#But I this case I was enamored by his laugh god bless

[huldrabitch]

I love seeing straight men take one look at Joe Santagato like hes their personal Ryan Reynolds and go insane.. Like yeah me too

[yourantag]

Of Vices and Virtues (Morningstar!Ithaqua×Reader)

AN: In which I go insane and finally succumb to the urge to write an unhealthy relationship instead of a nice, safe, and sane one. Also, to the people who were waiting for this fic, I am so sorry for the wait. I kept on forgetting it existed and also kept doubting myself since this is pretty different from what I usually do. Hope you enjoy it, even if it isn't the best! Word count: 2.7k words TW: Blood, violence, general insanity, and unhealthy relationships. Summary: You've always seen things others couldn't. When you met him, you were enamored by his unique nature. Perhaps you should have taken it as a warning. Perhaps, you should have ran. Instead, you drew closer.

It all started years ago when things were simpler. You were a child, and so was he. He was someone who bore the face of the future king, the Lord of Babel, the sun of the kingdom. You? You were just a simple peasant. No one noteworthy, not in appearance, personality, or skill. How could you be? You were a child.

Yet, when your paths crossed, it immediately changed you two. Your futures, your destinies which never should have merged, crashed together. The moment your eyes met his, it was over. You could never be normal again. After all, how could a mortal stay sane in the presence of a God?

He was your beginning, and surely he would be your end.

-

The lady who lived in the forest was odd, but kind. She would give you and your family medicine, never asking for anything in return. You didn't think that was very fair, so you gave her flowers. The prettiest ones you could find in the wild, hidden within the crevices of gnarled roots and heavy bushes.

You liked her quite well, which your parents found surprising. You never seemed to like most adults. They all brushed it off as shyness, laughing heartily as you scampered away.

It wasn't quite that, though.

The way you gazed at people with distrust was never on unfounded grounds. Children, for however random and silly adults believe them to be, are far too perceptive for their own goods.

You've always seen things others couldn't see. You knew not to tell, especially when the curling shadows at those peoples feet hissed and snarled silently. It was a warning, seething quietly around the liars with masks. You learned quickly that they were not people to be trusted.

The problem was, most adults held such secrets with them. Their perfect disguises of the kind neighbor and good samaritan were nothing before your eyes. Their performances of being righteous and pure sickened you. It churned your guts and set alight a blaze of fury inside you that you didn't understand.

You couldn't stand it, so you chose to run.

Thankfully, with her, it was never like that. She had the aura of what you think angels would have. It was warm, gentle, and bright, like a bonfire on a cold winter night. It made you feel comfortable, it made you feel safe. Honestly, you sometimes wished she were your mother so you could bask in her presence forever.

Of course, that is not the case, and you like your parents well. They had no roaring shadows, just a light brush of soothing sunlight. It was sweet and inoffensive, just a whisper of heat and kind words. That, too, you appreciated.

It was why you listened to them well, doing your best to be a good child for them. When they asked you for help, you were always up to the challenge. You'd smile brightly, determination glistening within your eyes and your heart set on fulfilling your mission.

Today was one such day, leading you to a cottage in the woods. Your parents requested that you gave the lady of the forest a package. The task felt more like a blessing than a burden. You got to help your parents and see one of your favorite people in the world! How could you not be happy?

Standing before the worn alder door, you carefully shift your bag as you knock. You rock back and forth, humming cheerfully as you wait for her to answer. The sounds of shuffling footsteps can be heard behind the door, making you smile.

When it opens, your smile slips as you stare blankly. Before your eyes stands not your favorite person in the world, but a child. He has wispy, light blond hair, so light it's white. His eyes are like charcoal, both dark and burning as he stares holes into you. It's half a glare and half a stare, more of a glare, really.

For a few moments, you're stunned. Not really at the fact that the lady had a child you never knew, but at the darkness and light that surround him in equal parts.

Children never had such prominent representations of good or evil on them, having been born with a neutral conscience. They were surrounded by barely flickering echoes of right and wrong, never quite lasting.

Yet, here he was, a child with both virtue and vice wrapped tightly around him. It intrigues you, beckoning you forward like a siren's call.

Before you know it, you've taken his face in your hands and tilted it to look closer. At what, you're not quite sure. All you do is drink in his features like a man starved, staring at him with such intensity you'd feel embarrassed if you were clear headed.

You expect him to fight back once you realize what you've done, but all he does is stare back with equal intensity, challenging you. It makes you smile, an odd feeling of pride and a desire to crush that will of his coming from the depths of your heart. It makes you pause in surprise, letting go of his face and stepping back.

"I'm sorry." You say, fiddling with the straps of your bag as you look away. It was rather unlike you to act this way, or to have such a violent thought. You shook your head to clear them of such things.

"Why are you here?" He asks harshly, ignoring your apology. You accept that considering you were quite rude to him.

"I'm here to deliver a package to the nice lady. Is she home?" You look over his shoulder for any hint of her. He blocks your view, his glare intensifying. He looks like he's about to say no when a familiar voice cuts him off.

"Ah! You shouldn't be here!"

You can't tell if she's referring to you or him. In a few minutes, she's taken you inside the house and given you snacks. The boy pouts as the lady of the forest scolds him, warning him not to open the door to strangers.

You chew on a cookie as you continue to stare at the warped shapes of his soul shift around him. It's warmer now, brighter. It's sentient and alive, happily glowing in the presence of the nice lady. You can't blame him, you like her a lot too.

At the same time, you can't help but wonder what it'll take for his shadows to devour the light.

You calmly give the lady the package and thank her for the snacks, brushing crumbs off your hands. She pats you, causing you to smile as you relish in the gentle touch. She tells you to come again, to play with her son. You don't think he'd like to, but you're willing to try.

With a wave and a smile, you're off. You ignore the no longer hostile stare that follows you out.

-

Seeing as you're no liar, you meet him again. You keep your promise to visit, and thus a tender friendship begins. The boy is surprisingly nice at times. He's simultaneously so ordinary, yet unusual.

He smiles when you trip, but he always helps you up. He hides your things, but always ends up telling you where they are. He says rather mean things, but his actions never match his words.

He's weird, but you like him. Unlike the others your age, he's quite interesting. The shared soft spot you both have for his mother certainly helps, and before you know it, you're friends.

"Why don't you ever leave the forest?" You ask one day, pulling weeds out of the garden. His mother's garden was in need of some help, so you decided to work on it with the boy. He diligently works, even though he hates the sunlight.

"Mother says I shouldn't be seen by others. You're okay, though." You accept the answer easily. You figured that was the case, anyway.

After the official debut of the future king, a prince around your age, you realized a lot more things than you thought you would. You're sure his mother knows you know, but neither of you mention it. For you, it's none of your business. For her, it's a secret she must take to her grave.

You're quite good at keeping secrets. You're sure she knows that, too. You also know her secrets will one day consume her whole, however. They always do.

You wonder how he'll react that day.

-

Ever since you met the lady of the forest, red became your favorite color. It's the color of her hair, of the ladybugs in her garden, and of the tiles on your house's roof. It's a sweet color, one of pure and good memories.

That changes the day you turn of age.

You watch in horror as she's brought before a cheering crowd, a spectacle for people to watch. He's next to you, his face covered and a cloak hiding his hair. His eyes shake as he stares at the cruel stage, the start of a scene he'd never want to see showing right before his eyes.

Her chains jingle like cruel church bells, hair a tangled mess as she's dragged across the crude boards of the stage. Splinters stab at her feet, fresh wounds and old ones bleeding red as she's roughly slammed into a wooden contraption. She gasps in pain as they lock it in place, the final Wham! of the wood marking the end of her judgment.

You both look on in stunned shock as the blade whistles down at the call of a man- a man who shares the same face as him. Time seems to slow as her eyes meet yours, silently, desperately, asking for help. Help you cannot give. Help you wish you could give.

Your heart screams as it is forced to face how powerless you are. It squeezes and squeezes as if someone were clutching it in their hand, hoping to inflict as much pain on you as possible while you are hopelessly, miserably left alive despite it.

The man's shadow laughs as the guillotine cuts off her life, destroying the warmth of her soul and putting it out. Like a lit candle in the wind, she's extinguished. She's gone.

The once comforting red of her hair is tainted by the ruthless sight of her blood painting the stage.

You vaguely think you hear something shatter, perhaps something inside of you or somewhere around you. You turn to look at him, your hands trembling, when you see it.

It seems to destroy light itself, yet hold it all the same. A black hole that displaces the refraction of light, like darkness that shines bright, it breaks free from the chains of what is perhaps the last of his humanity.

Perhaps it's the last of his sanity.

Glancing down at your own shadow, you laugh quietly as tears slip down your face. It's carried away by the cheers of the crowd and the deafening applause, going unheard. An unnatural smile stretches your face as you turn your head up to the sky.

If his darkness has light, your light holds darkness. With it, you'd both destroy everything that dared make you this way.

-

"I'll kill them, I'll kill them, I'll kill them." He's trembling in your arms, his body barely able to contain all his emotions. His rage, his sorrow, his pain, his tears, everything, it seems to pour out of him. You can only rub your hand comfortingly in circles on his back, eyes blank as you stare lifelessly at the wall.

He was suppressing himself as his feelings lashed out. You, however, were eerily empty.

You felt nothing, yet everything. It was like all your emotions had been tossed away, as though they'd never been there before. In its place, a cold, cruel rationality took over your mind. It plotted, it schemed, and it had only one goal.

To destroy.

"You will." You tell him. "We will."

It's a promise, and you don't break promises.

-

The sound of rumbling stones greets you in a familiar cacophony of noise. You revel in it, watching the statue's face fall and crumble. He stands before you now, so different from the sweet boy he was back then. That's partially your fault, admittedly.

You held him that day, when the world had fallen apart. You'd promised him justice, you promised him peace. You promised him the world and everything in it, because that was what he deserved. He deserved it so he could ruin it, since really, did anything matter anymore? When she was gone, she died, you'd never see her alive, you couldn't understand why-

You sighed, shivering as a cold breeze blew through the area. It doesn't matter now. You'd found your peace. You'd gotten your revenge.

Turning your gaze to the figure before the desecrated statue, you smile widely. He does the same, spreading out his arms as he laughs maniacally. He, too, had gained his vengeance.

"The tower shall fall, and new lies will be treated as the word of god. The morning star is the true king!" He sweeps the air in front of him, hand outstretched to you. You step forward, placing a hand in his. His grin seems to grow wider at that, his grip becoming more firm as he pulls you into his arms.

"And you, my evening dawn, will stand by my side. We'll rule the greedy, the disloyal, and the unworthy. The dogs in crowns will remain at our feet, and it will not matter who stands before us." He laughs as he bites your neck, hard enough to draw blood. You only laugh in return, the pain as sweet as the taste of power.

His hair, now pure white like the feathers on a dove, glows in the brilliant light of the sun. His eyes, once a beautifully deep onyx, are like translucent opal. The red you once grew to hate, tainted by blood, is made again your favorite color. It drapes him from head to toe in majesty, deeming him a true god amongst men.

He pulls you up into a kiss, his lips tasting of your blood and dust. The taste of your own blood upon your tongue makes you laugh. Anything is sweet when it comes from him, from his lips, even the underlying tastes of iron and danger, the possessive curling of his claws.

When you finally draw away from each other, your faces are flushed. You both pant lightly, giggling like school children as you hold each other close. His hold speaks of love, of desire, of a feeling so encapsulating, so damning, he'd rather kill you than let you leave his side.

His shadow says so much more.

It curls around your own, protecting it, stealing it, tugging and holding it like it wants to merge with yours. The darkness tries to devour your light, but it's only a pointless cycle where one cannot destroy the other. They're two sides of the same coin, cultivated into a writhing mass of what you're sure anyone else would claim to be insanity.

You hum in joy, resting your forehead against his chest. He needs you as desperately as you need him. He'll never leave you, and you could never leave him. No one could ever take you away from each other.

"You're all I have." He tenderly murmurs, dragging a claw down your spine. You shiver as you look up at him, smiling. "And I am all you have."

"I love you. Only two things will ever have me, and it'll be you and death." You respond, meaning every word. He knows as well as you do that you mean it, and he rewards you with another kiss. It's sweeter than the last, an addicting pull that makes you yearn for more. More and more and more, until you suffocate.

You'll treasure him for the rest of your life. He's your precious partner, isn't he? You should hold him close and treat him right. Isn't that what they taught you?

You smile, something akin to a nightmare, as you turn. He stands by your side as you saunter over to the gilded cage, the traitors shaking within.

"What do you think, mother, father?"

He was your beginning, and he will be your end.

.

.

.

Tag List

@ithaquakisser, @xiaosmary

[amoristt]

Grazing the Fire | IV

well hello. here i am, four years later, once again enamored with nathan enough to finally dust this baby off and pick up where i left it. im a little rusty so bear with me this chapter! much more to come <3

reblogs + tags and replies will make my entire day as i put a lot of effort into this :)! it also helps motivate me!

story continues beneath the read more. let me know if you can’t access it!

Warning: language, very vague s/a mentions

want to support me? heres my kofi!

__________________________

“Alright class, who can tell me,” A board stick clacks against the chalkboard. “Who can answer problem four?” 

A few hands raise in the corners of your eye, but yours remains atop your desk. Eyes far away, mind in a murky haze and almost completely unaware. All you could focus on were the memories playing on repeat within the confines of your tired, tired brain. Hours ago, you were warm, you were comfortable. Safe.

Cheeks heated to a dusting blush when you remind yourself just how you had awoken that morning. At some point in the night, an angel had blessed you. Allowed you to wake up wrapped around none other than big, bad, Nathan Prescott. Your face nuzzled into his chest, broad but wiry hands pressed firmly over your shoulder and his arm slung over your waist to keep you against him. Thankfully you had been the first to wake up, blinking away the morning sun blazing through his blinds and painting the room stripes of gold. At that moment, before your headache came crashing down onto your skull, you were astounded by him. 

Eye lashes brushing the top of his cheeks, his lips parted ever so slightly, chest rising and falling rhythmically. In that moment, there was no anger, no bitterness. Just a soft and peaceful slumber. It was like being the sole viewer of a magnificent painting- each stroke and detail placed just there just for you to pick out, to remember the curves and sharp edges down to the very foundation. From his unkempt hair down to the way his hand flattened onto the mattress where your indent still lived. Nathan was so beautiful like this. 

For a long time you stayed there. It was as though you were afraid to move- you couldn’t bear to disturb him. You had wondered, if he was always like this, so at peace, what would he be like? Likely soft voiced, mild mannered. He’d do his school assignments without hassle and donate to the charity board. He would wander the town with his friends and listen to music in a beat up truck flying down the stretch of highway overlooking the bold, blue, and beautiful ocean. An entirely different version of himself- carefree, and a fair blue as opposed to a burning flame of red. 

But, if that were the case, you’d never have gotten here. You’d never been both the outsider, and the only seeing eye. A lucky, albeit firstly unwilling witness to the display of depth before you. 

It never hit you like it had quite in that moment how lucky you were.

But- just then- an alarm disturbed what serendipity existed. You nearly leapt out of your skin, clutched your hands to your chest at the sudden sound. A headache wove its way into your once untouched temples. Nathan groaned, mumbled, ‘god damn it’, under his breath, and thus his body was reanimated into life. He rubbed his eyes and he stretched, that familiar scowl coming over his eyes and lips as he took in the sunlight damn near blinding him. A polar opposite to the being you’d appreciated just moments earlier.

“Ugh, fuck, how the fuck is it seven already.” He groaned. “I feel like shit.”

“Well good morning to you too,” You started, welcoming Nathan into the world. “‘I’m feeling pretty shitty as well.” 

You said that, but really… You were more than alright. Your head had hurt, slight nausea crept into the wells of your stomach, but other than that you’re sure you were phenomenally better than you’d have been waking up whereverTate would have left your ass.

“You need to get outta here, before everyone gets up.” Nathan drawled, but he didn’t sound as urgent as you expected him to be. You’d expected him to be angry that you were still in his room, but instead he just… accepted it. 

You snickered, climbing out of his throne of a bed. “Wow, you’re giving me the morning after treatment?” 

“Sure am. Get outta here, whore.”

“Oh fuck you.” 

You located your heels from last night, resting upright near his dorm room door. Heels didn’t sound like the most  practical to sneak out of a dorm with, so you instead opted to grappling them by the straps and carrying them at your side. Hair a mess, outfit riddled with wrinkles and makeup smudged under your eyes, you stood before Nathan in all your glory. He stared at you for a long, odd moment- and you for some reason felt exposed, or even, shy. 

“What?” You ask expectantly, placing a hand on your hip. 

His eyes trail to your line of vision. He shakes his head. “Just thinking about how now you really do look like my morning after.”

“Yeah?” You hummed. “Find it hard to believe you get a lot of those.”

Nathan shoots you a suggestive glance. “You’d be surprised. Everyone wants a piece of Prescott.”

Surely, he was joking, or maybe he wasn’t, but you… Didn’t like hearing that. It made your stomach feel odd, uncomfortably heavy.  As he stood up, reminding you how many inches he had over your size, you swallowed and cleared your throat to flush out that crappy feeling. “Well,” you started, mood having dropped. “I’m gonna go, then.” 

“What got your panties in a twist all the sudden?” He asked, raising a brow and pulling some clothes from his closet, tossing them onto the bed.

The bed you two had shared.

You hated the idea of his morning afters- whoever they may be. 

“Not feeling great. Probably a side effect of the roofies.” You mumbled.

Nathan breathed a laugh. “Probably.”

He seemed so calm, right now. Perhaps due to it being so early, before the outside world had a chance to remind him just why he was so uptight all the tight. Before he needed to be so uptight all the time. He really did have so many versions of himself- all of whom you were slowly becoming familiar with. Compared to the person you’d believed him to be before your run ins, you’d never have assumed someone so dangerous could be so soft as last night, as this morning. In the beginning, you’d feared him. Avoided him like a plague, or a wild animal. Even when you were enraptured in the existence of him, you still wanted to keep away. You’d never have believed someone like you could wake up clutched to his chest, as though he were afraid if he released you, you’d be gone long before he woke. 

Then, a sudden thought struck your mind. 

He’d held you so tight. He’d welcomed you in the morning. No anger, no annoyance. His soft laugh at your banter and taunts. How your heels were standing upright instead of tossed haphazardly into some random corner, where he’d watch your struggle to find. 

How he’d stayed awake to ensure your sleep.

“So are you just gonna stand there?” Nathan called you back to reality, hands gripping the hems of his shirt. “I gotta get ready and you need to wash up so you don’t look like a five dollar stripper.” Cruel words, but with absolutely no bite. You rolled your eyes.

“Yeah. But, hey,” You started. “Thank you for last night.” 

“Yeah, yeah. You gotta start learning to watch your own back.” He says. “There’s gonna be times I won’t be there to drag your ass out of the fire.”

If you’d been charged, if you’d been stricken with a strange defensiveness, you’d have retorted, ‘than stop helping me’, but… Instead you allowed yourself the comfort of protection. You allowed Nathan Prescott to watch you.  

“I know,” You reached for the door. “Thank you.”

With that, you bounded out of the dorm silent as a mouse. 

-----------

In hindsight, you should have left earlier. Class was merely 15 minutes away when you slipped out of Nathan's room and bounded towards the women's dorm. Albeit not exactly a long walk, by the time you discreetly snuck back into your own dorm, you had roughly twenty minutes to somehow pick an outfit from your countless unopened boxes and make yourself even slightly presentable. 

Wiping off whatever make-up you could get and reapplying it, brushing out the tangles of your hair and nearly tearing off your scalp in the process, scattering your nightclothes over your floor and managing to scrounge out a semi-decent outfit for the day… You still looked a mess. If the mirror could laugh, it would have. Black mascara smudges under your eyes and frizzy untreated hair. What a lovely look. 

You’d made it to class just five minutes late, but those five minutes were all it took for all eyes to be on you as you tried to slide into the classroom unnoticed. A couple classmates whispered to their table mates as you passed by, smelling of oversaturated cherry blossom perfume to hopefully cover the scent of alcohol. You sauntered to your seat and sank down with all your weight, suddenly exhausted. You’d made it with just five minutes tainting your record of attendance. The teacher greeted you with a disappointed sigh, and thus, the day began. 

But, it was so hard to focus. All you could think about was Nathan. 

“Alright class, who can tell me,” A board stick clacks against the chalkboard. “Who can answer problem four?” 

You lowered your head. 

“Ah, how about, ___?”

You snaked back into reality, blinking up at the chalk board that was somehow already riddled with math equations. Since you hadn’t been paying attention even in the slightest, your mouth gaped wide open, eyes scanning for something you understood even slightly so you didn’t look like a total idiot. 

Sadly, you were out of luck. The teacher shook his head. “I’m shocked,” He said. “You're normally so on top of things. Oh well.”

“Oh, I’m sure she was on top of things,” A female voice sniggered behind you “Last night.”

Your face flushed a red, hot, ruby. What the hell was she talking about? How had they found out you were with Nathan? You were so sure of being sneaky, there was no way-

“Her and Tate totally got it on last night.”

You whipped around in your seat, facing girls who looked to be clones of some sort. Both with the same dark eyes, short brown hair, and freckles. “What?”

“Alright-” Your teacher blurted. “That's enough. April, May, enough. Let’s not discuss things outside of the classroom.”

The two girls batted their eyes. “Sorry sir.” One spoke, twirling a hand through her hair. Her sister's wide toothy grin never fumbled. 

“Back to it then. Kate, can you help out __ with number four?” 

The small, blonde girl nodded quickly, brushing a lock of hair behind her eyes and offering an empathic nod. 

As you turned around in your seat, her answer fell on deaf ears. Your heart was racing in your chest, hands balled into fists while you stared ahead blankly.  

They couldn’t seriously think that you chose to leave with Tate, could they? Surely someone must have seen the state you were in. Someone other than Nathan.

The clock ticks forward but time feels like it's passing almost unnaturally slow. With just 10 minutes left, you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket.

‘Nathan: consider ur favor officially returned 

Your tongue poked from your lips, the tiniest of smiles taking over your once sullen features. Terrible thoughts and worries flew out the window while you type back, ‘damn. here i was gonna to ask you to do a backflip off the roof with me. there goes my plans.’

Nathan types for a moment. Typing, stopping, typing again. 

‘Nathan: soundz like a blast. where and when?’

A small blush heats your cheeks. ‘very funny. thanks to last night i have an entire 24 hour session of studying to catch up with.’

His response is almost instant. ‘Nathan: boringgg. txt me when ur fun.’

Rolling your eyes, you shove your phone back into your pocket. It seems you’ve been able to secure enough of a friendship with him for some mindless banter even outside your little visits. You smile. He’s… Fun to talk to. Surprisingly. 

Class comes to an end and you start to pack up the books and papers you’d hardly even glanced at the whole period. Whatever had been upsetting you before is lost in your mind while you think of the morning, the night before. All the things in-between. But, your happiness doesn’t last long. As you get up, you’re almost forced right back into your seat as a weight shoves into your shoulder. Your books scatter to the floor. April, the one who’d remarked about you earlier, glares at you in what looks to be disgust. 

“Careful April,” Her sister hums as she saunters past you, keeping distance and raising her already shrill tone of voice. “Might wanna watch where you’re walking- I’d hate for you to catch something from this slut.”

You absolutely gawk at her. “What the fuck did you just say to me?”

April scoffs. “Oh come on, like everyone doesn’t know what you were up to last night.”

“Sleeping around isn’t a good color on you.” May hikes her bag over her shoulder and snickers at you. They both leave the class together, sickeningly in sync. You’re left stunned where you stand, unsure how the hell your life came to this so quickly. How you’ve stooped so low that the daughters of the world's most uncreative parents are able to bully you based on something that didn’t even happen.

Next class goes no better. The person to your right, a jockey looking brunette guy, asks, ‘have you ever heard of a Tate?’. You say no, that that’s the dumbest name you’ve ever heard. The idiot grins and goes back to marking down likely wrong answers on his test sheet and you debate kicking the leg of his chair out- but you don’t to avoid even more eyes on you. It makes you sick to your stomach- even more than recovering from the roofies does. How can everyone believe it? You barely even knew the guy and you were clearly uncomfortable with his advances. No one saw that? 

After everything you’d worked for to build a reputation, trying so hard to not call out peoples shit for the sake of seeming friendly, tainted over something that didn’t even happen? And the kicker was that it hadn’t even been your fault! He’d drugged you, he’d have taken advantage of you! Yet you were the bad person? 

Class came and went in the blink of an eye this time. Your mind wrapped up in the situation, your stomach churning. You wanted the day to be over with but you still had 4 more classes to suffer through. Why was this happening to you? Was Tate being treated just as horribly, or was he getting pats on the backs of his unaware friends?

Wandering down the halls to your locker, you noticed Lance and Kaz hanging around one of the drinking fountains. Your nerves quelled- your friends would surely make you feel much better. Especially since they had witnessed how awful you were feeling as you left. You approach with a relieved smile, ready to say your truth and finally have someone on your side.

“Hey guys.” You smile, but Lance looks down at his feet while Kaz places her hands to his hips. Your smile fades.

“You could have told us you were gonna spend the night with Tate,” Kaz snaps. “You didn’t need to lie like that just to leave. We were all worried about you and it was for nothing.”

“What?” You feel like you could cry. “No, Kaz, I really did try to leave. Tate tried to drug me and take me home, and-”

“He wouldn’t do that.” Lance interrupts, with a frown. He looks back down at the floor with knitted brows. “I’ve known Tate since before time. He wouldn't do something like that, especially not to one of my best friends. Plus he told me he was really into you. Why would he even try?”

“Are you serious?” You sputter. “You think I’d lie about something like that?”

“You’ve been lying about all sorts of things!” Kaz huffs. “What’s going on with you lately? You’ve been so distant, and secretive. What are you hiding that’s making you lie like this? We’re supposed to be your friends and then you lie to our faces just to go and fuck the first guy that shows you attention.”

“What…?” It was like acid. It was like the rug had been pulled from your feet sending you spiraling down the unending cliff. Kaz, your best friend, all that venom. How could they turn against you like this? What the hell is going on? You felt your throat tighten. “Look, I’m sorry if I’ve been distant, but I’m not lying to you, I-”

“We gotta go.” Lance isn’t in the mood to hear it. “We’ll catch up to you.. Some other time.”

Kaz says nothing as she pushes past you. Lance, at least, spares a short glance over his shoulder. You stood there alone in the hallway, your bag falling off your shoulder and clattering onto the floor with a thud echoing off the walls. Everything you had, all gone at once. 

No one believed you.

---------

With nowhere to go where you felt like you could truly allow yourself to process the day's events, you went to the only place you knew. 

Just outside of campus, where rocks lined the edge of the boundary, overlooking the outskirts of the town and the ocean stretching as far as the eye could see. You settled yourself there, staring at the vast waters and wondering how this had all happened. Unlucky didn’t even begin to cover how it felt. Not only did you feel violated with Tate attempting to do unthinkable things with your unconscious body, but you also felt alone, and walked on. Your best friends hadn’t believed you. While Lance seemed saddened, Kaz was so… Angry. Her words cut like knives into your skin. 

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair. You didn’t deserve this.

You want to talk to Nathan, but knowing him, he’d see your state and bounce instantly. After all, this isn’t exactly very fun of you.

As the sun began to fall, splaying orange and blues over the wide open sky, behind you, you could hear voices. A group of them, some male, some female. Memories of when your notebook had gotten snatched by those two horsed face assholes came flooding back and with all your alertness, you stood up, and decided that this sitting place was no longer safe. Nothing was.

Before you even made it ten feet away, the group had found their way to your spot and gotten comfortable, one of the girls cheering, ‘this’ll be our hangout! look at how pretty the view is!’

You took a short drive down the stretches of road and decided that if you were going to lament in your own sadness, you were at least going to do so in a place that had something to cover the sound of your tears. Plus a nice view.

The beach, littered with its picnic tables and the sounds of crashing waves would suffice just fine. So, you pulled in the desolate parking lot and wandered down the sandy shores until you stumbled upon a picnic table shaded by a large willow cascading lushious branches to block out the sun- a perfect canopy for you to wallow under. 

You had nothing at that moment. No friends, no reputation, no one to believe your tragic tale. And now, you’d just lost the one spot that made you feel comfortable when stress was building into your body like concrete. Tears pricked into the corners of your eyes and you bit your lip, dreading that feeling of a lump in your throat. Why you? Everything had been going so well. How could not even a single person believe that Tate had tried to hurt you?

Well, actually, there was one person.

Of course Nathan believed you. He’d been the one to rescue you, after all. Time and time again it seemed.  How was it that even the ones closest to you would turn their back so fast, yet Nathan seemed to be there even when you didn’t want him to be? Even when you yelled at him, and he yelled right back, fire and sparks falling into embers around the two of you. 

In that moment, you almost felt like you could finally relate to him. A reputation based on lies and things out of your control, paired with a hardheaded attitude to try and combat all the assumptions. 

No wonder he was so angry. 

“Hey bitch,” A voice suddenly called, and you had a split second moment where you were terrified of once again being the victim of a cruel prank or some classmates boredom. “How about next time you have a pity party you don’t fucking call me in the middle of it.”

You blinked away your tears and through the blurriness saw a figure coming towards you. All that sass, the tone...

“Nathan?” You breathed. It only takes moments before he’s in front of you, holding his phone in view, seeing that the call that had been running for nearly ten minute. You flush in embarrassment, pulling your phone from your back pocket. “How did that happen?”

“Well, can your ass dial numbers?” He taunts, ending the call. 

“Damn it, dumb phone must have butt-dialed you. I knew I should’ve gotten a different one.” You mentally kick yourself. “It must have unlocked in my pocket.”

“You don’t have a password on your phone?” He taunts. When you shake your head, he whistles. “You are just begging for a robbery. I’ll keep that in mind when I’m in the mood to send random messages to all your buddies.” 

“Fuck off.” You scowl, and he grins, hopping up on the picnic table next to you. The sun flatters his skin. He’s almost glowing. 

“Speaking of buddies, how the hell did it pick my number out of your sea of friends?”

You shrug. “Probably cuz’ it’s a priority contact.” 

“Oh lala, I’ve been upgraded to priority huh? Does it display a superman logo whenever you give it a ring?”

“Nope. When I press call it rings the nearest asshole in my vicinity. The fact that it’s you is your own problem.”

“Haha, fucking ha.” He leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees. He stares out at the water, watching waves pull and crash onto the beach. It’s almost beautiful, until he ruins it. “Yknow, you’re a really ugly crier.”

“Wow, thanks.” You shake your head. “That's exactly what I needed to hear right now. Why did you even stay on the line?.” Wiping your eyes, you start to forget your tears. “Couldn’t have been that wild of a conversation.”

Nathan shrugs. “Between the crying and the sound of the waves it was pretty nice.” He grins. “Very educational.” 

“Awesome. Glad I was able to make your day.” It doesn’t feel like your usual bitey remarks. You’re tired, you’re still a little hurt and you can’t stop thinking about how such an amazing morning had turned into such a horrible day.

“So what’s got you all fucked up? Never seen you act like this big of a baby before.”

“Nothing. You already paid off your debt to me per this morning, so feel free to resume our regularly scheduled mutual hatred.” You say, lying through your teeth. You know you’re both past the point of hatred, but you’re feeling jaded, you can’t help it. 

“Oh shut the fuck up,” He groans. “I didn’t drag my ass all the fucking way out to this shit hole of a beach just for you to give me that bullshit. What, did you fail a test? No one matched you on tinder?”

“Everyone thinks me and Tate slept together last night.” You blurt. “I think he’s telling people me and him had sex.”

Nathan tenses his shoulders and grimaces. “Fucking werido.”

“I told my best friends that he tried to take advantage of me and they don’t believe me. One of em’ even said he wouldn’t do something like that.”

“Fuck em’. Who needs best friends.”

“And to make everything so much better, these two bitches that I share four of my classes with harassed me all goddamn day. I mean, fucks sake, how the hell are girls named April and May of all things able to get to me. It’s bullshit. And to make matters worse, Tate is just… Getting away with it.”

“Yeah well, something tells me that Tate’s gonna get a real nice fucking taste of medicine eventually. I just gotta find him first. He’s got a lot of nerve spreading shit around given I knocked his ass onto the pavement.” Nathan brows knit at the memory.

You test the waters. “Why would you do that for me?”

He seems caught off guard, or maybe, surprised that you’d ask. Maybe he thinks you’re both beyond that point. He grumbles, “Why does it matter.”

“I’m just curious. We don’t owe each other anything, remember?”

“Yeah, well,” He huffs. “Don’t ask me questions to shit I don’t know the answer to.”

“You say that an awful lot.” You tease.

“Yeah well you ask dumbass questions an awful lot. Not everything I do has to have some weird ass motives behind it, ___. Maybe I’ve got beef with Tate that’s outside of you.”

“Uhuh. Sure.” You’re about to say something else, when your phone lights up with a text. The display makes your heart fall all over again. 

Unknown Number: you should just pack up and go somewhere else. no one wants std’s from breathing your air xoxo

You don’t even know who that is. Now absolute strangers are on your case. You want to throw your phone into the ocean and leave.

Nathan scoffs. “Don’t even bat a fucking eye for that bitch, whoever the hell they are. Half the hoes you’ve mentioned have slept with half the football team,” he pinches his jacket, “and I would know.”

“Ew, Nathan,” You grimace, that same feeling from the morning returning. It feels, oddly, like jealousy.  He nudges your arm with his elbow and grins playfully. It’s cute.

“Chill, I’m just fucking with you. You gotta know even I wouldn’t fuck girls that desperate. I’m a man of class.”

That last comment actually forces a laugh from you. It’s soft, but it’s real. The first laugh you’ve genuinely had all day. “That’s horrible.” You remark, giggling again.

It's almost like the slight restoration of your mood puts him at ease as well. He leans back on his hands and stares off into the ocean, those sparkling waters under the setting, orange sun. “I’m for real though. Those hoes aren’t worth your time. One day when we blow this shithole of a town they’re not even gonna matter.”

Your brows knit, eyes blinking up at him. Had you heard that right? 

“We?” You ask, perplexed, albeit a little… Hopeful.

Nathan sputters. “Well- Like, when everyone’s older and-”

“You know what, it's fine.” You interrupt. “Fuck it. You’re right. We’re gonna blow this town and they’re just gonna be some shitty memories.”

He sucks in a shaky breath. You’ve never heard him scramble like that, like he’s been unmasked. The look he casts you when you agree, when you don’t tease or patronize and finally hop on the idea that yeah, what if the two of you really didn’t have to deal with it anymore.

What if the two of you could just exist, without the anger. 

You look up at him. “Would you actually do that though?” You start. “With me, of all people?”

He swallows. His expression is tense, but he’s not upset. He appears nervous, caught off guard. Nathan tries, “I-”

Your phone rings. Shrill, piercing. Mood destroying. 

“Jesus Christ, it’s my mom.” You grab your phone and Nathan looks forward, stone faced and silent as you hop off the table and answer. It’s your mother, who all but shouts into the phone that her and your father are taking a surprising visit to Arcadia Bay while they’re traveling by on their vacation. She insists that you be ready in about an hour for dinner, and likely there will be family photos. 

Which means if you still look as wrecked as you did this morning, you’re gonna have a lot of washing up to do. With a quick goodbye, a short and sweet, ‘love you’, you hang up and sigh. 

“You still tell your mom you love her?” He teases. “What are you, five?”

You frown. “You don’t tell your parents you love them?”

Nathan side eyes you, and just shrugs. It is all the answer you need, really, and for his sake you decide it wouldn’t be best to press the issue. Not now. But- it still makes your heart hurt just a little. You wished that he’d had it better growing up. 

“Right… Do you want a ride home?”

“Fuck no, what am I,” He shoves his hands into his pockets. “a fucking girl scout?” 

“I was just offering, weirdo.” When he doesn't get up, you feel like you’re missing out. Like if you stayed, maybe, just maybe, you’d get to know him a little better. “Hey, if you want, I can stay for a bit longer.”

He rolls his eyes. “You’re needed elsewhere. But,” he shrugs. “I don’t know. Fuckin’... Text me or something. Or not, I don’t care either way.”

There’s a small warmth in your chest that rises to your cheeks. He wants you to text him. “Yeah,” You say. “If I’m feeling fun.”

And with that, you bid him farewell, beginning your descent to the parking lot. 

“Hey,” He calls, and you turn just in time to catch a small item he’s tossed right at you. A tiny key resides in the palm of your hand. “Spare. If shit hits the fan again-...” He shrugs, and actually looks away. “Just don’t be too fucking loud of I’ll kick your ass out myself. No Madison needed.”

The widest grin plays over your lips. “I’m gonna re-decorate your room while you’re gone.”

“Ah, you fucking better not.” He shouts. “Actually- you know what, give it back.” 

“No, no! I’m sorry.” You play with the key between your fingers. “Thanks for this.”

“Yeah, whatever. Don’t lose it and remember- emergencies only. I don’t need you watching me sleep like fucking freak. We’re past that stage.” 

“How many times will I have to say I was never watching you. Christ… But, alright. See ya, then.” The key is heavy in your palm. 

You place it into your pocket and give him one last glance before you take off, leaving him to enjoy the sound of waves, birds, and the absence of your tears.

[suchalonelysunflower]

I gave you my heart (h.s)

Pairing: Harry Styles X Reader

Requested: Yes!

Summary: Harry is trying to propose to you, but his family is getting in the way.

Warnings: Fluff. Angst if you really pay attention. Language. Mentions of alcohol (barely) Some grammatical errors (English is not my first language, sorry!)

Word count: 4.1 K

Author’s Note: Oh how I missed writing for Harry! And a fluffy piece nonetheless! Who am I? Well, this is a Holiday fic (non specific) and I’m also planning to do a 5SOS holiday fic by the end of the year, so stay tuned! 🌻 Reblogs, comments, feedbacks and likes are welcomed and encouraged! Please, I love to hear from you guys 💕 Hope you like it and Happy Reading 🦋✨

My materialist // wanna be on my tag list?

Picture form Pinterest. Title from the song “last Christmas”

Ok i know this is cheesy but hear me out, Harry proposing on Christmas with his family around.

Harry kneeled in front of you. His hands were intertwined with yours as he spoke of all the grand adventures you had and how much he adores you while your eyes filled with glossy cold tears. He couldn’t see his mum from where he was, but he could already tell she started crying as well while Gemma held her in a side hug, watching the scene they never thought would happen being displayed in front of them.

Words of praise left his mouth like a symphony, knowing that he will never get tired of praising you as the angel you were. Tears started forming in his eyes as he promised you a lifetime of love and adventure, hoping with all his heart you would say yes.

They all knew the question that was going to pop out of his lips any time now.

“So, Y/N L/N” He said, as the fireworks started to go off behind them “Will you marry me?”

You wiped your tears with the back of your hand and with a smile you answered:

“You better wake up before I leave you in the car”

Harry opened his eyes in shock, cursing under his breath as he realized he had fallen asleep without realizing.

You were on your way to Anne’s house for the Holidays, just like you promised a few months ago when Harry finalized all his tour arrangements. You were very excited to see Harry’s family again, it has been a while since you got to spend any time with them as you accompanied Harry across the world for the most part of the past year. You love them with all your heart and it comforts you to know that the feeling is completely mutual - Anne practically adopting you the minute you came through the door as Harry’s partner a few years ago and Gemma quickly becoming your best friend over the span of a few minutes, bonding over clothes, movies and embarassing Harry stories.

Harry loved how much you and his family love each other, for that is all he asked. For him there are only three things that matter most: His music and his fans; His family and, of course, you. He felt really blessed to have you in his life during all these years, knowing that you love him just as much as he loves you (although he would always fight that he loves you more) You were his rock, his best friend, his world… and he cannot wait to put a rock on that hand to prove that to you.

He got the ring a few months prior, but he knew he wanted to marry you from the first moment he saw you interact with his family. He still remembers that cold December night when he came downstairs looking for you and you were sleeping on the couch next to Gemma. You have been talking all night and were exhausted by the time you both finished that bottle of wine. He stood on the entrance of the living room watching the cozy scene with a smile plastered across his face. He knew he loved you back then, but his happiness at that moment was unmatched.

He was so entranced by the picture that he didn’t notice Anne standing beside him.

“This one’s a keeper” She said in a low voice as she watched you both with tenderness in her eyes. But Harry already knew that.

And now, as you were driving the cold snowy roads of Cheshire, Harry drifted back from his fantasy waiting to come true. Thinking back and forward of the little velvet box that is hidden in his suitcase.

“Sorry,” He said with a yawn “Didn’t notice I fell asleep”

You smiled at him but kept your eyes on the road “It’s okay, love. I know you must be tired of the trip. That is why I asked you to switch seats and let me drive in the first place”

Harry stared at you for a moment, completely enamored by your thoughtfulness. He really was lucky to have you.

“Besides,” You joke “With your driving skills, we might get to Homes Chapel the day after the Holidays if we are lucky”

Harry rolled his eyes “Oh, bug off!” He said as he mocked annoyance, but his laugher soon joined yours as you continued your way towards his childhood home.

*

You let out a happy squeal once you noticed Anne standing in front of her house from a distance, wasting no time on parking the car so you could run up to her and hug her.

“Aww I’m so glad you’re finally here!” Said the matriarch of the Styles’ family as she crushed your body in a tight hug “I’m never letting you go a year without visiting us again!”

“It will not happen again! I promise” You answered with a laugh.

She let you go just enough so she could place her palm on your cheek, caressing it in a motherly way “You better! And in any case you could always run away from my son and come stay here for as long as you want!”

This is when Harry decided to interject. He was standing behind you, smiling at the exchange that was happening in front of him.

“Oi! No need for that now, mum”

Anne laughed as she went to hug her son, murmuring about how if he doesn’t keep an eye on you she would steal you from him without a second thought.

After a few more greetings, Anne ushered you into the house. The warm environment and the smell of a homemade meal made you feel at home.

You always loved to come and visit Harry’s childhood home. It reminded you of him, the real Harry you got to know on a more personal and deep level. The Harry that let all his walls down and let you in, welcoming you to his house, his family and friends and into his heart. The Harry you love with all your being.

“‘m gonna head and help mum with dinner” Your boyfriend said as he hung his coat by the door “You’ve been driving all day, love. You should rest”

He pressed his chest to your back and rounded his arms around your waist to hold you closer before placing a kiss to the shell of your ear. You hummed “‘m not tired. I don’t think I could rest till much later.”

“Still,” Harry said “At least try to rest? Don’t want you to feel sick and I know you’ll hate to miss all the traditions”

You sighed “At least that way I’ll get you to take care of me, right?” You smiled at him and he smiled back.

“Always, darling”

You placed a couple little chaste kisses to his lips, pulling away from his grasp before he started to try and deepend them as he always does “‘m gonna go unpack my suitcase then. Want me to unpack yours?”

Harry was about to answer when the alarms in his head went off, reminding him of the little box you should definitely not find “Uh, n-no. I have to show something to my mum” He lied “I’ll unpack my stuff later. Thank you, though”

His response got you a little confused, but you just shrug your shoulders and turned around towards the guest room, aka: Harry’s old room. Letting Harry let out a relief breath once you went out of sight. This was going to be a long holiday.

*

Gemma arrived later that night. She didn’t even put her luggage on the ground before she caught your eye and ran to hug you.

“Oh my god” She said, hugging you tighter “I have so much to tell you!”

“Oh sure,” Harry said, walking towards her as she almost left you out of breath “I’m just your brother who you haven’t seen in a long time… Why should I get a hug?”

The older Styles rolled her eyes “Because I see you in every social media post there is you dork! Besides, I have had Y/N in my life rather recently compared to living with you under the same roof for almost seventeen years”

Harry placed his hand over his heart and mocked a hurt expression, making his sister laugh before she moved on to wrap him into a hug.

“I missed you, you wanker” She said, hiding some love in the insult.

“Me too, jerk”

“But I missed Y/N more” She said with a grin, pulling away from Harry and turning back to you. Intertwining your arms so you’d walk together into the living room “So, I was telling you…”

Hours flew by and before you’d realized it was almost 2 am when you and Gemma made your ways to your respected rooms. You noticed that Harry went to bed a little earlier and you guessed he would be asleep by now.

You found your boyfriend safe and tucked away in dreams once you opened the door. You smiled to yourself as you admired his sleeping figure sprawled all over the bed with one arm spread over your side, waiting for you to cuddle up against it.

A yawn flew through you as the exhaustion of the day settled in. You quickly changed into your cozy pajamas, did your nighttime routine and layed in bed next to Harry, who, as soon as he felt you by his side, pulled your body closer to him.

“Hi” He said in a whisper, kissing the shell of your ear.

“I thought you were sleeping, H” You giggled as you felt his hand caress your side.

“Couldn’t sleep well without you, you know that”

And indeed you did. Harry always complained whenever he was on tour that he missed you too much and that he needed you even more “I just feel better when I’m with you, love. I do better. It’s like you are my lucky charm or something” He’d always said before he convinced you to travel the world with him. And, to be honest, you did not need that much convincing. If you could spend all your living days with Harry, you would.

“Wha’ time is it anyways?” He asked.

“Late” You shrugged, turning your body so you were facing him “I’m sorry. We didn’t realize we spent all night talking”

Harry furrowed his eyebrows “Why are you apologizing for? I love when you spend time with my family”

“But I almost didn’t spend time with you!”

Harry chuckled “It’s okay, love. I know how my mum and sister can get whenever you are around. They love you almost as much as I do”

“Well, Gemma did say she loved me more....” You teased, making Harry scoff.

“Not possible” He pressed his lips to yours, trying to make your worry disappear “‘m serious, though. Don’t be sorry for spending too much time with them. I swear it 's fine. We could have time for ourselves at any point of the Holiday”

You murmured a soft ‘okay’ before drifting into a peaceful sleep. Harry watched you sleep for a few minutes, taking in the joyful peace that your presence gifted to him whenever you were around. Thinking about how he cannot wait to make you an official Styles.

However, that was not going to be an easy job.

*

As the day passed, you and Harry had less and less time for yourselves as Anne and Gemma got you two completely busy with different activities. From getting the groceries, to help one of them decorate the house or even to just take a walk. You were never not doing something.

And it wasn’t like a bad thing either. On the contrary, you were having the time of your life sharing all of these amazing traditions with Harry’s family. They made you feel welcome and cared for, something that was fairly new to you since you met Harry.

You loved decorating the House and baking cookies with Anne, and it felt so great to have a friend like Gemma around to take the seriousness out of a serious situation and just let you have your fun. But you would be lying if you’d say that you don’t miss your boyfriend.

Even though Harry was always just mere feet from you, he was also caught up in various activities and could barely spend any time with you and that was making him frustrated.

The Holidays were stressful enough, but for Harry this took a whole other level when he thought about the proposal and how many times he failed at getting you two alone so he could do it.

The first miss opportunity came when it started snowing the day after your arrival. He knew how much you loved snow because, in your own words, it made it all seem magical. So when he woke up early that day, he decided that now was the time and that he was ready to pop up the big question. He was going to ask you to play in the snow - just like you usually do - and make a snowman. But the surprise would come with the ring that would be on the snowman’s finger, ready to be placed on your hand if you said yes. Sadly, when you two got ready to go and play, Anne solicited yours and Harry’s help to go and take some food to the shelter that was not so far away from here, a tradition the Styles’ family have been doing since Harry was a baby. When you came back, most of the snow had melted and you were too tired to even think of going outside again.

The second time Harry’s plan got held up was on a frosty night. He had prepared a cozy inside picnic in front of the fireplace for only you and him. He knew that Anne would be out with some of her friends and that Gemma had plans to meet up with someone on a date, so they wouldn’t be able to interrupt in any way. He got a bottle of wine, a charcuterie board, some chocolate covered strawberries, a fluffy blanket and some candles to light up the dark room. He also made you change in your pajamas so you’ll be even more comfortable during the date. Everything went according to plan, his hand almost reaching for the velvet box he hid under one of the couch’s cushions when Gemma came early from her date, completely ruining the moment as she came into the room fuming because she got stood up. Needless to say he did not propose that night.

Harry was convinced that the third time was the charm. Since it was obvious he couldn’t propose in the house without being rudely interrupted every time, he was going to take you out for lunch and then go ice skating, one of your favorite winter activities. Yes, he was aware that it wasn’t his most elaborated plans, but he didn’t know what to do. Plus, he had talked to the owner of the ice skating pit beforehand, asking him to please let them have at least one hour of privacy so he could propose in peace. The owner even promised him to play the playlist Harry made for you and to add some special lightning to make the moment more romantic.

Feeling excited, Harry ran down the stairs to give you the news of your date. But his face fell when he saw you getting ready to go out with Gemma and his mum.

“Are you going out?” He asked as he saw you put on your coat.

“Yes,” You answered with a smile, but that smile soon felt when you saw the disappointment in Harry’s eyes “Your mum asked me and Gemma to go for a last minute shopping run… Harry are you okay, love?”

Your boyfriend closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, a habit he acquired whenever he was frustrated “‘m perfect” He mumbled, turning around to go back to your shared room.

But you were quicker as you grabbed him softly by the arm to make him stop in his tracks. Slowly making him turn around so he was face to face with you “Don’t lie, H. What is going on?”

“‘m just,” He started, but he couldn’t even look you in the eyes as he tried to find the right words to say to you, almost feeling like he is failing you somehow “We never got the chance to spend some time together, Y/N. You are always busy or I am always busy with my mum or with Gemma that I almost didn’t see you this whole trip and I-I just miss you”

Your eyes softened and your heart fluttered with his words. You missed him too, much more than you could say. Everytime you find some time for yourselves you get interrupted and by the end of the day you are both too tired to do anything else besides sleeping. You could tell Harry was frustrated by this whole ordeal, you just didn’t imagine it would affect him this much.

You cupped his cheek and brought him into a sweet kiss “I miss you too, love. Very much” You watched how Harry’s green eyes softened, but they still held an unspoken sadness “If you want me to stay with you, then I’ll stay with you. I don’t need to go with them, you know?”

Harry sighed, placing his hand over yours and caressing it with his thumb “I know” He said as he gave a kiss to your palm “You know how much I love seeing you hanging out with them and I know how much you enjoy it. You should go”

“But Harry-”

“Go, have fun!” He said in a cheerful tone as he brought you closer to give you a hug “I’ll be fine, love. I just want you to remember this Holiday and to enjoy it as much as you can”

“Are you sure? Because I can stay if you-”

“‘m sure,” He smiled, placing a kiss on your forehead, “Go, darling. They must be waitin’”

You smiled back at him and pecked his lips before turning around and closing the front door. Missing for just a second the way Harry’s smile dropped as he saw his plan being shut down once again.

*

He wasn’t proud of his last resort. He knew you deserved an epic proposal, something that could come out from an Oscar winning movie. Something that was as special as you are. And he was beating himself for ruining every chance he’s got to do this properly, but he promised himself that he would not let you - nor him - return home without a shiny rock on your hand. And a Styles never backs down from a promise.

So, with his heart almost beating out of his chest, he placed the gift bag with the other gifts that adorned the living room. Everything will be done tomorrow and there is no turning back now. It was now or never.

The next morning, you found yourself caught up in another Styles’ tradition. You were all sitting in the living room wearing your coziest pajamas as you drank hot cocoa and ate some gingerbread cookies with a pinch of peppermint. It was almost time to open the presents and you could tell Harry was feeling rather anxious.

“Did you sleep well?” You asked as you curreled up to him on the couch that was facing Anne and Gemma, who were already starting to distribute the presents among you.

Harry hummed as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders, turning his face so he was looking at you. He could swear in that moment that he has never seen someone as beautiful as you right now as you watched him with doe eyes, your hair a little bit messy and a thin layer of chocolate decorating your upper lip. He was completely and utterly in love with you.

“Yeah, why���d you ask?”

You shrugged “You were tossing and turning a lot last night, almost like you were nervous or something. Are you sure everything’s alright?”

Harry smiled “I got you, don’t I? How could anything not be alright?”

You rolled your eyes at his cheesy remark, but quickly gave him a kiss on the cheek. Harry didn’t miss the way your cheeks blushed.

“I asked Anne and Gemma to give us a day for ourselves” You said after a moment. Harry looked at you surprised. You couldn't know..? “I told them I felt guilty that I haven’t spent any time with you since we arrived and they understood” You smiled at him “I got you all for myself today, mr. Styles”

Harry’s eyes filled with glee as he brought your lips to him, kissing you with all the love he could pour at the moment.

“Uh, mum?” Gemma’s voice interrupted the scene “I don’t think this is mine” She said as she opened a gift bag.

“No? It’s a jewelry bag so I thought-”

Gemma shook her head “No! This is definitely not for me” She said as she took the little velvet box from inside, making the room go completely quiet. In that moment, all eyes went to Harry as he watched the scene with horror.

“Oh shit” He said, untangling himself form you so he could grab the box from his sister’s hand “Actually, this is mine”

All three of you stayed quiet as he grabbed your hand and kneeled in front of your sitting figure on the sofa.

“Oh my god” You said, covering your mouth that almost fell to the ground because of the shock.

“Oh my god” Gemma and Anne said in unison as they realized what was happening in front of them.

“Y/N,” Harry said looking into your eyes “Let me start by saying that this is not how things were supposed to go. And I’m not just talking about my sister opening your gift. I’ve been trying to propose for as long as this Holiday lasted. Waiting for the perfect moment because you are my perfect half, my soulmate and you deserve nothing less than pure and utter perfection, my love. And I’m sorry I can’t give that to you now”

You could feel the tears pouring down your face since the moment he kneeled in front of you, but hearing Harry say that he wanted to propose all along made you cry harder, how did you get so lucky?

“I knew I had to do this here, for this is the place where I knew I wanted to marry you the first time we came to visit. I have loved you from the very first moment you said hello, and I knew from that instant that you were going to become my favorite hello and my most painful goodbye. Y/N you are magic, my love. My lucky charm. Everything I do, everything I say or think or sing is for and because of you. You are my muse and my best friend. My anchor and my wings. I cannot live without you nor do I ever want to. You have bewitched me body and soul and I love you. I love you. I love you”

You could hear the distant sobs of Anne in the background, but all you could see was Harry. Harry, your best friend and lover. Harry, the person who filled your life with love and light. Harry, who was now on one knee, with tears in his eyes and a ring on his hand. Harry. Harry. Harry.

“You don’t have to say yes, but I really hope that you do. Y/N, my love. I love you more than life itself, you have made me a better man by loving me the way that you do. Let me love you the same now and forever. Will you marry me?”

You nodded through the tears “Yes, Harry. A million times yes!”

You swore Harry’s smile could light up the world in that moment as he slid the ring down your finger. But you didn’t even look as you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him like his mum and sister weren’t watching, throwing the both of you to the floor.

Anne and Gemma started clapping, celebrating the new beginning of the young couple. Because these holidays had a new meaning now, since now and forever they will be remembered as the day you said “yes” to the love of your life.

Tags: @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof @multistann @mystic-232

[byunbaekby]

title — a chaotic christmas pairing — doyoung x male reader genres — angst, fluff, soulmate au, christmas! warnings — language word count — 3.5k summary — you’ve finally come to terms with the fact that you have a crush on your friend, doyoung. but something throws a wrench in your plans, and all of a sudden nothing is going right anymore. additional — this is a very late and very belated fic release gift for my favorite doyoung simp @puppywritings​​. it’s me! i’m your secret santa and i come bearing gifts of soulmate!doyoung. when i saw that i had gotten you, i was so excited to write for you and our favorite boy! i’m sorry that i released this so late, but it’s here now. you requested a mix of angst and fluff, plus chaos and “everything would be solved if they just talked to each other.” hope you like it! may 2021 bring blessings and more doyoung content for you, love. 

“So, you like Doyoung.”

Ten’s bold statement causes you to choke, spitting out the hot cocoa you’re currently consuming. Heat covers your throat, but your coughing interrupts the sweetness of the chocolate. In your fit of coughs, Ten doesn’t even laugh.

When you finally come to, you sputter. “What—What makes you say that?” Now, your friend laughs, but it’s a dry chuckle that leaves his lips as if he’s laughing at you. “I don’t—” You cough again. “—like Doyoung. I mean, he’s nice, and tall, and funny—especially when he’s making fun of you, but, no! Well, I like him as a friend, I mean.” 

The look on your friend’s face is not at all convinced. “Sure…” 

You lean forward. Clearly your act is done and the curtains are closed. Now, your voice suddenly dips lower into a whisper, as if anyone in the mall food court would be listening to you. “How did you know?” 

Ten scoffs. “Sweetheart, everyone knows. Everyone except you and Doyoung, apparently.” A groan leaves your lips as you sit back in the seat, placing your cup of hot cocoa onto the table with a disgruntled expression. “Why don’t you tell him?” 

“We’re not soulmates, and everyone deserves to be with their soulmate,” you answer, eyes sad as you play with your cup mindlessly. Ten shoots you a pointed look before saying, “Not everyone has to be with their soulmate, Y/N. You know that.”

It’s true. Everyone is born with a soulmate, whom they must find because they share a tattoo somewhere on their body. Though the world loves to push soulmates together, it’s become commonplace for people not to pursue their relationships with the ones the universe had deemed them perfect for. Sometimes those relationships don’t work out, or people are unhappy with who they have. In any case, it’s fairly common for people to choose their own relationships. But, that’s not the case with your friend group. Though it had been just you, Doyoung, Ten, and Kun since the beginning of university, the group had been expanded when the latter two introduced their soulmates into the friend group.

“Easy for you to say, you have Johnny,” you scoff, crossing your arms across your chest. “And Kun has Seunghee. You guys are the perfect couples, and I don’t want to mess up what Doyoung and I have because we tried to date but weren’t soulmates.” Your voice is sullen as you shake your head, as though the action could dispel any lingering thoughts and romantic feelings you had for your friend Doyoung. 

“Listen,” says Ten, voice suddenly serious. “He likes you too.”

“Don’t give me false hope.” 

“I’m not!”

The look you give him is enough to make him do a double take. “Did you ask him, or hear it directly from him?”

“... No.”

His answer brings about a roll of your eyes. “Then you don’t know that he likes me back.” 

“It’s obvious! Just like how your feelings are obvious,” he exclaims, downing the rest of his coffee down his throat (along with a shake of your head). When you ask why he cares so much, he sighs. “Because it’s so goddamn frustrating! You guys have known each other for years now, and you’ve been tiptoeing around each other for so long, it’s so annoying.” His hand comes out to rub his forehead, as if your mutual (?) pining with Doyoung could bring about physical pain. 

It’s true that you’ve hidden your feelings for Doyoung for a while now… When the four of you met at your university’s freshman orientation, you and Doyoung had instantly clicked. Of course, you were all close but it seemed that you and Doyoung always had an especially close bond. You do like him; he’s intelligent and well-spoken (and perhaps a little blunt), but his gummy smile makes your heart melt every time. You just hadn’t realized that it had been so deathly obvious to your other friends. Hopefully… Doyoung hadn’t caught on either. 

Biting down on your lip, you look up from where you had been staring at the ground in thought and back to Ten across the table. “You really think he likes me?”

“I’m about 89.45% sure. I should talk to him about it.” 

“No!” You suddenly exclaim, not realizing how loud your voice rose in the public food court, attracting a few eyes from nearby shoppers. “Wait—maybe… maybe you should. You can talk to him and then tell me what he says. But don’t make it obvious! Don’t tell him we talked about him.” 

Ten rolls his eyes at your dramatic worry. “I’m not completely conspicuous like you are.” Then he stands, tossing his empty Starbucks paper cup into the nearby trash can. “Now hurry up, I have to get Johnny’s gift before they run out of maid’s outfits.”

Your hand meets your forehead in a facepalm. 

-

It seems like nowadays Ten’s mission is to annoy Doyoung to the max. 

“Is Johnny busy or something?” asks Doyoung through gritted teeth as Ten spins around in his desk chair. The former had been trying to study when the Thai man paid him a visit at his apartment to disturb his peace. Ten simply continues to spin in perpetual circles on Doyoung’s chair, seemingly not a care in the world. 

“No,” replies Ten. “I just wanted to hang out with you, bro.”

Doyoung grimaces at his friend. “Please don’t call me that.”

“I could call you mom like I call Kun.” 

“No thanks,” responds the dark haired male with a quiet chuckle as he grabs a packet of ramen from the pack atop his fridge. As Doyoung begins to pour some water into the pot on the stove, Ten suddenly stops spinning and he’s seemingly not dizzy at all, seeing as he walks forward to lean on the kitchen counter. 

“So, how are you, buddy?” He suddenly asks, trying to remain casual but failing poorly. Ten’s never been the type for small talk. 

Doyoung knows this, so he cocks an eyebrow over his steaming pot of ramen. “I’m doing just fine, buddy.” Ten nods in understanding, thoughtfully rubbing his chin. At this point, Doyoung has given him a clearly confused expression. “Okay, what do you want? You only show up unannounced to steal my food or complain, and you’re doing neither.” 

The man in question fakes an overly dramatic gasp, hand on his chest. “How could you accuse me of something like that? I just want to catch up with my friend.” 

Pouring his ramen into a bowl Doyoung rolls his eyes. “Are you here to gossip then?” 

“Ask me how I am first.”

A dry laugh leaves Doyoung’s lips before he capitulates. “Fine. How are you?”

“I’m doing great, thank you for asking. You know why? Because I found out some spicy information.” 

“Do share,” drawls Doyoung as he blows his ramen, though he seems not at all interested. Oh, he’ll be interested after this, thinks Ten mischievously. 

“I found out that Y/N has a crush on someone.” 

A sputter is heard from Doyoung’s end as he chokes on the few ramen pieces he had been slurping during his friend’s reveal. Wow, thinks Ten. The two of you are more alike than you think. After he clears his throat, he speaks, “Y/N has a crush on someone.” Ten nods proudly. Doyoung blinks, running a hand through his dark locks. “Okay, um… that’s good for him. Why are you telling me this though?”

The man in question shrugs, a mischievous grin on his lips. This is exactly how he wanted it to go. “Just thought I’d let you know. So you can prepare for having another person join the group.”

“Oh, well… I guess that leaves me as the only single person in the group, then,” says Doyoung, voice softened as he looks down at his noodles. 

“Yep,” responds Ten with a tone much too cheerful for his friend’s previous tone, popping the ‘p.’ If he hadn’t been so occupied with staring thoughtfully into his food Doyoung would have noticed. Ten’s plan is working just as desired. 

“Oh,” Doyoung suddenly speaks up. “I forgot to tell you. I found my soulmate.” 

Oh, shit. 

Ten blinks. “W-What? You met your soulmate?”

Now Doyoung rubs his nape, looking a bit sheepish. “I did…” With the slight smile that Doyoung wears on his lips, Ten can see that the man must be enamored by his new soulmate. When had he met them? How had he found out? Did he see their tattoo? Ten is seeing his plan crumbling right before his eyes. 

Of all their friends, Doyoung was the most hopeless romantic. He romanticized the idea of finding his soulmate, someone who held half of his soul. He would surely much rather pursue his soulmate, but Ten hadn’t taken that into consideration. After all, he hadn’t expected Doyoung to find his soulmate right as he planned to get his two best friends together!

“Well, that’s… good, isn’t it?” 

Still looking down, staring deeply into his bowl of noodles, Doyoung nods. “Yeah, I guess it is.” 

Oh god, Y/N will be devastated to find out, and it’ll be all his fault. 

-

The look on your face when he tells you is one he’d like to forget. You’ve liked Doyoung for so long, even if you had only come to terms with it a while ago. Ten knows this, and so he feels even worse for being the one to give you hope. 

“Y/N, I’m s—”

“Don’t apologize,” you cut him off, wearing a cheery smile on your lips. Even from a mile away, Ten would be able to tell how fake it is. “This is good, right? I told you, he’s supposed to find his soulmate. That’s how the universe works.” 

Today instead of the mall, you’re both sitting on the couch in Ten’s apartment and now you hug the couch pillow close to your chest. You look sad, and Ten almost feels pain from how defeated you look. “I’m sorry, because I gave you hope and you told me not to.” 

“It’s okay,” you say, suddenly standing from your spot on the couch. Next, you give a dry laugh, but it comes out strained. “Since when did you ever listen to what I said, anyways?” 

“Y/N, it’s okay to be upset.”

“I’m not,” you deny, beginning to walk out of the living room. “But I have to go get some more Christmas gifts before the mall closes. I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Y/N,” he calls once more. There’s no stopping you, he knows, so he follows you instead. “It’s snowing outside. Let’s go together, at least.”

“No,” you say, giving him a small smile as you slip your shoes on. “You’re one of the people I have to get gifts for. I’ll just take a taxi or something. Bye, Ten. Thanks for… trying, I guess.” And then you leave, and he swears that as you disappear from his home and out onto the snowy cold street, he sees the ghost of pain on your face. 

-

It’s a week of avoiding Doyoung and practically everyone when he finally calls you. Seeing his name light up on your phone makes you bite down on your lip in fear. You don’t know what it is that’s made you ignore him and the rest of your friends for a week, but… you needed time apart. 

“Hello?” You ask, trying to keep your voice natural.

“Y/N,” says Doyoung on the line, and you have to physically stop yourself from sighing into his tone. His voice is dark and deep as usual, you’ve missed hearing it. “Why have you been avoiding me?” 

He’s always been straight-forward, and you don’t even have time to be surprised that he’s caught you. But, you can’t tell him the truth. “I haven’t been avoiding you,” you lie. “I’ve just been… busy. Christmas shopping and stuff. Plus, it’s really cold outside, I don’t really like going outside.” 

There's silence, then Doyoung sighs. “Is everything alright?” 

No, not really. “Yeah,” you tell him. “Everything’s fine, I promise.” 

“Is it about that person? Ten mentioned that you liked someone, and were considering telling them.” It’s you, you dimwit. You want to tell him that, but you can’t. It’ll only ruin everything he’s supposed to have with his soulmate. “You know, you can always come talk to me about it. I’m not experienced in dating, but I’ll give you all the advice I have.” His words are accompanied by a small laugh.

You can’t help but smile. That’s why you’ve always liked him so much. Despite being blunt and sometimes brutally honest, he is always there for you. “Thanks, Doyoung,” you respond gratefully. “I’ll be in touch, I promise.” 

“Okay, good. I miss having you around, anyways. You left me to fifth wheel the couples,” he says, referring to your friends and their significant others. 

You laugh, and it’s a happy sound albeit dampened by the reminder that you can’t like him anymore the way you do right now. “Sorry about that. I’ll be around soon.” 

“Okay. Talk to you later?”

“Yeah.” 

Then he hangs up, and when he does, he’s left staring at Kun’s face from across the table. “I don’t know what to do,” he admits to his friend.

-

“What the hell did you do, Ten?” Kun says as he bursts into Ten’s apartment, having just finished meeting Doyoung at the coffee shop. The man in question is sitting on his couch watching a movie when he looks up at the sudden appearance of his friend. “How can you be sitting on the couch when your friends’ friendships are falling apart?”

Ten’s eyes widen. “You mean Doyoung and Y/N?” The Thai man suddenly jumps up to his feet, knocking over his bowl of popcorn. “I don’t know what I did! I was just trying to get them together and then everything went to shit!” 

He runs his hands through his hair, making it run crazy. Even without the appearance of Kun to scold him, he’s clearly been torn up by the situation as well. 

“Just… tell me what you did,” says Kun calmly, for he had always been the calm and level-headed mediator.

“Okay.” Ten takes a deep breath, recalling all of the events of the past few weeks. “Y/N told me that he liked Doyoung.” At Kun’s pointed look he retracts his words. “Okay, I tricked him into confessing it to me, but that’s beside the point! Then, he asked me to talk to Doyoung about it and find out if Doyoung liked him too. But then Doyoung told me that he found his soulmate! And when I told Y/N he got really sad and upset about it, and now he’s been ignoring me for a week!” 

“Y/N is Doyoung’s soulmate, you daft twit!” 

Ten stops in his tracks, eyes wide. “Wait—what did you just say?”

“I just met with Doyoung, and he told me that Y/N is his soulmate. He said he didn’t tell anyone because you told him that Y/N likes someone else, when we all know that Y/N has been heart-eyes for Doyoung since the beginning of time!” Kun exclaims at him, rubbing the space between his eyes where a headache has formed when he finishes. 

Ten simply stands there in the mess of popcorn and couch pillows, blinking with his crazed hair. “Oh god, I’ve created a shit show.” 

“Everything would be solved if they just talked to each other,” whines Kun as he collapses onto the couch. Ten follows beside him, simply staring into the space before sighing. “We have to fix this.” 

Then suddenly, as though possessed by a strange energy, Ten asks, “Why did Doyoung tell you and not me?” 

“He was asking me for advice. And obviously he wouldn’t tell you, look at the mess you made!”

-

Your fingers are freezing as you type out a text to Kun on your phone. He had asked you to meet up with him at the cafe you often frequented in the town square to catch up over hot chocolate, and despite the fact that you had been ignoring your friends for quite a while, you figured… you’ll have to face them eventually. The only problem is… he’s late. 

The snow crackles beneath your shoes as you rock back and forth on the balls of your feet outside the cafe. Kun isn’t one to be late, always favoring punctuality, so you’re perplexed. But it’s only his first time being late, so you’ll go easy on him. 

“God,” you sigh. Tapping your hands on your cheeks, where the cold has begun to steal your sensation of feeling from them, you look around again. “Where is he?” 

“Sorry to keep you waiting.”

You turn to find the owner of the voice, but it’s not Kun. A breath leaves your lips, seen in the air. “Doyoung? What are you doing here?”

“You’ve been ignoring me,” he says, straight-forward as always. Though you haven’t seen him in a short while, he still takes your breath away upon first glance. He’s dressed today in a black coat atop a black turtleneck, and you see even the bulb of his nose has become reddened from the cold. Now there’s really no avoiding the situation. “I figured you wouldn’t respond if I asked, so I had Kun set it up.” 

He’s caught you in the act. “I…” You don’t know what to say. “I’m sorry.” 

“Why?” He asks, hands tucked into his pockets. The way his eyebrows furrow into his forehead make him look even more hurt beyond understanding, and you feel horrible. 

You can’t tell him… It will ruin everything he’s supposed to have with his soulmate. You’re sure by now, that he must have already had time to spend in the presence of his soulmate, learning their ins and outs to savor for the rest of their lives together. But even against your common sense… it comes out. 

“I like you.” 

Doyoung’s lips fall open just the slightest, but you continue. “I like you, God, I like you so much. But Ten told me that you found your soulmate, and I didn’t want to ruin anything. I know that soulmates are just stupid excuses for the universe’s matchmaking, but even so, you should be with your soulmate… Doyoung, I like you so much, and knowing that I couldn’t have you just hurt even more. I know, it was selfish of me to ignore you but I just… can’t look at you and accept that.” You sigh. “It doesn’t matter anyways. I… I’m sorry.”

You begin to turn away, figuring you’ve all but ruined your friendship with your favorite person, but a force tugging on your hand causes you to stop. Doyoung has wrapped his nimble fingers around the circumference of your wrist, and he speaks firmly:

“You are my soulmate.”

You stop in your tracks. Eyes wide, you turn back to him. “What did you just say?”

The eyes that he looks at you with are warm, like a blazing crimson fire in the cold night of winter. “You’re my soulmate. And if you were hurt thinking I found my soulmate, imagine how I felt being ignored by my soulmate.”

“How do you know?” You ask. You’ve been friends with Doyoung for years; there’s no way this information of him being your soulmate has evaded you this long. “How do I know you’re not lying?” 

“Do you remember that night, a few weeks ago? When we got caught in the rain walking back from the library, and ran into my apartment? I gave you a shirt so you could change, and then I saw it.”

Your soulmate tattoo. 

“A rabbit, on the side of your torso.”

Your tattoo (which had been the source of your embarrassment for many years) had never been seen by any of your friends before. Now, it’s your time to be surprised, lips falling open. Despite the cold, you feel heat rise in your body and your heartbeat begins to quicken. 

“You’re…” You start, but find yourself speechless. He finishes for you, a sweet smile on his lips.

“Your soulmate.” He takes your hand in his. “And you’re mine.” 

“Oh my god,” you sigh, free hand coming to meet your forehead in a facepalm. “I’ve been such a shitty person the past few weeks, I’m so sorry. You’re… You’re really my soulmate.”

“Yeah, I am.” He smiles, gums showing proudly as you finally let him in.  Now, he holds up a finger. “And I’ll forgive you for ignoring me, on one condition.” 

“What is it?”

“Go into this cafe with me, let me buy you hot chocolate, and tell me everything about my soulmate.”

A laugh leaves your lips, delighted and emotional as you nod. “We’ve been friends for years, you already know everything about me.” He begins to pull you by the hand into the cafe, the ringing bell of the door sounding familiar to his laugh.

“Well, tell me again. I’d love to hear it.” 

[jiejie-eonni-onee-sama]

Speaking her language

For the charming @empress-writes​ 💙💛🧡💖

Hope you’ll like the story!

The South of France is a safer place for the Basterds, as they took a break after their last mission.

They were currently hidden in a remote cottage near the small village of Gassin. Its inhabitants were kind and helpful, which was a blessing for Aldo Raine and his men.

"No news from the superiors, Lieutenant?"

"Na yet, Donny. But ya can be sure that we're gonna heard about them, one way or another!"

"So, let's enjoy our free time!" happily exclaimed Hirschberg as he ate a piece of cake.

"Can you sometimes stop eating, you glutton?" admonished Andy.

"But Mrs. Dupin's pies are so delicious!"

As the others were gently chatting, Wicki was gazing at (Y/N) (L/N), the only woman in the group. He could not help but smile while looking at her as she read a book. 

If you ask him, he would probably answer that everything she did was perfection. To sum up, he fell heels over head in love with the woman.

Of course, the other Basterds were aware of it and never missed an opportunity to tease him about his crush. Even Hugo loved taunting him!

Wilhelm's daydreaming was interrupted by Utivitch, who shyly asked:

"Hey, (Y/N)?"

"Yes, Smithson?" answered the woman with a gentle smile.

"What are you reading?"

"Oh, I was reading Les lettres de mon moulin by Alphonse Daudet. It is a French collection of short stories about Provence!"

"Okay... Wait, you understand French?"

She laughed.

"Uti, can you remind us what is my job here?"

"She is the translator, you dummy!" growled Hugo.

"Don't be so harsh, Stiglitz!" scolded Hicox.

"Indeed, I am the translator of the group."

"Of course!"

"By the way, how many languages do you speak?" inquired Omar.

A sly grin appeared on her face.

"What if we played a little game?"

"YES! A GAME!" happily screamed Andy, Michael, and Simon.

"Ouch! My ears!" grumbled Wicki.

"Okay, let's play! What are the rules, doll?" asked Donny.

"It's simple: I'll talk in a language to each of you in turn, and you have to guess how many languages I can speak!"

"Sounds good to me! Start whenever ya want, pretty!"

Suddenly, all the Basterds were quiet and waited for (Y/N).

While she was mentally choosing the first player, the other Basterds noticed the enamored gaze of Wicki towards the blonde woman. Time to play some trick on the suitor...

"I'm going to start with... Mr. Hicox!"

"I'm always ready, my dear!"

"Eres muy guapo. ¡Un verdadero caballero!" (You're very handsome. A real gentleman!)"

"Mmmmh... I would say that you speak Spanish!"

"Exactly!"

"And what did you say?"

"I told you that you were handsome, and you look like a real gentleman!"

The Basterds laughed and whistled.

"Well, milady, you're absolutely astonishing! Hearing you speaking Spanish is like listening to a nightingale!" answered the British spy with a seductive wink.

The young woman chuckled before asking:

"You sweet-talker! Alright! Who's next?"

"Why won't you ask Omar?" snickered Michael.

"Go to hell!" grunted the latter.

"Don't worry, Omar: it's only for fun. Are you ready?"

A charming smile came across Omar's face:

"Please, go ahead!"

"Okay... Nǐ hěn yǒnggǎn, wǒ hěn gāoxìng chéngwéi nǐ de péngyǒu!" (You're brave, and I'm happy to be your friend!)

Omar was puzzled.

"It does not sound like a European language..."

"You're right, it's not from Europe..."

"Mh, that's tricky... I don't know!"

"Give it a try!" she gently encouraged him.

The soldier scratched the back of his head:

"Er... Is it Japanese?"

"Sorry, but no. It was Chinese!"

"CHINESE? REALLY?" yelled Omar under the laughs of his comrades.

"Yes, indeed. I learned it when I was younger, thanks to my nanny who came from Shangai! And if you want a translation, it means that you're brave and I am happy to be your friend!"

"Alright... Well, thank you! It was beautiful! Especially when it comes from you!"

"You charmer!"

Wicki raised an eyebrow: he started to guess what his friends were doing, and he was not pleased...

"Fine, let's go back to the game, would you? The next one will be... Donny!"

"At your orders, baby doll!" 

"Then, I start... Sei forte e affascinante! E amo il tuo sorriso!" (You're strong and charming! And I love your smile!)

"Ah, so easy! Italian!"

"Bravo! You're right!"

"And what did you mean?"

"I said Donny is strong and charming... and I love his smile!"

Donny put his large hands on his chest, faking to be enthralled.

"And she speaks Italian! Gosh, this woman is perfect!"

He blew her a kiss.

"Please, receive this proof of love from a Bostonian guy!"

Laughing at his antics, (Y/N) mimicked catching the kiss and holding it against her heart.

"Thank you, Donny!"

As for Wilhelm, he gets annoyed. He did not know if they were trying to woo her for real or if they were just pissing him off. In both cases, he hated them at the moment.

"Okay. For the next turn, I'll ask for... Lieutenant Raine!"

"Here I am, pretty woman!"

"Fine, let's go... 'ant qayid rayie qawiun washajae wajadhab jadana!" (You are an astounding leader. Sturdy, brave, and so attractive!)

"Uh, that's a tricky one! Sounds like the Cree language..."

"Unfortunately, Lieutenant, I don't speak Native American languages."

"Okay... So, is it Danish?"

"No."

"Hm... Perhaps Portuguese?"

"Wrong answer. It was Arabic!"

"WOAH!" exclaimed all the Basterds, impressed.

"God, you awe me! And what did you mean?"

"I was saying that you are an astounding leader and that you are sturdy, brave, and attractive!"

Aldo smirked and gave her his best seductive face.

"Girl, give me back my heart, would ya? You stole it since the first day!"

(Y/N) heartily laughed.

"Please, Lieutenant: you're a charmer!"

"Only for you, sweetheart!"

"Verräter!" (Betrayer!) gritted Wicki.

"Fine, let's go! I choose... Andy!"

"At your service, milady!"

"Okay, I start... Du är söt när du ler." (You're cute when you smile)

"Uh... Does this language exist?"

"Of course!"

"Okay, Kagan: use your brains... Ah, I know: Danish!"

"Almost..."

"Swedish?"

"Good answer!"

"Well done, Kagan!" laughed Archie.

"Thanks, sir... But I'm sure that if (Y/N) goes to Sweden, they would hate her!"

"Why?"

"Look at her smile: it's like the sun, the snow would melt in a blink!"

"Oh My God, Kagan! That was the corniest thing I've ever heard!" roared Michael as he clutched his sides.

"Well, I find it cute. Thank you, Andy!"

"You're welcome... By the way, what did you mean?"

"Oh, I said that you're cute when you smile!"

Kagan fiercely blushed.

"Thank you, Miss..."

"Pleasure is mine... Hey, Michael, do you want to try?"

"I never say no to a challenge, especially from a beautiful lady!"

"Let's see... Vy geniy i prekrasnyy chelovek." (You are a genius and a lovely man). 

"Woah, Woah, Woah! What the hell is that language?"

"I assure you, this is a real language!"

"Uh... German?"

"NO!" answered Wicki and Stiglitz, offended.

"Calm down, guys! Okay, so if it's not German... It's Russian!"

"Bravo!" (Y/N) clapped happily.

"Wait a minute... If I did not miss the track, we know that you speak 6 languages! And I don't know why, but I think you know more!" said Utivitch.

"That's right! Okay, now, who wants to try?"

"I volunteer!" exclaimed Smithson.

"With pleasure! Let's see which language I use with you..." she wondered.

She got an idea and started to speak in a foreign language:

"Anata wa watashi ga imamade deatta naka de mottomo omoshirokute shinsetsuna hitodesu!" (You're the funniest and kindest man I ever met!)

"Ah, I got it! If it's not Chinese... It's Japanese!"

"Splendid!"

"Well done, chap!" laughed Simon as he applauded.

"Thanks, pal. And may I know the meaning of your sentence?"

"Of course! I said that you are the funniest and kindest man I ever met!"

"And they dare to say perfection does not exist! Obviously, they did not meet our lovely (Y/N)!" shouted Utivitch.

"Please, don't exaggerate!" blushed the young woman.

Wicki clenched his fists so tightly that his knuckles went white. He swore to God that they would pay for their antics.

"Okay, the next player would be... Simon!"

"Yes, ma'am! Always yours!"

"You trickster! Fine, try to guess this one... אני מאוד מעריך את החברה שלך." (I really appreciate your company)

"No... You speak Hebrew? The language of our people?"

"Indeed."

"But it sounds beautiful when it comes from you! Okay, you know what? After the war, I'll marry you!"

"Oh, Simon! Don't be so crazy!" she laughed.

"I'm already crazy in love with you!"

"And you say I am corny, Michael..." sneered Andy.

"Forget what I said!"

After she stopped laughing, (Y/N) declared:

"So, I think we had three players last. Well, let's the game begin with Hirschberg."

"Hooray! Here I am!"

"Alright! So, try to find this one... Jesteś uroczym żarłokiem." (You're an adorable glutton)

"Well, that's unusual! Er... I don't remember hearing this language before!"

"Give me suggestions!"

"It is a Slavic language?"

"Not at all."

Gerold sighed.

"Damn it, girl! It's a freakin' riddle!"

"Watch your language in front of a lady!" scolded Hicox.

"Don't worry, Archie: I've heard worse before!" said (Y/N) with a smug grin.

"Mh, I don't know... Is it Turkish?"

"Not at all, but I am currently studying this language!"

"Er... Nope, I don't know!"

"It's Polish!"

"My my, she is impressive!" chuckled Aldo as he took a bite of his bread.

"And what did you say?"

"I said that you are an adorable glutton!"

Hearing that, the other Basterds roared with laughter.

"AH AH AH AH! Well done, (Y/N)!" shrieked Utivitch.

"Hey, that's not fair!" yelped Hirschberg.

Upset that she would offend her friend, the woman apologized.

"I'm sorry if I hurt you, Gerold. I did not mean to..."

"It's alright, (Y/N). Likewise, I'll always forgive you!"

"Oh, why?"

"Because you are beautiful!" answered the soldier with a huge smile.

Relieved, she happily laughed while Wicki contained himself to punch someone's face.

"Okay, now, let's go on with Hugo!"

"I'm listening..."

"I'm sure you'll recognize this language... Du erinnerst mich an einen Wolf: einsam, mysteriös und faszinierend." (You remind me of a wolf: solitary, mysterious, and fascinating.)

"German, without hesitation!" smirked Stiglitz.

"Indeed!"

"And what did she say?" asked Donny.

Hugo stood up and walked towards her.

"She compared me to wolf. She said that I am solitary, mysterious, and fascinating..."

"(Y/N) got the point!" smiled Michael.

Stiglitz arrived near the woman and kneeled with deference.

"You won... I surrender to your beautiful voice! I could not resist you speaking my mother tongue with such delicacy!"

"Nice touch, Stiglitz!" exclaimed Archie.

"Oh, Hugo! You must be exaggerating: I'm pretty sure my accent was a disaster!"

"The only thing pretty is you, (Y/N)" grinned Hugo as he gently kissed the woman's hand... while he looked out of the corner of his eyes at Wilhelm with a roguish glance.

"Trottel!" (You jerk)!" gritted the latter through his teeth.

At the same moment, (Y/N) was amused by her friends' antics: they always treated her like a queen and were very respectful towards her. But this time, she felt that there was something else, like if they were playing a prank on someone...

"You guys are all amazing! But let's finish this game with the last player: Wilhelm!"

Hearing his name, Wicki snapped out of his anger and said:

"Yes, I'm ready!"

"Okay so, let's see if you will be able to find this one... Mon cher Wilhelm, tu es un homme courageux, loyal, et séduisant." (My dear Wilhelm, you are a courageous, loyal, and attractive man.)

The Austrian Jewish man smirked:

"Without any doubt, I would say... French!"

"Precisely! You had a good ear!"

"And what did you say to Wilhelm? I'm curious..." asked Hirschberg with a playful tone.

(Y/N) slightly flushed before answering:

"I told him that he was a brave, loyal, and attractive man!"

"How cute!" laughed Aldo.

As for Wilhelm, he was struck: definitely, he was in love! With a smug smile, he said:

"Merci beaucoup pour le compliment, jolie mademoiselle!" (Thank you very much for the compliment, lovely miss!)

(Y/N) was impressed by his hidden talent.

"Oh, what a surprise! I did not know you speak French!"

"I know a few... but I'm sure I would not reach your level!"

"Don't underestimate yourself!"

"Heck, she could give some “private” lessons, if you want!" smirked Andy while wiggling his eyebrows.

"Keep your dirty thoughts for you!" snarled Wicki.

"Okay guys, calm down! Now that everyone answered (Y/N), did anyone count how many languages she can speak?" asked Archie.

"I did sir! And she speaks in 11 languages!" replied Utivitch.

"11 LANGUAGES?" shouted the others.

"Indeed, you counted well, Smithson. But I also speak Portuguese, Dutch, and Slavic languages. And I'm currently learning Turkish, Hindi, Danish, Korean, and Finnish!"

"Girl, are ya planning to learn all the goddamn languages around the world?" asked Aldo, flabbergasted.

"Maybe... Seriously, I've always been interested in languages since I was a little girl and I never stopped my passion! Luckily for me, I was gifted with a good memory..."

"We noticed it." shrugged Hugo.

"Man, we're lucky to have her with us!" stated Hirschberg.

"Well spotted, private!" 

They enjoyed the afternoon, when (Y/N) had to go to the village for some groceries.

Once she left, Wicki turned his angered glare towards his comrades.

"May I know WHAT THE FUCK were you all doing earlier? Wooing her as if you did not know what I felt?"

"Don't be mad, Wicki: we just wanted to make a joke!" said Utivitch who tried to calm his friend.

"I did not find it very funny!" growled the Austrian.

"Don't be so ill-humored! We'll never steal her from you. Of course, we all love her, but she is like a sister or a best friend to many of us!" retorted Kagan.

"Damn right, Kagan. But Wil, ya better tell (Y/N) what ya feel for her! Stop tripping and man up!" ordered Aldo.

"And how I'm supposed to do that?"

"Use your brains, Wicki, and take a guess: why don't you use something she likes to declare your love?" muttered Hugo as he smoked his cigarette.

"Something she likes..." mumbled Wilhelm as he lost himself in his thoughts.

Suddenly, an idea popped up in his mind, and he slightly grinned: maybe he can try something interesting. 

He got up and searched in his bag a book his mother gave him before his departure. Wilhelm felt that the answer to his issue was between the pages of this poetry collection... 

Later in the evening... 

The cool summer night was calm and appeasing for the Basterds as they were finishing the meals brought by their French accomplices. 

At the same time, (Y/N) went for a small walk through the forest. She enjoyed the peaceful surrounding of the woods and sat on a tree stump to gaze at the shining stars who enlightened the dark blue sky.

The young woman slightly shivered as she felt the gentle breeze caress her bare arms.

"Can I join you?" asked a familiar masculine voice.

Startled, she turned and was relieved to see Wilhelm.

"Oh, it's you! You scare me!"

"I'm sorry!"

"It's fine... You can sit with me!"

Thanking her, the soldier sat close to the young woman. 

He felt a knot in his stomach as he was nervous: God, this girl would be the death of him!

He straightened up himself and declared:

"It's a nice night!"

"Indeed: I've always appreciated summer nights. I don't why, but it always soothes me... And it reminds me of this beautiful painting entitled Starry Night."

"Made by Van Gogh in 1888, if I'm right?"

"Exactly. It was a representation of a starry sky in Provence... where we are!"

"Interesting, I did not know this part of the story..." smiled Wicki.

He leaned closer and said:

"You know, this landscape reminds me of a poem..."

"Really?"

"Would you like to listen?"

"I would enjoy it!" (Y/N) smiled.

Wilhelm cleared his throat and declaimed:

Es liegt der heiße Sommer (There lies the heat of summer)

Auf deinen Wängelein; (On your cheek’s lovely art:)

Es liegt der Winter, der kalte, (There lies the cold of winter)

In deinem Herzchen klein. (Within your little heart.)

Das wird sich bei dir ändern, (That will change, beloved,)

Du Vielgeliebte mein! (The end not as the start!)

Der Winter wird auf den Wangen, (Winter on your cheek then,)

Der Sommer im Herzen sein. (Summer in your heart.)

When he finished reciting the poem, he saw a beautiful smile across (Y/N)'s face.

"Wilhelm, it was amazing!"

"Danke. Maybe you know the author..."

"I think it's Heinrich Heine!"

"Exactly! It’s the poem titled There lies the heat of summer."

"He wrote such beautiful masterpieces about love."

She shrugged with a sly smile.

"I'm a helpless romantic!"

"Don't apologize: it's one of your qualities!"

He added with a slight blush on his face.

"Besides, this poem has a special meaning for me..."

"Honestly? Why?"

"Yes. Well, when I was younger, I told my mother that I would say this poem to the girl I want to spend my life with..."

"Oh, that's so charming..."

(Y/N) interrupted herself when she realized what happened.

"Wait a minute... Did you mean that..."

Wicki nodded.

"You've guessed right: I love you, (Y/N). Since the first day in our team, I knew you were meant to me. But I was a coward for a long time and I did not know how to tell you the truth... until tonight!"

There was a silence until the young woman let out a relieved sigh:

"Thank God, what a relief!"

"What do you mean?"

She fidgeted with her fingers, slightly embarrassed.

"You know, Wilhelm... You were not the only one who was shy about their feelings!"

"You mean... that it's reciprocated?"

She agreed with a slight nod and a timid smile.

Assuaged by this revelation, Wicki leaned closer to her face, letting a few inches between their lips.

"Ich liebe dich, (Y/N)..."

"I love you too, Wilhelm..."

And they gently kissed, their lips sealed in a tender moment... 

Meantime, the other Basterds were spying on them, delighted smiles on their faces.

"Finally! He said it!" smirked Aldo.

"Look how cute they are!" grinned Utivitch.

"Indeed, they are. But remember guys: if you want to stay alive, don't cha flirt with her!" stated Donny.

"We took note, Don'. Should we celebrate this new couple?" asked Hirschberg.

"We'll do it when they'll come back to the camp. For now, let's them enjoy this moment alone!" tenderly smiled Andy.

"Gentlemen, we shall come back before they notice our presence. Moreover, we have a celebration to prepare!" simpered Hicox.

"The British's damn right! Let's go, boys!" discreetly cheered Michael.

"I'm so excited! It's like another Valentine's Day!" laughed Simon.

As they went back, Hugo looked back at the lovers with a small grin on his face.

"Well played, Wicki. You managed to speak her language, after all..."

Well, he was right: Wilhelm and (Y/N) found the perfect language between each other: the language of love...

Thank you for the reading!

I hope you’ll like it and I’m looking for your requests!

Take care and see you soon! 😘🥰😍🤩😷

[moonlightchildz]

Electric; JK (m)

pairings: jungkook x reader

word count: 4.9k 

warnings: smut! oral f. & m. receiving, pwp?? haha, unprotected sex, creampie, drug use (marijuana), dirty talk

date: 05/22/20

a/n: i hit 1k the other day and I feel so touched and blessed. thank you for reading <3

summary: his touch was electric, setting your soul, mind, and heart on fire.

Colorful lights flicker all over, illuminating snippets of the atmosphere you find yourself surrounded with. There’s people dancing with shots of alcohol within their grasp. There’s rumbles of laughter, echoes of murmurs between people, and then there’s him. You can tell he’s watching you from across the room. In fact, that boyish grin laced on his pretty face as he leans against the doorway with heart eyes is an indication. As your hands wander down your body, hips slowly rolling to the beat of the song, you let yourself inhale the hot, summer air. The haziness hasn’t left your mind yet, numbing your senses to a blissful getaway from reality. And certainly he watching you is just adding more color in your eyes, the desire thrumming inside your veins to intensify, and your clouded senses becoming solely focused on him.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

You felt your heart erratically beating already for him. At least your heart and mind had one thing in common now. You wanted him to keep playing games already since he knew damn well this show was all for him, only him. He stood there, arms crossed against his chest, the inside of his cheek being poked by his pinkish tongue. His starry eyes were simply dancing around your body, that boyish grin being replaced by a heated and sensual look that only you could ignite in him.

With a wink sent your way, he began walking towards you, the crowd instantly parting for him. The way he walked was rather calmly and laid back, an easy going smile laced on his pretty art of a face. He sauntered over, hands in the pocket of his skinny jeans that molded over his thick thighs and firm ass. The loose fitted grey tee he was sporting made the muscles in his arms become the center of attention. God, he was the center of attention. 

“How’s my baby doin’?” He greeted you, fingers outstretched towards you. Your fingers were already grabbing a hold of his hand, tugging him towards you. His arms immediately went around your waist, pulling you straight into his strong arms.

“Baby missed me?” He taunted, eyes landing straight to your glossy lips. It was nearly impossible to resist him. With the way he treated you, carried himself, and how damn attentive he was towards you made you thank the heaven’s above for this marvelous blessing. 

“You know damn well I did, Guk,” you began to say it against his lips, a teasing smile beginning to spread across your dangerous lips. You felt his hand slowly begin to wander down your sides, squeezing and touching to his liking. Without saying anything, he was quick in hauling your ass around. His lips were already tracing the crook of your neck, breath fanning against your skin in such an arousing way that it had your breath hitching in response. You let your hands wander down your body, beginning to move to the beat of the song that was blasting through the four different speakers all around the place. 

“Baby,” he hotly breathed against your skin, his warm hands replacing yours. Now it was his turn. With his hands on top of yours, both moving according to his pace, you Instantly allowed yourself to relax on to him. He guided you effortlessly, moving his body to your rhythm. Since his hands were bigger than yours, you could feel the trace of his fingertips on your skin, igniting the electricity inside of you. He was rubbing his face in the crook of your neck, pressing gentle and hot breathy kisses on your skin, tongue undoing your senses one step at a time. 

“I wanna eat you up, you know?” he chuckled, though that tone in his voice was anything but sweet. His honey dripping panty voice was only an indication of what was about to happen once you two ended up alone.

“And I,” you intertwined your fingers with his as you turned, releasing a hold of them to wrap your arms around his neck instead. This way your mouth was directly on his, noses nudging, and heavy breathing transparent. “I just wanna be alone with you.” You admitted to him, eyes fluttering to a close as he began to sway the both of you. 

Despite the atmosphere being so obnoxiously loud, full of people waiting to fuck each other, and the alcohol and drugs, you felt at utter peace being in his sole embrace. There was a certain aura that he delivered that had you sighing in contentment and your heart yearning for him even more. So right now, as the both of you swayed and whispered  to each other through your lips against his, you felt pretty goofy, elated, and so, so, so damn enamored by him. His starry eyes were directly on you, his cheesy smile never leaving his lips. 

“I need a hit,” he suddenly said, eyebrow quirking. “come with?”

Jungkook was already interlacing his fingers with yours as you nodded, pressing a tiny peck on your mouth before he began walking with you right by his side. He led you through his friend’s house, Taehyung you believed was his name, and up the stairs you went where supposedly it was prohibited for anyone to go. As soon as he led you both inside a room, he backed you up against the door, closing it shut as your back met it. His veiny, and tattooed hands were placed against the door just above your head as he began to lean down. 

“Kiss me,” you immediately demanded, fingers beginning to fist his t-shirt. And he, well he was grinning against your lips, hot breath fanning yours in anticipation.

He was slightly smirking, teasing, “Already?”

“Mhm,” you simply replied, nearing him to the point where your chest bumped against his. You released a hold of his shirt and instead let your hands wander over the expanse of his firm chest before loosely wrapping your arms around his neck. Just looking at him made your heart sigh in contentment again.

“Well in that case,” he was still grinning as you felt his hands land on your ass, pulling you closer to his lips. He slowly leaned down, watching as you were already fluttering your eyes to a close. However, that teasing fucker simply nudged your nose with his, lips barely brushing yours.

Your eyes opened and you were not amused one bit. With a small, baby pout you released a hold of him and instead slapped him on the chest. “Quit fucking playin’!” You whined out, and Jungkook began to rub where you had hit him, whining that your smack did indeed hurt him.

“Ouch!” he began laughing, trying to pull you back to him since you were already pulling away. His grabby hands landed on your hips, detaining you from turning and walking out of the room before you could even do it.

“Here, okay, okay,” he chuckled, his hands framing your face. He kissed you softly, easing you up to him once again. “I’m sorry, baby.” He mumbled against your lips, feeling you smile against his.

His lips pressed against yours, hands already tangling your hair up as he pressed you up against the wall. You could feel his firm chest against yours, and the tugging coming from his hands only made you lose more sense as you moaned against his mouth. He groaned at the whiny noises you had begun to make, languidly rasping out, “Mine.”

His hands gripped your thigh before hitching your leg over his waist,  mouth breathlessly clashing against yours. He hungrily ate you up, lips reddening and tongue ever so deliciously tracing the inside of your mouth. You felt the pad of his thumb trace little circles against your cheek before adding more intensity to the way he was kissing you. Jungkook was always a teasing little fucker. His kisses were soft, sensitive and lingering, but he was devilish in that way. His poisoned lips tasted yours, breathing in your air and leaving you breathless.

“You’re so hot,” he praised you earnestly, slowly backing you up against the dresser. His lips began to ghost the side of your cheek, going lower down to your chin, and lower to the base of your neck where you began to arch into him, mouth slightly ajar from the sensations he was already giving you.

“So pretty, so delicate,” he continued, his voice dropping within each word that slipped from his sinning lips. “And mine.”

He slowly lifted his lips from your skin and instead cupped your chin rather fiercely so you could look at him with those dazed and heated eyes of yours. Silence. All you could hear was the muffled sounds coming from behind those closed doors, but for some reason you managed to pick up the sound of his breathing and yours. It reminded you of that night where you snuck out of your place to meet him in the back of his car.

The windows had fogged up and the only sounds emitting from the back of his car were your moans mixing with his sinful, dirty praises.

“My little pretty slut,” his voice echoed in your mind. “taking my cock like the whore she is, right baby?”

“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?”

You blinked once, regaining your consciousness briefly. In moments where you gathered your wits for seconds, you realized just how dangerous and addicting he had become to you. His touch, his lips, and the way he made you feel was becoming your favorite past time. But then he began to smile like that, like he wanted to ruin you as many times as he could. His warm hand encased the side of your face rather tenderly and in that moment you knew you would let him in a heartbeat.

“Thinking ‘bout that night in your car,” you shuddered afterwards, the sole reminder of his wicked tongue making you come undone exciting you even more.

He was grinning once again, clearly remembering rather vividly that same night as well. He slowly neared you, mouth sensually sucking on your bottom lip, clearly appealing to your carnal desires as he hotly drawled out, “Wanna get outta here and relive it again?”        

You were already interlacing your fingers with him, dragging him out of this party once and for all. As you passed by your friends, you simply flashed them a sweet and sincere smile before they saw who exactly was trailing right behind you. Once they noticed Jungkook’s tattooed hand grasping yours, they simply gave you a knowing and teasing smile in return.

“Use protection!” One of your best friends yelled out, giggling afterwards at the roll of your eyes. 

Jungkook simply winked at them and wrapped his arms around you, heavy breathing ghosting your already sensitive skin.

“But that,” he sensually tugged at your ear with his teeth, grabby hands beginning to slip underneath your flimsy two piece dress. “takes all the fun out, doesn’t it baby?”

Baby. Ever since the both of you started this little fling out of curiosity, his term of endearment for you was baby. Baby this, baby that, while your name flew out that door. You jokingly once told him that he referred to you as a baby because he was fucking other bitches and couldn’t bother to remember your name. He, however did not take that lightly at all.

His furrowed eyebrows and narrowed eyes seemed in complete disbelief. He was quick on retorting, “The only person who is fucking my brains out right now is you, and only you y/n.”

“Oh fuck,” You mused out in disbelief at first, but he genuinely seemed displeased. “I’m sorry, Guk.” You tried, but he wasn’t having it.

“No,” he pouted, pulling himself away from your grasp. “Now I’m upset.”

“Oh no,” you cooed out, trying to suppress a smile. “Is my baby mad at me now?”

He simply picked up his ps4 controller and went on to lobby, ignoring you now. You and Jungkook weren’t really a thing, but as your heart felt the need to make him feel better you simply wondered if this was really still a fling between the both of you. A fling wouldn’t make you feel a million things at once. A fling wouldn’t make your skin crawl with goosebumps, or much less have you dizzy with a foreign feeling that you couldn’t quite put a finger on it yet. A fling wouldn’t know the ups and downs, the highs and the lows, or much less have your soul and heart zapped with what felt like electricity.

With a determined mind, you slowly approached him. Eyes taking in his pretty features in. From his starry eyes, to his kissable lips, and that sensitive heart of his. You figured it was the only way to get him to react. So you sank down to your knees and indeed you sucked his pretty brains out that night until all those negative feelings went out his body.

 The both of you stumbled into the back of his car, the sensation of his lips numbing your senses already. Little hitches of breath could be heard from the both of you as your lips pressed against him, fingers becoming tangled in that mop of hair of his. Your heartbeat was beating erratically at the simple touch of his hands finding your bare skin. The pad of his fingertips raised goosebumps wherever he touched. However Jungkook was more focused on getting his very pretty baby undressed and well taken care of already. He couldn’t wait until you were moaning and trembling afterwards.

His touch was electric, setting your soul, mind, and heart on fire.

The feeling of his hands hitching your skirt over your thighs emitted a soft moan from your lips. Your body was already arching up, pressing yourself against his to feel him even more as your hands wandered down his muscled and firmed back. A man with a million dollar smile, muscly body and piercings, and a heart made out of gold had ruined you the moment he had pranced into your life the way he did. He fucked you good and thoroughly against his hallway and now he was about to fuck you good and thoroughly in the backseat of his car, again.

His lips trailed down your skin, leaving hot, and open mouth kisses in his wake.  His fingers were digging into your flesh, marking you up into a colorful canvas. You felt his breathing increase and you were sure your cheeks were flushed as he shoved his hand between your legs, spreading them to his liking. The sensations intensified as he smugly ran his index finger down your poorly covered cunt. A moan slipped from your swollen lips, thighs trying to find friction against his jeans as you began to rut against him.

“My poor baby,” Jungkook cooed out, tsking at you as you tried bringing him up to kiss him again. He placed his mouth on your navel, pressing gentle kisses as he softly chuckled to himself. You were being impatient as usual, but honestly he didn’t blame you. He had grown accustomed to you getting what you wanted, whenever the hell you wanted it. 

“Mine,” he pressed his mouth inside your thigh, fingers tickling your skin. He dragged his lips lower to where you were aching for him to touch you. “Definitely all mine, right baby?”

“Jungkook fucking touch me already, goddamn it,” you said with utter frustration. 

His dark gaze landed on you, pierced eyebrow raising. “All mine,” he slowly began to drawl out, beginning to back away from you. “Right?”

“Yes,” you cried out, giving in way too easily. You were all laid out in front of him, top bundled up right beneath your breast, and the only thing covering your aching core was the lace that he adored so much. You stretched out your arms, trying to keep him close to you. 

“Whatever my baby wants,” he grinned before pressing a kiss to your already sensitive nub. Not even seconds later he was delving his tongue inside your folds, mouth beginning to slurp your juices on his tongue as you moaned loudly inside his damn car. Your breath hitched, legs restless as Jungkook sucked on your clit, fingers zigzagging their way into your slick covered cunt. He moaned as your legs quivered underneath his hold.

“Already cumming?” he cooed and as your eyes met his, he slowly lapped up his tongue against your cunt until your delicate fingers were tugging at his scalp, eyes seeing stars.

Whenever he ate you out, his fingers were a delicacy. He had you seeing stars, planets, shooting stars, and everything and above. He even knew it since his smug grin was grandiose as your legs quivered in delight. After a few moments, your heaving chest slowed down to its normal state and only then did he began to crawl over you, fingers tracing all the way from your ankle to your sensitive thighs. Jungkook loved watching the way you easily reacted to his mere touch. Just the way he caressed your skin made tiny goosebumps raise, and the way you were glancing at him reassured him that only he could ever touch you like this. Only he could ever have you like this, sprawl underneath him with parted, swollen lips, and heart eyes. 

He relied all of his weight on to his forearms as he kissed you dizzy again. He parted your legs with his thigh and had you enveloped him in your embrace as his mouth numbed you senseless. His breathing and yours became one as your parted lips moaned out his name. 

“Wanna make you feel good too,” you mumbled against his lips, hands shoving him back on to the seat as you maneuvered your way between the carpeted floor of his car. With a snap of your fingers, you gestured for him to get rid of his jeans completely. 

“Eager, baby?” He teased you and you rolled your eyes. 

“No,” you decided, mischievous eyes taking him in as you sank down on your knees, all prettily for him. Your teasing fingers trailed up his thighs, mouth following afterwards. Your hot breath ghosted his sensitive skin and you knew Jungkook was already anticipating this as he shakily inhaled. 

You kissed his pretty and muscly thighs, and the sharp intake of breath he took in as soon as you did that did not go unnoticed by you. So of course, you flattened out your tongue and slowly lapped away until you were nearing his harden cock. With dribbled spit, you covered his cock, hands wrapping around the base of it. A hiss left his mouth at the feeling of your hands around his cock, eyes rapidly coming to a close. As you grinned, you could feel the pulse in his big, veiny, and angry red cock. You were already salivating to have him in your mouth.

“My baby gonna suck me dry right, mhm?” He was smiling all cheekily with that pretty and lazy smile of his. He began to stretch, arms crossing at the back of his neck, and you just watched at how his biceps flexed at the simple movement. His eyes fluttered to an open, fervent gaze landing on you. He seemed to be in a really good mood lately, always smiling and grabbing at whatever part of your body he could in that instant and you just wanted to kindly reciprocate this electrifying feeling he has been igniting inside of you.

God, you were so enamored by this man that just the sight of him smiling at you weakened you down to your knees, literally.

Hollowing your cheeks, you bobbed your head down to take his cock inside your mouth without a second thought. He groaned, spreading his thighs further apart as you prettily glanced up at him with your mouth full of his cock through your lashes.

“Always so good to me, huh?” He glanced down at you, darkened eyes completely hooded. “Taking my cock into your dirty whore of a mouth.”

You hummed in agreement, tongue dipping into the slit of the head. A soft moan slipped from his lips, mouth slightly ajar. God, this was your favorite part of the night. When Jungkook became this restless and desperate of a mess for his release. He typically lost control and was quick in indulging into his sins, which in this case was just you. He bit back a moan, fingers curling at his sides.

“Gukk,” you moaned out and he whimpered at the sensations your mouth was giving him so easily.

“Fuck,” he grunted out before he slowly began to buck into your mouth, fingers gripping at the edge of his seat. “I know,” he was bucking into your mouth, fingers tugging at the base of your hair so desperately. “you can take more.”

You eased your throat, tears already at the brink of your watery eyes. He was thrusting into your mouth, fingers tangling themselves into your already matted hair. He threw his head back, mouth letting out breathy pants in pleasure. All you could do was dig your nails into his warm skin, taking him all in your mouth just like he loved to every single fucking time. It wasn’t until he slowed down that your tongue lapped the underside of his cock with each stroke and you puckered your mouth, sucking him bone dry until he was incoherently panting out, “There, oh fuck, fuck.”

He was fumbling with his words, uttering out filthy praises in return. “My baby, s-so good to me, right?”

“Mhm,” you keened, tears brimming your eyes. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Jungkook vehemently moaned out at the sight in front of him. You were so sloppy with him and fuck that’s just how he fucking loved it. “You gonna swallow what I give you.” He headily barked out at you and you simply nodded rather happily like, trying to have all of him inside your mouth. 

With one last suck, his hips stuttered and thick ropes of cum spurted inside your mouth. You proudly took everything in, grinning madly at the man undone before you. 

“Fuck, baby,” he panted out, laughing towards the end at how reckless he could become with just your mouth sucking his brains out. You felt his fingers disentangle from your hair and he began patting his thigh, gesturing for you to come back on your reserved seat. Frankly, his mouth was your throne if you wanted, but right now as you slowly neared him, hooking a leg over his leg you were more than content. 

“Ride me, baby.” He sinfully purred into your mouth. You could feel the brushing movement of his lips against yours. “I know you wanna milk my cock until your cumming on to my thighs.”

Yes, that’s precisely what you wanted.

You were already climbing over him. With a teasing pace, you slowly grinded yourself against his harden cock, moaning softly from feeling the curve of his tip sliding into your slick, coated cunt. His hands were splayed all over your back, just watching you with hooded eyes and a devilish grin. Your fingers were beginning to get matted in your hair as you sank down until his cock was buried completely inside of you.

“Oh my god,” you shakily breathed in, mewling softly against the crook of his neck. Soft pants emitted from your lips as you tentatively rose and slammed down again. He let out a groan, his bottom lip caught between his pearly, white teeth. Your movements were slow and teasing as you rolled your hips, getting lost in the sensation your pussy was feeling. Jungkook was quickly unraveling at your touch. His greedy hands were tugging at your hair, tongue tracing the underside of your cheek, followed by his mouth ghosting over.

“I missed you so much,” he hotly confessed against your lips, biting and nipping at your lip in such desperation. He began controlling your movements, his urgent hands grabbing your ass to grip the meaty flesh in the palm of his hand. He grinded upwards into you, soft grunts emitting from his pretty and pink lips.

Your voice hitched, moans becoming soft mewls as he guided you to sink back down against his thick, and veiny cock. He slammed you down and you could barely hold yourself together at this point.

“Right there?”

“Yes, ngh, yes,” you whimpered out, fingers digging into his biceps. “Guk, please fuck me.”

“But I love seeing my baby ride me.” He whispered in your ear, his hot and heavy breathing fanning you. “I love hearing your little whimpers, you moaning out my name, and milking my cock like the slut you are.”

You were pressed up against him, the both of you coated with sweat and your moans mixing with his. His face was pressed against your chin while your arms were wrapped around his neck, fingers tugging at his matted and damped waves of hair that covered his eyes. 

“Pussy full of my cock,” he growled in your ear, his hands tugging at your hair rather desperately. His thighs and arms underneath you were clenching and bulging with each simple movement he made. 

His tongue ran a stripe against the base of your neck, his reddened lips sucking your sweet skin afterwards until a pinkish, purple hue covered your skin. You spread your thighs further, hips rolling downward until your thighs had begun to quiver from the intensity. Jungkook’s heavy breathing ghosted over your sensitive skin. His hands encased your back, lips sucking on your sweet skin, and leaving behind in his wake love bites adorning your skin.

He simply pushed you off him, hands coming around your waist to flip you over, face down, ass up ready for him. He spread your cheeks apart, slowly burying himself into you again. You pressed back against him as he slammed from behind you, hand gripping the back of your thigh to keep you in place.

“Oh my god,” you moaned out against the seat, fingers gripping the cushion quite harshly. He was already fucking into you, his cock sliding right in since you were already dripping between your thighs. “Oh, mfuck,” you hitched out, your voice becoming hysteric at this point. 

 “I’m close, so close, close,” you incoherently mewled out, lips muffled by how hard he was pounding into you. The only thing you could hear was the sound of heavy breathing, and the squelching of how his cock was slamming into your tight and wet cunt. 

You felt your forehead press against the leather seats, eyes screwing shut as you felt the familiar heat pool in your lower abdomen. “Jungkook m’close, soclose, so fucking clo--” you headily cried out as he kept slamming into you, grunting as his hips met your ass. 

He bruised you up as he grinded up to you entirely until you felt like you couldn’t breathe anymore. In that moment, Jungkook grabbed a hold of your hand and slammed it against the seat above your head. His fingers curled with yours as his hips stammered against yours and his hold tightened around yours as his movements became more sloppy. 

“M’close, baby,” he groaned out against your ear, bodies practically coated with perspiration.  “Cum with me.”

You twisted halfway, meeting him with a messy and teeth clashing kiss. You hummed against his lips and Jungkook looked so fucked out in that moment. Half lidded eyes, mouth slightly parted, and damp hair matted against his melanin skin. He came moaning against your mouth and as he turned you to face him, he gave a few more thrusts, fingers digging into your hips until your legs began quivering and your orgasm shattered you completely. 

“Oh fuck me,” you breathed out, grinning madly as he kissed you, enveloping you in his strong arms. You curled yourself into his side, trying to grab a hold of your breathing in silence. 

“Filled you up pretty well, eh baby?” he smirked, dark gaze landing on your thighs as he watched his cum spill down your thighs, decorating your skin so prettily.

“I thought you said you wanted a hit?” you humored out and Jungkook cupped your cheeks in his hands. 

“I didn’t clarify a hit of what, or who really,” he responded breathily and you puckered your lips up even more. Complying, he gave you a tiny peck before slowly releasing you. 

“Wanna go for some soju and ramen?” He asked you, arms stretching over his head as he stretched what he could really. There wasn’t much space in his Mercedes Benz. Your eyes followed the ripples of muscles and tattoos that adorned his tanned and built body in awe.  

You nodded as you leaned over to open his console, knowing his rolled blunt would probably be in there. There was two actually, but you knew that would be used after you both arrived home together. As you gathered everything, Jungkook had grabbed some napkins and began cleaning you up. He grabbed a hold of his shirt and simply uttered out, “Up.”

To which you placed the blunt in between your lips and your arms over your head. He was gentle as he slowly slid his tee on you, trying to miss the blunt in your mouth as he covered your body with his shirt. With his finger, he bopped your nose rather adoringly and you were quick in lighting the blunt, sending him a lovesick smile in appreciation in return.

“I like the sound of that, you know?”  you said as you dragged out your hit, blowing out the smoke directly on his face. He patted his thigh once again. Unfortunately, his pretty cock was no longer free, but rather covered to your displeasure. However, you were more than happy to climb back on to your reserved seat. You placed yourself in between his thighs instead, back against his shirtless chest. 

As you inhaled, with one hand you started running your fingers through his hair, tugging him down to meet your lips. The blunt was in one hand as you kissed him slowly, tongue tracing the underside of his lips. Smoke blew out, engulfing the both of you as you giggled against his mouth. 

“I’m just wondering how you managed to let me into your life.” He quietly began, watching you take another hit from his blunt. You felt tingles course throughout your body. Heart was beating a little faster and a little harder as he glanced at you with those doe eyes that held your universe and world in them. 

“You fucked me so good, what can I say?” you teased, but in reality you were on the verge of falling recklessly in love with him. The thought had frightened you at one point, but now as he wrapped his arms around your waist, lips whispering sweet nothings on to your skin, it only emphasized your feelings for him.

Smoke caressed your skin as you felt him nuzzle into the crook of your neck, muttering out, “Ditto, baby.”

[darknessisafriend]

Can I request y/n and Joaquin at the oscars since he just won, please? :) 💕

I LOVE SO MUCH ANON

OMG his speech was to damn beautiful and moving, I’m so proud of him and he and Rooney were just so cute together *_* 

Disclaimer: this is a work of fiction inspired by what we see of these people, I do not claim to know them nor to establish this work as the truth about their personal lives, the realities might be completely different.

River would be so proud

Today was the big day; the day where Joaquin was going to be officially recognized for his work. You knew your boyfriend was going to win, he was receiving so much support from the critics, fellow actors and the internet that you were sure of it; and to be honest, you were probably among his biggest fans and you thought he should have won an Oscar for Gladiator already and even more for Walk the line.  

As for your boyfriend, he didn´t really believe he would win and as the ceremony got closer, his anxiety rose, you knew how uncomfortable he felt and you wished you could take that away; he was pacing in the living room fixing his cufflinks.

“I don't see why I would win when the others did such amazing performances...look at Adam he was so fuckin´ heartbreaking!” he maintained, you stopped him, encircling your arms around his waist.

“Rain was right when she said you had such a strong inner critic.” you smiled as you stood on your toes to kiss his lips, he laughed at your comment and closed again the gap between your mouths, his kiss was tender, loving, you open your mouth to let his tongue in, gently caressing yours; as you ran out of air, you rested your forehead against his, smiling happily.  

“I suddenly feel like staying here tonight...” he flirted against your lips, you chuckled, opening your eyes to look at him tenderly.

“Let’s save that for the after party, it will be even better...” you suggested on the same tone before separating from him, the driver was already waiting outside.  

Joaquin sighed as the car approached the red carpet, it was going to be a long night. Joaquin came out first and walked to the other side of the car to open to you, your eyes met briefly, encouraging each other; as soon as you got out of the car the flashes of the photographs bombarded you, of course they wanted a picture of the Oscars favorite with his date, this was probably the phase you hated the most, for at least 30 minutes you both will have to pose and smile while getting blinded by all those flashes, and you were also uncomfortable with being taken in picture. You felt Joaquin´s hand around your waist, at least you were close to him, you also rested your hand on his back, gently rubbing circles to soothe him as you both posed for more photos.

“I can´t wait for this to be over...” he muttered as you walked towards the entrance of the theatre, you laughed.

“And I can´t wait to sit down, those heels are so damn uncomfortable.” you added smiling at the journalists, you were so used to wear sneakers that heels always became a torture after a few minutes.  

You finally arrived inside and went to your assigned seats which were close the stage, in case Joaquin would win; you sighed pleased to be seated and far from all those flashes. You looked at your boyfriend and entwinned your fingers with his, he gave you a trembling smile, you understood his nervousness.

“It will be alright” you told him, and it was the truth, in any case it will be alright; if he wins his speech will be thoughtful and altruistic as always and if he doesn´t win then nothing will change, not his talent, his career or your love for him. You felt him squeeze your hand in response.

“Thank you, for being here with me.” he cooed looking at you enamored.  

The ceremony finally started and you were having a good time, each presenter was entertaining the performances were truly beautiful and positive, it reminded you of those at the Bafta´s.  

Until it was finally, the moment to announce the winner of the Oscar for Best Actor performance. You felt nervousness built in your chest, you wanted him to win; Joaquin didn´t move, as if he was frozen on his seat in anticipation. Olivia Colman entered on stage, holding the envelop, you actually felt like your heart was going to exploded in your chest as she spoke and made jokes, the suspense was just unbearable.

“And the Oscar goes to...Joaquin Phoenix for Joker.” she finally announced, the pressure suddenly lifted from your chest, you felt like jumping and cheering in the whole room, you excitedly looked at your lover, he couldn’t believe he had actually won, and you knew that secretly he felt blessed by such honor; you gave his arm a squeeze to encourage him as he had to go on stage.

He quickly got up and headed to the micro on stage, he took the famous statuette in his hands, you pinched your lips together, your heart swollen with happiness, gosh you were so proud of him. The audience was clapping and cheering ready to give him a long standing ovation.

“No, stop.” he started, you knew he hated to be praised like that, and standing in front of so many people could only add more to his anxiety right now.

“God I’m full of so much gratitude right now...” he spoke his voice shaking, all the adrenaline pumping through his veins as he acknowledged his fellow nominees.

“But the greatest gift that it’s been giving me, and many of us in this room is the opportunity to use our voice for the voiceless” he paused, his voice slightly trembling with the emotion of the moment, you didn’t know what he planned to say in his speech, he had decided to think about it all by himself and keep it as honest as he could.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about some of the distressing issues that we have been facing collectively and I think at times we feel or may to feel that we champion different causes but for me I see commonality, I think whatever we’re talking about gender inequality or racism or queer rights or indigenous rights or animal rights we’re talking about the fight against injustice...”  you nodded; he was right.

“We’re talking about the fight against the belief that one nation, one people, one race, one gender or one species has the right to dominate, control and use and exploit another with impunity” he continued with conviction, you couldn’t help but join the audience in their applause, he was so right, he always had such peaceful and loving approach, preferring to join forces rather than confront points of views that were in the end similar in their struggle, his speech was truly beautiful, covering so much of the current fights but also praising the beauty of humanity; this was the real Joaquin, always so honest and caring, you couldn’t stop smiling.

Then he paused, his eyes searched the room, there was something more he wanted to add, and somehow you felt his emotions and understood that he was going to talk about his brother River, you knew it was still something very hard to talk about for him.

“I just...I want to...” you felt tears coming to your eyes as he struggled to speak, you could see on the giant screen the tears in his eyes “when...when he was seventeen Riv...my brother wrote this lyric, he said run to the rescue with love and peace will follow; thank you.” he finished on the verge of tears, you blinked yours away, he had managed to say it even though it was very hard for him.

As soon as he disappeared backstage, you got up and headed there to, you couldn´t wait to congratulate him and above all you wanted to hold him in your arms, he had been so brave, so strong to stand for what he believes in but also to talk about his dear brother.

You finally saw him among all the people backstage, he looked lost in his thoughts, until he noticed someone coming in his direction and the second he recognized you, he closed the gap between the two of you, almost collapsing in your arms, he embraced you tightly, your hand went up to caress his curls, you could feel his heart beating fast against your chest.

“I´m so proud of you Joaquin, I´m so happy, you deserve it, truly” you murmured in his ear between the kisses you placed on his jaw.  

“I miss him so much.” he gulped against your skin. You felt his tears wet your skin, he was crying, so you kept holding him in your arms, gently rubbing circles against his back until his cries calmed down, he lifted his head, meeting your eyes, he was so grateful to have you by his side.  

“River would be so proud of you, I´m sure he´s up there celebrating with a big smile on his face” you told your boyfriend, looking at him deep in the eyes, his eyes were wet but full of happiness, and a smile started to form on his lips.

“With all this shit I´m famished now” he joked trying to lighten the mood, drying his cheeks with his palm, you gave him a loving kiss, caressing his cheek.

“Well, that´s great because I´ve heard they made delicious vegan burgers” you winked before taking his hand to head to get them, the both of you happily laughing and eager the continue the night with his family.

Joaquin lovers list:  @oneeightysecond   @arcticmonkais    @amourtiara @sirianfromsixties         @sweetness-doesnt-touch-my-face   @live-love-loki   @lyoongx  @skaravile   @jaylovesbats @niniitha-ah @cumberbitching @dirrtyginger @valentina15                                                                                                               

[adelindschade]

The One where Miroku breaks Bro-Code - or where poor Izayoi suffers his pitch. (Time Travel Headcanon/AU!)

Look... It just occurred to me, because Time Travel is just, meh, to the whole Inuyasha Universe - anything can happen, right? 

So let’s humor the idea of Sango and Miroku being yeeted like 200-sum years back and Miroku, of course, up to his extra ass ways, and Sango working their shared brain cell to overdrive because he’s looking at all the pretty ladies - 

LOW AND BEHOLD, HE SEES A VERY PRETTY, VERY FANCY LADY and he hits her with the usual. Sango ain’t impressed. 

“What a great beauty you are! We are truly blessed - perhaps even fated - to meet in such strange parts...” 

She’s fuming and ready to knock him on the head when she feels a tug. One look down and she’s PANICKED because there is no way, absolute shit if this white haired, dog eared kid AIN’T A SPITTING IMAGE OF THEIR INUYASHA BUT TINY AF AND A PUPPY FACED BB - KAY? AIN’T NO WAY, NO FUCKING COINCIDENCE - YEP. 

Internally, she’s squealing because HE CUTE; He’s just a wee puppy faced kid and she just wants to grab him and cuddle which makes her laugh hard because iTS INUYASHA (She is saving this for later, you bet your ass she is!!) To the point she’s so enamored and beguiled by this yet-to-be-corrupted-no-at-all-sarcastic-sweet-angel-of-little-Inuyasha-which-she-will-120%-use-to-embarass-his-hundred-some-year-old-later that she forgets Miroku is basically proposition this pretty lady from afar. 

“Are you lost, Inu- kid?” she quickly corrects herself because OF COURSE he doesn’t know her (yet) and she is NOT going to be the one to fuck up the timeline. Conceal panic. Hide your face. Smooth, Sango, smoooothh. 

(He’s so polite!! and shy!! And she wants to laugh-cry because WHERE is this Inuyasha in the future?!?!) Hell, she gets away with patting his hair and stroking his fuzzy little ears (KAGOME - OMG - YOU’RE RIGHT!! LUCKY B- GIRL, NO WONDER YOU DO THIS ALL THE TIME!) and he lets her because well... she’s being nice to him and not many people are... so he humors the night, kind, strange lady obsessed with his ears. 

“Is he your friend?” Inuyasha finally gets to ask because he’d seen Sango look at Miroku - and even he’s not dense enough to know the man is dead meat. 

“Barely,” Sango growls. 

“Do either of you know mommy?” bb Inuyasha points to the poor woman kindly listening to Miroku’s rehearsed speed. 

“M-m-mommy???” She squeaks. It’s pitiful, really, and all facade of coolness has been OBLITERATED. “T-t-that’s your mommy??” 

Inuyasha nods. 

“Miroku...” She slammers but hey - retrospect - oh shit! The sheer power of this moment alone to hold over his head for AGES - yes, hmm, tuck away for later, hmm-mm, good, good... 

“Sango, Oh, I almost forgot...” Miroku freezes upon sight when she approaches. He should anticipate pain but her ashen face tells a different kind of fright to behold. 

“I am honored but I could not impose on my son...” the sweet woman - oh God, Inuyasha’s mom!! - began. She’s a lot more patient than Sango - a literal saint - which HOW THE HELL, INUYASHA, HOW ARE YOU RELATED?? DO YOU NOT HEED YOUR MOTHER’S GOOD INFLUENCE?? - cool it, Sango, not time nor place... save for later.... 

“Son...?” Miroku repeats like a dumbass that he is.  “Yes, my child, which I see has made your acquaintance. Thank you for keeping him company. I saw you earlier. You are very kind,” she greets Sango warmly. Inuyasha patters to her side, ball in hand. 

“Son...?!?!” Miroku shrinks upon recognizing the flow of white hair and dog ears. Inuyasha has yet to turn around but the eerily red robe is too much of a coincidence for him to ignore. 

Inuyasha looks over his shoulder, unimpressed. Miroku is WHITE to the face. Like his soul is departed and Sango is grimly ENTERTAINED by the idea of Miroku mortified at the realization he just proposition Inuyasha’s mother and Sango witnessed the entire thing. 

“And his name...?” Miroku whimpered because by chance, some meek little chance, it could not be the case. 

“Inuyasha,” Izayoi bowed respectively. She envelopes the boy, stroking his face. “He takes after his father.” 

Miroku is like DEAD on sigh - Sango has to drag his petrified self away after a proper departure from the ‘strangers’. 

Sango is LIVING for this moment. Straight up snickering. Plotting 120% the entire way back.

“Let’s agree that’d it be in everyone’s interest Inuyasha remain ignorant of this encounter,” Miroku declares. 

“Why would I do that?” Sango sang, hastening her speed. 

“Sango,” he pleaded. “Please!” 

“Hmm. I wonder how’d he react. I believe Kagome did say he was a bit of a momma’s boy,” she added, full on cheesing. Like her grin takes up her entire face. She is eating this all up.

“Let’s not spoil his mood,” Miroku is clearly shaking. 

“I wonder if he’ll remember this encounter, or if I bring it up...” 

“YOU WILL DO NO SUCH THING.” 

“Oh, but it’s in the past, right? RIGHT?!” Sango hangs over his head. “It’d be a SHAME IF IT CAME UP AGAIN!” 

[dudeandduchess]

Your writings are honestly so fun to read XD its like watching a tv series instead cause I can visualise it so easily! Can I request an nsfw iguro obanai x female reader? I really liked the scenario of the one where rengoku proposed to (y/n) and them getting married so I'd really love to read something like that again ^-^ thank you so much for your hard work.

Ahh thank you so much!  I’m so flattered that you think my works are easy to visualise!  And of course bby, you definitely can. Hope you like it! I’m sorry if this one is a bit angsty tho; I’ve been so tired as of late that I can’t muster up any fluffy content. :(

***

Iguro Obanai x F!Reader: Proposal (NSFW Scenario)

“If you’re going to stay, you may as well make yourself useful,” Iguro snapped irately as his heterochromatic eyes flitted over his lounging lover. She had barged into his home as if she owned it, and he could blame no one but himself for his current predicament.

It was all because of his stupid mouth that she had started treating his home as hers; and was also the reason why she kept urging him to pop the certain question that she’d long been waiting for.

Of course, she kept pushing him in not so many words; which grated on his nerves even more.

But kicking her out was beneath him. He might have been a bastard, but he wasn’t that much of a bastard.

From her place on Iguro’s futon, (Y/n) popped another slice of pear into her mouth, before quirking an eyebrow at her lover. “I’m already being useful, Obanai. I’m warming the futon for you.”

The Snake Hashira rolled his eyes so hard at that, that he thought his irises would never return to their proper places. Her response was so straightforward and so uniquely (Y/n); it made him wonder why he had even fallen for a woman such as her?

She was easy on the eyes, yes, but her attitude left a lot to desire. She was stubborn and childish without even trying, and she was also hotheaded like him. So he wondered once more: why in the world was he with her?

And, as if she knew where his thoughts had gone, (Y/n) sat upright and sent him a beaming smile; one so warm and genuine that he swore that he could feel the sun shining down on him.

Right. He initially fell for her because of that smile.

And the rest… well, he also came to love those little quirks of hers.

He just didn’t appreciate it when she turned her mouth against him. Yes, he loved it when she sucked on his cock, but having her spout such nonsense from those same sinful lips was something he considered a double-edged sword.

He couldn’t have one without the other.

“No, you wench-“ Iguro couldn’t even finish his sentence, because (Y/n) immediately cut him off.

“Watch your mouth, Obanai. Unless you want to be celibate for the rest of your life.”

Not one to be outdone, Iguro quirked his own eyebrows at (Y/n), then spouted the most ill-thought comeback his brain had ever formulated, “How can we have children if I’m going to be celibate?”

At that, (Y/n)’s thunderous expression instantly morphed into excitement. She even sat upright — which caused her to knock her plate of pears onto the tatami floor. “Children?! Are you implying what I think you’re implying?”

Wide-eyed and confused, the Snake Hashira nervously gulped, before averting his gaze from his ecstatic lover.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to marry her; his reluctance was all because he still hadn’t asked her mother for her blessing on his intended proposal.

Case in point: he may have been a bastard, but he still had respect for traditions.

“W- What the hell are you saying?” Iguro stammered, all while trying to wrack his brain for possible outs for the shit he had just started.

“Children? MARRIAGE? The thing couples do after being together for a long time? The ceremony that gives me the right to half of your property, and vice versa?” Even to her own ears, (Y/n) sounded incredulous and mildly miffed.

“I wasn’t implying anything, (Y/n).” As soon as the words left Iguro’s mouth, he instantly regretted them. Hell, he wanted to be mute so badly at that moment.

(Y/n)’s eyes widened in a mix of shock and anger, as her eyebrows furrowed together. All the while, her mouth set itself into a deep scowl that Iguro was sure would frighten even Kibutsuji himself. She looked so thunderous that it didn’t take him long to know, that he had to tread carefully if he still wanted to live.

Or if he still wanted to have (Y/n) as his lover.

“So you don’t intend on marrying me? Not at all, Obanai?”

The raven-haired man didn’t move a muscle. And that was the worst decision he had ever made, because (Y/n)’s crestfallen expression was enough to make his chest tighten with guilt.

“Get out,” The young woman whispered softly.

“But this is my-”

“I SAID GET OUT!”

“Why are you even so mad?”

Silence answered Iguro’s question, which made his guilt fester even more at his chest. And when he saw the first glimmer of a tear on (Y/n)’s cheek, he knew he’d fucked up.

It was either he ruined the surprise and told her everything, or he ruined their relationship and singlehandedly pushed six years down the drain.

Of course, he chose the lesser of two evils; not compliantly, of course.

“You idiot. I wanted to ask you after I talked to your mother.” Heterochromatic irises flitted skittishly to and from (Y/n), as she tried to wipe her tears with the backs of her hands.

Sure enough, that got her attention.

So, Iguro continued, “I didn’t want to ask you without her blessing-“

Abruptly, before he could even brace himself for the impact, (Y/n) threw her arms around him and practically tackled him to the floor. He landed on his ass in a somewhat upright position, only to get pinned down by his lover.

(Y/n)’s dainty hands were pressed roughly against his shoulders, before she lifted the left one and pulled down the bandages around his mouth.

“You’re the idiot.” Her words made no sense, but Iguro couldn’t refute them, as she leaned down and claimed his lips in a harsh kiss. She even went as far as to bite down on his bottom lip, which effectively fried a couple more of her lover’s brain cells.

Abruptly, (Y/n) made quick work of his clothes; insistently grabbing at the cloth and hastily unbuttoning the garment from his body.

Normally, she wasn’t that… eager, but Iguro could feel her happiness, and the faint traces of her anger in her movements, so he let her have her way with him.

“You’re a gods-damned idiot!” (Y/n) slurred at him, and he was about to hurl a sarcastic remark back at her, when he finally realized that she still had tears streaming down her face.

And instantly, all the fight left him at that sight.

He’d knowingly hurt her without thinking what the full extent of his words could do to her; and, dare he admit it, he felt like the lowest form of scum.

“I… (Y/n)…” Iguro whispered quietly. He couldn’t even muster up the tone to speak properly, because his guilt weighed on him that heavily. Hell, he couldn’t even get himself to apologize properly.

So, he did the next best thing…

He lifted his hands up and cupped her wet cheeks, then proceeded to wipe her tears away with the pads of his thumbs. And, in a move so tenderly affectionate, he pulled her down to his face and gently pressed his lips to hers.

(Y/n), despite the heaviness in her chest, succumbed to him entirely. She pliantly opened her mouth to his imploring tongue, and when the first real taste of him hit her, she practically melted against him.

Both of them were so enamored in each other that they didn’t notice that Kaburamaru had slithered away to give them privacy.

And before both of them knew it, they were rid of their clothes, with (Y/n) still straddling Iguro’s hips.

And with her hands anchored firmly to her lover’s chest, she slid down a few inches and rubbed the Snake Hashira’s erect cock between her wet folds.

A groan ripped free from Obanai’s lips, as his eyes screwed themselves shut in bliss. She already felt so amazing against him; he couldn’t wait to feel her tight walls clenching around him.

The pair was silent as they moved against each other’s bodies; insistent hands wandering every so often to tease and caress. Iguro, in particular, let his hands linger on (Y/n)’s breasts— pinching her nipples between his fingers, and playing with them to elicit quiet moans from her.

While (Y/n) dug her nails into her lover’s skin, to leave red crescent-shaped marks along the pale canvas. Every time she left her marks on him, he would let out pleasured sounds that were a cross between a hiss and a moan; which didn’t fail to make the short woman smug.

And with a testy smile on her face, (Y/n) lifted her hips up and slipped Iguro’s erection inside her waiting cunt. He filled her so nicely that she had to stop to keep herself from already cumming.

When the imminence of her orgasm subsided, the (h/c) haired woman began to move once more; working her lover’s cock so pleasurably that he had no choice but to close his eyes and grip her hips tightly.

They stayed like that for a while; with (Y/n) getting particularly rough when she felt herself on the precipice of her orgasm.

She angled her hips differently so she could hit that one spot inside her.

And after that, it didn’t take long for her cunt to tighten around Obanai’s cock. Her walls pulsed around him, which added to his pleasure.

He could taste the first vestiges of his release coming, but when he felt (Y/n) slide off of him, his eyes snapped open in a mix of disbelief and mild irritation.

“What the fuck?”

“You don’t get to cum, Obanai. You made me cry.”

“I said I was going to marry you, wasn’t I?” The Snake Hashira protested.

(Y/n), with a playful smile playing at her lips, answered, “Really? You never said those words.”

That was it for Iguro. He just wanted to cum, damn it, so he swallowed his pride and popped the damned question— as if it was the magic words she had been waiting for, “Will you marry me? That’s a yes, right? Now make me fucking cum.”

A laugh escaped the young woman’s lips at that, and she shook her head as she got down on all fours to take her lover’s cock in her mouth.

She then made him cum… all night long.

NOTE: Hello, everyone! I am so sorry for just getting to your requests now. I still have four pending in my ask, and still have Chapter 2 of “Love Her” to finish today, but I’m just so tired from my “son”’s birthday party. So I think I’ll just post it tomorrow. And when I say “son”, I mean my 1 year-old French Bulldog. Thank you for being very patient with me!

[boogiewrites]

Choking On Sapphires 91

Characters: Alfie Solomons x Genevieve (OFC)

Title & Song: Golden Hour

Summary: Alfie and Genevieve head home together after her bat mitvah and his marriage proposal. The past isn't the only thing they put to bed that night. - Song is Golden Hour by Kacey Musgraves

Warnings/Tags: FLUFF. Sexual Content.

Click on my icon then go to my Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. (Had to do this since Tumblr killed links, sorry.) Please like, comment and reblog if you enjoyed it! It helps out us writers A LOT!

Genevieve stood in the room full of flowers that Alfie had given a new reason to love, for the remainder of the night. The staff broke down the rest of her bat mitzvah behind her but she paid them no mind. Now alone, she drank deeply of the scene before her to carry the portrait in her mind long after she had to leave. With everything but her lovely sanctuary now tidied, she had to say goodbye but held onto all the inspiration she needed to paint it later with the aid of the soft-focus memory and romanticizing lent.

“Perhaps I should’ve brought you your own canvas.” Alfie muses as he approaches with warm hands to her shoulders.

“I’ll never forget this. Even if I tried. No need to worry, the lense of remembrance compared to reality always makes for an interesting interpretation.” Her eyes finally tear away from the view to meet the eyes of her fiancé.

“With a mind that forms opinions like that and a mouth as lovely to speak em, how did I go so long without askin’ you to be my wife?” He gives her a well-intentioned smirk and raises her chin for a brief kiss. One with a glad proudness to it for his good fortune and decision to seal the contract of a lifetime.

“Because we’re both stubborn as mules.” She arches one brow high in an honest and only slightly sarcastic response. “Overachievers who want the best and yet are smart enough to know that perfection, an ideal, isn’t realistic, yet we chase it.”

“Keep talkin' like ya and we’ll be given ‘ese lads a show right here in the floor, love.” He whispers with the same playfulness her smirk lends him, giving her a cheeky wink that causes his favorite laughter to erupt from her painted lips.

“I’d much prefer the comfort of our bed and so would your knees.” A pleased smile graves her mouth that smiles at him softly with no judgment, only an intimate knowledge of the things he preferred to whine about come morning. “Shall we go home, Alfie darling?” A sweet suggestion laid upon him just like her hands to his chest.

“Whatever it is Mrs. Solomons wants, she gets, innit?” He plants a whiskered kiss on her confident smile, a pleased hum emanating from her throat.

“It’s been that way for some time now, Mr. Solomons. Have you not been paying attention?” She asks playfully as she pulls away and turns, looking back at him over her shoulder.

“Ya little minx. Callin’ me ‘ats gonna make an old man feel some things.” He gives a stern brow with his tone, but it covered giving eyes and amused lips she could read better than anyone else.

“You are my old man now.” She reaches back for his hand. “You may not be young, but the night is, there’s plenty left for both of us to feel lots of things.”

———————

He spoke softly in her ear, lips pressed to the soft skin by her sentimental teardrop sapphire earrings that swayed as they pulled into the long drive up to their home. In the darkness, they said very little with words, a closeness that hasn’t required them for some time swells and encapsulates them both in the passing moonbeams as they study one another like new lovers. They arrive home late, after their friends and family but they are all smart enough to leave them be after a night like this one. His hands never leave her body, gentle and strong to assist her out of the car, up the stairs and through doors as he acts like a gent and clears a path for her the way to their bedroom.

The newly proclaimed future Mrs. Solomons walked aimlessly as her betrothed started removing layers to achieve the level of comfort he preferred to have in his own quarters. She watches him, a case study of masculine self-assurance with his lean, functional muscles that were never showy and made for and from hard work. With no one to witness, she sips her champagne flute of water and swoons to herself as his face shows an Alfie Solomons only she gets to know. A lack of fine lines of intimidation and anger, a soft fullness to a relaxed mouth that felt no need to mumble and mutter for the sake of making those around him wonder if the visible signs of anger would be lashed out at them next. He was tired, bless him, she knew him well enough to know one eye would close more than the other when he was feeling sleepy. A tell that she believed only she knew of him. Just as she knew he had the tendency to stare over his glasses at her when he thought she wasn’t paying attention, a look very similar to sleep but not so, in his blue eyes that she recalled with fondness and no real anxiety now. His eyes give him away every time for her, and it was suited as they were windows to his soul, and they would share one very soon.

It was an intimacy she no longer feared, this side of her incident fear had no real place in her life any longer. She’d seen death and faced it, beat it into submission and said not today. She knew herself, her strengths, her weaknesses and how to play them and those around her. She would never again let a man scare her, for any reason. She would never bend to them with a seductress approach. There would be no more sexualization of herself for work, she didn’t need it now. That was child’s play and she was a woman. She would be a wife, she would be a mother, God granting, and there was a power in that no one could take away. Alfie had seen that in her, and thus he was the only one who would see that side of her again.

“Alfie darling,” She asks with an inquisitive exhale.

“Yeah, love?” He says as he looks across the room to see her fingers toying with the jewelry she wore. Her newest gift caught the light like a vision, the sound of precious jewels and metals clinking and sliding across her olive skin, once again warm and tan from the sun of summertime.

“Would you like to assist me in readying for bed?” Her eyes were soft but dark, her sultry tone sent warmth into his belly as he sat up at attention and watched her with her hand wrapped around the large sapphire pendant, moving her chest much to the delight of his more unevolved needs. The full swell of her hips, a newly rounded and soft body from age, injury and indulgence in her love of cooking are prominent as her hand rests on her hip. A touch of attitude as she welcomes him to touch her.

There had been a clear line between them. One he did not mind now and respected, despite his own body growing restless some nights as he watched her disrobe. His twitching fingers always warned him of the incoming swell of his cock. His hands missed touching her, feeling her soft under them as he removed her armor of stones and sequins to reveal the pink and imperfect woman beneath. It was a process he found so erotic, so intimate he’d never indulged in it before he was with her. He’d paid plenty of girls for plenty of things but never the intimate act of undressing a woman, of caring for her to relax and ease her at the end of a long day. He saw her opening up to him, offering that sanctity of the near-religious ritual for them both again. He’d not wanted to insult her, to suggest she couldn’t do anything on her own so he had stopped initiating the process. But he saw his respect had earned him a place in her heart and in her bed once again.

“Oh pet,” his voice soothing and deep as he rose in his silken pajamas, the top still unbuttoned as his hand rubbed the fluff that covered his chest in a gesture to show his thanks. He watches the smile bloom across her face, a softness to the round cheeks and dark lashes only he could create with his words and he relishes in it as he approaches. Her body language opens, arms to her sides as his hand slides to the small of her back.

“I know you’ve missed it.” She only has to speak softly for him to hear so close as his height makes her fall into his shadow.

“I have. I have.” He nods with a masculine tone from his chest that warms her.

“Would you like to start with the jewels? Or leave them for last?” The tease in her smile makes him hum happily and lean down to kiss her. “Or perhaps not remove them at all?” Her nose wrinkles as a quiet, brief laugh erupts and his smile turns gentle, eyes crinkled at the edges with amusement for her.

“Cheeky bugger.” He scolds playfully. “Where’s this woman been, eh? She has been reborn from the ashes of her former self? A fuckin’ Phoenix that is. I’ve seen this strong, resilient and powerful one with her dagger eyes and stone face now for so long in the place of the former. But I’d be fuckin lyin’ if I claimed to not be enamored by her as well.”

“This woman is only for you now. No one else deserves her… this side of me now. Only you.” The vulnerability in her voice was clear, and soft exhale as she savors the feeling of his skin against hers in such a way again. A burn and chill deep in her body as the flames inside died and a new woman was born for the purpose of their physical affections. One with a still raw sensitivity to touch, ones whose wounds were closed but still pink and tender just like her body was for him.

“Few things could make me as happy, love.” He whispers as he presses a kiss to her cheek and lingers. “Shall I?” He offers with a mood-setting drag of his strong nose against her jaw that sent a quivering jolt down her neck and veining out into her extremities.

“You shall.” She nods slowly. “Ready your little wife for bed.” She suggests breathily, quickly answered with a deep territorial grunt from him she sighs wistfully and smiles. The heat between them no longer from their spatial relations but from a reigniting of a long-dormant ember that had refused to die they both shared.

“Fuck me, it sounds even better when you say it, love.” His coarse voice drags across her skin as he keeps close, her deep perfume with hints of lavender that was so distinctly her fills his nostrils as he kisses his way across the crown of her head to stand behind her. “I’ve thought of you as mine for so long. Seems like it’s been this way for years now, yeah?”

“It’s hardly been years we’ve known each other.” She remarks with raised brows, watching their reflection in the mirror in front of her.

“We’ve been through enough for two lifetimes already.” His brows match hers in their expressiveness. A silent confession that it had all felt too much for a time.

“Perhaps we had it easy in a past life. And perhaps this trip will assure our next one together will once again be simpler than we are now.”

“It’s a lovely sentiment.” He says with a clear tone of disbelief.

“But not very likely yes?” She gives him a light-hearted smile that told him she was still firmly Grounded.

“Not fuckin’ likely.” He nods as he continues gathering her hair after removing the combs. His hands were far gentler than any time before with her. No rush to his movements or words, only a sense of duty and patience for his other half he was displaying fully. “Ya know...before ya were sick,” He begins delicately. “You would’ve insisted on your correctness and that I was a stubborn arse who had no imagination.” A smile crosses his face and a laugh he doesn’t expect bubbles up from her chest as he works on taking off her jewelry.

“It was another time. I was different. Now we’re both jaded.” She shrugs. “Both stubborn, hateful things now.” she frowns and he reads the clear playful nature of her honest observations.

“Always been stubborn love.”

“We BOTH have always been and always will be.” She corrects with a pointed finger. “But now we are both on the same page.” She exhales with a pleasant expression. “All my whimsy is tied to you now, my love.” She gives a single nod to him in punctuation as he meets her eyes in the mirror. “Although I could never rightly claim you have no imagination. After tonight in the museum I would especially be eating my words.”

“What a giving observation.” He thanks her with a kiss to her shoulder as he unpins her earrings, Everything being gently laid in the gilded tray on her vanity. “But it was you what gave me the idea, right?”

Her head tilts in question at his words.

“Ya might not recall, but when I brought you back home and you were on your medicine,” the ease with which they spoke of it now was a blessing. With the air clear between them on the events that followed her abduction and her strong arming herself to overcome her own anxieties, not left with a choice but to be successful as a woman in the world she lived in, their communication was more transparent than ever. “You would stay up in your studio and paint. I’d leave ya with a canvas on the wall and I’d come back to retrieve you and the paintings would be all over the wall around the little square.”

“I only recall staring at lillies.” She answers quietly, a hint of shame still when she spoke of it.

“You were paintin’ your little hiding place at that time, yeah? You would talk to ya self when I didn’t announce myself. And you’d say things… very similar to your musing tonight actually, about the barrier not being real and that. The hindrance of artistic freedom you would say. Your water Lilies would cover those walls. And they were lovely. Soft and fuzzy, much like you at the time.” He adds with another affectionate kiss to her hand and forearm, stroking it gently and looking at the sapphires that weighed down her delicate wrists.

He recalls those wrists being injured and bruised and useless. Now only pink scars as reminders, her fingers healed and now a tiny bit crooked looking in the absence of her rings. They’d healed and he found the comparison of his memory of her injuries to be a perfect match for how their relationship had evolved.

“It was unconventional but I did like the avant-garde approach. The dreamy state of you spilling out into reality what where it was only in Ya head before.” His brows knit and he very slowly and hesitantly removes the heavy bracelet. “I wanted that for you tonight, love. I wanted to show you in my way that anything in that enthralling mind of yours is possible.”

“Even a beautiful proposal from the man I love.” She takes a deep breath and shuts her eyes as he kisses up her arm. “After all the ugliness we’ve endured. The parts of me I’ve had to let go of to survive,” She speaks calmly but as always, her self reflection is something he greatly admires. “Once again you’ve changed my view on love and what it truly is.” She keeps her eyes closed as his kisses land on her cheek.

“Ya fuckin brilliant Chanah.” He whispers “I can only agree and say the same of you. Didn’t think women like you fuckin’ existed. Certainly didn’t fink I’d even love someone as I do you, neshama sheli.”

“Ani ohev otkha.” She replies softly as he exhales onto the bend of her neck.

“Ani ohev otkha.” He wraps his arms around her and holds her tightly. Maybe it was that she was speaking Hebrew with a tongue that sounded like it was born to do so. A woman worthy of being held higher than others. It could be the emotions wrapped up in the long overdue events of the night that led him to have such feelings. “Chanah…” He begins with a kind tone, his cheek pressed against her hair. She hums quietly in response, hands gently rubbing over his forearms. “We don’t have to do this.” He says with a less amorous tone.

Her eyes flutter open in surprise. “Do what? Get married?” She asks with an offended tone as she turned quickly in his arms.

“Fuck no love! This the…” He motions with his hand between their bodies. “We don’t have to be physical like this. This feels like its leading to bed and I don’t want you feelin' like you have to just cause-“

She puts her fingers over his plush lips and chuckles. “Oh, Ari.” She sighs, shaking her head at him as if he were a child. “To be so intelligent you certainly can be a fool.” She moves to hold his cheeks.

“What the fuck ya on about?” He gruffs out.

“I want you to listen carefully. Because I mean what I am about to say.” She gives a nod of her chin his way. “I will never again do something for a man that I don’t want to. And that includes you.” She adds with a gentle pat of his face. “That includes any wifely duties.” She kisses his lips as she watches his face turn into a look of understanding. “Although it is you who has the obligation to me.” She grins and bops his nose before pushing his hair back affectionately.

“I just know it’s… delicate for ya pet.” He adds softly with a tone that only makes her more sure of her want of him.

“It is. Was.” She waves her hands dismissively. “But I will not let that fear rule me or my actions. I love you, and I love expressing that affection physically. Tonight has made me feel warm and safe and full in a way that astounds me. I know you would never hurt me in this way. I know you are a wealth of understanding for me and I’m not afraid of it anymore. Not when it’s with you.”

“Ya sure? Is there no part that wants to wait? Until the wedding? Keep these acts of tradition going?”

“Is it something you want?” Her eyes narrow as she studies him.

“Don’t make a fuckin difference to me, love. You’ve been me wife in my mind for a while now. Nothin done between us can be seen as wrong as I see it.”

“You have, have you?”

“From ages ago.” He answers dramatically. From that night you came over to me house after Paris, yeah? And you forgave my sorry arse for up 'n leavin'. For being such a bellend and thinkin' you weren’t the best fing to happen to a bastard like me. But I knew ya were then. And the night you were taken…” his voice slows and moves to a deeper, less showy inflection. He pulls her against him, kissing her for a long moment to make up for lost time like he’d wanted to for months now and all those nights she’d been missing. "That gift I gave you tonight had been gatherin' dust for months now. Had it polished to where you could see your reflection in it that night, I did. Had flowers, a plan…”

“Then I had to go and fuck it all up.”

The humor behind her words surprises him but makes him smile at the dark honesty of it. “Yeah, ya did.” He caresses his nose against hers and they both share a laugh for a brief moment.

“I had no idea that night. Or this. Always full of surprises, you are.” She wrinkles her nose at him affectionately.

“Just have to get ya distracted is all.” He mutters to make it sound less impressive than it was.

“And modest.”

“Only when it comes to you. I fuckin know betta. You’ll put me in my place.”

“And so perceptive.” She kisses him softly. “I would’ve said yes then, same as now. We are only stronger now, more resilient than before yes? Had to earn it. We can’t take each other for granted. We won’t now.”

“Never. Every day I have you I am acutely aware that it could be the last. I’ll promise it now to ya, yeah. For granted is somethin' I’ll never take ya. Even if I’m not around, or I’m being a right cunt. Know that I know, right”

“You are somehow more charming to me now than ever.” She snickers.

“Thank fuck for at because if not I’d have nothin goin' for me.” He remarks loudly and they fall into a breathy laugh that turns into a kiss.

“I am so looking forward to being your wife.” She admits openly after a moment of resting their heads together. “In the meantime how’s about we pretend hmmm? Finish readying me for bed and join me. I want to be yours tonight.”

“Whatever you want my lovely, missus.” He coos with less cheeky boy and more experienced man to his body language as his hands moved to unbutton each silken circle down her back with patience.

The soft curve of her nape is revealed, a kiss to the rounded bone visible there. She allows herself to melt when his lips touch her. Each button was undone, another kiss down her back between her shoulder blades. His hands are rough on the peaks of his palms and fingertips, but soft to the touch on her buttery skin as the shoulders of the gown fall easily and he wraps his hands around her to untie the waist.

It didn’t take long for it to occur to him as he watched her in the mirror that she wasn’t wearing a bra. “What sort of good little Jewish girl goes without her pants at her own bat mitzvah?” He teases.

“I do have knickers on.” She defends herself. “The dress was so tight I didn’t need one.” She explains.

“Fuckin' ell ya ain’t lyin', love.” He dotes as his hand rub the pink marks around her waist from the tight dress, falling to the floor and proving her statement about her pants true. “Why ya wear it if it hurts you? Leavin' ya with marks.”

“I hardly notice anymore.” She shrugs.

“Let your husband take care of these. Can’t have a wife go to bed like this. What sort of man would I be?”

“The sort I wouldn’t marry.” She teases as he grins against her skin, whiskers twitching and tickling.

“And you are mine. So I betta take care of this. Here. Step out of these, let me free you up. Certainly not an excuse to see this heavenly vessel move about.” He kisses her bare shoulder as his hands ran over her hips and her silk lingerie joins the dress where they’ll stay until morning. “Fuckin hell you are gorgeous.” He groans into her collar bones as his hand wanders freely. “This is alright, yeah?” He questions with concern in her ear.

“Perfectly so.” She strokes the side of his face for his consideration. “If it’s not, I will tell you. Promise. I want you, without editing, give me my Ari back tonight and let me be his.” Her poetic words still make him feel warm from the inside out. A suspended reality when they were together where he was a man who deserved such things. The air hit his skin as they kissed and moved together in a lover's dance toward the bed, her pushing his loose shirt off on the way.

A long, naked snog under the covers takes away everything else that could be holding them back from one another. There was no past in this moment that she surrendered to. There was nothing to remind her of her time in that dark room there. There was never love, security, Respect or passion like this. This wasn’t what had happened to her she realized. She’d been connecting the wrong ideas. What had happened to her wasn’t sex. But neither was this. This was making love and between two consenting adults who were committed to one another and bound by something fierce that neither could rationally explain. They let go of their hardened and logistic minds together, neither wanting to explain what they felt with words any longer. They only wanted to lose themselves in whatever seemingly unexplained connection they felt after feeling so separate for so long.

He touched her as if she might break, but not out of fear of doing so, but from adoration. His patience coming through with his mouth at worship of every part of her. She was soft and full like a goddess in a renaissance painting. She was built for love and life he thought, feeling her full thighs around his head. He buried himself in the lavender-scented garden between her legs and ate and drank the nectar of her. This would be the first time she let go for him that night.

The next was sudden, distracted by the bunching of sheets around them, her limbs wrapped around the strong body of the man she took her power back with. She had only requested his mouth to never leave her when he asked what she needed of him. Nothing else mattered. She craved the closeness, the intimacy of skin to skin and the smells and tactile sensations of their joining. His muscles moved with years of knowledge behind them as her hands grasped at them. The sweat from the act itself, their bodies so immersed and exhausted their skin wept, the smells of masculine and feminine mixing into something that could never be replicated by anyone else.

He had slowly and without remark opened her and pleased her to allow him inside without pain. Keeping his promise to never hurt her. The longest lovemaking session they’d ever had led her to be so aroused her skin flushed at its surface and glistened with beads of sweat as they moved. Her nipples hard and aching, same as her clit that felt the rush of blood from her racing heart. He used every bit of himself to soothe her as he brought out the side of herself she’d been suppressing in fear. He stroked and pet every piece to make her mind quiet and her body softens, he reminded her why she loved this before, and why she would once again.

She would never silence herself for any man in or out of bed and she practices this vow in full. Her cries up at the canopy, into his fussed hair or muffled by his shoulder as she sucked away at him, they always reached his ears and made him ache for the time they’d lost. He had missed her. The sex had always been great between them, but now it was about more than that. A way for two people who made their living with words and violence to leave it behind as if who they were outside of each other was shed like a snakes skin before they joined in bed. Both leaving their hard selves outside the bedroom door and letting the real raw versions come out only for one another. There were no words needed, those cried out were their given names and called out in pleasure and praise.

There was no parting as they finished, a way to keep it holy by not wasting a drop as he stayed inside her and kissed every bead of sweat from her face, tasting her salty sweetness. As his arms shake she directs him to her chest, ordering him to rest. There was nothing amiss with him shielding her from the outside world like this, connected as one even as they slept. It almost felt like the closing of a chapter for them, a period to end the long winter they’d faced together. But it couldn’t be truly so, as their stories had only merged. Becoming a single tale to recall in legend years after they were gone. Yes, it was only the beginning for them, for as joyous as it was for them, some would be against the pairing in a way just as impassioned as they were.

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[therovingstar]

Dusty Corners

Summary: Never did he imagine he would have to build a house for his wife to live in, but there is a romance to it that he cannot deny. The two of them making a home, together, one dusty corner at a time. <2500 words, Hien Rijin x WoL, domestic fluff, humor, and a sprinkling of spice.

&&&

“I hope you are aware that half the staff is complaining about there being nothing to do.”

Hien watches amusedly as she pauses, her hand freezing mid-swipe, her head tilting in that way that tells him she’s thinking. “The other half is worried that their work is somehow inadequate,” he continues.

She remains still for half a moment more before her hand resumes its task of wiping the baseboards. “Liar,” she says bluntly. “I spoke to them.”

Hien chuckles and approaches from the other end of the large hall, empty but for yellow shafts of sunlight shining through paper-screened windows, highlighting recently-lain floorboards and dancing dust particles. She pays him little heed until he stops a mere two fulms away and crouches, his bare feet no doubt seen from her periphery. This time when she pauses, she looks up to acknowledge him.

Kami damn him but he’ll never tire of seeing that face. Even hidden as it is from the nose down with a white cloth. He smiles.

“What is it?” Odzaya asks, and his gaze goes to the thick pink eyebrow that rises in question of the slightly dazed look on his face. He merely smiles more widely, and finally, she abandons her work to lift a hand and pull the white cloth covering her mouth down. One corner of her full lips is quirked in curiosity like her brow.

“Do you have any idea how this looks?” he asks, indicating the cloth, the abandoned towel stained gray with dirt, and her place on the floor. “The queen of Doma, cleaning her own palace?”

That expressive eyebrow rises higher, as does the corner of her mouth. “I imagine the same way it looks to see the king of Doma outside rebuilding it?” Sitting back on her heels, Odzaya raises the same hand that lowered the cloth on her face to his, then higher, into his still-damp hair. It comes back into his sight shortly afterward, where he sees, trapped between the nails of her thumb and forefinger, a small splinter of wood. Most like it found its way there by way of one of the logs he’d hoisted onto his shoulders to transfer to the section of the castle stalls they’d been working on. He thought he’d successfully rid himself of the evidence.

Clearly, he hadn’t.

“You were saying?” She tilts her head further, and the smirk is full-blown now. He is distinctly reminded of those afternoons the Enclave guard convince her to spar with them; she mops the floor with them, naturally, and as she humbly bows before their laughing, panting forms strewn about the training grounds, there is always a victory-fueled sparkle in her dark eyes, a small smile that reveals her enjoyment.

Hien sighs, knowing there is little he can do to deny his hypocrisy. “A fair point,” he concedes, then reaches out his hands. With a curious look, Odzaya slowly places her own in the cradle of his palms, and follows as he brings them both to their feet. “But you could at least work with the staff, yes?” he suggests with a beseeching look.

“‘Tis not as if I don’t have experience, Hien,” she lightly argues, accepting his touch as he runs a hand over the bandana holding her locs back from her face; the lack of her usual bangs reveals the white-scaled diadem framing her forehead, and he smiles at the rare sight of it. “I spent a year keeping the halls of Kugane Castle spotless, if you recall.”

“Kami forbid I ever forget that the legendary hero of the East and West used to be a maid,” he jokes. “And occasional courtesan.” Odzaya snorts delicately.

“Of course you’d remember that part.”

“Of course,” he agrees wholeheartedly, and leans down to press a kiss against the large center scale of her crown. “Blessed were those who had the privilege of enjoying your no doubt delightful company.”

“Mm,” she intones, obviously in disagreement. When he leans back, she watches him with slightly narrowed eyes. “Is that what you would have me do instead, then? Dress up, paint my face, and serve you sake?”

The abrupt imagery temporarily stuns him. Too many a time has he gazed upon the woman before him and thought he’d never seen her more beautiful. At the climax of the Naadam, lit from below by the golden light of the ovoo. That same night, seated on a boulder of her make, framed by the stars as they bonded over shared dreams. Against the pitch-black and bloodstains of the Ghimlyt Dark, a single beacon of hope against the Empire’s advance.

The morning after their first night together, robed in nothing but quilts and the cloak of his arms, her dark skin supple and sweet against the harsh shine of dawn’s light.

All precious moments, every one. And yet there is nothing, he thinks, quite like the sight of her standing before him, clothed in her and his peoples’ finest, a vision of colored silks and furs, her hair curled and looped and adorned with jewels and blooms, her eyes seemingly aglow as her painted lips declared her intention to remain with him the rest of her days.

Three months they’ve been married, and still the thought of her that day steals him of breath. Even now, as she looks up at him questioningly, he wonders what it would be like to see her in some semblance of that make once more.

Odzaya’s brow suddenly dips. “My gods, you’re considering it.” And the utter judgment in her tone brings him not only spiraling back to the present but into a fit of laughter as he uses his hold on her hands to pull her into his embrace.

“As if you can blame me!” Hien exclaims, planting another, firmer kiss to her forehead, then another to her scaled cheek.

“I can,” she insists, squirming halfheartedly. “I am.”

“Mmm,” he intones happily. “If you only had my memories, you would not be so quick to judge.”

“I’m afraid to ask,” she says, and slips herself out of his arms faster than he can think to attain a firmer hold. Before he knows it, she’s back on her knees, cloth over her nose and towel in hand. “Off with you,” she dismisses him easily, already returning to her wiping. “While you revel in fantasies that will never happen, I’ll be finishing these baseboards.”

Ouch. He grins at her backside. “You’re getting rid of me?”

“You made your case,” she says, “then promptly lost it. Try again later, if you wish. Preferably when I’m done.”

Gods, but she does have a mouth, however much she may deny it. Hien grins wider, hopelessly charmed. “How about this?” he begins, and kneels beside her once more. He looks around a moment before spotting the small pile of her cleaning supplies, and nabs another cloth. “How about I help you?”

Odzaya pauses once more, eyeing him. “You’ve already bathed,” gesturing to his clean robes and the low, tied-off tail of his hair. He shrugs.

“And I can again.” He gives her another beseeching look. “Consider it an apology for my hypocrisy.”

She huffs a laugh at that; he can see it in the sudden crinkling of her eyes as she shakes her head. “Fine,” she concedes, and points to the other end of the hall, apparently still teeming with dust. “Start there, if you would. We’ll meet in the middle.”

“Aye, ma’am,” he says, securing another cloth to his face, and then they fall into a companionable silence as the work resumes.

It is good work, he thinks, wiping his boards ‘til they gleam with gloss. Honest work, work that is messy but also blessedly clean. There is no need for blades or magic, no blood, no impending sense of danger or constant fear for loss of life. Perhaps that is why he seeks it out. With the Enclave a bustling, ever-growing hub once more, they’ve finally set their sights on repairing the palace, and doubtless, there is a special sense of fulfillment that comes with re-laying the foundation of his home with his own hands, brick by brick, beam by beam.

Something special, too, he knows, taking a momentary break, in sharing that duty with a loved one. His gaze finds Odzaya as if by habit, her own attentions still occupied, and he smiles. Never did he imagine he would have to build a house for his wife to live in, but there is a romance to it that he cannot deny. The two of them making a home, one wooden beam – or dusty corner – at a time.

His heart grows full, and remains that way as they steadily shuffle their way to one another. By the time they meet in their middle, it is fit to bursting, so enamored is he with her focus, with the dedication she gives to every inch of board, with the way she takes her face close to make sure the shine of the wood is true, heedless of the way it sticks her rear high into the air, her spiked tail flicking with satisfaction when she decides she can move on. Finally, after nearly a bell in silence, she settles back on her thighs and pulls the cloth from her face. “There,” she breathes with a victorious smile. She looks at him, poised right next to him, as she predicted. “All do-”

He claims her lips before she can finish the word, his body drawn to hers as if by orbit. One of his hands finds her face, cupping her cheek. The other finds her hip, her waist, splays its fingers on the small of her back under her braided locs, and pulls her into him in return. The noise she makes is quiet and surprised, her fingers rising to and clasping his shoulders; he can feel one hand still gripping her towel reflexively. Softening his kiss, he shifts his palm from her cheek to the back of her head, stroking his fingers across the fanned tips of her horns along the way, and revels when she shudders at the sensation. She sighs and he swallows the sound, and all at once her form melts into his hold, her mouth opening with the tender coax of his tongue along the seam of her lips. The towel drops from her hand with a muffled plop to the floor and her arms encircle his shoulders, his neck, her fingers choosing instead to find purchase in his hair, joyfully tangling in black strands.

“Hien…” she whispers in the single breath that they part, and he opens his eyes to see hers aglow, darkest violet ringed with pink fire.

“My dearest,” he answers in low tones, trailing kisses along her jaw, her cheek, the center crest on her forehead and the smaller one on the bridge of her nose. “Wondrous wife.” He swallows her sigh again, this one heavier, catching on the end with a whimper that warms him through and through. Her fingers tighten in his hair, a gentle but insistent tug that makes his breath hitch.

Odzaya murmurs something between them, an attempt nearly lost around the dance of their tongues. “Mm?” he utters on their next breath, lost to his senses as he angles his lips back to her jaw and this time downward, seeking to mouth the intricate plates decorating her neck.

“Hien,” she gasps, and the sound of the his name is so intoxicating to his ears that he cannot help but listen.

“Yes,” he breathes in answer. “Yes, my star?”

She whimpers a second time. “You missed a spot.”

“Mmm,” he replies, placing an open-mouthed kiss to the skin near her collarbone, his fingers itching to loosen the clothing at her neck and reveal more for his eyes and lips…

And then her words register. Hien pauses, his breath puffing hotly on her collar, and leans back to meet her gaze. Odzaya’s eyes still glisten – as do her lips – though this time, there is a definite humor in their depths, fighting for supremacy with the heat. Her smile, when he acknowledges it as well, is just this side of impish.

“I what?” he asks, and she actually removes one of her hands from his hair and points to a spot over his shoulder.

“Over there, near the doorway.”

He succeeds – just barely – at keeping his mouth from falling open, and turns his head to see the corner she is indicating. He turns back shortly after. “Are you serious?” he asks.

“You said you would help me,” she explains, and toys with the stray strands of his hair hanging over his forehead. Her smile widens, and the kittenish nature of it matures into full-blown coeurl. “I have expectations.”

“Of course you do,” he says, sighing himself for now entirely different reasons, and leans down to rest his head against hers. “You are a harsh taskmistress, my star,” he comments, smirking as the lit furnace between them dwindles down to warm embers.

“You knew this already,” she excuses, and relaxes back into his arms. By way of his eagerness, she is practically in his lap, and she makes herself comfortable, a deep hum of contentment coming from her throat as she absently rubs their foreheads together, the tender friction of her scales against his skin making him chuckle. Her fingers find his ears, gently cupping and rubbing as if they were horns. He laughs again, and coaxes her into another kiss.

“I did,” he agrees.

“You will fix your corner, then?” she presses.

“If you bathe with me afterward,” he extends. He grins. “To ensure I do not overlook any more damning evidence.”

“A king who cannot properly clean a floor or his person is very worrying, Hien,” Odzaya replies, her brow rising with a skepticism that belies the way her eyes and body warm at his invitation. Hien responds with another rub of their foreheads together, and a hand that travels innocuously from her back to her rear, softly squeezing until she sucks in a breath and her tail curls.

“‘Tis good I have a queen so competent, then, yes?” he breathes. “She has already proven she can do both.”

“Corner first,” she insists, pressing closer despite her assertion. His grin turns toothy.

“You have my word,” he promises, and slowly lowers them both to the gleaming floor of their home. “Every. Spot.”

[lokesh2434-blog]

Wedding wishes for brother and sister

Sisters are the valuable blessings by GOD and they truly fill our lives with hues and bliss. It's dependably an extraordinary time to go through with them. They're adorable to the point that the affection between a sibling and sister is very significantly more than anything. In any case, at some point, they're must be settled with their accomplices and that is their excellent destiny. It's really a pleased minute for each sibling when his sister gets hitched and settles up with her existence with a fresh start. Thus, it's an ideal opportunity to discover wonderful words to wish sister on their marriage. These wonderful marriage wants for sister are without a doubt going to give you the best plans to pick valuable words to wish them.

1 ) My sweet little princess has at long last discovered her Mr. Perfect. You've captivated all of us with your grin my dear sister. I wish your fondest dreams would work out as expected.

2 ) As you venture out a paramount adventure, you abandon affectionate recollections and laughs aplenty. Your sweet grin that has topped off our days thus much love that we couldn't have requested more. Continue spreading daylight, love and satisfaction my dearest sister. Heartiest congrats on your wedding.

3 ) Glad wedded life my dear sister. You will be a great spouse simply the manner in which you were a stunning little girl, brilliant sister and cute companion.

4 ) My dearest sister. Congrats on wedding the man you adore to such an extent. Both of you look immaculate and frantically enamored with one another.

5 ) Your big day will travel every which way, however may your adoration everlastingly develop.

6 ) Congrats to my closest companion and dear sister. Adore you my dear sister.

7 ) Made for one another are both of you, A beautiful wedding wishes are here for brother by marriage and you!!! Upbeat wedding commemoration!!!

8 ) Numerous desires will come your direction, Yet pick the best one, which everlastingly will remain!!! Glad wedding commemoration!!!

9 ) I see genuine trust inside you and your significant other, Wish joy in your life is copious!!! Glad wedding commemoration!!! Look at

10 ) Wishes after wishes I wish for you, And an upbeat wedding commemoration to both of you!!! Upbeat wedding commemoration!!!

Astounding Marriage Wants For Sister And Marriage Statements

11 ) You gladly praise your marriage day, Since now a faultless woman, with a total man, is going to remain!!! Glad wedding commemoration!!!

12 ) An affectionate dream is working out and I trust and ask that a lot more dreams and wishes will currently become animated. Warm wishes for a splendid and prosperous future my dearest sister.

13 ) All the best on this superb adventure, as you assemble your new lives together.

14 ) My underhanded younger sibling is strolling down the passageway and however I'm going to shed tears of happiness for some time; I wish you miles of grin.

15 ) My sweetheart sister is altogether grown up and dressed as a lady of the hour. Such an extraordinary minute, that I will recollect for a lifetime. Congrats my dearest sister.

16 ) Begin another part of your existence with gifts and great wishes. Congrats my charming dearest best sister.

17 ) My dearest sister and friend, I am glad to the point that you have discovered your Mr Right who makes you feel so uncommon. You will dependably remain my valuable sweet sister with whom I have shared my fondest dreams. Remain favored and be glad dependably.

18 ) My all the best and gifts will dependably be with you my infant sister. Cherish you parts. Expectation you have an upbeat hitched life.

19 ) Genuine is your adoration as is your marriage, There is nobody, about this who could criticize!!! Cheerful wedding commemoration!!!

20 ) Here is a cheer for the wonderful lady of the hour and attractive husband to be, from everybody here in the room. How about we celebrate on this extraordinary day! May the majority of the satisfaction will be setting down deep roots!

More....

[the-most-beautiful-broom]

"I love you but you need to shut up"

Ashleigh!! Sooo I had to change the wording a bit…you’ll see why when I get to it haha it just seemed to harsh. This was another first (domestic!bellarke woohoo) and I hope you like it!

No. 26: “I love you, but you need to shut up” (send me an otp prompt?)

According to the clock on her bedside table, Clarke’s head had been on the pillow for a blessed fifty-four minutes when the wailing started again. 

Clarke blinked owlishly at it, not as much in disbelief as in hazy exhaustion. She lifted her arm to her face, pressing her elbow over her eyes, giving herself a moment longer to stay horizontal. Just as she was starting to swing her legs over the side of the bed, she felt a hand settle over her shoulder, pressing her gently back into the bed. 

“Let me take this one, yeah?” 

Bellamy’s voice was gravelly with sleep, and Clarke turned her head towards his hand, her eyes seeking out her husband in the early morning light. It was too dark for her to distinguish any of his features, but she knew them by heart anyways. “You sure?” 

“Yep.” His hand lifted from her shoulder glanced along the side of her face before the sheets lifted and the bed tilted. 

Clarke knew he couldn’t see her smile, but the corners of her mouth turned up anyways as she readjusted the sheets, rolling over to watch the baby monitor next to the clock on the nightstand.

Jordan’s face was scrunched up with the effort of her screaming, but Clarke’s smile stretched fondly as she watched her daughter. She heard the bedroom door open through the camera, and Jordan’s wailing hitched when she realized someone had come to help her. Sure enough, Bellamy crossed in the front of the camera  to bend over the crib, lifting their daughter into his arms. 

Clarke snuggled deeper into the pillow, her body relaxing as Bellamy’s low voice carried through the house. She couldn’t make out any of the words, but his voice was just as soothing to her as it was to their daughter. When Jordan’s screams quieted to a steady cry, Clarke reached over to turn up the volume on the camera.

“Hey, little princess,” Bellamy was crooning, shuffling around the room slowly, “bad dream or just lonely?”

Jordan hiccupped before drawing fresh wind and going in again. Bellamy shook his head and Clarke heard him laugh lightly.

“Where’d you get these pipes, huh? I know your mom sings to you, but I promise it sounds pretty different than what you’re doing…”

Even though Jordan couldn’t form a word on her own, she seemed to understand what Bellamy way saying, and her lip puckered slightly as she opened her mouth with renewed vigor.

“I take it back, I take it back,” Bellamy said hurriedly, but to no avail.

Clarke had to reach over to turn the monitor down again, and Jordan ramped back up. The cries seemed to echo around their house, and Clarke sighed at the ceiling.

It wasn’t like she could go back to sleep.

She slipped out of the bed, heading down the hall to Jordan’s room, pausing at the doorway to smile at the picture in front of her.

Bellamy’s back was to her, his broad shoulders were hunched as he held their daughter. He was shifting between his feet, rocking her gently, and Clarke could hear his soft voice in the breaks when Jordan paused for air.

“I love you,” he said soothingly, “but you need to hush, baby girl. Your mama’s had a long night, and if we keep this up, she won’t get any sleep at all.”

Clarke pushed away from the door. “Sleep is overrated,” she said softly, slipping a hand around Bellamy’s waist and resting her head on his upper arm.

She felt him shift as he looked down at her, regretfully. “Sorry, I thought—”

“Not your fault,” Clarke interrupted, lifting a hand to the top of Jordan’s head, to play with the soft curls resting there. Jordan’s eyes darted upwards, confused by the new hand, and her wails quieted when she recognized the touch.

Bellamy made a face. “That’s not fair.”

“We can’t all be magic, Blake,” Clarke teased lightly, raising her other arm to take Jordan. Bellamy let her go reluctantly; but he stayed close. Jordan was still making whimpering sounds, and Clarke cradled her close. “Keep talking, Bell, she likes it.”

In the dim light, she still saw his arched eyebrow. “She does, or you do?”

“Yes,” Clarke said noncommittally, crossing the room to sit in the overstuffed chair in the corner. “Come on, what’s the point of a doctorate if you don’t have a story for your two favorite girls?”

Bellamy groaned. “Well how am I supposed to say no to that?”

Clarke beamed at him as he crossed the room to the chair, perching on the armrest. She leaned back into him, her head on his chest, and his arm settled around her shoulders.

“There was once a princess,” Bellamy began, his fingers squeezing Clarke’s shoulder, “She was the goddaughter of the sun, and she saved not only her city, but the neighboring island too.”

“As every princess must try to do,” Clarke supplied, looking down at her daughter, “remember that, sweetie.”

“If she’s takes after her mother at all, she’ll have no problem remembering that,” Bellamy said dryly, and Clarke laughed.

“Okay but the princess in the story…?”

“We’ll call her Ari,” Bellamy recovered, “and her father was king of a small island. Each year, to keep the gods happy, 7 boys and 7 girls from a neighboring island had to come and fight this monster. But they never won.”

“Wait a sec,” Clarke tilted her head back to squint at him, “Ari as in Ariadne? You’re leading out with the minotaur?”

“Well now you stole the punchline,” Bellamy pouted.

“Oh, by all means, go ahead,” Clarke shook her head, “I’m terribly curious how this hunger games of a myth is your soothing bedtime story.”

“Prepare to be amazed,” he grumbled, and Clarke bit her lip to hide a smile, looking down at her daughter. Jordan was still whimpering, and her eyes showed no signs of closing soon, but she was much more quiet.

“The rules were,” Bellamy continued, “that the 14 kids had to just fight. But they were kids, so they didn’t do too well.”

“As has been the case historically,” Clarke interjected helpfully.

“Until,” Bellamy said pointedly, trudging along, “Ari came along. Ari had been watching the event each year, and one year she decided enough was enough, and she had to help. So she picked a champion. A young boy, a prince, actually. But she saved him. She gave him the special tools he’d need to beat the monster, and she told him its weaknesses. She helped him beat he labyrinth, and gave him the sword to kill the monster.”

“Happy stuff, right, Jordan?” Clarke asked seriously and Bellamy muttered something about being underappreciated. Jordan cooed sweetly though, picking up the encouragement where Clarke stopped, and Bellamy seemed placated .

“Ari and her prince were tired of the island, so they ran away, to an island in the sun.”

“Hip hip,” Clarke said helpfully, and Bellamy snorted.

“Yeah, sure. All that island-saving was pretty tiring for Ari, so she took a nap.”

“Must be nice,” Clarke muttered.

“One of these days, we’ll have to try it out,” Bellamy responded in a similar tone, and Clarke heard the smile on his voice before he continued. “But guess what happened while she was sleeping, little princess?”

Clarke shifted Jordan in her arms, lifting a hand to squeeze her cheeks and raising her voice in a pantomime. “Well, Pop, I think Ari probably realized that princes are liars and cowards?”

Bellamy chuckled. “Nice, Clarke.”

“What?” she said in faux innocence, “Not my fault our daughter understands that them’s the breaks.”

He shook his head. “Well, that’s exactly what happened. Ari woke up, and her prince was gone! He’d fled the island and left her there on her own, despite everything she’d done to help him.”

“Ergo the ‘liars and cowards’ bit,” Clarke shrugged.

“Sure, Clarke,” Bellamy said amusedly, before refocusing on their daughter. “But do you think Ari stayed on the island?”

“The island couldn’t hold her, could it, sweetie?” Clarke smiled at Jordan.

“Yeah, your mom’s right. Ari didn’t need a prince for a best friend; she found a new one. A god.”

“Do you have a kid-friendly translation of Dionysus?” Clarke asked smugly.

Bellamy stuttered a few times before shrugging. “Can we just call him Dave?”

“Ari, Princess of Crete, savior of Athens…and her buddy Dave?”

“Okay, the name’s a work in progress, sorry, J.”

“She forgives you.”

Bellamy snorted. “I was really worried there… No, but she makes a new best friend. And instead of leaving her on an island, he takes her to the stars. He offers her constellations, and he takes her far away from the tiny islands. And she becomes a god, too.”

“And they fall in love,” Clarke said softly.

Jordan’s eyes were closing, and Bellamy’s hand tightened on her shoulders.

“That’s right, they did,” he said, his voice soft, too. “She makes him happier than anyone he’s ever met, mortal or divine. He sees how beautiful she is, but also how smart, and how kind. And everyone knows it, everyone knows how out of his league she is, and how enamored with her he is, but he doesn’t care.”

Clarke tipped her head back again to look up at Bellamy, to find his eyes already on her. She shook her head at him, breaking away from his gaze to look down at their daughter. “And they live happily ever after?”

“They did. Some of the only ones among the gods to do so.”

Jordan made a gurgling sound, her eyes fluttering shut. Clarke looked up at Bellamy in wonder, before slowly standing and sliding her away across the floor to the crib. When she set Jordan down on the blankets, the girl wiggled slightly, but her breathing stayed normal. Clarke let out a short breath, her hands hovering over the crib for a moment before she turned back to Bellamy. They tiptoed out of the room, wincing at the click the door made when it shut, then shuffling down the hall.

Bellamy held out his hand, palm up, and Clarke mimed slapping down at it. She stopped her fingers just above his palm to avoid the sound a high-five would make, and instead just slipped her fingers through his, squeezing lightly.

“I stand corrected,” she whispered, following him down the hall.

“Not three words I hear often,” Bellamy whispered back, pulling her in front of him to get back to the room. She let go of him as they went around their respective sides of the bed; Clarke checked the volume on the baby monitor before sliding back under the covers.

“I meant,” Clarke said, her voice a little louder now that there were two closed doors between them and Jordan, “that it was a good story, Bell.” 

“Have to use the doctorate for something right?” he mumbled and Clarke rolled her eyes, reaching for him as he crawled onto his side of the bed.

She found his upper arm, her hands tracing down it lazily until she felt his fingers. She squeezed lightly, and he squeezed back. The house was quiet and the street outside was too; they had another hour or so before the world required they wake again.

As Clarke was drifting off to sleep, a thought occurred to her. “Hey, Bell?” she asked softly, unsure if he was asleep or not.

“Yeah,” he responded, his voice thick, but not bothered.

“Sorry,” she said all the same, before turning on her side to face him. In the darkness, she could make out his profile—the line of his nose, the dip in his chin, the fine lines of his lashes—and she nestled the side of her face into the pillow, watching him. “What about Perseus?” 

His lashes blinked open and she watched a slight indent form on his forehead as he frowned at the ceiling.

“What about him?” 

“Didn’t he kill Ariadne? With Medusa’s head?” 

The furrow of his forehead erased and Clarke watched a grin stretch across his face. She had only a moment longer to enjoy his profile before Bellamy shifted, turning on his side to face her. His free hand fell down to their still-joined hands between them, and he brought her fingers up to his face. As he brushed his lips over the top of her knuckles, she could feel his smile. 

“Remind me,” he teased gently, “that no matter how hard a time you give me about mythology, you’re actually listening to every word.” 

“Every word might be an exaggeration…” she admitted, not quite wanting to concede, before she lifted the shoulder that wasn’t pressed into the bed in a half shrug. “What can I say: you’re a nerd about your ancient Greeks, and I’m a nerd about you.”  

Bellamy laughed shortly, and she felt his exhale on her fingertips, before he kissed them again. “Well, I’m a lucky man.” 

Clarke drew in a quick breath.

Almost as soon as they’d started dating, it’d been like this between the two of them: Bellamy just saying the sweetest, simplest things with the utmost sincerity, and her heart just clenching with fullness. And no matter how many times she’d counter with a like truth, he’d see it as a compliment, not that she was the lucky one. 

“So,” Clarke said, veering back to mythology. “Perseus killed Ariadne…did you lie to our daughter about happy endings?”

Bellamy chuckled, a low rumble in his chest and Clarke felt the bed shift slightly. “Come on, have a little faith.”

“I would, but it’s kind of hard to have a happily ever after when half of your whole is a stone statue, right?”

“Ah, but Princess,” Bellamy said, one of his hands releasing hers and trailing up her arm. “What kind of god would Dionysus be, if he let a thing like death stand between him and his wife?”

Clarke shivered when his hand reached her shoulder, settling there for a moment before travelling up her neck. Bellamy’s fingers wove into the hair at the base of her neck, and she leaned her head into his touch. “What happened?”

“He couldn’t do it without her,” Bellamy’s thumb slipped up to her cheek, a gentle caress to match the soothing rhythm of his words, “The god of chaos and revelry, madness and merriment, absolutely crumbled. Ariadne was his everything. And life immortal, life without consequence, life without limits, without the woman he loved? It was empty. He stormed Hades, brought her to Olympus again, and demanded that she be made a god.”

“Oh.” Clarke’s voice was small, and Bellamy chuckled again.

“He gave her a crown,” he said softly, his hand moving from her cheek to the top of her head, thumb tracing a gentle path above her eyes, “the Corona constellation, a diadem for a goddess. She’s the keeper of labyrinths, and still a hero for anyone who is lost.”

“Sounds like a heavy crown,” Clarke mused.

“Not for Ariadne.”

“Hmm.”

“Hmm,” Bellamy parroted, before dropping his hand from her forehead and rolling back onto his back. Clarke’s hand was still held in his, and he pulled her into his side as he went. She snuggled into his chest. “Sounds like a pretty perfect happy ever after, right?”

“It’s a good story,” she admitted into his tshirt.

“I’ll let Homer know you think so,” Bellamy mumbled, his eyes closing again. Clarke flicked his side lightly, smiling when his response was to pull her closer, rather than retaliate. She was more than happy with the arrangement, wrapping her own arm around his stomach.

Yes, she should’ve been asleep hour ago. Yes, Jordan would probably wake up again before the rest of the county even thought about breakfast. And yes, she’d meant it, Dionysus and Ariadne did make a pretty good story. But this—her arms around him and his around her—this was the perfect happily ever after.  

[professortennant]

lifetimes (a jean/lucien, tdbm secret santa fic)

@lorelaigilmore​ became my adopted secret santa! em prompted “jean/lucien + i have waited for you for such a long time” and below is what i came up with. happy holidays, em and thanks for being such a huge part of our tiny fandom! your enthusiasm and energy keeps us all going!

3450 words; soulmate AU

Perhaps it sounded romantic: walking the world alone, forever twenty-five, and waiting, waiting, waiting for your soulmate. The legend went that the gods of old took pity upon the agony and suffering of mankind and promised them a soulmate, the perfect person with whom your life could be lived out and shared. So, while the humans slept, the gods descended upon them and like a warm whisper, simultaneously cursed and blessed them and every generation that followed.

You would simply turn twenty-five and stop aging until you met your soulmate. And then, as the stories told, you would feel the crackle and tingle of electricity as your lips touched theirs and your cells would come bursting to life with activity once more. Your skin cells would shed, your hair grow, cells would die and regenerate and you would age and live out the rest of your lives together: aging and in tandem.

Most found their soulmates within a few years. Soulmates, after all, were those you cried out for, the ones you grew up with, the ones you longed for. The longest someone had ever waited was fifty-three years. When Alice Harvey finally–finally–met Matthew Lawson, she just knew. As she later confessed to the reporters who hounded them, desperate for a story to lift the spirits of lonely souls everywhere: He was waiting for me and I was waiting for him. Someone had to stop waiting and go looking. 

She had traveled from New York to London to Sydney to Melbourne to Ballarat, simply following her heart straight to him. Alice, on the arm of a beaming and shellshocked Matthew, had joked, “I had all the time in the world. I could afford a little walking, a little adventure.” She held the record for “Longest Soulmate Wait” but she preferred the accolade of Matthew Lawson’s soulmate best.  

And then, stealing her record and baffling the world, Lucien Blake turned twenty-five and the world stopped turning for him for eighty-seven years.

At first, Lucien was confident, cocky. He was a good looking bloke, twenty-five, indestructible, cocky, and from a privileged home. Surely, surely his soulmate was simply around the corner, waiting for him, waiting for the best parts of their lives to being.

On the day of his twenty-fifth birthday, he kissed Monica Parker through a sure grin, confident he would feel the tingle of bursting cells, his mother’s engagement ring sat heavy in his pocket, waiting to be lifted and placed on her finger.

But the kiss, while as warm and wet and pleasurable as he could ask for, was just that: a kiss.

No tingle. No crackle. No electricity. 

He pulled away, frowning. “I’m so sorry, Monica. But I–you’re–we’re not–”

But she had put a finger to his lips, a sad smile on her face and shook her head at him. “No, we’re not.” It was the first of many disappointments in Lucien’s life, a soulmate just out of reach.

When he returned home, his father–looking older than he had in some time–simply put a heavy, comforting hand on his shoulder, eyes sad and distant. “Perhaps it’s better this way, son. Perhaps it’s better to not find her.”

Lucien stared at his father. Thomas, who had lost his soulmate so soon after finding her, who had waited and waited for years only to spend a fraction of his life with her. Perhaps his father was right–a soulmate was something that stopped you from living. You could live forever, travel everywhere, do everything. He didn’t need love, didn’t need a soulmate. 

He nodded at his father, thinking. “Perhaps.”

Upstairs in the quiet comfort of his bedroom, he slipped his mother’s engagement ring into his bedside drawer where it would remain for the next eighty-seven years. The soft click of the drawer, encasing the ring in darkness, echoed the closing of his heart. A soulmate was not for him, but life–life–was. 

The next day, he traveled to Edinburgh and began his formal medical training. Life was waiting.

For eighty-six years and six months, Lucien Blake walked the world alone. Medical school in Edinburgh, residency in London, fellowship in France. Then, onto the military, enlisting in the Army and fighting beside his fellow countrymen. At each stop along the way, he saw man after man, woman after woman, find their soulmate. 

He watched as sleek brown and blonde hair turned frizzy and gray, smooth skin turn wrinkly, and unadorned left ring fingers become encircled with bands of gold and silver and diamond and emeralds and sapphires.

But he, Lucien, remained free and young and youthful. There had been moments in which he was sure–so sure–that he had found her. Mei Lin had filled his heart with wonder and adventure and excitement. Her kisses were hot and searching and left him gasping for air, wanting nothing more than to lean back in and drink her up.

But his face remained smooth and ageless and Mei Lin kissed him soundly, murmuring against his lips that just because they weren’t soulmates didn’t mean they couldn’t have a good time.

When he made love to her, it took on a desperation that had never been there before–as if he could fuck his way into making her his soulmate. For the first time in his long, long life Lucien felt desperate and lonely. He wanted to move on to the next chapter of his life.

But that aching, hollow, empty feeling that loneliness sometimes leaves sat in his chest and his father’s words from long ago echoed in his mind: Perhaps it’s better this way. Perhaps it’s better to not find her.

And when he received the note the next morning that his father had passed away, he took it as a sign that he needed to come home, that his father had reached out and reminded him with his last breath that soulmates were for suckers.

He kissed Mei Lin goodbye and wished her good luck as he gathered his pants and shirt and shoes and headed for the airport–only his wallet and clothes in hand. The flight home had never felt so long.

Jean Beazley, his father’s housekeeper, was shockingly beautiful. A young, smooth face, curled hair, and stunning eyes that seemed to pierce through you, see into your heart and size you up before you had time to utter your name.

Her eyes were narrowed as she took in his disheveled appearance and she ignored his outstretched hand of introduction and simply stepped aside to let him in. “I know who you are,” she said, simply. And for the first time in a long time, it felt like she did know who he was–perhaps better than he knew himself.

They stood in the hallway of his childhood home, the ghost of his father hovering in the walls, and Lucien felt his heart pick up speed. Was this her? He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this pull towards someone before–as if an invisible golden thread connected them. 

As they walked to the kitchen, exchanging introductions and pleasantries, Lucien couldn’t help but notice the way they orbited one another, balanced each other. For each flick of his eyes towards her, she would turn away. For each furtive glance she snuck, he would avert his gaze. Yin and yang.

Lucien was getting ready to take a chance–one last chance–to ask if she had been waiting, too. Had she felt the pull between them? Had she been waiting as long as he had? 

The words were rising up in his throat, sticking against his tongue, about to drop from his lips, his heart beating wildly, when he saw it: a wedding ring, glinting off her finger in the dim yellow light of the Blake kitchen.

The words dried up immediately, the hope dying in his chest. 

Married.

Was he so lonely, so desperate, he was sensing connection where there wasn’t one?

He accepted the slightly shaking teacup and saucer she offered him with a smile and winked at her as he pulled out a flask from his coat pocket and added a splash of whiskey. He laughed at her shocked look and tucked the flash back in. 

“You get to be my age and you learn to enjoy the consolations of life–however few they may be.”

Jean snorted into her cup before reaching over and plucking the flask from his coat, shaking it slightly and hearing the liquid slosh about. She quirked an eyebrow at him. “There seems to be rather a lot of consolation here.” Then, to his surprise, she unscrewed the cap and added a generous splash to her own cup before handing it back to him.

They clinked their teacups together and drank deeply, Jean grimacing at the burn of whiskey. Lucien hid a smile behind his cup. 

Jean Beazley may just made it worth his while to stay in Ballarat. At least, he told himself, until he could understand this thread, this connection between them–wedding ring or no.

In the ensuing months, Lucien had never felt so frustrated, so challenged, so enamored by another human being before as he did with Jean Beazley. 

Jean–who offered nothing of her personal life–but was was there pick and hover and thread herself into his own life. Jean–who wore a wedding ring–but never spoke of her husband. Jean–who learned how he liked his tea and who woke him with a gentle touch on the back of his neck when he fell asleep over a case file. Jean–who he was starting to lean on more and more, who he was falling in love with more and more each day. Jean–who agreed to be not his housekeeper, but his partner.

It was driving him crazy. She was driving him crazy. For almost eighty-seven years, he had accepted his fate of loneliness. That perhaps there was simply no one for him. And now, with the woman he felt he could hand his heart over to, the woman who he wanted to see sprout age lines around her eyes and see her curling brown hair streaked with grey–this woman was married.

He had dared to hope and that hope had been wadded up and thrown back in his face.

So he did what he had done for his entire life: he drank it all away.

Whiskey after whiskey at the club, he downed each one of them as if the burn from the alcohol could burn away his feelings. If he could forget her, he could move on. He could continue roaming the Earth alone, forget what it felt like to want a soulmate, to want her. 

But then he remembered Jean’s soft confession from a few weeks ago, that she and her husband had wanted to travel before he fell ill; that she wanted to see the world. He would travel alone and see the wonders of the world, yes, but he would forever think of her, of Jean, and wish she was at his side, hand in his, seeing the wonder right alongside him.

The whiskey, he decided, wasn’t working. The tab paid, his vision blurring, his head fuzzy, and his heart aching in the way only alcohol could make it do, he stumbled home. Lucien wanted to fall into bed and wake up and have the strength to leave Ballarat, leave Jean.

Except, upon his rather loud and clumsy entrance into his home, he found himself face to face with an irate Jean Beazley.

He squinted at her, as if unable to believe she was there, standing in his hallway. But there she was, hands on her hips, and a glower firmly in place.

He groaned and slumped against the wall, sliding down it and looking up at her through blurry eyes. “Jean, please, just go. Can we talk about this tomorrow?”

She squatted down in front of him, hand on his arm. There it was again–that hot, electric jolt all across his skin, as if he was coming back to life after a long, long sleep. Her hand crept over his arm and up to his face, tilting his head back so she could look at him. Her fingers pushed the stray curl of hair off his forehead and she shook her head at him. 

“Oh, Lucien,” she sighed. There was something there–a sadness–to her voice that made Lucien keen, made him want to roll over and beg and plead and promise that he would do anything to make her happy again.

“What happened that you needed this?” She stood and tried to lift him, slinging his arm over her shoulders and behind her neck, and he went willingly, allowing her to lead him to the bedroom. 

His brain whirled as he processed her question and he thought how he could tell her everything, even as he tumbled into bed and she pulled his shoes off and tucked him in. It came to him then and he grabbed her arm, stopping her from leaving.

The light from the hallway cut across her face, leaving her in half shadow and Lucien wished he could see her.

“I have waited,” he started, the words thick in his throat. “Such a long time for you. Almost eighty-seven years. And then I find you and you’re–” He broke off, chuckling in that dry, flat way when all you can do is laugh in the face of misery. “And you’re married. I have waited for you and you aren’t for me at all. I just wanted you.” 

The alcohol caught up to him, then, and his eyes flickered closed and he turned over, mumbling into the pillow, “I just wanted you.”

With his back to her and his eyes closed, Lucien missed the way Jean’s face contorted, the way her fingers twisted at the thick gold band on her finger. All he knew was the heavy weight of a confession, of a burden, leaving his shoulders as he fell into a deep, alcohol-induced sleep. 

The next morning, Lucien stumbled down the hallway, the events of the previous night flooding into his mind. He half-expected to see a note of resignation from Jean on the kitchen table. Perhaps this was the sign he needed: it was time to move on. There was nothing here for him. He had ruined the one good thing he did have.

However, instead of a note, he found Jean herself at his table, the tea kettle still gently steaming on the stove and two fresh cups of tea spread out on the surface of the table. Next to his cup stood a tall glass of water and a handful of white Bex tablets. 

He took his seat beside Jean, sneaking glances at her over the rim of his teacup. With a contented sigh at the feel of the smooth tea soothing his throat and the Bex already working their magic, he slumped back in his chair, nervously tracing the rim of his cup with the tip of his finger.

Before his apology could bubble up from his lips and escape, Jean slid her wedding ring off her finger and placed it on the table between them. Lucien stared at the ring and then at Jean, mouth parted slightly.

Jean swallowed and began her tale. “I have hidden behind this ring for far too long, Lucien. I was married, yes, long ago. When Christopher and I met, he was my first love. I had never kissed another boy, had barely even touched one. My mother was old-fashioned–believed in saving myself, every part of myself–for my soulmate. When Christopher kissed me at twenty-five and slid his ring on my finger, it felt like he was my soulmate. Kissing was so nice and kissing Christopher felt right.”

Jean looked up at him then, tears stinging her eyes. “But I was so wrong, Lucien. We married and the years passed, but we never got older.”

Understanding dawned on Lucien’s face, the hope in his chest blooming once more and he leaned forward, covering Jean’s hand with his own. The crackle, the heat, of their combined touch slid up their arms and this time, like a veil had been lifted from his eyes, Lucien saw that Jean felt it, too. Jean shuddered and he tightened his grip on her. 

Jean licked her lips and continued, eyes fixed on their joined hands. “We realized we had made a mistake–that we weren’t each other’s soulmates at all. We agreed to part ways and start over. But Lucien, I felt so, so ashamed. I had been so wrong. I thought about what my soulmate–my real soulmate–would say when he learned I hadn’t waited; when he learned that I couldn’t tell the difference between a nice kiss and a soulmate’s kiss.”

She shook her head at herself, wiping a tear from beneath her eye. She gave him a watery smile. “So I moved here and pretended that my soulmate had died. It was easier this way–to just pretend. It stopped the whispers and stares and speculations. But then,” she laughed. “Then I met you.”

She peered at him from beneath damp eyelashes. “I thought maybe it was just me. But then last night…”

Jean trailed off and Lucien scooted forward, his chair scraping against the linoleum floor and his large, calloused hand cupped her cheek, thumb wiping away a stray tear. “It wasn’t just you. Oh, Jean. It wasn’t just you at all.”

He wanted to tell her about how long he had walked the world, the things he had seen, the number of times he had given up hope of ever finding her. He wanted to tell her sometimes he felt like a scared little boy, afraid to be alone in the dark and desperately wishing for a hand to hold. 

But his chest was tight and eighty-seven years of loneliness and longing seemed to be charged and electric within him and he lifted their joined hands to his lips, pressing a single solitary kiss to the place where their fingers entwined.

At the touch of his lips to her skin, both jolted as warmth and heat flooded through them. If this was what a simple kiss on the hand felt like…

Lucien traced her lips with his finger and Jean shuddered at his touch. “Please,” he croaked out. “Please let me kiss you. Please. I have waited–we–have waited so long, love.”

The endearment, the desperation, years of waiting all culminated into a single gesture: a nod. 

Lucien seemed to sink against her–into her–their joined lips a point of contact as their bodies and souls cried out together. His lips covered hers and they drowned in the feel of light and life and a new beginning crashing over them.

She gasped at the sheer electricity his touch elicited and he took the opportunity to lick into her mouth, tasting tea and honey and lemon and Jean. 

Jean’s hands anchored themselves on either side of his face, holding him to her and drinking from his lips, each kiss a fresh sip, each lave of her tongue quenching her thirst for him.

For the first time, they felt complete. For the first time, they were home.

Pulling away, breathless and happier than he had ever been in his entire life, laughter and happiness and love bubbling up from his chest, expressing itself as peppered kisses across Jean’s lips and cheeks and forehead and nose, Lucien felt everything click into place.

He pulled away, forehead resting on hers, and teased, “Do you think that was a soulmate’s kiss?”

She swatted his shoulder before grinning and pulling him closer to her by his robe’s lapel, lips slanting over his and laughing into his mouth. “Prat,” she murmured. 

Their kisses were tinged with the taste of tea, the sunlight filtered in through the kitchen window and bathed them in a warmth of light that equaled the warmth of their union. 

His father, Lucien decided was wrong. It wasn’t better to never have this, to never find this. Jean was his. 

And she was worth every second, every year, of waiting.

[hazelandglasz]

Once Every Blue Moon

Based on this glorious idea, my humble present for Jay’s birthday (yes it was yesterday but it still counts, right?)

Santana can count the rare appearances of the Drunkus Hummelus on the fingers of one hand.

But she can recount them all with crystal clear clarity, for each one of them is a blessing.

Don’t get her wrong, she loves Kurt like a brother from another mother.

But drunk Kurt? He’s her favorite.

Once she gets some alcohol in his system, Kurt Hummel’s defensive walls crumble like nachos and he’s (almost) more outgoing than her.

Especially when a certain old-fashioned cutie is in the vicinity.

Oh, to observe Kurt being enamored with Blaine like they’re only just meeting all over again is almost enough to make her tear up--thank God Mercedes always make her stop drinking when Blaine joins the party. Otherwise Santana would be a snotty sobbing mess and nobody wants to see that.

(Well.

Mercedes doesn’t seem to mind any of the different states Santana gets herself into sometimes.

Then again Mercedes is a godsend and Santana doesn’t quite know what she did in her past lives to deserve her evil angel, but kudos to her Karma)

Anyway.

When Blaine arrives, Kurt always react in the same fashion : a gasp, a shot down, and a flirt.

The way he flirts is the most entertaining part, as far as Santana is concerned.

So far she has witnessed (and recorded. For the future children the couple will have. What’s a good aunt if not a provider of shameful memories of the parental unit) :

bad puns

So bad.

Even Sam was appalled and that’s saying something.

movie quotes

The Godfather.

Of all movies, Kurt had to quote the mother effin’ Godfather to “seduce” his husband.

And it worked.

(“Let me make you an offer you can’t refuse”, ha! Santana doesn’t want to know what exactly he whispered in Blaine’s ear, but she has a hunch it didn’t involve a dead horse’s head.

Maybe another horse body part, and a very much alive one?

… Oh Lord.

Brain bleach please).

straight up PDA

Santana was so shocked to see Kurt literally throwing himself at Blaine, pressing his body against Blaine’s back and pulling him closer, she forgot to record it.

The one time.

a striptease

What a night to remember.

One, because she didn’t expect McClumsy over there to get out of his pants without face planting, and two, because Blaine literally had a nosebleed.

Ah, good times.

But tonight seems to be a combo of Santana’s favorite, a best of Drunk Kurt On The Prowl, if you will, and she’s not missing one bit of it.

Blaine was late to the party, but he was already vibrating with energy and excitement when he crossed the threshold of the apartment.

Which, can you guess it, triggered all of Kurt’s .. hunting senses.

That is Santana’s only plausible explanation for the scene unfolding before her very eyes.

Kurt has a drink precariously dangling from his fingers, his other hand cupping the back of Blaine’s neck. His fingers are either caressing Blaine’s ear or playing with the loose curls at his nape, and it seems to hypnotize Blaine.

Kurt leans closer, whispering in the aforementioned ear, and though the light is barely present, Santana can see Blaine blushing from her chosen seat.

“Having fun?”

“Ha!”

How did Mercedes manage to sneak on her?!

She laughs, in any case, her hand cupping Santana’s knee in comfort. “Sorry,” she says, sounding anything but, “I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to--”

“Turn me into a ghost?!”

“Surprise you.”

Santana’s heart is beating faster for a completely different reason now, and she covers Mercedes’ hand with her own. “You always surprise me.”

The words are out of her mouth before she can stop herself, and she totally, completely, 100%-ly, blames the strength of the Cosmos Kurt has been making by the liter.

“Oh, you big softie,” Mercedes purrs, pulling Santana down to peck her lips and leave a trace of black lipstick in her wake.

“Shush,” Santana mutters, putting the cocktail glass away before she starts the waterworks. “You’re making me miss the show.”

“The show?”

“Drunk Kurt Mambo Number Five.”

Mercedes’ boisterous laugh rings in the apartment, and it even pulls Blaine out of his Kurt-induced trance.

Which brings an adorable pout on Kurt’s face, even as he tries to hide it in the bottom of his glass and hiccups in disarray.

Blaine turns back to him and pulls him close, hands on the lowest part of his back--ooh sneaky, Santana gives it a 8.2--as he whispers in Kurt’s ear.

Kurt straightens up immediately, eyes and smile wide, before lifting Blaine over his shoulder in a fireman carry.

“Kurt, put me down, we can walk to the room!”

“No time!”

The rest of the conversation is drowned out by the music and the closed door, but Santana doesn’t need to hear it.

The foreplay, yes, she’s interested.

The gay sex, not rea--okay, she can be interested in watching those two get at it, but only if the mood strikes right.

And right now, the mood leans closer to her kneeling between her angel’s legs and take her back to Heaven.

(Yes, Drunk Santana is weepy, but she’s also a cheesy romantic.

Shush.)