#Damn I wish I had ideas so I could at least make a set of headcanons

[kurooangel]

── friends  ✦    

ft kuroo tetsuro. ᡣ𐭩

content: smut. friends with benefits. college!kuroo. english isn't my first language. masterlist. didn't like much this one :'(

kuroo is completely normal about you. of course he doesn't care about the way your hair falls and moves with every step you take, or how you smile at him when you see each other in the hallway. or at least, he won't admit it. he can't help it, you're so beautiful and so damn sweet.

all started after the first month of college, when the snack you paid for got stuck in the vending machine and didn't fall. kuroo was waiting until you finish so he could buy something, therefore he helped you giving a small push to the machine. he is just a nice guy, what can we say. but the smile you gave him and that whispered thanks made him wish that your snack would get stuck in every single time you try to buy one.

he started getting closer to you when he joined the volleyball club of the university and he invited you to see him. of course he flexed his biceps in that match. needless to say, you couldn't take your eyes off him when he did it. even if you studied different careers, you saw each other many times, so you got closer and closer, now even you and him had lunch together, and your pussy is his dessert. you didn't know when or how, but kuroo tetsuro charmed you and made you drool for him as much as he does it for you. when you two went to a party, that tension between you just exploited when he took you to the nearest bathroom and lifted your skirt and said I've been waiting for this so long, princess. you have no idea the effect of that pretty face and sweet charisma of yours has on me.

after a few months of that party, you still visit his bed frequently. really often, actually.

"fuck, tetsuro, just like that." you whimper when his cock fills you again and again, his hips rocking against yours. a growl leaves his throat when your walls squeeze him even more and he buries his head on the crook of your neck to kiss you. "you feel so good, kitten. so fucking perfect." he whispers against your skin and a shiver runs down your spine. his kisses go down to your chest and suck them while his big and warm hands grab your hips even harder as he buries his dick even deeper inside you. thank goodness you just came to help him with his new laptop setting.

the way he kisses your breasts while his amber eyes are fixed on yours, watching how you moan because of how good his length is making you feel. it just gets you. "tetsuro, shit—... I'm gonna—" your ecstasy makes him finish with you, his cum filling your hole as he thrust it into you.

your bodies are still tangled and covered with sweat when he kisses your cheek. "maybe, and just maybe, we should go out this weekend. restaurant. I pay." he pants as you let out a giggle and nod, resting your head on his toned chest.

[barclaysangel]

Young!Tiffany Valentine x Eddie Munson aesthetic

Did this because of my dream. This is ridiculous. Yet the ship is in my mind. I vv low key wanna write something based on this but I have 0 ideas, not even for a headcanons post. But hey, if anyone wants to take a go at this crossover ship, pls be my guest!

[starsofang]

Single Dad!Simon who vowed to never trust another woman again after his failed past. He was locked up with the key thrown away, permanently off of the market.

At least that’s what he’d told himself for years. Now, he was beginning to have cold feet.

Simon needed a nanny, one that he could trust completely. He didn’t play about his child, and he’d be damned if he got set up with someone of ill intentions.

But, he was desperate.

Price needed him back periodically, even after his retirement, and he agreed. After all, money was tight when he parented on his own with a growing child.

That was when you came in. Soap had been a pal and recommended an old family friend, somebody he knew Simon could trust with his kid. Simon was skeptical, of course, but Soap had never done him wrong. Reluctantly, he agreed.

Simon wanted to have a trial period to see if you were truly built for the task. He wouldn’t let you off easily. His child was his world, and women weren’t exactly in his deck of cards when it came to trust.

You were as sweet as honey upon the first meeting with a smile that could outdo the sun. Your voice was soft as rain, flowing out of you like a summer song. You spoke to him with the upmost respect, and even more so with his child.

Simon knew he could trust Soap in guaranteeing somebody safe. You were the perfect candidate. He just didn’t know it would lead into him feeling emotions he’d buried a long, long time ago.

Attraction. Interest. A crush, dare he say, like he was a stupid high school kid that just saw the prettiest girl in class and fell head over heels.

He had a silly crush on his child’s nanny when he fully intended to keep it short and professional. That was the way he operated. He was like a working machine, and you had undone his mechanics so easily to the point he struggled to function.

Seeing you with his child only caused his attraction to fester deeper. His child became attached to your hip, smiling more than they had ever done, rambling nonsense to him every time he returned home and you left to go to yours.

It was becoming hard to deny it. You opened an old wound of Simon’s, awakening that deep and dreadful loneliness he felt every passing day. Every smile, every laugh, every Mr. Riley even though you were close in age, all of it had him on the edge of his seat.

He wanted more. He was tired of denying himself happiness. The idea of pushing away every woman was still very vivid in his mind, but denying you just seemed criminal the more time passed.

“I never got to thank you for allowing me in to your home, Mr. Riley,” you told him one day, ever so sweet.

“Thought I told you to call me Simon,” he grunted, avoiding your eyes as the two of you stood in the doorway.

“Right. Simon,” you corrected with a radiant smile. “You have quite the kid, I’ll tell you that. I always look forward to coming over. It makes my day seeing the two of you.”

Simon could feel his heart pattering against his ribcage. His hands were sweaty, and he prayed you didn’t notice him swipe them along his jeans.

“Both of us?” he hummed.

“Of course. You’re just as exciting to see, too, Mr. Ri- Simon.”

Simon’s lips quirked up the slightest bit, but his heart was in his ass. For the first time in a long time, a woman was making him shy and nervous, and it didn’t feel as bad as it did before.

“You’re always free to come over for dinner,” he offered.

“That sounds great, I’d love to have dinner with the two of you!” you exclaimed, beaming.

He didn’t understand how you could be so bright yet so oblivious at the same time.

Simon cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably on the balls of his feet. “I meant, the two of us.”

You stared at him like he’d grown two heads, and he nearly slammed the door in your face from the sheer anxiety that spiked in him. He couldn’t read your mind or what you were feeling, and Simon wished he had never said anything to begin with.

“That sounds wonderful,” you said instead. Now it was Simon’s turn to stare at you crazy. “I’d love that.”

Simon realized he was staring too long, so he cleared his throat once again, giving you a brief nod and looking away. “Alright. I’ll text you a day and have Soap pick up the little monster for the night.”

When you agreed and left with the smile that made his heart ache, he didn’t waste a second in texting Soap, telling him he’d be on nanny duty for one night that week.

Soap was quick to agree, but not without a little “You’re welcome ;)” text back.

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

I never really made a request before so that's my first time wish u like it

So I was thinking about some fluff drunk y/n acting all stupid and flirty to bakugo who doesn't like drinking around her because he knows that they both won't have someone to send them home if they got drunk

[Secretly caring]

*Whispering* he also gets a bit touchy if she let's him

*friends to lovers thing*

Wish my explanation was good enough and can't wait for the next chapter of FBRC <3

can't say no to you . . (not that i want to)

katsuki takes you home after a night out

a/n: OUUU this is such a cute idea ! i’m so happy, this is my first request as well so we both have a milestone LMAOOO ! i tried to honour your request as best i could ! <3 (OU and AAAAA im glad you like FBRC ! i hope you’ll keep reading !)

bakugou katsuki considers himself a mature, mostly rational person.

despite what others, media outlets and even his own damn friends might say, katsuki thinks he’s really not that bad.

sure, he’s flipped off a camera man, cursed out another one…and another one—but who doesn’t have a bad day once in a while ?

he’s changed since he was a kid, he doesn’t get set off as easy anymore most days. he’s learned to be more patient, a little more levelheaded. that’s at least something his shitty friends will tell you.

he’s changed from when he was a kid, he’s grown now. he’s a man.

but right now katsuki feels like smashing your head in with a brick.

"kah-su-kiiiiiiiii... m'sleeppyy" you whine, leaning against his shoulder.

katsuki doesn't regret a lot, but he sure as hell regrets accepting to go out for drinks with you. again. you had said something about 'celebrating getting a day off after a while'.

"never should've accepted goin' out with yer ass." he laments grumpily. despite the fact he says this every single time he goes out to drink with you, he never seems to learn his lesson. he never seems to want to learn his lesson.

truth is, katsuki has grown a lot since his UA days but one thing he hasn't outgrown is his giant rampant crush on you. it's embarrassing how tightly you've got him wrapped around your finger, how easily you can get him to do whatever you want as long as you just asked him to.

he complains and grumbles about it but he'll never, ever, say no to you.

which is how he always, always, ends up in this predicament.

katsuki snaps out of his thoughts when he hears you sniffle.

"y-ya don't like.." you sniffle again " ya don't like hangin' out wif me ?"

fuck.

immediatly it's like a switch had been flipped. he moves his arm so he can wrap it around you and have you lean against his chest. you always got emotional when you were a little too drunk, that usually meant it was time to go.

"no—no, s'not that. i—" he sucks in a breath, cheeks heating up despite the fact he knows there's barely any chance you'll remember this. usually he'd remind you of your embarrassing drunk moments as revenge for making him take you home and taking care of your ass because you were too drunk to, but he'll refrain from mentioning this part.

"i do like hangin' out with you, dummy. quit talkin' stupid." he shushes you softly, unconsciously rubbing your arm comfortingly.

"b-but you said, you regretted goin' out wit me" you pout. fuck, you're cute. katsuki has to fight off the urge to lean down and kiss it away.

"i say a lot of stuff i don't always mean, sweets. you know that." he replies " 'f i didn't wanna hang out with ya, i wouldn't."

you hum pensively, leaning against his shoulder as you think. you smell like something sweet, he can't quite track down what it is, but it's making him dizzy. you've always had the ability to make him lose focus. you're so close and you smell so good and katsuki feels like he's drunk.

"mmyeah...guess that's true" you hiccup. you raise your hand up to trace his jaw line with your finger and he refuses to look at you but he can hear the cheeky little smile in your voice "you like hanging out with me, right ? that's why you always say yes when i ask !

he scoffs "i only say yes 'cuz i know you'd just end up goin' out anyway, you'd get yourself in trouble." he's stiff as a fucking board, he feels like if he moves a little too much he'll say something he shouldn't.

"no i wouldn't" you argue, then you reach your whole hand up to squeeze his cheeks "but even if i did, i know you'd come to save me, mr. dynamight" you giggle

he's so sick of you. katsuki's been in plenty of situations where he was this close to death, but he's certain you're gonna be the death of him.

"time for bed" he grumbles. he lifts you by your shoulders slightly until you can properly stand on your feet "m'getting you home, yer too drunk to be up right now" he asserts, chuckling when you pout at him when he flicks your forehead

"you're not the boss o' me ! 'm completely—oops" you trip forward but katsuki catches you with ease, he's always there to.

you look up at him innocently and he looks down at you with one eyebrow raised "you were sayin' ?" he sassed.

you roll your eyes at him and push off him slightly to stand more comfortably, you stick your tongue out at him. " i said—i'm fine..but if you wanna take me home that badly, i guess i'll allow it" you shrug. katsuki squints then shakes his head, smiling to himself. you catch him and giggle, he can't cover up his chuckle fast enough. you must look stupid to the other people in the bar just sitting there giggling at each other, he realizes. then he remembers he could honestly not give enough of a shit about what these other drunk losers thought, the only drunk loser he cared about was right here in his arms.

right where you belonged.

you're out like a light by the time katsuki's brought you back to your apartment, but he doesn't mind, he'd expected it anyway. he carries you like a sack of potatoes to your floor. he's glad he'd managed to grab your keys before you fell asleep, having to wrestle the keys from you and risk you getting cranky at him doesn't sound all that nice right now.

he helps you take off your shoes and he's extremely grateful you're just lucid enough to change by yourself. he helps you clean up and brush your teeth, then carries you to bed even though he knows damn well you could walk just fine. not before getting you to down a glass of water.

you're annoying when you're drunk and sleepy, you're whiny and everything is too much work for you. katsuki grumbles right along with you, calling you a pain in the ass, then promptly taking it back when he sees you tearing up again. he grumbles and complains but he knows he wouldn't let anyone else do it for him. not only because he's sure whoever it is wouldn't even be able to do this half as well as he does, but also because despite his better judgement, despite the fact you piss him off to no bounds, you're his to take care of. and he'd be damned if he let anyone else take care of what's his.

so you whine, and he complains, but he truly wouldn't have it any other way.

you insist on wanting him to stay with you and he knows he probably shouldn't. he likes you too much to just casually stay here with you, he knows he won't be able to sleep and he's just going to keep staring at your lashes fluttering as you dream. but you pout at him and plead him so sweetly, he really can't say no to you.

he likes you too much.

he steals one of your hoodies and a pair of sweatpants (he technically isn't stealing—since they're both his to begin with) and climbs into bed with you. you immediatly latch onto him, nuzzling into his shoulder before thanking him.

"for what ?" he mutters sleepily, slowly wrapping his arms around you.

"for.." you interrupt yourself with a yawn, he chuckles "for always takin' care of me..you're the best."

if you were more sober, he'd simply answer with a cocky "tell me something i don't know." but you're not and katsuki's already too far gone, so he squeezes your waist in appreciation then responds " i'm always gonna take care of you."

he's suprised by how soft and sappy he sounds but you suprise him even more when you lean up slightly to press a feather light kiss to the underside of his jaw and whisper a sweet little "love you."

he lays there for a good long while without response, you don't mind because you chose that exact moment to fall asleep. he lays there and he's sure he won't be able to fall asleep now. fuck you for knocking out and leaving him like this, he thinks. he's trying not to give himself false hope, maybe you meant it platonically. he keeps trying and he keeps thinking all night but he's still impossibly giddy.

he was contemplating not telling you anything about last night, but he can't help himself. he's nervous—god, he's so fucking nervous when you wake up while he's getting comfy in your kitchen like it was his, making breakfast. you look groggy and sleepy and hungover, but to him, you still look adorable.

when you're awake enough, munching away at the breakfast he's made, he tells you about last night and his heart slams against his chest when he mentions what you had told him.

though, when he sees how you choke on a piece of your toast, and how flustered you look, like a deer in headlights, his heart beats hard against his ribcage for a completely different reason.

the next time you go out for drinks, it's to celebrate the start of your relationship.

AAA first request done ! hope you liked this anon <3 if you guys have any request pleassseee lemme know !

[wardenparker]

Mother Knows Best

Marcus Pike x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 17.5k Warnings: Food/alcohol, meddling mama, cursing, reader is an unapologetic nerd, flirting with books, BDSM mention (but no portrayal), vagina sex, protected sex (wrap it before you tap it), praise and a little dirty talk. Summary: Marcus Pike's mother has a tendency to overstep a little. While she means well, any time she has ever tried to set him up it has always turned out terribly. This time, though, she's pretty sure she has it right when she arranges for Marcus to go on a blind date with the youngest member of her book club. Notes: This all kind of sprang out of a TikTok I found about a bookshop date idea. And I'm not sorry about it in the least. Also, subtle shout out to my brother-in-law's band is buried in conversation 🎶

"Marcus sweetie, what are you doing on Saturday?" Donna Pike is pulling weeds in her garden with her younger son in a lounge chair nearby, and she tries to make the question as nonchalant as possible. It's Sunday now and she might as well be asking what he wants for dinner. Although her idea of what he might be doing for dinner on the night in question is almost definitely different than whatever Marcus might have in mind. He has been back in Washington D.C. for almost four months and has spent the whole time sulking – something that no mother likes to see.

Marcus is probably more relaxed than he's been in a few months. Finally deciding that he is better off without Teresa since she would rather be with someone else more than him. His eyes half closed as he holds his beer, he answers without even thinking about it. Or why giving his mother an empty day without plans wasn't a good idea. "Nothing." He hums, smiling slightly at the thought of not having any work or responsibilities.

"Oh?" Donna smirks, glancing over her shoulder to see Marcus has his eyes shut as he sits in the sun. "No dinner plans? Drinks with coworkers?" She asks carefully, keeping her tone breezy as she weeds the tomato bed.

"Not a damn thing." He admits again, not seeing the smirk on his mother's face, otherwise alarm bells would be sounding in his head. Instead, he's plotting what he will do with his day off. Hopefully sleeping until ten is the first thing on the list. Then he might take a book out to the Mall lawn and read in the sun. Pick up one of those touristy drinks to sip on as he does.

"So..." Training one eye on him as she pulls another weed up from the root, Donna's lip curls into a smile. "You would be free for dinner, then?"

"You want me to take you to dinner?" Marcus's father passed nearly eight years ago and when he could, he would take his mother out to a nice dinner. Making sure that she felt special. "Sure."

"Not exactly what I had in mind, sweetie." Donna is all-out grinning at this point, and maybe even a little evilly. "Do you remember my telling you about a new girl joining our book club? She works with Marjorie Klein at the Library of Congress?" Every time Marjorie talked about her new colleague it seemed like the younger woman would be a perfect fit for their group, so six months ago they had offered up the empty spot at their table. Now, every time Donna Pike sees or hears from you, she seems to become more and more convinced that you would be perfect for her youngest child.

"Mom...no." Marcus shakes his head and immediately drowns the rest of his beer bottle and desperately wishes another would appear. "No, no, you aren't setting me up, again."

"But Marcus she's such a good match!" She won't say 'perfect' because that will make Marcus revolt and probably run away screaming. But she has such a good feeling about this one. "And I might have already scheduled the date with her..." Might is such an innocent lie. She definitely already scheduled the blind date with you after giving you a few background details on her baby boy.

“Mooooooooooom.” The sigh Marcus gives is one of extreme frustration. “I appreciate your thoughtfulness, but no. I can get my own dates.” The truth was, his mother had horrible taste in choosing women that she thought Marcus would be interested in.

"Oh yeah?" Donna tucks her proverbial tongue securely in her cheek. "Is that why you've been hanging around your old Ma's house so much the last few months? Because you're so good at getting your own dates?" She tilts her head at him and waves one hand, dismissing the tease immediately. "She's sweet, Marcus. And so smart. You don't have to marry the girl, but it's hard to get back out there sometimes. Just...give it a try?"

“It’s— I just got out of that thing with Teresa, Ma.” He reminds her and notices the expectant look on his mother’s face. She’s well meaning, really she is, but god does she meddle. “You already told her I would go out with her, didn’t you?”

“The thing with Teresa was months ago.” Donna’s grin spreads like wildfire. “She’s a nice girl and I called in a favor to get you a table at Founding Farmer’s because I know you like to keep the first date kind of casual.” Something she considers a mistake, but she knew that if she had gone and made a reservation somewhere more upscale then Marcus would squawk.

“Jesus Christ.” Marcus groans, slapping his hand over his face and imagining how boring and completely incompatible this woman is for his mother to talk about how nice and sweet she is. All the other girls she has tried to hook Marcus up with since he was a teenager have been a train wreck. “What time?” He sighs, resigned to his Saturday being ruined.

“Seven-thirty.” Crows his mother, who definitely made sure that the reservation was early enough in the night that they could do something else afterward. “I really think you’re going to like her, sweetie.”

He thinks he’ll be wasting an hour of his life but he grunts in response, already dreading Saturday.

******

You’re probably taking this far too seriously, all things considered. The book club of mostly middle-aged and older ladies that you had been offered a place in by one of your coworkers has been really nice. Everybody sits around and drinks and gossips about the book characters like they’re real people, and there is always good food. You like the ladies in the book club, you really do. But this whole idea of a blind date with Donna Pike’s son has you nervous for some reason.

Blind dates don’t typically go well for you but you’re honestly kind of desperate. It’s been nearly a year since your last date that even qualifies as mediocre and at this point you would say yes to just about anyone halfway decent. And with that in mind, you kiss your cat goodbye and smooth one hand down your floral sundress before slinging on your leather jacket to keep out the autumnal chill. If nothing else, maybe you’ll have a nice meal tonight.

Marcus sighs as he checks his reflection in the mirror one more time. He had opted to leave the suit at home, but couldn’t dress down completely casual. The restaurant that his mom had chosen would be nice enough that slacks, a polo and a sports coat wouldn’t look too out of place. Despite his reservations, he is wanting to make an effort. He sniffs his cologne to make sure he didn’t douse himself and picks up his keys. Off to see what a nightmare this would be, although he hopes that this girl won’t throw a glass of wine in his face when he reveals he’s a federal agent.

Founding Farmer’s is bustling when you arrive, packed to the gills and you wonder if the younger Pike brother thought to make reservations. For now you adjust the (admittedly cheesy) flower in your jacket lapel and slide over to the bar to order a cocktail. If he stands you up, you at least want to have a drink in hand to soothe the embarrassment.

There had been a fierce internal debate on if he should stop outside the little flower stand that was just a block down from the restaurant to buy some flowers. Romantic Marcus would do it, and even though he had not asked this girl out, she deserves the niceties that had been bred into him after watching his father continuously court his mother through their marriage. When he enters the door of the Founding Farmer's, he can see why he had to park two blocks away and is grateful that his mother had made reservations. "I— I have a reservation. Marcus Pike." He tells the frazzled hostess. "But I'm waiting for someone...." He cranes his neck to look around, not sure exactly who he is looking for. His mother had been very vague with the physical description, which doesn't help on a blind date.

You hear him before you see him — sitting just a few feet behind the hostess stand is strategic, and you hear him give his name. The most careful sneak of a peak nearly has your jaw on the ground and you sit straight up again immediately. He’s gorgeous. Absolutely drop-dead movie star level gorgeous. And he’s carrying flowers identical to the one tucked into your jacket, making you smile unexpectedly. “Marcus?” You turn slowly on your stool, hoping you’re not about to make an idiot of yourself.

He hears his name and looks around again, his eyes searching until they fall on a lovely looking woman wearing a pretty sundress and jacket. A flower in her lapel in a move that immediately makes him grin at the old-style charm of the gesture. He nods and says the name his mother gave him, finding himself hoping that you are that person.

“That’s me.” Sliding off of your stool with your glass in hand, you put out your other hand to him and smile. His mother absolutely failed to mention that her son is an absolute dreamboat. “It’s nice to finally meet you. I feel like I’ve heard a hundred stories about you and your brother already.”

You're pretty. Maybe it's shallow, or vain even, but Marcus had been worried when his mother had focused so hard on how nice and sweet you are. He's not the type of man who insults someone because of their looks, but physical attraction is a basic for any romantic relationship and some of the women who would be just ‘perfect’ for him in his mother's eyes didn't fit in any of the categories. Not even intellectually. He shakes your hand firmly and smiles. "It's all lies, I swear." He jokes, offering you the flowers. "I'm afraid that you have me at a disadvantage because I know your name and that you are sweet."

"The ladies in the book club sort of adopted me." The flowers are beautiful, and fresh, and you inhale the scent happily as the hostess leads you to a small, secluded table in the corner. "And I..." You laugh self-consciously, shrugging a little. "I just want you to know that I had nothing to do with this. It was all Donna's idea. So if we don't get along or something, it's no hard feelings."

"I have to apologize." Marcus shakes his head, enjoying the sounds of your light, nervous laugh. "My mother likes to meddle, so if you weren't actually interested, I will understand." He moves to pull out your chair for you when the hostess indicates the table and looks at you expectantly. It's your choice if you wish to sit down or not.

Maybe it's shallow – to take one look at him and know for sure that you're at least going to ride out this dinner to see what he's like. But then, isn't that what blind dates are, at least a little? Judging a book by its cover and then taking a peek to see what's inside? "I think it would be a shame to miss out on making a new friend, even if that's all this amounts to," you tell him as you sit down.

He can agree with that, admire it even. Smiling again and he wonders if that's all this will amount to. "What are you drinking?" He asks, nodding towards your glass that you had brought from the bar.

"It's called a Farmer's Daughter," you tell him, holding up the half-drunk glass of delicious fruity-boozy goodness. "Vodka, lime, passion fruit, raspberry...something else that I didn't know what it was so I can't remember what it's called. Domaine de something?" Shrugging shelf-consciously, you offer him the glass to try a sip. "It's fantastic."

It's charming the way you offer him a drink. He takes it and tries a small sip. "That's good." He agrees. "I was going to suggest a bottle of wine, but perhaps another of these?" He asks you.

The hostess nods and disappears after leaving your menus, and you sit back in your seat a little bit more comfortably than before. "This place has their own spirits. It seemed too good to pass up, and turns out that was the right choice." A small smile plays on your lips and you really don't know where it's coming from but you feel strangely confident tonight. "So you're usually a wine guy?"

“I am.” He nods, knowing that he would happily split a bottle with good conversation and laughs. “Are you more of a cocktail girl?”

"Usually." Again, you shrug, but offer him a smile. "But only because I know nothing about wine. I'd like to learn, if I found that I knew somebody who wouldn't mind teaching me."

“Well, if you like, we can have one more of those delicious cocktails and I’ll order a bottle of my favorite wine for you to try?” He offers. “Or perhaps just a glass to share, and if you don’t like it, we can explore what you do like?”

"That sounds like fun, actually." Normally when a guy offered to 'teach' you something it was just him insisting that he knew all the best of something or had every fact memorized. Marcus isn't like that and you relax just a little bit more with this discovery. A little bit of sharing and get to know you is perfect for a first date.

“Yeah?” He grins and nods, admiring your sense of adventure and that smile that you are giving him. “Okay, so the wine I like is kinda of dry, a red. That sound okay?”

"Sure." You agree brightly, basically up for trying whatever he suggests. "Like I said, I know nothing about wine. You could be ordering the stuff that comes in a box and I would just trust you that it's good."

He laughs, enjoying your honestly. “No boxed stuff, I promise.” He tells you and thanks the waiter when he comes back with your cocktail. “I’m sorry, but could we also have a glass of the Marqués de Riscal Rioja Reserva 2012?” He asks with a small shrug. “I couldn’t decide what I wanted, and now I do.”

Oblivious to the fact that that could have been an entendre, the waiter just nods and walks away, leaving the two of you alone at your cozy table again. "So..." you can't help the way your cheeks have gotten a little warmer in the last few seconds. "Is there anything you would like to know about me up front? You said your mother didn't tell you much."

“She did tell me that you work at the Library of Congress.” Marcus nudges the new drink towards you and takes the half finished one. He’s already drank after you, so it’s nothing to him. “So what do you do there?”

"I am a preservationist in the Children's Literature Center." Your work is delicate, and it is important, but some people find it unbelievable that your entire career is dedicated specifically to kids' books. "I'm part of the team that is digitizing rare children's books so that their contents will never be lost."

“Wow.” He’s impressed, knowing that is important work. Literature sound be preserved for the future generations to enjoy, much like art. “That’s— that’s gotta be pretty interesting day in and day out.”

“It’s no game of cops and robbers.” His mother had bragged about his promotions more than once, and you can’t help but smirk slightly when his ears turn red. “But I keep busy.”

“So you know that I’m a federal agent?” He asks, not sure what all his mother had rambled on about. Knowing her, she had told you about every girlfriend he had.

“Yes. Donna is extremely proud of you, so we all heard all about the last promotion.” Taking a sip of your drink, you feel just a touch of warmth is your cheeks that is all attraction and not from the cocktail at all. “Congratulations, by the way.”

“Thank you.” He bites his lip, caught between being embarrassed his mom was talking him up and enjoying the congratulations. The joy of his success has been sucked away by the Teresa thing, but he’s been trying to get back on track. “She’s just happy I’m close.”

“She’s very glad you’re home.” You can absolutely attest to that. It’s sweet, actually. They clearly get along well. “It sounds like if she could get your older brother to move back, she’d be in heaven having you both here.”

“Don’t think he’ll be moving to D.C. anytime soon.” Marcus admits. “But she’s happy to get out of the cold to go visit him during Christmas.”

“Louisiana always sounded like fun to be. Like a completely different world from anywhere else.” Probably that thought comes from having grown up in the thick of the Canadian border, but still. It seemed romantic to think about. “She said he’s in New Orleans?”

“Yeah.” He nods and grins. “He keeps telling me to come down for Mardi Gras.”

“Sounds like fun.” He has just one perfect dimple and you swear this is the first time you’ve understood why anyone would swoon. “Are you liking being back in DC, at least?”

“What’s not to love?” He asks, looking up again when the waiter returns with the glass of wine. “The museum, the Mall, the historic sites. I love walking through the Smithsonian.”

“I will absolutely drink to that,” you agree without hesitation. “This city is pretty much perfect as far as I’m concerned.”

He hums as he hands you the glass. “Try a sip of this, it’s dry but floral. I love this with a good cheese board.”

“A charcuterie guy, too? Nothing I love more than Adult Lunchables.” The grin on your face grows as you take the glass, giving it a sniff like you have any idea whatsoever what to look for, and take an adventurous sip. “Ooh that’s…I don’t know what I was expecting but that’s great. It’s like…it’s rich but it’s not heavy, if that makes sense?”

He nods and grins at you. “Now, imagine it with a funky cheese and a tart grape. Or a salty cracker.” He tells you, proud that you enjoy it. “Maybe a glass with dinner?”

“Absolutely.” It’s like a wake up for your senses, and even though you enjoy the sweet cocktail that you had ordered initially, the wine sounds like a decadent and very mature option for dinner. “Do you have any idea what you’ll order for food yet?”

“I figured I was going to order the braised short ribs with wilted summer greens and braised carrots.” He tells you, having looked at the menu before he ever arrived.

“Sounds pretty perfect.” When the waiter comes back you fill out your order, getting a basket of the kettle corn that the waiter gushes over to start with and ordering your dinners with another glass of wine so you can both indulge a little as you get to know each other.

“So, were you as nervous about tonight as I was?” The wine is being passed back and forth between you as your cocktail has been abandoned. He takes a sip and raises a brow at you in challenge.

"Terrified," you admit with a small laugh, but there is no point in trying to act smooth or more charming than you are. You're a slightly awkward person in general, and sometimes that can be charming all on its own. Or so you've been told. "I'm not...great at dating. Then the book club ladies took it upon themselves to figure out whose son was closest to my age and, well...here we are."

He laughs at the image you paint, all the ladies tossing out their eligible sons’ birthdays like trading cards. “Well, hopefully, you are enjoying yourself.” He offers with a grin, setting his elbows on the table and leaning in. The liquor and wine are loosening him up slightly, but it’s more that he’s enjoying conversing with you. Something he’s really missed about dating or being in a relationship with someone.

"I really am." His laugh is deep and rings in his chest, making his smile a little broader every time and making you wish that you had thought of something compelling or deeply interesting to tell him about yourself before setting foot in this restaurant tonight. But you had feared the worst, and expected the mediocre, so maybe that was the entire reason you found yourself enjoying this night? Simply by being handsome, intelligent, charming, and interesting, he was already blowing every single expectation you had out of the water. "Hopefully you are, too?"

“I am.” He gives you a small, self-conscious shrug. “My mother doesn’t have the best record when it comes to setting me up.” He admits. “The last one was a part of some antigovernment group and threw a glass of wine in my face when she found out I was, quote, a ‘fed pig’.” He tells you with the air quotes.

“That…” It takes a beat of extreme self-control not to laugh at how ridiculous that is, but you manage to keep yourself together. “Please say she didn’t know that this girl was anti-government when she set you up?”

“She had met her in her favorite bookstore.” He shakes his head and laughs. “Didn’t have a clue but she had to find another bookstore because it was the girl behind the counter.”

“But she tries to find you girls that read, huh?” That encourages you a bit. That Donna considers her son that intelligent. After all, he can’t be a slouch – not in art crimes. He has to at least have a little history and culture under his belt.

“I don’t want to always talk work, or politics.” He admits. “She had raised me to love reading and I’m forever grateful for that.”

“What do you like to read?” The question is automatic for you – something that you always ask new acquaintances and especially dates. It’s an important part of getting to know someone. “Personal curiosity as well as professional. I promise.”

“I can read anything.” Marcus tells you. “But, I spend so much time reading reports that I really enjoy fiction. Thrillers, intrigue. Even the odd romance novel.” He blushes when he admits that but he’s not going to lie.

“A good romance novel is entirely underrated. They’re great character studies. Plus?” You grin and pick up a piece of popcorn. There are only a few left in the basket and you’re enjoying the salty-sweetness with his dry wine. “Anyone who claims they don’t enjoy love stories is either lying or a bummer.”

“It’s like not liking classic movies.” He agrees with a grin. “I feel like some of the emotion has been lost. You give me Casablanca any day and I’ll show you a movie that is about loss as much as it is love.”

“I dumped a guy once for not liking classic movies,” you admit, albeit a little sheepishly. “He said that black and white was dumb because life is in color so ‘why weren’t all movies?’ And that all the stories were too trope-y. Can you believe that? Where did he think the tropes came from in the first place?”

“They are the model for the tropes.” He chuckles. “We had a class when I was in high school where you read classic literature and watched classic movies. I think it should be standard around the country. It helped shape my love of black and white movies.”

“I used to watch them with my mom whenever I was home sick.” Those memories are still so vivid for you, and precious. It had felt like a personal insult and not just a preference when the previous guy had talked down about classic cinema. “She got to see Katharine Hepburn in Coco in New York City when she was little and just worshipped her ever since. So, of course, I did too. And we would just watch everything we could get our hands on.”

“Oh wow.” Marcus is impressed and he shows it. “It would have been something, I’m sure.” He agrees. “I’m not all classical though. I like a good mix of modern as well. My old band used to play in Texas and I would go see them.”

“That’s right.” Donna had told you all about his band, of course, but it had slipped your mind while you got distracted over how attractive Marcus is. “Bass player, right?”

“Yeah.” He huffs out a small laugh, wondering if his mother had complained that he hadn’t wanted to cut his hair when he was playing, or if she was bragging. “And some vocals. Mainly backup.”

“Don’t downplay it.” You grin, watching his cheeks turn pink yet again. “I can’t carry a tune in a bucket. And getting on stage? I think I’d panic. That’s something you can be really proud of.”

“It’s not that bad.” Marcus tells you. “Just pick the prettiest girl and imagine them – uh –” he falters for a second. “Kissing you.” He supplies.

“Is that how you get past stage fright?” You have definitely never heard of that particular tactic before and you nearly giggle with how embarrassed Marcus looks admitting it. “Seems like we ought to get you back on stage then, shouldn’t we? That’s a very nice fantasy to let yourself play out.”

“Nahhh it’s been a long time since I’ve been on a stage.” He admits. “I like to just drink a beer and dance with the pretty girl.”

“Oh yeah?” The impulse to insinuate yourself into that situation is deep but you just smile, knowing very well that your cheeks and ears are burning with the thought. “Sounds…pretty perfect.”

“Yeah?” He grins and there’s a partial idea forming for later tonight if the rest of dinner goes like it is now. “Does it sound good to you?” He asks. “What’s your ideal date?”

“I—” Clearing your throat slightly, your skin burns even more. “Dinner and dancing, probably? Or going to see a screening of an old movie together.” Taking a sip of the wine before you hand it back to him, you brace yourself for the tingle you’ve been getting whenever your fingers brush. “I saw a TikTok the other day of a bookstore date, too. That looked fun.”

“A bookstore date?” He’s intrigued on that what that would entail. He leans in and snags the wine glass to take another sip. He should really order another glass so you each have your own, but there is something oddly fun about sharing. “Tell me about that.”

“It’s silly.” But somehow, you think he might like silly. “There’s this list of prompts. And you roll a die to see which prompt you get and you’re supposed to go all over the bookstore looking for a book to read that fits the prompts. It’s…to a librarian it sounds fantastic…choosing books for each other and having an automatic something to talk about on the next date, ya know?”

“That sounds like a great date.” Marcus agrees, liking the adventurousness of it. “A really good date. Maybe even you have to call the other person to read them a portion of the book that appeals to you.”

“I haven’t had anybody read to me in ages…” You can feel how soft you get in response to the idea but you just can’t seem to care. Every few minutes Marcus Pike seems to get more and more perfect. “That sounds absolutely dreamy.”

“You haven’t?” He’s surprised at that, and then there’s a little fantasy that plays out in his head. Calling you every night that he could and reading a few paragraphs to you while you are snuggled in your bed. “Maybe that will change.” He hums.

"I think I'd like that." The way he says it makes you feel so hopeful, like maybe this night is going as well for him as it is for you, and you bite your lip to hold back a full-force grin. "I think I'd like that a whole lot."

Marcus actually hates when the waiter comes back to order the meals, allowing you to order first and he puts in his order for his own meal and asks for another glass of wine. “Do you want one, or do you want to keep sharing?”

"I'm not going to lie, I kind of like the sharing," you admit with an embarrassed grin. This waiter just smiles politely and steps away, having seen plenty of good and bad dates over his career and not really thinking anything of the request.

“I like it too.” He admits with a matching grin. “Although if we order dessert, we’ll need to change to different wine.” He tells you.

"Ah, so my education continues?" He wouldn't have brought it up if he wasn't thinking about it in the back of his mind, and that makes your smile grow. "I know I've seen Dessert wines listed on menus before but other than knowing they exist, I don't think I could name anything else about them."

“They are sweeter, crisper.” He tells you. “Meant to enhance the flavor of the desserts. We will have to see if we have room.” He grins. “My sides are meant to be shared.”

“Maybe we’ll have to come back?” You venture, hopeful at the idea that tonight is going well enough to lead to a second date.

“It is a very good wine list.” He tells you with a grin. “Although there’s this little place down near the Potomac that is a wine bar paired with your – what did you call it? Adult Lunchables?” He tilts his head. “I think you might like that.”

The fact that he picks up on the thread immediately makes you flush warm again and grin so broadly that your cheeks ache. “It sounds perfect,” you admit. “Although I think Donna might float just a little if she finds out we’re planning date number two before the entree is even served on date number one.”

“We don’t have to tell her.” His own grin turns slightly mischievous. “Let her dangle for a bit before we let her know about that. It’ll drive her crazy.”

"You know I'm going to get just as many voicemails as you, right?" The devilish smile highlights his dimple far too perfectly and just about has you swooning, but you manage to keep it down to just a girlish giggle. "Are you going to be a bad influence on me, Marcus?"

“Depends on what you think is bad.” Marcus quips, winking at you as he leans back. You are charming, funny, sweet. All things that his mother had noted but he’s also attracted to you. And thoroughly enjoying this date.

Confidence looks very fucking sexy on him, and you end up leaning forward instinctively when he leans back, like he's pulling a string somewhere inside your ribcage when he goes. "Maybe I like bad. And I'm just making sure I'm going to enjoy myself?"

There’s a split second where Marcus has a choice on if he’s going to make a dirty innuendo, just like you have. “Oh, I guarantee you’ll enjoy yourself.” He promises, that grin turning slightly salacious. “Multiple times.”

He knows full fucking well what he’s doing, and the poorly timed sip of wine you have just taken nearly comes out your nose when you quickly cover your mouth with one hand to keep from spitting it everywhere or even choking on it. “Guarantee, huh?” When you can breathe again and don’t have wine in your mouth anymore, you manage to raise one steady eyebrow at him. “You’re a very confident man, Agent Pike.”

“It’s a money back kind of thing.” He teases, enjoying the easy banter and the fact that you are leaning into the atmosphere rather than getting offended by it.

“Oh, I see.” You tease right back, loving the freedom in the atmosphere between you. “So I’m investing in my future enjoyment?”

“Exactly.” He hums, nodding in an exaggerated manner. “You understand perfectly.”

******

“I don’t think I can do it,” you groan playfully, looking over the empty plates of the amazing dinner you just shared and knowing that dessert would have disastrous consequences. “I think I might pop like a balloon.”

“It was a lot of food.” Marcus admits, his own stomach edging just on the cusp of being overly full. “Plus the wine. So I don’t think I can make room either.” He sighs and leans back to rub his belly just to tease.

“It’s a good thing it’s a beautiful night for a walk.” The thought had been brewing for a while, and you offer Marcus a hopeful smile. “Only if you’re up for it, of course.”

“Absolutely.” The check is discreetly placed by his elbow and he shakes his head when you move to your purse. “This is my treat.” He insists, pulling out his wallet and putting his credit card down without glancing at the bill.

“Then next time will be mine,” you insist, having a feeling that Marcus is not at all the kind of guy to let that fly, but at the same time you have to wonder when the last time was that he allowed anyone to take care of him.

He hums, not agreeing or disagreeing. “So, where would you like to walk?” He asks. “There’s a lot of little shops and bars nearby.”

Pennsylvania Avenue is certainly lively, and since you had taken the Metro you don’t particularly care what direction you head in. “We could always head toward the Mall and let ourselves get distracted along the way?” You suggest, wanting to leave the night wide open for anything or everything.

“That sounds good to me.” Marcus brought his car, but the neighborhood is relatively safe and the parking isn’t by the hours. “Do you have comfortable enough shoes on?” He hadn’t noticed your footwear, but he wants to check.

“I’m not really a heels kind of girl,” you admit, hoping that that won’t break some kind of weird unconscious rule he has in his head. You’ve been told before that you should dress more femininely but the idea that high heels are the only feminine footwear seems utterly ridiculous. “And I’m always up for a walk.”

“That’s good.” He chuckles and when both of you stand from the table he kicks out a foot and shows his comfortable loafers. “I have to wear dress shoes at work, but I’m never going to bash comfortable footwear.”

“I learned a long time ago that knee-high boots go with almost any dress or skirt.” You take his arm when he offers it – very gentlemanly – and before you know it you’re out in the crisp night air. The moon is high and the streetlamps are bright, and you sigh a little contentment. Tonight is so, so much better than you thought it was going to be.

“That sigh is either a very good sign or a bad one.” He teases, looking over at you with a playful grin. “Can I ask which?”

“It’s good, I promise.” And as if to prove you, you send him a beaming smile. “I was just thinking how nice the night is, that’s all.”

“It is a nice night.” Marcus agrees. The air has just a bite to it without being bitter and yet it is still cozy. The dark night is illuminated by the streetlamps and the noise from bars and shops spills out onto the sidewalk in muted tones. “It seems magical, doesn’t it?”

“It does.” You agree with a grin, but for you, that magic is pouring off him – not the street around you.

******

“Hey look.” It’s a building that he hasn’t really noticed before but maybe it’s because he hadn’t been looking for it before. “Do you want to stop?”

“Sure.” You’d agree to almost anything right now and you shrug. “What is it?”

“Well, the name is Tomes and Tannins, so I’m thinking it might be one of those trendy wine shop slash bookstores?” He grins at you. “Why don’t we find out?”

“That is a level of fancy I never thought I would reach,” you admit with a grin and let him lead you inside. It’s deceptively mood-lit inside but with enough supplemental lights that you can read everything you need to, and there are cafe tables with chairs smattered around some mismatched armchairs and ever sofas with drink tables at either end. It’s cozy and welcoming, and obviously meant for you to stay a while.

“Hmmm this looks promising, right?” He asks, looking to see if you approve. “Interesting place.”

“Books and wine? Sounds amazing and looks even better.” A beaming smile of affirmation is all for him and you nudge him toward the stacks. “Where do you want to start?”

“Well…” he smirks slightly. “Show me that date idea that you liked? Picking out books for the other to read?”

“Oh!” Somehow you had already forgotten, and grin guiltily as you pull up the list of twenty prompts on your phone. “You’re supposed to roll a die to find out what numbers you get. Roll a die, find a book for each of us that fits the prompt, and just keep going until we decide we have our arms full.” Digging into your purse, you come out with a d20 from when you play Dungeons and Dragons with your friends and hold it up. “Do you want to go first?”

“Ladies first.” Marcus grins and motions towards a bookshelf. “Roll there and we will see what we come up with.”

Normally a high roll would be a great thing to get, but as you stare at the 17 that pops up on the die, you skim down the list on your phone and feel yourself smirk. “Number seventeen. A book that inspired a tv show or movie.”

“Now is this for me to find for you?” Marcus asks seriously. “Or is this your criteria for my book?”

“I think we’re both supposed to pick a book for each other that fits the category.” The video hadn’t exactly been clear, but that is how you interpreted it. And it sounded like the most fun way to do it anyway.

“Okay. So we each find the other a book that inspired a tv show or movie.” He agrees. “I say I roll and then we separate. We don’t show the other the book until we are done picking them out.”

“Alright.” You hold up the d20 to offer it to him. “Roll away, G-man.”

Marcus plucks the die from your fingers and puts it in his palm to close his fist around him. Grinning as he blows on it playfully like he’s rolling dice in a casino. “Here we go.” He tells you before tossing it down.

It's playful and sweet, and you giggle softly when the die hits the shelf and comes up with the number 5. You consult your list, tilting your head with a grin when you read what category he ended up with. "Number five. A book with an overly long title."

He hums and nods. “Why don’t we add a little bit of a challenge?” He asks. You tilt your head curiously, obviously interested. “We have ten minutes per book, so twenty minutes total. When the twenty minutes is up, we meet at the tables to have a glass of wine and exchange books.”

"Deal." The element of a game makes you smile even more broadly, and you hold up your finger before he can jet away from you. "One more thing?" You ask and wait until he nods. "I want to know your least favourite book of all time. Just so I don't grab it by accident."

“Honestly?” He gives you a guilty grin. “I hate the Lord of the Flies.” He admits with a small shrug. “Hated when it was required reading.”

"You are in no way the first person I've ever met who hated that book," you promise him, smothering a little laugh in the process. "I did not like Gone With the Wind. Couldn't even force myself to be empathetic with any of the characters, which is a shame. The plot is interesting."

“The movie is better, at least it’s watchable.” Marcus admits. “I always hated the scene after the little girl died.”

"Alright." Pulling out your phone, you set a timer for twenty minutes and watch him follow suit with that mischievous smile painted back in place. "Ten minutes for each book, and then we meet right back here for wine and to trade titles."

“Good luck.” With a wink, Marcus whirls around and rushes off, already having a title or three in mind.

It becomes a sort of secondary game – any time you run into each other in the maze of shelves you immediately guard the books you are carrying with your entire bodies and back away or even sprint away from each other so that the surprises won't be spoiled. It has the two of you giggling like idiots and has definitely attracted the attention of some of the other patrons, but no one seems to really mind. Who could possibly mind people having fun in a bookstore?

When he finds what he wants, Marcus barely resists hiding it under his jacket as he rushes up to the counter to make his purchase. Wondering if you will call him out or be disappointed. So he has a backup plan in case. Taking his bag and looking around the bookstore as he walks towards the table you agreed to meet him at.

You use an entire eighteen minutes debating whether or not it's cheating to just grab two of your favourite books to see if he'll like them before you finally just do it. They do fit the categories and he did say that he likes romances so one of them is only sort of a stretch. Grabbing the two novels, you head to the register and then back to the table, only to see him already sitting there. "You were speedy," you observe, raising one eyebrow as you sit down across from him at the table.

“I know what I want.” Marcus tells you, biting back the grin that he wants to display and feeling giddy for his reveal. He motions towards the board that displays what wines they have available. “Do you want to get a glass before we exchange?”

"Sure." He's being cheeky and it's sexy as hell, so you nod and bite back a grin. "You're the wine guru, so I'll try whatever you say is good."

“I think something sweet.” He decides. “A nice Shiraz for us to share?” He asks, wanting to know if you want your own glass or to share again.

"A shiraz to share sounds perfect." Not that you know what the hell shiraz is besides the obvious conclusion that it's wine, but the sharing part is what sounds best to you.

“Okay.” He nods and shoots you a wary look. “No peeking while I order.” He orders playfully, pointing at you. “I’ll be watching.”

He steps up to the counter and you dutifully put your hands on top of the brown paper bag stamped with the shop's logo that you paid for, not peaking in the bag he bought despite desperately wanting to. He comes back in less than three minutes but you're already near squirming in your seat because the suspense is killing you.

“Okay. This is a glass of Layer Cake.” He tells you. “Sounds good, but it’s honestly a first for me too.” He was feeling adventurous and wanted a new experience with you. He’s had shiraz, but he wanted to try this at the same time you did.

"So it's a new adventure for both of us, then." That somehow makes it feel romantic and not just sweet, but it would be silly to say so. "You take the first sip, I insist."

He chuckles. “So I can make sure it’s not poisoned?” He teases. “As you wish, my princess.”

The 'princess' bit makes your cheeks burn, but you don't want to admit that you want to know whether or not he likes it first. There's something about trying wines that makes you nervous and you don't want to accidentally end up loving something that he thinks is subpar. Maybe that's trying wines that is intimidating you, or maybe it's just that you like him. You can't tell, honestly.

Picking up the glass, he sniffs and hums before taking a sip. “Oh this is good.” He groans. “That would be good anytime you wanted wine.”

"Well now I'm excited." He hands the glass over to you and you take a sip, immediately sighing. "Oh, that's fantastic. That would have made me a wine person ages ago."

“I’m selfishly glad that you are exploring it with me.” He admits, admiring how you savor the wine and take another small sip.

"Feel free to be selfish, then, because this is fantastic." Handing the glass back to him, you waggle your bag in his direction with excitement. "Number seventeen or number five first?"

“You want to go first?” He asks, not caring at all. “Sure. Why don’t you surprise me?”

"Your librarian date is excited about books. This should be no surprise." Laughing as you reach into the bag, the book on top is what you decide to go with and you pull out an old faithful favourite. "Number five. A book with an overly long title." You tell him, presenting him with a copy of Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe by Fannie Flagg.

Marcus bites his lip and takes the book. “Okay.” He nods. “That is a long title.” He’s a little worried that you won’t like what he had chosen now.

"You look nervous." He does take the book, though, not reject it. "Have you read it before? It's okay if you have...or if you didn't like it." You're not one of those people who believes that a couple has to like all the same things, after all.

“No, no, I haven’t read this one.” He promises. “I can’t wait to see what it’s about. Especially since you seem to love it.”

"I do." It would be kind of useless to claim otherwise, and you sit back in your chair to accept the glass of wine from him. "What did you find for number five?"

“So…” he flashes you a small grin. “I kind of…cheated.” He admits. “I chose a book that is both five and seventeen.” He admits. “But now, so have you so I’m completely thinking that I fucked up. But I’ve got a corny ass back up.” He rushes out to assure you.

"You say cheating, I say creativity." You do bite your lip though, before admitting, "I actually have two of my favourite books that worked for what we rolled...so this is kind of just my excuse to show them to you. Which is also cheating. Just a little."

At least you aren’t mad. He reaches into his bag and pulls out a beautiful hardback book. “My book for you is this. The Princess Bride: S. Morgenstern's Classic Tale of True Love and High Adventure.” He slides the book in front of you.

It probably isn't the reaction he expects to have you almost tear up at the table, but you gently place your hands on the book and draw it closer to you like it is something delicate and precious – which, to you, it is. "This wouldn't have anything to do with the fact that I mentioned wanting to be read to, does it?" You ask him with a grin. "Marcus it's perfect. And believe it or not...despite this being one of my favourite movies? I've never read the book."

“You haven’t?” His jaw drops and he shakes his head. “I don’t know which I like better, the movie or the book.” He admits. “I have my own copy at home.”

"I've read Cary Elwes' book, but somehow not the novel." The way he lights up at having made a good choice for you might be the most adorable thing you've ever seen. "I guess that's finally about to change."

“I did get another book but I decided it was a bit much after.” He admits, slightly flustered that he bought that book. But it has been made into a movie.

“What was the other one?” His ears have turned red and now you have to know, even nudging the wine glass back toward him in case he needs a little courage.

He blows out a breath and pulls out the other book from the bag. “Okay, but don’t judge me.” He begs, revealing the front of Fifty Shades of Grey.

“Why Marcus, is this a hint?” He has turned an even deeper shade of red and you can’t resist another giggle before batting your eyelashes at him.

“I— no, I don’t mean— it’s just that—” he sputters and chokes on his words before he heaves a sigh and drops his chin to his chest. “Fuck. I knew I should have just found something else.”

“You only should have grabbed something else if you didn’t mean to flirt with me,” you tell him honestly and pull your own book that inspired a tv show or movie out of your paper bag to hand him. The Duke & I by Julia Quinn now has images from the Bridgerton tv show splashed all over the cover, making it unmistakable. “You said you like romance novels sometimes,” you defend, shrugging your shoulders.

“I’ve not read this.” He admits, reaching for the book to read the inside cover. “It sounds interesting. This is a show right?”

“Bridgerton.” You nod, wondering what - if anything - he’s heard about it. “Most people call it something like… ‘horny Jane Austen’.”

He snorts and chuckles to himself as he continues to read it. “Then I see why it appeals.” He jokes. “Nothing like love and sex.”

“Technically isn’t that what this is, too?” You ask, waggling the copy of 50 Shades at him. “Just… kinkier.” It’s an honest question, really. Since you’ve never read it.

“It’s – not bad but you can tell that whoever wrote this is just guessing at what they think BDSM is about.” Marcus tells you.

"So...do that mean you do know what BDSM is about?" It's an intriguing thought, to imagine this otherwise very clean-cut looking guy being into anything kinky, and you can't say you hate it. Not at all.

"I—" He never should have opened his mouth. He never should have opened his goddamn mouth. If it was possible to get any hotter, Marcus swears his face would just burst into flames. This isn't something that his mother would know because there is zero chance in hell he would ever tell her. "I was undercover." He explains. "The people I was— associating with, they were into that kind of scene." He bites his lip. "I had to do a lot of research on it, but I've never actually, you know, uh, practiced it." He assures you.

"Please don't think I'm judging," you reach over the table quickly to give his hand a squeeze and shake your head vehemently. "Honestly, if anything? I find it very...interesting. But have never practiced any of it, either."

"I just don't want you thinking that I'm—" He shrugs slightly. "I don't know what I'm trying to say. Normally I'm more confident than this, but not this time." He chuckles quietly.

"You don't want me to think you're kinky?" You ask, tilting your head slightly. "It's not a bad thing to be. But...I'm sorry if I did anything to shake that confidence." With a half-smirk, you shrug one shoulder in admission. "I promise you'd be extremely confident if you could hear the monologue in my head tonight."

"You didn't do anything, I promise." Marcus reaches out after you had pulled back and takes your hand again. "My last...relationship. She's the one that kind of screwed with my head." He confesses quietly. "But I want to know about this internal monologue of yours."

"The coworker." Of course his mother had told you about his ex-fiancée. She hadn't wanted you to feel like she was throwing you into an unknown situation. "From what your mom said...she sounds like she was a little...dishonest? And that's bullshit. I'm sorry you had to deal with that."

"It's done." There's nothing he can do to change it, and he's not sure that he would want to now that he's looking back on the situation. "But I'm hoping that I can get that confidence back."

"Well, if you hadn't said anything, I never would have known that this is the less confident version of you." His hand dwarfs yours, the warmth of it completely welcoming and overtaking all your senses. And it's so, so welcome.

"Is the book, alright?" He asks. "You can just read the first one if you want."

"Oh, no." The grin you aim his way is mischievous. "I'm definitely going to read both. Who knows? I might learn something."

"Have you seen the movies?" He asks curiously.

"No..." You can feel your cheeks heat up all over again. "It always seemed...I don't know, maybe I'm just really vanilla, but they always seemed so close to porn to me?" Not that that is a bad thing. And not that you don't watch your share of porn. Just usually not of the BDSM variety.

"It was actually pretty tastefully done." Marcus admits. "I've seen them. My ex wanted to see them, so..." He shrugs. "You go see them."

"See? You're already a font of information compared to me." His hand is still covering yours and you shiver a little at the innuendo of it all. Of how warm and tempting he is. "I guess I'll have to catch up. Educate myself."

It’s on the tip of his tongue to tell you that you can watch the movies together, but that might be too forward. Instead, he grins. “Sounds like you have a research plan.”

"Apparently so." Under the table, the toe of your shoe finds the back of his leg completely by accident as you shift in your seat, and you grin guiltily. "I was about to apologize for that," you admit, knowing that it must have seemed like you were trying to play footsies or something under the table. "But honestly? I'm not sorry."

“Really?” His brow lifts and he shoots you a grin. “You like playing footsie?” He asks, his own foot reaching out and tapping yours gently.

"I think it's kind of cute, honestly." The innocent shrug is accompanied by a bright, smitten smile, and you nudge Marcus's foot back playfully.

“Best part of cuddling is sliding your foot along the leg of your cuddle buddy.” He tells you. “Or letting your hands wander.”

"Mmm...it's hands." And he has such huge hands...the possibilities are endless. "It's definitely hands."

“You’re a touch kind of girl?” He asks, intrigued by the idea and he wonders if your love language is physical touch. He’s noticed that you’ve reached out several times when reassuring him.

"Touch is a powerful thing." You reason, not making a single move to take your hand out of his. "It can be intense or gentle, reassuring or electrifying. It can be almost anything."

“Electrifyingly reassuring.” Marcus quips, squeezing your hand gently. He picks up the wine with his free hand and takes a sip.

"Like it's exciting but at the same time...feels kind of...right?" Which is exactly how you feel about him, and you're kind of going out on a limb admitting it but you don't think he's gearing up to reject you.

It does, he looks down at your joined hands and smiles. "I think so." He hands you the wine and hums. "Now, we have a couple of options for the rest of the night, if you're up for it." He grins. "We can continue to walk and talk. Or...." He shrugs. "I have my car back at the restaurant and I can drive you back to my place and we can have a cheese board and read to each other?"

He knows what he’s offering — not even in a salacious way — and that a night of reading books is like catnip to a librarian. You can’t help but get excited for it. Even the most boring night in the world would be improved by this, but tonight? With how it’s going? It sounds practically like foreplay. “What are we waiting for?” You ask, grinning, and take the last sip of wine from the glass. “We both have brand new books to read and my guess is that you definitetly have a couch big enough for two. I’d say that decision is easy.”

"Yeah?" He had expected you to say no. It's the first date after all. Beaming at you, he motions towards the wine. "Do you want to get a bottle of this to take with us?" He asks. "It would go good with any of the adult Lunchable things we can get."

“You’re going to keep teasing me about it, but I stand by that description.” You do nod though, having thoroughly enjoyed this particular glass of wine even more than what he had ordered at dinner.

He chuckles. "It's a good one." He admits. "I've never looked at it that way, but now I can see why you say that. I used to beg my mom to buy Lunchables."

“And now you love charcuterie. Which is the very same thing in a much neater package.” It’s silly, but you’ve always liked silly. It can really open a person up.

He squeezes your hand. "You finish that glass and I will see about getting us a bottle to take home." He tells you, letting go to stand up and quickly walk back to the counter. Feeling incredible about this date and almost hating that he had ever been dreading it.

Two sips and a purchased bottle later, the two of you are out the door of the little shop and heading back in the direction of the restaurant to retrieve Marcus’s car. The night is clear and crisp now and even though the city lights glow brighter than the stars you can sweat you feel the distinct light of the moon before anything else.

“How did you come to dinner?” He asks as he guides you towards his car. “If you feel more comfortable following me, I can give you the address.” He huffs. “Although I should probably do that anyway so you can send it to a girlfriend.”

“I have to admit, it’s comforting to have a guy even acknowledge that kind of thing.” Especially that he’s a federal agent, and doesn’t seem to feel entitled to your obedience or safety based purely on that fact. Instead he dutifully gives you his address after you tell him that you took public transportation to get here, and you send it off to your best friend.

“I understand.” He admits. “The number of people who disregard others safety or their own drives me insane sometimes. At the end of the day if someone gets offended for wanting to feel secure, they don’t have good intentions.” Marcus tells you. “Plus, my mother would kick my ass.”

“She definitely would.” You can agree to that, and thank him quietly when Marcus opens the passenger door for you to get into his car. The address he had given you was in Georgetown so you had a short but nice drive ahead.

“So what kind of music do you like?” He asks as he starts the car and looks behind him to back out of the spot. “Feel free to change it to whatever you like.”

“I would never change Pearl Jam.” Is the very serious reply he gets from you, as the alternative rock station he has programmed on his satellite radio is currently playing ‘Even Flow’. “There was a band that played in my college town that did all 90s rock covers and they were the absolute best shows to go to.”

“That had to be awesome.” Marcus hums. “I was too busy playing to really see a lot of shows and I regret it. But I loved being in the band.”

“Well then I guess we’ll have to find some live music to go see.” There seems like plenty of common ground that you can pick up on together and that is a very good sign if nothing else. “If the sound of a 90s influenced jam band doesn’t make you want to run for the hills, The Southern Ocean is playing at The Runaway this weekend.”

“I’ve never heard of them.” Marcus admits sheepishly. He’s been focused on work and not really out on the social scene the past few months. “Are they good?”

“I mean, I think so.” It’s not exactly surprising that the name is unknown to him and you glance over at him while he drives. “Their bassist is a friend, so I try to support whenever I can.”

“Then that’s definitely something I would want to check out.” Marcus nods. “It’s always good when you see friends play.”

“Would you want to come with me?” It’s only slightly presumptuous to plan out a second date when you’re still in the middle of the first one, but you like Marcus. You like him. He’s smart and handsome as hell and sweet, and even balances flirtation and respect on the perfect level. Honestly, you can’t imagine what kind of an idiot his exes were to let him get away.

“If you’re offering.” He smiles. “Who the hell ever resists an invitation from a pretty girl to go see a band?” He shakes his head. “I might be dumb, but I’m no fool.”

“You’re not dumb. Or a fool.” That’s exactly the kind of thing you don’t put up with from guys you date and you were glad to be able to rule it out very early with Marcus. You exchange a small smile at the next light when he pulls up to it and for the rest of the ride you sing along with the music and just enjoy yourselves.

When he pulls up to his house, Marcus is sort of panicking. Wondering if he had picked up this morning after he had dropped his clothes on the floor from his run. The last thing he wanted was for you to think that he was a slob.

“Home sweet home?” You guess, looking up at the picturesque blue house with its literal white picket fence. It even has a gate out front that someone lovingly painted flowers on in lieu of adding a name.

“Yeah.” He chuckles and gives a small shrug. “It was a hell of a deal when I stumbled on it and I jumped.”

“It’s beautiful.” The lawn is dotted with wildflowers from what you can see in the dark, and suddenly the mental image of stargazing with him on a blanket is impossible to shake.

“Thank you. Luckily, I pay a wonderful company to keep the yard looking nice because I don’t have time to do it.” He admits with a small laugh.

“They do a much better job than the landlord at my duplex,” you offer him a smile before he slides out of the car and goes around to your door to let you out. The front door is a mere six steps away and Marcus’s house is even sweeter and more inviting once that door is open. It’s like somebody built the set of a Hallmark movie in real life just for this handsome FBI agent.

“So, this is home.” He knows that it’s decorated more than the standard bachelor pad and he’s okay with that. He’s not the type of man to just have a chair and a tv in the living room. “Make yourself comfortable, I can put your coat in the closet if you want?”

“Thanks.” It’s the most intimate contact you’ve had tonight besides holding hands, and you swear you can feel your skin tingle when he slides your jacket off your shoulders for you before hanging it beside his in the closet. The little shiver that runs through you is a private thrill and you know you probably look dreamy as hell as you follow him past the living room to the kitchen.

“How about you arrange the cheese board while I open and pour the wine?” He asks as he opens the refrigerator to pull out the sliced cheeses and meats he keeps there because he likes them.

It sounds wonderfully domestic, and you agree to it easily as he pulls out a small board and sets it down on the counter. Packages of Gruyère, havarti, and something marked Seriously Sharp cheddar all fill out the board and you do your valiant best at attempting to fold and rolls the slices of cured meats into petite little roses for the two of you to enjoy demolishing together. Some fresh grapes and cherry preserves join the tray, and Marcus produces a half of a baguette seemingly out of nowhere once the wine is poured. It’s all deceptively easy, the way you seem to work with and around each other, and by the time you make it back out to the living room you know you’re just completely gone for this man. His little smiles, deep laugh, and soft demeanor have you utterly relaxed and so, so smitten.

“Do you want to put on some music?” Marcus asks. “Maybe we can just relax. Lean back and read to each other?” He’s leaning into the idea that you would like this and he wants to make sure that you enjoy yourself.

“What do you want to read first?” It sounds like possibly the most romantic idea in the world – just sitting and reading to each other in comfort with an indulgent (and savory) dessert. If the thought of curling up with him and finding out what it feels like to be close to him is anything, it is fairly close to perfection.

“Ladies choice.” He hums quietly, moving over to the record player he has sitting next to the collection of vinyl’s. It’s not to look snooty, he’s been obsessed with them since his mother played them while cleaning, claiming it sounded better. For classical music, it does. It brings back a sense of nostalgia, sets a mood.

“Rachmaninov?” The melody sounds familiar, like something out of a dream, when it starts up and the name seems to drudge itself out of the depths of your memory. “That’s got fantasy and romance written all over it.”

He hadn’t chosen the music with that in mind, but he smiles. “Too much?” He asks, even though he doesn’t feel like you will think that.

“Not at all.” In fact, just the opposite. It feels just right. “But it feels like The Duke & I or Princess Bride for sure.”

“Okay.” He smiles as he moves over to the couch and toes off his loafers to reveal the dress socks he had been wearing underneath. “You can get comfortable.” He promises, taking off his sports jacket and removing his tie.

Getting Comfortable on a date for you would usually lead to sexier things than snacks and reading — but then, is there anything sexier than reading in the first place? For a librarian that seems impossible. So instead, you follow suit and toe off your boots to curl up in the couch beside him.

It seems almost natural to have you curl into the crook of his body and Marcus opens his arms slightly. “How about I read to you to start?” He asks softly.

For most people this might be a recipe for falling asleep, but tonight the sound of his voice is vibrating through the thin fabric of your dress as you lean against him. The lingering scene of his cologne mixed with the wine and new book smell in a way more intoxicating than alcohol ever could be. “You’re dangerously comfortable,” you warn him, drawn right against him like a magnet.

"I don't mind being called that." He laughs quietly, trying not to jostle you too badly as you snuggle against him and he settles into opening the new book. Hearing the spine creak open slightly and he wonders if you are like him and prefer hardback over paperback books. At least for gifts.

“All we need is a fire in the fireplace and we’re just about as picturesque as I can imagine.” It’s dangerous to turn your head to smile at him from this angle because it brings you within about two inches of his perfectly tantalizing lips, but you remind yourself to behave. This is just the first date. No need to rush.

“Not quite cold enough yet.” He can’t help but look down at your lips, imagining kissing you in front of a cozy fire after a night in. Or maybe coming home to relax after a night out.

“Soon.” The moment is so soft, and you watch his eyes drift down to your lips the same way yours did to his a second ago with a warm buzzing in your chest. Whether you mean the fire or the kiss should be soon is entirely up to him to decide.

“Should I start to read?” He asks quietly. Feeling the moment start to grow into something warmer, sweeter.

“Yeah—I—um…” Any hesitation on your part is strictly attraction based, and you move your head a safe distance from his lips so as not to get distracted. “Please.”

Marcus turns his eyes to focus on the book and not on you. “The birth of Simon Authur Henry Clyvedon Fitzranulph Basset, Earl Clyvedon was met with great celebration.” He keeps his voice low, intimate between the two of you as he was reading you a story before bed.

It’s simultaneously the most relaxing thing in the world and causing you to be completely on edge, the way Marcus’s rich voice seems to roll right through you as he begins to read. Every place that the two of you are touching seems to be on fire and you cannot decide if you want to jump him or take the world’s most luxurious ride on his narration alone.

He feels you stiffen in his arms and he wonders if you’ve change your mind. “Everything okay?” He asks, wanting to check in with you. He had anticipated you melting against him, but you seem on edge and if it’s something he’s doing, he wants to fix it.

“Of course.” There’s nothing wrong with how relaxed you feel right now, but you know you’ve been a little tensed against him. You had just been hoping that he wouldn’t notice. The fact that he looks at you incredulously says he definitely did. “I’m—” Flustering, you clear your throat as gently as you can manage and bite back a smile. “I’m a little distracted,” you admit, wondering how well complete honesty will go over with him.

“Cold?” Marcus asks. “There’s a blanket right over your other shoulder.” He hums. “Snuggle against me and curl under it. I meant it, make yourself comfortable.” He’s not sure if it’s the change from having your jacket and boots on that’s distracting you, but he doesn’t mind the idea of being under a blanket together.

Not entirely sure that snuggling more would distract you less,” you pull the blanket down anyway and do as he suggests. It brings the two of you even closer and you have to tamp down the coil tightening even further in your gut. Keep your shit together. You’re a grown ass woman! “There.” You smile, but looking up at him brings your eyes to his lips again and you don’t even realize as your tongue darts out to wet your own lips at the sight. “All better.”

His eyes drop down to your lips and he all but groans at the sight of them wet. “Good.” He croaks out, clearing his throat. “That’s good.” It’s hard to tear his gaze away from you, but he needs to so he doesn’t overstep.

“Mmhmm.” Nodding is like a reflex, and for all your determination you just can’t look away. “Very good…”

There’s a moment where Marcus wants to put the book down and give into the desire to kiss you. But that wouldn’t be what you had planned when you came over here and if something happens, he’s determined to let you lead. “So, uh, where was I?”

“I think—” But the thought isn’t there. You have no idea what the last thing he read was, despite how much you love the sound of his voice. Every sense has been taken over by the buzzing hum running through your body and the spark of his skin touching yours. “I don’t—” You could bluster. Or try to skim the page and guess. But your impulses are a hell of a lot stronger than your good sense tonight. “—I really want to kiss you—”

Marcus groans quietly and the book snaps shut with a definitive thump. “I really want you to kiss me too.” He admits. “You should go with your instincts.”

“Instincts are important,” you nod as wisely and seriously as possible even as you’re turning into his side. Those warm puffs of breath that have been ghosting over your skin make you shiver, and you just have an unshakable feeling that this is that start of something completely wonderful. “Oh yeah?” You hum, close enough to nudge his nose with yours.

“Yeah.” Marcus exhales roughly, feeling like he is about to vibrate out of his skin. Despite his complaint to his mom that it was too soon since Teresa, he feels that this is nearly perfect. You’re perfect and he’s painfully attracted to you.

It only takes the smallest movement to fit your lips against his, but the response that floods your body is monumental. It really should only have been a quick, light, gentle kind of first kiss — but he did say to go with your instincts. So instead your hand comes up to graze the line of his jaw when the blissful feeling of having him kiss you back makes you feel like you might vibrate out of place right there on the couch.

It’s innocent, really. The kiss doesn’t go much deeper than the exploration of each other in that first pressing of lips and yet he feels like his heart is about to explode out of his chest. The only reason you pull back is to check in with him. It really is. Because that simple little first kiss might be the best first kiss you’ve ever had. His smile is a little dreamy, almost goofy as his eyes flutter opened after closing on their own. Looking at you as if you had hung the moon after that kiss.

"You look how I feel," you tell him, grin splitting your face clean across as you tuck tightly into his side. That pure joy radiating from his smile is the same feeling filling up your chest right now.

“Like you could tap dance on air?” He asks with an answering grin of his own. Wanting to pull you close and kiss you again, but resisting.

"Maybe." Neither of you were expecting the giggle you share, but it makes you both smile that much harder and you shift slightly against him. "And...like I didn't want to stop..."

“That too.” The book falls to the floor as he shifts slightly. His eyes are darker now, the lust and desire making his amber eyes turn to onyx. “You don’t have to.”

The momentum sweeps both of you up in a way you didn’t expect at all. As soon as he agrees to wanting even a little more you feel like the whole world tilts on its axis. You shift in his arms to surge toward him, lips pressing against his in earnest and barely managing to swallow a moan when he pulls you in tighter. It has you throwing caution to the wind and taking advantage of the open-mouthed kiss to taste him with your tongue — and letting a second moan out when he tastes just as sweet as you thought.

His arms wrap around you, not wanting you to shift too far away as he drowns in the kiss. Letting the feeling of your tongue caressing his completely overrule any semblance of thought beyond you and making sure you are aware of how much he is enjoying kissing you.

Trying to get as close to each other as you possibly can, you turn one more time in his arms and shift forward without ever breaking the kiss. His arms hold you steady, following wherever you’re going next, and in a moment of impulsivity and bravery you swing one leg over his lap to straddle Marcus completely on the couch.

Groaning, he absorbs your weight easily and his hands slide down your sides to squeeze your hips. He’s not upset you’re in his lap, quite the opposite. It makes his kiss just a little more frantic, trying to devour you a bit more.

Marcus has big hands. You know that already. But feeling them on you is totally different. His grip is firm but gentle, sweeping up and down your sides, and you’re suddenly hyper aware that you chose a dress and leggings and that those things provide no barrier between his body and yours. You can feel damn near everything underneath you and that is a blessing as well making you hyper aware of the warmth radiating off of him in waves.

He pants against your lips and feels like he’s underwater. Knowing that he is starting to harden underneath you at the warmth of your body, your core pressed against him.

The only thing that could possibly reel you back in at this point is him — the very same thing that is driving you crazy. But before you start grinding against him or even so much unconsciously moving your hips, you need to make sure he’s okay with it. You’re both panting heavily when you press your forehead against his, and your hands grip his shoulders tightly for balance. “I can stop…” you promise him, knowing that reeling yourself in now will be easier than later. “If you don’t want—more—”

“No.” The word is more whimper and plea than command and he wouldn’t do that anyway. “I— I’m good. I want—” He shakes his head and leans in to press his lips to yours again.

He wants just like you do, if the growing bulge beneath you is any indication, and you are not the slightest bit upset about that in anyway. It isn't what you came here for – or why you went on this date in the first place – but fuck if it isn't feeling like the perfect way to cap off the night.

The subtle circling of your hips has his fingers digging into your thighs as the most delicious groan rips out of his throat. Unsure if he wants you to stop or to just grind on him until you’re panting his name, he slides his tongue down your jaw and to your neck to follow it up with tiny kisses.

"Fuck— Marcus." The iron grip you had on his shoulders has slacked only so you can run your hands down his chest, feeling his heartbeat hammer under your fingertips just as fast as your own as he dusts kisses along your neck and raises goosebumps in his wake.

“So sexy.” He murmurs into your skin. Scraping his teeth over your pulse and sucking lightly. Enjoying the tremor that runs through you and the way you press down against his cock as you moan. He’s hard and starting to ache now, twitching every time you move.

“Unbelievably hot.” The first time you deliberately tilt your hips and rock your core over him, you both moan and you melt against him with your fingers fumbling for his buttons. “C—can I?” You manage, even though you feel like your voice is shaking. “Want to touch you, baby. Please?”

Exhaling on a shudder, Marcus gulps in air greedily. "Whatever you want." He croaks out. "I— fuck," His eyes close and his head tilts back slightly, exposing his Adam's apple. "I want you, but this stops wherever you want it to." He's not the type of man to push beyond your comfort, but if you said you wanted him inside you, he'd already be asking about protection. Not feeling like this is some sort of rebound, it feels like the beginning of something wonderful.

“I don’t want it to stop,” you admit, pausing with your fingers already in the first button of his shirt to find his eyes. This is not your usual first date M.O. but there is something here. Something very real and new between you that has wrapped itself around both of you together.

“We don’t have to stop.” Marcus promises you breathlessly, biting back a groan of pleasure when your hand splays across his chest, touching his hot skin.

"Thank god." Your own moan is a soft and breathy thing as you lean back to watch the broad expanse of his chest come into view with every button you manage to wrench open.

He manages to chuckle, even though he wants to just pull you closer and rip your clothes open to touch you, but he just pulls you close.

It's so damn easy to sink into him. For both of you to let your hands wander and your kisses migrate across each other's skin. He's stronger even than he looks at first glance and that is very strong – to the point where you really wonder if he might be able to just lift you up and carry you off. And that is just about the sexiest thing you can think of.

Keeping his hands on top of your clothes is going to be a real fucking challenge. Especially now that you have stripped him of his dress shirt and his undershirt. Squeezing and caressing every inch of skin you are baring, even the back of your tender neck while he scatters kisses along your lips.

The way he grabs and bunches your dress in his hands but doesn't reach further makes you groan, wondering if he's hesitant or if he's just waiting for permission. It really only takes a few seconds to realize there is something hesitant about the way he is kissing you or palming your hips and breasts over your dress, so you take one of his hands and guide it under the hem of your dress in invitation.

Marcus moans when you guide his hand under your dress, giving him permission to touch you and it becomes his mission to touch every inch of your body. Both hands slide up and down your thighs in sweeping passes, over your panties and to your stomach.

"Fuck." His hands are burning hot, making you shiver counterintuitively and lean into every touch. At this rate you may leave a damp patch from grinding down on him, but you don't even care. The friction is too good to ease up on. The only way you're moving off is so Marcus can get his pants off.

"That's right, baby." He agrees, unable to stop twitching every time you grind against the hard bulge in his slacks. "Fuck is right." His thumb sweeps under your breast right before he slides up to cover it with his hand, right over the bra and squeeze possessively. "You want to take off your dress for me, sweetheart?"

It's not even worth wasting breath on a reply, you just tear your hands away from his chest to pull your dress up over your head. It gets tossed somewhere on the floor and instantly forgotten about as you pant for your breath back and watch Marcus's eyes drink you in.

He didn't know that he could look so many places at once. Your tits, mouthwatering and begging for his attention. Down to your pretty panties that he wants to rip off and bury his tongue inside you to hear you squeal his name. Back up to your face and he nearly growls as he rushes in to kiss you again.

The momentum nearly knocks you backward but Marcus's arms are there to hold you steady. If he has his way you'll be staying skin-to-skin for a whole lot longer tonight and you have absolutely no problem with that. Every time his cock twitches under you, you can't help but moan, and soon it's going to be just a litany of that sound over and over.

Deft, sure hands reach back to undo your bra, making the first move to strip clothing off of you. Pulling the straps down your arms and immediately reaching up to cup your breasts and fill his hands with them. As simple as it might be to get a simple piece of clothing off of you, your high-pitched whine says everything about how eager you are to be rid of every stitch. "You have the best hands," you moan when he pinches your nipples and rolls the tight buds between his fingers for the first time.

"You have the best tits." Marcus hums, almost chuckling as he watches your head drop down to your chest and then roll back. "Fuck, that's it," he groans when you circle your hips on his cock again.

"S—swear this isn't what I was expecting—" You manage to breathe out, trying to assure him that you never expected sex tonight. "But fuck, baby."

"Me either." He agrees, kissing your jaw and then down your chest. His hot mouth moving towards your breast until he's pulling your nipple into his mouth.

“Mar—Marcus.” The heat of his mouth makes you keen even as your head drops back and the fingers of one hand tangle in his short hair. At this point every time you grind your hips down it’s like you’re trying to reach his cock inside his pants, and you know he’s as hard as you are wet.

He huffs and blows his breath against your nipple as he lets go of it, smirking up at you before sucking it back into his mouth. Knowing that tonight is nowhere near what he had imagined it being like and yet he can't be mad at it. He's eager to feel more of you.

“Feels so damn good.” The contrast of hot and cool on your skin makes your eyelids flutter and you rock in his lap.

He moans in agreement, his tongue flicking over the stiff peak and he loves how it puffs up even more in his mouth. Pulling off only to attack your other breast with equal enthusiasm.

Every flick of his tongue sends another shiver down your spine and as much as you just want to ride it out and see if you can cum only from having your tits sucked on, you want him more. One hand stays threaded in his hair but the other reaches down between you, finding the thick bulge of his cock in his pants and squeezing experimentally to see what makes him moan.

Marcus’s breath is ragged, shuddered against your skin and he pulls away because he might bite down too hard if you do that too well. “Fuck, baby.” He groans when you squeeze him again.

"I—" You breathe, panting when he twitches in your hand and you can feel how thick he is. "I have a condom in my wallet." It had been just a nothing idea, to throw one in while you were getting ready. More of a joke to yourself about how you always seem to be so overprepared. But now? Thank god you did.

"Yeah?" He kisses up your neck again and his tongue slides against the sensitive skin behind your earlobe. "I have one too." He admits. He's always carried one, but not because he expected sex, but because it was surprisingly handy to have at times. "Do you want to use yours or mine?"

"Yours first, mine second." It might sound a little overconfident, but something in you tells you for certain that this isn't just a one-time thing. Besides that, Marcus's hazy, lust-filled grin at your comment is worthwhile.

"Good girl." He groans out, twitching against your core at the thought of multiple rounds after you've both caught your breath and recovered.

That makes you moan reflexively, and you don't even pretend to demure over the reaction. It's honest and it's real. Who doesn't want to be praised during sex?

"Oh you like that." He chuckles and leans in to kiss your lips again softly. "I'll keep that in mind." He will, he will take note of every damn think you like.

"Not even going to pretend I don't." You lean forward to nip at his neck in turn before stepping back from him with a groan. With two feet on the rug, you already hate the distance between you. But you'll take care of that as soon as you strip his pants away.

Marcus pouts slightly but he quickly unbuckles his belt and unzips his pants so he can lift his hips up so you can pull his pants down. Black boxer-briefs under black trousers is very adult of him, and you're far too focused on the thick length trapped under that last layer of fabric to tease him about boring underwear. Instead you toss him his wallet from the back pocket of his pants and slip off your tights while he fishes for the condom packet.

Catching his wallet, Marcus opens it and pulls the condom out and tosses it on the coffee table before he bites his lip. Looking at you before he lifts his hips again and pushes down his boxer briefs.

Broad shoulders and a thin waist give way to long legs, but your attention is focused on his dark eyes until you let your gaze drop to his lap. The head of his cock is bordering purple, dripping precum, and it gives a distinct twitch against his belly when he watches you watch him. The perfect moment of quiet before the storm that is about to take over, you crack a grin at Marcus and take a step forward. That cock is going to feel so fucking good inside you.

"I take it you approve?" He asks, smirking himself as he holds out his hand to you. "Now, I want you to take off your panties for me, sweetheart."

“Oh, these things?” With your thumbs hooked into either side of your panties, you grin a little wider before slipping them straight down your legs to pool at your feet. “Gone.”

"Fuck." He groans, cock jerking again at the sight of you completely bare in front of him. "You're so beautiful. I'm lucky to be able to touch you."

You hum, shaking your head and making a show of walking the three steps you need to need to be ready to crawl back into his lap. “I could say the same thing.”

He chuckles and rips open the condom to roll down his length. Biting his lip while he studiously applies the prophylactic, he looks back up at you with his hand wrapped around his covered cock. "Then touch me again and make me believe it." He teases.

Never having known a single man who didn’t like having his cock ridden, you fit one knee on the outside of each of his hips and sit yourself down directly over his core, replacing his hand with yours and wishing you had had the opportunity to suck his cock just a little before he applied the condom. Next time, you tell yourself, rocking over the tip of his length and watching his Adam’s Apple bob dramatically until you start to slide that length inside you an inch at a time.

His hands find your hips again. Not to rush you, but to hold you as you slowly start to engulf his cock. Moaning out your name when you get the first two inches inside your hot body and your walls squeeze him tight. "That— fuck, baby, you feel so good." He praises breathlessly. "How— is it good?" He can barely think straight, but he wants to make sure you are comfortable.

“Perfect.” Barely holding onto your last shred of control, you are determined to make sure you both latch on to the bliss of this moment before anything else. “Fucking perfect.”

Your fingers dig into his shoulders but the slight pain just adds to how good the way you sink down onto him feels. Groaning again as you keep taking him, wrapping him up in the heat of your body. "Good."

“Goddamn.” When he’s fully seated inside you, you pause long enough for both of you to catch your breath. “Tell me when I can move, baby.”

"Anytime you want to move." He moans, wanting you to move now, but he's not the one who is on top. "You set the pace, baby."

That in itself is enough encouragement, and you raise up on your knees right away to the musical harmony of a moan ripping out of each of you. “Fuck you feel so good,” you moan, barely keeping your eyes open as you set an even but energetic pace. It feels that good, but you want to be able to watch him.

Breathing out shakily, Marcus can't even speak. Too overcome by the pure pleasure that comes when you start to move. Rolling your hips and clenching down around him, you fit like you are perfectly molded around him. Eyes fluttering when you start to lift off his length, but then take him even deeper when you sink back down.

The sounds of sex are distinct – sloppy and wet and loud – as the two of you find a rhythm together. If you believed in Fate you’d say he felt like he was made for you, but as it is you really can barely form any thoughts at all. He fills you in a way you don’t think you’ve ever felt before and every perfect man goes straight to your clit as you ride him.

His fingers are still grazing your hip as his thumb presses against that little button that drives women crazy. Humming when he starts to work quick, small circles on top of it as you move. Wanting to match the rhythm for your pleasure. Your hands are everywhere, pulling in his hair and bracing on his shoulders, grazing down his chest and even reaching behind you to lean backward and get a slightly different angle and groaning loudly when it strikes you just right.

Letting you lead doesn’t mean that Marcus does nothing. His hips rock up every other thrust to make sure that you are impaled on his cock. Toes curling every time, he groans out your name again and again.

Curses and praises fall from your lips, punctuating the litany of moans with colorful encouragement and pleas. Every time he thrusts upward you feel like you’re going to have all of your insides rearranged, and it’s so fucking good you never want it to stop.

“Fuck. Baby.” Marcus leans forward and presses his forehead to your clavicle. “You’re taking me so well. Love it.” His mouth sometimes gets filthy when he’s lost in a moment and it’s no different today. “Pretty little pussy clamped down over my dick.”

Fucking hell. He even talks dirty. You keen in response, a moan so animated and turned the fuck on that you’re picking up the pace and pawing at your own tits in Marcus’s face. It’s beautiful to watch your tits bounce and your hands pluck at them, but he’s a hands on kind of guy and he lets go of your waist so he can lavish attention on them.

It’s an automatic switch. When his hands move to knead your tits and pluck at your nipples, you replace one of your own on his shoulder and let the other drift to your clit to run the same circles that he was just a second ago. You’re hurtling desperately close to cumming and you can’t wait to hear what dirty little praises he’s going to come out with when you clamp down on his cock even harder.

Marcus moans and groans with his nipple in your mouth. His eyes watching your fingers dance over your clit and he’s memorizing the fact that you enjoyed the way he had been touching you. His hips rocking up fast to punch up into you. Feeling you getting closer to your peak with ever gasped squeal you give him.

“So—fuck— so fucking close,” you manage between pants and moans as your body starts to lock down all at once and that coil in the base of your spine tightens beautifully like you were warning it and not just him. “Oh fuck, I’m cum—”

The second he feels you tense up, Marcus pops off your tit and his arms wind around you like steel bands. Holding you in place so he can take over. Thrusting up into you while you start to cum. “That’s it.” He hisses. “Cum for me. Soak me baby. Show me how good my cock feels.” He groans, the hard, sharp thrusts knocking his breath out but he fucks you through it, still babbling. “Like a vice, like a fucking vice. Come on baby, give me all of it.”

The filthy babbling almost breaks you, with the way that it shakes through you and makes you gasp at breaths even with how much you’re panting. Sparks flash white behind your eyes as Marcus’s hips start to stutter, and you’re vaguely aware of a stream of your own encouragements — or maybe just begging him to cum so you can see how gorgeously unwound he looks when he hits his peak. You can’t be sure which it is, or if it’s both, but either way his arms tighten around you that much more and he groans in your ear like sin incarnate.

"Fuck you're so good." Marcus breathes. "I'm gonna cum. I'm gonna fill your little pussy up." That's not going to happen because of the condom, but logistics don't exactly matter right this second. All that matters is that he's going to be buried inside you as he cums. "Fuck baby, fuck." He chokes out, giving one more thrust and grinding up into you as he whines your name into your ear. Spilling into the condom in hot waves of pleasure.

“Holy shit.” You’re the first to break into giggles, when you finally have your breath back. His arms were so tight around you at the end that you might feel a little bruised tomorrow but you can’t find it in yourself to care at all. That’s the best ride you’ve had in ages and it was only the first time.

Humming, Marcus leans in and nuzzles his nose against your neck. Panting to catch his breath. "Holy shit is right." He gives his own little giggle because he's feeling so loose and good.

“Let me know when I’m getting too heavy.” With your forehead pressed to his shoulder and the feeling very slowly returning to your extremities, you’re still not sure about moving immediately. “My legs aren’t working yet. You turned them into jelly.”

"You can stay right here as long as you want." He promises with a grin, his spent cock twitching inside you. He will have to hold to condom when he pulls out, but it's worth it. "Want me to read to you now while you recover?"

The awe and adoration in your expression when you pull back from him is unmistakable. He’s going to read to you post-coitus?! “You’re actually perfect,” you sputter out in disbelief, though you’re absolutely not saying no.

He chuckles and sends you a warm smile. "It's the least I can do," he teases, "since you did all the work." His hands slowly caress your spine and he’s enjoying the way you feel against him.

“And I’ll gladly do all the work again for round two if that’s the response I get.” Not even teasing, you nudge your nose against his and steal a kiss, savoring the taste of perspiration mixed with Marcus’s kiss.

He hums against your lips and slides his hand up to hold you in place to deepen the kiss. "Thank you." He murmurs when he pulls away. "For this. For making it easy to enjoy the best damn date I've had in a long time."

“No need to thank me.” There is so much softness in it that you melt a little bit more, nuzzling into him right there in his lap. “I’m gonna have a hell of a time trying to make sure our second date beats it.”

It makes him laugh, a giddy, carefree sound and he sigh happily. "We should just keep it going then." He decides. "That way we don't have to think of ideas to top this."

You could float away on the sound of his laugh, just reveling in this joyful energy. All the same, you pull back again and find his eyes carefully. “You asking me to stay the night, handsome?”

"What kind of date would I be if I sent you home when your legs are Jello?" He asks playfully, leaning in and nudging your nose with his. "Especially since it's my fault."

“Fault. Generous gift. Same thing.” You both grin, indulging in more kisses until you’re sighing into him all over again. “In that case, I think we should go upstairs,” you murmur. “Read in bed until we either want to go again or fall asleep.”

"Do you want some water?" He asks softly, knowing you might be thirsty after all that work. "I can get you some before we go up?"

“Perfect gentleman.” You hum softly, knowing you need to climb out of his lap but wanting one more kiss first. “Water would be amazing.”

He gives you another lingering kiss, smiling against your lips when you start to pout as you lift off of him. He slides his hand between you to hold the base of his cock, keeping the condom from moving. "Good. My room is the last door on the left." He tells you. "I'll be up in just a second, as soon as I get rid of the condom and get some water."

"Okay." Even though you pause to gather up your stuff, you don't bother getting dressed. Sauntering upstairs naked has an air of comfort and unexpected sexiness to it that you can't deny, but you do stop off in the bathroom to do the extremely unsexy task of cleaning up and having a quick pee. By the time you get out, you barely have a second to slip under the covers before Marcus appears in the doorway.

"Bottle of water, like the lady ordered." Marcus put away the cheeseboard and wine, gathering up his own clothes before coming upstairs. He wants to make sure you are comfortable. Grinning, he walks over in his boxers to hand you the water. "Need anything else, sweetheart?"

"A little company, that's all." Did he manage to get more attractive in the less than five minutes you were apart? That's wholly unfair.

"Company I can definitely provide." He smirks slightly as he walks around the bed to climb in beside you. "Comfortable? Need another pillow?"

"Not gonna lie." As he slides in next to you, you move toward him like a magnet. "I was kind of hoping for a human pillow."

"That's my favorite type of pillow to be." His arms open up to let you settle against him. "Especially when I'm going to read to you."

"Absolutely perfect," you murmur happily, laying your head down on his chest as he picks up the book. Tonight really was, without a doubt, the best date you've ever had. You're going to have to do a hell of a job hosting the next book club meeting as a thank you.

He picks up reading again, basically just starting over. Keeping his voice low and the only light is from the lamp on his bedside table. Letting the atmosphere stay intimate. It might be the first date, but it was going to hopefully the last first date he has.

______

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[sweetheartedbylust]

“Mad at me baby” Mike Schmidt x fem reader NSFW

Idea post: https://www.tumblr.com/sweetheartedbylust/735454342966116352/currently-thinking-about-mikejosh-being-all-mad

< y’all asked and I grant the wishes🤭🤭 . We’ve been through the warnings but here we go again . Let me know what y’all think ! .

WARNINGS : rough sex , Mike being a stressed lil baby . P in v , creampie *wrap it* , choking , degradation, praise , breeding kink , a lil aftercare and Mike being a sweetheart at the end 🫶🏼.

*ain’t a pic from the movie but y’all get the point*

Today was rough for both of y’all to say the least. Mikes on his last straw at Freddy’s and you have been going through your pms and to be honest. People have been testing both of y’all’s patience.

For the past hour , you and Mike have been testing each other’s patience. Half on purpose and have because in some impulsive way . You both wanna see who breaks first.

“ y’know . If I were you I would just quit.. amazes me that you don’t have the sense to Mike” you say looking off into the doorway of the other room where Mike stands as he turns around with a glare.

“ I’m honestly hoping that whatever your on passes soon cause I’m getting tired of your mouth”

“ yeah and I’m tired of you coming home all mad and shit” . You mummer as Mike comes over and sits down a few feet away from you with that glare.. the one where you know he’s about to either snap or fuck the living shit outta you.

Being the tease you always were. You had a sly smile as you said “ what Mikey.. what’s wrong” with a laugh and before you could make another remark . Mike got up , picked you up and threw over his shoulders with a yelp from you. Maybe you really did have an effect on him.

He finally put you down on his bed and without another word you and him got right into a heated kiss and his hands through your hair and you played with his curls. Running your hand down to his sweatpants he put on. Thank the lord Abby’s with Vanessa tonight. “ I’m gonna make you forget about your little attitude problem” he whispered into your ear.

“ please mike..touch me” you begged as he obeyed and flipped you over so now your face down ass up. Since in your make out session he already took off your shirt he just yanked down your shorts and tore off your god damn underwear. “ I liked that pair Mikey” . He grabbed your jaw.. even when he was angry he still *tried* to be gentle.

By now he’s on your clit . Sucking almost too hard and pushing his tongue in and out leaving you sprawled out with your eyes shut and mouth agape . “ fuck.. shit! God damnit Mikey” you cussed as you gripped at his hair . You could practically almost feel his smile on your cunt

“ is it that good?.. fucking slut” this honestly just made you fucking cream on the spot. As your hips bucked up and you came all over his lips. He quickly got up pulling you down roughly as he shoved off his boxers . Practically needy himself.

“ now listen.. I’m gonna fuck your little cunt And take out all my stress and I’m gonna need you to be good f’me understand” . “Mhm..” you said before with no warning he put himself in you and set up a heavy rhythm. Slamming into your hole over and over again

“Mikey..god damnit please” . You pleaded which he quickly shut down. “ uh uh.. you fucked with me and now look where it got you. Under me getting fucked like a w-whore “ he stuttered as he was coming undone but not giving up . His eyes still with that fucking glare in them as he brought his lips down to yours .

His rhythm continues as he pounds into you earning your whimpers as he simply stares down with awe . You looked so good.. so pretty being pounded by his cock. He couldn’t help it . He honestly just needed to fuck the attitude out of you .

As by now the overstimulation was at a high as he kept pounding now with tears almost falling. “ Mikey..please m’gonna cum” . “Then cum” he said as a few curses fell from him as he was getting close himself as within a few more strokes . You let go on his cock. Covering It in your cum.

“ y’know what.. maybe if I feel you up with all my fuckin cum you’ll learn your lesson huh? Maybe get you nice and pregnant” . Now kids weren’t on your mind but god damn if getting filled up by his load didn’t sound good . And apparently this pushed him over the edge as you whimpered a “mhm..please” . As he shot rope after rope of his load inside you.

He finally collapsed down beside you as he held your hand as his gaze finally softened.

“ I’m sorry if I uh..lost it” you laughed a lil as you reassured him that he was fine. You could tell he was kinda Sorry but besides that you kissed him and kissed him . Just laying there in his bed . In the end , you both needed it anyway.

——-

How is it y’all🤭.

[thebestofoneshots]

Gilded Constellations | (wolfstar x reader)

Series Masterlist | Previous episode

Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 7.9 K Warnings: None Prompt: Slug Party goes awry... This IS a Wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it. Proofread by lovely: @aremuslupinsimp

Chapter 36: Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy

December, 21st, 1976

Remus wasn’t sure what he should wear to the party. He had sent a letter to his parents telling them about the invitation. He had omitted it had been you who invited him rather than Slughorn, and his father seemed pretty thrilled about his son being a member of the Slug club. 

Lyall wasn’t the kind of parent to be strict with his child’s grades, not in a literal sense at least, regardless he would very often tell Remus how important it was that he was among the best, and that being able to study magic at Hogwarts had been a privilege to him. That it only happened because of how lucky he’d gotten, and that he should be thankful to Dumbledore for giving him the opportunity and that the best way of proving his gratitude would be to be exceptionally good at his studies. 

Especially because, when he eventually joined the Registry of Magical Creatures, the only thing he’d have to prove his worth as a wizard would be his academic achievements. If Remus did badly in his studies, his father wouldn’t be angry, rather he’d be disappointed, and Remus hated disappointing people. So while there wasn’t actually a pressure put on his shoulder by his father, there was a pressure set by himself, one to make sure he’d keep his father content and proud. 

In the end, his father had only cornered Remus into pressuring himself. Of course, Lyall didn’t know this, nor did Hope, they thought their child was perfect just because he was, while Remus sometimes felt the need to put an extra effort to fulfil their expectations. Everyone’s expectations. Sometimes he wished he could be more like Sirius, careless and loud but he couldn’t give himself such a luxury, perhaps that’s why he was so attracted to him.

At least it wasn’t that hard, Remus was already clever and being friends with the other Marauders and Lily had helped him to strengthen his abilities from the very beginning, making him a better wizard than he ever would have been without them. And recently, you as well, you were making him a better wizard too, even if he always felt awfully selfish for wanting you, and your godric-damned gorgeous boyfriend.

Remus was still rummaging through his trunk trying to find something nice. His father had told him that he had to wear something elegant, preferably his suit, but Remus had no idea where the hell he had placed it. Hope, on the other hand, had written to tell him that he should pay his father no mind and that those silly elitist wizard parties –which she had concluded was what they were (accurately) after Lyall told her about them– shouldn’t be worrying him too much. She did ask him who he’d be inviting, and he had responded he’d be going with you. 

Lyall and Hope already knew about you, they knew you had arrived at school and Remus had mentioned that you had become close. Hope had mentioned at some point that he should ask you on a date, but Remus responded to her letter by telling her you were going out with Sirius, which Hope didn’t seem to understand. Especially when some of the things Remus had described in his letters were the kinds of things a girl who was very much in love with her son would do. Of course, Hope knew nothing more than the few things that Remus had said in his letters, about how kind you were, how funny you were, and how you were an incredibly talented witch. And yet, somehow she clearly knew better than all of you combined. 

Now, Hope knew how close Remus was to Sirius and she was not about to tell him to pursue you, but she definitely expected to have a small chat with him once they met again in New Year. Remus had chosen to stay at Hogwarts during Christmas, to recover after the moon. She wasn’t too happy about that, she’d much prefer having her son with her during the moon, but Lyall insisted that Remus wasn’t the small wolf she had taken care of in the past, though still incredibly dangerous, the wolf had been a lot easier to control. 

Besides, Remus much preferred staying at Hogwarts now, the Shrieking Shack, even if still a cage, was much bigger than the small silver-coated cage they had at home, which while absolutely safe, was also incredibly painful for Moony, and caused much more desperate clawing from the wolf which in turn, left Remus a lot worse off. 

“What’s with the sour face?” James asked when he spotted Remus kneeling on the floor looking defeated. 

The boy huffed in response, “I can’t find the fucking suit.” 

“You’re going with a suit?” 

“You’re not?!” 

“Should I?” 

“Of course! It’s a Christmas Party, James!” 

“You think Lily will wear an elegant dress?” He asked, “Oh I should ask what colour it is so I can match with her.” 

Remus almost rolled his eyes as he leaned down and started looking through his trunk again, “Vixen might not be here, but even I can tell you how much of a terrible idea that is…” 

“It’s a grand gesture, mate! You don’t understand romance.” 

“I’ve had more dates than you ever have,” Remus defended. 

“And yet… you’ve never had a girlfriend. Because you don’t do grand gestures.” 

Remus huffed again, sure next time he’ll match Sirius’s fucking outfit and hope he does not get punched in the face. He wasn’t sure if Sirius or you would be the one to throw fists first thought. He kept moving things around on his trunk before sitting back with an annoyed sigh. “No fucking suit.” 

“I can lend you something,” James said with a shrug and pulled out a dark blue pair of pants, waistcoat and matching long gown. “Just find a shirt and tie that matches,” the boy said with a shrug. 

“You think these will fit?” Remus asked as he gave them a weary look. 

“You can charm them to fit better if you want,” James said with a shrug. Remus kept looking at them wearily but nodded and placed them on his bed. 

Sirius, who had been off somewhere, appeared shortly after Remus stepped out of the showers, and James got in.

“You ready?” he asked, even if he could clearly see Remus still had a towel slung across his waist. 

“Yeah, I was planning to go like this and moon everyone when it was time to dance,” Remus replied sarcastically, he was a little touchy. Probably because of how close the moon was and because of how much time he had wasted trying to find something to wear. 

“Ugh Pissy Moony,” Sirus said with a grimace as he sat on Remus’ bed and took a look at James’ suit. He easily figured James had borrowed it and felt a pang of jealousy over the fact that Remus would ask James for help instead of him. Or perhaps it was because Moony would wear James’ clothes instead of something from him. Then again, it was a dumb thing to be jealous about, Sirius’ tailored clothes wouldn’t fit Remus at all. Sirius was shorter and skinnier. Still, he wasn’t too happy about it, he realised as he passed his hand over the soft blue fabric. “What will you be wearing with this?”

Remus shrugged in response, “White shirt, some tie that matches I guess.” 

Sirius didn’t seem convinced, “I’ll find you something,” he said as he kneeled down next to the boy’s dresser and started looking through his drawers. 

“Sirius,” Remus called, but he was too focused on the dresser to realise. “Sirius!” He repeated, a little louder this time. 

Sirius just hummed in response, turning his head to look at the other boy as he leaned back a little, a casual thing Sirius would do rather often that made Remus gulp, he looked beautiful, as fucking always. Remus had been about to tell the boy that he should mind his own fucking business, but there was no way to tell him that now. 

“Just… pass me my briefs, will you?” 

Sirius, without even turning, pulled the top left drawer, grabbed a pair and threw it back to Remus “There you go,” he said simply and went back to looking through Remus’ stuff. Remus sighed and continued getting dressed, passing the briefs under the towel before taking it off. “What do you think Starshine will wear?” 

The other boy shrugged, “A dress or something I suppose, she knows a good deal of magic etiquette.” 

“Bet she’ll look hot.” 

Remus didn’t respond to that, it wasn’t like he could just agree with Sirius out loud, “She’ll dress nicely I assume.” 

“Oh, this is great!” Sirius said as he pulled out a dark navy shirt, just slightly lighter than the suit James had borrowed. 

“So dark?” Remus asked as he leaned over, he was already wearing the pants James had borrowed, they were a little tight but they fit him well, Sirius noticed. 

“Yeah! This shirt looks dashing on you mate! It’s the one you wore to the Christmas Party last year.” 

Remus did not remember that fact out of the bat, so he had to think back and try to remember exactly what he had worn that day at the Potters. They had sneaked out some alcohol from Monty’s collection –Monty knew, but pretended not to notice– and then they had all sneaked into James’ room and drank until they were too pissed to remember much of the rest of the night.

Sirius, on the other hand, remembered the exact outfit Remus had worn, first because he thought Remus looked incredible with that shirt and wondered why he didn't wear it more often, and second, because when Peter had dared Remus to take off his shirt, he had complied, and Sirius had found it at some point and used it as his pillow for the rest of the night. He thought it also smelled nice. 

“I guess you’re right,” Remus said with a small frown, still trying to remember the shirt as Sirius stood and placed it on the bed, passing his wand over it with a quick straightening spell to make it look as neat as he remembered it had looked on Remus. It was then that Sirius started thinking of the fact that, while he clearly remembered what Remus had worn perfectly, he couldn’t quite recall what either Peter or James had been wearing. 

“Done,” Sirius said once he placed his wand back in his pocket and gently passed the unbuttoned shirt to Remus, stepping back when he realised he was about to help him button it. 

“Thanks, mate,” Remus said and grabbed the shirt to put it on. Sirius sat back down on Remus’ bed as his friend finished getting his shirt on. And then passed him the waistcoat. Sirius realised, almost a little too late, that he was most definitely checking Remus out while he did. “Does it look bad?” 

“What? No, why?” Sirius said, a little caught off guard. 

“You’ve been staring?” 

Have I? Fuck I have. “Just thinking of what tie you can wear with it,” Sirius said, hoping it was convincing enough.

“Oh,” Remus replied simply as he pulled the coat on, while it was on the tighter side, it wasn’t uncomfortably so, and the colour did nicely suit him. He was about to ask Sirius if he thought you’d like it and realised what a terrible idea that was, so he just shut his mouth. “Which tie?” 

Sirius seemed to be taken aback by the question but then nodded and went to his trunk. He was sure to have some ties somewhere, he did not remember taking them out before the whole chaos at home and his trunk had ended up being delivered to the Potters along with a note that said that he was a bIood traitor and that he was no longer welcomed at home. It was a house though, that had never been his home. 

Sirius kept looking until he found a thick tie that shifted in colour as he took it from his trunk. First, it was blue, then it was brown, and then it was something between burgundy and purple. Remus raised one of his eyebrows “A magic tie?” 

Sirius shrugged, “It’ll match your outfit… or Starshine’s, sometimes she’s whimsical like that?” 

“Your girlfriend?” 

“The tie,” Sirius clarified. 

Remus groaned, “James is so gonna tease me about it,” he said as he placed his hand over his head. Sirius approached him and slid the tie across his friend’s neck, carefully raising the collar and letting his fingers brush over Remus’ neck only for a second before going back to his thing. He tried not to think of the shiver he felt from how warm Remus was. Had touching him always felt like that? “I know how to tie a tie,” Remus said as he observed Sirius. The shorter boy was deeply focused on his task. 

“Yeah, but you don’t have a clue how to do an Eldredge Knot, do you?” 

Remus scoffed, while he had no idea what an Eldredge Knot looked like, let alone how to do it, he was also a little offended that Sirius would just assume he didn’t.  “Well maybe I do,” he said as he grabbed onto the tie, his hands over Sirius’ as he tried to shake him away, but the boy didn’t budge. The way Remus’ hands wrapped around his made him think of yours, and then compare, his were larger, they felt nice around his own. 

But Sirius was really trying not to focus on said things. “Come on Moons, let me help,” he said simply, looking up at Remus’ eyes. He could see Sirius’ thick black lashes and he fought hard not to gulp from how close they were. 

“Whatever,” Remus said as he took his hands from Sirius and let them fall on his side, placing them on his pockets right after since he had no idea what to do with them. Sirius continued his task, while Remus tried to look anywhere but at him, at his slightly furrowed brows, and his cute little mouth with his lips pressed in a thin line as he breathed slowly. Why did he have to go and be so ridiculously pretty? Remus wondered as he gave him a short glance and then looked away again. Sirius was taking a hell of a lot of time with his damned tie. “You done?” 

“Chist,” Sirius shushed him as he continued trying to focus, it was way easier when you did it to yourself than when you did it backwards. Remus started to slowly tap his foot, yet another way to distract him from how close Sirius stood. Close enough to feel his warm breath fan against his neck. 

“Hey Sirius…” The other boy hummed in response. “Thanks…”  

“’S what friends are for,” Sirius said simply, hands tightening the knot as he pulled back just a little to look at Moony. His gaze quickly forgetting the tie and focusing on his friend’s face. On his chocolaty brown eyes that looked a lot more golden today than normal. The moon was close, after all. Regardless, it was a good look on Remus. Sirius smiled, “You look handsome,” he said honestly, it rolled so naturally off his tongue, he was almost surprised he hadn’t said it to Remus more often. 

A blush started to creep up Remus’ neck when the door of their room opened, his head snapped to it and you stood there, looking at the two boys with a small smile. The two of them looking back at you. You had your hair down and wore a white, iridescent dress with lace on top, a turtle neck and a long-sleeved top that flared down at the bottom into a puffy skirt and fell down just before your ankles. You had a matching pair of shoes. The lace was delicate and had a star on the left shoulder and some other wind and sky motifs all around.

You looked like… the moon. Except Remus had never thought of the moon as pretty before. 

Sirius looked at you with a smile “Claire de Lune,” Sirius said affectionately. Remus didn’t even feel jealous at the way the other boy was looking at you, in fact, he was rather thankful Sirius was so focused on you and wasn’t paying attention to him or the way he was looking at you. 

You smiled at Sirius praising, “Thought I was Starshine,” you teased with a smile, twirling around and letting the dress flow, the iridescence being a lot more evident. “Comet helped me charm it,” you explained, “kind of like her dress at the Halloween party.” 

Remus’ tie had already become the same shade of iridescent white. “You look delightful, I’m almost jealous it’ll be Moony the one to parade you around instead of me,” Sirius said as he walked closer to you, placing his hand on yours and twirling you around once more. You laughed but let him have his fun, especially since he wasn’t going to go to the party. Remus stared at the two of you dancing around to no music and smiled, James came out of the bathroom all dressed up shortly after. 

“Looking great Moony,” he said when he spotted Remus, “you too Vix.” 

“Thanks,” you said while Sirius stopped the dancing to look at James reproachfully. 

“Way to leave your handsomest friend out.” 

“You’re not dressed up,” James said simply, “You look exactly the same as every day… maybe a little scruffy,” James added with a smirk, he knew he’d piss Sirius off. “Hair’s a little messy,” he added as he pointed at his head. 

Sirius gasped and was about to respond when you took his face in your hands and dragged him to look at you, pulling one stray hair and placing it back on its spot “Well, I think you look handsome.” 

“She’s lying to make you feel better,” James insisted. 

“I’ll get Lily to hex you, James,” you warned, the messy-haired boy took a step back, as if genuinely scared of your friendly threat.

Sirius gave you a small satisfied smile before leaning in to steal a short kiss from your lips. 

“Ugh, get a room!” James complained. 

“Find a different place to change,” Sirius retorted as he leaned again to kiss you again, partly because he could never get enough of you, partly because your lips helped him forget the weird feeling he was getting whenever he was around Remus alone and partly to spite James. “Moony doesn’t mind, right Moons?” 

Remus really tried not to choke at that, “Not at all,” he managed to say. 

“See, it only is a you problem,” Sirius said with a shrug. “I won’t be telling you to get a room whenever you bring Lily over to snog.” 

“We’ve never snogged here though,” you clarified. Sirius gave James an exaggerated wink and you elbowed him when you realised. Remus couldn’t help but laugh at your dynamic. 

“Ready, Little Witch?” he asked politely. 

You turned to him with a smile, same smile you had when you were looking at Sirius, only now being less entertained by your boyfriend and noticing how handsome your friend looked. “When you are,” you said simply.  Remus walked closer to you and tilted his head, an invitation for you to follow behind him. 

“I want her back before 12,” Sirius joked pointing at Remus.

You laughed before Remus had the chance to say anything “Sure thing, and I want you to stay out of trouble for a whole week, but neither of us will get what we wish, will we?” 

“I could stay out of trouble for a week!” Sirius scoffed, slightly offended. 

You raised your eyebrows at that statement and eyed Remus. “Has he ever?” 

Remus shook his head , lips pressed tightly before he added, “Nope.” 

“Remus!” Sirius whined. 

“Just stating the facts,” Remus replied with a shrug, a diverted shine in his eyes as he stared at his beautiful best friend.  

“Ugh! Stop flirting, you’re all making me feel lonelier,” James said as he threw a pillow at the three of you. 

“Oi!” you said as you straightened your clothes. “You’ll ruin my dress…” you added with a frown. 

“Yeah James, stop messing with her. How would you feel if I go around throwing pillows at Evans,” Sirius defended. 

“She’d hex you,” James responded with a shrug. 

“Perhaps I should hex you,” you said under your breath while Remus laughed. “You’re lucky we’re friends.”

James threw a wink your way and you grumbled something about throwing him off his broom. Sirius took the fact that you were busy still straightening your clothes to pick a piece of pillow fluff that had fallen on Remus’ coat. The boy straightened slightly at the way Sirius closed the gap between the two of them. “What?” he asked, looking at Sirius almost warily, he didn’t want to admit the way his heart would race at Sirius so much as stepping into his personal space like that. 

The shorter boy just grabbed the fluff and showed it to Remus, moving his hand from side to side before blowing it away. You finally lifted your head, almost curiously looking at the way Remus was staring at Sirius, and then at the way Sirius was staring back. You tilted your head, it was oddly familiar, but you just couldn’t quite pinpoint why. You narrowed your eyes at the two, the connections in your brain happening at lightning speed only to be interrupted by an urgent knock on the door, everyone turned their heads towards it and then at each other as if wondering if they had invited anyone over. 

“James! We’re gonna be late,” Lily’s voice said from the other side of the door. You walked over and opened the door, letting her in. 

“Oh, hey luv, I’ve actually brought this over for you, thought it would go with your dress,” She said as she handed over the moon and star ring your mom had given you a while ago, Remus took a step back, looking at Lily almost offended. She was wearing a green dress that looked delightful with her hair, James pretty much gaped at her as she was putting on a pair of jade earrings that matched the dress, not even noticing the way he was staring.

“Shut your mouth mate, you’ll get lacewing flies,” Sirius teased. Lily, who had not noticed James staring turned almost as red as her hair as she turned to look at James and their eyes locked for a second. 

“I’ve seen you gape at Vixen way more times than I can count…” James started to complain.

You weren’t listening anymore, their bickering fading into the background when you took the ring from your palm and placed it on your finger, only then realising that Remus was looking to the side rather dejected, “You’re…” he fucking hated having to ask, “you’re not actually gonna wear that, right?” 

You turned to him slightly confused at first and then smiled, something akin to a smirk, and extended your hand towards him “Give me your hand.” Remus tilted his head to the side reproachfully, trying to tell you that of course he fucking couldn’t, even if he wanted to, without having to say “I’m a werewolf, I can’t” out loud. 

Even then you kept your hand up, “Trust me,” you added confidently. Remus seemed hesitant but did as told, tentatively placing his fingers over yours, avoiding touching the ring entirely. It was merely a brush of his fingers over your hand, and he was about ready to pull away when you pushed your hand forwards and yanked his, grabbing firmly onto it. He tried to pull back, wincing, as if ready to feel the stinging of the metal, eyes closed and a deep frown etched on his face. And then, it cleared, slowly as he eyed you, then both of your hands, his brows furrowing again, this time it was softer, his eyes were searching, turning both of your hands around as if to make sure it was the same ring. 

When he was sure it was, he dug his fingers closer to yours, feeling the ring from the back and then bringing in his other hand, brushing over your knuckles before letting them fall over the ring. “We transfigured it,” you said proudly. “I asked Lily and Pete to help me, since both Sirius and I had hurt you with it, I thought it was the right thing to do. Took us weeks to get it right.” 

“Weeks…” Remus repeated, still fascinated over the fact that he could touch the ring, or perhaps he was fascinated more by the way your small hand looked next to his. Of course, he had held your hand before, but it had always been in situations in which it was either dark, you were running, or you had something else to pay attention to, never had Remus actually seen it. So much smaller in comparison to his, so much softer and smoother. There was a bit of hardened skin near your thumb from how hard you gripped your quill sometimes and there were also fading broom marks in the top part of your palm, whatever potion Sirius had given you was erasing them quickly. 

You nodded, also paying attention to the way your hands looked next to each other. Sirius’ hands were large, perhaps as large as Remus’, but there was something about the way Remus held your hands, almost venerating, that made you just as curious as it seemed to make him, of course, you assumed he was just fascinated by the fact that he could touch the ring now. “It’s stainless steel,” you explained, “absolutely harmless, like the charm on the necklace Peter made,” you added with another prideful smile. 

He smiled almost shyly and felt silly at the fact that he had been worried before, of course, you’d never do anything that could hurt him (at least consciously), in fact, he now noticed that he hadn’t seen you wear the ring since that time at the infirmary when you had discovered he was a werewolf, he’d just assumed Sirius hadn’t given it back yet. 

“Oh, he’s seen the ring?” Sirius asked, only now finishing his bickering with James and leaning his chin on your shoulder as he stared at Remus’ hands holding yours, he thought it looked right. “I take it, it worked?” 

You nodded and hummed in reply, beaming proudly at your achievement, “He knew?” breaking his sight away from your hands and looking straight at Sirius. He looked unfairly adorable, the two of you did. Remus still didn’t remove his hands from yours, perhaps he was pushing it, but he didn’t care much if he was, he didn’t want to stop holding you. If Sirius could have his hands on your waist and his head perched on your shoulder, he could at least have your hand. He would be your date tonight either way. 

Only because Sirius didn’t want to go, a pesky little voice reminded him. 

But then again, Sirius would never pass up the opportunity to rub it on people’s faces that he was with you, let alone with the sight you were in that dress. Why was it he didn’t want to go again? He’d have to ask you later. 

“Sirius helped me swipe the metal transfiguration book from the restricted section,” you said with a smile, “he thought it was a brilliant idea when I told him about it, and that it could also help me practise transfiguration, it was the same Peter had used. Lily helped me confirm it wasn’t silver anymore with muggle science. Something about dension or something.”

“Density luv, we used Archimedes' principle,” she said before going back to her chat with James. 

“Muggle magic,” you said with a shrug, “Lily taught me the formulas to make the equations, but she always checked to make sure I was doing it correctly.” 

“So many muggle words in one sentence,” Sirius said as he shook his head and huffed. 

“You learned algebra and physics for this?” Remus asked, almost laughing as he pulled your hand up to show your ring. 

Sirius huffed, “Of course, Moony would know exactly what you were talking about.” 

“Mum taught me a lot of muggle stuff, they didn’t think I’d be allowed in Hogwarts,” Remus said, almost as a throw-off comment. “You bunch of purebloods would obviously have no idea what they are. Especially physics, since what we do here destroys most of their principles.” 

“Prove A, I changed the material of the ring,” you said with a smile. “Still, it was useful, we should be taught more muggle stuff…. Although, I do think that muggle ironsmith from your story could have used a good transfiguration spell.”

“You told her the story?” Remus asked with a frown, still holding your hand, though he was letting it hang a little more. 

“Of course, I told her the story! Last time I said eureka she was looking at me like I had just made up a word.” 

“Sounds like a spell,” Sirius said with a simple shrug and took his wand out, “do you think–” 

“NO!” Remus, Lily and you, all said at the same time. Remus had finally let go of your hand, raising both of his as a warning. 

Sirius seemed taken aback. “I tried it,” you explained, turning your face to him slightly. “Almost blew up our dorm.” The way his hair tickled your cheek felt oddly nice. 

“It’s Ancient Greek, it could mean anything,” Remus said with a shrug, “Not a great idea to infuse it with magic if you don’t know what you’re doing.” 

“You never told me about almost blowing up your room,” Sirius said with a raised eyebrow.

“We had it under control,” you responded with a shrug, “thought it’d be a funny story for another time.” 

“Pads, are you done hogging your girlfriend? We’ve got a party to attend to…” Prongs teased. 

“Go snog Lily and leave us alone,” Sirius said with a pout as he tightened his grip on your waist, fuck he looked adorable, the two of you did, Remus thought it really wasn’t fucking fair. 

“No one is snogging anyone here,” Lily said, almost scandalised. James pouted at her and she swatted him lightly. 

“Speak for yourself,” Sirius said as he pursed his lips your way in a rather exaggerated manner. You were laughing as you playfully tried to push him away. Remus sighed as he looked at the two, first wishing he was you, to be the one that Sirius tried to kiss, and then wishing he was Sirius, the one who had permission to hold you so tight and place kisses all over your face. 

Eventually, he tore his eyes from the two of you and eyed his watch, “We’ll be late. I may not know much about pure bIood and customs or whatever, but I’m sure being on time is important.” 

“Unless you’re fashionably late,” Sirius said, pressing one last kiss to your cheek and taking a step back, still keeping his hands on your shoulders. 

“There is no such thing,” you said, turning to Sirius. 

“Oh, there isn’t?” He asked with a smirk, almost innocently as he took a few steps back, “must have heard Walburga wrong when she was talking about it.” After he spoke, he allowed himself to fall on Remus’ bed again. It was the closest bed, but that wasn’t the reason. Sirius didn’t know why he would let himself lie on his friend’s bed instead of his, but sometimes it just felt warmer, and a lot more welcoming. Besides, it smelled rather nice.

Remus shook his head with a small smile, looking at Sirius diverted before turning his head back to you. You smiled at him and nodded towards the door, “Let’s get going.” 

As you walked to the door, Sirius raised his head a little to give you one last look “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” He said as he pointed at Sirius. 

You laughed “There isn’t much you wouldn’t do.” 

Lily, James, Remus and you arrived at the party shortly after, you hadn’t rushed much, since really it wasn’t that late, and even if you were happy to attend the party, you did not want to be the first people to arrive. 

They had used a room of the castle that you weren’t sure you’d ever visited. There were curtains draped all over the place, making the room look like the luxurious tent of an Arabian prince and you peeked your head inside before crossing the door, Remus followed behind. Lily and James walked next to each other and one of the waiters who you identified as Johnny Ackley stopped them in their tracks.

“You must kiss,” he said looking at your friends as he extended a silver tray your way. You leaned in and hovered your hand over one of the treats as Lily looked at him puzzled. “You stepped under the mistletoe,” he said simply, “It’s tradition.” 

“What?” Lily asked, a little shocked.

You eyed Remus, a devilish smile drawing on your lips as you pulled your hand slightly back from the treats and looked at your friends, “Oh yes, very important wizarding tradition, isn’t it Rem?” 

Remus held back his amused look as best as he could and nodded, “Definitely,” he agreed. 

Lily looked at you with pleading eyes and you gave her a wink. You knew she had enjoyed kissing James, she had told you how she’d done it on their date and also how she had “almost snogged” James a few nights ago. Now you weren’t sure what exactly Lily meant by “almost”, but you knew she had kissed James several times. And you also knew James would probably love the opportunity to kiss her in front of everyone. Were you being a better friend to James than you were to Lily at that moment? Maybe, but that didn’t stop you from adding a simple, “I’m sorry Lils, it’s part of the party traditions.” 

She narrowed her eyes at you and you just nodded with the same devilish smile as earlier. She huffed, defeated by the three of you, and placed her hand on James’ shoulder, who seemed just slightly surprised she’d actually go through with it. James had never kissed Lily in public, in fact, he wasn’t even sure people knew they were going out, outside of your very close friend group. Still, he leaned down at Lily’s command. And he calls Sirius a lap dog, Remus thought with a smile. Seeing James finally happy with Lily was oddly satisfying, probably what he should feel when he saw Sirius with you, but just couldn’t.

Eventually, they both kissed, a small peck at first but James leaned closer and placed his hand on Lily’s waist, while she took his head in her hands. You gave Rem a rather impressed look, and grabbed onto one of the treats. “I wouldn’t take that one,” Ackley said, “gives bad breath.” 

You narrowed your eyes and hovered over your hand on top of a different one, he shook his head, as if he knew something of that one in particular that you didn’t. You hovered your hand to a different-looking one and he nodded. You smiled and winked at him as you grabbed it, “What does this one do?” you asked as you leaned closer to him.

“It’s one of three that don’t have prank potions, and it’s actually tasty.” 

“Oh, so you’re here only to cause trouble?” you asked with a smile.

“I’m always around to cause trouble,” he responded, gave you a courteous look, and went somewhere else. 

You noticed Remus lean over, as if he too wanted one of the treats, but Ackley had already left, so you leaned closer to him. “Want some?” you asked as you raised your hand. 

“Well- I…” 

You gently leaned your hand towards his mouth, “It’s good, no potions or tricks,” you said, “At least according to Johnny.” 

He raised a questioning eyebrow at that but opened his mouth either way. You were halfway feeding him when you heard someone clear their throat rather loudly from behind Lily and James. You gave Remus a look and the two of you turned to look that way, the little treat still in your hand. 

“Would you mind snogging at a different place?” You heard Severus say in his infuriatingly slow voice as he pretty much pushed his way past James, who stumbled forward into Lily. Severus scoffed, and you stared daggers his way. 

“Mind your own damn business and leave the young couple alone,” you said stepping in front of him, “there was mistletoe.”

He merely raised an eyebrow all toffee-nosed and snobbish, and then moved his gaze behind you, noticing Remus holding his stance just a couple of steps back “Oh, so you left the wayward boyfriend at home and brought in the dangerous one instead.” 

You clenched your teeth at that, not because he implied Remus was your boyfriend, which had definitely done something to the boy, but rather because he called him dangerous. “Snape, if you continue insulting my friends like that, you’ll learn who is actually dangerous between us,” you said as you took a few steps towards him. The slimy-headed boy was taller than you, even taller than Sirius, but you didn’t let that deter you. 

He held his stance “Is that a threat?” he asked as he coed his head. 

“It’s a fucking promise, Severus.” 

“I’m not scared of you.” 

“Well, you should be…” you added as you pulled back. 

“Go mind your own business, and leave us alone Snape,” Remus interceded in a rather conciliatory tone. 

“As if I wanted to hang out with mudbloods,” he looked at Lily, then nodded towards James and you, “BIood traitors and mixed-raced abominations,” he added the last bit looking straight at Moony. 

You missed the hurtful look in Lily’s eyes due to the shock after his first and second insult were used so casually, but it was the last bit that had your bIood boiling, instantly giving you the urge to hex him, hand itching to get to your wand, but you somehow managed to hold back and use your tongue instead of your magic to fight back; after all fae were known for their sharp as knife words. 

“The only thing that’s abominating here is your disgusting greasy hair, Severus. Do you even know what shampoo is?” He gave you a hateful look. And that’s when you threw the real jab– you scoffed with a despicable sneer and added, “To think you wanted Lily to like you back. Bet she wouldn’t go out with you even if you were the last person on earth.” 

Severus seemed to be taken aback by that, and Lily, who had been watching the whole scene with James after they managed to sort themselves out reacted, turning to you with a gasp, “(Y/N)!”. James tightened his grip on her shoulder reassuringly. 

“Am I lying?” you said simply as you turned to her. 

She gave you a pleading look, still trying to deal with the fact that Severus had called her a Mudblood again and the fact that her noble heart couldn’t quite let go of the friendship she had once shared with him, Lily didn’t want to hurt him either,  “I– well I…” 

You nodded, “There’s your answer,” you added turning your head back at Severus with a satisfied expression, he was looking at you coldly. “Go apparate somewhere where they actually want you.” And that last bit might have been overkill, “If such a place really exists.” 

“(Y/N)!” Lily said again. Severus took his wand out and pointed it at your face, completely riled up by your poisonous words. And she looked at him shocked “Severus!” she chided, trying to appease him.

You didn’t back up at all, and you didn’t motion to grab your wand either, just gave Severus the same look he’d given you earlier. Your head leaned back slightly, a daring look plastered all over your features. You heard Remus shift behind you, the boy was ready to push you out of the way if it was necessary. But then, something none of you would have ever expected happened. Evan Rosier walked over and placed his hand on Severus’ shoulder. 

You narrowed your eyes at him, but Rosier only pulled the other Slytherin and started to drag him away, “Come on Severus, Barty was looking for you,” he said as he took him away. 

You were about to respond to that when you felt Remus’ hand wrap around your arm, you turned your gaze to him and he gave you a simple warning look. 

“Yeah, listen to your perilous boyfriend little trollop,” Snape muttered loud enough for you to hear as he left, you snapped your head his way, jaw clenching, but Remus tightened his grip around your arm, his thumb rubbing soothing circles as he shook his head. You huffed, threw another hateful look his way but didn’t say more. 

Lily approached you with a rather hurt look “What the hell was that?” 

You were completely taken aback by that, “Pardon?” 

“You knew what you said would hurt him. And you used your words like weapons, he could have hexed you.” 

“I should have hexed him first,” you said and Lily gave you another reproachful look, “Lils he was being an asshole! Calling all of us those nasty things, you included!” 

Her face had that hurt look again, but she shook her head and focused her gaze on you again. “Maybe, but that doesn’t mean you have to stump to his level.” You let those words sink in, your eyes moving rapidly as you tried to process what she said, “it’s the most Slytherin thing I’ve ever seen you do. Did you even think how it might make me feel?” 

“I– I wasn’t… Lily, I would never–” 

“But you did,” she said, now looking more upset than angry, she shook her head with a huff and bit her tongue as if she knew she had probably used her own words like knives and had started to regret it after they came out of her mouth. “I’m going for some punch,” she added and walked towards the furthest wall. 

James looked at you, an apologetic expression on his face, “You okay Vix?” Remus placed his hand on your shoulder. 

“Yeah I’m–” you cut yourself off, “you should go check on Lily.”

“But–” 

“She’s upset James, you heard what he called her. I can’t go after her but you should.” 

He leaned his head to the side, as if contemplating his options and then looked at Remus who nodded, James mirrored his actions and ran behind Lily. As you saw his messy hair disappear in between the curtains you let out a long sigh. 

Remus was looking at you and saw you shake your head as if you were contemplating whether to say something or not and then, you turned to him, “You still want some?” you said as you offered the treat still in your hands. He gave you a look, eyebrows raised. “What?” 

“You’re just going to pretend all that didn’t happen?” 

You swallowed, “I don’t want to talk about it…” you said as you avoided his gaze, he gave you some time, still looking at you and you sighed again, “Was I really that much of a Slytherin?” 

Remus sighed himself, “You’ve always had bite, I don’t think that makes you any less of a Gryffindor.” 

“But I upset her…” you said with a huff, “and the hat did consider me putting me in Slytherin, and you all say I’m cunning and–”

“Hey,” he said calmly, easily getting your attention, “Lily was upset–” 

“Because I upset her!” 

Remus gave you a look, “Lily was upset because Severus was being a prick. And then you said something that upset her even further. And while I do think you would have been brilliant Slytherin,“ your gaze fell, “that’s because I think you would have been brilliant in whichever house the hat put you in. You’re smart and loyal and cunning,” he said calmly, shaking your shoulder just enough for you to look at him “but you know what?” he leaned down to catch your gaze, “I’ve never met someone as stupidly brave as you.” You smiled, finally looking at him. “Well, perhaps James, but… we all know he’s a bit more stupid than he is brave,” he said the last bit in a whisper, sure that it would make you laugh. 

You smiled, “Oh Remus…” you added, dragging the e from his name, “I’ll keep those words stored in my brain to blackmail you one day,” you joked. 

“See, you would have thrived with the snakes,” he joked again and you punched him lightly, which just got him to laugh. Remus’ laugh was awfully contagious and you laughed alongside him.

“Still want some?” you asked as you raised the treat again. Remus huffed a laugh and nodded, opening his mouth again as you leaned the small snack to his face. He leaned forward just a little and gave it a bite, eating about half of it. 

“Mmm, it’s actually really good,” he said as he covered his mouth to speak. 

You shrugged and brought it to your own face, taking what he’d left and plopping it all in your mouth. You took a bit more time savouring it like he did, and then nodded, completely agreeing with him. Once you swallowed, you spoke again. “Delightful,” you said, “thought we should be careful with Ackley’s tray, he’s charmed a good deal of them.” And then you got an idea, “Actually…” 

Remus shook his head with a small, worried frown. “That’s your ‘I’ve got an idea’ face.” 

“Is it?” you asked with an innocent tone. 

“We’ll never get invited again if you cause havoc,” he whispered. 

“Oh Remus, we are not going to be the ones causing the havoc,” you said with a smirk. 

While Remus tried to be the reasonable one, he could not resist the way your lips curled up into a sly, very fox-like smile, nor could he resist the temptation that your eyes shone with. He had never been the biggest fan of religious tales, of temptation or whatnot. But if you were Eve, and you had been persuaded by the snake to take the forbidden fruit, and then you’d turned to him with that same look, he sure would have also forgotten all the rules any sort of god imposed on him and given the fruit a bite, not because of how tasty the forbidden fruit looked, but because of the way he might have expected to be looked at by you afterwards. He wouldn’t have just given it a bite, he would have gobbled it and then many more if that made you happy. Perhaps it was Moony more than Remus, but he thrived in the excitement of pleasing you, even if it was just this once. 

Yes, Remus always wanted approval and respect from Lyall, he wanted to make him proud, but he had never wanted to make anyone as proud as he wanted to make you feel at that particular moment. He had never felt that craving to satisfy someone else’s desires. Except perhaps, for every time Sirius gave him a similar look.

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A/N: Some people were asking for a snow day chapter, and this felt about the perfect time for it. Love playing in the snow with the boys &lt;3 Upon some requests, we have a DISCORD server now and you can all join in and chat about marauders and/or GC with other lovely people. If you wanna discuss a new oneshot or even the new chapters of GC this is your place to go. The announcement for it is here and I'll leave links to it on a reblog of this post ad in the comments.

Read more Marauders Fiction

[thebeast-dennis-etcetera]

Death of Me

It was official. You were going to murder your husband. How many times had you told him to be careful. To not put himself in harms way anymore than absolutely necessary. He’d always tell you not to worry while giving you that damn smile that had you believing every word he said. And now you were rushing to the hospital for the second time in the month because of a phone call letting you know that Jethro had been hurt.

Tim met you in the hospital lobby, bypassing the check in and you both entered the elevators.

“How bad is it Tim?”

“Well he’s recovered from worse but you’ll definitely need to keep him from overdoing it for a few days.”

You gave him a look before speaking. “Yeah. And I’ll teach him to speak Mandarin while I’m at it.”

Tim led you out of the elevators and down the hall to his room but stopped you before you headed in.

“Just a heads up. Since he came out of surgery, he’s been a little out of it. I think the Morphine is really kicking his ass.”

“Hm. Well better that than me. Thanks Tim.”

You gave him a grateful hug and walked into the dim hospital room. As soon as your eyes fell on him, all anger dissipated. He was asleep, shirtless and left shoulder bandaged up. His face was relaxed and breaths steady, letting you know he was genuinely getting some good rest.

Not wanting to wake him up, you quietly brought a chair over and settled in it before gently taking his hand in yours. Of course even a morphine induced nap couldn’t keep him from his hypersensitive senses as he stirred, eyes fluttered open. He looked around the room before his sapphire blue eyes fell on you and stared a second before chucking to himself.

“What’s so funny?” you asked, amused.

“My wife is gonna kill me.”

He might not have recognized you in his state of delirium but at least he knew he had a wife. You decided to play along, not seeing the hurt.

“Oh yeah? Because you’re in the hospital for the 2nd time this month due to your over brazen behavior?” you tried hinting, wondering if it would bring back some lucidity.

“Nope. Because you’re holding my hand. And she haaates when other women touch me.”

Now it was your turn to chuckle. “Well she probably just loves you too much to share you with anyone else.”

He nodded and let go of your hand, placing it on his chest while taking a deep breath.

“Yeah. She loves me. Even when I don’t deserve it..She’s great..I wish she was here..”

Your heart broke at his melancholy words, not wanting him to think you wouldn’t show up to visit and couldn’t help but reach out to touch his arm.

“Jethro. I’m your wife.”

“Right. And I’m the king of Shri Lanka,” he joked.

There wasn’t much you could do if he wasn’t coherent enough so you settled for just sitting there next to him. After a couple of minutes he fell back asleep and you took the opportunity to take his hand in yours again.

————

“Y/N?” someone spoke, waking you out of your nap. You picked your head up from the side of Jethro’s bed and saw him looking at you in slight confusion.

“Hey Gunny,” you greeted lovingly, sitting up and grimacing at the stiffness.

“Have you been here the whole time? What time is it?”

“It’s around 6pm. You’ve been asleep since about this afternoon. Surgery went really well, I’m sure you’ll be up and chasing more bad guys again in the next couple weeks.”

You got up to pour him a cup of water as he went to try and lift his bad arm, wincing immediately, making you roll your eyes at his stubbornness.

“I don’t care if I have to lock you in your basement for the next week Jethro but you’re going to let your shoulder heal properly,” you threatened, handing him the water.

“A week isn’t necessary-

You shut him down with a look that rivaled his own and he sighed in defeat.

“Oh by the way, do you remember talking with me earlier?” you asked curiously.

“No. What did I say?”

You laughed at the apprehension in his voice and took his empty cup to set it on the table.

“Well you had no idea who I was. And chastised me for touching you, saying your wife wouldn’t be happy about it.”

“Mm. I’d say that gets me a point in the honorable husband category,” he stated proudly.

You laughed and nodded. “You’re absolutely right. How about I make my famous Chicken Parm for us tonight?”

“I’ve got nothing else to do,” he responded with a small smile.

“Damn right you don’t.”

You gave him a well waited kiss and thanked the universe for the moment. You don’t know what you would do without him and you hope to never find out.

[astermath]

fucking finally

pairing: chad meeks-martin x fem!reader

summary: the tension between you and chad finally comes to a conclusion after he takes you home from a party.

word count: 2K

warnings: cursing, porn w a bit of plot??, chad being a king and a charming mf, protected sex, oral (f receiving), MINORS DNI!!!

notes: first time writing for chad, I just found out his actor likes tattoos and anime?? what a dream man ahdshfd. anyways this was supposed to be abt something else but I got carried away, so I'll keep the other idea for another time lol. not proofread!!! lmk if you'd like to be on the tag list for further chad meeks-martin related content!

You and Chad had this strange "will they, won't they" tension going on ever since you met. You were kind of part of the friend group, sometimes tagging along to parties and hangouts, but not often enough for him to justify hanging out with you without it being a date.

And though Chad was well aware of his charm and charisma, and knew he could just ask you out, he enjoyed this thing you had going on. Though he wished it would lead to something, anything eventually.

And you felt the same. You weren't shy, you loved joking around with him, and you could tell there was something between you two. The tension had gotten to a point where his friends were practically starting to bet money on if you guys were going to hook up after each party or not.

And that night at the party was no different. The two of you jokingly (or not so jokingly) flirting back and forth, making Mindy practically lose it over your comments.

"Holy shit, can you two just like bang and get it over with already?" She sat on the couch next to Anika, an arm over her girlfriend's shoulder.

"I don't know," Chad said, his arm around you in the exact same way, "Can we?"

You rolled your eyes, legs flung over his as you sat on the couch across the other couple. "You fuckin' wish, big guy." You hid your smirk behind the plastic red cup you were sipping out of.

"Yeah," He looked at you and winked, before downing his drink, "kinda do."

The rest of the night was pretty eventful. You didn't drink that much, but you'd danced a lot, and even ran away from Chad who swore he was going to toss you into the frat house's pool.

Needless to say, you were spent. So Chad offered you a piggy back ride back to your dorm, and you happily obliged. Your cheek was squished against the back of his shoulder, eyes half closed as you gently rocked up and down along with the trudge of his steps.

"You fallin' asleep back there?" He turned his head slightly and you looked up.

"No, no... Wide awake, actually." You smiled sleepily.

"Great," He patted your thigh, "cause we've got some stairs to do."

You groaned loudly, knowing damn well he could easily do those stairs with you on his back. But you decided not to argue, hopping off his back. You wobbled for a moment, and he was ready to catch you, but you held your hand up in protest.

He walked behind you the entire way up the stairs. In case you fell, of course, not because he had a great view of your ass from that angle. Totally not. Although he had to admit the red lacy panties you wore under that skirt made an appearance in his line of sight every now and then.

You opened the door to your room and plopped face down onto your bed, groaning into the pillow. "Ugh... 'M so sore..."

He waited in the doorway for a second, grinning at how dramatic you were. "At least take your shoes off, that's just bad etiquette." He sat down on your bed and took off your shoes for you, setting them down gently.

"Yeah, well..." You turned around on the bed, an arm laid over your stomach as you looked at him. "I think threatening to throw your crush into the pool is bad etiquette too."

He smirked, scooting a little closer. "My crush huh? I didn't know we were confessing things to each other."

"Hey, I haven't confessed shit," implying you had yet to confess something to him, "but I don't see you denying anything."

He leaned in, holding himself up by his arm next to your body. You could smell him, just like when you were on his back before, and you were lying if you said it didn't turn you on at least a bit.

"I feel like it's kinda beyond denying now..." His hand gently settled onto the curve of your jaw, tilting your head slightly more towards him. You looked gorgeous underneath him like this, eyes full of curiosity and anticipation, body so receptive to every touch.

"Yeah," you smiled, "it is." You looped your arms around him, pulling him in for a sweet and passionate kiss. There was no one around you'd have to hide your desire from, no one to have to pretend for, you could just let go in front of him.

He melted into the softness of your lips, tongue slipping through to gently run across your bottom lip. Fuck he was good, of course he was, his reputation preceded him. "Well don't you just taste the sweetest..." He spoke softly, lips brushing over yours.

"Might still be from the alcohol..." You both chuckled, staying close. He took off his jacket, tossing it to the side, before going back in to your neck this time.

The taste of your perfume mixed with your natural body drove him nearly insane, pressing feverish kisses to your jaw and neck. His thigh rested in between your legs, and you were very aware of its position as you subtly your hips, grinding onto his leg.

"So impatient..." He mumbled against your neck, a hand sneaking under your top and playing with the lacy hem of your bra.

You scoffed, pushing him back a little so you could pull your top over your head, almost noticing his pupils dilate at the sight of your exposed skin. You reached your hands behind your back, ready to unhook your bra, doing so bit by bit, then slowly pulling each strap over your shoulder with a teasing smile.

He reached out to move your bra, throwing it to the side to join his jacket on the floor. He palmed at your chest, eliciting a soft moan from you against his lips, the kiss growing more heated by the second. He felt your smile and pulled back slightly. "Who's impatient now, huh?"

He grinned, leaning back to pull off his own shirt. "Shut up." He shuffled a little further down the bed and pressed kisses to the exposed skin of your thighs. Bless you and your love for skimpy skirts...

You bit your lip, a soft giggle escaping you when he dragged his tongue over your inner thigh. "Why don't you make me, huh?" You knew it was a stereotypical comeback, but you couldn't help yourself, your mind wasn't functioning properly at that moment.

"Nah," he said, hooking his fingers around the hem of your skirt and slowly pulling it down, along with your panties. "you sound way too pretty to keep your mouth shut." He pressed a soft kiss right above your pussy, and a shiver of anticipation went over your entire body.

You arched your back when he ran his tongue over your slicked, silky folds, hands gripping your thighs and pulling them to rest over his shoulders. Your hands reached back to grip the pillow your upper half was resting on, whimpering his name softly. You could practically feel his grin against your cunt from the reactions you were giving him, but fuck, it felt so good, you could care less about how desperate you were being.

His tongue found your clit and your thighs clamped down onto him. The sweet taste of you earned an honest groan from him, sending vibrations to the sweet sensitive bud he was nipping at. He looked up at you, tongue slowly running up your entire slit and you swore you wore going to cum right then and there.

But he had other plans.

"As much as I'd like to make you cum all over my face," he pressed a soft kiss to your thigh, "I feel like we've been keeping ourselves waiting for long enough." He sat up, hands on his belt. "Unless you don't want to--"

"No," you interrupted, propping yourself up on your elbows, "I mean... Yes. Please." You chuckled, bringing a hand up to rest on your cheek, feeling just how hot your face felt. "I feel like I'm going to explode if we keep this tension up any longer."

"Agreed." He said, and unbuckled his belt, working on taking off his pants while you reached for a condom from your nightstand. You reached it out to him, and upon taking it, he gently took your hand and kissed the back of it. You giggled, catching your bottom lip under your teeth as you watched him roll the condom on.

"Turn around for me," He said, giving your thigh an encouraging tap. You obliged, getting on your hands and knees, dipping your upper body down into the mattress so your eyes was sticking up for him. "Christ..." He ran a hand over your right cheek, before coming down with a smack hard enough to leave a red imprint.

"F-Fuck!" You gripped the sheets beneath you, and he chuckled behind you.

"I know you like that." He lined himself up, rubbing his tip over your cunt to lube himself up. "You told me once... 'as a joke'."

All those "jokes" and teasing finally accumulated to end up here, beneath Chad, ass up and face down.

He groaned your name as he entered you, almost painfully slowly so, bodies having to adjust to each other for a moment as he stilled. "Shit, baby..." He gripped your hips, squeezing when you clenched around him. "So fuckin' tight for me... Just the way I imagined..."

"So... Full..." You moaned out, the sheer stretch he gave your cunt sending waves of tingling pleasure through you.

He grinned. "Not even fully inside yet sweetie."

You turned your head, giving him a daring smile before pushing your hips back until your ass was fully backed up into him, taking all of his length inside of you. The two of you took another moment to adjust, before he slowly started moving his hips back and forth.

His thrusts were slow at first, rhythmical, but that didn't last long, as you kept asking, almost begging him, to go faster.

"C-Chad, please... More, faster, fuck..." Your thighs trembled when he leaned over, his cock angled to rub against the spot that made your vision go blurry. He started grinding against you, quick, shallow thrusts as he put one hand on your shoulder, the other remaining on your hip.

The sounds of skin slapping skin, the bed squeaking and the delicious groans and whimpers from the both of you filled the room. The distinguishable scent of sex accompanied it, the atmosphere growing hotter by the second.

He removed the hand on your shoulder, looping it around your waist and reaching down to play with your clit, middle finger rubbing circles over the needy bud.

"Fuck, baby, if you keep doing that, I'm gonna--"

He cut you off by kissing you, tongue slipping past your lips and stifling your obscene moans. He pulls back, a pussy drunk smile adorning his pretty face. "Gonna cum? Yeah, me too sweetie, me too... Fuck, this pussy is too damn good..." He started kissing at your shoulder. "Shit, I'm close baby, so close--"

"Me too, me too, oh my god don't stop, don't stop!" Your hands roughly gripped the sheets below you, crying out his name as you clenched down onto him, juices dripping down your thighs as your orgasm crashed through your body like a tidal wave.

The feeling of your walls clamping down on him sent him over the edge, thrusting into you one last time before filling the condom with his hot cum, grunting your name into the skin of your shoulder.

He collapsed onto you for a moment, cock settled nicely inside you. He wished he could stay like that forever, just snug inside you like that.

He moved his strong arms around your waist and turned the two of you on your sides, now spooning.

"Kinda... Don't wanna pull out..." He said, still panting a little.

"Don't..." You whined sleepily. "Let's just... Stay like this for a bit."

"Yeah..." He pressed a gentle kiss to the crook of your neck. "I'd like that."

tag list <3

@777iii

[cobaltperun]

Lost (8) - Collect Call

Tara Carpenter x female Reader

Summary: To anyone on the outside, and to Tara’s friends, you were Tara’s fierce protector, the MMA fighter who’d take anyone on for Tara. The Guard Dog, as Amber called you. You had no idea you’d have to protect her from people who claimed they loved her. It didn’t matter. As long as you and Tara had one another there was nothing you wouldn’t be able to survive.

Story warnings: Scream violence, family issues, trauma, angst, certain sensitive topics

Word count: 9.1k

Story masterlist / First part / Previous part / Next part

-Wishing you could keep me closer, I'm a lazy dancer when you move, I move with you-

Woodsboro was a small place, frankly, you were amazed it even had a proper gym, even if it wasn’t as well-equipped as you would prefer. Still, it had a punching bag, plenty of space to do push-ups, you could run, do pull-ups, lift wights, the basics were there, and you easily spent four to five hours in it a day, sometimes more. In fact, you just completed a two-hour work-out and were in the process of taking your gloves off.

Life moves on, no matter how hard you wish to stop it at times, to just remain in the current moment. Right now, however, you eagerly accepted the passage of time, after all, the sooner what Amber and Richie did became left in the past, the better, especially for Tara.

It's been almost three weeks since Tara was first attacked and for the most part, everything was returning back to normal. The wounds healed, well, aside from Tara's broken leg, that would take some time, but the scars remained, with two being more prominent than others, the stab through Tara's left hand and the slash that went horizontally just beneath the right side of your jawline. Other stabs and gunshots left their own scars, but those were easy to cover with clothes. Thus, you caught Tara's regretful gaze checking your scar out. Not that you blamed her, you glanced at her own scar every now and then. You still caught yourself wondering if there was anything you could have done to keep her safe, to prevent the first attack. The answer was always a definitive ‘no’ but you still wondered.

The Babadook theme rang almost immediately after you put your gloves in your bag and wiped the sweat off your face and hands with your towel, and you eagerly answered. "Hey, Snuggle Bear," you said teasingly before taking a sip from your water bottle. Damn, you missed having these phone calls with Tara while she was with Amber, and from the looks of it she had every intention to make up for the lost calls. Even with how much time the two of you spent together she still called you at least three times a day, often more.

"As if you're not as much of a snuggle bear as I am," she teased back, though there was a bit of nervousness in her tone. You’d leave that for when you met up.

With a broad smile on your face you faked sighing in defeat. "You caught me, only with you though," there was a small pause once you said that, but the silence felt comfortable.

"Exactly the way it should be," Tara set the boundaries, your boundaries to be precise. Possessive little snuggle bear. Granted, considering what those cuddles and snuggles included you couldn't say you blamed her for being like that. "Anyway, don't forget to pick me up in an hour," you stopped for a moment. Tara didn't have a check-up today. Hell, her next check up wasn’t until next week.

"Huh?" you were trying to think of the reason for picking her up. You didn't make any plans. Not that you minded abruptly spending time with Tara, but you were still a bit confused.

"Y/N," Tara groaned your name and you could hear her head hitting the pillow. "Your results are in. For your heart. Remember?" oh, that was today, well, at least that explained why she sounded a bit nervous before. She was anxious about the results. Damn, you, on the other hand, managed to forget all that. Your heart felt fine, so you kinda stopped being worried.

"Right, I'll come pick you up in an hour," you reassured her and began packing your stuff as you exchanged goodbyes with Tara.

Almost an hour later you parked in front of Tara's house and knocked several times. Most of the times since the attack you’d just unlock the doors yourself and go in, loudly announcing your presence even though Tara expected you. But most of the times Tara was alone, while this time her mother was home, and you did not want to deal with her mother making a scene for whatever reason. You could hear shuffling inside the house, and then there was some stumbling until the doors finally opened and a very drunk Christina Carpenter leaned against the doors, a bottle of whatever alcohol she was currently drinking in hand.

"Y-" she hiccuped and you could smell the alcohol even if you were over a dozen of feet away from her, let alone right in front of her. "Y/N, how you doing?" well, at least she could form some kind of sentence, even if her words were slurred.

"Good. Is Tara upstairs," you sure hoped she was because you didn't trust the drunk in front of you to help her down the stairs and Sam was out at the moment, probably covering someone's shift to earn enough to get by.

"Tara?" you felt a vein popping on your forehead. "She's not with you?" your blood would have run cold at that if anyone else said it.

"Please let me in," you did your best to be as gentle and polite as you possibly could. You knew the consequences of confronting Christina well enough. The last time you did it took a month and a rather expensive bottle of whiskey to let you back into her house.

"Hmm? Sure, suuuree," she stumbled to the side, and you quickly went up the stairs before she could try to continue the conversation.

You reached Tara's room and knocked.

"Come in," you heard Tara's voice from the other side of the doors. She sounded frustrated.

"Hey, you okay?" you came in and saw the issue. She was struggling with her jeans.

Tara laughed uneasily and just gave up, falling back on her bed and spreading her arms in defeat. "Shit, am I late?" she asked, a bit out of breath.

You offered her a smile and knelt in front of her to help her. You began pulling the jeans over her cast as she sat up, her breath hitching as you pulled her jeans up to the middle of her thighs. You stood up and put your arms around her waist so you could lift Tara up. That way she could pull her jeans up all the way and finish getting dressed. You smiled slightly when you felt her leaning her forehead on your shoulder, still embarrassed by how often she had to rely on you or Sam for even the simplest tasks. You didn’t think anyone could get as red as she did the first time you helped her take a shower. Not that you were unaffected, you just managed to separate doing something out of need and out of want, and that was a need, not a want for Tara. "Nope, I got here early," you reassured her, leaning to the side to kiss the top of her head, you always knew Tara was touchy, and that she craved physical touch and affection, but it only intensified after the attack, and what used to be hugs and occasional cuddles turned into still friendly kisses, sleeping with you almost every night and a lot of snuggling. "Ready now?"

Tara nodded as she pulled away, she picked up her handbag and put her arm around your neck as you lifted her up. "Think we can avoid mom?" she asked as you stepped outside her room.

"She's probably still at the doors, so unlikely," you sighed. It wasn't the first time Tara was uncomfortable about her mom seeing the two of you together, but there was something different about the way she worriedly looked away from you. "Did she say something?"

"Just another fight with Sam, well, another Sam just taking it and mom screaming at her," Tara explained and took a deep breath. "Sorry, you're worried about your results and I'm complaining about my family," she apologized making you nudge her lightly with your head.

"Hey, none of that, or do I need to remind you I forgot about the results? Besides, we support each other, right?" you reminded her as you went down the stairs.

Tara looked away. "It feels one-sided lately," she whispered so quietly you nearly didn't hear it. You were certain she didn't intend for you to hear it, so you just pulled her a tiny bit closer. You'd eventually have to talk about all the feelings that remained unresolved, but it didn't feel like today was the right day.

Luckily Christina wasn’t in the hall, you guess she went somewhere else to drink, and Tara seemed to relax a bit due to that, but she was still tense, even as you sat her down on the passenger seat.

As you drove to the hospital your mind raced in the other direction. You wouldn't say Tara has been difficult ever since what happened, hell, given what she went through, you thought she was handling things better than most people would. However, there were definitely more difficult moments, especially after she learned she would never have full use of her left hand again. She struggled to keep a firm grip on anything smaller than a cup or heavier than half a pound, not to mention reduced mobility and occasional cramps.

Mood swings, while understandable, were abrupt and immediately noticeable, which, you guessed, was to be expected. Something would trigger Tara, and it would be as if a switch got flipped. All Sam and you could do was remain patient with her. Neither of you could say you knew exactly what Tara was thinking, she refused to talk, but there was a pattern you recognized.

Christina screaming at Sam? Mood swing.

Sam being gone for too long? Mood swing.

Anyone mentioning Amber? Being reminded of Amber? Mood swing and a half.

Tara being unable to do something for herself due to her leg? The worst mood swing of them all.

Combination of any of those? Or all of them? Not fun. Currently, you were dealing with a combination of the first and fourth, perhaps the second as well, depending on when Tara last saw Sam.

Sam also told you that being away from you, even if it wasn’t for that long, caused just as big, if not even bigger mood swings, during which it wouldn’t take long to irritate Tara into an angry outburst. You, personally, didn’t deal with angry outbursts, Tara would get annoyed, or alternatively possessive and/or jealous, but you wouldn’t describe it as angry outbursts.

You stopped at the red light, a few more minutes and you'd reach the hospital.

"Y/N," the softness of her voice calmed you down, it let you know she was gradually getting less irritated.

"Yeah?" you allowed yourself a quick look at her, before turning your attention back to the road.

"I've been difficult lately, I'm sorry," that caught you off guard for a moment.

"I'd rather have you expressing everything you're feeling than the opposite. Both Sam and I will be here, no matter what, so be difficult if it helps," the lights switched to green and you drove for a bit before parking the car in the first open parking spot, still a bit away from the hospital. You turned in your seat, looking at Tara with utmost seriousness. "But, if at some point it stops helping, talk to us about that too. Just don't try to deal with it alone, rely on us."

What else could you tell her? This soon after everything happened? You were sure Sam told her something similar at least once a day, you told her as often as you could. There was no way to tell if it was reaching Tara or not. A shaky breath fell from her lips and Tara turned away from you and looked at the cars passing by your own. "We'll be late," she whispered, so you drove once again, choosing not to push or force the conversation further than she was ready to accept it.

By the time you were inside the hospital, with you sitting across from the doctor and Tara standing on her crutches next to you, you could only see the worry in her eyes. The irritation, the frustrations, it all vanished now that you were waiting to hear the results. You could see her anxiety going through the roof and wrapped your left arm around her waist, pulling her closer to you to help her clam down.

The doctor came in and you felt Tara firmly grabbing your shoulder. "Good news, miss L/N," you noticed Tara visibly relaxing and her grip on your shoulder getting weaker. "The heart attack was due to extreme circumstances. According to the tests your heart is a textbook example of healthy. You've got a long MMA career ahead of you with these results," oof, that one wasn't going to age well. You couldn't help but chuckle at that. If only the good doctor in front of you knew...

Tara, overwhelmed with relief and happiness flung her arms around you, causing you to quickly get up so she wouldn't hurt her leg. "Oh, thank goodness," she trembled in your arms as she, over the top happy as she currently was kissed your cheek several times. There was no way the corners of your lips didn’t touch a few times with how she was kissing you and you had to resist the urge to kiss her properly. It was getting more difficult though. Every time she looked you in the eyes a bit longer than she used to, every time she pressed up against you more than it was necessary, every time her lips lingered on your cheek, you had to control yourself and hold the need to kiss her back.

You worried it was too early for her to jump into another relationship, especially given what happened with Amber. "Easy, Tara," you laughed and offered a quick apology to the doctor.

"It's all good," he raised his hands. "I get it. Get out though, other patients are waiting," he chuckled and handed you Tara's crutches that had fallen to the floor.

Still, with Tara this happy, and with a movie night scheduled tonight at the twins' place, you figured nothing could cause another mood swing.

Famous last words, as some would say.

~X~

When you brought Tara back to her house and left her in her room once again, she caught herself glancing at the calendar on her phone. It's been three months now. With some trouble, she went over to the desk in her room and pulled out a box. She went back to her bed and got comfortable before opening it. The necklace inside was her favorite piece of jewelry. Simple at first glance with its round pendant, but the details were intricate and required a closer look to be seen. She traced the round patterns and the small sapphire in the middle with her fingertips, smiling as she remembered what you did back then.

~X~

It was in April 2020, it was a Saturday and you, quite easily, convinced Tara to come with you to another town, one, as you said, better equipped to handle what you wanted to do. You said you needed her help, and it wasn't until you were sitting in a confectionery store that you told her what you needed to do.

"So, there's a girl," she immediately froze when you opened with that. "I really care about her, and her birthday is coming up, and I wanted to get her something, I guess, a bit more, uh something. I thought about getting her a necklace, but I don't know anything about all that stuff."

Tara found it difficult to swallow the piece of cake she mistakenly put in her mouth before you spoke up. She still smiled, even if it didn't reach her eyes. "So, you thought I could help you?" she despised how her voice nearly gave her away when she started talking.

You just rubbed the back of your head sheepishly. The grin on your face told her everything. "I'd appreciate it."

"Do you, uh, do you really care about her?" she couldn't bring herself to ask if you were in love. The way your eyes brightened was enough of an answer without verbal confirmation.

"I do," not a moment of hesitation. Tara felt jealousy consuming her. She felt regret at not saying anything to you. She wanted to yell at you that you weren't being fair, but how could she do that when you looked so happy just thinking about that girl.

How amazing did that girl have to be to get that reaction out of you? She tried to keep her face at least neutral, even as her emotions spiraled out of control, self-doubt consuming her. She dared to hope that maybe, at some point, you might start seeing her as more than just a friend, but now she doubted that would ever happen. It would be too good to be true after all.

"Let's go then," neither one of you was done with the cakes, but she wanted, no, needed to get this over with. She'd help to the best of her abilities, but she wanted to be quick about it.

You blinked a few times, but didn’t say anything. You must have noticed her mood dropping though, because you placed an arm around her shoulders for a brief moment and smiled at her. She returned the smile, as genuinely as she could, but her heart still sank at the thought of you loving someone else.

You got to the store, and she looked around, wondering if she could really do it. "What did you want me to do, exactly?" she asked.

"Uh, look around and find the one that catches your eye the most? Let's say as if you were choosing something for yourself?" you looked around, completely out of place. Tara guessed you really never had the time to figure something like this out, with all the training and fighting, and now a job as a cook, you simply didn't have time.

So, going as far as to ask for Tara's help, not to mention taking an entire day off from everything, really made her envious of that mysterious girl of yours. How far were you going to go for that girl if you were taking a day off for a gift? What if she likes you back and you start dating? Who was she kidding with that last thought? That girl would have to be crazy not to like you back. It wasn't just jealousy over that, it went further, to how it would affect your friendship when your already limited free time got occupied by another girl.

So, to keep her mind off those possibilities Tara turned to her task. "What's your budget?" she asked absentmindedly.

"I didn't really consider it. Don't look at the price," were you being serious now?

"Y/N, what are you doing?" Tara asked in a hushed whisper, she knew how careful you were with money, yet here you were, acting like you’d spend a small fortune if needed.

"Buying a gift?" you didn't seem affected by the prices in the store. Well, if you weren't going to care, then Tara would do it for you.

"Welcome, is there anything I can help you with?" a woman interrupted the two of you and Tara gave her a tight-lipped smile.

“Please do, we’re looking for a gift,” you told her and seeing how certain you were of that the woman didn't seem to mind Tara’s not so happy smile as she began showing the two of you different pieces of jewelry.

Tara considered something cheaper than a necklace, like a ring… actually, no, no ring! Too much! But something like earrings or a bracelet. Despite those intentions her eyes kept going back to one necklace in particular. Simple, golden, necklace with a beautiful circular design on the pendant and a tiny sapphire in the middle of it. You seemed to catch that, and Tara had long since noticed you weren't paying attention to the jewelry as much as her reactions to them.

"Could you maybe try it? You know, to see if it's comfortable?" you sheepishly asked and Tara sighed, that ugly jealousy increasing tenfold. Did you really have to buy that girl one thing that genuinely caught her eye? And to make it even worse it fit her like a glove.

"Thanks," you looked almost mesmerized at the sight of the necklace around her neck.

"Mhm. Lucky girl," she swallowed down those feelings as your eyes met.

"I'm the lucky one," the tiniest bit of raspiness in your voice as you whispered those words sent a shiver down her spine.

With the necklace paid for the two of you went back to Woodsboro. As payback she made you watch The Babadook and Hereditary back to back. You never mentioned the girl again. She asked what her reaction was, you just shrugged. She asked to meet her, you gave vague excuses not to. No matter what she asked, or how she approached the conversation you remained tightlipped about it. You still had that look of absolute adoration in your eyes when you talked about her and Tara just couldn't take it, so she stopped asking.

Eventually, by the middle of November, she couldn't keep it in anymore. Amber really, really disliked you, probably even hated you a bit, and telling her about what happened would only make it worse. Mindy would tease her, so she couldn't go to Mindy either. And while she loved Chad and Wes, she did not want to discuss the jealousy that was eating her up from inside with them. You were obviously not an option, so, she was really left with the worst possible option.

"I don't know what to do, mom," she lamented when she told her mother the story. She was fairly certain half of what she said was already forgotten by the half-drunk woman.

"That's bad," her mom said, looking straight through Tara with her hazy eyes. "Girl's parents are rich, when she sobers up from her rebellious phase, she'll go back to them and all that money will go to her," Tara felt like vomiting as her mother hiccupped and gulped down another glass of wine. "It's not like they have other kids."

Your parents were rich. There was no denying that, but to think that was why her mother was so supportive of her friendship with you. Tara felt sick. She barely kept her breathing under control and, as subtly as she could, used her inhaler.

"You clung too hard Tara, and she got sick of it. Keep doing that and people will abandon you again," with tears in her eyes Tara ran outside, with her mother not even calling after her. She was clutching her inhaler and phone to her chest as tears streamed down her face. It wasn't the first time her mom had said something like that, that she clung too hard and that it was the reason Sam and her dad left her.

She couldn't call you. She couldn't be that clingy. Instead, she ran until her lungs burned, which, admittedly, wasn't too far. Tara gasped for air, trying to calm down and avoid an asthma attack. This wasn't the time or the place, but the cold air made everything more difficult. Almost out of the blue, she began shivering, only now realizing she wasn't exactly dressed for the cold, she was in her pajama shorts and T-shirt and only had slippers on her feet, not to mention she was disoriented, cold, and out of breath.

"Tara, sweetie?" a voice she barely recognized called her name and she abruptly raised her head to see none other than the lady that owned the restaurant you worked in. A middle-aged woman with hair seemingly permanently in a bun and a kind face that made working with customers seem easy. Tara suddenly found it really difficult to recall her or her husband's name, but the couple was amazing from what you told her, and you loved working for them. And they were always kind to her as well, letting her into the kitchen to spend time with you as long as she was careful.

"What are you doing out at this hour and dressed like that?" the woman quickly wrapped Tara in her coat. "Dear Lord, you're freezing," Tara looked down, ashamed of being caught in this state. "Let's go inside," only then did Tara realize she somehow stumbled to the restaurant you worked in. And with that close to your apartment as well.

"N-No, I'm fine," she tried to refuse, her mother's words echoing in her mind.

"Y/N will go crazy if I leave you like this, come on so I don't have to get scolded by my own employee," she guessed she couldn't argue with that. She knew you, if she refused and left, and the woman told you about it, you’d start looking for Tara and then Tara would feel even worse.

The lady took her through the front doors, through the small restaurant with nice wooden tables and into the kitchen where Tara saw you wrapping up the cleaning. The kitchen was still warm and she gave the coat back to your boss. The woman was reluctant to take it, but seeing the look in Tara's eyes as she watched your back made your boss take the coat back.

"Y/N," her voice was barely louder than a whisper, yet somehow you heard her and whipped around almost as if you couldn't believe your own ears.

"Tara?!" your jaw dropped as you saw her. Immediately you dropped what you were doing and pulled her as close to you as possible. Tara didn't know if it was instinct or habit, but whichever it was it took over and she clung to you as if her life depended on it, gripping the back of your uniform and taking all of you in, the warmth of your body, your scent mixed with the smell of the kitchen and all the food you made tonight, the feel of your muscles underneath your clothes, she took it all in. "Shit, you're freezing! And you were crying? What happened?" you turned to your boss, looking for answers.

“I don’t know, I just saw her outside,” your boss raised her hands while Tara kept shivering in your arms.

“I owe you one,” you turned your attention back to Tara and picked her up by her waist. The familiar feeling of being in the air, her body leaning against yours and your arms holding her up was the comfort she desperately needed at the moment. You went over to your hoodie hanging in the back and gave it to Tara the moment you lowered her back down.

“Sorry, Y/N,” Tara whispered and let go of you just enough to put the hoodie on.

“Hey, it’s okay,” your smile warmed her up as you brushed the tears from her cheeks and only then took your white uniform off, leaving you in a plain red T-shirt. The moment that was done Tara went right back to hugging you. Just for a bit longer, she told herself, just until the words her mother spoke became less loud. Just until she was certain you didn't mind. Then she let you go, only to feel you pulling her into your side and leading her outside through the back doors.

"Thanks! I'll make up for this tomorrow!" she heard you hollering as you took her straight to your apartment.

By the time the two of you were in your apartment, Tara was calm, for the most part. You set your priorities straight, cranking the heating up to the max and getting Tara to lie down in your bed to warm up quicker. You even tucked her in, wrapping her in your blankets. Only then did you send a message to her mother. Tara frowned at that. As if her mother cared. And it wasn’t that you thought her mother cared, you just didn’t want to take any chances that her mother would end up calling the police and causing issues.

"What happened?" you finally sat down on the sofa next to the bed and Tara wasn't sure what to tell you. She didn’t know how to even approach the topic, how to tell you what she was feeling and what caused her to run from home like that.

"Am I too clingy? Does it bother you?" she eventually blurted out before she could change her mind.

Your eyes widened at that. "It could never bother me, Tara," you assured her, your eyes carefully studying her. "Where did you get that idea?"

Tara sat up in your bed, now feeling warm, for more than one reason. "Mom said I clung too hard, and you got sick of it," Tara just admitted it, she wouldn't tell you what made her mother say that, but she figured she should tell you what made her run from her house like that. "Then she said people will keep abandoning me and I got emotional, so I ran. I didn't even realize where I was."

You clenched your fists and Tara could see barely contained anger in your eyes. "Of course, it was your damn mother," you growled, leaning back and glaring at the ceiling. “Why don’t you just come and live with me once you turn eighteen?”

It wasn’t the first time you asked that question and Tara wanted that, she wanted that so damn much, but she knew you were saving money for the future, and that you would have to get a bigger apartment if she started living with you. Even if you started sleeping together, which, given you were just friends, might become a bit weird over time, she wondered how the rest of living together would work. And then there were your fights… Frankly, Tara didn’t know if she had the strength to see your bruises after fights, even if everything else was fine.

“I… I don’t think it would work,” she gave you that same answer and at first you assured her you’d make it work, and she’d just tell you she was fine in her house.

“Tara,” you sighed, and she could see the complaint at the tip of your tongue.

"Especially since you will have less time for me," Tara finally opened up about what had been bothering her since April.

"What?" you suddenly sounded confused, the question of Tara moving in forgotten for the time being.

"The girl? The one you bought that necklace for. You'll have less time when you get together with her," she explained, not sure why you didn't get that. You were usually more than aware of how much time you could spare on what. Even if you told her your friendship wouldn't suffer because of your love life, she honestly couldn't believe that. Tara was the one you spent most of your free time with, and that would have to be shared once someone else comes along. And she knew she couldn’t see you hugging and kissing that girl, or any other girl, so the more serious the relationship got the less she’d see you. And she dreaded that thought, she hated how it made her feel like maybe there was some truth in what Amber was saying.

"Is that what you've been worried about?" you asked and moved to kneel on the floor next to her.

Tara just nodded, not trusting her voice right now.

You sighed and reached for the nightstand drawer. Tara's eyes widened when she saw the same box you got from that jewelry store. "There's no girl, Tara, the necklace is for you," you opened the box and looked her in the eyes, almost silently begging for permission. When she, too shocked to say or do anything, just kept looking from the necklace to your eyes you took that as enough of a permission to put it around her neck.

It still fit her like it was made for her, and she felt a shiver run down her spine when your fingers brushed against her neck. "What did you say?" her throat was dry all of a sudden.

You smiled sheepishly, pulling your hands away from her neck. "It was meant to be a gift for your eighteenth birthday, and I really don't know shit about jewelry, so the only way I could find something good would be to, you know, trick you into choosing your own gift like eight months in advance," at least you looked embarrassed.

Tara still couldn't believe what was happening, too speechless to even react. So, you took that as a sign to keep talking.

"I'd rather ruin the surprise than let you worry about something like this. For what it's worth, I didn't think you'd think there could ever be a girl that could take your place. Hell, I was scared you'd see right through me," you chuckled a bit and took her hand. "Please say something," you pleaded, and she pulled you into a hug.

"You're crazy, you know? What were you thinking spending all that money on me, hmm?" she felt tears running down her cheeks. You, damn, dumbass she was so hopelessly in love with.

"Yeah, you kinda make it hard to think clearly," you teased, and she jokingly gave you a light smack on the back.

"I love it," she relented, knowing better than to argue with you about this. "Thanks, Y/N," she muttered into your neck wishing she had the courage to just move up and kiss you.

~X~

Tara smiled as she remembered all that. She spent the night, sleeping right next to you, not quite as close as she did over the past few weeks, but back then it didn't matter. It wasn't the first time the two of you slept like that, but it didn't happen that often, especially in your bed. So, back then she cherished the nights that would end like that. A plan formed in her head, she hadn't worn your necklace over the past three months, due to Amber's jealousy, or well, what she thought was jealousy. So, it was about time to correct that.

~X~

When you arrived at Chad and Mindy’s house, you found Sam on the porch, smoking a cigarette.

"Before you ask, I'm trying to quit," Sam said as you reached her and leaned back against the fence. You just raised your hands, understanding it wasn't the easiest task. As long as she didn't smoke anywhere near Tara you honestly didn't mind.

"You know, I don't think I'll ever miss Woodsboro, but you can't deny the sky is beautiful at night," you pointed out as you looked up over your shoulder.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Sam nodding. "Can I ask you something about you and Tara?"

You met her eyes, slightly confused as to why she'd ask you instead of Tara. "Sure."

"Do you know? How she feels?" it was a question that could make or break your relationship with Sam.

"That she loves me? Yeah, I've known since she was sixteen," you admitted. "Her eyes are just so expressive, you know? I can see the way she looks at me. I know the way she clings to me isn't exactly friendly either," the looks, the lingering touches, the apparent need Tara had to just stay as close to you as she physically could ever since she was attacked… You noticed it all. Truth be told, you and Tara had always been touchy with each other. Whether you were carrying her on your back when you were kids, or she just randomly hugged you and wouldn’t let go until she was content throughout your entire friendship, or falling asleep next to each other and eventually watching a movie while cuddling, sure, you guessed some friends did that, but all things considered you couldn’t deny that Tara was in love with you, or that you were in love with her.

Sam clenched her fist. "And you?"

You looked at her as if she suddenly grew another head. "Seriously? That's a question? I love her, Sam."

Sam relaxed at that, at least a bit. "What's stopping you then?"

You looked away from her and back to the night sky. "It was never the right moment. I figured it out a bit before I turned eighteen, but I was about to leave my parents. Then I had to find the balance between MMA, work, and everything else I now needed to handle on my own. I just wouldn't be able to be what she needed in a relationship," not to mention Tara was sixteen at the time, well, sixteen and a half, but you didn’t want to rush her into a relationship until she was ready. Until she knew what she wanted and needed in a partner, you wanted it to work, and it felt like waiting a few years was the best way to make sure it would work, and not fall apart because you were still too young to know what you wanted.

The circumstances were much different now, though. Age and maturity kinda weren’t a factor anymore, not after what the two of you, and especially Tara, went through.

Sam nodded, apparently understanding your reasoning. "And now she went through a traumatic experience, and you want to give her time to heal?" Sam was spot on. Now you were sure you and Tara would work, but between what happened, and the way Tara was handling it, you didn't think it was the right time to get together. That being said, you doubted you had it in you to resist if, say, a kiss was about to happen.

"If something happened I think I couldn't fight it, but I'm not going to pursue anything right now," you admitted and the two of you fell into a comfortable silence for a couple of minutes.

"Oh, yeah, Tara is waiting for you in the guest room. Apparently, she has something to ask you," Sam's statement puzzled you. You and Tara already spent plenty of time together today. Couldn't she ask before?

"Thanks, Sam," you got inside and found Chad and Mindy in the living room trying to decide which movie to watch. "Hey," Tara's question could wait a minute or two. You approached the twins and gave them a quick hug. "How are you?"

"Doing better," Mindy shrugged, grinning a bit, even though you could see her subconsciously reaching for her chest where Amber stabbed her, it was a miracle she survived. It was a miracle either of the two of them survived, and you could see that night haunting them in the way their eyes lost that childlike innocence they had before this all happened. Other than Tara, the rest of your friends had normal childhoods, parents that were normal, that cared for them, they were never abandoned, and now, completely out of nowhere, a close friend tried to kill them and killed Wes and Liv. They would never be as trusting as they were, and you couldn’t blame them. "You know how it goes, we're all dealing with it one way or another," she said, for once choosing not to be snarky or sarcastic.

You nodded. Hoping the answer was honest because, as much as it hurt to admit, you didn't have it in you to fully be there for anyone else.

"Chad?" he was in a rather special situation, seeing as Liv was his girlfriend. You heard from Tara Liv's parents didn't take it well when he tried to talk to them. He dragged her into that mess, they said. It wasn’t fair, but in their grief and anger and no one left to pay and suffer for their daughter’s death, the only target left was Chad. There was a chance Tara would have been the target of their rage as well, seeing as she did introduce Liv to the rest of the group, but they just never had the chance to take their anger out on Tara.

"Hanging in there. Going back to practice has been helping to get my mind off of things," the only one who visibly took all of this worse than Chad was Tara. For a moment you wondered if Tara would be able to handle it better if she wasn't stuck in one place pretty much all day.

You patted Chad's shoulder. "If you ever want to spar, or train together, you have my number," and you most definitely would train with Chad if he asked.

"I'll keep it in mind Champ," he smiled slightly. "Tara's waiting for you," he gestured upstairs, and you nodded, leaving the two to find Tara.

“Second door to the right!” Mindy added as you began climbing up the stairs.

“Thanks!” it was a testament to how rarely you visited their place. If the times you came to pick Tara up were excluded, you were fairly sure you could count all the times you spent time in this house on your hands. In all the years you’ve known the twins. As kids you just used to spend time in the park, or at the school playground, afterwards Tara’s house became the usual place to hang out, and by the time you turned eighteen most of the time it was just you and Tara anyway.

When you found Tara, she was sitting on the bed, with a box in her hands. It looked like a jewelry box? "Hey, what's up?"

Tara blushed slightly. "Uh, could you open this box?" she offered it to you.

You tilted your head in confusion but still took the box. You remained on your feet, in front of Tara, not entirely sure if you'd need to move right away. Things became even more confusing when you opened the box. You recognized the necklace immediately and you looked at Tara, a bit lost at the moment.

"Could you put it on me?" Tara asked, clearing your confusion.

Your heart began beating a bit faster. "Of course," you spoke softly and leaned forward to put the necklace around her neck. You tried not to notice how her lower lip trembled, or how it felt like your fingertips touched fire. It wasn’t like this when you first put it around her neck, and your heart threatened to leap out of your chest when you looked at the necklace around her neck. It felt good to see it there once again after more or less three months now.

"I took it off exactly three months ago. It felt fitting to put it back on today, especially if you put it on me," her eyes held a bit of uncertainty as she placed her hands around your neck.

With anyone else, they'd have to work for it, but with Tara, you just moved, letting her pull your head down. She kissed your cheek and then moved her lips closer to your ear. "You're the only one whose mark I'll ever wear," your eyes widened, brain short-circuited, body moving on its own as you pulled her closer, heart hammering in your chest as she looked you in the eyes. Was she leaning in or was that you?

"Tara, Y/N, we're ready to start the movie!" Mindy's voice startled both of you and you awkwardly separated from each other the moment Mindy came in. The fuck? Didn't the three of them send you up here? And now they interrupted you? "Come on," she ushered you and then probably connected the dots. "Hey, wait a second, did you two just-" she had the most infuriating shit-eating grin on her face.

"No!" both of you denied even if you could feel the tingling sensation on your lips. It wasn't even an almost kiss, your lips definitely touched for a moment, and judging by Tara absentmindedly touching her lips she felt it too,

"Sure, you didn't," Mindy rolled her eyes. "Make out later, we got a movie to watch."

"We weren't-" Tara began and you could see a very prominent blush on her face. "Why am I even bothering?" she gave up prompting you to chuckle.

"Let's just go and watch the movie," you gave up and picked Tara up. The warning you silently sent Mindy luckily kept her from saying anything, she still had an infuriatingly teasing smirk on her face and it only made Tara hide her face in the crook of your neck.

"T, we all know you're not hiding because you're embarrassed," Mindy just couldn't help herself.

"Dude, let me have this," Tara groaned, making Mindy laugh as she led the two of you to the living room.

Your phone rang just as you and Tara settled in, and you glanced down to see it was your coach. Sighing, you pulled away from Tara and smiled apologetically at her pouting face. "Sorry, I have to take this, don't pause the movie," you stepped outside the house and answered. "How did it go?" you immediately asked, you kinda knew the answer already, you were already perfectly fine with it, you just wanted to hear it.

"You're out Y/N, they agreed to let you have two more fights and then you'll have to retire," you couldn't remember ever hearing him so devastated. You didn't get it, honestly, this was much better than you expected. You thought it would be instant retirement.

"Got it. Well, let's just make those last two fights memorable," you said, you didn't try, he tried, and there was nothing else to do but accept the complementary paycheck and retire without making a fuss.

"Why did you have to go after those two?" he asked again even if you answered that same question when he told you the situation you were in.

"I told you. They hurt the one I love," you'd do it again, and again, and it didn't matter what the cost would be.

"Y/N, come on! The movie's really good!" you heard Chad hollering from the living room.

"Sorry, I have to go, we'll talk tomorrow, okay?" even if you were fine with it, you did wish there was another way, but there wasn't so, that's how it was.

"Yeah, sure. We'll talk," he hung up, sounding even more dejected, before you had the chance to do it and you went back inside. You felt Tara's eyes following your every move, even when Mindy teasingly told her the TV was in the opposite direction. Tara flipped her off, but didn't look away and as you sat back down you saw concern in her eyes.

You smiled, leaning in, and kissing the top of her head before pulling her closer to you. "It's nothing urgent, I'll tell you tonight," she'd sleep at your place tonight. It was a bit of an unspoken deal. If Sam couldn't sleep at Tara's place, then Tara would sleep at your apartment. And since Sam narrowly avoided another fight with her and Tara's mother, they both decided it would be for the best if Sam didn't sleep there for a night or two. Just to let things cool down a bit.

Tara looked you in the eyes with an intensity that made you wonder if she would settle for your answer. Luckily, she nodded and went back to watching the movie.

Three and a half hours later you couldn't avoid telling Tara about what happened anymore. You wanted to delay it a bit longer, let her rest, and not worry her about how you were taking the news because you knew she'd be worrying regardless of what you told her. So, you took your sweet time to get ready for bed, hoping she might fall asleep.

She didn't. Of course, she didn't.

"Y/N," there was a playful warning in her tone, one that told you Tara saw right through you.

"Sorry, sorry," you rubbed the back of your head nervously as you lay down next to her. Tara was on your left side, much like she was in the hospital. And just like in the hospital, you were closer to the doors. Ghostface was gone, but Tara did at one point sleepily mutter to you that she felt safer when she was between you and the wall, safe from both sides.

"So, what was the phone call about?" Tara demanded as she got comfortable next to you, and you pulled the covers over the two of you.

"I'm retiring from MMA," you just dropped it on her and watched as her jaw dropped, as her entire face morphed into pure shock.

"What? Why?" she questioned the moment her brain processed the information you just gave her.

"Apparently, a case can be made that I went looking for a fight, for both times I fought Amber and Richie, especially the one at Amber's house. So, while a lot of people accept the self-defense and/or keeping my loved ones safe as a valid excuse, at least just as many people are saying I could have stayed out of it and/or that I took it too far," you explained the gist of the situation. It was a perfect storm, really. You, a young, new fighter, came along, and defeated a bunch of fan favorites, only to then get caught up in a conflict that left more than half a dozen people dead and just as many heavily injured.

"That makes no sense. What were you supposed to do, let them kill you?" Tara's voice shook with barely restrained fury.

"No one is saying that, but plenty of people are saying I went to Amber's house intending to kill her, which, to be perfectly honest, is true," you couldn't argue against that, you really did plan on killing Amber.

Tara frowned and sat up, looking down as you kept lying there. "We went to save Sam," she argued, even if there really was no point in arguing.

"Tara," you sighed, reaching up to brush a couple of strands of her hair behind her ear. "You and I both know that's the official statement. Yes, saving Sam was important, but if Sam woke me up, or if you had told me it was Amber before we went to sleep I would have done the same thing Sam did."

"I killed Amber," Tara kept arguing, even if she did lift her hand and placed it over your own.

"Valid. I still wanted to do it. I would have done it if I had anything but the gun in my hands," you argued back, still fairly calm about everything. You knew damn well that you would have killed Amber and Richie with your bare fists if you needed.

Tara leaned over you, gripping your shoulders. "Why are you like this? Why are you taking the side of people that are against you?" she whispered, tears pooling in her eyes.

You frowned, choosing the next words carefully. "It's not about sides. It's as simple as acknowledging that I had those intentions. Even if my reason for fighting was justified, and it was, there have to be consequences. Otherwise, you might as well openly give a highly trained group of people a loophole on how to get away with fighting outside the cage, or ring, or whatever," you firmly believed what you were saying. You were fine with this outcome. This was the price to pay to keep Tara safe? Hell, you would have paid a much higher one if it was needed.

"It's not fair," Tara whispered, as she lowered her body down to your own, no longer capable of staying in the position she was in. You were honestly impressed she held out for so long. You just pulled the blanket over your bodies and hugged her. Tara sighed, gently running her fingers through your hair.

"Is the phrase we-" Tara immediately placed a finger over your lips.

"-only use when things don't go our way, I know. You keep repeating that," she huffed, annoyed.

You still kissed the tip of her finger and grinned when she blushed. "It's not so bad. I'm retiring, but I'll have two more fights and I'll get some money to retire quietly. Everyone will end up more or less happy by the end of this deal," you tried to get her to see the brighter side.

Tara, instead, just narrowed her eyes.

"Okay, that's not working. How about this? I get to go to college and work at the same time, while spending plenty of time with you, instead of sacrificing the job in favor of fighting. It's really not that big of a loss Snuggle Bear," you didn't know what else to say to her that could get her to just accept it as it is. It really shouldn't have been this difficult. Tara hated that you fought, before all of this went down, she herself tried to talk you into quitting several times, so all of this, her entire reaction, baffled you.

You understood that she knew how much you loved MMA and you guessed she would be worried about how you'd take all of this, but this was a whole different reaction from what you imagined. And you couldn't put a finger on what was the reason for this shift to save your life.

Though she struggled to do it, Tara moved away from you and tucked herself in the corner. "I wish you didn't pretend you were okay, Y/N. For once be open about your feelings," you didn't have to see her face to know she was crying.

"Tara," you tried, leaning over to wrap an arm around her waist, but she pushed against it. You took a deep breath and sat up. For once you were completely honest about being fine. But that was the point, wasn't it? Because it was for once. So many times, you pretended to be fine, keeping the fact that something was troubling you from Tara and now that she knew you did that for years there was a crack in her trust in you.

You got up from the bed and lay down on the sofa to give her as much space as your apartment allowed. It was a long, silent night, with neither of you saying a word or getting any sleep.

Story masterlist / First part / Previous part / Next part

[arabellasleopardcoat]

Lamb (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: Modern Daemon has bad blowjob etiquette. You think you can teach him a lesson.

Warnings: Smut. Rimming. That’s it. That's the fic. Nah, kidding. Cursing, trapped in an elevator, male masturbation. Casual workplace sexism.

A/N: The last two Sundays I decided to be sweet. But since my finals started, we go back to my scheduled period of being unhinged. And then I started my actual period and hated this so much. So if it sucks, sorry.

He is staring at you. Again.

You never understood the point of glass walls. If you owned the building, you would have them all replaced by real, actual walls. Or at least, you would put blinds on. But you don’t own the building.

The man that does is sitting in the office right across from yours, staring towards you. Daemon Targaryen. Board member of Targaryen’s Industries. Your father and he had been at each other’s throats since you had been a little girl. Otto Hightower and Daemon Targaryen hated each other, it was a fact of life. Him choosing the office right across from yours had been taken as nothing more than a taunt to your father.

But you knew better. Daemon was set on driving you to insanity. You scowled, and he smirked at you, closing his laptop and sliding those damn glasses off his face to look at you unashamedly. He looked starving. Like he wanted to eat you whole.

You didn’t actually know what his position was. It was hard to keep track. He had been appointed by the CEO, your godfather Viserys, to more departments than you could count. First, he had been head of marketing, but your father complained he was using too expensive models that were not on the budget. Then, he had overseen PR, which had been an absolute disaster. After that, he had been placed as the CFTO, only to be demoted a few weeks later. Then he had been… Well, you get the idea.

Daemon waves his hand, shaking you out of your contemplation. You quickly close your mouth, noticing you had your lips slightly parted, as if to speak a word that would never come out. He snickers, no doubt amused at what he perceives as a weakness.

He has done this for a month. You have to give it to him, he is a patient man. Daemon sits there every morning and just looks at you. Takes you in, as you flutter around your office, sometimes on the phone, sometimes typing away on your computer. He never gets bored, or tired of it. How could he, when he is a predator waiting to pounce?

You see, Daemon has been waiting weeks for a moment of weakness. Taunting you, looking at you, making you uncomfortable. And it’s fitting, really. That today of all days is the day you break. There is a storm raging outside, the worst winter Westeros has seen in years. Climate change it’s at fault, or so they say. You only know that you despise Daemon, and you despise thunderstorms.

His eyes. Purple and mischievous, meeting yours at every turn. You despise those. His little sideways smirk. That, too, you hate. You hate his entitled, nepo baby attitude, and you are sick of the taunts about your nephews and sister. His handsome face, and how good he looks in glasses. Annoying. You wish someone would put him in his place.

No one had actually expected you to enter corporate life. You see, as the daughter of an old money family, your father was sure you would do just as Alicent did and become the housewife of a rich man. The thing he didn’t take in consideration was that you had inherited none of your mother’s and Alicent’s grace and soft tempers, and all his cunningness.

You had gone to a good school, and had quickly risen through corporate ranks. You had a strong work ethic, but your last name had helped, too. Being the daughter of Otto Hightower had his perks, especially in university, considering you had been able to not worry about paying student debt and only focus on getting good grades. It also helped that you had a sure work once you had graduated, since Viserys Targaryen was not only your brother-in-law, but you were his goddaughter too. That last fact had made for interesting conversations after he married your older sister.

Still, you dedicated yourself to your work, trying to prove you deserved to be there as much as anyone else. It was a male dominated field, and working in the company where your father was CCO, and your sister married to the owner meant many expected you to be either looking for your own rich husband or to be a lazy nepo baby. Just like Daemon was.

The sound of thunder cast you out of your thoughts. You gave a quick glance at the window, noticing that once more, it was pouring. Not a good omen for your meeting. Thunderstorms always made you slightly uneasy.

Too wired to keep working, you shut down your laptop and slid it inside your purse. You had to be at the meeting room in fifteen minutes, which, in reality, meant you had to leave now. As soon as you stepped outside, however, it seemed destiny had other plans.

“Oi, sweetheart!” Daemon called, and you fantasized of strangling him with one of his expensive ties. You knew, without needing him to speak more, that he was about to taunt you. Still, he owned half the company, you couldn’t risk ignoring him. You turned, heels clicking in the hallway. “Bring me a soy latte, no sugar.”

“Mr. Targaryen, I’m sorry, I’m not your secretary. And I’m going to a meeting.” You answered, very politely, and started walking again, this time towards the elevator. Daemon followed, eyeing your ass with delight. You truly worked those dress pants.

“Come on, Hightower. We both know you are not really busy.” He arrived at the elevator first, to your disgrace, and pressed the button. Daemon leaned his arm on the wall, effectively caging you in. You glared at him, trying not to get distracted by how good he smelled. It’s not that you were attracted to him, surely. He just used an expensive cologne, and those always smelt good. Even your nephew Aegon, who was the sleaziest twenty-something you had ever met, could make them work.

“I am, though.” You ducked under his arm and pressed the button insistently, trying to get the elevator to arrive faster. Nothing happened.

“Doing what? Getting the rest of the board coffee?” Daemon snickered at his joke. You turned to look at him, giving him a disdainful once over that turned… Not so disdainful, when you realized he looked good enough to eat in that suit. Whatever, it’s not like it meant anything. All men did. Still, your cheeks heated up, and your next words came out in a mutter.

“Doing my job, Mister Targaryen. Which does not involve serving coffee.”

“Bah, you are a CDO. A made up position if I saw one.”

“I plan the whole company's social media strategy, and oversee our different digital platforms for purchase and devolution.” You glare even more, but quickly avert your eyes when you realize he is looking at you like he wants to eat you. Again. Gods, does he ever tire? “Hardly a made up position.”

“So you direct a bunch of nerds and interns. Big deal. You can still get me coffee, or send your minions to get me one.” Daemon stepped closer, twirling a strand of your hair between his fingers. You batted his hands away, shivering. From the cold, obviously. There was a storm raging outside, it had been one of the harshest winters in a while. It didn’t matter that you were wearing thermal clothes underneath your suit, which was wool. You were not affected by Daemon’s touch. At all.

“Here’s a novel idea.” You were just too angry to avoid insulting him. It was not often you resorted to those petty tactics. You left them to your nephews, Aemond and Aegon. “Why don’t you go bring me coffee? I don’t even know what you are doing in our department, you don’t even have Instagram, old man.”

Daemon laughed.

“Who are you calling old man, little girl? I will have you know, I know all about social media.”

“Oh, really?”

Daemon ignored you, typing something on his phone. You weren’t too bothered by it because the elevator finally got there, and you were able to step inside. Your phone pinged, as you did, so your hand went to the pocket of your blazer to check it. Distracted, you didn’t notice Daemon getting into the elevator with you.

Your phone pinged again. You took it out, checking the notification without unlocking it.

@caraxesrider has started following you

@caraxesrider: U were saying?

At that, you looked up and glared at him, startling a little at finding him inside the elevator.

“You know I will have to report this, right?” You quickly started scrolling through his Instagram, which seemed very… Normal. He followed his official one, and the accounts of his family members and plenty of models and fitness girls. In little clothing. What a pig. “You are not allowed to have an Instagram, apart from the official one that is in the hands of the community manager.”

“Says who?”

“Viserys.”

“Real mature, that you call him by his first name now. Tell me, do you think watching your father’s business partner marry your older sister, who is young enough to be her daughter, traumatized you?”

You ignored his taunt, frowning.

“I will report you to the PR department, they were clear you are not allowed to…”

“Not allowed.” He imitated your voice, mockingly. “Not allowed. Will you tell your daddy, little girl?”

“I’m serious.”

“Whatever. Report me. I don’t care, you are such a kiss ass.” Daemon rolled his eyes. It stung a little. You hated being called that. It was not your fault, truly. You liked following the rules. They were there for a reason. And Daemon’s antics usually made the company stock drop because his last name was attached to it. When Daemon got drunk and insulted a server or was spotted at a strip club, it was not him who suffered, but the company as a whole. He was a PR nightmare. His Instagram, no matter how private, would eventually leak and become another.

But whatever you were going to say, be it either a witty retort, or more talk about what you were going to do, died in your throat when the elevator jerked to an abrupt halt.

“What… What..?” You braced against the wall, the phone falling to the floor in your haste to hold on to something.

“Well, at least we still got power…” Daemon pointed towards one of the security cameras. “They will see us and then…” He didn’t get to finish his sentence because the lights turned off, leaving you both completely in the dark.

“You jinxed it!” You accused, voice shaking. You were not claustrophobic, nor were you afraid of the dark. What did scare you, however, was that you were trapped in an elevator in a building with no power, which as far as you knew, meant you could plummet to your dead anytime.

“Fuck. Never mind. Are you alright? You sound as if you are about to cry, and I can’t deal with crying people.” Daemon complained, switching on his phone, so he could light up the space. He truly looked concerned. He dropped to his knees to search for your phone and handed it to you.

“I’m fine. Just… Do you think we are safe?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Daemon banged on the wall of the elevator, making you let out a tiny yelp at how it shook.

“Don’t do that!”

“When elevators get less power, they jerk to a stop. It’s safe. It was probably the storm.” Daemon is leaning against the wall and starting to scroll through his phone. Like he is bored. And not, you know, terrified out of his mind because he is hanging from a rope in a metal cubicle caught between floors. The thought makes even more panic bubble up in your throat, so you try to think of something else.

“How do you know that?” You narrow your eyes at him, noticing how the light from his phone lighted up his sharp features, giving them an eerie blue glow.

“I read the OSH mail, every once in a while. That was in the winter’s newsletter.” He drawled, in a bored tone. “Come here.”

“Why?”

“Because you look frightened. Come here. I can make you feel better.” And he almost sounds convincing. Were the light on, you would be able to see that he is nearly salivating at the mouth, like the wolf about to pounce on a little lamb.

He has been working on you for a month. Little pretty Hightower, so tightly wound, always doing the right thing. So close to snapping. It’s like you were a present, placed on his lap by Otto himself when he sent him to this godforsaken department.

You gave him a dubious look, but stepped closer.

“Good girl.” Daemon brushed your hair back, gently. You were so close to breaking, he could taste it. “You will be just fine, just match your breathing to mine.

“I’m not having a panic attack, you fool.” You complained, trying to hide the hint of a smile on your lips. What was it about him that was so intoxicating? He had boosted your mood immediately. Oh, you hated feeding his ego.

"Rude.” Daemon muttered. He pulled you into a hug, pressing your bodies close. Chest to chest, hips to hips. Your curves against him, so damn soft, so ready for the taking. “There, there. It will all be fine.”

“I pity your kids.” Still, you melted into the hug regardless. Daemon took the chance to nuzzle your hair, hands trailing dangerously lower on your back.

“You are so rude and cunty. I can see the family resemblance.”

“Shut up, you inbred degenerate.” You mumbled against his throat, still hugging him. “You were chasing after your niece’s skirts not so long ago. And Viserys first wife was your cousin. Your family resemblance is worse.”

“I have not denied it.”

And of course, doing something very foolish, you tilted your head up and kissed him. Blame it on the sexual frustration, or the way he had shown you he had a decent side to him, but you never found him more tempting. Your kiss was heated, all teeth and frustration. If he responded, it would undoubtedly turn things less family friendly.

Daemon, never one to lose the opportunity to have sex, responded in earnest. How could he not, when he had been waiting for a chance to pounce for a month? His lips parted, turning the kiss into something much more dirty. His hands went to your hips, rolling them against his. You moaned.

When you parted, he had his trademark smirk on, full force. The one that said, Daemon Targaryen is a winner. The asshole was getting off on the thought of corrupting a Hightower.

You pressed a few careful kisses down his throat, making sure to not smear your lipstick in places that are noticeable. Daemon smells so good, it makes your knees weak. Fucking expensive cologne.

The arousal doesn't let you think straight, and he loves it. You are desperate for him already, Daemon can tell by the way you clutch and grope at him. And in truth, you are turning into a wanton little thing. Wet from just a few stolen kisses, it’s hard to think of all the reasons why this is wrong.

You want to suck his cock, badly. It’s not often, you are in the right headspace to give head. It gets guys too arrogant. And Daemon is already arrogant enough. The temptation seems too great, until he tries pushing your head down. Talk about a mood killer. It feels as if a bucket of cold water has been dumped on top of you, dulling your arousal and making you realize, in fact, you had been about to suck your nemesis off.

Daemon. You had been about to suck Daemon's cock. The guy who orders you to bring him coffee, as if you were some intern and not the head of your section. The guy who despises your family. The guy who calls you and your father kiss asses and Alicent a cunt. Twenty years older, brother to your godfather, man whore, Daemon.

Oh my god, are you turning into Alicent? Fucking men old enough to be your father? Being into Targaryens? Ew. No way. Viserys is nowhere near as appealing as Daemon. But still. What's next, leaving your career to pop out entitled brats?

You stop. Daemon pushes your head down again. It ignites a rage long settled on you.

“Are you seriously pushing my head down?” It comes out like an indignant little yelp. Turns out, the little lamb was not so willing to surrender, Daemon thinks. He has two choices. He can force you down, make you break. Or he can wait it out, lull you into a false sense of comfort, and slowly get you more and more pliant. Yet, he wants to see what you are about to do.

“Is it working?” He sasses, and you turn your head up to glare, even if he can’t see it in the dark elevator. Then, a thought sparkles in your mind. Kiss ass. And here you have someone who needs to be taught a lesson.

A thud. Your knees hitting the floor of the elevator, between Daemon's legs.

“Fuck. Are you really…?” He groans, and you hear another thud. Must be his head against the wall. Good. Perhaps this way, his two brain cells will actually connect.

You unbuckle his belt and open his trousers, the sound loud in the stillness of the elevator. It's done the fast and quick way, not really knowing how much time you have left before someone comes looking for you. You kiss his hipbones, then his thighs. Daemon tangles a hand in your hair, leading you to his cock. You go along with it, but do not touch him where he wants you to.

Instead, you go lower. And a bit further back.

“What are you…?” He asks, confused. Praying to god he showered that morning, you spread him open and lick a stripe over his asshole. His body seizes up, a moan leaving his mouth. “Oh, little girl… You are filthy.”

Daemon is clean, if a bit hairy. The carpet matches the drapes, you will be able to say now. This will be a little secret, between the two of you. When he mocks you in the boardroom, or asks you to get him coffee, you will be able to think of this moment. Not only have you seen him bare, but you intend to take him apart.

For all his posturing, he is only a man. It shows in the way he arches, hips bucking, desperate to find friction. Cock swollen and balls heavy, tip messy with precum. You lick at him, making sure to make the most obscene slurping noises you can, as if his ass was a fine meal. Daemon moans, hand desperately going to grab at the wall to keep himself upright, and you snicker.

“Tell me again how much of a kiss ass I am.” You taunt, curling one of your hands around his gorgeous cock. He is thick and warm in your grip, you can feel him throb in your hand. Your panties feel embarrassingly wet at the pure filth of the act you are performing, but also at the fact Daemon is losing control so steadily.

“You… Oh. Seven Hells. Fuck.” And it's not his fault, really. You have been steadily opening him up with your tongue, nearly french kissing his hole, only to spear your tongue right when he tries to form a coherent sentence. One of your hands keeps him spread for you, and the other is braced on his hip, to avoid him rutting and bucking. Daemon is so pent-up that if you weren't holding him, he would be humping the wall.

His hand tugs at your hair, harshly. You stop.

“What…?” He looks down at you, at the way your face disappears between his thighs, utterly confused. Then, he gives you a menacing growl, as if he were the one in control. “Don't tease, little girl.”

Daemon wears dominance well. It comes with being a Targaryen, you have realized. The entitlement oozes out of his pores. When he gives an order, he is used to at least five people jumping out of their seats to obey him. That gives any man an unstoppable confidence.

But it's not what you want. This is about rewarding politeness, not him acting like an entitled fool. You press down on the sensitive skin behind his balls, right on his perineum. You want him to beg. Not only will it teach him a lesson, but perhaps, get you railed after.

“Beg.” You order, pinching at his thigh.

“You are out of your mind if you think…” Daemon starts, but he quickly shuts up when you place a hand on his cock again. You are not what he was expecting, not what he was expecting at all. He underestimated you. Yet, he cannot say he doesn’t like what he is learning about you.

“Beg.” You insist, teasingly dragging your nails over his sensitive skin. Not enough to hurt, but to warn. Your teeth and mouth are very close to his most delicate parts, and he should remember it. “And be polite about it.”

“You will not get away with this, little girl. I’ll spank your pretty ass red.” Daemon complains, and you snicker. Funny, that he thinks that is a threat. You intend to do much worse to him.

“Oh, really? And who says you will have the chance?” Petty. Realizing you are not going to budge, and he cannot make you, Daemon lifts his hand from your head and pats you on the hair. Not an apology, no. A reward for a particularly clever pet. The game is not over yet. Not when he still has everything to play for. What is losing a battle when he can win the war?

“Please.” At his moan, you start jerking him off. It's a bit rough, without any lubricant, so you offer your hand to him, never stopping your tongue and mouth from working. Daemon catches the hint beautifully, spitting on your open hand. You go back to jerking him. His desperation is a heady thing. It gets you almost high on the thrill of it. You squeeze your thighs together, trying to get some friction on your clit. A shame you cannot touch yourself, with both hands busy.

You wish you could suck his cock, mouth watering with the sight. He has one of the prettiest you've ever seen, all flushed skin and slightly curved in a way you know would feel just right inside of you. And he is smells nice too, which is deeply unfair. Clean, yet still male and musky. Daemon tenses, cock throbbing in your hand. He is very close, about to spill all over you.

The sound of metal scratching against metal makes you jerk and pull away. Divine intervention, you think to yourself, as you get up and start rightening your clothes and hair.

“And where in the Seven Hells you think you are going?” His tone is so short and clipped, you worry he is about to pounce you. His breath is heavy. You bet, if you could see his face, he would be absolutely enraged.

“Are you deaf?” You answer condescendingly. You can hear how his teeth grit against themselves with how hard he must be clenching his jaw. “Bruxism is not sexy, by the way. You will hurt your teeth.”

“Deaf? Bruxism? What the fuck are you talking about? You just ruined my orgasm! I was so close and you, you… ” Daemon truly, truly wants to grab at you and choke you. He underestimated you. Again. Such a fool, he has been. Thinking he is leading his little lamb to the slaughter, and here you are, composed and retouching your lipstick without a care in the world. Oh, next time he gets his hands on you, he is going to make you cry.

“They are opening the door.” You answer, smugly.

“You little shit!” Daemon nearly screams. You cannot hold it any longer, and start laughing. The scratching turns louder, and Daemon hurries to tuck himself back into his suit.

When they finally open the doors, you strut out, not a care in the world. You kiss your father’s cheek, who is standing next to the security guys. Daemon glowers.

“Neither of you thought to text or call someone?” Otto asks, incredulous. He turns to you and checks you over. “Are you alright? Did he hurt you?”

“I didn’t hurt your precious little flower, Otto.” Daemon rolls his eyes. Now that he is standing in the light, you can see he looks slightly disheveled, cheeks flushed and standing awkwardly. You nearly smirk. “She is a cunt, just like you. If any, she hurt me.”

Otto glares at him, and places an arm over your shoulder, gently steering you away. He starts talking a mile per second, something about all meetings being adjourned because of the weather and waiting to give you a ride home. Of how worried he was, when you didn’t answer your phone and were not in your office. You hardly listen. Because your phone pings in your hand, another Instagram notification.

@caraxesrider: You will pay for that, little girl.

Your fingers fly over the keyboard in your haste to answer him:

I'm totally reporting you to the PR guys. XOXO.

[that-sarcastic-writer]

You Know Who To Call

Billy Russo X F!Reader

Summary: You went on a date hoping to forget him, but Billy was right there to remind you who to call

Warnings: explicit sexual content, minors dni, vaginal fingering, unprotected sex (pls wrap it), p in v, creampie dom!Billy, Billy canonically likes it rough, possesive!Billy, protective!Billy, jealousy (both of them) choking, bit of breath play, dirty talk, language

WC: 3.5k yall are already used to it

A/N: why my horny ass decided to write this knowing damn well itll flop I've not fucking idea, all I know is that that manipulative borderline psychotic and homicidal fuck can fuck me six ways till sunday so, I wrote it. Might write more, Billy has a lot of potential. So if you're one of two people are reading this, enjoy :)

You really should’ve known better than to come to the one bar you knew he often went to. Especially when you were then with another man, on a date. But in your defense, you never talked about being exclusive. You were pretty damn sure he was fucking anyone he could get his hands on, and with a face like his, that wouldn’t be too difficult. 

Or so you thought. Billy Russo was a complicated man, and you were yet to realize just how much. 

You knew you were setting yourself up for failure the second you said yes to this man’s advances, knowing that BIlly was the only man in your mind. But you wanted to force yourself to move on, and have other options. Oh how mistaken you were. The second this man opened his mouth you were already regretting your decision. It began with him judging your choice of drink, saying something along the lines of 'I thought pretty women could only handle cheap wine' and it just went downhill from there.

You were constantly checking your phone, wishing time went faster, so you could at least say you stayed long enough to be able to leave without seeming rude. To say that your night was going to end rather disappointedly was an understatement. Maybe an hour went by when you were standing up, excusing yourself with the reason of having to be up early due to prior plans. And you thought that was it. 

“Hey, the night doesn’t have to end so soon. We can head back to my place if you just want to get out of here.” And there it was. He stood up as well, crowding you in an instant, getting all up in your space to block you from leaving.

“I really can’t. Listen,” You took a step back to give yourself some room, “You seem like a great guy, but I’m not really feeling this. I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” He scoffed in disbelief, his face slightly twisting with hints of anger as he stepped forward again, making you take another step back, “You led me on all night, made me buy you drinks and all you have to say is you’re sorry?”

“Listen, I wasn’t leading you on. And I didn’t ask you to buy me anything, you insisted,” You stared at him with disbelief, baffled that he would feel so entitled, “Just because I agreed to going out with you doesn’t mean you get to take me home.” 

“Well I’m getting something, you can’t just leave me like this.” 

You were already done with tonight, and you didn’t want to hear anymore of this. You simply shook your head and started to walk past him towards the exit, but he grabbed your arm with a grip so tight you audibly winced.

“Don’t you dare walk away from me you bitch.” He spat, pulling your body against his with a forceful grip on both of your arms. You groaned in distaste, turned your head away from him and shoved at his chest, but he didn’t let you go.

“Get the fuck off me.” You said loudly, tugging your arms against his grip, but his grip only tightened. You were about to start screaming when you felt a tug on your shoulder, your date letting you go so suddenly you stumbled back, right into someone’s chest. 

“Get your fuckin' hands off her.” Oh.

You were confused, not quite registering what had just happened. Your date looked both confused and angry, but not at you, but at whoever just pulled you to his chest. And you only realized when you heard the man behind you speak. You would recognize his voice anywhere. 

“Billy what—” You turned your head back to look up at him, your back still to his chest as he held your arm now. His dark eyes only met yours for just a second in acknowledgement, and oh he was pissed. He tore his eyes away from yours to look at your date, jaw tight and back straight as he stood behind you, like he was marking territory. 

“Who the fuck are you man?” You date asked, anger lacing his words, but he didn’t dare move.

“Me?” Billy grinned slightly, his head twitching ever so slightly as he moved past you, his arm brushing your shoulder as he now stood in front of you, an arm behind his back as you gripped his hand tightly, preventing him from standing any closer to your date, “I’m just the guy that's gonna drag your face across the pavement if you ever get anywhere near her again.”

“Billy.” You said softly, you knew he heard you, but he otherwise ignored you. 

Your date stood with both a shocked and angry look on his face, but he said nothing. Billy was a good half a head taller than your date, and he wasn’t a man you’d want to get into a bar fight with.

“Get the fuck outta here before I break your jaw.” You squeezed your eyes shut at Billy’s words, you knew he could get physical pretty quickly, and the last thing you needed tonight was to have to pull him out of a fist fight. 

Your date stared at Billy for a long time, but he didn’t move a muscle, like they were doing this silent macho thing, see who backed out first. And Billy wasn’t exactly a man known for backing down easily. Your date ultimately surrendered, scoffing loudly as he shook his head.

“You can have her man. I didn’t even want to fuck that whore anyway.” He mumbled under his breath as he turned to walk. But Billy definitely caught his words, and with a clench of his jaw he lunged forward, mostly likely to slam your date’s face into a table, but you held him back, tugging his hand. 

“Billy, hey.” You said his name loud enough to get his attention. He was facing you now, his hand coming to touch your face as he made sure you were okay. You said nothing, only taking a deep breath when you felt his touch. And it made you forget why you even considered sleeping with anyone else in the first place.

“C’mon,” Were the first words out of his mouth, his dark eyes locking with yours for a second before he was dragging you out of the bar by your arm. You sputtered, saying his name in protest but you never actually made any effort to stop him. He shot you a look of irritation regardless.

“Get in the car. Now.” 

“I’m not getting in your car Billy.” You argued when he stopped in front of his car. He stared at you, and you simply folded your arms over your chest, giving him a defiant look that made his eye twitch. 

He said nothing as he looked around him for a second, making sure no bystanders were walking by to get the wrong impression of what was going on. Then, he stepped forward making you back right into the side of his car, and one hand came to rest flat against the car door, trapping you between his much taller frame and his car. You took a sharp inhale when he leaned down and you jumped when his other hand grabbed the back of your neck.

“I’m not gonna say it again darlin’. Get. In the fuckin’. Car.” He emphasized every word, his nearly black eyes not once leaving your face he spoke. You swallowed hard, inhaling shakily when he forcibly moved you, his hand still on the back of your neck as he opened the passenger’s door. 

You don’t think you’ve ever moved so fast in your entire life. You were sitting in his car faster than your brain could process it. Well so much for wanting to move.

It was like you were on autopilot, you walked right into his penthouse like so many times before. Only that this time, it wasn’t exactly all fun and games. You heard Billy slam the door shut behind him. You took a deep uneven breath, preparing yourself for the screaming match that was going to ensue before you turned around to face him. He was standing in front of you in three long strides, and you’d be lying if you said that the sight of him this angry didn't make you rub your thighs together a bit.

“You know that wasn’t necessary right? I didn’t need saving, and I definitely didn’t need you to bring me to your apartment.” You spoke first, but clearly, judging by the way his face twisted, it must’ve been a mistake. 

“You shitting me? Of course it was necessary. You see the way he was grabbing you? Like he thought he owned you or somethin’.” He huffed, shaking his head at you. 

“Sound familiar?” 

He stared at you with confusion for a second, then he rolled his eyes at you, “That’s different and you know it.”

“Oh really? Tell me Billy, how is it different?” You asked rhetorically, hands on your hips and head tilted as you looked at him.

He shook his head, eyes not meeting yours now, “I just don’t know why you went out with some asshole, what were you fuckin’ thinkin’?” 

You laughed dryly, running a hand over your face in disbelief, “What was I thinking? Well I don’t know, I just wanted to have fun with someone, see someone.” You caught the way his eyes flickered over to you again, and you could see the anger begin to flicker in his eyes, so you continued, “I mean, you’ve been doing it. You’ve been fucking Dinah Madani for weeks, so I thought I would fuck someone else too.” 

Confusion and disbelief flashed over his face, his eyebrow furrowing as he ran a hand through his black strands as he tried to process the words that had just left your mouth, “What? I haven’t—” He laughed dryly and shook his head at your stupidity, “I haven’t fucked Dinah Madani. And I wasn’t gonna.” 

You stared at him for a few seconds, face twisting with confusion and your lips parted as you tried to speak, “Billy, I saw you at the bar with her last weekend, I’m not fucking stupid.”

“Yes, I had a few drinks with her a couple times, and she did some training at Anvil, but I never fucked her.” He explained, sighing with irritation like he was explaining something to a petulant child, “I just needed some information from her, that was all.” 

You didn’t even know what to say, you felt stupid, and a bit angry at yourself for acting without thinking of even asking him what had really happened. Because despite your confusing and unlabeled relationship, you had no secrets, and you told each other everything. You laughed in disbelief at yourself, leaning your face into your hand as you shook your head. Billy grinned softly, knowing he had gotten through to you. He stepped forward, pulling you to his chest by your arms. You looked up at him, lips pulled into a defeated pout that he leaned down to kiss softly. 

“We still have a problem though.” He said as he pulled back. You frowned softly.

“What?”

“That you, darlin’, need to be reminded that if you wanted to be fucked, it has to be done properly,” His hand gripped your jaw, his long fingers sprawling over your neck as he held your face, “And if you want it done properly, you call me.” 

His mouth was on yours before you could reply, his hand holding your face in place as he slipped his tongue. You whined softly as your hands found his perfectly slicked back hair, and certainly tugged it out of place. You didn’t know exactly when he hoisted you up on his waist, or when he carried you to his bedroom. But you did notice when he unceremoniously tossed you on his bed, your back hitting the mattress with a thud. You took a deep breath as you leaned on your elbows, watching as he pulled his burgundy jumper over his head, his jeans following the same fate on the floor before he was crawling over you. He crashed his lips against yours again as his hand lifted your dress over your hips. His thigh settled between your thighs and he brushed it against your clothed clit, making you gasp softly.

“Please Billy.” You said breathless, looking up at him with pleading eyes. His lips tugged into a smirk, thoroughly pleased by your begging.

“You want me to fill you up baby? Want me to fuck you into this mattess ‘til you forget how to talk to other guys?” He said into your ear, words coated with arousal as he ran a hand over your thigh, fingers squeezing your skin. 

You nodded quickly. 

“I wanna hear you say it.” 

You swallowed thickly and took a deep breath as you tried to speak, his almost black eyes staring at you so deeply that you knocked the air right out of your lungs, “Please Billy. Please fuck me, I need you.” 

The growl that rang in his throat was nearly animalistic, and he was flipping you over on your stomach in a matter of seconds. You gasped softly when your face hit the mattress and your arms were stretched out in front of you. Billy sat back on his knees behind you, one hand pulling your dress the rest of the way over your head, while the other tore your panties down your thighs. He took in the sight of you, all sprawled out in front of him, ass out and ready to let him take you as he pleased. He’d be lying if he said the sight didn’t shoot straight to his cock. 

He spat on two fingers and without a prior warning, he pressed them against you, spreading the wetness over your clit. You gasped softly, the sound slowly turning into a quiet mewl as he drew quick circles over your clit. Though the sound quickly turned into a choked out cry when two long fingers slipped into your dripping core. 

“Ooh fuck Billy,” You whimpered softly, your hands clenching the sheets as his fingers filled you. 

He took in your sounds happily as he pumped his fingers gradually quicker. He buried them knuckle deep each time he slammed them into you, your whimpers quickly turning into moans. He scissored them open with each snap of his wrist, your core soaking the palm of his hand. He could feel it too, the way your walls tightened around his fingers, the way your thighs shuddered and your toes curled. And he had you coming all over his hand the second his fingers curled against that one spot that made you see white. His fingers slowed as you shook violently, and only then he pulled his fingers out. He left you empty so suddenly you lifted your head to look at him over your shoulder. You caught him sucking on his fingers with closed eyes for a long second, and the sight made you clench around nothing. 

His eyes quickly opened to yours and he smirked as he tugged his boxer briefs down and kicked them behind him to join the rest of his clothes. He then leaned forward, taking himself in his hand as he positioned himself behind you. He rubbed the head of his cock through your folds a couple of times, coating himself in your slick. You whimpered again, your head falling forward as his name fell from your lips. He gave you a hum of acknowledgement and leaned over you, one hand pushed your head down against the mattress as the other lined up his cock at your entrance. Just as you whined at his forceful action he filled you, burying himself to the hilt with one snap of his hips. Your whine turned into a cry and your hand fisted the sheets as pleasure filled your body. 

Billy gave a breathy groan of satisfaction as your walls clenched around him. He held the back of your neck, making sure you kept your head down while the other gripped your hip, holding you perfectly in place as he drew his hips back, pulling almost all the way out before he snapped his hips forward. And again, and again until he was fucking you into the mattress, and it was anything but gentle. 

Your whines quickly turned into moans and muffled cries, and Billy always took particular note of the squeal that ripped from your throat everytime he hit that perfect spot. When it got hard to breathe, you turned your head so your cheek was pressed against the mattress instead, and Billy’s hand moved from the back of your neck to wrap around your hair. And he happily took in the pathetic sounds each of his thrusts ripped from you. 

“Sound so fuckin’ pretty makin’ all those sounds for me.” The head of his cock brushed against your g-spot and another squeal of his name left your mouth, proving his point, “You think your asshole friend woulda made you cry his name like that?”

You shook your head as much as you could, with the position you were in, but he wanted to hear you say it, so he pulled you up by your hair. 

“Say it.” 

“No! Only you can!” You probably sounded so pathetic, you knew your voice was shaking. He gave you a grunt in response as he leaned his body over yours, his chest pressed against your back and his lips found the back of your neck.

“Didn’t think so.” He sunk in his teeth, sucking and biting that one spot in your neck he knew drove you insane, the pace of his pistoning hips never faltering.

The hand on your hair moved to the front of your neck, and the one of your hip also moved to your neck. He forced your head back, both of his hands holding your throat as he leaned down, lips capturing yours into a messy kiss. You could barely keep your lips closed long enough to kiss him properly. But he kept your head in place, and a guttural moan left his mouth when you pushed back on him as he fucked you, your ass meeting his hips.

“Shit, keep fuckin’ yourself on my cock. Fuck just like that darlin’.” He hissed, his fingers digging into the column of your neck most likely to leave bruises he’d brag about in the morning. “Fuck, you’re fuckin’ stupid if you think I’d want any other pussy when yours takes my cock so well.” 

“Please, please Billy I’m—” You didn’t need to finish your sentence, he knew your body better than anyone else on this earth, he could feel the way you clenched his cock the same way you did his fingers, and he was pressing his fingers to your swollen clit in an instant. 

“Come for me, do it now.” He groaned in your ear, moving his hand to the base of your neck as he held you to his chest, his fingers on your clit moving at the same pace as his hips. 

It hit you quick, and fucking hard. You were shaking so hard you probably would have slipped right off his cock if he hadn’t been holding you. And his name fell from your lips over and over as you came all over him. And with the way your walls gripped his cock like vice, he wasn’t much further.

“Fuck, that’s my girl.” His eyes rolled into the back of his head, curses sputtering from his lips as he gave you a few more thrusts before he held you down on his cock and spilled himself deep inside you with a breathy moan. 

His head fell forward, dark strands falling over his face and eyes still closed as he held you, his quick and uneven breaths filling your ears. Your own head fell back on his shoulder, eyes also closed as you reached back and your fingers brushed over the shorter hairs on the back of his head. He gave you a quiet hum, lips pressing against your neck briefly in a nonverbal praise before he pulled himself out of you, your mixed releases dripping down your thighs. He maneuvered you both into a spooning position, him behind you and you pulled flushed against his chest. Neither of you said anything for a little while, simply laying in comfortable silence as you both fell back into normal breathing. 

“Hey,” He mumbled into your ear, and you half nodded in acknowledgement, “You know that if you ever, ever, need anythin’ you call me. No one else.”

You bit your lip, turning your head to look at him over your shoulder, “Yeah.” 

“Yeah?”

You nodded, lips tugged into a sly smile, “Yeah. But y'know, I might need another reminder, just to be sure I don’t forget.” 

Billy smirked, in the back of his head wanting to take you all over again for merely suggesting it. He gripped your jaw and pressed a hard but deep kiss to your lips before saying,

“Oh trust me baby, you won’t wanna talk to anyone else after I’m done with you.”

[bullet-prooflove]

4500 Follower Celebration Bingo - Three Minutes: Sean Archer x Reader

Tagging: @soultrysworld @mysticcandymiracle @kmc1989 @emilyjr @toasted-stiletto 

Welcome to Nightvale - You and Sean bond over a book.

The First Time (NSFW) - Sean and you sleep together for the first time.

The Only One (NSFW) - You're the only woman Sean has been with sober.

Dirty Weekend - You and Sean spent the entire weekend in bed together.

Familes - Sean meets your family for the first time.

Emergency Contact - You realise you don't have anyone to put down as an emergency contact.

Dirty (NSFW) - Sean comes home after a day in the community garden and things get a little heated.

Make A Wish - Sean is triggered on his birthday when he sees a familiar face in the paper.

Sunday Morning (NSFW) - You give Sean a very memorable Sunday morning.

It’s Sean that ends up buying the pregnancy test from the bodega down the street. Sean that ends up searching on his phone which ones are the most reliable because there’s seven different types and he has no clue where to start. Sean that opens the box and reads the instructions because you’re too occupied with throwing up, to navigate the complexities of the leaflet.

“You’ve been sick for more than a week.” He tells you as he pushes the test across the kitchen table towards you. “I think it’s time to find out for sure.”

He waits on the opposite side of the bathroom door while you take care of business. Part of him is nervous, the other excited, the two of you haven’t talked about having kids. The truth is it’s never come up because the both of you tend to live in the moment, you fighting fires, him with his sobriety. You’ve never talked about what the future looks like beyond a marriage.

When you step out the bathroom he looks at you expectantly before you set the test down on the counter.

“Three minutes.” You say.

It’s the longest three minutes of his life.

His heart sinks when you pick up the test and read it out loud, he can tell your disappointed too from the way your body seems to sag with the news.

“I guess it is just stomach flu.” You say sadly before tossing the test in the trash and tucking yourself against him on the couch for the rest of the night.

“We should discuss it properly when you’re feeling better.” He says, his lips brushing over your temple but you’re already fast asleep, your head resting gently on his shoulder.

It’s a week later that he’s summoned to the hospital by his father. You’ve passed out during a training exercise on the rig, toppled off the damn thing and hit your head.

“She’s alright.” Dean reassures him when he meets his son in the E.D. “She has a mild concussion so you’ll have to keep an eye on her and the baby for the next few days.”

“The baby?” Sean repeats, unsure he’s heard correctly.

“He’s doing fine.” Dean assures him, his hand coming to rest on Sean’s shoulder and squeezing lightly. “They both are.”

“He?” Sean says, his eyes stinging.

It’s then that it dawns on Dean that his son had no idea you were carrying his child.

“We took a pregnancy test last week.” Sean tells him, using the back of his hand to wipe at his eyes. “It was negative…”

“Well they can give false negatives for a number of reasons.” Dean says, crossing his arms over his chest. “Faulty test, antihistamines, urine’s too diluted…”

“Water,” Sean realises as he goes over that time period in his head. “It was the only thing she could keep down when she was sick.”

“That’ll do it.” Dean tells him before he steers his son towards the bay you’re residing in. “Can you at least pretend to be surprised when she tells you? I can’t believe I messed up like that.”

Sean doesn’t get a chance to answer because his dad is already drawing back the curtain and there you are sitting in a hospital bed, clutching a sonogram of his son between your hands.

“Sean.” You say as you hold it up. “We’re having a baby.”

Love Sean? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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[scoobydoodean]

Do you think John ever used to hit Sam and Dean? If so do you think he hit one of specifically or do you think he hit the both of them?

I don't think there's any solid evidence that John hit Sam and Dean. Some people do believe he did at least a few times (maybe when he was drinking—see: 7.03). I can't think of anything that I believe would 100% confirm John hit either of them.

I can think of three episodes that might imply Dean was occasionally physically abused by John:

1.14 "Nightmare": Dean's "All things considered". Haunting little set of screencaps.

5.16 "Dark Side of the Moon": This one is mainly down to jacting joices. When the brothers enter Sam's memory of running away to Flagstaff, Dean gets upset as Sam's lack of memory of the ramifications. Dean says "Well, you don’t remember, do you? You ran away on my watch. I looked everywhere for you. I thought you were dead. And when Dad came home…" The look Dean gives on that last line tends to stick with people.

9.07 "Bad Boys": In the scene where Dean and Sonny first meet, Dean has finger-shaped bruises all over his wrists. Sonny first asks if the deputy harmed Dean, then asks if it was John. Dean says it was a werewolf, but that story doesn't necessarily make sense either.

Another suggestive hint comes from young Sam in 7.03 "Girl Next Door":

YOUNG AMY Yeah, well, she [my mom] has a temper. Sometimes. It's... no big deal. YOUNG SAM My dad does, too. You don't want to see him when he's drinking.

Sam doesn't necessarily understand the implication of physical abuse in this scene, but he later finds out that Amy's mother is physically abusive toward Amy. We also knew that John had a drinking problem long prior to 7.03. Sam in particular resents this to the point of making several references to John's excessive drinking in 1.01 inside his apartment building. He says John's probably just "Working overtime on a Miller Time shift", then tells Jess that John's probably somewhere with "Jim, Jack, and Jose” (these are all brands of alcohol for anyone unfamiliar).

While 7.03 seems potentially damning, Sam explicitly denies that John physically abused him in 1.14 "Nightmare". When confronted with Max's extensive physical abuse, he ends the episode being thankful that they had John instead of some other dad who might not have coped as well:

Well, it coulda gone a whole other way after Mom. A little more tequila and a little less demon hunting and we woulda had Max's childhood. All things considered, we turned out ok. Thanks to him.

One might also consider how Sam responds to hearing about abusive relationships in 1.14 and 2.17 with Max and Madison respectively. He asks Max why he didn't just leave when the abuse continued into his adulthood, and suggests that he doesn't see Madison as the type to be caught up in an abusive relationship (questions that do make one wince, yeah...)

My own thinking is the following: I don't think there's anything wrong with exploring the idea that physical abuse did occur. I think John's well-documented neglect is enough child abuse for me personally. I think 1.14 probably rules out John hitting Sam (but one could argue otherwise). I think some incidents can be used to suit the narrative that John hit Dean, but I don't find any of the hints we're given are concrete proof of physical abuse.

1.14's "All things considered" line might be interpreted as a convincing suggestion that Dean suffered physical abuse, but it also might just represent Dean slowly trading places with Sam over the season as the John Defender, as he becomes more and more angry with their father (especially considering 1.14 comes after both of Dean's pleas for help went unanswered in 1.09 and 1.12, and 1.11 where he says he wishes he could stand up to John).

5.16 comes down to a look that, at the end of the day, could be interpreted a multitude of ways (and if I think about it... it seems to me that words would haunt Dean more at that point in his life than fists).

It seems to me that 9.07 might actually rule out John being responsible for Dean's injuries. John had been gone on a hunt when Dean got caught for stealing, leaving Sam and Dean behind at a motel. John had been gone long enough for Dean to risk gambling to try and get more cash. This suggests John had been gone for a while, meaning Dean and John probably hadn't been in the same room for a while. This also means I'm not sure if I buy Dean's story about a werewolf though (John was on a Rugaru hunt. Dean wasn't with him).

[hauntedwitch04]

Foxy and little star

Nyx Acheron x reader

Words: about 1.3k words

Warnings: smut, dirty talk, public places, sassy cousin ;)

Author’s note: Hi loves! I finally managed to write some more after the crazy week I had. Hope you like it, your witch Becky

Requests are open I Ask

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KINKTOBER ...........-..........KINKTOBER TAGLIST 2023

DAY 8: Public Sex

"Nyx, not here, everyone will see us." You whisper in his ear as you feel his lips on your neck, and already you feel your common sense failing.

"Even better, so they will all know that you are mine, and mine alone." Comments the young prince of Night, as he confidently and quickly lifts your hips to place your legs around his waist.

You know it's a silly idea, and that anyone could walk down this hallway into the Court of Nightmares at any moment, but right now it seems like the least of the problems, too busy to get to the pleasure you've been craving since you set foot in the Throne Room.

It's been almost a year now that you and Nyx have been dating, but you both still haven't had the courage to tell your parents because it hasn't seemed easy to even tell your friends, let alone tell the High Lord and High Lady of the Night Court and the High Lord of the Autumn Court.

Immediately your mind, which had been lost in these details, comes back down to earth at feeling your beloved, taking off your panties, the only barrier dividing you at this moment. His lips are still on your neck, so eager, you pull him by the hair and match your mouth with his, hungry to taste the flavor of his lips. Still caught in that kiss, you feel him bring his cock toward your entrance. He pulls away slightly and gasps for you.

"Are you ready?" He asks, looking at you with his amethyst-colored eyes that first made you fall in love.

"Hurry up and show me the stars, little star, we don't have much time." You respond, kissing his nose, then his chin, and then his neck to leave the same marks he had left on you.

"As my lady wishes." He replies, before pushing his member inside you. You feel you can really touch the sky with your finger at that same moment. The pleasure your body feels is indescribable, and you find yourself biting hard on his shoulder to keep the sounds of your moans from echoing through the corridors of that cursed city and all his subjects from hearing the name of the one who causes you so much pleasure.

"By Mother, Foxy, when I saw you come in in this dress, I thought I cum at that same moment." Confesses Nyx, as she increases the speed of her thrusts, making you scratch even harder at the midnight blue jacket she is wearing this evening.

"That makes two of us starlets, you don't know how much I wanted to throttle all those bimboes in front of me who were commenting on how damn good-looking and sexy you look in this jacket, which shows off your whole body." You whisper, tugging at his hair again to make your gaze meet his. "Then I remembered who would have the pleasure of rolling around in the covers with you, moaning your name, kissing and biting you, and leaving the marks of his ownership tonight, and I pitied those poor fools." You continue, as you hear him let out a sigh of pleasure.

"Well, we're not exactly between silk sheets love." He comments, as he feels the walls of your pussy squeeze him tightly, letting him know that he is only a short time away from experiencing that extreme pleasure you have been waiting for so long.

"The night is still long, little star." You comment, with a groan, as you tighten your legs even tighter around her waist. "Nyx, I'm going to-"

"I know Foxy, let go and cum for me." He whispers, as you tip your head back against the cold wall of the hallway, and let shivers run through your body caused by both the contact of the cold wall with your warm body and the orgasm your lover causes you. You curl your toes as from your mouth like a prayer that only the two of you know begins to fall his panting name.

Nyx, shortly after you also reaches pleasure, releasing all his hot seed inside you, just in time, because you hear footsteps coming from the beginning of the hallway.

You are not yet totally lucid, still under the effect of the 'mind-blowing orgasm you had a few seconds ago, when you see Hecate, Nyx's cousin, appear.

"Are you all right? You've been missing forever, and we thought one had been sick." She comments worriedly, then changes her expression to a questioning one. "What are you doing here together? The last time you saw each other you swore to kill each other if one even felt the same oxygen as the other." She asks with a smirk as she looks at her cousin, who not so surreptitiously gives her a middle finger.

"Foxy felt sick and I was giving her a hand to go toward the bathroom to freshen up." Nyx lies, as she wraps an arm around your waist. You play along with him and pretend you can't stand, which isn't entirely untrue because after the pleasure the boy gave you, you only partially feel your legs.

Hecate nodded and headed back the way she came, making us believe she had bought that poor excuse we had made up, saying she would tell the others, and then pausing, just before disappearing from our sight and commenting with a smirk.

"However guys, next time if I were you, I would be more careful about leaving your personal items, like your "Foxy" panties, which are hanging from the chandelier above you." Immediately you look up and see that your friend is right. You feel your cheeks grow hot as you can't find the courage to look her in the eye. "I hope you used protection, I'm too young to be an aunt." She finishes before walking away and leaving us alone again.

"Well what can I say, we had almost succeeded." Nyx finally comments, chuckling, as with a gesture, shadows bring the underpants that were hanging from the chandelier into his hand. You snatch them out of his hand, before putting them back on, and immediately punch him lightly in the chest.

"This is for being so profligate and not taking my advice." You say, and before he can complain about what you told him. "And this is for the best orgasm of my life." You say before you kiss him, passionately and deeply. You feel his warm lips dance on yours, before pulling away to catch your breath.

"And I who for a moment had doubted our date tonight, to make your dream come true." He comments, chuckling after again feeling another light punch from you on his chest.

BONUS (I know, I could make oneshots just for bonuses :) )

"And who was right again?" Hecate says, humming as she approaches the most powerful group of people in all of Prythian, who look at her bored, others laughing.

Eris approaches, high-fiving her as her Uncle Rhys, not very happily, tosses her a coin that you, he and the High Lord of Autumn had bet on the relationship between their two sons.

"Never mess with an Acheron." Commented the girl's mother, Nesta, as she watched her giggling, recounting the scene to all who were present.

"Believe me, I know honey." Cassian whispers, tightening his arm around his wife's waist, then returning to his daughter's tale.

TAGLIST

@b7717 @forsiriussake @ohemgeewhat @123345566 @lust4lucille @lisamanban123 @shodowbane09

[aceofpatience]

🌙Your past life🌙

Well, hello my little oysters 🐚 This reading is an insight into your past life. I was looking into your energy, your previous job, goals, love, family, obstacles and advices form your past self etc. So there might be some things that could possibly trigger you (mentioned death, life difficulties). But, as always, take what you please, comment if anything resonates and just enjoy.

Shall we SEA?🌊

Pile 1. Uroboros

Who were you: Scorpio energy. I think you were in some position of power. Very secretive, always keeping things to yourself. Also keeping yourself in the shadows as you didn’t like being in the center of attention. You knew you were smart and you used it to your own advantage. Old soul, maybe during medieval times. A part of nobility?

Your main goal/want: I’m getting the vibe that you were born in an upper family but you just wanted more. However your ambitions were not all wishful power lust - it was more rational, strategic. You despised sitting still and doing nothing. You were deep into the game and you were good at it, trust me. To be honest, I’m getting some Game of Thrones energy - not only with fighting houses but also with the setting (castle corridors flooded in semi-darkness lol). You wanted to make things better (whether it was literal things or something more abstract).

What did you do (job/finances): Your wealth (at least in the beginning) came directly from your family or heritage. You didn’t need to work for money, you worked for yourself, maybe some relatives. You liked the struggle, the puzzles, the intrigues. It kept your mind occupied. „Finally, a worthy opponent.” *hides a smile*

Love life: I’m sensing some arranged marriage or marriage of convenience (but it’s not like you were pushed to do it - maybe even you were the one who thought it would be a good idea to get married for some reason). You were for sure not looking for love. BUT. With the marriage ceremony completed, true love was served to you on a damn silver platter. Y’all just skipped the dating phase lol. And, what is important - your spouse had very similar energy to yours. You joined forces (world domination couple xd). It’s like when Loki of Asgard fell in love with the alternative Loki. For some of you, it could be the same sex relationship (but then it would probably be in the shadows). Or it could also mean that there was actually no marriage - because it was your decision whether to have one or not - and if you knew it wouldn’t serve you, you simply wouldn’t get married.

Children (or not): I’m getting some only child energy. It was your decision to have a child - not only you planned it but you actively chose one (adoption maybe??). Or maybe you had a pupil for whom you were not only a guardian, but also a mentor. For sure your child has grown to be just like you. I don’t think you were that kind of a parent who shows their affection openly (I know, shocker), but you were a protector. And your child admired you. For sure.

Obstacles: Passion has always been a dangerous field for you in your past life. Dangerous dance. As well as all the people around you. You didn’t mind competition, but to find out that you actually deeply care for winning? That wasn’t something you signed up for. It was scary to find out that the game actually affected your emotions. You worked better with your mind engaged only.

An issue that progressed into your current life: Sometimes a spilled coconut milk is just a coconut milk. 🧉 It’s not about being grateful for shitty things in life or just being grateful - just look around to see other things. Maybe don’t focus only on this milk. Maybe on some fruit, mango perhaps idk. You don’t need to win every day to be happy. (Sorry for philosophical bullshit but I heart these one loud and clear)

Life purpose in your past life: Power, strength and wisdom (the holy trinity lol). You were surrounded by spirits who really enjoyed watching you mature. And by maturing in that case it meant being able to look in the mirror (and face your emotions).

Lesson from your past life: Sharing is caring lol. Appreciate your family or don’t be afraid to create one. Some battles are worth fighting for, even if you know you are going to lose. And sometimes it’s okay to step back (you made your point, so what? Everyone is dead already, nobody heard your damn point). Sometimes it’s enough to fight for what you need, not for what you want.

Death: I don’t think you died of old age, you were at full strength. You just grabbed a higher position when it happened. You fell off your high horse lol. Or maybe you literally fell off some rocks.

Pile 2. Orange tree/sefirot

Who were you: Sagittarius. Love given. Love received. Strong personality. You had all you needed in you. The real magic in a real person, who cared deeply for their family. Your touch made things grow. It’s like your everyday chores were a spell you cast on things around you. A warm happy gaze.  You did ponder the way the universe works, karma, past and future lives. I think the person you once were, was actually aware of who you are right now. You saw the future! And, I think you lived somewhere sunny and warm. Maybe the south? I see an orange tree.🍊

Your main goal/want: Peace. Harmony. Trust. The connection to the spiritual world. You had and still have really strong roots. You saw my gaze once. I feel there was a time in your life when you wanted revenge (or something similar) and as a result it carried you away from the life that you truly wanted.

What did you do (job/finances): Your previous job required an enormous responsibility on your part, you had a high position. So maybe you were a doctor, a judge, a scientist, or a soldier.

Love life: A lot of passion and desire, but also heartache. One of you had a position lower than the other. I’m also sensing some age gap, and there was some imbalance in that relationship. I think you often split up and got back together a while later. Maybe people around you were against your relationship and you had to hide it. I’m sensing you both went through a lot of changes during your lives - you grew up together. And you never gave up on each other.

Children (or not): Surprise child. Unplanned pregnancy. Maybe you live in times when your relationship was forbidden and you couldn’t get married. And with the baby you both found yourself in a difficult situation (but you made a choice to keep it). Very much your choice. That’s random, but I feel that despite all odds your child was very happy and optimistic. A little ray of sunshine. You cherished your child, spoiled them with love.

Obstacles: An illusion you wanted to live in. I don’t think you were naive, but some people might have judged you as such. It’s more like you just couldn’t stand the ugliness of the world sometimes, so instead you decided to create a small perfect bubble for you and your family. A cheerful oblivion. But it wasn’t oblivion after all - you weren’t oblivion, you just couldn’t stand all the bad things.

An issue that progressed into your current life: Number 8. Like it was in your past life, you still have the urgency to help others. You have hope in you, which is beautiful, but some people might use it against you. You crave your ideal life, but be careful or you’ll end up stuck in your fantasy. I'm hearing the words: „Don’t drown”.

Life purpose in your past life: Motherhood (not necessarily literal). You had such amazing nurturing energy, capable of creating life. I’m almost seeing this as if you could make a tree blossom just by touching it. You were a perfect listener, you made people feel seen. Also you could have been a truly amazing protective parent (I’m getting the vibe of a mama-bear).

Lesson from your past life: Protect your home and yourself first. If you genuinely want to help others, make sure to care for yourself first. Giving yourself to others doesn’t mean slowly destroying yourself. Breathe.

Death: I think you lived to an old age in your past life. And as you were getting older, you were separating more from the world outside. I think it might have something to do with your death. “For two grandma swore.” (don't ask lol).

Pile 3. Atlas holding the sky

Who were you: Responsibilities. Religion. You were a human lucky charm, attracting good things. Fate either with or against you in your life, no in-between. Your existence made others believe in miracles, even though you yourself were quite a down-to-earth person. You gave off the vibe of a noble knight who helps their neighbors and everyone loves them. I'm seeing a sentence: „It’s not who you are, but what you hold within yourself.” Idk bro. And I think you lived rather close to nature, so no big cities.

Your main goal/want: Your goals mostly revolved around material things (you weren’t greedy, just responsible lol). That’s random but I think you wanted to own a part of the land (take care of it, cultivate it, use it, and live there).

What did you do (job/finances): You were so hardworking. Couldn’t sit your ass down. Something school-related? Or maybe church? Professor or a priest? For sure your workplace gathered a lot of people for whom you were a mentor.

Love life: A love that is a gift from the Universe. Steady relationship. Instant attraction, a lot of courtship. Something that was supposed to be just a physical thing turned out to be a deep connection. You both understood each other so well - you could have had a conversation without talking, just with your eyes. You quickly got married but not without making a little sacrifice (moving out to a new place, a downgrade to your life before or something like that). But, like I said, this love was a gift. You didn’t waste it.

Children (or not): You planned your family. You had all the time in the world, so you could go the traditional way. I think you had a couple of children after you got married. Your home was idyllic, seriously. I’m even seeing some flowers in your house and a beautiful garden. Safe bubble of comfortable ease.

Obstacles: There was some unconscious desire in you for some drama. A big action, a great gesture. Don’t get me wrong you were SO fulfilled at the family level, but something about your spiritual life, your faith, got you kinda restless. It’s like you heard the fate calling out to you, but you loved your family too much to follow it. But the call stayed. A small rip inside you.

An issue that progressed into your current life: You still can’t stand to do nothing. I bet even if you tell yourself you can rest, your thoughts just keep running and running. It’s maddening. And I think you rarely ask others for help. You might seem open and friendly but all the most important stuff you only keep to yourself. 

Life purpose in your past life: Guiding others. You held some authority you knew how to use. And the call - I’m sensing that some goddess above or idk, some spirit, might have been a bit bitchy about you choosing the family instead of your divine mission. But you go, bro! Show’em!

Lesson from your past life: „Pride is not the opposite of shame, but its source.” Listen to uncle Iroh! Don’t take yourself so seriously. And trust your instincts. Remember that the distance from the real world might be painful - history shows that gods rather often ask for sacrifices than handle gifts.

Death: Your death was quick. Maybe poetic? Or just tragic. Happened at the moment when you ended some important part of your life. No specifics here, sorry dudes.

Pile 4. Prometheus

Who were you: You were a warrior. A street-smart person. You experienced so much at a very young age (I’m getting the number 16). Because of that you had to grow up too fast. Mature eyes, but a young face. You were rather reserved, distrustful, often skeptical. But also strong, resourceful, independent. People might have felt intimidated or even scared of you.

Your main goal/want: „What am I working on now?” You wanted to master your skill. Even though you’ve already gone through the training phase, you still wanted to prove yourself. You were being deceived by your own personality.

What did you do (job/finances): You commanded others. You had to face forces much bigger than you, all alone. You were giving orders, but it doesn’t mean that you didn’t work as much as your subordinates. You were responsible for others but demanded the most from yourself all the time. Your job was rapid, you definitely weren’t sitting behind a desk.

Love life: Twin flame. Your spouse was destined for you. You met at a crucial moment, when you both needed somebody like the other in your lives. You both were on a tough path: I’m seeing two soldiers supporting each other while marching. (I don’t mean your job was for sure connected with the military - it's more about your resilient energies together). Intimacy. Passion balanced by a soul connection. Whispering secrets to each other’s ears in the dark. Sharing quick kisses in the daylight. You will meet again. Coz that's what you do - you keep on going and your paths are always crossing.

Children (or not): I think the moment when you and your spouse were safe enough to start a family, was actually the biggest victory for you. For your children you were the biggest authority. They looked up to you all the time. As for you, I’m feeling a lot of pride and fear for them. You wanted to be a perfect parent, again putting too much pressure on yourself.

Obstacles: Some circumstances in your environment made you move around the world. For some time in your life you couldn’t stay in one place for long. The politics of the times in which you lived put crutches under your feet.

An issue that progressed into your current life: You have this tendency to make sacrifices, putting yourself in danger. It eventually may lead to a whirlwind of less fortunate events that cannot be stopped.

Life purpose in your past life: Embracing solitude. Finding out you are as much human as the rest of us. You can make mistakes and still be reaching greatness. You can be alone, but what for?

Lesson from your past life: Focus on love, connections. Learn to combine opposites within yourself. You don’t need to choose one path. You can be with others and not lose yourself at the same time.

Death: In your sleep. You had some kind of divine protection - as you died, you were taken care of and guided home.