I can,” he said and glared at you before turning back around to continue.

“Glad to know we have another asshole cook on the team!” You called childishly, making the other waitresses gasp. You went back out on the floor without a care to go deal with the rest of your tables, and reassure your woman that her food was in fact coming up. This wasn’t going to be fun.

~~~~

The night had finally slowed to a stop and you were getting ready to leave for the evening, printing your reports and organizing all of your checks at a table. As you were sitting you heard a voice coming from around the wall between the booth and the server station, and paused at the sound of your name.

“She’s always like that, you’re not an asshole.” Elaina was saying, her voice that annoying, honey sweet tone she took with men she was trying to impress.

“I won’t let any servers walk all over me,” Jin was heard saying, sounding nonchalant.

“Oh of course not!! You shouldn’t!! She’s a bitch because she’s jealous. She has always been the le-”

“Sorry, but I’m not here to gossip or talk crap. Thank you for the encouragement though,” Jin could be heard cutting her off, before you heard the door to the kitchen creak open as he walked away from her. You sighed and rolled your eyes, at least Elaina’s plan to use you as a tool to get with him didn’t work.

You were certainly bitchy earlier, that you would admit, but he didn’t help the situation either acting the way he did. You finished doing your report and slid out of the booth tiredly, it didn’t matter, tomorrow was another day…

~~~~

Situations like the one that night seemed to happen all too frequently between you and Jin despite your best efforts. You really didn’t want to fight with him, he was unbearably attractive, smart, a good cook, and his voice was like silk, yet every night seemed to be a new battle.

First it was french fries taking too long, next it was the steak being overcooked, and the next it was an item rang in wrong, it was all trivial but it just seemed to add up. Everyday you saw him it became more and more tense between you two, you hated it, because despite all of that you were crushing on him. Not only was he hot, but he could be incredibly sweet at times. Plus he was so cute, and his jokes were hilarious. He never told them to you, but every time you heard them you couldn’t help but giggle at the stupidity of them.

Your work day was starting off shitty, as was normal. Jin hadn’t said hello to you when you came in, two servers called off, and the restaurant was in shambles when you arrived. Not to mention it was eighty-five degrees outside, you hadn’t slept well, and you had had a large fight with your parents before leaving for work.

It was a dumb fight,just more nagging from them about your life. It seemed like nothing you did was good enough. You were trying your best... At times you just felt like you were fighting an uphill battle. Today you had no energy to fight with Jin, and you certainly weren’t prepared for the dinner rush.

It was the wing bar that night. The crowd came in a tidal wave of people, more than you or any of your coworkers had expected or been prepared for and within the first hour you were so swamped you didn’t know what to do. You simply couldn’t keep up with everything that was happening.

Food, checks, orders, tables, greeting, running, pre-bussing, it was all too much for you, especially with the heat and the tiredness. Food was coming out at a decent rate thankfully, but one table just simply could not be satisfied.

You were feeling worse and worse as the time ticked by, and had no fight left in you to deal with difficult entitled customers, but duty called.

“Ma’am, ma’am come here!” You heard and couldn’t help but sigh at the familiar obnoxious voice. You knew this table would be a problem when they had first complained about the bugs outside, and then returned a drink because it ‘definitely wasn’t made right’, what could it possibly be now?

You turned around hesitantly and put on your best invested, and apologetic smile, their food had been dropped by the runner probably a couple minutes ago now, all mostly wings.

“What can I do for you?” You asked, faking sweetness while inside you were cursing at this nasty woman and her teenagers.

“I don’t know what kind of restaurant this is, but the food and the service here is just unacceptable.”

“I’m… sorry?” You said, unable to hide how taken aback you were. What was she even talking about?

“First of all, this is cold!” she pushed her ribs away in disgust, “These wings are cold, everything is COLD! Second, this place is filthy and obviously not being run properly. Look at you! You can’t seem to get it together for the life of you, and you should take something for all that sweating you’re doing. This has been horrendous!!” She exclaimed again and leaned back with a huff, arms crossing over her chest.

You weren’t sure what to say. Usually, you would offer to have the food remade but it didn’t feel worth it to you. You could feel your eyes growing hot and your hands were balling up, “I’m so sorry. I’ll go get my manager.” You said and walked away briskly, even as she shouted for you to come back. A few of your other tables looked at you sympathetically as you went inside and beelined to the kitchen, feeling frustration as your tears spilled over freely as soon as the door opened.

“M-Miles!” You stuttered out meekly at your manager who was currently helping expo, he immediately looked up hearing your weak voice, eyes widening.

“Y/n, what happened?”

“M-my table is r-really upset right now and I- I think you should go talk to them,” you said, barely managing to get out your words as you felt tiny sobs going through you. You were so tired of everything right now. It was one thing to have a table yell about food, but to also insult you in front of your face was painful and humiliating.

“About what? Which table?” he prodded, rubbing your arm in an attempt to comfort you.

“Table eighty three,” you sniffled, “She said that, that the food was cold and that I was terrible and yeah… just please go out there.”

“Okay, okay, just take a breather, drink some water.” He said and quickly stepped out to go and talk with the furious table.

You groaned and wiped at your face, feeling your embarrassment only growing as Jin came from behind the line with a water bottle, “Come here,” he ordered and placed a hand on the small of your back while handing you the water bottle and leading you to the walk in cooler.

You didn’t even have enough sense to question why he was being nice to you, your head was pounding and you were overly aware of how hot and wet you were. Not to mention you were pretty much sobbing right now, despite your best efforts to hold it together.

“Drink the water,” He said calmly as he opened the cooler and led you inside, the feeling of cold air against your body was an intense relief, it helped you physically, but you were still reeling over everything. Even now you felt like you needed to run and take care of all of the tables you weren’t at right now. The rush was close to done but it was still upon you.

You did as you were told though, breaking the seal and sipping from it. As soon as the cool liquid touched your lips you realized how thirsty you were and drank from it messily, closing your eyes and leaning your head back, hearing the bottle crinkle up as you took in every last drop of it before your hand fell to your side. You used your free hand to wipe at your face, taking deep breaths to calm yourself.

“Better?” Jin asked, leaning against one of the shelves with an almost amused expression.

You had forgotten he was standing there watching you and your eyes flitted away from his face just as soon as they had gone there. You nodded quietly, chewing your lip, trying to calm your racing heart. It was amazing what the cold and water could do for you, you thought.

“You need to take better care of yourself,” he chastised, moving closer and rather suddenly reaching out and cupping your cheek with the palm of his hand. You looked up, dumbfounded. One hand subconsciously came up to touch his arm while your hand holding the water bottle crinkled it loudly. “You’re obviously having a hard time, and you aren’t drinking enough water… no matter how busy it is you come first.”

You nodded quietly, still unsure of what to do about his hand.

“I didn’t bother you today right?” he asked, leaning ever so slightly closer, you could make out the flecks of gold in his brown eyes at this angle, and his skin was flawless.

“N-no,” you squeaked out.

“I notice a lot more than you think I do…” he said, and you bit your lip feeling his hand fall carelessly against your side, fitting against you almost too well. You felt a tingle in your breasts, and just knew that if you were to look now both nipples would be hard and pressing against your bra. You were grateful you wore a padded one today.

“L-like what?”

“I knew you were upset as soon as you walked in.”

“Oh…?”

He brought his thumb gently across your lips, “These pretty lips were frowning, and those eyes barely even looked at me…” he whispered. You could clearly hear your heart pounding in your ears. What was happening right now?

“You were much too quiet… if you ever have any problems I’m always willing to help you out.”

You gasped as he tilted your head up to look into his eyes, “Do you got that?”

You nodded dumbly, biting the inside of your lip as your eyes moved down to his plush lips, appreciating the smoothness of his face. You really wanted to reach up to touch it, maybe it wouldn’t hu-

“Chef!”

The two of you jumped apart and you immediately turned and grabbed your forehead, acting miserable.

“Yes?” He asked. His voice was icy as he turned around to face Elaina, who was standing in the doorway looking slightly confused and frazzled.

“Sorry to interrupt… They need you back on the line. The others can’t keep up.” She said.

He nodded and looked back at you, “You all right?”

You nodded quickly, not feeling confident enough to speak.

“Come out when you’re ready.” He said and walked out, shutting the cooler behind him.

You let out a soft gasp of air that you hadn’t realized you had been holding, your whole body zinging with energy… if he could make you feel this way with such a simple touch, imagine how he could make you feel…

You shook your head quickly, ridding yourself of those thoughts. He was just being nice, that was it. It was never going to happen.

You spent a couple more minutes inside, calming down before you finally stepped out to finish the evening off right.

~~~~

A couple days later, and you were still thinking about that night in the cooler. You replayed it in your head multiple times during the day. Whenever you masturbated you thought heavily of him inside you, of his eyes boring into yours, of his honey sweet voice in your ear whispering your name.

You thought about Jin for at least seventy five percent of your days, even when you were off all you could think of was him.

“Y/N, you have a table at thirty three.”

You immediately snapped out of your thoughts and looked up at the host before leaving the kitchen to get the table started. It was slow today, besides Jin there was one other cook working. It was supposed to be an easy table- that was until they complained about the menu, and then basically tried to modify something into a completely new thing. You did your best to be polite and said you would ask the chef about accommodating them. You walked in nervously, and called out, “Hey, Jin?”

“Yes?” He asked, looking up from the sandwich he was cutting in half.

You shyly listed off the modifications, and he stared at you with an annoyed expression, cocking an eyebrow as you finished, “Are you actually serious?”

You nodded slowly. His attitude was getting you angry already.

“Well, first of all we don’t have cucumbers, you know that. Second, we don’t have seasoning to blacken a fucking salmon, you also know that. Third, I can’t even respond to the rest because it’s honestly not worth my time. Use your brain,” He said flippantly.

How was he the same person as the one in the cooler that time?

What was his problem?

“Are you done now?” You asked, immediately catching an attitude. Just because he was hot didn’t mean he could talk to you like that.

“Excuse me?” He asked, looking up through his gorgeous lashes dangerously.

“Are you done being a dick? I’m just doing my job, which is to satisfy my customers. Your job is to answer my questions, not give me snobby replies and act like a prick.”

“My job is to cook food, not cater to your needs. Quit wasting my time, and go take care of your idiot table.” he ordered.

“Will you make my order?”

“Is it going to have stupid modifications that I can’t fulfill, if so, then no. If you’re going to keep being a bitch then I also won’t be making your order. Quit wasting your time.”

You huffed angrily, and the two of you began going back and forth insulting each other, growing louder and louder until your manager came in to calm the situation and split you guys up. You huffed angrily, cheeks red, and practically ran from the kitchen to ring in your ridiculous and ‘stupid’ order. Now you didn’t care if they couldn’t do it. They would do it.

~~~~~

The rest of the evening after the fight was tense, and you were grateful that when you left Jin was nowhere to be seen. In the end, they had made the order almost perfectly, and the table left happily so you supposed that was all that mattered.

You couldn’t stop thinking about the fight though, you had both said some pretty bad things. You wondered if you guys could ever really get along.

You were walking quietly down the empty employee halls heading to the clock out, it was late since you had got stuck doing extra side work, so everyone had mostly gone home for the night.

You were mid sigh when you felt a large hand clasp over your mouth while a strong arm snaked around your waist and pulled you into one of the side boiler rooms, causing a muffled shriek to leave your lips as the person kicked the door open and you heard a familiar silky voice say, “Shh, behave.”

You froze and blinked, looking around the low lit and frankly dirty room. There were a couple machines running that were always on, running the building, resonating with a persistent hum.

You struggled violently to get out of Jin’s strong grip but he only held tighter, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your arm, hand firmly over your mouth until you finally gave up with an indignant groan. You knew it was Jin, but that was it. Your stomach was churning with anxiety and anticipation as he held you tightly in his grasp against his hot body. Your head at his chest.

“Are you done?” he whispered coolly against your ear, his tone slightly mocking.

You shuddered and nodded.

“I’m gonna move my hand, if you scream you’ll really be sorry.” he threatened.

Did you have a reason to scream? You wondered.

Sure Jin was being strange, but there was nothing to be worried about… right?

As his hand slid away you quickly asked, “What are you doing?”

He was silent for a while, wrapping his now free arm tightly around you in an iron like bind. Both of his arms were pressing against your chest, and you could feel your heart racing against your rib cage the longer he stood silently holding you.

“You were very bad today…” he whispered softly, and as he did his teeth caught hold of the tip of your ear, causing you to gasp and jerk your head away.

“I-I’m sorry?” you whimpered.

“You just keep fighting with me.” he whispered, his voice filled with emotion you couldn’t understand.

You tilted your head back to allow better access and then felt a zing of new fear go through you.

No. This was bad. This was very bad you needed to get away. You were literally at work, in a back hall where anyone could just walk in… Maybe had you been somewhere else this would be more appropriate?

“Are you insane?” You gasped, suddenly trying to jerk away again, pulling your head away from his lips.

“Are you?” He asked and pushed one of his arms down around your waist, driving your ass back into his center where you could feel his rising excitement. This couldn't be happening. His other hand easily found purchase on your breasts, groping you over your shirt and bra. You moaned out involuntarily at the friction and then bit your lip to try and quiet yourself.

Were you dreaming?

“That’s right you fucking whore… this is what you wanted all along hm?”

“W-what are you talking about?” you panted. It was embarrassing how you felt right now. You wanted to get away, you wanted to get out right now, but you couldn’t bring yourself to struggle… your body would never forgive you for wasting this chance.

“Do you like to tease me?” he asked, and the hand that had been on your breast suddenly was wrapping around your throat as he pushed your head up and back against his shoulder, causing you to squeak as his eyes met yours.

Oh fuck.

You tried to shake your head, but you were totally incompacitated with his hand wrapped around you like this. The hand around your waist slithered up and he began quickly undoing the buttons on your uniform.

You weakly began to struggle, suddenly feeling anxiety shoot through you. You had just finished working, what if you were gross? A sick part of you wanted this, craved it, but the rational part of you was screaming at you to get out of there.

His hand eased on your throat only slightly and you gasped for air, causing him to laugh cruelly before he released your throat and turned you around to face him, his eyes were filled with desire and lust. It caught you so off guard you didn’t even have time to react before he was forcing you against the wall.

“I know you want me.” he said softly, strong arms caging you in on either side.

“I- I don’t know what you’re t-”

He cut you off by aggressively pressing his lips against yours, one hand grabbing your chin while the other began kneading your breast again, making you gasp and moan as his warm lips moved against yours. At first you tried to pull away, to stop the kiss, but his mouth felt so soft and his touch felt so good you couldn’t help yourself. Your eyes fluttered closed and one hand came up to grab the arm that was raised against your cheek.

A part of you knew this was wrong, and you knew that a normal person would be afraid of this large man, but you weren’t. You were completely overpowered with lust that had been stewing ever since he had walked through those doors.

Who cared if someone walked in? A part of you wished someone would.

Who cared if you weren’t in pristine condition? He clearly didn’t.

His hands found your legs and you let out a shocked squeak as he lifted you, forcing you to wrap your legs around his waist while your back leaned against the wall. Your arms quickly wrapped around his neck as well and he smiled down at your shocked expression.

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” he breathed as his nimble fingers took up unbuttoning your shirt again.

“M-me too,” you stuttered earnestly, already a desperate and needy mess, especially with the slight pressure of him against your core.

“Really,” he said, his voice lowering and one of his eyebrows cocking up in an enthused expression.

You were about to reply, but his hands were suddenly cupping your bra clad chest, squeezing slightly. You moaned embarrassingly, throwing your head back against the wall as he teased you.

“This is pretty,” He commented, his finger trailing down the outside of your lacy bra.

“Th-thanks,” You stuttered.

“Did you wear it hoping I might see it?” He asked, his hands cupping your breasts again as his dark eyes met yours in the halflight.

You remembered all the times you put on your work outfit you would wonder if Jin would like it. You had wondered if his hands would ever move to unclasp your bra and do all the things you could only fantasize about.

You nodded slightly and he smirked, before his hands were coming behind your back and skillfully unclasping the bra. A part of you wondered how many times he had done this before tonight, but you didn’t really care. He was yours for the night, so what did it matter?

As your bra was loosened he easily slid his hands under it to grope you much easier, his large hands cupping them. You pushed your head against the wall, biting your lip to stifle the moans that were bubbling at your lips. His fingers skillfully found your already hard nipples, running back and forth over them. With each touch of his hand arousal shot through your core.

“J-Jin,” you whimpered as he rolled your sensitive buds between his fingers.

“Yes my dear,” he asked, eyes boring into you.

“W-what if someone sees?” You asked, your breath was coming out faster as he began to play more roughly with your nipples, occasionally groping your chest insistently.

“Hmm… then I guess they’ll know how much of a slut you actually are behind that bitchy exterior,” he said. You huffed as he was suddenly attacking your neck again, trailing to bite your shoulder and collarbone, irritably pushing the fabric of your button up aside.

“F-fuck,” you whispered, shuddering as he began sucking on a spot just below your collarbone, hands still working gracefully on your chest. You could feel the growing wetness of your panties, and you were becoming needy. Unfortunately, Jin had no intentions of rushing the time he had with you, taking his time leaving an array of bruises just below your collarbones, hands still groping your chest.

His mouth finally found yours and as you kissed he helped you get your shirt off the rest of the way, and then gently lowered your feet to the ground to remove your bra as well. You kissed him back feverishly as his hands found your hips, holding them within his massive hand as your mouth opened with his, deepening the already sloppy kiss.

One of his hands went back to your breast, flicking over your nipple and making you squeak against his lips. He chuckled and pulled away, licking his lips as he looked at you standing topless before him.

You felt suddenly exposed but you couldn’t think too much as he was suddenly bringing his head down and gripping one of your breasts, guiding his hot mouth to your nipple. You gasped and shuddered at the feeling of his wet tongue against you, practically lying against the wall as he worked his magic on you, teasing your body cruelly.

You let out a startled gasp as he suddenly slapped your ass hard, the sound echoing in the dark room. He continued to squeeze and grope your ass while his mouth trailed from one breast to the other before reconnecting feverishly with your mouth. His fingers finally began to work at undoing your jeans and you lifted your arms again to wrap around his neck as you made out, to distract you as his hand wasted no time in dipping into your pants.

You moaned loudly and dropped your head against his shoulder to muffle the sound as his fingers dragged along your wet panties, finding your clit easily and beginning to move his middle finger in slow circles.

“You’re practically dripping,” he teased, and you let out a low whine as his finger continued to rub your sensitive bud through your panties. Your stomach was twisting and turning with anticipation, and all you wanted was to feel him inside of you already.

“Hurry up and fuck me!” You gasped as his finger pressed harder against you.

“Someone’s impatient,” He laughed, but made no move to do what you had told him. You reached out boldly and began rubbing over the bulge of his cock in his jeans, moving your own hand in slow circles as he did the same to you.

He didn’t stop you, but he did finally dip his hands beneath your panties, splitting the folds of your dripping cunt with his fingers and making your body shudder hard at the feeling. You kept rubbing his cock, but you were forced to stop as you felt a finger slip into your core, causing you to cry out loudly.

As you pulled back your head he pushed you back against the wall hard and reconnected his lips with yours to quiet you. As he began fingering you, his fingers brushed against your g-spot, drawing out mewls of arousal from your lips. You couldn’t even focus on the kiss, your entire being was focused on his fingers slipping in and out of your core.

You blushed hearing the squelching sounds of your wetness as he began fingering you.

“Let’s get these off of you shall we?” He suggested, and you whined as he pushed your jeans and panties down with ease, as soon as they hit the ground his fingers were dragging back against you, making you shudder and cry out.

“Jin!” you moaned as he suddenly was pushing his fingers inside of you again quickly, wasting no time in beginning to pound in and out of you expertly.

“You’d better quiet down before someone hears you princess,” he whispered darkly, not bothering to slow his pace.

You bit down hard on your lip, your hands reaching out to ground yourself on his shoulders, fingers digging into them as your mouth twisted in pleasure and embarrassment. The sound of your wetness was new even to you. Jin suddenly stopped and you whined out loudly, causing him to laugh softly.

“Sit down over here,” he ordered, and pointed to a chair conveniently placed in the corner of the room, probably left there to be thrown away, but instead forgotten.

“W-what if it’s dirty,” you whimpered.

He smiled softly down at you. You had been reduced to nothing more than his toy at this moment, standing naked in front of him, completely at his mercy. You had to say though, you definitely didn’t mind.

He slowly undid his chef’s coat, sliding it off to reveal a tight black tee shirt beneath it and slowly went to the chair, laying it over the bottom of it. In the half light you could see the definition of his muscles and as he turned around you were wrapping your arms around his neck to sloppily kiss him again while his hands wrapped around your waist, kissing you back just as hard as your hands glided to his chest.

He was just as muscular as you had expected.

“Take off your shirt,” you gasped.

He chuckled and pulled away, slowly grabbing the edges of it and sliding it over his head, revealing his toned abs and strong shoulders.

“Holy shit,” you whimpered, your hands coming to touch his pectoral muscles and running down his body, enjoying the ridges of his abs against your fingertips, stopping at his waist band.

“That’s enough now,” he cooed, “Sit down,” he ordered, pushing you slightly towards the chair.

“But what if-”

“Sit. Down.” His voice took on a more authoritative tone and your stomach twisted.

“O-okay,”

“It’s not okay. It’s, ‘Yes, Chef.’” he ordered.

“Y-yes Chef,” you stuttered, sitting down in the chair slowly.

You bit your lip as Jin dropped to his knees in front of you, looking down at him through anxious eyes. You had no idea what he was planning, or what he wanted.

“Spread your legs,” he ordered and you took a deep breath. You hadn’t expected to be this exposed to him at all. His eyes were boring into you hungrily, and you felt anticipation knotting up your stomach as you slowly spread apart your legs, revealing your wet core to him.

You flinched as he let out a shaking breath, “You’re so fucking hot,” he said, “Such a pretty little whore,”

You looked down at him as you felt his fingers coming up to caress your outer thighs, his fingers trailing over your knees and down your calves. Every touch from his nimble fingers was electric. Yet his hands wouldn’t go near your core, and you were growing desperate.

“T-touch me,” you whimpered.

“Hmm,” he sighed softly, and his fingers went higher up your thighs, “Show me how you want me to touch you,” He breathed and you felt a zing of anxious excitement shoot through you. You had never done something so lewd in front of another person, and you weren’t sure if you could.

“W-what do you mean?” You stalled.

“Take your hand,” he ordered, grabbing your wrist and guiding it to your dripping cunt, “And play with yourself while I watch. Show me how you like it.”

You bit your lip, looking down at him through your lashes, he stared up at you lustfully, his eyes sliding down your body to focus on your center.

You closed your eyes, and leaned back against the chair, your fingers sliding slowly between your folds and running over your clit. You brought up your other hand to gently begin playing with your nipple, sliding your finger back and forth as the one between your legs rubbed up and down against your clit, gliding between the folds.

You shuddered feeling his hot breath against your hand, and you chanced a glance to see he had drawn closer, focusing on your hand as it moved.

You slowly drew your finger down to your own entrance, pushing your finger against the entrance, little moans sliding out of your lips as you began to push a finger in, making Jin moan as well as he watched.

“You really are such a little slut,” he teased, and you mewled as you felt two of his fingers against you, beginning to push apart your folds further, examining your most private area with predatory eyes, “Just imagine if someone came in right now,” he whispered, his hot breath brushing against you as your finger pushed in further.

His talk was making you more excited and more desperate, you wished someone would come in and see this right now.

“Imagine the look on their face when they see you sitting here, touching your pretty little cunt for me.”

The thought alone was making you more worked up, “Chef,” you whimpered, plunging your fingers faster in and out of yourself, sweat was beading on your forehead and beginning to sheen over your body as you became more and more aroused.

“Yes princess,” He crooned, his fingers sliding up either side of your core, making you more crazy and desperate.

“Mmmm,” you couldn’t even speak as one of his fingers ghosted against your clit as you continued to touch yourself, finger flicking more insistently over your nipple, sending shocks of pleasure through you with each stroke.

“Such a good little whore, all for me,” he praised, beginning to rub your clit in slow circles, making you keen softly, biting your lip hard to try and stop the noises that were begging to spew from your lips.

You were drawing close, your thighs beginning to tremble as you attempted to spread your legs further for him, your hand reaching up to your own throat, squeezing the sides in desperation.

“Choking hm,” he whispered, and you whined as you heard him stand. His hands wrapped around both of your wrists, stopping you from bringing yourself to orgasm.

“L-let go,” you begged, attempting to push your fingers back inside but he pulled them out instead, laying your hand on your thigh while he took the hand around your throat and also set that on your thigh.

“I bet I can make you cum twice as hard as you can yourself,” he whispered against your ear, pressing a kiss against your temple. You felt his hands slip down against your core before pushing inside of you once again, this time with a vengeance.

“Oh fuck,” you gasped, and he quickly pressed his lips against yours to stifle you as he began to curl his fingers expertly inside of you. He rubbed that sensitive area with vigor, slowly picking up the pace as his other hand gripped gently on your throat. He was doing everything perfectly, and your body and mind were in ecstasy.

Your hands lifted to grip the offending arm desperately, fingernails digging into his firm arm.

“That’s right, come on Y/N,” He breathed against you, bringing you closer to the edge. You gasped and shuddered as an orgasm was suddenly upon you, causing you to lurch forward against Jin’s shoulder, clawing at his bicep as he carried you through the orgasm, pounding into you hard and fast.

He pulled quickly out of you, giving you a moment to come down, “Ready for another round?” He asked, and you pulled away in shock before he was suddenly rubbing your clit hard and fast, causing you to gasp as the pleasure changed to slight pain as overstimulation set in.

“S-stop… n-no,” You whimpered, your body already beginning to tremble. You were already exhausted from the first one, and you could feel the pressure building up twice as much.

Soon you were too far gone as he was pounding into you once again, sweat dripping down his chest and arms as he pounded in and out of you vigorously, his head against your wet neck.

“I’m-i’m gonna… oh please,” you mewled and your eyes clenched so tight that you saw white. Your body convulsed hard beneath his finger and his hand came over your mouth as your moans grew loud and intense, liquid spewed lewdly from out of you as you came.

He watched with pride as you squirted, body writhing as your wetness covered his hand.

As soon as you finished you felt intense humiliation racing through your veins, and as he went to pull away you grabbed a hold of him tightly, trembling still, your legs clamping closed. You felt like you might cry as you breathed against his chest.

“Good job princess,” he whispered, gently rubbing your thighs and sides before one of his hands was going to rub your back.

“I’m s-sorry,” you squeaked.

“Hm?” He asked, pulling away from you. His strong brows furrowed at your anxious expression.

“I didn’t m-mean to,” you whimpered, looking away from him, your hands holding tightly to his wet arm.

“Oh princess, you were amazing,” he praised, his voice taking on a comforting and almost sweet tone as he kissed your face.

You blushed brightly, taking deep breaths to calm down. You were still embarrassed, but as Jin’s hands ran up and down your sides soothingly, whispering praise against your ear, you slowly relaxed, and your body began begging once again for his cock.

“Will you fuck me now?” You whispered, looking up at him.

“I’m going to make you see stars,” he growled and you gasped as he was yanking you up from the chair and kissing you hard, his tongue invading your mouth feverishly.

You melted into the kiss, and your hands travelled down his well muscled torso to his black jeans. You were quick to undo his pants for him, pushing down the waistband eagerly, while still trying to maintain the kiss.

He separated from your mouth for a moment to pull down his pants, and then his boxers, revealing his hard length.

You gasped seeing how big he actually was, a zap of fear going through you as you wondered if you would be able to take him all. Your hands went to his cock, and you began jerking him off. Rubbing up and down on his hard length. He lifted his hands to your face, tangling his fingers in your hair as he kissed you hard, grunting occasionally as you went.

His mouth eventually left yours to attack the side of your neck, his hands sliding down your body and groping your ass. You were eager to feel him inside of you, just the thought alone making you wetter.

You whimpered as he smacked your ass quite hard and he pulled away from you, “Against the wall,” he ordered suddenly. You looked down and realized the precum beading at the tip of his hard cock.

You felt a flash of excitement and pride, “Yes, Chef,” you said, pulling away and going against the wall.

You heard him bend down and the rip of a package as he slipped on a condom. It was a good thing he thought to do so, because your mind was far from worrying about anything other than having him fill you.

You heard him coming back over and you squeaked as he grabbed your hips, pulling you back. Your palms splayed against the wall and you spread your legs a bit for him as he slid his finger down the length of your spine before pausing and you squeaked as he slapped your ass once again.

“After all the trouble you give me, it’s so good hearing you whine like that,” he said softly, and you gasped as he spanked you again, “You wanted me to punish you didn’t you,” he teased.

“Y-yes Chef,” you said, and as he spanked you once more, you revelled in the sting of it, feeling the way your body reacted to him spanking you. After a few more tears were pricking the corner of your eyes and you were growing needy.

“Oh please fuck me!” You cried out.

He was quiet for a moment, but then you felt his fingers slipping between your lips, pushing your lips apart to give him easier access.

“Alright now princess, be good for me,” he whispered and you waited with bated breath as the head of his cock teased your entrance, he rubbed against your slit a few times, gathering your own wetness all over his cock before he began to push inside of you.

You moaned out and brought one hand to your mouth to stifle the sound as your walls spasmed around him. He was massive, stretching you as he slowly inserted himself deep inside of you. He let out little grunts of his own at the feeling of your body clenching around him.

“I’m in,” he said, leaning down to gently bite your shoulder, making you squeak at the feeling.

“F-fuck me,” you begged, “Just fuck me,”

“So needy,” he commented, before he began slowly sliding in and out of you, causing your muscles to spasm. You bit your lip, trying to stifle any of the sounds that were begging to be released.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he groaned, smacking your ass as he started getting into a rhythm, fucking into you at a steady pace, making you whine and shudder around him. This was more than you could have ever dreamed. With each thrust he would bury himself deep inside of you, head teasing your cervix, before pulling nearly all the way out and then snapping his hips back into you, causing you to cry out at the feeling.

“Are you my little whore?” He growled as he started to pick up the pace.

“Y-yes chef,” you whimpered, feeling your knees growing weak.

“Say it.” He ordered, and you let out a faltering gasp as he suddenly pulled you up, one arm wrapping around your waist to hold you while his other wrapped around your throat, pushing your head back against his chest.

“Ahh, I-I’m your little whore,” you breathed out, gasping as he was suddenly thrusting right into a sensitive area deep inside, with each snap of his hips your body would spasm.

Suddenly you both froze hearing voices coming from somewhere, and adrenaline zapped through your body. Oh fuck, what if they heard you, or worse what if they came in and saw.

He grabbed you tightly and forced you to turn with him to face the door, grabbing one of your breasts, his finger flicking cruelly over your nipple, “Do you think you can keep quiet,” he whispered against your ear, slipping his hand down your abdomen to slide a finger over your clit.

“A-aang,” you gasped, biting your tongue as he began to move his finger in slow circles, the voices were growing closer.

“They’d be so turned on to see you like this,” he whispered, “Totally at my mercy.” He growled, beginning to thrust slowly in and out again, pulling his hand away from your clit to hold you, one hand still wrapped around your throat. You felt tears pricking your eyes as you did your best to keep quiet, your stomach twisting with anxiety and your heart pounding so loud they could probably hear it out there.

He did everything in his power to torment you, fingers running between teasing your nipple and rubbing your clit. Whispering sweet nothings against your ear while occasionally biting your earlobe.

Finally you heard the door to the outside open and it was silent once more.

You let out a shaky sigh and he picked up the pace, his hand splaying across your abdomen. “Good girl,”

“Y-you’re insane,” you whined, and he laughed softly before beginning to fuck you harder, the sound of his skin slapping yours filling the room.

“You’re taking me so well,” he praised, “I can feel my cock hitting your walls,” he whispered in your ear, sending a shiver through your body.

He grabbed your hand, placing it under his against your abdomen. You gasped as he suddenly snapped his hips into you, and you felt the bulge against your hand, making you even more turned on.

“Can you feel it,”

“You’re so fucking big,” you whined as he suddenly started fucking you harder, almost bouncing you on his cock. His hand moved from yours to rub your clit, making you moan loudly. His hand on your throat was snapping over your mouth in an instant to quiet you as you were pushed into orgasm once more, muscles spasming around the large man’s monstrous cock, the feeling of him hitting into your hand was making you crazy.

As you finished he slipped out of you, and you nearly fell, your legs weak. He caught you easily and spun you around, pushing you up against the wall. His hands slipped under your thighs and he was lifting you before you knew it, forcing you to wrap your legs around his hips.

“I’m not done just yet baby,” he whispered. You whimpered, and sighed as he slid his cock back into easily.

“Hmmmm,” You sighed in contentment, your hands wrapping around his neck and tangling in his hair as you leaned forward to kiss him hard.

He didn't even need to lean you against the wall, wrapping his arms around you as he kissed you back just as hard, your walls spasming around his large cock. You felt so full it was blissful.

He finally pressed you back against the wall, and began to pound in and out of you, causing you to throw your head back against the wall as he fucked you.

He was going faster, sweat was dripping from both of you as you were getting closer to orgasm and Jin was right on the edge. He was beginning to spew curse words, his hands gripping your sides hard as he pounded into you. You were almost laying against the wall, if it wasn’t for his hands holding you up and your death grip around his neck you would fall.

“Such a good fucking whore,” He growled, and you gasped as he lifted a hand to grope your breast, flicking his finger over your nipple before you saw his abdomen spasm, his muscles clenching as he groaned out loudly himself. His hand going back, exposing his gorgeous neckline, face twisted in pleasure.

You moaned at the sight, and as the hand on your breast rubbed over your swollen, oversensitive clit you were coming as well, body spasming for the fourth time in orgasm as he held you tightly. As you both finished finally you pulled yourself up onto him, dropping your head against his shoulder and taking gasping breaths, your entire body exhausted.

You felt his cock slip out of you and he held you tightly, a hand going to your head, running his fingers through your hair, breathing just as deeply as you.

“How are you?” He asked.

“Tired,” you muttered, you weren’t sure yet if you could stand on your own.

“Think you’ll be able to drive home?” He asked, rubbing your back in slow circles.

You let out a soft sigh, “Ohhhh, fuck,” you groaned. You had completely forgotten about the thirty minute drive home, and already your body was so sore and tired. You wanted to sleep more than anything.

“You can stay the night with me,” he offered sweetly.

“Are you sure,” you muttered.

“Get dressed,” He ordered, helping you disentangle yourself from him and finding your clothes for you.

You struggled slightly getting yourself dressed. You would need to go to the bathroom asap, but you wondered if he would leave you behind if you did. Not that it would matter. Jin put on his clothes, folding up his chef's coat from the chair and folding it over his arm.

You looked at it and felt a dark blush cover your cheeks, “I’m sorry… about that.” you said, gesturing to the chef's coat.

Jin chuckled darkly, “It was sexy,” he said, shrugging and grinning from ear to ear.

You looked away shyly, “Th-thanks… and I- I’m sorry about today too. I was just frustrated and-” Jin came forward, placing a finger against your lips.

“Hush. We’re already past that… you made up for it… Besides it was more me than you that was being an asshole.” He admitted, and leaned forward to kiss your forehead.

“I really like you,” you blurted. Perhaps it was the exhaustion, or the fact this man had given you four of the best orgasms of your life, but you were suddenly ready to bare your soul to him.

You didn’t want this to be a one time thing… well maybe just once here. You didn’t want to go back to the strained relationship.

“Well I gathered that,” he said, rolling his eyes at you.

“I-I mean it… I…”

“Princess, we don’t need to talk about this right now.” He said, caressing your cheek, “We smell like sex and sweat, and we’re standing in a filthy back room at work… let’s go back to my place okay? We can take a shower and talk more,” he promised.

You nodded slowly, that sounded heavenly… but still.

“Th-that’s fine but, we won’t go back to how things were before right?… We aren’t gonna fight anymore?”

“I’m tired of pretending I like you less than I do,” he said, smiling sweetly at you before coming over to you.

He placed his arm around you and slowly opened the door, looking both ways before stepping out and taking you outside into the cold air. As soon as you got to his car and sat down in the passenger seat you were out like a light…

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shorkbrian · 3 years

Text

We’re on mobile again lads, too tired to commit to getting my laptop out. Shoutout to the anon that taught me how to do the readmore thing on mobile ty.

Anyways, Bakugou and Kirishima being professional Creeps

(Warnings - dead dove, do not eat. NSFW, graphic rape. Disassociation. Vomit mention (no actual vomit), one weird, incesty comment made by Bakugou)

You’re walking down the street, groceries in hand. It’s dark out, but you aren’t worried. You’ve taken this way home so many times before that you could walk it with your eyes closed, today you had just gotten sidetracked by a cute dog while getting your groceries, so it was a bit later than you were used to. But you had your mace in your pocket, your phone in your hand - you’d be able to call for help if something were to happen

You’re pumped to get home - you had bought a new flavor of your favorite brand of ice cream. Something new and exciting, you were going to put on a movie, sit on the couch, and do a little taste test.

You’re passing a side street, the one with the tiny sand which shop on the corner, where you sometimes stop for lunch. Maybe you’ll go there tomorrow, it’s been a while since you’ve had a hefty sandwich.

Where they came from, you don’t know. But one moment your walking along, minding your business, and the next moment your being dragged to the side, a hand over your mouth, muffling your yell of suprise.

There isn’t even time to scream. You hear a car door open, and then you’re being manhandled up and into the back of a van. At least, you think it’s a van.

Hands are all over your body, holding you down, pressing over your mouth, wrenching your arms behind your back, shoving your face into the floor of the van. Far too many hands for one person.

“Rope? Give it here.” A rough voice sounds behind you, and everything’s happening so fast, you’re not even sure what’s happening.

Someone’s looping rope around your arms, tying knots, tightening them until yours arms ache at the uncomfortable stretch, and the rope is biting painfully into your skin.

You struggle briefly, trying to push your head up, shake free of the hand over your mouth, tell them to wait, to stop.

The man behind you is hauling you into his lap, kicking your legs apart and keeping them spread with his own. He has a hand over your mouth - he’s the same one who grabbed you - and his other hand is kneading at your breast. He punches it through your shirt, and you shriek.

“Stay still, don’t wanna cut you sweetie.” There’s a flash of something sharp being waved around in the darkness. It’s so dark inside the van, you can hardly see. There’s a man in front of you.

Two men, one behind, one in front.

The man before you is stocky, big - you can feel his size as he moves between your spread legs, as his hands grab at your clothes.

You hear the snip of scissors, everything’s moving too fast, you can’t think, you can’t breathe.

One moment you’re safe, the next moment you aren’t.

Clothes are being cut off, it feels weird being bare like this, and it’s wrong, and you grab onto that thought. As soon as the scissors stop moving, you thrash in the first man’s hold, but a quick slap to your naked thigh has you spooking like a rabbit, going deathly still.

There’s fight, flight, or freeze.

“Ei, grab the vibe.” The first voice, the rough one, grumbles from behind you.

The large man in front of you, Ei, leans to the side, still wedges between your thighs. He roots around for a second, before straightening, holding something.

There’s a click, then a buzzing sound, and then you’re crying.

He’s holding a vibrator against your cunt, rubbing it up towards your clit, and it feels good but it’s so sudden.

It’s overwhelming, and you don’t know how you ended up like this.

You arch, a whine bubbling out of your throat, muffled by the calloused hand clamped tight against your mouth. It hurts, but it feels good, but it’s too much.

The man, Ei keeps moving it, following your body no matter how you try to shrink away, wiggle to the side, try to buck his hand off. There’s no escape.

You don’t know how long it takes you to cum. Have you been in the van long?

“Hah, I think the little whore liked that.” The man behind you taunts as Ei turns the vibratory off, tossing it to the side. You’re boneless in the rough man’s arms, exhausted by your orgasm.

Still, there’s so much adrenaline and fear coursing through your body that you feel keyed up. But the fear is muted, soft, unreachable. There’s only what’s happening, and you can’t do anything about it.

Everything feels so weird.

“Kat, here.” You’re being handed over to the soft man, Ei, and the man behind you, Kat, shuffles around.

“Her mouth looks so fucking soft... can’t wait.” You can hear Kat’s grin as you’re laid flat on your back, arms trapped painfully behind you.

You try to say something, but your throat’s dry, and your head feels fuzzy, and maybe this is just some twisted, sick dream.

Your upper half is wrenched to the side, shoulders pulled onto Kat’s lap. Something soft and fleshy taps your face, and you cringe away.

“Bite me, and I’ll end your shit.”

“Kats, chill.”

“Awh, shut up softie. I know you’re fucking aching to get inside her little cunt. Look at how hard you are, damn Ei.”

Kat snickers, and you finally make the connection that the velvet tapping roughly against your lips is a cock.

“The plush ones always make you cum in like, two fucking seconds. It’s cause you’re a mommas boy, ain’t it?”

The man easing your thighs open shrugs. “Guess so.”

“Your mom was fucking hot though, makes sense.”

Ei huffs out a laugh, and you feel pressure ashe eases into your cunt. But you can’t focus on that, not when Kat is growling at you to open up.

You get the feeling that if you don’t open your mouth, something bad will happen.

You open your mouth.

The next few minutes, you don’t even really know what’s happening. Ei’s fucking your pussy, hands gripping your waist as he uses you like a living fleshlight. Kat is thrusting into your mouth, groaning and hissing when your throat closes up around him.

You feel like you might throw up.

Ei keeping groping your flesh, slapping at your tits, pinching and stroking and his hands feel so gross. Your skin is tingling, but yet it somehow feels numb. Kat keeps slapping your face around, and you’re choking on his cock, and this all feels too weird to actually be happening.

You can’t stop thinking about your ice cream. Had you dropped the groceries when Kat grabbed you? Hopefully the ice cream hadn’t opened up.

It feels like they take forever, but at the same time, you don’t think any time has really passed. You were outside carrying groceries just a few seconds ago.

Then Kat is pulling out of your mouth, shoving you fully onto your back so he can jack off onto your tits. You don’t feel his cum splatter across your chest, but you feel the wetness as he rubs it into your skin, chuckling darkly.

Ei is still going, and it hurts. He’s big - if you weren’t loose from the orgasm pulled out of you by the vibe, you think he probably would’ve torn you open.

He pulls out, and then there’s warmth striping over your stomach, and Kat’s rubbing that in too.

Both men are a little breathless, and so are you, but you think you actually might be hyperventilating.

“Where’s the wipes?”

A package thumps next to your head, and Kat grabs it, muttering our a “thanks” to his partner-in-crime.

Cool, wet baby wipes swipe over your skin, cleaning up the mess. Your arms are still tied behind your back.

“Kat, where’re the clothes?”

“Underneath the passenger seat, where I always put the damn clothes.”

There’s shuffling, and then the sound of a ziplock bag being undone.

A baby wipe swipes over your pussy, scrubbing. You’re sensitive, and when two fingers enter you, stuffing a wipe against your walls, you whimper.

“Stop being so rough, you aren’t an animal.”

“Shut the hell up, I’m the one making sure we don’t get fuckin’ caught.”

The fingers pull out of your entrance though, taking the wipe with them.

You’re being sat up, a shirt roughly yanked over your head. It’s soft, smells like detergent. Ei’s lifting your legs, tugging sweatpants onto your body. They’re too big, but they’re comfy.

You realize you still have your shoes on.

“All done, let’s get her out.”

“Wait-“ Kat says, and thenyour jaw is being wrenched open, and a hand is shoving a baby wipe into your mouth. You retch, pushing at Kat’s wrist, but the man is stronger than you, holds you still while he rubs at your mouth.

“Kat, she’s gonna throw up.”

“Nah, she’s fine. Besides, even if she does, all the better right? No swab’ll be able to find anything after she blows chunks.”

Ei sighs.

Finally, the hand pulls away, and you cough, doubling over as you splutter. The taste lingers, and you want to throw up.

“All done. Let’s go.”

A hand pats your cheek “Bye bitch, it was fun.” Kat laughs, before climbing towards the front of the van.

Ei pushes you towards the back doors, opens them, helps you get your feet under you.

He doesn’t say anything as he pushes you towards your forgotten grocery bags, your dropped phone.

His hands leave your back, and you hear him shut the van doors, hear him walk around to the drivers side.

The van starts, and then it’s driving away, and you’re all by yourself.

All you can think about is the ice cream.

It’s probably melted by now

#yikes #don’t read this #dead dove #dark bakugou #dark kirishima #they use their first names #well #nicknames #this sucks #dead dove do not eat

372 notes · View notes

sunflowerstache · 4 years

Text

Lifespan

A/N: Hello! This is very different from most of my writing, not only because its an OC, but because the storyline is just something out of my comfort zone. But I really hope you enjoy it(: I got the inspiration from a ad I saw on Facebook a long time ago lmao but yeah, come say hi once you’ve read it and tell me what you think! It’s much appreciated! I love you all so very much! Also hugeeeee shoutout to @devil-in-bw-the-sheets for spending like six months reading and re-reading this every single time I rewrote it and changed things and encouraging me each time! And @emotionally-imbruised for beta reading it for me!💛💛

Word Count: 7.3k

“Doll?”

The fog that seemed to have settled over your mind instantly melted away upon hearing the barista’s voice, her sweet drawl grounding your focus back on her. She was an older woman, probably nearing her sixties based on the collection of grey hairs scattered throughout her small ponytail. But still so incredibly full of life. She had red glasses perched atop her nose - which perfectly completed the red polka dots covering her black dress - a beaded chain dangling from the end to the front of the frame, a pair of silver peace sign studs resided in her ears, and the anatomically correct symbol for caffeine dangled in necklace form on her chest.

“What? I’m sorry.”

“Just asked if you wanted the cream on that.” She smiled, thin lines spreading out and away from the sides of her eyes as her mouth widened. Upon glancing down quickly, you took notice of her clearly hand drawn name tag filled with swirling letters - different then when you stopped by earlier in the week when she had used stickers to spell out “Rita”.

“Oh, um yeah sure. Why not.”

“My husband always says that during weather like this, the calories don’t count. That they disappear with your shivering. Can I just have your name, dear?”

“Georgie. And your husband sounds like a very smart man.”

“Oh, he is.” A dreamy look took over Rita’s features, like just thinking about the man made her heart race. “Been together for forty-two years and he still teaches me new things.”

Your heart ached with each word; the fog slowly started to creep back through your mind while you watched her grin fondly. The hope and excitement for the future that was always so very clear in people’s eyes was what made it so hard not to explain everything you knew, every secret you held. However, as much as you wanted to urge everyone to live the life they’ve always wanted, you knew there was a natural balance to life, and opening your mouth would undoubtedly throw that balance off. So instead, you grinned and nodded your head.

“He sounds wonderful.”

“My best friend. Counting down the minutes until the end of my shift. We’re heading up to see our grandbabies for the week.” It was like she knew exactly what kind of secret you were keeping and made sure to hit you where it hurt each time she opened her mouth. As if her being impossibly sweet didn’t hurt enough.

“That sounds nice.” Digging around in your bag for your wallet made it much easier not to focus on the ticking time bomb in front of you. “How much do I owe you?”

“Oh my! I’m sorry, I know I can’t talk forever if no one stops me.” her laugh was soft, inviting, one you would love to listen to while storytelling. “It’s four pounds.”

“You can keep the change.” You said when handing her some cash, but stopped yourself before you turned to walk away. Even if you weren’t ever going to outright explain anything to anyone, slipping in tiny, reassuring comments made you feel at least a little better before parting ways. “Have an amazing night with your family Rita.”

The coffee shop was relatively empty at the hours you stopped by. Other than the same group of men that were there every morning, chatting over the newspaper and a black coffee and a young nurse who was just getting off of her night shift, only customers on their way to work stopped by. But that was just how you preferred it. It was much easier to avoid running into people when the sun had barely just peeked over the morning horizon. You suppose the city isn’t exactly the best place to reside when you’re on a mission not to get close to anyone, but you’d much preferred the hustle and bustle of the city than the silence of the countryside. At least here you were able to escape your thoughts when they got to be too much, out there you were left to drown in the weights you held.

Rita was right when she said the weather would bring shivering. The moment you stepped through the café doors, all sense of warmth you previously had was sucked out of you, leaving the tips of your fingers tingling against the warm cup. You hadn’t ever really gotten to know the woman behind the counter, a few kind greetings every now and again, but she seemed to be someone who brought a lot of joy to those around her. And she always put extra chocolate curls on your drink. You made a mental note to send some flowers to her family within the coming days.

It was a car horn that initially took your attention off of the pavement, turning to look for who was in such a rush at 5:30am, but the hard torso smacking into her shoulder is what brought your attention back. Followed by the searing heat of your hot chocolate spilling down your front.

“Oh fuck!” you yelled, immediately dropping the paper cup and trying to pull your shirt away from your body to decrease the chance of a burn. There goes your chance to get home and drive right to work without any issue.

“Oh my god! Oh shit!” the man that had ran into you gasped, stopping in his tracks and grabbing onto your elbow to steady your wild movements.

Even though his words were quite loud on the empty street, his voice was still husky, almost like he wasn’t awake yet and still had some left over sleep in his throat. And when you turned to look at who had ruined your shirt, your own voice got stuck in your throat. He was tall, which made sense considering your head had bounced right off of his chest. He was wearing black basketball shorts with tall white socks and a light grey hoodie, which was pulled up to cover the dark grey beanie resting on his head. With one hand he was holding a water bottle with ease, while the other was frantically pulling the airpod from his ear. But apart from his sheer stature, you couldn’t ignore how beautiful this man was. How even the worry lines littering his face were perfectly accenting his features. Or how the green of his eyes seemed to sparkle in the dim light of the Whole Foods you had been stopped in front of.

“I’m so sorry! Shit are you okay?” he quickly asked, shaking his head before you could even respond. “Obviously not, that was probably hot. Oh god I’m so sorry!”

Finally getting your bearings back, you couldn’t help but nod. “Yeah it was pretty hot.”

“Shit, I don’t even know how that happened. I must’ve taken my eyes off the pavement for one second. I’m so sorry.”

“So you’ve said.” You chuckled, bending down to pick up your now empty cup at your feet and tossing it in the bin by your side. “Don’t worry about it. Really it’s fine.”

“It’s not, I’ve ruined your shirt.” If the disappointment in his voice wasn’t evident enough, the small pout on his lips definitely was. He looked absolutely distraught at the sight of what he’d done. “Let me at least get you a new drink. It’s the least I could do.”

“Oh, um, that’s alright.” You’d always known it was rude to speak to someone and not give them eye contact, it was something your father had drilled into you as a child, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Looking someone in the eyes meant seeing above their head, and that was an area you actively tried to avoid looking. But there was something about him that drew you in, and you couldn’t help glancing up at him quickly again. “I actually have to be getting to work. Thanks though.”

“Are you sure? I feel terrible.”

“Positive. Have a good morning.” Your touch was soft on his arm as you made your way past him, leaving the mystery man standing on the pavement staring as you walked towards your flat.

You didn’t mean to be so short with him, but it’s just how you’d grown accustomed to living life. It was the easiest way you found not to get close to many people, which meant less hurt in the end. And you’d been around enough hurt in your short twenty three years. It may be a lonely life, but you were happy with your cat, comically named Lucifer, and living a simple life. Sure, there were times you wished you could live the carefree life everyone around you got to experience, your only issues being stresses of work or relationship drama, but that wasn’t who you were. After living the life you did, there’d be no way you could live a normal life.

“Don’t give me that look, Luci.” you grumbled when walking through your front door, your cat perched on the dining table just watching as you moved through the living room, ripping your destroyed shirt from your body. “This wasn’t my fault.”

You’re sure that you looked like a crazy person if anyone was watching on, talking to your cat while walking around your flat in nothing but a pair of black slacks and a bra. But you didn’t care, because this was your normal. You ranted to her after a long day at work or a particularly draining day, and she always sat and listened. Mostly because she was a cat.

“He just ran right into me, like he literally couldn’t see me. How odd, right?” you stopped briefly while searching your closet for a new shirt. “God Luci, he was cute though. So cute. And tall.”

Just because you secluded yourself in the world didn’t mean you didn’t enjoy taking a peak at what it had to offer. It was the forming relationships that put you off, not because there was a level of uncertainty - nothing was uncertain to you - but because you always knew the timeline of said relationships. It was always the same. So why put yourself through it? But also, why not? What if that was just what you needed to make such a painful existence a little more bearable?

“I didn’t even get his name. Maybe I’ll see him around the cafe sometime.” you hummed, throwing the new peach colored blouse over your head and peeking your face out of the hole. “No. No Georgie, don’t go there. Who are we kidding, it’s not like anything could ever happen anyway.”

Lucifer meows loudly at your comment., making you turn around to glare at her. Obviously she didn’t know what was actually going on, but it was nice to entertain the idea of someone listening to your problems and helping you talk them out. You were a secluded young woman, not crazy.

“What? Like I’m wrong? It’s not something I’d be able to keep from a boyfriend forever. And It’s not like I’d be able to just flat out tell them.”

She meowed again, jumping off the table and prancing her way to your feet, rubbing her side against your ankles.

“What would I even say? Hey, I was born with this thing where I can see a floating clock above everyone’s head that literally counts down to the day you die? Yeah because that won’t get me sent to the looney bin.”

From the start of time, there has always been a beginning and an end to everything. No matter if it was an Oscar award winning film, delicate relationships, or even life itself, it all ended. People come, and they go, but the world continues on; taking care of those who stay to see another day. And on a daily basis, the idea of the end rarely floats through anyone’s mind. Except for you.

For you, it was impossible not to think about when it was quite literally staring you in the face. For as long as you could remember, you walked through life with a different outlook on the end than most other people.It wasn’t because you had some near death experience, but due to a gift. Or at least what some people in the world would consider a gift, because in no way would you call being able to see the exact day someone is going to die, a gift.

It was something that over the years you had grown to ignore, trying not to look too far away from people’s eyes and never thinking too hard about the ticking numbers.They weren’t obnoxious or flashy signs hanging above everyone’s heads - like you had seen some films try and depict - but instead, just a simple, faint, white clock just above the tops of everyone’s head, showing each individual’s lifespan. No matter how many hours you sat down and tried to rationalize why you were able to see this, there was never any answer. No one else in your family carried the burden, and because of that, you never mentioned it to anyone in fear of sounding crazy. But you knew you weren’t crazy, not when you prayed night after night for those numbers to disappear or for someone’s clock to be wrong, only to be let down.

You knew you weren’t crazy when you finally saw your favorite florist Don after he spent some time away, and his clock suddenly read 3 years, 20 days, 6 hours, 42 minutes, and 6 seconds instead of the 27 years you had grown used to seeing on him every day before he left. It didn’t take long for you to find out he was diagnosed with stage 4 lung cancer and treatments had stopped working.

You knew you weren’t crazy when you got to watch Kim’s clock - the very sweet receptionist at your job - begin to slow down the more she adjusted to a healthy lifestyle of eating right and taking care of her body. What was once a ticking time of a measly 21 years adjusted what would be a long and fulfilled 59 years more.

And you knew you weren’t crazy when at only seventeen years old, you watched as your best friend’s clock suddenly dwindled down to zero’s across the board like a slot machine while laying on the bathroom floor of a house party. The drugs in her system being too much for her young body to handle and completely consuming the 72 years she once had left.

You weren’t crazy, you just carried a burden no one should ever have. And because of it, you made sure not to get close to anyone in fear of watching yet another clock strike zero.

So you moved on with your life, forgetting all about the tall man who had spilled your drink and run into your mind, making you think things you hadn’t in so long, and instead, focused solely on getting through your days at work and getting back home. It was an easy routine, one you hadn’t strayed from much since moving to the city six years ago; wake up, feed Luci, get coffee, go to work, go home, shower, watch tv, go to bed. And as happy as you were that life wasn’t so painful these days, boring would be the only word good enough to describe your life.

Until your neighbors moved in.

You were standing in the kitchen, lifting the collar up to your mouth to try and quickly lick the hot sauce off the old, ratty Elton John Tour shirt you were wearing before it left a stain, wearing nothing else but some shorts, a nice pair of cheetah print slippers to cover your chilly toes, and one of the two hundred paper face masks you’d ordered off of Amazon in an attempt to clear your skin, when the loud bang on your front door startled you. Not only did your family not live in town, but your neighbors knew that you weren’t a people person. Ever since you made that very clear to them upon moving in, they hadn’t tried to contact you, so you just assumed whoever it was had gotten the wrong flat number.

But the knocking persisted.

Lucifer’s head had picked up from her lap upon hearing the first knock, now watching as you made our way closer to the front door. “What do I do?” but the only response you received was her head tilting to the right, like she was saying ‘Really? Answer it you idiot.’

You wanted to be angry, you really did, because you were nearly ready to be completely settled in for the night after a terribly long day and you just wanted to watch some bad tv with Luci, but the moment you twisted the door knob and peered into the hallway, any anger you had felt, completely washed away.

“Hey! Sorry, my mates and I-” he abruptly stopped mid sentence once his eyes landed on you, like his train of thought literally face planted into a brick wall. A look of realization flashed across his face quickly, and in a matter of milliseconds, what was once stress turned into a look of excitement. “Hey! It’s you!” he smiled.

“It’s me.” something about him made it very difficult for you not to mirror his smile, but that desire was overpowered by the confusion coursing through your mind.

“I didn’t think I’d ever see you again! I still feel terrible about what happened, are you sure you were alright? You didn’t burn yourself, did you?” The man was incredible at changing his emotions at the drop of a dime, for now his eyes were laced with concern where excitement had just lived. “Or I guess I should say I didn’t burn you, did I?”

He was much more put together this time, the workout attire you had last seen him in was traded in for a pair of light red slacks that looked to be a crushed velvet material paired with a plain white t-shirt and a pair of black vans. He looked like any university boy you’d see walking the streets, but at the same time, like nothing you had ever seen before. Something about him standing in your doorway brought you a sense of calm, like just his presence was enough to wash away the stresses of your day.

“I mean I can’t say that it felt particularly good, but I didn’t get burned, no.”

“Oh good. That’s good.” he nodded, and you made the mistake of following his hand with your eyes as he lifted it up to his curls to fix the glasses perched on his head. You didn’t want to know, didn’t want to see what kind of fate the universe had in store for him because the peace he had brought to you in the few moments he’d been standing there felt better than anything had in the past few years. But you were never that lucky.

Your eyes quickly casted back down, looking back at the white of his shirt while you cleared your throat. “Did you need something….” you dragged out the end of the word to indicate that you didn’t know what to call him since he hadn’t bothered to mention his name.

“Oh, right. ‘M Harry.”

“Georgie.

“Hello Georgie.” if possible, the grin on his face doubled in size, causing two dimples to appear at the corners and the air in your chest to feel as though it was tightening.

The two of you stood in your doorway without saying anything for another moment before you spoke up; “So did you need something or…”

“Fuck, yeah.” his voice was breathy when he responded, standing up straighter, “My mates and I just saw you come home and we’re in desperate need of a needle and thread. You’ve got one?”

It only took a second for him to realize his words and that surprised look from when you first opened the door was back. His eyes widened and his hands raised in front of him as a way to stop you before you could respond.

“Not in a creepy way! We weren’t like watching you or summat, swear! My mates Niall and Louis just moved in across the hall.” using his thumb he pointed to the open door across the hall where you could see two other guys watching yours and Harry’s interaction. Upon realizing they were spotted, they raised their hands in a small wave. “We heard you come in. Not that we were actively listening! Just - ‘m sorry. I swear we aren’t creeps.”

“Good. Thought I’d have to sic my monster of a dog on you.” you replied, turning to dig through the small table in what could barely be considered an entryway. The table had started out as a place to keep your keys and mail, but like most did, quickly turned into a junk drawer. An abyss to put any and everything only to never see it again.

Harry’s eyes frantically looked behind you like some crazy monster was about to lunge at him for bothering you at night, even going as far as taking a small step back when the door opened a bit wider while you were looking for the tool. You laughed when glancing up quickly at the movement. It was obvious he was panicking at the new information of potentially getting mauled by a massive dog while simply asking for thread. So you put him out of his misery.

“There’s no dog. I’m just joking…”

As if on cue, Lucifer waltzed up to see what was going on at the front door, her small body weaving between your legs to get a nice scratch while checking out the never before seen man. “Oh! A cat! I love cats!”

“Yeah she’s pretty great.” you nodded, closing the drawer and holding your hand out to Harry. “Here you go. Um, not sure what colour you need so you can just take the whole bag.”

“You’re a lifesaver, thank you! Niall has a date in ten minutes and he’s split his only good pair of trousers.” he turned his head to look over his shoulder at the boys inside the other flat, trying to seem like they weren’t listening to the conversation, but very obviously doing just that. “Have to sew him in like ‘m some sort of tailor.” he chuckled, turning back to face you.

“Sounds like an exciting night.”

“Oh riveting. I would ask if you’d like to join but you look very busy-” the corners of his lips were trying hard not to curl upwards with the light sarcasm, wobbling a bit as he continued speaking, “-so I wouldn’t want to interrupt anymore than I already have. I’m sure I’ll see you again, I practically live with these two idiots.”

“‘M sure I will.” Luci hadn’t left your side since joining you at the door, instead, she began meowing quite loudly, so you bent down to scoop her into your arms.

You liked Harry, not only because he was a very obviously a good looking man, but because he seemed to pick up on your social cues fairly quickly. He didn’t linger and try to get as much out of you as possible or make the fact that you clearly didn’t have much interest in talking uncomfortable. And it was the first time in a long time that you felt content being around someone. Not fearing what the future brought.

Harry halted his movements halfway between flats and spun back around quickly. He didn’t say anything at first, just watched you press kisses to Lucifer’s head while standing in the doorway. Something you gathered from the very brief times you’d shared an encounter was that Harry was not very good at hiding his emotions. It was almost like he had no control of his mouth, because you could see him try to stop the smile from spreading, but it was no use. The dimples popped out in full force.

“I still owe you for that coffee.”

“Oh, um not a coffee.” you tried not to be loud enough for him to hear, noting that the fact that it wasn’t a coffee was not really that important, but he heard you anyway.

“Pardon?”

“Just um, it wasn’t a coffee. More of a hot chocolate drinker actually.”

He didn’t respond right away, instead just continued watching you with fond eyes and a now very prominent smile. You felt as though he could sense how out of touch with relationships you had begun to get over the years. What other explanation could he have for being so soft with someone he had just met and barely even known

“Right, well keep your schedule open so I can take you out for that replacement cocoa.”

Your door swiftly closed the second he turned back around, not leaving any extra seconds for him to turn around and look at you again. And the second she heard the click of the lock, Luci leaped out of your arms and made her way over to the sofa, meowing her entire journey.

“Yes that was him.” another meow. “I told you he was cute, and I also told you nothing would be happening there.”

Harry wasn’t lying when he said you’d be seeing him again. It seemed as though every day when you got back to your flat, he was there. Sometimes on his way out, other times just standing outside the door waiting for the other boys. And despite how at peace being around Harry had made you feel that day he came knocking at your door, you never put in much more effort than a “hello” here and there. He and the others had tried quite a few times to get you to join them on their night out, but each time you came up with a different excuse. Even if they were comforting, what was the point in forming that friendship when you knew you’d just isolate yourself again eventually. You had made it this long without getting too close to anyone else, and you weren’t going to start just because two attractive lads moved in across the hall who happened to have a very fit, very inviting, friend.

It wasn’t until nearly a month later that you actually had a full conversation with Harry again.

Typically you tried not to go to the coffee shop by your flat any later than lunchtime because it just got too busy. There were too many people for you to fully avoid them all and seeing too many clocks dampened your mood significantly. But you had already had a shitty morning and needed something to give you a boost.

The place had felt very melancholy since Rita’s unfortunate passing last month, she’d passed peacefully in her sleep while spending time with her family. You’d sent the family flowers as remembered, and also made sure to drop a few bills in the jar on the counter each time you’d been in the shop. Other employees were setting up a fund for Rita’s family since she was such a loved member of the community just with the joy she brought from behind the counter.

“Just a large hot chocolate for me, please.”

“For here or take away?”

“Take away please.”

“Actually she’ll have that for here, please.” a familiar voice behind you spoke up as you were digging through your bag for your wallet. You could see him out of the corner of your eye move from his spot behind you, to gradually standing next to you, looking directly at the barista behind the counter.

“Um..” you felt bad for the young kid, he couldn’t be any older than eighteen and all he wanted to do was get to work and get out. But here you were making his day more stressful than it needed to be. “So… for here then?”

“Harry I -”

“Come on Georgie. Please.” never in your life had you seen a grown man bat his eyelashes, but here he was, trying to lure you in with his breathtaking green eyes.

“Fine.” your voice came out soft and you rolled your eyes, but on the inside you felt giddy, like what you remember life to feel like before you started isolating yourself. “Um, sorry. I’ll have it for here I suppose.”

“Do you want the cream?”

“Sure. Thank you.”

“Anything else?”

“Yes, I’ll have a -” Harry’s profile was something you could get lost in. How the tip of his nose seemed to bounce with every word he said, how it looked as if his lips were made to form the words falling from between them, or how no matter how many times he tried to get it to stay back, one of his curls would continue to break loose from the rest and fall past his forehead. From what little you’ve seen of it, Harry had a great sense of fashion. Comfortable. A brown teddy bear jumper was covering his upper body, sleeves long enough to gather just past his hands and torso short enough that you could see his white shirt peeking out from underneath, ripped black jeans, a pair of black chelsea boots, and those same tortoise shell glasses perched on his nose completed his look.

“Ready?”

“Huh?”

“You ready? ‘ve got a table back by the door.”

The two of you made your move to walk back towards the front of the shop, but you halted in your tracks when you saw that yes, he in fact did have a table waiting for him, but it was also being inhabited by the two boys you had seen behind him when he came to ask for thread. Neal and Liam? And a girl was sitting between the two as they chatted amongst themselves.

“Harry I don’t -”

“Come on, I promise we don’t bite.” Apparently you still didn’t look convinced because he leaned down to be at your eye level and stuck his lip out in a pout. “One drink. Please? I owe you remember?”

“Yes and you’ve already bought me a new one, thank you by the way, so you don’t owe me anything else.”

“I know.” the apples of his cheeks began getting pinker the longer he stared at you, “But I’d very much like to spend some time with you.”

Just like he did when he knocked on your door, his eyes widened and immediately seemed to want to backtrack what he had said. “Wait no, not in that way. In like a ‘hey I think you’re cute -’ no fuck that’s not -”

“Harry.”

“Yes?”

“One drink.”

The relief was instant on his features, his shoulders sagging and eyebrows un-furrowing at your words. “Good. Afraid my mates were going to start thinking I made you up.”

“I live across the hall, they’ve seen me.”

“Well yeah, but I talk about you so much they thi- I - fuck.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that fell from between your lips. You may not have had many friendships or relationships of any kind, but you did know excessive rattling wasn't generally how people spoke to one another. “You babble a lot.”

“Only when ‘m nervous.”

“Why are you nervous?”

Harry wasted no time in his response, taking a quick glance over to you. “Because I finally get to spend time with the pretty girl across the hall.”

The heat rushing to your cheeks had become something of a common occurrence when speaking with Harry. It wasn’t obvious if he knew what he was doing or not, but you couldn’t imagine someone like Harry not knowing how to flirt. Thankfully, however, someone from the table spoke up before you could dwell on his comment longer than necessary.

“Finally!” the man sitting at the end of the booth spoke. He was dressed very similar to Harry in color - a tan quilted shirt was hidden beneath a cream colored teddy bear jacket, and pleated brown trousers. The light facial hair stubbled along his cheeks made him look slightly older than Harry, but his complete baby face counteracted that.

Harry looked at you briefly, raising his eyebrows with a ‘what did I tell you?’ kind of look as he bent down to slide into the booth next to the other man. His style was much different than the other two, more streetwear. He was wearing black trackies and an old gray band tee under a denim jacket, baseball hat and the very apparent smell of cigarettes finishing off the outfit. Another difference with him was that he had a girl with him. What you assumed to be his girlfriend by the way her head was resting on his shoulder and his hand fell on her knee. She was beautiful, long brown hair fell loose around her shoulders, only kept back by the fragile looking sunnies that rested at the top of her head. She was wearing a simple white top and a pair of white,black, and brown plaid trousers, both of which were overshadowed by the beautiful black Balenciaga jacket hanging off of her shoulders.

“Was starting to think you’d been lying about actually knowing her, Haz.” the one closest to Harry spoke, earning a light slap to his chest from the girl on his shoulder.

Harry disregarded all of their antics and turned to pat the seat next to him, indicating he wanted you to sit down, and he gave you a reassuring nod when you nibbled your lower lip between your teeth.

It was subtle acts like Harry letting you sit on the outside of the booth so you could make a quick getaway if needed that reminded you how easily he seemed to pick up on your social cues - even if you didn’t realize you did them. It made your chest tickle that even just from the two substantial conversations you’d had with him, Harry picked up on things you did.

“Piss off.” Harry chuckled, reminding you a lot of friendships you’d seen on tv where they all take the piss but it was easy to see that they all cared for one another. It was something you’d always been envious of while watching the world from the sidelines. “Georgie, this is Niall, Louis, and Louis’ girlfriend Eleanor. Everyone, this is Georgie.”

You were met with a chorus of hellos and you would’ve loved to just jump right into their conversation about the best places to get guacamole, just so that they knew you weren’t intentionally being rude to them. But not only were you not good at this conversation thing, but you also were still on edge about forming any sort of connection with these people. Apparently you should get used to Harry and his all knowing mind, because before you could excuse yourself from the awkwardness, he spoke up.

“So, how long have you lived in the building?”

Unprepared for the question, you froze for a second. “Oh, um going on six years now.”

“Impossible! What are you, like twenty? No way you’ve lived there that long!” Eleanor asked, her head no longer on Louis’ shoulder, instead she was sitting upright and looking directly at you. Of course, over the span of the years, you had gotten quite good at looking at people without really paying any attention to what was only visible to you above their heads, but it still made you uneasy. The best solution was just not to look at them at all. But these people, people who had no idea who you were a mere ten minutes ago yet were now welcoming you into their lives, made you want to work on avoiding the numbers. Because this was the most alive you’d felt in years.

“‘M twenty three. Be twenty four next Friday.”

“No shit! Alright well I’m coming over so you can teach me your skincare routine because you look flawless.” she gleamed, leaning forward on the table to jot down her phone number on one of the many spare napkins littering the tabletop.

“As much as I love a good skincare routine, let’s not skip over the more important part of that sentence. Your birthday is next week?” Harry asked, gently shoving his shoulder against yours and offering a kind smile when you glanced up at him.

“Oh, it’s not a big deal. I haven’t really celebrated my birthday since I turned like eleven.” your parents used to throw you a party every year while growing up, a lavish over the top kind of party where all of your classmates were invited and family you had never even heard of pinched your cheeks. But as time went on and you didn’t give up your ‘ridiculous fantasy’ as your mother so kindly put it, they began to stop throwing the party. Now, you were lucky if they sent you a card on the day. Plus, celebrating your birthday alone is kind of a downer.

“You haven’t celebrated your birthday in over a decade?” Niall’s mouth hung open like that was the craziest thing he’d ever heard.

“Nope.”

“Well that just won’t do.” you may not know very much about the people seated around you, but the smirk on Louis’ face told you everything you needed to know. “We’re having a party.”

“Um, thank you. Really. But parties aren’t really my thing. Plus I’m working that day so…”

“Oh, where do you work?” Harry asked, thoroughly interested in where you spend most of your days.

“Good Samaritan.”

“The nursing home down on Adams?”

“That’s the one. I’m a caregiver.” when you first applied for the position, you thought you were crazy. For someone who doesn’t want to get close to anyone in fear of their untimely demise, you definitely went for a job exactly the opposite. But that was the appeal to you. Sure, it was terribly sad to see one of your patients pass, but in the time leading up to it, you knew exactly who needed a little extra love. It was nice to be able to remind their loved ones to visit while making routine phone calls, and to do things to make them smile in what only you knew were their last days. It was the only time you thought what you were born with was some kind of gift. The tiniest most unwelcomed gift.

“That’s wonderful.” Harry’s voice was gently next to you, like he was hanging on to every short word that you said.

“Well, we’ll just have a party once you’re done with work.” Louis shrugged, but held his hands up when you opened your mouth to remind him you didn’t want anything. “Not a party, a friendly get together with friendly neighbors and alcohol.”

That day in the cafe was the beginning to a new start for you.

Obviously Lucifer had to hear about everything that happened that afternoon, but she was there to experience it first hand when Eleanor came knocking on your door the following day. She got to watch as you bent over in genuine laughter at your shared banter. She watched from the kitchen counter as Harry came by with food one night, saying he just happened to order extra lo mein and heard you come home. And as the two of you sat in the living room watching Big Brother, talking about everything from your favorite color to why he majored in physical therapy in university. Luci got to watch you break out of the shell you’d worked so hard on forming around you, and even though you knew she couldn’t understand what was happening, you liked to think her frequent meows were those of encouragement.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” The yells came from all corners of the room when you walked into Louis’s flat the following Friday, making your eyes widen and shoulders straighten. As much progress as you’d been making in your life, with branching out and slowly losing your fear of connection, it would take more than a week to crack down those barriers you’d built so high for so long.

“Thank you.” you laughed, putting down the bottle of wine you’d brought just in time for everyone to start surrounding you in hugs.

“Happy Birthday, love.” Harry’s voice was soothing in your ear, like a sense of relief in the overstimulation the other three had given you. You didn’t regret their company like you would have only a month ago, instead you welcomed the foriegn feelings. But it was still nice to have a moment of calm to fully process everything.

“Thank you Harry.”

“I hope it’s not too much. I told them to cool it on the balloons and confetti - especially since we all know I’ll be the one to pick it up in the morning.” he laughed, offering you a glass of wine that everyone else seemed to already be enjoying.

“No, no, it’s great. A nice segway from doing nothing every year.”

“Still can’t believe you haven’t celebrated your birthday in so long! That’s a day that should be celebrated by everyone!”that same look you’d grown to quite enjoy flashed over his features, his momentary distress as he realized he said something he wasn’t planning on sharing. But the look disappeared when he saw your knowing smile. “Don’t start.”

As promised, there was no party, per say. Everyone was just scattered around Louis’ living room telling stories about absolutely nothing that had everyone in stitches. It was the kind of party you’d always been envious of, one where mates could hang out and lose themselves in the company of each other. It was the first time you didn’t have a single thought about impending doom for more than an hour, a feit you would be sure not to forget.

Niall was laid out on the floor under the windows, a half empty bottle of rum in his hand and the other rested on his stomach, occasionally itching an invisible nuisance. Louis was seated in the arm chair directly across from Niall, a very buzzed Eleanor draped across his lap and the more the night went on, the less chances you had of seeing their faces separated. And Harry was seated next to you on the sofa, his arm hung on the back of the cushion in such a way that everyone so often you would feel the very tips of his fingers skim the exposed skin on your shoulder.

You wished you could freeze this moment in time, because a photograph or video would never do it justice. It was almost as if you were watching the night play out in front of you like a movie, not really in your body but watching from afar. Watching as the girl who hid herself from the world began to hatch, slowly cracking the hard exterior surrounding her. And you would do anything to bottle the feeling of pride that swelled in your chest knowing you had achieved that.

“Literally right in the face mate. No joke.” Niall cackled, his laugh a contrast in that moment; escaping his mouth loudly but carrying throughout the room softly. Taking off like a leaf blowing through the fall breeze.

“Georgie.” your name slipped from between Harry’s lips beautifully, like he was created for the sole purpose of saying your name over and over again; forever. “Alright?”

And sitting in the living room of Louis’ flat, listening to your friends’ wine induced giggles, looking at the most captivating pair of green eyes and curly hair that only whatever magical being that was above could’ve created, you were alright. You were so alright that the minuscule ticks of the clocks of your new and only friends, ticks you tried so hard to avoid paying attention to, almost seemed to disappear completely. Almost.

71 years, 2 months, 10 days, 3 hours, 16 minutes, 55 seconds. 68 years, 11 months, 3 days, 19 hours, 43 minutes, 2 seconds. 68 years, 7 months, 21 days, 1 hour, 58 minutes, 33 seconds. 62 years, 8 months, 9 days, 11 hours, 12 minutes, 2 seconds. 2 years, 1 month, 30 days, 23 hours, 34 minutes, 56 seconds.

#harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles x reader #harry styles x oc #harry styles x you

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plaidbooks · 3 years

Note

Well I'm going to be greedy and ask for more then one, but any one will do! I would love to find Nick, Rafi, Sonny or Bryan under my mistletoe 🥰

4 Scenes

A/N: Sorry I’m posting late! It’s still Christmas here, so I’m on time, dammit! Anyways, why limit myself to one of these handsome men, when we can do mini-fics of all four?? Shoutout to @thatesqcrush, who beta’d the Bryan section for me, since I have never written him, nor seen The Good Fight (I only know him from gifsets and fics whoops). Enjoy!

These are 4 separate stories, not reader cheating on 4 guys. The stories are also in order of the ask: Nick, Rafi, Sonny, Bryan, if you wanna skip someone!

Tags: allusions to smut, otherwise just some fluff

Words: 1128

Taglist: @the-baby-bookworm @beccabarba @thatesqcrush @itsjustmyfantasyroom @stardust-fray @permanentlydizzy @infiniteoddball @ben-c-group-therapy @glowingmess @whimsicallymad @reading--mermaid @averyhotchner @mrsrafaelbarba @detective-giggles @dianilaws

Nick Amaro

You were flying over the floor after a perp, Nick hot on your heels, tearing through a mall full of people trying to do last minute shopping before Christmas. “Move!” you shouted at the people, who were either shoved out of the way, or happened to look at the commotion and shuffled quickly backwards as you chased your man. The man ducked into a Hallmark store, and you followed. Once in the store, Nick went left and you went right, cornering the perp in the back aisle. The man, realizing he was trapped, rushed you, trying to push by you. But you were ready for him, slamming your shoulder into his sternum, forcing the air from his lungs. While he was struggling for a breath, you quickly pulled his hands behind his back, cuffing him.

“Great job, babe,” Nick smiled at you, panting slightly. You grinned at him, catching your breath as you read the perp his rights, and leading him out of the store. Fin and Olivia met you at the store entrance, and you turned him over to your superiors, Nick coming to stand proudly next to you.

You glanced up at Nick, noticing a small bit of green behind him, hanging in the arch of the store entrance. You smiled at him, nodding towards it. “Mistletoe.”

Nick turned to look at the plant hanging innocently from the ceiling before locking eyes with you once more, a smirk on his face. He tugged you close, kissing you deeply, his tongue pushing into your mouth. You smiled against his lips, hand going to thread through his hair.

“Get a room you two,” Fin commented, rolling his eyes.

Nick pulled back, also grinning, and you murmured, “oh, we will.”

Nick gave you another quick kiss before saying, “see, this is why I married you.”

Rafael Barba

“Dinner was amazing, Mrs. Barba; thank you,” you said, picking up your plate. You and Rafael cleared the table, not allowing Lucia a chance to clean the dishes—she cooked, you were going to clean.

“Thank you for coming; I’m glad I was finally allowed to meet you,” she replied, giving Rafael a pointed look, making him shift uncomfortably. You stifled a giggle, drying the dishes as Rafael washed them. Once they were done, you both moved back towards her living room. It was getting late, and you were both ready to head home, to bed.

Rafael held your coat open for you, letting you put your arms into the sleeves before he placed it on your shoulders. Then he went to Lucia, hugging her and kissing her cheek, saying, “thank you for dinner, Mamí. I love you. I’ll call you Sunday, okay? After mass.”

“I love you, too, mijo,” Lucia grinned at him. Rafael came back to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, but Lucia stopped you both with a tsking noise, pointing up. “Rafi, you know the rules.”

You both followed her finger, seeing a little bustle of mistletoe hanging above you. Rafael’s ears turned pink as his eyes found yours. It’s not that you hadn’t kissed before, but it felt awkward with his mother watching. Nevertheless, Rafael leaned in, giving you a sweet, chaste kiss. You grinned against his lips, unable to help yourself—kissing Rafael always made you giddy.

Once outside in the cold, the snow falling gently around you, Rafael said, “thank you for tonight—Mamí would not let it go that she hadn’t met you yet.”

“It’s fine, Rafi; I love your mom. And I can see where your cooking skills come from,” you replied, making him chuckle. “Now can we please get out of the cold?”

“Mmm, don’t worry, cariño. I’ll take you home and warm you up,” Rafael promised, his voice low and his arm tightening around your shoulders.

Sonny Carisi

You giggled, uncaring that it was 2am, or that you were waiting for a pot of water to boil for Kraft mac n cheese. All that mattered was your goofball boyfriend, whose hands were clasping yours, as he danced with you in the kitchen. Sonny’s laughs matched yours as you both waltzed around the space, Frank Sinatra playing on your phone. Sonny pulled you close, dipping you, and you let out a peal of laughter.

“Don’t drop me!” you gasped, and he brought you back up.

“Never,” he promised, spinning you. As the song ended, and your giggles died out, you leaned against the doorframe of your kitchen, panting. Sonny came to lean against the other side of the frame, also out of breath. Your eyes connected, that lopsided smile on his face, a matching one on yours. Your lips crashed together, the kiss sloppy as you were both still giggling, hands trailing along each other’s bodies.

You pulled back, breathless, smiling at your boyfriend. “There’s a mistletoe above you,” you murmured.

“I know; I put it there for a reason,” Sonny replied, pulling you back in for another kiss, full of giggles and affection.

Bryan Kneef

Against his wishes, you put up some decorations in Bryan’s office; only a little, 2’ tree in the corner and some tinsel on the wall. You were in the process of hanging a mistletoe in his doorway when you heard his clipped footsteps coming down the hallway. Crap, you had wanted to be well away from his office before he found out about the decorations. Bryan appeared just as you were coming back down from standing on your tiptoes, mistletoe hanging innocently above you. His green eyes narrowed as he took in the decorations.

“What the hell did you do to my office?” he asked, voice dangerous.

You swallowed nervously. “I just thought I’d make it a little more festive in here.”

Bryan glanced at the mistletoe before his eyes locked with yours, his eyebrow raising. “Oh? Hoping for a kiss under the mistletoe, are we?”

You and Bryan had only recently started sleeping together, and you still had yet to figure out his moods, his…games. So, you cautiously answered, “y-yes?”

The wolfish smirk he gave you made the hairs rise on the back of your neck. “Fine, but you have to do something for me,” he growled. Giving you no time to respond, Bryan grabbed the back of your head, lips crashing to yours hard enough to bruise. You gasped and his tongue was in your mouth as he dominated the kiss. Just as quickly as it started, he pulled away, moving into his office, your eyes still closed in bliss, panting slightly.

Bryan moved to his desk, sitting in his chair. “Close and lock the door,” he ordered. “I want you in front of me, on your knees, before I count to three.” You raised your eyebrow at him—surely he wasn’t serious—and that predatory grin returned. “One…two…”

#nick amaro x reader #rafael barba x reader #sonny carisi x reader #bryan kneef x reader #law and order svu #law and order svu fanfic #the good fight #the good fight fanfic #fanfic #my writing #this is too many tags omgggg #I think Sonny's is my fave #itsjustmyfantasyroom

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scarlettwitcher · 4 years

Text

Let Me Love You Part One

Request: by Anon: Hi! I saw you're taking requests for the Witcher and we wondering if you could do a Geralt x female reader fic where the reader feel their feelings are one sided for Geralt. Perhaps she tries to ignore it but over time it hurts too much seeing him with other women and eventual feels unneeded and tries to part ways hoping some time away will help. Big shock it doesn't and Geralt tries to find her? I'm in need of that sweet dose of heavy angst with a happy ending I hope this isn't too specific!

Summary: Y/n is tired of hurting and makes a big decision. When Geralt goes after her and finds her, he’s faced with a bigger situation than he anticipated.

Characters: Geralt, Y/n, Jaskier, OMC!Matteus, mention of Yennefer

Word Count: 2,906

Warnings: angst, mentions of blood, tiny bit of Jaskier fluff, cursing

Author’s Note: So this is going to be a two parter since again my writing and ideas got away from me! I hope you guy’s like this! I am currently working on chapter 2 for You’re Mine Omega but I don’t have a definite date to when I’ll be posting it! Sorry guys! Shoutout to my beautiful girl @queenxxxsupreme for always being the best support and helping me out by betaing! Give her love! Tag lists and requests are open so if you’d like to be tagged or you have a request, shoot me an ask! As always, thanks for reading and feedback is always welcome/needed!

Never in your life did you think you'd be jealous of a prostitute but here you were. You watched as Geralt walked off towards the town's brothel and clutched the reins to your horse tighter. Jaskier noticed as you glared at the Witcher's back and put his hand on your shoulder, pulling you with him towards the tavern. Walking in, you found the farthest table against the corner, and sat there, sulking as you watched some patrons eye you and Jaskier silently. Jaskier came over with two mugs of ale, passing one to you. You gripped the mug tightly as you stared at the drink, as if it had murdered your kin. "How long are you going to keep subjecting yourself to this, Y/n?"

"As if this was my choice."

"It may not be but why torture yourself? I see how it affects you, darling, and it worries me."

"It's my own fault. I fell for him. I wrote my own fate really." Jaskier just shook his head as he strummed his lute absentmindedly. You never planned on telling the bard about your unrequited feelings for Geralt but he caught on pretty quickly after traveling for a few months with the both of you, that you really didn't have to tell him in the first place. He noticed your stares, your lingering touches, and he heard you. He listened to the way you tried to silently cry yourself to sleep when Geralt left to spend the night at a brothel or he slept with someone he saved. Jaskier grew worried about you.

The night you told him, you all had stopped at a small town to rest for the night. You stopped at the town's tavern and you had drunk way more than your weight in Ale. You stumbled back to the room you had booked, next to the boys, but really, you tumbled into Geralt's room. It was, of course, empty. You screamed and sobbed into the quiet room until Jaskier came running in, finding you a mess on the floor. He instantly took you in his arms as you cried in his chest and confessed everything, confessed your love for the Witcher. Jaskier listened silently as you poured your heart and soul to him about how much everything was hurting you. You couldn't even look at Geralt anymore because you'd burst into tears. You knew he cared about you, that much you knew, but he cared about you in a painful way, he cared about his friend. After that night, Jaskier never left your side, didn't even let you room alone. You were grateful for his constant attention and care, but it was just another reminder. There were moments where you swore Geralt was more grumpy and short with Jaskier, glaring at him here and there when he wouldn't leave your side, but you always marked it as wishful thinking and moved on.

You had been traveling with Geralt for almost two years. He had saved you from a monster and you took a huge interest in the profession. After following him through a few towns, he finally reluctantly agreed to train you and let you tag along. It quickly turned into a great friendship and within the year, the two of you became a very known duo, getting even more popular when Jaskier began to sing ballads of the two. Even though you weren't a Witcher, Geralt considered you one and you took it as the best compliment he could've ever said about you. You wore the title proudly. You could never pinpoint the moment you fell in love with him. It was just a build up of tiny moments. The way he always saved food for you, or how close he got when he was training you. The way he got your weapons custom made with the Witcher symbols engraved on all of them. The way he treated you when you were really injured. There was a moment where you could even swear he felt the same about you but it came crashing down when Yennefer came into the picture. You knew you couldn't compete with her. She was gorgeous. You knew you weren't ugly, the way men hit on you consistently told you so but Yennefer was another league completely. So you did what you always did, stepped back and watched as Geralt chewed your heart and spit it out time and time again.

"You could still tell him."

"You've gone mad bard. Compose your song, would you?" Jaskier only snorted as a faint smile painted his features but soon it was replaced with a scowl and a deep sigh left his chest.

"You deserve to be loved as much as you love him."

"You know what I think Jask?" The bard stopped playing with his lute as his eyes watched your sunken form. Ever since the night you confessed everything, you had been draining yourself. You looked sick, pale, dark bags under your eyes. You were more fidgety and even eating became a forgotten thought. Jaskier pushed you as much as he could but it was like you gave up. Jaskier couldn't count how many times he yelled at Geralt, told him off for not caring about you enough, berated and scolded him. "I'm tired."

"We can go get a room for the night and then we can tal-"

"No J. I'm tired. I don't think I ca- Geralt?" Jaskier looked to his side as Geralt sat at the table, next to him. He clenched his jaw as sweet perfume filled his senses. Jaskier glared at Geralt. He knew the scent belonged to the prostitute he slept with and was covered in it. His eyes snapped to you as you took a shaky breath, trying to breathe through your mouth, the scent almost like poison in your lungs.

"I thought you were busy for the night." You looked at Jaskier solemnly. It wasn't like him to snap at Geralt but it seems the two were at each other's throats all the time. Geralt only grunted in response as he took your untouched ale and drank a bit. You stayed quiet as your eyes fell to the table. The scent that was undeniably all over Geralt made you sick. Just another reminder that you could never be what he wanted. You stood up and left without a word, pulling your hood over your head. You walked out of the tavern, Jaskier hot on your heels. "Y/n?"

You didn't respond and he followed you to your horse as you rummaged through your bags, making sure you had everything. You noticed Roach in the next stall and sighed as you rubbed his nose softly. The horse huffed at you, almost like he could read your mind, knowing about what you were going to do. Roach nudged your shoulder hard, making you look at him. You willed the tears away and kissed his nose gently." Don't make this hard on me Roach." You spoke quietly, only wanting him to hear you. Once you gained your composure, wiping the tears away, you walked over to Geralt's satchels.

Searching through his things, you took a couple of herbs and one of your shirts that was yours. You looked at the things you had gifted him through the years and felt your eyes water once more. You pulled out the pin you had bought him at a shop when you first met him. You smiled to yourself, remembering how confused he was when you handed it to him. It was a pin with a wolf, a girl hugging the wolf protectively. You always joked and said it was the two of you, that you would be the one who'd protect him. You pushed the memory out of your head as you dropped the pin back into his satchel. You noticed a few other of your shirts, including your favorite one. Geralt had claimed it one night after a rough job and never gave it back, not that you'd take it from him anyways. You left the rest of your things that you really didn't need in Geralt's satchels. Jaskier watched you as you took some things, stuffing them into your satchels. He reached up and grabbed your wrist gently, making you stop. "Look at me, darling." You stared at the floor before you did as he asked, finally catching his worried eyes. They softened as he looked at you, wiping away the tears that had fallen on your cheeks. "Are you sure this is what you want to do?"

"You were right. Why am I doing this to myself? I deserve better and I won't find it following him to the ends of the world. I-" You sighed quietly as you hugged Jaskier tightly, burying your face into his chest. "I need some time." Jaskier finally let himself smile softly in relief as he pulled back to look at you.

"I will miss you. Who's going to tell me shitty jokes while we travel?"

You laughed into his chest, taking a deep breath. "Take care of him." You squeezed him before pulling away, and jumping onto your horse. You nodded towards Jaskier before riding off into the night, disappearing through the woods. Jaskier swallowed thickly as he left to his room for the night, knowing if he got close to Geralt, he would probably go off on him.

Geralt had stepped out of the tavern wondering why you and Jaskier were taking too long to come back in. He saw Jaskier's back as he walked towards the inn and figured that you had retired to your room and Jaskier was following. He felt his heart drop just a bit as he thought about Jaskier returning to your room with you. Geralt noticed it since the first day. He noticed how Jaskier never left your side, always was with you, hugging you, touching you affectionately, noticed the way you always slept together. It filled him with burning jealousy but he would never interfere with your relationship. He realized he was too late and he tried his best to ignore the feeling of his heart breaking little by little every time he was near the both of you. He fucked his way through every brothel in the towns the three of you stayed at but it was never enough. Nobody compared to you.

Geralt decided he needed a night to himself and walked off into the forest, towards a nearby river. He sat down on a large boulder and watched the stars the whole night, not even caring that he didn't get any sleep. Once the sun rose and the day was bright, he made his way back to town, noticing only Jaskier walking out of the inn. His brows furrowed but decided he wouldn't question it as he followed Jaskier into the tavern from the night before. He sat at the bard's table but Jaskier wouldn't look at him. "Jaskier?"

"You're a fool."

"Wha-"

"She left." Geralt was confused. Not from the bard's cold tone but from what he said. "What are you talking about?"

"Y/n left last night. She's gone." Geralt immediately stood, glaring at Jaskier. "And before you ask me where so you can go brood angrily and try to find her, she left because of you. I know you knew she loved you. She just couldn't handle it being unrequited."

Geralt pondered quietly on Jaskier's words as he slowly sat back down. He couldn't meet his eyes anymore as guilt filled him. "How would you know it was unrequited?"

"After all of that, you're going to say some bullshit like that?"

"Jaskier." Geralt growled his warning but he knew the Bard was right. He knew it too well. "You know how much I care about her. I wasn't going to make a move when she was with someone else."

"What are you talking about? She hasn't been with anyone since she started traveling with you."

"What about you?"

"Geralt, we were never together. Did you- did you think we were dating?"

"What else would I think?"

"That maybe she was getting sick and was unhealthy because of all the stupid pining she did after you that I was trying to keep her alive? Geralt, she was deteriorating. It was killing her. Not being loved back. I'm actually glad she left. She needs a life of her own." Geralt couldn't respond, staring at the table instead as he clenched his fists, trying to control his anger. He stood up abruptly once more, making his way out of the tavern, towards the stables. He needed to find you.

"Don't go after her."

"Stay out of this Jaskier."

"No!" Geralt sighed, letting his shoulders fall just a bit, turning to face Jaskier.

"She needs to know it wasn't just her."

"Give her time."

"She's had enough." With that, Geralt climbed onto Roach and road off towards the forest, unbeknownst to him, in the opposite direction from where you went, but Jaskier wasn't going to tell him that.

One year later…

You were bent down in front of the stream that was flowing in the middle of the forest, splashing some water on your face. The last hunt you had was gruesome and you were covered head to toe in monster blood and guts. You felt gross but you knew the next town over was a days travel and you would have to hold out. You heard the slightest shuffle behind you. Any other person wouldn’t have picked up the sound but Geralt had trained you relentlessly and you were really good at it. Your heart panged for a second as you thought about the Witcher. It had been a year since you had left him and Jaskier at the tavern but it was the best choice you could’ve made for yourself. Getting lost in your thoughts, you didn’t notice someone creeping up closer behind you, leaning on a tree, watching you silently.

“You are a hard one to track.”

You didn’t move from your spot, continuing to wash your face even though your heart was pounding a million miles a minute. You instantly knew who it was but you couldn’t give into him like you always did. He chuckled quietly as he watched you act indifferent towards him. “You always did try to act tough, but you always forget I can hear your heart, dove.” You cursed him quietly as you stood from your spot and turned, facing him for the first time in a year.

“Geralt. I see you haven’t changed.” You turned to the side, walking past him, towards your horse and your makeshift campsite. You peeled off your dirty jacket, dropping it on a log as you rubbed your horse’s nose, it huffing back in response, eliciting a smile from you. Geralt followed you, standing near the fire you had started. He looked around at your set up, brows furrowing momentarily as he noticed a few things he didn’t recognize.

“You know me.”

“I used to.” You mumbled this under your breath but you knew he heard you. You couldn't move your head to look at him, scared of seeing any kind of emotion on his face. Geralt looked a bit taken aback by your comment but it had been a year, things were going to be different. He took a seat on the only log and watched you quietly.

“Are you going to tell me why you left?”

“No.” You realized there was nowhere else to sit and sighed exasperatedly, sitting next to Geralt on the log. You watched the fire quietly, feeling his gaze burning into the side of your face. It annoyed you how he felt like he could just walk back into your life and expect you to be as compliant as you used to be. You finally met his eyes and you saw the pain. He looked at you longingly.

“It took me a year to find you.” His voice had lowered as he slowly moved closer to you, raising an arm up to cup your cheek. “I missed you dove.”

You felt your eyes water at his confession. You couldn’t fall back into this hole. You pushed his hand away as you stood, pacing next to the fire. “No. You don’t get to miss me. You don’t get to just come back and think that I’m ready to drop everything and leave with you. You hurt me, Geralt, a lot and I can’t let you do that to me again.”

“I know.” Geralt stood and walked over to you, looming over you as he tried to touch you again, but you pushed away from him, putting some distance between the both of you. “I know I messed up, but I want to fix things. That’s why I’ve been looking for you. I need you to know that I lov-”

“Woo! I finally caught that deer that I told you I saw. We’re going to be eating plenty, my love.” Your eyes widened just a bit as they broke the lock they had with Geralt’s eyes to look at your lover, Matteus. He was holding a large, dead deer in his hands as he noticed you with a strange man, feeling confused. “Who’s this?”

You took a deep breath as you pointed at the Witcher. “Matteus, this is Geralt of Rivia. Geralt, this is my boyfriend, Matteus.”

Forever Tags: @iwantthedean @authoressskr @sorenmarie87 @reigningqueenofwords @goldenolaf25 @giftofdreams @winchesterprincessbride @chelsea072498 @kitchenwitchsuperwhovian @itakeawfultoawholenewlevel @fictionalabyss @gabby913 @angelkurenai @sea040561 @sleepylunarwolf @smoothdogsgirl @carryonmyswansong @feelmyroarrrr @evyiione @supersassyprobablysad @sofreddie @sis-tafics @nitelotus @trexrambling @dancingalone21 @manawhaat @mermaidxatxheart @winchest09 @ellen-reincarnated1967 @mrswhozeewhatsis @just-another-busy-fangirl @lovebodymindstuff @backseat-of-deans-67chevy @chook007 @akshi8278 @evansrogerskitten @bringmesomepie56 @brooklymw @persephonehemingway

The Witcher Tags: @alwayshave-faith @ayamenimthiriel @queenxxxsupreme @stretchkingblog97 @secretsthathauntus @sinnamon-bunn @aubageddon91 @strangerliaa @dressed-up-heartbreak @ex-templarsthot @laneygthememequeen @givemebooksorgivemedeath-blog @afterthenightprevails @l-km07 @msgeorgiarae @uncoolcloudyhead @moderapoppins @augustwalking @yokaimoon @nellaphine @thatshellfiredean @riviawitch3r @sxmmylee @hookedinto-stories @theatreandtessa @comfortingcreature @emiwrites3reads @bravura-cameos @xmother-mortemx

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neon-junkie · 3 years

Text

Duality - Chpts 1,2&3

Summary: There's a handful of things you hate, like the men who continue to pester you at the Saloon after you've told them no, or the way strangers look at you when you decide to wear pants. But the one thing you hate that most is Micah Bell. But if you hate him so much, then why are you allowing him to wrap his hand around your neck as he grinds his crotch down against yours? Is he using you? or are you using him?

Pairing: Micah Bell x f!Reader

Word Count: 8837 (ongoing work)

Rating: NSFW Warnings: Depictions of Violence (Reader is fine)

Tags: Dead Dove: Do not eat, Fights/Arguments, Slow burn, Hate sex, Enemies with benefits, Enemies to lovers, Pity sex, Vaginal sex, Outdoor sex, Creampies, Blood kink, Knives, Choking, Breath play, Rough/Manhandling, Heists & Robberies, Nipple sucking/licking, Making out, Sloppy kisses, Dirty talking, Grinding.

Notes: This fic was inspired by the gang of children that recently decided to start hurdling abuse at me simply because I enjoy Micah character. If he bad then why he make my pussy go brr?? I ain't ever gonna stop writing for him, somebody's gotta love the ratman so I guess I'll volunteer as tribute. This piece is inspired by @deputytrash and their work called ‘Micah Bell is a Rat Bastard,’ that I can’t actually link here because Tumblr hates links:))) so please go stalk them for the original fic. shoutout to all the other Micah fuckers out there; we're kinda fucked up but hey, we ain't hurting anybody<3

[Chapter 4]

Some men are born with the purest of hearts; they're full of good intentions, kindness, willingness to help others. They want to see the world go round, they enjoy watching the days go by with their loved ones around them. They want nothing more than love and equality, happiness for everyone, and they strive to achieve that. Those men, such as Arthur, are ones that you obviously enjoy for such reasons, and you enjoy watching them on the sideline, smiling at the way they make everyone happy. You've tried dating those men before and something felt... off about them, almost fake; you wish to enjoy such relationships with the purest of men, but you've never been able to sit in that saddle comfortably. The leather smells off and something constantly jabs at your tailbone. It's fine, honestly, to not sit comfortably in that saddle. Others can enjoy those men, ones who deserve them, ones who are just as pure and wholesome as those men they seek out. You're happy for them, you enjoy seeing them enjoy each others company, they really do deserve it. Only that leaves you with the problem of 'who the hell am I meant to fall for?' There are others who are sometimes split down the middle, with good and bad intentions, men such as Dutch who eventually crack under so much pressure, as expected. But these men have never really taken your fancy either. You curse the Gods for creating you with no intentions to seek out those pure of heart, or even slightly pure of heart. Why can't you be considered normal? You're a good person, yet you don't long for someone as good as you.

Instead, those who have only ever walked the darker path take your fancy. Those men who have no good intentions in them, who only look out for themselves and sometimes (but rarely) the few people closest to them, if you're stupid enough to get close to them, to begin with. You enjoy the challenge, you enjoy taming the beast, being the one person that someone so wild can trust. It's a generic trope that you've read in romance novels where the princess falls for the villain, but they always seem to have the happiest of endings? and the stories themselves are so juicy, so rich and full of layers. The generic happy couple trope gets so boring, nothing to read into. But if you're given a story about a well-layered villain who softens out within time then you'll eat said story off the dirt if you have to, it's always so rich and fulfilling, though you never expected to end up in one. "Which book are you reading today?" Mary-Beth asks you as she joins you on the beach, leaning back against the log you're leaning against. You do miss sitting on the cliff at Horseshoe Overlook, peering up at the landscape whenever your eyes need a break from being so engulfed in whatever book you were reading. But there's something just as good as looking out at the water, hearing the waves lapping against the shore as you read, enjoying the river breeze on a hot Lemoyne day. "The same as last time, that one centered around the villain," you tell her, your eyes momentarily peeking up to watch as she sits down beside you. "Still? Oh, you and your dark fiction," Mary-Beth replies with a laugh. She'd given your book that nickname after you explained the plot to her. Mary-Beth, as wholesome and pure as she is, couldn't quite understand why you'd get so engulfed in a book where the princess falls for the villain, completely ignoring the stud hero and running off with the bad guy instead. After explaining how layered the villain was, and how his actions were the result of past trauma, she somewhat understood but decided that she's happy with her sappy romance novels. That's understandable, your taste isn't for everyone, and you'd both agreed on that. "Like I said, I just find it more interesting," you reply, your eyes trailing over to the landscape. "Which book have you got?" you ask. "Oh, the same still. I've almost finished it! The poor man in it has finally been turned away from that woman, though they're both in love," she replies. "But from what you've told me, she's not exactly... the best person in the world?" you ask. "I guess not. Maybe I am into a little bit of dark fiction then, hm?" Mary-Beth questions with a soft laugh, finally opening her book to pick up from where she left off. "Maybe-" you begin to speak, but the sound of shouting draws your attention back to camp. You and Mary-Beth peer over your shoulders to watch the commotion in the distance. Ugh. It's Micah again, screaming at Bill for being so kind to the poor dog Jack had found, Cain. He's hollering away, something about not being soft on strays, that they'll only follow you around for food, whatever. You try to hold in your laughter when Micah does the last thing you'd expect, literally barking at Bill before storming off. "That man sure is evil," Mary-Beth comments. "I still ain't sure why Dutch allows him to follow us around, a bit like Cain really," she frowns, turning her gaze away. "He is, funny that he can't see just how much of a dog he is," you laugh along, returning your focus back to your book. "Has he bothered you again recently?" she questions, knowing that your last run-in with him was only a few days ago. "No, he ain't spoke to me, he ain't even looked at me." "Good, probably because he's still got that black eye you gave him," Mary-Beth replies, trying to hold back on her laughter. "Well, he did deserve it." Micah had pestered you a few days ago, stirring up some shit simply because he was bored. You were sat by yourself in camp, playing a solo game of solitaire whilst the wind was quiet, your cards not blowing away for once. He waltzed over, as always, looking like he owned the place; he only acts that way because he sucks up to Dutch, a bit of a teachers' pet, though he's definitely never stepped foot in a school. "Hey," Micah says to you. Well, you were unsure if he was speaking to you as your head was down, focused on the cards, so Micah quickly snapped when you didn't reply. "I said hey. You deaf?" he asks, lightly tapping the back of your shoulder. You let out a long sigh as you roll your eyes and look up. "I didn't know you were speaking to me, Micah," you reply. "Well, who else would I be speaking to, doll? There ain't anyone else around here," Micah says with a laugh, waving his hands about to gesture that nobody was nearby. "I can see that now," you sigh. You begin to put your cards away, knowing that if Micah's here then there's no way you'll be able to play this game in peace. Whatever, you were stumped anyway, considering calling this game quits, and Micahs appearance had encouraged you to do so. "What're you doing?" Micah questions. "I was playing solitaire," you reply, shuffling the cards back together and returning them to their container, an old mints tin that you found fits the cards much better than their old paper box. "And why have you packed up, hm? Is it 'cause I'm here?" Micah asks, knowing the answer. "It is," you say as you stand and put the tin in your pocket, beginning to walk off. The last person you ever want to talk to is Micah, but it seems he really wants to talk to you as he begins to follow you. "Where're you going? I ain't that bad. I know we don't exactly get along but you can't fault me for trying to right these wrongs with you," Micah begins, playing the white knight card as always, batting his lashes as if he hasn't made a handful of remarks towards you in the past, ensuring there's a thick barrier between the two of you. "I ain't interested in making friends with you, Micah. Now leave me be," you snap back, picking up the pace as you storm past Dutch's tent, hoping he'd pick up on the small commotion but his head is buried deep in his current Evelyn Miller book. "Such mean words coming from such a pretty face," Micah pouts, still on your trail, letting out his generic laugh. "Wouldn't you rather have friends than enemies?" "I'd rather have nothing to do with you, Micah," you tell him as you come to a halt, stopping in the dead center of camp. If Micah won't leave you alone then hopefully someone will step in, as their eyes had begun to peer over to the commotion; even Dutch has put his book down. "Easy there, sweetheart," Micah coos with his generic laugh. He goes to speak again but you're quick to cut him off. "I ain't your sweetheart, Micah. Quit calling me those names," you huff. "Of course, you ain't. I like a bit of fire in my women but you're just a bit too reckless for my taste," Micah tells you, his tone slowly turning to frustrated. He's quit the innocent act, lowering his hands as he had them raised as he followed you throughout the camp. If he can't win you over then he'll ensure you never even slightly consider him a friend, beginning to insult you to burn whatever was left of that bridge. "Good, I'd hate to be your taste. What an unlucky woman she must be for the likes of you to have eyes on her." Micah lets out another laugh as he takes a step closer to you, a little too close, and you're quick to cut him off before he can open his mouth. "Back off, Micah. Don't you try and get close to me," you order him. "Why not, hm? You scared someone is finally gonna put a woman like you back in her-" That's enough. Without hesitation, you clench your fist and swing for that vermin of a man, if you can even be kind enough to call him a man to begin with. You were aiming for his nose but hit his cheekbone instead, which is just as good as his eye had swollen up from the impact. Micah stumbled back and hit the ground with the most satisfying thud you'd ever heard, the sound still making you smile whenever you think about it. You didn't stick around much after that, burning the image of Micah lying on the floor clutching his eye into your memory before turning heel and marching off, wandering off into the trees so you could cool yourself off and devilishly admire your bruised knuckles. You refused to bandage them up, even after Charles had practically begged you, but you were eager to show off your trophy, even flaunting it at Micah from a distance whenever he came into your line of sight. His eyes hadn't met yours since, but you could feel his burning glare on you whenever you two were within ten feet of each other. You'd even overheard him attempting to bitch about you to Kieran, who simply nodded along to prevent himself from getting pulled into this mess. Needless to say, you and Micah do not get along. There's a handful of camp members that don't get along, but your burning hatred for each other seems to stand out the most. You're always eager to step in whenever Micahs attempting to chew someone's ear off, and he always gives you that same laugh as he attempts to mock you, but he often turns heel and storms away, calling you a bitch or whatever petty insult he has on his mind. But since that interaction, Micah has stayed well clear of you. Dutch probably told him to stop pestering you after you'd almost knocked his lights out, though you doubt that as Dutch ended up doing something that only seemed to make your 'friendship' worse. ----------- Another day, another dollar, or whatever the civilized phrase is. It's a quote you've heard within towns and cities, something bosses drill into the minds of their workers to stop them from realizing that they're being used as workhorses for less than pennies. At least out here you can work on your own terms, your only boss is Dutch and he always ensures that everybody gets a fair cut. Why slave away in a factory when you can rob some folk that needs robbing and make a few hundred off them? Dutch has a heist planned for you today, one that he says needs a woman touch. Karen is the only other gunwoman in the camp but Dutch has told you that she's a little too reckless for the job. Dutch knows that Sadie is also a gunwoman but she's still in mourning, arguing with Pearson every so often, but she isn't ready to step up to that rank yet. "And that's why I need you for this job. It's genric and old fashioned of us, but there's a payroll heading up into Rhodes and I was thinking you could play the damsel in distress, hunched over at the roadside, pouting sweetly as you ask them for a ride into town," Dutch tells you outside his tent, a week or so after your last run-in with Micah. "And if they don't stop?" you question. "Why would they not stop? A pretty lady such as yourself asking for a ride? When they're already heading that way? They must be some cold-hearted folk in order to turn down such a simple request," Dutch explains. "What will you and the others be doing?" "We'll be hiding nearby, waiting for that opportunity to rob them. Once you're on board then they should hand over the cash, I don't see why they'd want a poor innocent woman to be hurt. Hosea will be waiting in Rhodes to bring you back to camp, and you won't need your guns for the job. A kind, working woman such as yourself wouldn't carry them anyway," Dutch replies with a grin, stubbing out his cigar with the toe of his shoes. The plan seems simple enough, and what have you got to lose? So, you agree to the heist, heading into your tent so you can change your appearance to look like the average working woman. You dress in a simple skirt and shirt, your hair neat and your makeup simple, just how the women in Rhodes dress. Arthur gives you a ride to the location, your horse staying back at camp, as well as your guns. You feel a little uneasy heading out of camp without them, but the boys are hiding behind what's left of a wall nearby. You overheard Arthur protesting with Dutch, saying they shouldn't be robbing folk so close to camp, but Dutch assured them that this would be fine. Dutch has brought along Arthur and Lenny, and unfortunately, Micah, who still hasn't spoken a word to you, but his eye is now unfortunately better. Dutch didn't even mention to you that Micah would be coming along, seeing as your paths weren't meant to cross. This was meant to be a simple holdup job after all, only this gang seems to be cursed as things always go wrong. You're walking along the road, acting as if you're exhausted. The sound of a wagon approaching can be heard, and you peer over your shoulder to see it coming into view. You begin to wave your arms, signaling for them to stop, and thankfully, they do. "Are you alright, Miss?" one of the men questions, the one driving the wagon. There are two more men on horseback behind them, not many guns for a wagon that's carrying payroll. "I do apologize to ask such a request but my horse bucked me a while back, I'm only trying to head into town. Are you heading that way? Would you be able to give me a ride?" you question. You play out the usual body language, slouched shoulders, batting your lashes, and pouting your bottom lip. This is a mans world, after all, but you know exactly how to play the game. The driver and the shotgun speak to themselves quietly, clearly bickering about the fact that they're carrying payroll, but they eventually come to an agreement. "You're welcome to climb on the back of one of the horses, though we can't let you on the wagon, Miss," he replies. Well, that's good enough, at least you're still somewhat of a hostage. "Oh, thank you! I really appreciate it!" you smile sweetly, heading over to the nearest hired gunmen and climbing on the back, loosely holding onto his shirt as you get comfortable on the horse's rear. They return to their journey, barely making it a few meters down the road when one of those slimy Lemoyne Raiders appears from behind a boulder and attempts to hold them at gunpoint. Your eyes peer over to where the gang is hiding and thankfully, Dutch steps in, one gun pointed at the driver and the other at the rival gang member. You're still unsure on what Lemoyne Raiders are. Inbred? Wannabe military? Either way, they're stupid enough to fire without warning, and completely miss Dutch, though Dutch doesn't miss him. The plan goes to shit and you're caught in the middle of the gang war, your gang and the Lemoyne Raiders fighting each other, as well as the wagon. The gunman that you were holding onto slouches over his saddle, a bullet ripping through his side, thankfully missing you. You think Arthur had shot him, but either way, you're pushing his body off and stealing his horse, riding out from the commotion. What help are you now without your guns? It's best that you run away and fast. As you near the camp, you notice a small group of white hats approaching round the bend - lawmen, so you decide to keep riding forward towards Braithwait Manor, dipping off into the trees before they can notice you. You'll find somewhere to hide out until nightfall, riding through the thick forest until you find a shack down south, close to Shady Belle, but far enough from the commotion so the law shouldn't tread down here. The stolen horse is hitched by a tree and you're about to head inside, but the sound of hooves approaching startles you. You hide behind the tree, not providing much cover, but hopefully enough so you can decide how to approach the incoming stranger. If it's a lawman then you can simply burst into tears whilst saying that the horse bolted and you couldn't steer it up into Rhodes, and if it's a fellow gang member then you'll be fine. Well, it is a gang member, just you were hoping for anybody but Micah. He slows Baylock to a halt as you come into his line of sight, stepping out from behind the tree looking like an angry kitten. "You alright?" Micah asks, swinging his leg over the saddle and hopping off his mount. "Go away, go find somewhere else to hide. Shoo," you wave your hands at him, only making Micah laugh instead. "What's a matter? Can't I hide here with you?" he questions as he approaches you. "No, you can't. Go bother someone else, you're the last person I'd ever want to hide from the law with," you huff. Micah isn't budging, he continues to approach you until he's stood in front of you, grinning from ear to ear as he lets out that awful chuckle of his. "You don't mean that. Besides, how're you gonna defend yourself without your guns, huh?" Micah questions, resting his hands on his gunbelt. "Well, you know that I can swing a punch, can't you, Micah?" you tease, giving him a smug smile which wipes the grin off his face, turning into a frown. "And here I was just tryna look out for you. Nasty thing, aren't you?" Micah spits. "I am, and I ain't welcoming to you, Micah," you huff again, resting your hands on your hips. "Now, I'm gettin' real sick of the way you talk to me, girl. I ain't been nothin' but nice to you," Micah tuts, taking another step towards you. He's pressed up far too close to your chest, puffing his own out as his icy blue eyes scowl into yours. "You may be a big girl in the eyes of Dutch, but you ain't to me." "I don't care, Micah. I don't need your approval, nor your company, so scram!" This time, Micah goes for you, reaching out to grip ahold of your arm. He takes a firm grasp of you but before you can find out what he was planning on doing, you're pushing him away, shoving him back by the chest. He stumbles backwards but doesn't slump to the ground, catching his own fall as he glares at you. His death glare makes your face turn sour and you begin to foresee that one of you isn't going to make it back to camp. Micah lunges for you again, grabbing onto your shoulders as he begins to try and tackle you to the ground. You manage to shove him off and land a punch to the same cheekbone, only it's not enough to stop him. He continues to fight you, eventually managing to shove you to the floor. He tries to climb onto you, attempting to pin you to the ground but you land a swift kick to his baby balls. He lets out a choke as his body goes limp and you jump at the opportunity to shove him onto his back, pinning him down instead. Micah attempts to grab onto you but you're quick, taking his own knife from its holster and pinning it beneath Micahs chin. He stops, freezing up and removing his hands from you, lying in the dirt with his swollen eye locked onto yours. There's silence, no words spoken from either of you, just heavy panting and the sound of the trees rustling. Micah licks his lips, tasting the blood that has trailed down from his nose, and eventually speaks. "Go on, girl. Do it," he tells you, his Adam's apple bouncing against the blade as he speaks. You don't reply, so Micah jumps down your throat again. "I said do it! Show me what a big girl you are," he says with a laugh. "If I am to kill you then I'd rather do it with my bare hands," you spit at him, pressing the knife sharply on his neck. From the way Micah attempts to flinch back, you're certain you've managed to cut him. Good, he deserves it. "Do it then. Go on, get rid of me already. Just do everyone a favour," Micah replies, his hands raising yet again, doing that generic innocent pose even as he has a knife held to his throat. As much as you'd love to, you know the consequences for killing other camp members. You could say he died in combat but Dutch knows that Micah can take on a bunch of Lemoyne Raiders with his eyes closed. Plus, it's far too suspicious for you to be the one breaking the 'bad' news. But you might as well scare some sense into Micah, maybe choke him unconscious then bail back to camp before he can wake. Hopefully, he'll finally get it into his thick skull to stay away from you, though you doubt it, but at least you'll have fun. You remove Micahs own knife from his neck, stabbing it into the earth beside his head. He watches you with wide eyes, attempting to look at his knife but you grip onto his throat. You know how to choke someone to death, and you know how to choke someone unconscious, so you go for the second option and tighten your grip under his jawline, avoiding his windpipe so that he doesn't stop breathing. He lets out a choked exhale as you begin jabbing your fingers into his throat, pushing more than hard enough to eventually knock his lights out. You know you look a mess, covered in dirt with scruffed up hair, a glare on your face that could easily kill a man; Micah looks up at you through half-lidded eyes, keeping his gaze locked onto yours as he attempts to breathe. You can hear the pressure on his throat with every breath, his lips remaining parted, blood still trickling from his nose, and his eye swelling up more by the second. His clothes are just as dirty as yours, his hat has fallen off his head a long time ago, his white pants are almost brown from rolling in the dirt, and his red shirt is missing a few buttons from where you've grabbed him. Micahs parted lips quickly turn into a grin as his eyes begin to fall shut. You've never seen him pull a face like this, but he looks... pleasurable. He somehow has enough energy to reach up and grip onto the waistband of your skirt, trailing his fingertips along the band before settling each hand firmly on your hips. He's... enjoying this, isn't he? Your thoughts are confirmed when Micah opens his eyes again; his pupils are blown, wide and full of lust, gazing up at you like a piece of meat, ready to pounce on you (if he could.) You want to feel sick. Why don't you feel sick? Why isn't your stomach turning at the sight of Micah taking pleasure in your attempt to kill him? You push down harder on his neck, wishing you were gripping onto his windpipe instead. His smile eventually fades away, his eyes rolling shut as he lets out slower muffled breaths. His grip on your hips falls limp and you know he's finally unconscious. This was meant to be the part where you run, heading back to camp before he can wake, praying he never even looks at you ever again. But you remove your hand from his throat, noticing how his body twitches as he begins to breaths properly again, and using the same hand that you just choked him with, you land a harsh slap right across his face. It's loud and sharp enough that it echoes throughout the forest, startling the horses and scaring a few birds away. You instantly regret your decision, your hand throbbing from how hard you slapped him, but the way Micah jolts awake gives you a sickly satisfaction. He begins coughing, propping himself up on his elbows as he attempts to catch his breath. You don't move off him, sitting back on your knees, his legs beneath yours, watching in delight as he returns to the conscious word. Micah lies back down, his deep breaths eventually turning into a chuckle as his eyes meet yours. "I knew you were just like me," Micah says with a sniff, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. His nose is still bleeding, turning his moustache red, and now his cheek as he's smeared his own blood across his face. "I knew you were sick..." he laughs. "I ain't sick, Micah," you frown. "If you ain't then you won't enjoy this-" Micah somehow has enough energy to flip your bodies over, pinning you down to the ground, narrowly missing his knife that is still jabbed into the dirt. You attempt to push him off, trying to kick him in the balls again but he's pinned you down as well as you had pinned him down. He does exactly what you feared he'd do, wrapping his own rough hand around your neck, pressing on those spots under your jawline that you unfortunately enjoy. You try and fight it, attempting to gulp down air, attempting to push him off. But the more you fight him, the more he holds you down, and the more you find yourself enjoying it. "Give in to it, sweetheart. Just let it happen," he tells you, the words that you didn't want to hear, but only because they're sickly yet tempting. Micah adjusts his grip and finally hits the nail in the coffin, your mind turning cloudy, the blood pulsating through your brain. That feeling in your stomach begins to burn, trailing down your body and making your pussy clench. You hate this man so much, yet you're allowing him to do this to you. "Atta girl," Micah praises you as you stop fighting him, letting your eyes shut and your mouth part. You're weak enough for Micah to shift his weight, parting your thighs with his knees and sitting between them after he bunches your skirt up. One hand remains on your neck whilst the under sneaks underneath your waist, pulling your hips up onto his knees. His crotch pushes against yours, his hand trailing over your clothed thigh, moving up to your knee as he adjusts your legs so they're wrapped around his waist. For some reason, you cross your ankles, only encouraging him to grind his crotch against yours, rutting his hard-on against your pussy. The mewl that escapes your lips is definitely accidental, but Micah tilts his head up to let out a hum of approval as he watches the colour continue to drain from your face. "Such a pretty sound coming from that pretty face of yours. You're goin' pale tho, darlin'. Least you ain't still spittin' venom at me," Micah smirks. The blood from his nose drips down onto your own face, painting your cheek, and the sight of his blood on you makes his pupils turn wide again, licking his lips as he finally removes his hand from your throat. You gasp, gulping down air, letting out a few coughs as you manage to fill your lungs back up. Micah barely gives you enough time to come back to reality before he's crashing his lips against yours, pinning your hands on either side of your head, grinding his crotch down hard against yours. You let out a whimper as he manages to brush his crotch perfectly against your clit, making him chuckle against your lips as he kisses you. Are you kissing him back? Unfortunately so, but only because the taste of his blood on his lips is making your arousal grow, and he's grinding against you far too perfectly to ignore. You eventually lap away at his blood, his nosebleed finally coming to a halt, and the feeling of his prickly moustache becomes more and more prominent. It's far too annoying for you to make out with him and ignore it, and it eventually irritates you to a point that you break the kiss. "What'cha stopping for?" Micah pouts, halting his grinding for the moment. "Your 'stache is too long, it's itchy," you tell him. "Well, I'll make sure it's trimmed for next time," Micah replies as he rolls his eyes. "There ain't gonna be a next time, Micah," you scowl back. "Oh, that so?" Micah chuckles, doubting your claim. "Well, I'll just have to make this worthwhile," he informs you. Micah moves his hands off your wrists, sitting up on his knees and pulling his knife out of the ground. He wipes the dirt off on his jeans then grips onto your undergarments, pulling the fabric away from your skin so he can slice down the crotch, ripping apart the garment and leaving a large hole right in the middle of them. "Micah!" you snap as you sit up on your elbows. "I'll buy you a new pair," Micah monotonously replies, a large lack of sympathy in his voice. You could have sworn he rolled his eyes as well. He holsters his knife and rips apart the hole even more, almost ripping the garment in two, exposing your pussy for his pleasure. Micah hums in appreciation as he gazes at the sight, pushing your thighs apart as he dips his head down and spits onto your folds. You'd be lying if you said you didn't enjoy it, and Micah picks up on the glisten in your eyes as he straightens his back up and begins to unfasten his pants, leaving his gunbelt on the ground beside you. Micah pulls out his cock, an average looking one, rock hard and flushed pink at the tip. You're surprised that his pubes are neatly trimmed, just as dirty blonde as his hair, but he keeps his pubes neater for whatever reason. He ruts his cock over your folds, slicking himself up with his spit and your juices; to say you aren't wet is also a lie, you've been soaking the second he put his hand around your throat. Micah finally pushes into you, slow and steady, letting out an "ooh" once he's fully sheathed inside of you. "It's always tighter if I don't finger you," he comments, licking his lips as he moves his hands underneath each knee, spreading your legs apart as far as he wants. Why are you allowing this man to fuck you? You're not sure, though you don't regret it, especially when he begins to thrust into you, surprising you with the way he rolls his hips, the tip of his cock hitting that spot inside of you with every thrust. If someone had told you this morning that you'd end up spending the evening with Micah Bell thrusting inside of you, after the two of you had had a fight and ended up aroused by it, then you probably would have punched them too after informing them that they're drunk. But here you are, allowing Micah to fuck you senseless, pounding you into the dirt as he lets out surprisingly pleasant sounds. "Shit!" you gasp as Micah shifts his weight, moving his hands off your knees to wrap around your waist. He pulls you up into his lap, lifting your ass off the floor and angling your body perfectly so he's directly hitting your g-spot with every roll of his hips. Micah's fucking you like a rabbit, fast and unforgiving, eager to make your walls tighten around him so he can fill you up with his cum. Micah begins to bare his teeth, hissing through them as he pounds you. You're a moaning mess beneath him, not holding back on the volume of your moans as nobody is nearby, and your volume level is filling Micahs ego more and more by the second. "That's a good girl," he tells you, his hazy eyes meeting yours. "I always knew you'd be a good fuck, the feisty ones always are," he chuckles. You roll your eyes at his comment, making him laugh instead. Ugh. That stupid laugh of his, the one he always drags out only because he knows it gets on everyone's nerves. You think fast, moving one hand back onto his throat to cut that dreadful sound out. His lips remain parted, slightly smiling as he continues to fuck you, enjoying that irritated glisten to your eyes. You tighten your grip on his throat, forcing a choked moan from Micahs lips. Micah's already hunched over you but you pull him down to your level, speaking right against his lips as you order him to "fuck me harder." "With pleasure," Micah manages to reply, gasping and straightening his back the second you let go of his throat. Micah keeps one arm underneath your waist, holding you firmly on his lap, whilst the other moves between your legs. His hand rests on your stomach, his thumb moving down to begin massaging your clit, flicking the bud in circles, his cock throbbing every time your muscles begin to shake. He's returned to letting out moans, followed by the occasional grunt through gritted teeth. You've seen Micah come undone before, you've seen that feral look in his eyes as he loses his cool and guns down an army of people. But this? This was a different look, just as feral but fueled by a mixture of lust and spite. Is he just using you for a fuck? Yes, but you're doing the same with him. And do you think you'll end up fucking him again? Possibly, but only if you can watch the life drain from his face again. It's sickeningly arousing, but Micah seems to enjoy it too. "You're gonna make me cum," you sigh, your thigh muscles beginning to shake, your eyes scrunching shut as your head rolls back in the dirt. "I know," Micah confidently replies, rubbing his thumb even firmer against your clit. What a cocky piece of shit, though you admire the confidence. You can't believe you're moaning his name as you orgasm, panting and shaking, wrapping your legs even tighter around Micahs waist as he pushes his cock deep inside of you and earns his own release. His hands grip onto your hips, his forehead eventually slumping on your chest as he pants and groans, filling you up with god knows how many months worth of cum, maybe longer, depending on whoever else has been stupid enough to sleep with him. Micah eventually straightens his back and pulls out of you, letting your legs slip from around his waist as you untangle your body from his. He looks debauched, his hair and clothes scruffy and dirty, not to mention the dried blood smeared across his face and moustache. You're certain you look just as bad, spending your evening rolling about in the dirt with the man you hate the most. Hate? Or hated? as you somewhat like the sight of Micah like this. Maybe you could tolerate him under these terms, and only under these terms. You attempt to sort your appearance out as you stand up, stretching your legs, hearing your knees click after being bent for so long. Micah does the same as he pulls himself up, tucking his cock away then picking his hat up. He whistles for Baylock who had wandered off into the forest, probably not wanting to be around... that. The horse you'd stolen has managed to unhitch itself and disappear, and you honestly don't blame them, but that means the only way back is hitching a ride off Micah or walking for an hour. "Looks like you're riding with me," Micah tells you. "I don't want to be seen trailing into camp with you, not when we both look like this," you tell him as he mounts Baylock. "How's about I drop you off on the edge of camp then spend a few hours away? Would that make you happy?" Micah offers, holding out his hand at the same time. "It would," you tell him, swatting his hand away and climbing up onto Baylock on your own terms. "So, you'll let me fuck you but won't even take my hand?" Micah chuckles as he clicks his tongue, letting Baylock go at a soft pace as you ride side-saddle. "Yep, and don't forget that you owe me new underwear," you remind him. "Oh, I won't forget to buy you some new panties, Miss. I'll buy you a whole set of lingerie if it means I get to cut it off your body," Micah teases but you know he's serious. "If that's what you want," you reply with a shrug. "You'd let me?" he questions, peering over his shoulder at you. "I would," you reply. For some reason, you lick your thumb and attempt to wipe some of the dried blood from his cheek. Maybe the sight bothers you, but Micah doesn't seem to mind as he lets you clean him up, his eyes occasionally flicking onto the road. "You wanna give me a kiss when you're done with cleaning me up?" Micah asks with a smirk. "No," you frown, pushing his face away from yours. He laughs as he looks forward, returning his focus back to driving. You and Micah don't speak another word on the short journey back, apart from a "thanks," from you as you slide off Baylock. He drops you on the edge of the forest, letting you walk down the path back into Clemens Point. You manage to sneak back into the camp; the only person who saw you in your state was Charles who simply said "I won't ask," when you gave him a look that said 'please don't.' You feel much better once you've cleaned yourself up and got cozy in bed, though your body aches from fucking in the dirt, and you're almost certain you're going to have bruises around your neck by the time morning is here. But the fresh memory of having hate sex with Micah only seems to arouse you again; just like Micah said, you are sick, just as sick as him. But if this unspoken arrangement is a good way of letting out anger then why not continue it? --------------- It's been a week since your accidental encounter with Micah. He's still not replaced your underwear, nor has he spoken a word to you, but you've picked up on those disgustingly arousing glances he sends you from across the camp. You've been tempted to chew his ear out about not paying you back yet, but he's not been in camp often, and when he has been in camp, it's been during the day and around others. The bastard knows what he's doing, and he definitely knows that you're still angry that he hasn't repaid you yet. You've been assigned guard duty tonight, doing lap after lap around the outskirts of the camp until 3am, which is when you can tap Bill awake and send him on his way to take over. Well, 3am is here and that's exactly what you're doing, prodding Bill awake and handing him the shotgun. You somehow didn't notice that Baylock had appeared amongst the horses, but you do notice that distinct white hat on the edge of camp. Micahs stood on the beach, looking out at the water with his arms crossed, a cigarette between his fingers. Finally, the opportunity to chew his ear off. You stroll over, ensuring nobody else is awake, not wanting to question why you're eagerly approaching the man you despise. "Micah," you greet as you stand next to him. "There she is, just the girl I was looking for," Micah greets you as he exhales his cigarette smoke. "You ain't looking for me, Micah. You're stood here having a smoke," you roll your eyes. "I was hoping I would have fucked that attitude out of you. Seems I ain't fucked you hard enough," he says with a laugh. You peer over your shoulder, reminding yourself that nobody is awake, nor nearby, but you don't want to risk your chances. "We don't talk about that in camp, alright?" you threaten. "Fine, whatever you want," Micah shakes his head as he finishes off his cigarette, flicking it onto the floor and stomping it out. You're about to begin questioning him on your missing underwear but he begins to walk off, heading further along the beach. "Where are you going?" you scowl as you follow him. "Over here so I can sit down. Was gonna ask if you're joining me but it seems you are," he says with a laugh, leaning back against a large boulder. You frown at him but settle beside him, turning your attention to him again. "I only came over here to ask you-" "-s'on your bedroll," Micah tells you. "What?" you question. "That new underwear I promised, I've just placed it on your bedroll whilst you were on guard duty. Plus a little something extra to make up for how long you've waited for it," Micah answers, his eyes fixated on the water. "Hmm..." you ponder, unsure if you believe him. "What? Don't you trust me?" Micah questions as he finally looks over at you. "Not at all," you scowl again. "Well, you'll see that I'm telling the truth sooner or later. Go check now if you want, I don't care," he shrugs. You stare at him again, trying to look for any signs of lying, but he gives you none; his nose doesn't twitch, his eyes stay glued to yours, he doesn't rub the back of his neck. Micah is probably telling the truth, knowing that you'll whack him over the head with a bottle next time you see him if he lies to you. "See, told you I ain't lying," Micah snickers as he looks back out over the water. You don't reply, you just lean back against the rock and turn your attention to the landscape. Your brows remain furrowed, arms loosely crossed, enjoying the sound of the waves lapping against the shore, the moonlight only just providing enough light as you're far enough from camp. A few minutes pass and Micah turns his attention back to you. "Why're you still here?" he bluntly asks. "I ain't sure, I'm going to bed," you shrug. You begin to stand, barely getting off your ass when Micah reaches out and grabs you by the waist, pulling you back down onto his lap with a slight thud. "What do you want?" you snap, picking his hands off your waist in disgust, making him laugh at the sight. "Just wanted to spend some quality time with my favourite camp member," he replies, though you're unsure if he's being sarcastic. "Well, you ain't my favourite," you huff. "Always so feisty towards me, ain'tcha? What's wrong? You still hate me even after you let me fuck you?" Micah questions with a throaty laugh, grinning from ear to ear. "I hate you even more now," you tell him, shuffling about on his lap until you're straddling him, one leg on either side of his hips, your chests almost touching. "That'd explain why you've just got comfortable on my lap rather than walking away," Micah chuckles again, knowing he's damn well in the right. He slips his hat off his head, placing it on the ground beside him, not wanting it to get in the way. You let out a sigh as you roll your eyes. "Ain't I allowed to just take some attention from you, Micah?" you question, batting your lashes and removing the frown from your face. "You're allowed to take whatever you want from me, s'long as I get something in return," Micah tells you as he wraps his arms loosely around your waist. "So it's agreed? That we'll just... enjoy this pity sex? But only because it lets off some steam," you place the offer down, finally trying to decide on this agreement. "It is agreed, sweetheart. You can call it pity sex or whatever else you want, but maybe I'll just fuck you so good that you'll end up likin' me?" Micah chuckles, pulling you onto his lap more as he speaks to you in a husk tone. "I ain't your sweetheart and I ain't ever gonna like you, Micah Bell," you spit. "Sure you ain't," he grins. So, this is what it's come to. You're sleeping with the enemy, pity fucking the man you hate the most, allowing him to pry into your private life and between your legs just for a little bit of satisfaction. Do you care? No. Should you care? Probably. But you're getting pleasure, finally, after waiting for so long. The gang is always on the move, running from the law and whoever else is chasing you, depending on where you are and who you've pissed off. You've flirted with other gang members before but it's never escalated anywhere, so if sleeping with Micah means you'll finally stop humping your pillow every night then why not? And maybe you can fuck some sense into him, maybe a bit of kindness of basic respect? You doubt it, but it'd be nice. A life where Micah isn't chaotic would be perfect, or one where he entirely didn't exist. But this is the way the world currently is, so you'll just have to make do with what you've got. You're still going to bark back at him whenever he kicks up a fuss in camp. If anything, you're eager to put him in his place. Maybe you can punish him every time he steps out of line? Maybe this... enemies with benefits, or whatever you want to call it, could whip Micah into shape and prevent him from being such an annoyance towards everyone. Probably not, but you can still hope. Micah tightens his grip around your waist as he lets out a pleasing hum, tugging you down to his level so he can kiss you. You're reluctant as his moustache was so irritating last time, but to your surprise, Micah has trimmed it to prevent the irritation, his 'stache brushing against your upper lip rather than prickling it. Micahs kisses are a lot more tender this time, not covered in blood and heavy breathing, not battling for dominance whilst both your minds are hazy from all that choking. Micah moves one hand up to entangle his fingers in your hair, cupping the back of your head. Your lips soon slide open, your tongue greeting Micahs. He bites your bottom lip softly, letting the skin slowly slip from his grasp before kissing you again, earning himself a soft moan as you shuffle onto his lap more. Things are slowly turning heated, Micahs kisses getting sloppier yet firmer by the second, drawing more moans and whimpers from your lips as he continues to make out with you. You pray that nobody has woken up, not wanting them to see... this. How would you attempt to explain this? Could you say you tripped and fell into Micah after not seeing him sat there, and you'd just accidentally kissed him on the way down? Could you say this way a new way of fighting, to show him what he's missing out on if he'd just be a good boy? Yeah, those excuses are rubbish. But you're sure you'd hear anyone approaching, not unless they're stealthy. Micah moves his hands to your chest, unbuttoning your shirt, stopping at your lower ribs. He breaks the kiss so he can pull your shirt open, cupping each of your breasts and leaning his head into them. His mouth latches onto one of your nipples, sucking at it surprisingly gently, flicking his tongue over the nub, tenderly kissing it. His hand massages them, kneading them softly. Micah moves onto your other nipple, repeating the process, sucking on your tits as he lets out a satisfying hum. "I ain't sure what my favourite part of you is, these things, or that nasty bite of yours," Micah says with a soft laugh between kisses. "Oh, you have such a way with words," you roll your eyes. "You know, I think we'd get along much better if you'd just tease me with these things in camp," Micah replies, returning his focus to your breasts. "I'll remember that in the future," you say, making a mental note. Maybe you could find a way to manipulate him? Using your womanly charm to tame this beast? It's a push but it's worth a try. He continues to suck at them, making your arousal grow, and you know he's getting aroused as you can feel it pressed against your thigh. Micah moves off your breasts and gently pulls your head down, enjoying another kiss, still tender, not the style you expected a man such as Micah to have. Micah breaks the kiss, urging you off him. "Now, come on. Before I start thinkin' with my dick and fuck you right in the middle of camp. But you'd like that, wouldn't you, you whore?" he questions, buttoning up your shirt for you. "You admit to thinking with your dick, yet I'm the whore?" you smirk, pointing out the flaw to his logic. "Real smart, ain'tcha girl?" Micah mocks, shooing you off his lap once your shirt is fastened. Micah stands first, pulling you up afterward. His hand lingers for a little too long in yours, though you don't move your hand away either. He begins walking with you back to camp, readjusting his hat as he walks. Micah dips before you approach camp, not wanting to risk anybody latching onto your agreement. Thankfully, nobody is awake, but you head straight to your tent anyway. You fasten the tent flaps behind you, lighting your lantern, and begin getting ready for bed. You notice the tailor box on your cot and open it up, revealing the replacement underwear, as well as the 'little something extra' that Micah had promised you. It's a full set of lingerie, an expensive-looking set too, a frilly white chemise, corset, and stockings. The chemise is definitely that short for a reason; you wonder what Micah's planning, though he did say that he wanted to cut it off you. You hope to at least get some use out of it before he does that.

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nemir · 3 years

Text

𝕤 𝕡 𝕝 𝕖 𝕟 𝕕 𝕚 𝕕

✞——————❆——————✞

» pairing; haurchefant greystone x rhen {my wol}

» word count: 6k!!! EXACTLY.

» content; mutual pining, mixed messages, adult themes,

» an; written over the course of a few days while listening to Kiss from a Rose by Seal on repeat fjgdkljd (also huge shoutout to the Haurchefant I've been hanging out with, you're an inspiration to us all)

"Curse the twelve for this weather! It's too damn cold." A viera woman pushed her way through the front doors of a stone building at Camp Dragonhead, giving little care to the volume - and tone - of her voice. She shivered once inside, pulling the large hood from her cloak back off her head. Jet black ears sprang up immediately, to which her hands lifted to smooth out her choppy black hair. "Right. Where is he?"

The sell-swords and infantrymen who were keeping warm by the fire inside blinked, heads tilting. "Er … Who, ma'am?"

The woman balked. "What do you me--" She stopped herself short and let out a short breath. "Pray, forgive me. My name is Rhen Hrafna, I'm looking for Lord Haurchefant Greystone. Is he in?" She crossed her arms beneath her cloak, the tiniest hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips; one that nobody would be able to see unless they were up close.

"M-my lady! Our deepest apologies!" The men and women who stood suddenly straightened their backs and saluted, and the ones who remained seated bowed their heads in both shame and reverence. "He's stepped out for but a moment! I-is there anything we can do for you in the meanti-"

"Leave." A single word. It was curt and blunt, but it wasn't filled with malice or meant to cause harm. It was a simple request, as made evident by the viera's smile. The infantrymen took it as an order, and all let out a breath of relief. It meant they were able to go to the mess hall to eat and kick their feet up for a time. A short time, as peace was not something the Highlands knew much of, but it was welcomed nonetheless. "And please," she spoke as they filed out, passing by them as she made her way further into the room, "only return if it is an absolute emergency. Important Scion matters, and whatnot." Rhen rolled her hand in a nonchalant circle, to which some of the infantrymen snickered and rolled their eyes but nodded in understanding all the same, and finally Rhen was left alone.

It wasn't for long. As she hopped up onto the long desk that stood at the far back of the room and leaned forward with her palms pressed into the solid wood, the front doors opened again letting in a blast of cold winter air. "Best to keep bundled up out there, my friends! The wind is blowing something fierce!" A tall elezen man had come in and quickly closed the door behind him. His silver-blue hair tumbled out from his helm as he pulled it off, giving his head a single shake before turning around to a near-empty room. "Ah."

"Lord Haurchefant." Rhen remained on the desk, her legs crossing at the knee. "Braving the weather, I see? And what, pray tell, was so important that made you late for our meeting?" She was teasing him, of course. Even if she could keep a serious tone, her face would give it away in an instant.

"If it isn't my favourite champion! I do so sincerely apologize for the delay, and I hope you are willing to forgive me. It was not very noble of me to keep a lady waiting - especially one as important as you." His lips grew into a long, thin smile, brilliant blue eyes practically glimmering beneath the lights. He strode across the room, arms opening wide as he drew closer to the viera woman. "Could you find it in your heart of hearts?"

"Hmm... I'm not so sure, my Lord." Rhen's head canted to the side, her own grin growing to match his. She pressed a finger to her chin and tapped it a few times, "Perhaps," she started, noting his crestfallen face, "a hot cocoa will do the trick? You look as though you could use one, too." When he was within reach, she opened her own arms and pulled him into a warm - albeit slightly awkward due to his armor - embrace. "I've missed you." Her voice was soft, evidently content and feeling at peace in this moment.

“As I have missed you! Every time you leave the camp, I start wondering when I will be graced by not only your presence, but your shining and beautiful face again. It pains me so, to see you leave through those doors, you know.” His voice was friendly, not as deep as one would imagine upon first looking at him. It was jovial and bouncy, and it was clear he could make anyone smile, or break them out of a sour mood with just a few kind words. Haurchefant was sure to give her an extra squeeze before pulling away, resting his hands on her elbows as he got a good look at her. “Just as beautiful as the first day I met you. Right! Let’s get some of that cocoa going, eh?” He pulled away completely, still beaming at Rhen, then quickly turned on his heels and hurried through the door that led to his private stores.

✞——————❆——————✞

“Halone preserve me.” His words were hushed and quick as he sank back against the door. His hand lifted, wrist pressing to his forehead. What was he going to do? He had always been shameless in his flirting with the Warrior of Light - he didn’t exactly keep his feelings a secret. But… Did she know? Was he too forward just now, with his words and his actions? No, he couldn’t have been! She’s the one who welcomed, and even initiated, the embrace! Did that mean she felt the same…? “Pull yourself together, man!” His hand dragged down his face, and he let out a long breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “There is no way she could… She would ever...” He stopped himself and shook his head. “Hot cocoa. Right.”

“Why didn’t I kiss him.” As soon as she heard the door shut behind him, Rhen’s expression dropped and her hands immediately shot to cover her face. She let out a long groan of frustration, kicking her feet a bit off the side of the desk. “Gods dammit, Rhen.” Her hands fell back down to her lap and she sighed. She was getting ahead of herself. Sure, she could have kissed him. But would he even want that? Did he even have feelings for her? But the way he spoke to her… No, he talked to everyone like that didn’t he? Well, perhaps not everyone, but surely - “Ugh!” She hopped off the desk and started pacing up and down the length of the desk, arms crossed under her chest. Was she really in any position to develop feelings, especially for one with whom she worked so closely? It could potentially become a conflict of interest, and Rhen knew she wouldn’t hear the end of it from Alphinaud… not to mention Tataru would have that rumour spread faster than one could say ‘Hydaelyn’. No, no. Best to put the thought to rest. For now.

Finally, the water was ready and he carefully poured the water in. He gave each mug a good stir, then lifted each mug and held one out to Rhen. “For you, my lady.”

As if on cue, the elezen pushed his way through the door with two tin mugs in one hand, the other holding a sack filled with powder and a small jug of milk. His usual, friendly smile was plastered on his face and he seemed no different than he had before he walked into his store room. “Shouldn’t take too long, now! Just need to boil the water.” He moved fluidly across the room, retracing the same steps he had taken many times before on occasions just like these, be they with friends, random adventurers, and even on his own. He dropped the supplies on the desk, moved to the hearth to grab a small black cauldron which he brought over to another room which held a small fountain of water. He scooped some in, and with ease, carried it back and hitched it onto the short chain that hung right above the fire. Soon enough the flames were licking the bottom of the cauldron, and a small bit of steam rose from the lightly bubbling water. In the meantime, he set to prepping the mugs, spooning out generous portions of the cocoa powder into each, followed by a good splash of milk.

She took it with a smile. “Thank you.” Though it was hot, she cupped the mug with both hands, thankful for the warmth it provided her. The stone buildings of the Highlands, which were respite from the freezing temperatures outside, did not do well in terms of insulation and there was always a chill, regardless of how long a fire had been going. She moved closer to the hearth and sank down onto a bench that had been haphazardly pulled up by the infantrymen earlier on. Rhen lifted the mug closer to her face, taking in the smell of the decadent cocoa before blowing softly at the rim and taking a small sip. “Mmmn.. Delicious, as always.” Her head turned slightly, “The best hot cocoa this side of Ishgard. I could never have a better cup.”

He beamed in response, taking a small sip of his own. “Oh, you flatter me so.” He leaned back against the bench, resting his arm against the top, his fingers just inches from Rhen. It took everything he had to resist the temptation to reach out and gently stroke her back. “But if you insist. I’ve had a lot of time to practice making it. Not to mention countless cold and thirsty knights.” His eyes darted from her to the warm glow of the fire. “I couldn’t be happier, knowing someone as splendid as you, enjoys such a simple little treat.”

The viera scoffed, “Please. I’m not that special, Haurchefant.” She turned herself slightly on the bench, facing the knight a little better now. “I’m just an average adventurer.” Those words would hit a chord with him, and she knew it. It was said on purpose, as she loved how passionate he got when it came to her. It made her heart skip a beat, and her stomach turn in welcoming anxious knots.

“Average?! There is nothing average about you, Lady Rhen! You are malms above average! Imagine, the Warrior of Light, Hydaelyn’s chosen, arguably the most important member of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn being just average!” Here it came. That passionate, near heated retort. He nearly spilled his cocoa with how animated and excitable he got. “The things people would do to be included, or even acknowledged, by you and yours! Why, I had to pinch myself after I met you the first time! I could hardly believe that someone I had heard so much about, someone who had beaten primals, waltzed through my door!” His free hand had lifted to his head, a finger and thumb pressing against his temples. “The… the very notion that you, after all you have done, would think you are av-”

“Haurchefant.” Rhen hadn’t expected this much. She had no idea he’d take it so personally. “R-really, you don’t need to go into so much! A lot of what I’ve accomplished is because I haven’t done it alone, or even by mere coincidence! Luck, even.” She leaned her shoulder against the bench, looking up at him bewildered, one hand pressed to her chest.

“No! Rhen, you don’t-” He stood up, and took one step before turning slightly so his back was to her. “I mean.” A deep breath steadied him. “You truly are splendid, Rhen Hrafna, and that is something I will not argue.” He glanced to the hearth again, his hair falling over his eyes in such a way that blocked them from Rhen’s view.

She sighed, and reached out toward him. “I appreciate your kind words, really, I do. They… they mean a lot to me.” Her gaze was still steady on his face, though struggled to read it. She took a moment to ponder her next words carefully, sipping at her still-hot cocoa. “...You-”

“I apologize for my outburst, my lady.” He hadn’t meant to cut her off, but the silence was killing him. “Ah, but I forget myself. You came here to discuss important matters regarding the Scions, correct?” He turned back around to face her and sat down on the bench once more, that usual smile on his face. Truly, he wasn’t himself without it.

Rhen bit her lip, looking away for a brief moment, then retracted her hand the moment he turned around. “You’ve nothing to apologize for, Lord Haurchefant.” She shook her head, and returned the smile. “But, yes,” her body shifted slightly, “that is why I came here. It… really isn’t anything terribly important. Alphinaud just wanted me to relay some information, catch up with how things are progressing here.”

“Ah! The young Master Alphinaud! How is the lad? Chipper as always, I expect!” Haurchefant let out a chuckle, “As for how things are here, they are the same as ever, I’m afraid! The occasional threat, but nothing we haven’t been able to handle I can assure you! I trust things are going well over in Ishgard? You had an audience with Ser Aymeric, didn’t you?” It was time for Haurchefant to shift his body, though it seemed a bit more tense, more stiff.

“Yes, that’s right.” Rhen sipped her cocoa, “He was gracious, and a very kind host. I can see why he’s held in a relatively high regard. I look forward to meeting with him again, and hopefully working together toward not only rebuilding Ishgard, but reestablishing an alliance. They would prove to be an incredibly valuable ally. Alphinaud is still there, actually.”

“I see.” His words were uncharacteristically short, and lacked the usual vim and vigor. “It seems you have your hands full. To be expected, of course.” He nodded once before bringing the mug to his lips to take a long drink. “I…” the knight started to speak, and Rhen tilted her head, waiting for him to finish. “I hope you still remember your friends,” the word was stilted, “back here at Camp Dragonhead. While there isn’t much more you are able to do for us - not that we wouldn’t appreciate any help, of course - I… these halls would feel empty without a visit from you, whenever you are able.”

She felt herself recoil. Friend. There it was. The word she had been dreading. So, that’s how he really felt. She inhaled from her nose, sharp and short. “I could never forget you. All of you,” she added. “You have done much for me, and for the future of all Eorzea, Lord Haurchefant. Don’t discredit yourself and your accomplishments.” Tentatively, she reached a hand out and pressed it on top of his. Skin meeting skin sent a jolt through her body, and she wanted nothing more than to curl her fingers around his, squeeze his hand tight and confess everything, here and now. She would give up everything, if it meant being with him. “Politics are slow-going. It’s not as if I’ll be meeting with Ser Aymeric day after day, night after night. Things need to be put into motion, to pass through… I will have plenty of time to come back here.”

“But surely he set up accommodations for you in Ishgard?” Haurchefant hadn’t meant for the words to be bitter, but Rhen felt the bite, and pulled her hand away. Desperately, silently, he begged himself to remember the warmth and how it felt.

“Well, yes.” She blinked, confused by his reaction. “But it’s just a free room at the inn, nothing fancy.” Her hand curled around the tin mug again, no longer hot to the touch. “In fact it was your father, Count Edmont, who offered me private chambers in his home.” Her brow lifted, “Are you going to take up issue with that, too?”

“Father did? Well,” he chewed the inside of his cheek for a moment, running the thought through his mind, “no, I don’t have a problem with that, my lady. You will be well taken care of and safe at Fortemps Manor.” And he would know where she was, Halone forbid anything happen. “My apologies. I am merely looking out for you and your safety.”

Rhen’s tongue clicked. “It is fine.” Finishing the rest of her cocoa, she pushed herself up from the bench and moved to the desk, resting the mug on top. “I do believe that was all we had to discuss.” She didn’t turn back to face him, and instead kept staring straight ahead; she didn’t want him to see the tears that were stinging the corners of her eyes.

Haurchefant sighed. “For the time being, yes. It is late, my lady. While I am sure the comforts of House Fortemps are calling, I would feel better if you remained here for the night. That blizzard has surely only gotten worse as the night progressed.” He, too, rose from the bench and made his way to a door off to the side, leaving his mug on the bench, ready to prep a room.

“... Thank you, Lord Haurchefant. That would be greatly appreciated. I’ll take but a moment to contact Alphinaud and let him know.”

✞——————❆——————✞

Haurchefant had the right idea. All through the night, Rhen could hear naught by the wind whipping and whistling around outside, rattling the single-pane glass windows. She was incredibly thankful for the hearth that had been lit in her room as she curled beneath the heavy dodo feather quilt. Still, sleep eluded her. She had been fed - it was a quiet and rather awkward dinner - the room had been set, and Haurchefant had even drawn a hot bath for her to help ease the chill. He even remembered that lavender helped her sleep, and had a sachet of it resting atop her pillow. Perhaps that was why.

The creaking of the door caught Haurchefant's attention, and he spun on his heels. He squinted in the low light, "My lady?" He froze in his spot, unsure if it was just a trick of the wind or if the Warrior of Light was really standing there in the doorframe, in nothing but a silk robe and cloak. "What are you doing out of bed?" He blinked, and remembered stubbing his toe a few minutes prior, "Ah- I hope I did not wake you? I was simply… cleaning up, and managed to catch my foot against the bench." He waved a hand, trying to brush the small lie aside.

Her mind was racing. Something had seemed so… off about Haurchefant tonight. At first, he was his usual eccentric self! It was a relief to see, especially after dealing with the stuffiness of the Holy See. But as their conversation went on, it was as though something happened, and he just changed. The only thing she could pinpoint was when the topic turned to Ser Aymeric, but surely… No, there was no reason why Haurchefant would get so upset over that. Rhen pushed herself up in the bed, pulling her knees to her chest. This. This is what was keeping her from resting.

Down the hall and through the door, Haurchefant remained in the main room, resting on the bench next to the hearth, elbows on his knees and his hands together. Why did he let himself lose control of his emotions like that? It wasn’t like him to get so… irrational. Yet, something about the way she spoke so highly of Aymeric - it was to be expected, of course, he was indeed a generous and kind soul, but… Haurchefant gripped his own hands tighter together. “Gods dammit…!” He cursed, and pushed off the bench again, this time his foot connecting with the heavy wood. He grumbled out - of course this would happen after he had changed into more casual, comfortable clothes. He bit his lip, trying not to make too much noise.

A moment passed, and he opted to pace about in a circle, keeping close to the hearth. He didn’t know what to do and for the first time in a long time, Haurchefant wasn’t feeling like himself. On one hand, he was so incredibly honoured and proud to be a friend to Rhen, the illustrious and sought-after white mage. His chest swelled when he spoke of her, or heard others speak her name and of her glorious deeds! But on the other hand he felt almost selfish, like he wanted to keep her all to himself, run away together where nobody could find them. Alas, he knew that would be impossible. She had her duties, as he had his own and it wouldn’t be in either of their characters to just leave that all behind. Not after they had both spent so long and worked so hard to get to where they were. They both had people who relied on them. He sighed, “... as I rely on her.” His words were whispered into the darkened room, hushed and barely audible.

“I need to talk to him.” Rhen spoke aloud, to herself. She needed to be clear of any doubts, any worries. Even if it meant losing him, Rhen needed to tell him everything that was on her mind, everything she felt, and ask him what happened, why he was acting that way earlier in the night. She threw the covers to the side and slipped out of the large bed. Her feet touched the cold stone, and her toes curled, but she pushed through how much it bit into her skin. She grabbed her cloak and tossed it over her shoulders before leaving her room. “I wonder…” She wandered down the hall, first stopping at Haurchefant’s private chambers. Before knocking, she pressed an ear to the door, listening for any sort of noise. Nothing, not even the crackling of a fire. She knocked regardless and pushed open the door, peeking through the small crack. “... Haurchefant?” She whispered into the darkness, but could see nothing. There was no response, no ruffling of sheets or soft sleepy grunts. There wasn’t even a shadowy lump on the bed to mark his presence.

She sighed and moved on from his room, sure to close the door as she left. Where could he be? Surely, he wasn’t called out for some sort of nightwatch? In the middle of this storm? She frowned; if he had, there would be words in the morning. The viera continued to tiptoe her way down the hall, peeking through various doors until she came to the end of the hall. The next door would lead to the main room. Suddenly, she found herself nervous; she didn’t know what she wanted to find on the other side. If he was there, would she be able to go through with this? Rhen bit her lip and opened the door without anymore second thoughts. If she was going to do it, she just had to do it.

"No, I just couldn't sleep." She stepped into the room, arms crossing over her stomach, to keep herself from shivering but also as a way to keep herself grounded. Her head turned slightly to the left, using her one good eye to peer and squint into the slowly darkening room. "... Is your foot alright? Do I need to heal-"

"No, no, thank you. Nothing is broken or bleeding, and I've handled much worse." He chuckled lightly, and for a moment all the tension between them was lifted. They both felt as though they could breathe easy again, but when the room got quiet and neither of them spoke, everything built up from the evening returned. It was thick, and nauseating. "But, you must needs get back to your room where it is warm! You'll end up sickly if you stay out here, threadbare and in the cold. I would hate to be the one responsible for the delay in Eorzea's saving!"

But as he moved closer to usher her back to her room, the moaning wind outside picked up whipping the door wide open. The pair of them lifted their arms to cover their faces, both letting out a sharp gasp as the penetrating cold hit them. "S-stay there, I'll get this." The blizzard was strong, blowing in the snow that had accumulated in front of the door inside in drifts, small pellets of ice mixing into the mess. But Rhen hadn't listened, and was already ahead of Haurchefant, bare feet leaving tiny footprints in the snow in her wake. He clicked his tongue but didn't dare try to argue. Instead, he moved at her pace and they reached the door together, using their combined strength to fight against the wind and push the door shut, latching it and keeping it barred shut with a thick plank of wood.

Rhen could feel her feet burning from the snow, and her lungs felt as though they were on fire. It took her a moment to come down from the slight rush and jump away from the snow, moving back toward the hearth, which the fire within nearly died completely and was now just a burning pile of embers. "That… wasn't my most prudent decision."

Haurchefant watched her, a sympathetic smile on his lips. He considered Rhen his charge, and even if his developing feelings drove him to overreact or overthink, her and her safety was his first priority, above all else. "I shall take you back to your room." It was a statement, and he wasn't going to give her much room to say no, as he was by her side in an instant and picked her up bridal style, the long train of her cloak and robe tangling together and draping over his arm.

He did as he was instructed, though hesitated for a split second, and sank slowly onto the bed next to her. He wasn't sure what to do with himself; his feet were planted firmly on the floor in case he needed to spring back up, but his torso was twisted slightly. His arms he kept low, hands resting on the tops of his knees, fingers drumming against them. "Rhen? Is everything alright?"

She made to protest, but found herself unwilling. So she let him scoop her up without a word, and rested her head on his shoulder, arms wrapping around him. If she could have just this moment and nothing else, she would be satisfied. "Don't feel like you need to rush." She murmured, unsure if he'd even hear her, but when she felt his pace slow she smiled.

“What were you doing wandering about so late?” They had made it back to her room, and Haurchefant was letting her down on the bed. He reached around her and pulled the cloak from her shoulders to hang it back up. “I can’t imagine such a strong, world-saving viera like yourself would be kept up from some howling wind and a bit of cold?” His head turned slightly, stealing a glance at her from over his shoulder.

Rhen sighed; she knew this would come up. There was a fleeting moment where she thought that maybe, just maybe, she wouldn’t have to bring it up, that she could just forget that she was going to open her heart entirely to him and just leave things how they were. But then, how long would she be able to keep it up? There was always the chance that it would be too late, and she knew it would be something she'd regret her entire life. "Come, sit beside me." She motioned to the bed and shifted, pulling one leg up to lay it flat against the mattress, turning so she would be able to face him directly.

"Do you care about me?"

Haurchefant's expression twisted, a mix of confusion and surprise. "Of course I do! You're my dearest friend! What would possess you to think I don’t?"

"Haurchefant, you aren’t listening. Do you care about me?” Rhen leaned forward, taking his hands in hers. Her eyes were wide, brows turned upward as she waited for him to understand, to respond.

The elezen was silent as he processed the question, his eyes staring down into hers, searching the mismatched grey hues. He felt her thumb drag along the top of his hand, and he blinked. “Wait, you don’t mean…”

Rhen inhaled deeply, and nodded. “I do. Haurchefant, I… That is to say--” She was stumbling over her words, finding it hard to concentrate over the pounding in her chest. She chewed her lip for a moment before continuing, “When we first met, you were kind and your words were… Well, a bit much if I’m being honest. But, they were flattering all the same, and it was refreshing to hear.” She saw his lips part as he went to speak, but she shook her head, wanting to finish before he said anything. “Over time, I found myself thinking of you more often, how I wished you could be on this journey with me - physically, with me, about how I couldn’t wait to come back to see you here… and I found myself starting to wonder if the words you said, all the compliments… If you truly meant them.” She could feel her cheeks growing hot by the second, and she dropped her gaze, opting to look at their hands.

“Rhen…” Haurchefant tilted his head to the side slightly, still watching her intently. He licked his lips and lifted a hand to her face, stroking her cheek with the backs of his fingers before cupping her chin to tilt her head back up. “Halone, forgive me for taking so long.” He whispered before closing the gap between them, pressing his lips to hers. It wasn’t forced, or rough but gentle, and what one would expect from someone like Haurchefant. He could feel her body tense for just a moment and was about to pull away when he felt her melt into his touch, her hand squeezing his, fingers curling together. He didn’t want this feeling to end.

For months he had been thinking of her nonstop. Since the moment he first laid eyes upon her, he knew she was special - and not just because of her deeds, her title. Just, her. She was plaguing his thoughts, not that he was complaining. At night, he dreamt of her, of moments like these and moments that would make brothel workers blush. Anytime the doors opened to his office, he would snap his head up in the hopes of seeing her walk through. There wasn’t a time he wasn’t worrying about her, and her safety. The relief and butterflies he would feel when he did see her were beyond compare, and unlike anything he could describe.

And right now, in this moment, he didn’t need to speak a word of that; she knew. All it took was that one kiss, which neither wanted to stop. Rhen’s arms lifted and draped over his shoulders, bending so her hands could comb through his hair. He complied, and leaned forward slightly, his own arms moving in to grab her from the waist and lift her slightly and pulled her into his lap; he could feel her smiling against his lips. The kiss deepened as Haurchefant dared to pry his tongue against her lips, begging entrance. She complied and their tongues met. His fingers dug into her skin slightly, and a shiver ran down Rhen’s back. “You have no idea how I’ve longed for this moment.”

✞——————❆——————✞

Daybreak. The sun was streaming through the single-paned glass window, flits of dust drifting lazily about. The fire in the hearth had long since died, no longer even smoldering. Rhen stirred, the sheets rustling slightly. Slowly and sleepily she blinked and pushed herself up onto her elbows. It took her a moment to gain her bearings before she looked around at the room; right. She remained at Camp Dragonhead because of the blizzard. That would also mean…

“Lay back down.” Haurchefant’s voice was muffled, his face buried into the pillow. He was peeking up at her with one eye, the corner of his mouth visible and turned up in a soft smile. He lazily lifted an arm and curled it around Rhen, dragging her back down to the bed. “Mmm… splendid.”

She giggled and wiggled about slightly, getting into a comfortable position, turning just enough so they were facing each other. She buried her face into the crook of his neck, leaving a trail of kisses down from his jaw. “Good morning.” Her arm draped over his side, fingers tracing gentle and soft lines up and down his back. So it hadn’t been a dream… good. She smiled and let out a content hum.

“And a good morning, it is!” Haurchefant stirred a bit, allowing Rhen to get comfortable before wrapping his arm back around her, holding her close. He was basking in this feeling, in this moment. “I trust you slept well?” His lips pressed to her forehead in a tender kiss. His legs, as well, shifted slightly so as to entangle their bodies even more. He wanted to feel as one with her, and he wanted to stay just like this forever.

Rhen nodded, “And you?”

“Best I’ve slept in ages.” Another kiss to her forehead.

“Haurchefant?” She paused for a moment, and he grunted in response, “What does this mean for us?”

He pulled back slightly so he could get a better look at her face. His expression was gentle and soft, the sweetest and most sincere smile pulling at his lips. “Well, if you would rather keep this a secret and never speak of it again, I would understand. I would be terribly heartbroken, I won’t lie.” He chuckled, and pressed a finger to her lips when he saw she was about to speak. “But,” his expression changed slightly, still sweet but a little more serious. Blue eyes shone in the sunlight. “Rhen Hrafna. Would you grant me the highest honour of staying with me, by my side, as not only my dearest and most cherished friend, but as my partner?” The arm that was around her moved, hand grabbing hers and pulling it up to his lips, “Say you’ll be mine.” He kissed her fingers, each one individually, and so delicately.

“Haurchefant Greystone.” She was beaming, her cheeks red and warm, “I am the one who will be honoured to call you my partner. Forever, and always.” She could feel the tears begin to prick the corners of her eyes, but this time they were of joy. Of a sweet relief, feeling all the weight finally lift from her shoulders. “I am yours, and I always will be.”

“Those words… They are music to my ears. You’ve made me the happiest man alive on this day, you know!” Haurchefant laughed, and it was like a chorus. It was joyful, radiant, filled with love and life. He pulled her in close once more, tightening his grasp around her in an embrace. “This feeling… this excitement. Ahhh, it’s splendid!” Haurchefant took a deep breath and let out a long, happy sigh. His other hand, burdened by being under Rhen’s frame, moved slightly to absently stroke her hair.

“That’s a bold claim, my Lord.” She teased, and the pair chuckled. “But I’m glad. Truly, I couldn’t be happier!” Her hand pressed against the middle of his back. “Long have I waited to hear you say those words, and to hold me just like this.”

“As have I, Rhen. I have dreamt of moments just like these. You’ve never once left my thoughts.”

“I guess that means we’ll be staying in bed a bit longer then?”

He hummed in response, “Please… just a bit longer.” He kissed her again, softly.

“Anything for you.”

#mine #final fantasy xiv #haurchefant greystone #rhen hrafna #ff14 fanfic #haurchefant x wol

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