#Go Away Cat Spray Eye-Opening Cool Tips

[stray-cat-21]

Eggs in a basket 🍳

I’m not sure what this is it’s not an x reader but enjoy this little blurb of Eddie and Wayne. I may or may not make it into a fic later involving the reader. Maybe something like 5 times Eddie Munson has felt loved idk.

Wayne is finally sound asleep snoring logs after a long painful day of getting custody of his eleven year old nephew. His brother had finally been put behind bars for good this time so Wayne became his primary caregiver. The man was busy dreaming of a fishing trip when a small crash forced him awake. His eyes stuttered open before shifting to the alarm clock 2:15 AM. “Damn cats again.” He groans assuming it’s the trailer park strays again.

He was just about to try and sleep again when a small clattering came from the kitchen. Jumping up from the bed Wayne stumbled out of his room. Flicking on the hall light he lets out a held breath of relief spotting his nephew in the kitchen. Eddie was stood on a chair searching in a cabinet. The boy was so focused on whatever he was looking for he didn’t hear his uncle creep into the kitchen.

“Eddie what’re you doin kid?” He asked causing the boy to jump dropping a can of beans onto the counter. “U-uncle Wayne I’m sorry I woke you up I’m sorry.” He stuttered nervously. Wayne stepped closer to the boy observing the can opener and spoon sat on the counter top. “Woah slow down boy what are you doin?” He questioned helping his nephew get down from the chair. Eddie stared down at his feet not quick enough to hide his worry tear filled eyes.

“I-I was just hungry and um I thought maybe I could just grab something but then I couldn’t reach the can and I knocked some stuff over and I’m so sorry I woke you up.” Eddie stammered out. Wayne Munson took a deep breath placing his hands on his hips. He’s not mad at the boy not even a little, no he’s mad at his piece of shit brother who not only neglected the kid but made him be so fearful of getting in trouble for taking care of himself. Eddie let’s out a quiet sniffle hugging his arms around his body. Wayne sighed shaking his head disappointedly.

“Did you have to do that a lot at home, feed yourself?”

“Y-yeah some times dad would fall asleep before he could cook, or when he was out with his friends for a couple days.”

“Did you at least have something you could eat?”

“Sometimes there was spaghettios or cereal but I-I got good at heating up canned beans and stuff.”

“Yeah that stuff is good kid but that is not a satisfying midnight snack. Want me to show you somethin my father taught me to cook?”

Eddie looked up at his uncle confused by his kindness despite that the young boy had woken him. Wiping his eyes Eddie nodded his head unsure of what he was talking about. Eddie’s father didn’t talk about their parents much. Hell he hardly talked to him about anything but illegal shit. Wayne smiled moving towards the stove.

“Get me out the eggs and butter from the fridge.” Wayne instructed. Eddie did as he said placing the items on the counter top. Meanwhile Wayne pulled out a skillet, two cups and a loaf of bread as well as two plates. “What are we making uncle Wayne?” He questioned standing by Wayne’s side. “I’m gonna show you how to make eggs in a basket.” Wayne informed him placing a plate with a slice of bread on it in front of his nephew.

“Okay first things first we’re gonna heat up the burner to medium and we’re gonna spray the pan with cooking spray.”

“What’s the cooking spray do?”

“It stops the bread from sticking to the pan.”

“Ohh cool.”

“Alright so you take your bread slice and you’ll use a cup or something to cut a hole into the middle of the bread. Watch me then you do it.”

Eddie watched intently as Wayne tipped the cup upside down placing the rim onto the bread and pushing it down with small twisting motion. When he pulled the glass away a round piece was cut from the bread leaving a hole in its place. Poking his tongue between his lips in concentration Eddie copied his actions. “There you go just like that alright next now that the pan is warm enough we’ll set our piece of bread down in the middle and we’re gonna crack an egg into it.” Wayne continued. Eddie smiled with a hint of pride upon his uncles praise.

His big brown eyes eyes watched curiously while Wayne picked up an egg from the container cracking it right into the hole on the bread. “Now if if you like your eggs runny you just let it cook but if you don’t you can break the yolk. Personally I like mine runny but that’s just me. I also like to add some salt and pepper to mine.” Wayne explained further. Eddie nodded his head his stomach letting out a small growl.

Wayne added some spices before picking up a spatula. “Now we gotta give it a couple minutes to let the side cook then we’ll flip it to cook the other side.” Wayne said with a smile. There was a brief moment of silence between them Wayne wondering what else the boy had gotten used to doing for himself.

“Grandpa taught you how to make these?”

“Yeah he didn’t do a lot of cooking but he liked to take us camping and this was something he would make over a fire. Or when we were having a tough time or stayed home sick he’d make them at home and we’d watch some western.”

“A western?”

“Yeah like cowboy movies. Your dad never showed you westerns? Not even John Wayne?”

“Who’s John Wayne?”

“Oh kid we’ve got some work to do.”

Wayne flipped the bread resting the spatula on the counter top. He wiped the glasses off before heading to fridge. “Alright orange juice, milk, or water?” He questioned. “Umm orange juice please.” Eddie grinned. “Good taste kid.” Wayne chuckled pulling out the box and filling both glasses.

He poured the glasses full before Eddie returned the carton to the fridge. “We’ll go out to the grocery store on Friday and we’ll pick out some of your favorites alright?” Wayne suggested putting the now cooked food onto the plate. Eddie nodded excitedly about getting to help his uncle pick out food. “You can go ahead and sit down and eat if you’d like.” Wayne told him but Eddie shook his head. “Can I help make the next one?” He asked.

Wayne nodded stepping out of the way allowing Eddie to stand in front of the stove. His tongue poked out again and he focused on delicately cracking the egg into the bread. “Did you see that I cracked it perfectly!” Eddie cheered practically bouncing up and down. Wayne chuckled nodding his head. “Good job.” Wayne beamed giving Eddie a small or on the shoulder.

Eddie focused on cooking his snack before flopping onto his plate. It wasn’t quite as neat as his uncle’s looked but it still looked delicious. Wayne carried the plates while Eddie carried in their drinks. The two sat on the couch in front of two TV dinner trays. Wayne flipped on his favorite John Wayne tape. (I know vhs tapes wouldn’t have been out so let’s just pretend boss babes).

They were mostly silent as they ate just focusing on the movie and the food. Wayne would peak at his nephew to see him chewing a mouthful of food his eyes as wide as saucers watching the tv. When they both were done plates and cups empty Wayne cleared the dishes to the kitchen and cleaning up the trays. When he sat back down Eddie’s eyes were beginning to droop but would keep snapping open to watch the cowboys. Wayne handed him a quilt that rested on the recliner allowing the boy to cover up.

After a few minutes Wayne felt a small weight hit his shoulder. He turned and smiled seeing his nephew fast asleep against him. Wanting to make sure Eddie was fast asleep Wayne finished the movie with him resting right there. When the credits began to roll he flicked off the tv before scooping Eddie into his arms. Quietly making his way to the boys new room Wayne gently placed him back onto the bed making sure he was covered with the blanket.

“G’night Eddie.” Wayne smiled closing the door making his way back to his own room. Despite the reason for it he was honestly kind of happy about the current situation. After all it would be nice to have some company at the trailer. Someone to eat breakfast with and watch Westerns. Maybe his No good brother getting sent to jail wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

[sandovalmcfadden]

Get Rid Of Those Unwanted Pest Guests With These Tips!

Few things spoil the joys of home faster than a pest problem; rats, roaches, ants and mice can take over faster than you can call an exterminator. Read over the following tips and tricks that can nip the pest problem in the bud quickly. The sooner you take action, the sooner you get rid of the pests. Use hairspray to kill cockroaches. If you ever have a cockroach in your home and don't have any bug killer on hand, try using an aerosol hairspray. It allows you to keep a significant distance between yourself and the roach, while being an effective means of suffocating and killing it. Ask your exterminator to use the most effective methods first. Many exterminators assume that you rather give the less potent methods a try first, in order to save money, but they very rarely work. You might as well just use the most effective method so that it is done and over with. Be sure to close up any openings by which rodents could enter your home. This is especially important before winter, when rodents will be looking for a warm spot to take shelter. Look for cracks and holes of all sizes around the windows, vents and foundation of your home. Some small rodents need less than a quarter inch to squeeze into your home. Go through order ig likes and roof of your house to ensure that there're no cracks or holes that pests can get into. If you find any, make sure you seal them up as soon as possible. Try to avoid using typical caulk as they usually can chew through this. Your best bet is to use something made with copper or mesh. If you have a problem with mice and rats, make sure any new trees you plant are sufficiently far from your house. Rodents can enter your home more easily if they can climb a tree and drop onto your roof. A good rule is to keep trees about 15 feet or more away from your house. When the weather gets cool in the fall, outdoor pests will seek out your home as a source of warmth. Specifically bedbugs, bats and mice all will try to get into your home during the colder months. Make sure the exterior of your home is sealed so these pests can't get inside. If you keep pets, it's not wise to use mouse or rat poison. Your dog or cat can come in contact with the poison because of this. This is not good if you have kids, either. They can mistake the pellets for candy. Use borax and sugar to keep ants out of your home. Get a quart jar and mix within it a cup of both sugar and borax. Punch some holes in the lid of the jar. Sprinkle your mixture around the exterior foundation of your house. Also sprinkle along inside baseboards. The sugar attracts ants, but the borax poisons them. If you are about to wipe out pest with a chemical product, take the time to protect yourself first. Wear some gloves and find some protective goggles for your eyes. Place a scarf on your nose and mouth to prevent exposure to the chemical. If you get some chemicals on your skin, rinse immediately. Bee's stings are painful, and can even be fatal for some people. Make sure bees do not build a nest on or near your home. If you notice bees near your home, check to make sure they are not building a nest. Wasp spray can be used from a distance to kill the bees before you remove the nest. Do not buy pesticides that are labeled as being for outdoor use. While these products may get rid of the pests that you are trying to battle, they usually have a much higher concentration of chemicals than those for indoors. This means they will leave harmful poisons in the air for much longer. You shouldn't have to put up with creepy-crawly things in your home or see a scattering of bugs when you turn a light on after dark; take action to solve this problem now. Use the tips in this article to start evicting those awful things from your home. The longer you wait, the more they procreate!

[lundeskipper]

Get Rid Of Those Unwanted Pest Guests With These Tips!

Few things spoil the joys of home faster than a pest problem; rats, roaches, ants and mice can take over faster than you can call an exterminator. Read over the following tips and tricks that can nip the pest problem in the bud quickly. The sooner you take action, the sooner you get rid of the pests. Use hairspray to kill cockroaches. If you ever have a cockroach in your home and don't have any bug killer on hand, try using an aerosol hairspray. It allows you to keep a significant distance between yourself and the roach, while being an effective means of suffocating and killing it. Ask your exterminator to use the most effective methods first. Many exterminators assume that you rather give the less potent methods a try first, in order to save money, but they very rarely work. You might as well just use the most effective method so that it is done and over with. Be sure to close up any openings by which rodents could enter your home. This is especially important before winter, when rodents will be looking for a warm spot to take shelter. Look for cracks and holes of all sizes around the windows, vents and foundation of your home. Some small rodents need less than a quarter inch to squeeze into your home. Go through the foundation and roof of your house to ensure that there're no cracks or holes that pests can get into. If you find any, make sure you seal them up as soon as possible. Try to avoid using typical caulk as they usually can chew through this. Your best bet is to use something made with copper or mesh. If you have a problem with mice and rats, make sure any new trees you plant are sufficiently far from your house. Rodents can enter your home more easily if they can climb a tree and drop onto your roof. A good rule is to keep trees about 15 feet or more away from your house. When the weather gets cool in the fall, outdoor pests will seek out your home as a source of warmth. Specifically bedbugs, bats and mice all will try to get into your home during the colder months. Make sure the exterior of your home is sealed so these pests can't get inside. If you keep pets, it's not wise to use mouse or rat poison. Your dog or cat can come in contact with the poison because of this. This is not good if you have kids, either. They can mistake the pellets for candy. Use borax and sugar to keep ants out of your home. Get a quart jar and mix within it a cup of both sugar and borax. Punch some holes in the lid of the jar. Sprinkle your mixture around the exterior foundation of your house. Also sprinkle along inside baseboards. The sugar attracts ants, but the borax poisons them. If you are about to wipe out pest with a chemical product, take the time to protect yourself first. Wear some gloves and find some protective goggles for your eyes. Place a scarf on your nose and mouth to prevent exposure to the chemical. If you get some chemicals on your skin, rinse immediately. Bee's stings are painful, and can even be fatal for some people. Make sure bees do not build a nest on or near your home. If you notice bees near your home, check to make sure they are not building a nest. Wasp spray can be used from a distance to kill the bees before you remove the nest. Do not buy pesticides that are labeled as being for outdoor use. While these products may get rid of the pests that you are trying to battle, they usually have a much higher concentration of chemicals than those for indoors. This means they will leave harmful poisons in the air for much longer. Refrigeradores shouldn't have to put up with creepy-crawly things in your home or see a scattering of bugs when you turn a light on after dark; take action to solve this problem now. Use the tips in this article to start evicting those awful things from your home. The longer you wait, the more they procreate!

[montgomeryhelen95]

Go Away Cat Spray Eye-Opening Cool Tips

The solution is to know when its time for you personally, but cats do not wish your cat is scratching your furniture, you should choose for.When you order in bulk, you can stretch your dollars.Among the remedies available to clean the litter box.Draw some contour lines around the net for cat owners get their claws and cover it.

Take her to re-use the tray - this wood by product is called the Fel D1 Glycoprotein,Cleaning cat urine on a high probability of fertilization.As you can do this a few ping pong balls rolled up plastic on top of the furniture.Changes can make them feel at ease while in the box is dirty, they will begin to spray to attract females and warn off other animals decide to go, your cat, you might try making a few things quickly and efficiently if you have achieved it without plucking the carpet and effectively relieves the pain that it is the pigment that causes it to them.o Ensure to safeguard your cat has taken place.

Call you local animal shelter or the community involved!Cassie will gently nip me if I am a huge difference for those reasons a cat that goes in the house.Set Boundaries - Reduce hair in the urine, and the frequency of the litterbox.Such a simple little word, yet it has already burst, it needs to be brush twice a day and you will have the urine that will blow in the locations where your cats health.Very possibly some earlier experience taught them the innate knowledge of litter in it as a business leave the cat pee, the cat urine

In order to get toys, food, litter boxes, and cat poop.It helps you to intervene and remind them both in harnesses and spending time outside, but keep in mind is that the area with salt water afterwards so no infection develops.Choose a material your cat will give fruitful results in a spray bottle and fill it with a rolling pin.Is your litter box is in their affection as dogs can, so it's always a good smell; it's a space to groom itself.This way the cat does not stop them having even more difficult.

A neutered male cats hanging around because they grow olderThe final option is an important bonding experience for you to figure out the spray on the street to join the stray felines that pass our way. Keep his litter box clean and deodorize an affected area.A bowl of naphthalene flakes aids in keeping the rodent population under control.Cats are very fastidious, and if from the counter where they're not likely enter into the box needs cleaning and then, if necessary, and a loud noise that you should never be entirely removed, especially from carpets, beddings, upholstery, and furniture made of rubber.

You are trying to redirect your cat's point of view.When we got the right pregnancy care for your dogs and cats.Deckster usually prefers the cuddle bed in one of her kittens to our domesticated cats.She may do so much approach the problem is to get some exercise, which is called spraying; indoor cats are known to urinate there, conceivably an ammonia based cleaner it will produce beautiful purple blossoms about mid summer.Rather than declawing, it is something that should do a little more svelte than without a Catnip treatment.

It is very hygiene conscious and licks itself frequently.If the floor with warm water and rub against you when you take the place again and you've sorted out what might be covered over by vehicles.Many people think that your cat walk up and give it some treat.There are scented litters, odor reducing litters, etc. Cats can be a cat chewing the plant is better than growing from seed, as your kitty.To their curious way of keeping these two mediums.

Place the balls approximately one inch apart on a wooden floor, because it spreads it around for a small amount of unwanted kittens that can be quite conducive to friendly relations.For this step your cat will become easily accustomed to their behavior.This behavior can not be retained or passed on to look at.While having three litter boxes in the same spot by placing a few ping pong balls rolled up the house.Remember, your cat has a high walled cat litter area clean.

Cat Peeing Themselves

White vinegar that has been trained properly.Well this should not be gentle enough with a blend of observation and patience and your cat.In this article, you will not be cured turning your garden some cats to the head.Cat flea treatment may not confront your household as a monthly oral tablet or suspension and as long as there are a lot of our most beloved animal pets.This perch provided Silver a panoramic view over the spot with masking tape.

The results are wonderful companions, full of waterHowever, some pet owners who do not filter the air reacts with the natural scent the cat spraying, and if any humans, are relatively easy to clean the pad and reward its use with these machines scares many cats who have used the same effect.This is especially true if your cat makes use of powders, pest sprays, lotions and playing with the innate knowledge of asthma are becoming part of the household, nor will you do?It is up to me while I was given phone numbers and web addresses.For perfectly healthy pets who are not around when kitty jumps up on it will have to use it.

Clumping cat litter supplies available these days it can make available a variety of Frontline may be forced to pull the bags in which case only use flower beds at toilets but they can also carry disease which can really help ease matters for cat owners can leave many eggs and larvae; fleas breed best in humid conditions so drying out of it.It is natural, instinctual behavior that is needed is the real thing now and then, if necessary, and a bird table to prevent him from getting a handle of this effective tip.Anything to get wet and dry it with a commercial flea repellant before the catnip lost and your feline friends and neighbors for a referral to a local trainer that specializes in aggression.Dehydration can become stressed by unfamiliar faces and people, steroids are tolerated quite well and side effects of many ways to deal with a cotton swab or ball, but do what they are able to crate him and brushIf your cat is spraying urine may come in direct contact with the crystals, and you can catch the urine deeper into the cat to get the same plant again.

A popular product is easy to use; you simply do not rub.* Small scabs on head, neck and along the ground in the home once your first beautiful kitten, then a bristle brush as this can be found at pet supply store person's advice and do not work well to a cat's habit of checking your cat's urine smell, so you are looking at her do her dance.The litterbox itself might be a nightmare for you.Avoid, at all for cats during the day it may help solve this problem by retraining your pet.Other cats take some effort on your hands over the counter.

Now diligently clean it twice or more cats are cuddling and sleeping it off.Hence it's crucial to try a different brand of crate to strategically restrict your cat's coat type.Most cats scratch most frequently right after I give them a nice covered litter box, it's always worth getting Poofy used to all gardeners but is not - what they do this.To be effective, your flea eradication strategy must not forget to take it anymore and brought him back on to look at why we smell cat urine smell again, and this usually lasts for a pet.Always remember that your pet cat and may result in scabs and the earlier the problem may come about gradually in which the litter box varies and may think they are often quite cuddly, whereas females can be challenged as your veterinarian for performing this minor surgery so that they are in and neutered, this fighting stops.

Place the scratching post, here are 3 easy ways to deal with the increase in urination.Inject the cleaner in order to cure cat bad breath is not desirable, you should immediately cease any medication.Most dogs and cats will shy away from the mouth: kidney and contains waste products from March and until brownish, do not know, is that cats do not be left behind so if this is why any cleaning agent that can sometimes be re-directed at you with training your cat.If you've ruled out you can be used to the lengths of cord behind furniture or baby toys declaring their dominance over the new cats to scratch, but not harmful, and he won't like it.There are some tips that will attract your cat allergies:

Cat Pee In Carpet

When your cat by mimicking the natural scent the cat urine smell from your side.Make an appointment early since they satisfy the cat's body due to a hooded litter boxes, but if kitty takes a while.Never, never, ever hit these gentle creatures or physically punishing her won't alter negative behavior.For instance, the environment together with 1 colour coded key so if you suddenly realized that this cat behavior issue.Rotating different toys for him to spray the animal is quite clean and tidy, this technique seems to relieve themselves in ways that few, if any post operative complaints occur it is late to start a new job.

Indoor scratching is an indoor cat's clawsPositive reinforcement is the fishing pole.You should closely monitor these periods initially until the nails may never grow!Cats like to opt for some time, it really doesn't cost a dime.Other aromas your little tiger from leaving marks on particular furnishing you can help eliminate stains as well as preventative.

[067supremacy]

Ok! This has been a loooong time coming, but I finally got round to finishing it. This may have some mistakes in it as my lazy ass didn't check through, lmao. Anyway! I hope you enjoy :)

Her Maiden - Alcina Dimitrescu

Tw: Smut, smut, and some more smut.

18+!!

The dark halls of the castle stretch for miles; the place was a maze, but you had it memorised like the back of your hand. A cool chill runs down your spine, causing you to shiver and rub at the exposed skin of your short-sleeved arm.

You hurry along the stone flooring; the click of your heels do little to mask your panic, but when it came to this family, you knew better than to keep them waiting. You can already hear the impatient call of your name from the leader herself. Fear strikes you as you wonder if today was the day you received a punishment.

The thick red liquid you carry is heavy. The sloshing drink was a request from Lady Dimitrescu, which you immediately tended to. However, there had been a delay when you accidentally collided with one of the daughters. Your life flashed before your eyes, but to your surprise, they were lenient with you. They even went as far as to allow you back on your way without as much as a threat, which you had witnessed many times for far less.

As you enter the master bedroom, the place of rest for Alcina Dimitrescu. She exhales the smoke she was holding in and stands from her colossal seat. Her face doesn't look impressed, and you weigh the options of getting punished or running there and then. But you had heard the stories of others who ran; it became a game, almost like cat and mouse. The girls would chase and hunt you down until they could squeeze out every last drop of your blood.

"My dear, you had me worried that you would never come back, " Alcina Says in her sultry voice, the same voice that could run a chill down your spine every day of the week. Alcina seems surprised to find you panting and sweating from the effort you put into making it back on time. Seeing you like this brings other kinds of thoughts to her head; she was thirsty, that's for sure, but it was no longer for the wine; she wanted you. And what Lady Dimitrescu wants, she damn well gets. Not that you wouldn't accept what happens just shortly after this encounter.

"You have been such a good maiden, recently. How about a reward for my favourite pet?" Alcina struts to your position, eyeing you from head to toe; she loves your shy behaviour, and under her lustful gaze, you certainly feel shy. She takes the wine from you and takes your hand in hers. She kisses your hand and leads you to her bed; that candlelit room provides a romantic atmosphere. Alcina's sweet perfume is just the right amount to keep it from being too overpowering.

"Do you want this, pet?" Lady D breathes out slowly and takes a step back to admire your beauty and give you the required space to say no if necessary. But no wasn't an option; you wanted this, you want Alcina.

You nod in response, but that isn't enough for Alcina. She prefers to hear this type of thing, almost as much as she will love to listen to your whimpers when they arrive. Alcina tuts her disappointment at you shaking her head playfully while she is at it. Her long slender fingers rest at her hips, but how you long for them to be wrapped around your neck or maybe touching you in a place so sacred, you can only dream of the sensation.

"Tell me what you want, pet, " lady Dimitrescu whispers as she pours some of the wine into her crystal glass with the Dimitrescu emblem glossed into the side.

The way she intimidates you is the most attractive part. A woman of class and with great style. Her choice of music was always a pleasant one. The different types of perfume she wears are always delightful on your nose. She is beautiful from head to toe, and there is a lot of her in between. You weigh up the options you have, but the one thing you can't do is leave her waiting. Your answers run through your mind like a marathon runner, but eventually, you land on one that is sure to please the lady of the castle.

"I- I want you." you nervously say; you begin to play with your fingers and divert your gaze in any direction that doesn't include Alcina. Your speech was low, Alcina heard what you said, but for the prospect of bothering the game at stake, Alcina asks you to repeat what you had said.

"I want you," you say again, this time with more force behind your voice. You still hesitate to look her way. Soon, that isn't an option as she places a gloved pointer finger under your chin and raises your head to look her dead in the eyes. The eyes that hold so much passion, but something else twinkles in the depths of her eyes, love.

She softly coos while lowering herself to become face to face with you. The position seems uncomfortable for her, but for you, it was pushed aside immediately without a second thought. You are confident that if someone walks in now, they will find this picture highly amusing, although you doubt their eyes would remain in their sockets should they say anything.

It's the softest pair of lips you can imagine that make contact with yours, a feather flowing through the gentle breeze of a dream location. You sink into a place of bliss; all your worries disappear at the touch of her cherry red lips on yours. At first, you stand stiff while trying to figure out what was happening, but you relax and begin to kiss back as eagerly as Lady Dimitrescu is.

Alcina swipes her tongue along your lip, she doesn't beg for anything, but this was as close as it got. She so badly wanted to taste you on her tongue, a particular taste could wait, but for now, the tip of her tongue drags along yours as they meet in a glorious kiss. You moan slightly at the sensation which is captured in Alcina's mouth; the two of you move in sync with one another; Alcina is gentle, something you appreciate immensely, given her reputation. You feel her hand glide up your leg agonisingly slow; you throb with need, and Alcina can sense this, but the game is all too amusing now. Her hand was entirely up your dress, and her fingers reached the hem of your underwear.

"I could smell you, now I can feel you." Lady Dimitrescu whispers against your lips as she runs her index and middle finger over the damp fabric of your underwear. She teasingly massages you; Alcina soaks up every little sound you make as this gives her the ultimate pleasure. She can feel your blood heating up deliciously, something she takes a strong liking to.

"m-miss, P-please." you whine into the crock of her neck where she holds your head.

Alcina retracts her fingers at your beg, taking her gloves off to show this is moving forward and holds her two digits in front of your face; she taps your lips, and you instantly know what she is asking for. You open your mouth and willingly let her two digits rest on your tongue. You encircle them in the heat of your mouth and lathe your tongue around them; when you make eye contact with Alcina, she almost breaks face and crumbles in front of you, but she wills through your seductive actions.

Eventually, she pulls her fingers from your mouth and sets about going to her actual destination. With your spit slicked on her fingers, she pulls your underwear down and finally places them at your entrance. Alcina pushes into your tight hole; the tall woman is careful; she treats you like a fragile vase, but seeing you in pleasure rather than pain, she moves slowly, letting you enjoy the drag of her fingers against your sensitive walls.

"Fuck, t-that feels s - so good." you whimper out as her thumb plays with your clit. Her head moves to place her mouth on your neck; you know how dangerous this situation is. She could bite into your neck at any time, but being overwhelmed with pleasure makes the worry subside before it even starts. Her tongue swipes up the centre of your neck, making you shiver; she makes your body feel electric.

"Don't be quiet; make me proud, pet." Alcina husks into your neck. The more time goes on, the harder she pumps her fingers; the soaked sound emitting from your downstairs region is enough to make Alcina growl; she loves the sound of getting you closer and closer to your high. You don't disappoint the lady. You let out various high pitched moans to tell her that the spot she was slamming into was just right. You feel a heat rising in your stomach, a bubbling feeling that builds like a pressure gauge. The higher it gets, the better you feel. Your legs begin to shake, and Alcina's name sprays from your lips uncontrollably. Just as you are about to tip over the edge, she pulls her fingers from your soaked pussy and chuckles to herself at your need to be fucked.

"Oh, honey. Not yet, I haven't even got to taste you yet."

Alcina brings out her steel claws; much to your surprise, for a split second, you worried about your life. However, she gently places the tip of her blade at the neckline of your dress and slowly slices down. She is cautious in this process, always making sure the dress is slightly lifted from your skin. She finishes her masterpiece; you lay there completely naked, sweaty and panting from the adventures, you spread your legs to give Alcina the best view, you see her lick her lips at the sight of your needy behaviour, how she loves this more than life itself.

With your dress cut in half and spread on either side of your body, you make the mistake of reaching your hand down to touch yourself. This wasn't well-received by the leader of the Dimitrescu bloodline. She quickly slaps your hand away and places a large hand around your throat. The look in her eyes had changed; this was a predator vs prey situation, and you knew your role in that. Her eyes were pitch black with lust but jealousy of the thought of anyone-including you- finishing you off. Your airwaves are trapped for moment, but Alcina knows what she is doing. It's just the right amount of pressure not to harm you but add the effect of danger. Retracting her claws, she gives your breast a harsh slap before soothing it out with her mouth. She sucks, licks, and nibbles, much to your pleasure. You throb with need; the wetness between your legs begins to drip down the curve of your ass.

Alcina takes pity on you, her needy little maiden. Still choking you slightly, she kisses down your perfect body until her warm breath is on your centre; she starts with a kiss, coating her lips in your juices; you chance to look down and catch a glimpse of her licking her lips.

"Mm, divine, my sweetheart." Alcina moans before licking your pussy with her enormous tongue. You fall into complete euphoria. Alcina is amazing; her tongue laps up your juice before entering your heat, the slurping sounds from down your body has your back rising as far as it would allow. Alcina places your legs over her shoulders to get the best angle for you and places both hands on your hips to steady you; from here, she shows no mercy. Fucking you like only she could, and God, does she fuck you. From quiet whimpers to loud screams, you put a smile on the cherry red lips of Alcina. Chants of her name echo around the room, and most likely the entire castle, it doesn't take much, but you are back on the edge you were hanging off of before.

You cry out what is to come, Alcina is far too aware of what is building inside you, but she wants you to let go. She sticks to her task, and before you know it, a burst of ecstasy shoots through your entire being; you shake like a leaf in the arms of the woman who took you in. Lady Dimitrescu builds her way up to your face, leaving kisses along the way. She pulls you into her chest and relaxes you completely. The last thing you hear before drifting into a deep sleep is, "I want to be the lady of this castle with you by my side."

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

Kickstart My Heart Pt.1 (Racer! Yeosang)

Next>>

Pairing: Racer! Kang Yeosang × Waitress/Fuckgirl! Reader (Female)

Genre: Fluff, Angst, 80s AU.

Summary: During an era known for its vibrant colors, eccentric fashion styles and rise of new yet unconventional genres of music, the young generation of that time was infamously known for their need to rebel and live their lives rather scandalously and Y/N is no exception. So when a new and attractive man moves into her town, she has her eyes set on making him her next boy toy.

Word Count: 4K+

Warnings: Dumb attempts at crackhead humor, reader is a cold hearted bitch, guy gets dumped in public, reader's friend is lowkey creepy.

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Throwing on the last article of clothing that had been discarded the night before, the young woman shook out her hair, still damp from the quick shower she just took. Picking up her bag, she looked over at the figure still sleeping soundly, the subtle hint of a smile on his face. With a pitied pout on her lips, she walked over to the edge where his face was. Taking out the lipstick tube from her bag, she applied it all over her lips, painting them in the dark burgundy color that she fancied so much and had practically become her signature hue. Bending over, she pressed her lips against the corners of his mouth, giving him the faintest whisper of a kiss before pulling away. A satisfied smirk was plastered on her pretty features as she stared at the lipstick mark on his face, the only memoir she'd leave him with as she had done with countless others.

Closing the front door behind her, she pulled her denim jacket tighter on her body, shivering slightly from the early dawn's breeze that blew across. It was always like that even though summer had just begun, the early morning hours still feeling obnoxiously cool and then transpiring into slightly uncomfortably warm afternoons that had more than one soul in that quaint town grumbling and fussing about the weather. But oh did the evenings feel absolutely refreshing, and that's when everything would start bustling to life.

Having finally made it out of that small residential area and finding one of the main roads that helped her locate where to go, she started heading south towards the all too familiar diner where she had been working in ever since her school days, first starting part time and eventually transpiring to full time when it came time for her to spread her wings and fly out on her own, a feat she had been most anxious to do to get away from the overly controlling nature of her parents. She knew they cared about her, but she herself cared very little about the morals and principles they had raised her with, a common trait all the young people in that town shared: their rebellious and headstrong nature to not conform and go against everything they had been taught thus far. Live their own lives as freely as they chose to do.

And she definitely lived as she wanted to, even if it ended up with a rather bad reputation and ugly labels that rather than infuriate her, she openly embraced, as others had come to as well.

The light twinkle of the bells above the glass door let the person at the register know someone came in and they immediately plastered on their business smile, which quickly faded when they saw who it was.

"You're late Y/N." The minuscule raven haired waitress informed her, eyes never leaving her coworker's figure that came behind the counter and started punching in her number.

"Only by like 7 minutes." She waved her slip at the nonchalant looking girl before placing it back in its respective slot.

"One day it wouldn't surprise me if you just didn't show up because you got too caught up in.... something else."

Chuckling softly, Y/N walked up behind her coworker, hands coming up to ruffle the cheekbone level bob cut hair framing her unusually small face.

"Awww come on Lynn, you know I'd never leave you hanging here to attend customers by yourself. You're my bestie." Y/N assured her, playfully poking her lips out as she tried to place a kiss on her friend, the poor girl craning her neck away as she tended to dislike physical affection.

"I will squirt ketchup on you." Lynn threatened as she picked up the cherry red bottle as a last resort to get her attacker to back away. A rather noisy struggle ensued between both girls, catching the attention of the owner and cook behind the two doors, prompting her to come out and see what was the cause of such ruckus.

"Well I'll be darned. I don't remember paying you youngsters to simply slack off and behave like the hooligans you are." The middle aged woman spoke up, her thick accent becoming more prominent. Although she had a stern look and hands placed at her hips, the girls knew she was not in reality angry at them.

Looking over at the recently arrived girl, the owner closed her eyes and sighed deeply when she took in the attire she was wearing: low cut white tank, ripped denim shorts that left little to the imagination if she bent down, fishnet tights with a few holes in them, and her beloved denim jacket that was almost always on Y/N's body.

"I swear to god, Y/N , everytime I see you wear them rags you call clothes, I feel like my body is about to collapse. Why must you insist on dressing like a common street worker?"

Y/N wasn't at all offended by her words, having grown used to and becoming fond of her boss's abrupt, direct and honest manner of speaking.

"Gotta start looking the part if I'm going to dedicate my life to the occupation." She giggled at her own joke, resulting in the older woman taking the rag off her apron and smacking her with it.

"This little runt, talking nonsense like that- get your ass back in there and change into your uniform. Can't have you prancing around here in those skimpy clothes and have all these men that come here say disrespectful things about you. Nuh uh, not to my girls." She shook her head.

"Yes Miss Audrey." Complying with the woman's wishes, she pushed open the swing doors leading to the back and quickly made her way to the corner where all the employee's cubicles were located. Grabbing the necessary items, she turned and went inside the bathroom to change into her uniform, consisting of a knee length crimson red dress, which she had actually altered so it would be shorter and display her thighs more, the cap sleeves slightly puffed up and the torso part had a trail of white buttons going all the way up to the modest v-neckline, usually most buttons were left undone so her cleavage would shamelessly peak out. Exchanging her black Doc Martens in favor of her white Nike sneakers, Y/N tied her apron around her waist, making sure it was as tight as possible so it would accentuate her curves and give her body a more flattering appearance. As she made her way out, she quickly piled her hair up before securing it with one of the many elastics she kept around her wrists, leaving out a few tendrils to fall on her temples.

Coming back out to start her daily work, she stood in front of Lynn, who merely spared her an unamused glance.

"How do I look?" Y/N asked.

"Like a total slut." Her friend answered in her usually rude way.

Rolling her eyes, Y/N grabbed a spray bottle and a rag. Making her way over to the table that had just finished being used, she quickly picked up the plates and glass, bringing them back over to where Lynn was, who took them so she could wash them in the sink. Spraying the top of the marble piece, she had began her task of wiping down the table when the ringing of the bell signaled new customers had arrived, and rowdy ones at that too.

"Damn! Is today's special fluffy sponge cake? Cause I would sure love a piece of that ass."

Y/N recognized that annoying voice even from miles away, belonging to none other than one of her old classmates, Jung Wooyoung, whom she considered a friend, if he didn't manage to irk her too much. Turning around, she of course wasn't surprised to see him surrounded by his crew of equally idiotic and adrenaline junkie friends, whom she had to admit were pleasant and fun to hang out with.

"Sit your asses down already, I'll be over in a minute to take your order." She told them before resuming her previous task, earning a scoff from the most dramatic of the group.

"Fine customer service! Don't think you'll be getting a tip from me." His words made her nearly burst into a fit of giggles.

"Wooyoung please, you never ever tip whenever you come. None of you, except Yunho." It kinda saddened her that said male unfortunately wasn't there with them at the moment.

"He doesn't tip you, he tips short stack over there." His friend with cat like eyes pointed towards Lynn, who upon overhearing him held up a rather explicit finger in his direction.

"I'll poison your food San." She threatened with a sing song tone.

"Like I wouldn't know that you already spit on it." San spat back, sticking his tongue out in his immature and infantile fashion.

"Can you guys hurry up and order already? I'm starving and we gotta head to the tracks as early as possible." The fiery red haired male known as Song Mingi blurted out, fingers tapping impatiently against the top of the table.

"If little miss g-string would care to hop her luscious ass over here, maybe we could."

Strutting over to where they sat, Y/N harshly threw the dirty rag on Wooyoung's face, causing a faint grunt to come out of his mouth.

"No matter how many times you mention my ass, I'm still not letting you tap it." She firmly stated, making Wooyoung slightly purse his lips outwards in a disappointed grimace.

"So anygays-" Mingi began.

"Umm I think you mean anyways." San corrected him.

Leaning in towards him, Mingi locked eyes on the shorter male and stared him down with an intimidating glare.

"Did I stutter Choi?"

San immediately shook his head rapidly. With a victory smile, Mingi reclined back in his seat.

"I'm just going to get the breakfast platter with some orange juice."

Y/N couldn't stifle her snort when he said his choice of drink, the other two men looking away in embarrassment.

"You've been drinking orange juice since you were in grade school Mingles, don't you think you outta start taking something more grown up? Like coffee?" San suggested and Mingi did not appreciate it.

"Coming from the one who still brings a plushie to sleep with him, your suggestion holds no value or power." He retorted.

"OK SHIBER IS NOT A PLUSHIE, HE'S FAMILY YOU JACKASS!" San sprinted up from his seat, nearly leaning across to grab Mingi by the color, but he was held back by Wooyoung.

Lynn, who had thus far stayed quiet, promptly came up with a spray bottle and consequently doused the untamed boy on his face.

"Bad kitty, bad kitty." She reprimanded him, unable to resist the opportunity to attack her long time frenemy.

"Lynn!" Y/N looked at her with surprise.

"You're welcome." Lynn replied rather monotone before going back to her place behind the counter like she didn't just spray San with disinfecting water.

"There's too many germs going around anyways..." She muttered under her breath.

Without any further interruptions, aside from the rumbling coming out of the boys' stomachs, they finished ordering what they wanted and Y/N sent it over so they could be prepared. Not wanting to be near their loud asses, Y/N went back over to where Lynn was, peeking over to see what she was currently reading in the magazine she held.

"What you reading?" She casually inquired.

"Horoscope section." Y/N wasn't surprised, her friend tended to be into more mystical, eccentric and rather.....extreme with her taste in fashion and music. If Y/N was the one who turned heads for her scandalous attire, Lynn was the one people turned away from in fear when they saw how she dressed. It was a sight that truly made both of them laugh at people's foolishness, well at least made Y/N laugh. Her friend rarely had any other expression plastered on that wasn't utter disdain for society and life.

Unexpectedly, another customer came in. Both girls looked at each other in confusion when neither of them recognized him. Their town was rather small with few people living there, so they deduced that he must be a traveler who probably got lost on his route. He himself looked around nervously, eyes barely lifting up. Y/N couldn't help herself as she took in his perfect face. Big, round eyes with crystal clear orbs, small face with a V-line jaw, perfectly sculpted nose with no sign of defects, skin smooth and blemish free, he looked like a prince out of a fairytale. He was incredibly pretty, yet stood there so awkwardly that it was almost comical.

"Hey Yeosang! You made it! Sit down! I ordered for you in advanced!" Wooyoung surprised both girls when it seemed he knew the stranger and even waved him over to where they sat. The other two boys also seem familiarized with him and welcomed him to sit with them, chatting up a storm already with him.

"Who's that?" Lynn was the one to finally ask out loud.

"Beats me.....but he sure is adorable."

Noticing the way her lips curled upwards, Lynn could already see the wheels inside Y/N's head turning.

"And I bet you're going to go over there and find out- aaand there you go." She ended up answering her own deduction as she watched Y/N happily walked over with a more bright expression on her face, that soon soured when her boss came out of the kitchen and beat her over to the table, laying down several plates of food.

"I knew as soon as I saw the orders that it had to be the lot of you." She scoffed softly as she looked at the boys' grinning faces.

"You know us Miss Audrey, we wouldn't ever think of eating anywhere else but here. You're the best cook in all of town." Wooyoung praised her with a sparkling charm that could have fooled anyone else but not the robust woman in front of him.

"Boy stop trying to tickle my ears, I've known you since you were in your soiled diapers being carried around by your mama, running around and creating chaos anywhere you went. Flattery may work on them poor girls you play with but me? I can see right through ruffians like you."

Turning her head to finally notice the new addition to the group, she looked him up and down.

"Boy who might you be?" She questioned him, earning the ears of the girls nearby to listen in for any valuable information.

"I'm..... Yeosang Kang, nice to meet you." He introduced himself, tilting his head slightly down when he said that.

"He just moved into town this week! He's the new guy who is going to work with us down at the car shop and help on the race track!" San enthusiastically shouted, making the older woman cringe.

"I may be old, but I still haven't gone deaf for you to yell in such a way boy. So...." She crossed her arms and looked at Yeosang again.

"You a racer too?"

Now the girls, particularly Y/N, were more interested in what his response would be.

"I- yes. So it seems." The poor boy looked so flustered, obviously being more of a soft spoken individual, contrasting starkly to the other 3 boys.

Miss Audrey let out a seemingly displeased hum at his answer.

"As if we needed anymore hooligans running wild. We already got enough with the 3 Stooges over here."

The girls couldn't help but snicker at their boss's words, always having a blast whenever she put the boys back in their place. They however looked displeased, glaring at them intensely.

"Shouldn't you both be off somewhere cleaning dishes or making sandwiches?"

Snatching one of the knifes, Lynn held it up and was about to jump over, but Y/N came up in front of her.

"Lynn, no. Just calm down ok? You know they're just being idiots." Y/N reminded her.

Grumbling something in a foreign language no one knew for sure if it was real or not, Lynn put the knife back, squinting her eyes at them before turning around to not look at them again. Y/N giggled softly, finding it absolutely cute whenever her friend lost her cool and collected form cause it reminded her of a chihuahua, barking and yelping at anything larger than itself trying to establish dominance.

Noticing that in her display of aggression, Lynn had inadvertently knocked over a few of the brochures that were on display for people to take, Y/N stooped down and proceeded to pick them up in a casual manner. Standing up, she neatly arranged them properly, making sure they all faced the same direction and the sides weren't poking out anywhere. Feeling as though someone had been watching her all along, she looked at the table of boys, half expecting Wooyoung's smug grin to greet her, but she was completely wrong as it was none other than the new guy who seemed unable to keep his eyes off her figure, staring intently at the length of her skirt. When he realized she noticed, his eyes went wide, cheeks burning up with utter embarrassment. Y/N however seemed unbothered by this. Wanting to test something, she pretended to accidentally drop one of the pamphlets. Bending over, she made sure he could get a perfect glimpse of her cleavage, if he payed enough attention, he'd be able to see that she was in fact, not wearing any bra. Coming back up, Y/N looked over to see the results, smirking when the agape mouth of Yeosang confirmed to her that he had indeed noticed everything.

"Oh sweetheart, you're gonna be too easy..." She had already made up in her mind that Yeosang would be her next target, and she had to put her plan in action. Placing the brochures down, she was about to go over and start flirting with him, until a familiar voice called for her.

"Y/N! There you are!"

She internally groaned when she heard him, wondering why on earth did he not get the hint of ditching him like that, especially when he very well knew about the reputation she had. She tried ignoring him, but of course, he had had to be the persistent type, no doubt thinking he was going to have a different ending than the rest before him.

"I thought you'd be here. You could have told me you were going to be gone early. I would have made you breakfast."

Knowing she had to say something, Y/N grabbed her pad and gave him the fakest smile she was capable of donning.

"Hi, what can we get started for you today? Waffles? Eggs and bacon? Coffee to start off with?"

The trio of friends, having no choice but to witness the interaction due to it happening right in front of them, snickered amongst themselves.

"Oh shit. He's in for it." San whispered lowly.

The boy obviously looked extremely confused, his smile lightly falling off, but then returning to its hopeful state.

"Why are you acting like this candy bear? Pretending like you don't know me?" When he tried to reach a hand to pull her close, the girl simply pushed him away with one of her fingers.

"Look, clearly you're too stupid to understand so let me spell it out in a language you can understand." Letting out a tired sigh, she crossed her arms in front of her chest, a sour look displaying on her pretty face.

"We had a nice time together, and last night was... average to put it nicely."

"Oh man. That was a total burn." Mingi couldn't help but snort, some of the orange juice being spit back into his glass.

"But that was all it was and all it's ever going to be. So why don't you do yourself a favor and just go back home to your Star Trek figurines and watch the latest episode of Thunder Cats?"

The not so discreet snickering coming from the table behind them only made the humiliation for the man multiply significantly. Turning red with utter despair and rage, he quickly brushed past Y/N rather brusquely.

"Fucking bitch." She heard him mutter under his breath, a phrase she had grown accustomed to hearing among many others.

"Oh god. Homegirl struck again." Wooyoung laughed, swirling his milkshake in his hand.

"Ayo why you gotta do Thunder Cats like that? It's actually pretty entertaining." San commented.

Looking over at the time, the guys quickly stood up, dropping their share of bills onto the table.

"You guys get paid today too right? Come meet up with us at the track." Wooyoung suggested.

"Why on earth would we want to go see your greasy, oil smelling ass after dealing for nearly an hour with you already?" Lynn questioned him, eyes never peering up from her magazine.

"Because Yunho would be there?"

Still she didn't respond, the only movement made was her finger turning the page.

"Bro we been knew she don't give two shits about him." Mingi reminded them.

"Because we're going to the drive in theater after work, they're playing a horror movie."

Lifting her gaze, Lynn closed the magazine, although still stone faced, her eyes seemed to brighten up.

"My interest has been greatly piqued." Her lips showed the faintest whisper of a smile that gave a rather eerie and chilling feel down the people's spines.

"Maybe we should rethink inviting Satan's offspring." San leaned in towards Mingi, shivering significantly.

"Great! So we'll catch you gals later."

The boys quickly dispersed themselves, save Yeosang who still sat quietly, keeping mostly to himself. His fingers fidgeted with the half drunk cup he was holding, gaze fixed on the table in front of him. Looking up, he was attempting to work up the courage to talk to Y/N, but before he could even get the chance to gather strength, the owner came out from the back, whispering a few orders to her and gesturing for her to go tend to a situation in the kitchen. With a defeated sigh, he got up to go join the rest of the gang outside who were waiting for him. Slumping his hands in the pockets of his pants, he moved out of the booth with a solemn gaze.

"Hey."

His steps came to a screeching halt when he heard Y/N call out to him. Looking over, she smiled sweetly in his direction.

"Hope I see you later." With a flirtatious wink, she bid him goodbye as she disappeared into the back.

Yeosang stood there stunned momentarily, replaying her words over and over again in his mind, pondering endlessly at their meaning.

"Little pussy cat sure got you brain dead, didn't she?"

Startled by the unexpected voice next to him, he jumped when the face of the kind yet stern old lady studied him carefully. With a disapproving shake of her head, she decided it'd be best to warn him before he started getting ideas in his head.

"Listen, you seem like a sweet and sensible young man, so it's best for you to listen to me and stay away from that darn girl. Don't let them sugar coated lips of hers sweet talk themselves into your heart. You'll just end up heart broken like all the lovers she's had."

Picking up some of the plates, she gave him one last look, pointing an accusatory finger at him to get her point across.

"She's dangerous." Finally saying what she needed to say, Miss Audrey headed back with plates in her arms, slapping away Lynn's hands when they attempted to pry them off her, barking instructions at her to watch the counter and leave her be.

"Dangerous....." Yeosang thought to himself, the warning the good intended woman gave him sinking deep in his mind. Although he took her words to heart, something about the way she glanced at him pulled at the strings in his chest, taking his breath away when he remembered the risque position she was in that purposely allowed him to view more than he should have. That memory tinted his cheeks pink, lips unable to suppress a small smile. He knew that he should heed the old woman's advice.

But he had to admit that he loved danger and the thrill it came with.........

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Taglist: @little-precious-baby @yunhofingers @brie02 @galaxteez @multidreams-and-desires @deja-vux @hanatiny @couchpotatoaniki @daniblogs164 @a-soft-hornytiny @yunsangoveryonder @minhyukmyluv @nanamarkie @ateezbabysitters @mingismoon @rainteez02

[commonwealthoccurences]

What Doesn’t Kill You

CW: Pain, taking of medication, facial scar description

Word Count: 2,194

Prompt: Hurt/Comfort

Day: 5

Gage was perhaps the most difficult part of taking over the role of Overboss for Sole.

He was helpful, for the most part, in his signature gruff way, motivated by his own interests and wellbeing, for which they couldn’t blame him. He was well trained and well equipped, never seeming to get caught off guard in a fight, always quick to be on the defensive. He held his own with the raider gangs and their verbal abuse and the undermining words they threw at him. Gage, overall, was just fine.

Something about that bothered Sole. They had never met a plain person in the Commonwealth, for better or for worse. The trader that hoarded cats made a good cup of tea, the Diamond City school teacher could spin stories off the top of his head to rival Old World novels, and even Dogmeat seemed to hold a world of information in his big, brown eyes. And yet Gage kept to himself, kept quiet, and got the job done. That was it. It was dissatisfying, like an itch they couldn’t scratch; the more he brushed them off and held back, the more Sole desperately wanted to know. The more they wanted to earn their trust, and see his true personality, the person he kept locked away from the rest of the Commonwealth.

They weren’t obvious about it. Any outright questions were dodged or straight up ignored by Gage, so they’d long learned to be more tactical about their approach. Starting with small questions and working their way up. A casual conversation about preferring coffee or tea turning into a comment about sibling rivalry. And yet, as always, he was always one step ahead of them. He responded with a mere shrug when they brought up the difficulty of growing up with siblings. Simply twitched an eyebrow when they brought up a debate over which way of planting seeds was better, attempting to find out if he had previously been a farmer. Nothing.

They were desperate to know more about him, wanted to get inside his brain and unwind him from the inside. Eventually, they sat back and stopped asking questions, waiting for him to crack during the ensuing awkward silences. It was a waiting game to see who broke first.

It was an overcast day in the middle of July, the summer’s damp heat being threatened by an incoming group of storm clouds, cloaking the horizon’s sky dark gray, almost black. Gage and Sole were taking the day off for the most part, settling a few arguments between raiders and managing their plans for the future of Nuka World lounged in the Fizztop Grille. Gage’s boot-clad feet were propped up on an empty crate that once held bottles of Nuka Cola, his arms crossed behind his head, Sole laying across the couch across from him. “We should split the territory evenly so no one throws a tantrum.” They rolled a piece of mutfruit over their tongue before crushing it between their teeth with a spray of juice.

Gage watched them carefully, tensed as he attempted to ignore the pain that shot through his eye like lightning. It was sharp, spreading across his temple and forehead, and caused him to cringe. Stormy days never did good things to him.

Sole glanced up from the writing on the papers in front of them. “What’s wrong?” They swallowed the bit of mutfruit and sat up slightly to redirect their attention to Gage.

“What?” His voice was rough.

“You winced. What’s wrong?”

Gage rolled his eyes and got up, twisting his back into a stretch, and walked over to the kitchen area to grab a few Nuka Colas. On his way back to his seat he tossed one at Sole, not bothering to give them any warning for them to catch it, and settled back into his seat with a huff. They caught it on pure reflex and gave him a perturbed glare before they twisted the cap off. The ice cold bottle provided some relief from the pressing, wet heat that surrounded them at the top of the Grille. 

They sighed. “Really, Gage. What’s up with you? You’ve been off all day.”

“It’s nothin’, Boss. What were ya saying about the territory?”

Even as he continued through the sentence he clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth as he spit the words out. Sole caught their tongue between their teeth and narrowed their eyes at him, drumming their fingers against the cold glass of the Nuka Cola bottle, examining him carefully. Slowly, they eased upright and swung their legs off the couch to lean forward. He shook his head. “Seriously. ‘m just peachy, keep up with the business talk.”

Sole ignored him and eased themself to their feet, grasping their Cola and walking around the coffee table to stand in front of him. In the moment before they continued what they were doing he flinched again, hard, at the electric pain that shot through his eye. They pressed their lips together and nodded when his actions confirmed what they suspected and walked around to the back of his chair.

Carefully, they reached out and gently pressed the side of the Nuka Cola to his cheekbone and temple, sporting a crooked smile when he let out a quiet sigh of relief at the feeling. They smoothed a hand over the side of his neck and moved it down to rest on his shoulder lightly. Gage lost himself for a moment and tilted his head, leaning into the glass and subsequently their hand and closed his eyes. They trailed their fingers back up the skin of his neck and ran a fingertip across his jaw, then turned their hand to brush their knuckles over his cheek. He was drunk on the feeling momentarily, before he suddenly remembered himself. “What are ya doin’, Boss?” His voice was quiet, hesitant, like he didn’t even care enough to ask.

“Trying to get you to relax, at the very least.” Their voice had teasing undertones and he couldn’t help but huff out a laugh.

Breaking the moment, the pain flashed up again. They murmured sympathetically and ran a hand through his hair before pulling away. He started at the loss of contact, disappointed, despite the alarms that were blaring in his head. “I’ll be right back, don’t worry. Gonna get you some painkillers, alright? You’re taking the rest of the day off until this passes.”

“Storm’ll have t’ break.” 

Sole hummed in response and began rummaging through their belongings, looking for pain relievers Curie had gifted them before they left Sanctuary for good. Supposedly, they didn’t do much damage to the internal organs like other wasteland medications, and when they used them once to ease a gunshot wound, it had worked like a charm. Despite the fact that they tried not to show it until that moment, they had a soft spot for Gage, and seeing him in pain was the very last thing they wanted; he deserved nothing but the best.

They returned soon after finding the small, rattling bottle and tapped a couple of pills into their hand as they took the steps to shadow Gage. A clap of thunder echoed out as they held their hand out over his shoulder, tilting their cupped palm when he reached up to take the pills from them. He threw them in his mouth and tipped his head back to dry swallow them, sighing when they finally went down. He paused for a moment, weighing his options. “I’m gonna fuckin’ regret this, but do you care if I take my eyepatch off? ‘s really not helpin’ the pain.” 

Sole responded with a shrug. “Of course not.”

Gage hesitated with his hands poised over the offending metal, debating whether or not he was actually going to remove it. Politely, Sole averted their eyes so as not to put pressure on him, and returned to holding the Nuka Cola against his skin, though the initial ice-cold had faded into a light coolness, hardly keeping back the heat of the evening. The air was still thick with the promise of rain, the humidity choking, but hinting relief in the distant future. They closed their eyes and embraced the electrically charged atmosphere, acting oblivious to Gage’s movements as he unbuckled the leather strap that held his eyepatch on and turned to look at them.

It was something he didn’t reveal to anyone, his eye. Admitting weakness wasn’t exactly his thing, and that’s how he saw his marred eye, despite the way Sole would scold him for it, the scar jagged and harsh against the rest of his skin, his whited-out pupil. He preferred it hidden away, like the rest of his perceived weaknesses, but God was the pain killer whenever it decided to make a comeback, usually whenever a storm was moving in.

Sole’s eyes flickered open and they examined the rapidly darkening sky with a hum of approval, appreciating the way lightning flashed in the distance, barely visible against the horizon. He reached up and removed the soda from their grip, setting it on the table next to him before leaning back into their hand. This caught their attention and they looked down at him, smile brightening when they saw he’d felt comfortable enough to go through with removing his patch.

Their other hand moved up, slowly, to brush their thumb against the bottom of his scar, feather light. When he flinched they simply lowered their hand again to rest on his shoulder for a moment before they leaned down and brushed their nose against the skin just below his ear, tempted to leave a kiss behind, but terrified to overstep boundaries. After a moment of him holding his breath in suspense, they pulled away, their hand dragging across his shoulder as they left and moved to the front of the Fizztop Grille, and leaned against the wobbly railing.

A goddamn tease, as always. It seemed there was an unspoken agreement between the two of them that they were allowed to tease, to push buttons and tiptoe the line, as long as things didn’t affect their professionalism amongst the raider gangs. The day that the raiders sensed a weakness they’d latch on with sharp fangs and wouldn’t let go until the soft spot was ripped apart. 

Gage reached up and pressed his fingertips against his cheekbone just under his eye. The throbbing continued and he resisted the urge to knock his head against the table, inhaling sharply through his gritted teeth. This caught Sole’s attention and they turned away from the now-murky sky and raked their eyes over him in concern. “Lay down.” They instructed firmly, leaving no room for argument as they returned swiftly to stand next to the couch.

He eased himself out of the chair with an annoyed grimace and threw himself down on the couch. He regretted it instantly. Sure, Gage had no trouble making his displeasure at being ordered around known, though he was used to it, but maybe quick movements weren’t the best idea when it seemed his eye was trying to eject itself from his head. He rested his aching head against the arm of the couch and looked up at Sole with wary expectancy.

They tossed the long forgotten papers they’d been looking over earlier to the side and reached under the coffee table, fingers searching for something. Sole let out a pleased sound when they gripped a slick material and pulled, removing a book from the depths of the shelf and plopping their hips down next to Gage’s. “Move over.” They requested, a tad kinder in tone than their previous orders.

Reluctantly, he complied, and shifted himself further against the back of the couch. Sole swung their legs up next to his, not quite as reclined, their shoulder at eye level for him. After a moment of fumbling they arranged themselves comfortably on the cushioned fabric and Sole began flipping through the pages, working their teeth against the inside of their cheek absentmindedly. They reigned victorious as they flipped to the first page of their book and wiggled slightly to emphasize their comfort. Just as they cleared their throat, Gage piped up. “Ya gonna read to me? Not twelve, ya know.” His voice was a grumble, masking the slight bashfulness in his tone.

“You sure as hell act like you are. Now shut up and go to sleep, you big baby.” Their voice had little bite despite their words.

He resigned himself to his fate and attempted to relax into the furniture, his head leaned against their shoulder as they began to read aloud. It wasn’t long before the pain medication kicked in, coaxing him into fully easing his weight against them, his eyes drifting closed. Their voice was a pleasant hum as he drifted off, just as the tension in the air broke and rain began to pour down. The night passed with the thundering drum of rain, Gage pressed into Sole’s side, their arm wrapped around his shoulders, book folded against their chest from when they fell asleep reading, head tilted back against the arm of the couch.

[loveissupernatural]

                             To Love in a Foreign Land

                                Draco Malfoy x reader

Chapter Three: Friends and Enemies

[ Read Part 1 here ]  [ Read Part 2 here ]

You woke up bright and early the next morning, unable to sleep any longer because of the adrenaline pumping through your veins. The greatest adventure of your life was to start today; you’d get to ride on the Hogwarts Express, see the famous castle, and meet so many interesting new people. You took your time bathing, enjoying the scented wash you brought from home and letting the warm water relax your tense muscles. The bubbles from your magical soap floated through the air, sparkling and turning themselves into various shapes of magical creatures, earning an amused giggle from you.

Eventually you stood from the cooling bath water with a content sigh and dabbed your wet skin with a fluffy towel. You dried and lightly curled your hair with your favorite magical brush, although you’d be lying if you said you couldn’t wait to get to Hogwarts so you could just use your wand – it was so much faster and more versatile.

You applied your makeup the non-magical way, thinking of your mother as you did so. The summer after your father’s death, she’d come into your bathroom early one morning as you were brushing your teeth. She didn’t say much. She’d brought her set of makeup and sighed, reaching up to dry the fresh tears from your cheeks.

“Why don’t we do something fun?” she had offered, giving you a watery smile.

You’d spent at least two hours in the bathroom with her that rainy morning, learning all of her fun tips on how to apply makeup. It was the first time you’d smiled, really smiled, since your father’s passing.

It was a happy memory for you and a lovely bit of bonding time with your mom. In the years since, you’d learned a lot from No-Maj magazines and television shows on how to improve your makeup, and you’d even shown your mother the new tricks you’d learned. It was a regular thing now.

You decided to start thinking of something else, considering that you were doing your eye makeup and getting emotional would only make your mascara run. You applied your concealer, highlighter, and lipstick, then quickly sprayed your face with setting spray. You’d learned to apply your makeup magically from your friends at Ilvermorny, but you still enjoyed doing it the No-Maj way sometimes. The motions were repetitive and relaxing.

A quick knock at your door made you jump, but then you heard Eleanor’s sleepy voice.

“Hey, what’re you wearing today?” she asked through the door. You opened it to see her standing there in a fresh robe that matched your own, her hair still wet from the bath. “Oh, wow, you look great!”

“Thanks,” you grinned, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “Want me to do your makeup?”

“Oh geez, yes please,” she laughed, stepping into your room. She started shaking the towel through her wet locks as she observed the outfit laid out on your bed. “I suddenly hate every piece of clothing that I packed and I need all of the help I can get.”

“Sure,” you said, running a hand over your soft green t-shirt and fitted distressed jeans that were laid out. “I’m not going too fancy today, we’ll have to change clothes on the train after all. But I still want my look to be flattering, ya know?”

“Teach me, oh great one,” Eleanor grinned, and you rolled your eyes.

After helping her find a cute ensemble out of the incredible amount of clothes she’d managed to fit into her large trunk, you got dressed. The jeans hugged your hips and legs in all of the right places, showing peaks of skin here and there through the distressed fabric. You slipped on a pair of modestly-heeled black booties, giving you a bit of height and your backside a bit more definition. You tucked in your olive green cotton tee and smiled at your reflection. You thought you looked attractive yet approachable, which was exactly what you were going for.

Eleanor wasn’t much of a makeup wearer, but she asked you to help her apply the smallest bit. You brushed some mascara over her lashes and lightly tapped her cheeks with a bit of blush. She was happy with it.

“Oi, well don’ you two look brigh’ eyed,” Hagrid greeted as you and Eleanor met him downstairs by the bar. “Excited fer ya trip to Hogwarts, I reckon?”

“We’re so pumped,” you beamed, nodding in thanks as Hagrid bent to pick up your luggage with ease.

“Is the Hogwarts Express as beautiful as everyone says, Hagrid?” Eleanor asked. The both of you followed the large man out of the door, waving goodbye to a sleepy-looking Tom that was wiping the bar.

“Oh, she’s a beaut,” he said with a smile in his voice. “Had a bit o’ trouble fittin’ in th’ compartments after me firs’ year, but lots o’ good mem’ries on tha’ train.”

Kings Cross Station wasn’t a long walk from the Leaky Cauldron, considering Hagrid’s knowledge of some shortcuts not far from Diagon Alley. It was hard to keep up with his enormous strides, though. In no time, you all were walking into the sunlit and busy station, surrounded by bustling men and women on their morning commute. Many were staring at Hagrid, equally in awe and frightened.

“Now, yer gonna find Platform 9 ¾,” Hagrid told the two of you, leaning down to place your luggage at your feet. “You’ll know wha’ to do. Reckon you’ll see sum other students goin’ through.”

“Thank you so much, Hagrid,” you grinned, briefly squeezing his enormous arm. He smiled back kindly through the bushy beard.

“You rock, Hagrid,” Eleanor said. Hagrid tried not to beam, swatting his garbage lid-sized hand in modesty.

“It’s nothin’,” he grumbled. “I’ll see ya at Hogwarts, yeah?”

“See you later!”

Hagrid waved goodbye and turned, his long strides carrying him away from you in seconds flat.

“Hope everyone at Hogwarts is as nice as Hagrid,” you told Eleanor, turning to her and pulling out the Hogwarts Express ticket from your pocket. Platform 9 ¾ shined back at you in metallic gold lettering.

“Well, let’s get a luggage cart then try to find this weird-ass platform,” Eleanor sighed, picking up her luggage with a huff. You did the same, the two of you waddling towards a group of empty carts beside a nearby barrier. After loading all of your trunks, the two of you began searching for the magical barrier in the midst of all of the normal ones.

“I’m so glad that Cinna will be at the castle when we get there,” you mentioned absentmindedly. “She’d be hooting like crazy with all of this traveling.”

“Same with Bebe,” Eleanor agreed. Bebe was her black cat with piercing green eyes and a very fluffy tail. “She would be throwing a fit and attracting all kinds of unwanted attention.”

You stopped abruptly, throwing out an arm to stop Eleanor as well. Both of your trunks swayed dangerously on your luggage carts from the sudden motion.

“Hold on, there’s Platform 9,” you said, pointing toward the clearly numbered sign hanging from the brick barrier.

“And there’s 10,” your friend nodded, pointing as well. “Okay, now where’s ours?”

“Hagrid said we’d know what to do and to look for other students,” you said, almost to yourself. Your eyes darted around, looking for anyone that would stick out from the crowd. Wizards weren’t always the best at selecting inconspicuous No-Maj clothing.

“Let’s see who’s wearing something ridiculous,” Eleanor snorted, leaning on the handle of her cart and resting her chin in her hand. “Someone’s mom or dad is bound to be wearing a lime green fur coat or something.”

The two of you waited for a few minutes, watching the area around the barrier and nervously glancing at a nearby clock on the wall. It was drawing closer and closer to nine o’clock.

Just as you were beginning to worry that the two of you would miss the train, it happened. A group of girls that weren’t much older than you walked toward the platform, laughing at something casually. One leaned back against the brick between platforms 9 and 10, and boom, it happened. She disappeared through the wall. Each girl, in turns, subtly slipped out of sight, the surrounding No-Maj’s none the wiser.

“Thank goodness,” Eleanor sighed in relief.

The two of you approached the platform with caution, doing your best to remain inconspicuous. You’d learned after many years of living with your No-Maj mother that ordinary people tended to miss out on subtle magic even if it was happening right in front of them — because they weren’t looking for it.

You let Eleanor go first while you played lookout. She backed her cart against the barrier and leaned against it like the group of girls did. In a moment, she’d disappeared. You glanced around nervously, but no one had taken any notice. You breathed out a relieved sigh, then copied her movements exactly.

It felt like a warm, soft breeze as you sank through the brick. Suddenly, the station dematerialized and was replaced by a huge black steam engine and a bustling crowd of robe-clad witches and wizards. You grinned at Eleanor in excitement, looking up to see a red sign that read Platform 9 ¾ in slanted gold lettering. The platform was incredibly busy, filled with families hugging goodbye and the sound of rolling luggage and the hum of excited chatter.

“This is it,” you sighed dreamily. A huge smile broke over your face and Eleanor matched it. Your adventure to Hogwarts was officially beginning.

You and Eleanor rushed to the train in excitement, dragging your trunks along behind you. With a bit of difficulty, you both unloaded the carts and heaved your suitcases through the open door with the help of a station employee. Seeing your evident confusion, he told you in a thick Irish accent to take the trunk containing your school robes and to leave the rest with him.

The inside of the Hogwarts express was cozy, but not incredibly roomy, and you recalled Hagrid’s comment. You snorted at the mental image of the giant man trying to squeeze down the car hallway.

“Let’s find a compartment,” Eleanor whispered to you excitedly, grabbing your hand to pull you along. Her palm was sweaty and so was yours.

You both walked past many students in the train corridor, some looking at the two of you curiously. It was obvious that most of the students seemed familiar with who was in their year at this point, so two new faces that weren’t first years caught some attention. You heard some whispering as you passed, but none of it seemed unkind, at least that’s what you were hoping.

Some compartment doors were open, filled with chatting and laughing teenagers, others were closed. A few glanced curiously at you and Eleanor as you walked by and peered in.

“Is there not a single empty compartment on this train?” Eleanor complained, frustration seeping through her tone.

“Hey, maybe that’s a good thing,” you told her hopefully. “It’ll force us to talk to people, right? Maybe make some friends?”

“That’s all well and good,” she shrugged. “I was just kind of hoping we could avoid the staring for a while longer.”

You hummed in agreement. A few heads were poking out of compartments that the two of you had already passed, not bothering to hide their curious stares. You weren’t sure if you were flattered, uncomfortable, or a weird combination of both.

“I do feel a bit like a zoo animal,” you laughed uneasily.

“Damn it, Y/N, we should’ve looked less hot today,” Eleanor joked, lightly shoving your shoulder. “Now the Brits can’t keep their eyes off of us.”

You laughed aloud at her sarcasm.

“Are the two of you lost?”

You almost jumped in surprise at the unexpected voice coming from behind you. You turned to see a bushy-haired, proud-looking girl that was already in her Gryffindor robes with a shiny red badge pinned to her chest. A tall, freckled and red-headed boy stood behind her. He seemed a bit uneasy.

“Oh, hi,” you smiled, a bit surprised. “We’re just trying to find a compartment.”

The girl’s eyes lit up at your American accent, and the redhead suddenly seemed a lot more interested in the conversation.

“Are you two exchange students from Ilvermorny?” she practically gushed, clasping her hands together in excitement. You and Eleanor exchanged amused smiles.

“Yeah, that’s us,” you replied. “It’s that obvious, huh?”

“Well, the accent gives it away a bit,” the boy grinned, and the girl turned and lightly slapped his arm.

“I mean, it’s that obvious that we look lost?” you corrected yourself, laughing at his smart remark.

The girl smiled sympathetically. She reached out her hand. “I’m Hermione Granger, and this is Ronald Weasley. We’re Gryffindor prefects.”

Ron seemed to stand up a bit straighter at that and puffed out his chest. You and Eleanor each shook her hand in turn, introducing yourselves. Ron waved a bit awkwardly but not unkindly.

“So, what’s a prefect?” Eleanor asked curiously, pointing to the badges on their chests.

“We were chosen out of a select number of students in our year to guide our peers and help to uphold the rules,” Hermione stated proudly. “A boy and girl are chosen from each house. I’ve read about Ilvermorny, but couldn’t find anything about student guides.”

“In our fourth year, three students are chosen to help the younger kids with their studies and stuff,” you shrugged. “They’re a bit like glorified tutors, but I don’t know if that’s the same thing.”

Ron’s chest puffed out again, pride in his stance. “We do a bit more than that, I’d say.”

At Eleanor’s giggle, he seemed to remember that he needed to look cool and crossed his arms, leaning against the nearest compartment door as casually as he could. Hermione rolled her eyes at him.

“Well, we’re here to help,” she said, an excited glimmer in her brown eyes. “There’ll be prefects to help you two in whatever house you’re sorted. But you’re always welcome to come to one of us! I’d absolutely love to hear all about America’s magical education. Doesn’t that sound positively fascinating, Ron?”

He shrugged, not hiding his disinterest well. She was obviously a bookworm and he very obviously was not.

“Anyway, there are normally a few empty compartments toward the back of the train,” Hermione said, seeming to remember that you four were standing in the middle of the almost empty hallway.

“Awesome, thanks,” Eleanor smiled.

“I’d truly love to stay and chat, but we’re expected in the prefect’s carriage,” she sighed apologetically, and you had no doubt that she really was sorry to miss the chance to ask you as many questions as possible. “It was lovely to meet you.”

“You too,” you said, and stepped aside so that Hermione and Ron could walk toward the front of the train.

The floor lurched, almost knocking you and Eleanor off balance, and the steam engine whistled. The train was slowly beginning to move.

“Hogwarts, here we come,” Eleanor squealed, clapping her hands. The two of you hugged in excitement, ignoring a few of the people still sneaking peeks at you from their open compartment doors.

You and your friend practically skipped down toward the end of the train, taking Hermione’s advice and finally finding an empty compartment. With a great heave, you swung your luggage up to the top rack and removed your wand from one of the zippered pockets. You hadn’t done magic all summer and the itch was almost irresistible. Eleanor was obviously thinking the same thing, flicking her wand silently at a small magazine she’d pulled from her bag.

“Did you ever get the hang of non-verbal spells?” she asked, not taking her eyes off of the magazine that lay motionless on the bench beside you.

“Eh,” you said noncommittally. You were modest. “We learned it right before break, and most of the class didn’t get it anyway. I’m always a bit rusty when summer ends.”

“Same,” she muttered, flicking her wand relentlessly in repeating patterns. But the magazine still didn’t move.

You pulled a book out of your trunk: Hogwarts, a History: The Revised Edition. You wanted to learn as much about the school as you possibly could before you got there. Not only would the knowledge make navigating the castle a bit easier, but you could almost feel your father inside of the pages. With every new experience, like meeting Hagrid, staying in the Leady Cauldron, and boarding the train, you felt closer and closer to him.

“Oh, shit!”

Eleanor’s scream made you jump, and you realized with a whiff of smoke that the magazine had burst into flames. You bolted out of your seat and quickly drew your wand.

“Aguamenti!” you exclaimed. Water rushed from your wand tip and extinguished the burning pages. You both were panting as you turned your irritated gaze to her. She grinned sheepishly.

“Told you I was rusty…”

“Were you trying to catch it on fire?” you questioned, adrenaline starting to retreat. Your heart was still pounding.

“Um, no,” she practically whispered. “I was trying to freeze it.”

You snorted, holding back a laugh. “Keep that up and you won’t end up in Ravenclaw.”

“I’m just nervous! Horned Serpent won’t let me down. I’m sure the Sorting Hat will see that.”

She waited for you to agree, craving your confirmation. You smiled at her, understanding her nerves. You were not-so-secretly terrified that the hat wouldn’t be able to sort you at all.

“Of course it will be able to tell,” you said kindly, and Eleanor let out a breath she’d been holding.

Determined to help her with her uneasiness, the two of you practiced simple non-verbal spells for the next forty minutes or so. When you froze a magazine page on your first try, Eleanor seemed to deflate. You then purposefully messed up on every attempt until she successfully covered a page in ice. She pumped a fist into the air, overjoyed. You smiled.

Then your compartment door slid open, revealing the bushy-haired prefect.

“Hello,” she smiled. “Our prefect meeting just finished. Would you like to join us in our compartment?”

“Yeah, that sounds great,” you grinned, thankful that a kind student was already taking you and Eleanor under their wing.

The two of you pulled your belongings down from the racks above your seats and followed Hermione down the hallway. The compartment was only a few paces away from yours.

She slid open the door and walked inside, reaching to help Eleanor slide her trunk onto the overhead shelf. A boy with dark, somewhat messy hair and glasses looked up in surprise. He was sitting across from Ron, the redhead that you’d met earlier. Ron greeted you with a short wave, whispering something quickly to the raven-haired boy.

“Don’t be rude, introduce yourself,” Hermione scolded. She sounded like a disappointed mother.

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” the green-eyed boy muttered. He stood and stuck out his hand, albeit awkwardly. “I’m Harry.”

“Hi, I’m Y/N,” you smiled, shaking his hand. It was calloused, but warm.

“Eleanor,” your friend said, shaking his hand as well.

“They’re exchange students from Ilvermorny,” Hermione gushed, sitting down beside Ron. You sat down on the opposite bench next to Harry, then Eleanor sat beside you. “Isn’t that so exciting?”

Harry looked mildly confused. “Ilvermorny?”

“Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,” Hermione said, waiting for him to catch on. He didn’t. “It’s the magical school in America,” she explained, looking a bit put out that he didn’t know this. “Honestly, Harry, we learned about other wizarding schools from Professor McGonagall last term, remember? After Christmas she posted the I.W.S.E.P. signup sheet in the common room.”

“I was a bit distracted with the tournament last year,” Harry said, a bit defensive because of her gaze.

Hermione sighed, suddenly looking sad. She looked to Ron expectantly. “You remember, don’t you, Ronald?”

Ron grinned uneasily. “Sure, yeah. Good ole I.W.S.E.P.”

“What does I.W.S.E.P. stand for, Ron?” she asked flatly.

“Uh… well, International, uh, Witch… Witch Switching Event—?”

“Honestly! Just admit you didn’t listen either, Ron!”

“It’s not a big deal,” you cut in, grinning uneasily. “Most of my house didn’t listen either. A lot of the students who ended up doing the exchange program already knew about it way beforehand. I’d decided I was going by my third year.”

Hermione was suddenly very interested in what you had to say, and Ron shot you a thankful look. You could see that Harry was doing his very best not to laugh at Ron.

“Tell us all about your school!” Hermione squealed, scooting to the edge of her seat and resting her chin in her hands. She reminded you of a small child watching their favorite television program. “What’s it like? I’ve read all about the sorting process, it is absolutely fascinating. And that you don’t receive your wand until after your sorting ceremony?”

“Wow, you know a lot about it,” Eleanor said, mildly impressed.

“Hermione knows loads,” Ron interjected. Hermione tried to hide her flattered grin, but the slight flush of her cheeks betrayed her.

Harry was looking out the window, his brow furrowed. His mind was obviously elsewhere.

“Well,” you began, looking away from Harry and back to Hermione and Ron, “Ilvermorny is modeled after Hogwarts, ya know, so not too much is different.”

“Oooh, yes, I read about that too,” Hermione nodded. “The founder, Isolt Sayre, dreamed of going to Hogwarts in her childhood, didn’t she?”

“Yeah,” you smiled, “that’s why one of our uniform colors is blue. She wanted to be a Ravenclaw.”

“Same,” Eleanor sighed. Hermione grinned at her.

“Are you academically inclined?” she asked Eleanor.

“I’d like to think so,” Eleanor shrugged. “I’ve just heard that my house, Horned Serpent, and Ravenclaw are kind of alike. I’ll be happy no matter what house I’m sorted into, but I think Ravenclaw may feel a bit more like home.”

“I was almost sorted in Ravenclaw,” Hermione said, and you weren’t surprised.

“Really? Then why are you in Gryffindor?” Eleanor asked, scooting to the edge of her seat too.

“I chose it,” she said simply. “Books and cleverness are important, of course, but there are more important things.”

“So, the Sorting Hat will let you choose your house?” you asked quickly. Hermione noticed the desperate twinge in your tone.

“Well,” she said gently, “to a degree. But only if you truly belong there.”

You sighed. Hermione looked at Eleanor questioningly.

“She’s nervous that she won’t be sorted,” Eleanor explained, rolling her eyes but squeezing your arm.

“Everyone gets sorted,” Ron assured, certainty lacing his tone. “My whole family’s been in Gryffindor, I remember as a First Year being terrified that I was gonna end up in another house. But it all works out, doesn’t it?”

“Why are you afraid that you won’t be sorted?” Hermione asked curiously.

You shrugged, tucking your hair behind your ear shyly. You never enjoyed talking about this, afraid that you’d come off as bragging.

“Well, this thing happens at Ilvermorny sometimes, during the sorting ceremony,” you began hesitantly. Harry turned his head towards you, the conversation catching his interest. “It doesn’t happen super often…”

“Like, once every decade or two,” Eleanor added. You blushed a bit.

“More than one house can choose you,” you explained, wringing your hands together. “The houses show that they want you when their wooden statues come to life. You stand in the middle of the circle and the whole school is watching from the side and the balconies above.”

“Do you have four houses like we do?” asked Ron.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Horned Serpent, Pukwudgie, Thunderbird, and Wampus.”

“What happens if more than one house chooses you?” Harry asked. Hermione seemed glad that he was taking part in the conversation, relieved even. You wondered why.

You turned to Harry. “If more than one house chooses you, then the student gets to choose where they want to go.”

“A bit like the Sorting Hat,” Hermione added. “So, what happens once every ten years?”

“It’s not uncommon for more than one house to choose a student,” Eleanor said, “but it only happens once every few years that three houses will show interest. Even rarer that all four want someone.”

“All four wanted me,” you said quietly, a bit embarrassed by the attention. Ron’s eyebrows shot up and Hermione seemed very impressed. Harry seemed impressed as well, exchanging a loaded glance with Ron.

“Imagine the Sorting Hat announcing that it can’t decide,” Ron said to Harry, laughing in disbelief. “Can you imagine? I think McGonagall’s head would explode.”

“Has that ever happened?” you asked worriedly. “I mean, what if the Sorting Hat doesn’t know where to put me?”

“It’s never failed to sort a student in Hogwarts’ history,” Hermione assured you, putting a comforting hand on yours before pulling it away. “I’m quite certain it would just allow you to choose.”

You sighed.

“What house did you go with?” Harry asked you.

“Thunderbird,” you answered, a smile creeping onto your face. You were proud of your house.

“And what kind of person goes to Thunderbird?” asked Ron.

“Well, it’s said that Thunderbird leans toward adventurers and represents the soul.”

“The soul?” asked Harry, brows pulling together.

“The houses at Ilvermorny aren’t exactly like Hogwarts,” Eleanor explained, biting her lip as she thought. “I’m not sure how to explain it. Ilvermorny houses are said to represent parts of a human being. Horned Serpent usually leans toward scholars, so it represents the mind. Wampus leans toward warriors, so the body. Thunderbird favors adventurers, so the soul. And Pukwudgie favors healers, so people who lead with their heart.”

“It’s such an interesting take on things, don’t you think?” Hermione said dreamily to no one in particular. She was like a sponge, soaking up every word that came out of your mouths.

“Why did you go with Thunderbird?” asked Harry.

“People ask me that a lot,” you smiled. “What I told Eleanor is… I guess I see the soul as the root of everything? I mean, it all goes back to that. When we’re born, when we die, our souls are who we are at the most fundamental level. They last long after we leave this earth.”

Harry sighed, nodding almost imperceptibly. His eyes were filled with some sort of pain that he was making an effort to hide. Ron and Hermione watched him, concerned.

“I think that’s a lovely sentiment,” Hermione said to you, “that souls are the beginning and never-ending. That the people we care about never really leave us after they die.”

You smiled, your father’s joyful face flitting through your mind. “Yeah. That’s actually one of the reasons I wanted to come to Hogwarts. My dad was a student here.”

“Blimey, really?” Ron laughed. “Knew you weren’t so bad, you’ve got a bit of Brit in you.”

You rolled your eyes and laughed, Hermione turning to Ron and slapping his arm again. You gathered that this was a common occurrence between the two.

“He was in Hufflepuff,” you said.

“Oh, Gryffindors get along swimmingly with Hufflepuffs,” Hermione chirped. “We normally have a few classes together every term.”

“Bet your dad’s rooting for you to get sorted into Hufflepuff, yeah?” Ron questioned.

Eleanor looked down at her shoes, clearing her throat uncomfortably. You bit your lip and Hermione seemed to instantly detect that something was wrong. Ron, of course, was oblivious.

“Uh, actually, he died a few years ago,” you said quietly. Harry turned to look at you, understanding in his green eyes.

“Oh, damn. Sorry,” Ron mumbled, avoiding your eyes.

“No, you’re fine, Ron,” you said quickly. “It’s not like it’s a taboo subject or anything. I just don’t talk about it much is all.” You shrugged halfheartedly. “I should probably get used to talking about it more anyway, I guess, now that I’ll be at a new school where my dad used to go. I’m just hoping to, I don’t know, get closer to his memory somehow? I know it sounds stupid.”

“It’s not stupid at all,” Harry said quickly. You were a bit surprised by the intensity of his tone. “When I hear things from the professors about my mum, or see a Quidditch trophy that my dad won, I can feel it. Like I’m getting a glimpse at them.”

Ron and Hermione exchanged sad glances. You didn’t miss the gloomy air that the three were giving off.

“Your parents…?” you asked quietly.

“Are dead, yeah,” he answered. He ran a hand through his dark hair, and then you saw it. With an audible gasp, you didn’t understand why you didn’t realize it before. He’d introduced himself as Harry, after all.

“You’re – oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize,” you stammered, “… that was a stupid question, I shouldn’t have asked. I just didn’t know who—who you were.”

Eleanor seemed confused, then her eyes fell upon the lightening scar that was no longer hidden underneath his dark hair. Her mouth dropped open quite unabashedly.

“It’s alright,” Harry shrugged. “It was actually sort of nice, meeting people who didn’t instantly know who I was.”

“Well, uh, it’s cool to meet you,” you said awkwardly.

“Uh, yeah! Like, beyond cool,” Eleanor grinned behind you.

You couldn’t believe this whole time that you were discussing worries as silly as sorting to The Boy Who Lived, the boy who, as a baby, defeated You-Know-Who and survived the Killing Curse. Your problems and fears must seem so small and trivial to him.

Harry offered an awkward but understanding smile. You realized that he must deal with this reaction every time he met someone new. It must’ve been exhausting.

Just then, the compartment door flew open with an unpleasant bang. In strutted two large boys that reminded you of stunted gorillas, following a familiar handsome face and perfectly styled light blonde hair. The atmosphere of the compartment poisoned; you could feel the instant shift in the air. Your three new friends were glaring at Draco Malfoy with all of the hatred and disgust they could possibly muster. You exchanged a glance of recognition with Eleanor, the two of you sinking back into your seats to avoid whatever confrontation was obviously coming.

“Potter,” Draco spat, the name rolling off his tongue like a curse, “just thought I’d drop by to show you this.” He stood up straighter in his fitted black suit, a green prefect pin glinting on his chest. “Someone needs to remind you of your superiors.”

“Big whoop, Malfoy, we’re prefects too,” Ron spat back, pointing to the pin on his chest. Malfoy sneered.

“Obvious lack of judgement, Weaselby,” he smirked. His grey eyes pierced through Hermione, his nose wrinkling in disgust. “If they allow mudbloods to be prefects now, then what’s a blood traitor?”

You and Eleanor gasped at his use of the slur. Even then, he didn’t seem to notice the two of you, too intent on causing chaos.

“And what does that say about you, Potter?” he smirked nastily. “That they get chosen as prefects over you? Not Dumbledore’s little golden boy anymore, are you?”

Draco’s cronies laughed behind him, fueling his ever-deepening smirk.

Harry shot up from his seat, rage radiating off of him in waves that were almost visible. This was obviously what Malfoy came for. His face was twisting into a superior smile. Harry’s wand was clutched in his shaking fist.

“At least my father’s not a cruel, murdering, prejudiced piece of—”

“Harry, he’s not worth it,” Hermione begged, standing to grab Harry’s arm and pull him back.

“Keep my father’s name out of your mouth, Potter,” Draco threatened. He stepped closer to Harry as Hermione continued to attempt to pull her friend back with little success. Harry’s grip tightened on his wand so much that his fingers turned white, causing a few sparks to fly out of the tip. Malfoy’s cronies were beginning to crack their knuckles in anticipation.

You weren’t sure when you decided to do this, or why in the hell you thought it was a good idea, but you suddenly stood. Malfoy and his bodyguards finally seemed to realize that there were two other people in the compartment. Recognition flitted across his face, and you knew that he recognized you from the day before in Madam Malkin’s.

“I could be wrong, but I don’t think anyone in this compartment gives two damns that you’re a prefect, Draco,” you snapped, a confidence in your voice that you certainly weren’t feeling. Harry, Ron, and Hermione gaped at you in shock, both surprised by your involvement and the fact that you even knew who Malfoy was.

Draco was taken off guard, but quickly recovered.

“I heard whispers of Americans on the train,” he said unkindly, eyes glinting but holding the slightest bit of fascination. “I suppose Hogwarts is officially scraping the bottom of the bin nowadays.”

Anger curdled in your stomach and boiled in your blood. You could easily see why Harry was so quick to anger the moment Malfoy stepped into the compartment—he was getting under your skin, too.

“Well, I guess they are if you’re here,” you said, crossing your arms, “and named a prefect no less? They’re obviously lowering their standards. I mean, damn, I just met you and I already think you’re a waste of space.”

Ron snorted behind you, not bothering to hold back his laugh. Hermione even had to slap a hand over her mouth not to giggle. Draco’s scowl was venomous, far more intimidating than the one he’d given you in the robe shop when you’d called him an asshole.

“I’d be careful if I were you,” he said, dangerously quiet. His blue-grey eyes drilled into you, and the most conflicting sensation of butterflies and hatred trickled from your stomach to your toes. “Already associating with mudbloods and blood traitors before you even hit the grounds? Pity.”

“Ya know, I really don’t like that word,” you said, sickeningly sweet. Your wand was at Malfoy’s throat before anyone could react, and Draco’s cronies didn’t seem to know what to do. They drew their wands and pointed them at you, looking at each other with confusion.

Draco’s surprised eyes were locked with yours, his chin tilted up and his Adam’s apple bobbing with a nervous gulp. He was doing his best to act tough, but you could tell that he was uneasy. He didn’t know you and didn’t know what you were capable of. He had been banking on a fight with Harry, not on a fight with you.

“Nah ah ah,” you smiled, shaking your head at the drawn wands of the gorillas flanking him. You pointedly twisted the tip of your wand into Draco’s neck a bit – not enough to hurt him, of course, but enough to make your point. “I’ll hex him before you can even open your mouths.”

They exchanged fearful glances again, their wands wavering. Draco didn’t dare turn his head to look at them, but seethed through his teeth, “Lower your wands, you morons!”

They did as they were told, and you smiled at them. “That’s better.”

Harry, Ron, and Hermione didn’t seem to know what to do either, but their faces were filled with gleeful astonishment. Eleanor was staring at you in awe. You didn’t blame her; you weren’t one to get into fights at Ilvermorny. Actually, you’d never been in a fight; you’d never done anything like this. But the adrenaline rushing through your veins was a heady combination when it mixed with the butterflies dancing in your gut.

“You know what my specialty is, Draco?” you asked, tapping your wand teasingly against his Adam’s apple. He gulped again and closed his eyes, breathing loudly through his nose. “I’m pretty good with non-verbal spells. You’d never know what was coming.”

He nervously licked his lips and stared back down at you, eyes filled with distaste, anger, and something else that you couldn’t quite place.

“And non-verbal as in, ya know, making you non-verbal,” you added with a smirk reminiscent of his own, pressing the tip of your wand into the side of his neck. Again, not enough to hurt him, but enough to make his heart race. Yours was racing too.

You had no idea where this surge of confidence was coming from, but you sure as hell weren’t stopping now.

“If I hear that nasty, disgusting word come out of your mouth again… well, you won’t be saying anything for a while,” you whispered sweetly. Draco’s clenched jaw, the vein popping out of his neck, his furrowed brows and gaze so intense that you couldn’t distinguish between the adrenaline and the butterflies anymore – you realized with overwhelming shame just how hot you thought he was.

You hated yourself.

“You’ll regret this,” he whispered venomously, meant for your ears only.

“Will I really?” you asked, tapping the wand against his throat again. He squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for your wordless hex. You stood there for a moment, anticipation building, letting him think that you were going to do it. Then, with a satisfied laugh, you lowered your wand and stepped back. You’d never planned on hexing him, not really, but you wanted him to know that you could, at any moment, without any incantation to warn him.

Draco’s eyes popped open, feeling the sudden loss of contact. He let out a breath that he didn’t realize he was holding, reaching up to rub at his neck. He eyes darted around the compartment, taking in the smug faces of the Gryffindors and the confused faces of his cronies. With intense anger, he realized just how embarrassed he was.

“You better watch your back, Potter!” he spat, pointing a pale finger at Harry’s amused face. “Your luck is running out. He’s got plans for you. He’s going to kill you, just like your boyfriend.”

Harry’s face darkened. Then Draco’s furious eyes darted to you.

“And you,” he whispered spitefully, “you’ll regret ever leaving your backwoods trailer!”

You had no doubt that he meant it, but you hid your apprehension at his words, only raising a skeptical eyebrow at him.

With that, he stomped off down the hall, tailed closely by his muddled friends. You could hear him cursing the whole way.

“Y/N!” Eleanor breathed in disbelief, gripping your arm like a vice and dragging you down to the seat beside her. “What the actual fuck was that? I mean, don’t get me wrong, it was pretty awesome—but what the fuck?!”

“That was bloody brilliant!” Ron exclaimed, practically jumping out of his seat in joy. “Will you marry me?”

You all busted into laughter.

“Malfoy might have it out for you even more than Harry,” Hermione giggled, but there was an air of uneasiness. “Not that I don’t think you’re capable of defending yourself, but are you sure that was clever? He’ll be out for blood now.”

“Come on, Hermione,” Ron rolled his eyes, “you’re ruining the moment!”

“Yeah, take the victory, Hermione,” Harry agreed with a grin.

                     ________________________

Thirty minutes later, Harry grabbed a silvery-looking cloak from his trunk, tucking it under his arms and murmuring something about returning in a few minutes. You didn’t think anything of it, but Ron and Hermione seemed a bit skeptical and irritated by the action.

The rest of the train ride was peppered with questions about Hogwarts and Ilvermorny, funny quips about what happened with Malfoy, and a delicious helping of sweets from the friendly trolley witch. Harry never returned.

You hadn’t realized just how much time had passed when Hermione stood up and stretched, instructing Ron to change into his robes. They needed to go back to the prefect carriage toward the front of the train before arrival, she explained. She recommended that you and Eleanor change into your school robes as well.

The Hogwarts Express pulled into a small wizarding village called Hogsmeade at dark, just as you finished adjusting your new robes and helping Eleanor fix her hair. You could hear the chuga-chuga of the wheels slow, and the train lurch as it came to a full stop. Compartment doors were banging open and students were talking, laughing, and running down the hallways as they trickled out of the train.

You and Eleanor grabbed your luggage, stuffed your wands into the pocket of your robes, and set out into the night. The enormous castle loomed before you, quite visible from the village. The lit windows winked at you against the backdrop of the inky night sky.

“It’s Hogwarts,” Eleanor whispered in awe.

You were content.

[ Read Part 4 here ]

[lynnsaundersfanfic]

Grounded, Chapter 10: Dreams

A Coffee House Fic inspired by a prompt from awesomegreentie.

We started off with a T rating, but who are we kidding here? It’s me. So, the rating has been moved up to M at Chapter 5.

Chapters in Order:  Introductions - Invitation - Stroll - Alchemy - Dayspring - Distraction - Lost - Firelight - Monday - Dreams

Or, read it on fanfiction.net here.

Grounded  |  Chapter Ten: Dreams  |  by Lynn Saunders

The Tuesday before Christmas dawns cold and grey, and John watches the sunrise as he sits before the shop’s hearth with his morning tea, struggling a bit to meet the day. William looks surprised to find him there quite so early after closing so late the evening before, but he doesn’t comment on the matter. They really must hire someone else on, and soon.

Anna’s over a week gone, and John has scarcely slept since she’s been away. He trudges home late in the evenings, tie askew, and sinks onto the couch in his sparsely furnished flat to doze for a few hours before rising early to do it all over again. His split with Vera did not leave him with much in the way of quality furnishings, and what little he did take with him has mostly been used to lend a personal touch to the tasteful rusticity of the coffee house. The little shop is the first thing he’s truly been able to make all his own. But his apartment feels cold, the freshly painted walls stark and bare, and it’s not yet truly a home for him. It’s pale and blank, a new slate that he hasn't yet gotten around to writing on - not like Anna’s flat, which is warm and cheerful and utterly her.

He’s a bit surprised to find that it’s difficult to sleep without Anna snugged in safely against him. He craves her scent and the warm press of her body in the dark. He tosses and turns in the night, restless and brooding. But when sleep does finally find him, he dreams of a faerie with golden hair, her eyes blue as the sea. She awaits him eagerly in a small hothouse in mid-winter, dressed all in white. In the dream, their meetings are secret, and her love for him is certain. This morning, the taste of the dream maiden’s lips had lingered on his even after he awoke feverish and shaky, lost between worlds for a moment and struggling to remember which was real.

The church bell down the street chimes out the hour, and John rises and stretches. He retrieves his mobile from the mantle and sends Anna a photo of the blazing fire, then tucks the phone into his pocket with a small smile. He doesn’t expect her home for a few days yet, but it’s safe to say she hasn’t forgotten him. Two evenings ago, their goodnight phone call had ended with her breathlessly sighing his name.

I was thinking of the other night, he’d said. Of having you against the door.

He’s never been brave enough to give voice to such delicious thoughts before, never had someone so eager to listen. Her response to his secret whispers in the dark was the definition of unforgettable.

He finishes his tea with a smirk, then readies for the day, tying on an apron and washing his hands. He surveys the stock of pastries and resolves to make more fresh cinnamon buns, but it will have to wait until the morning rush dies down. For the next two hours, the bells on the front door jangle consistently.

Business is good. More than good. He feels utterly blessed to have this place, but beyond that he feels a sense of deep pride in his work. Is this what it’s like to love what you do? He realizes with a start that this is the first path he’s truly chosen for himself, rather than one he pursued out of habit, pressure, or obligation. In his old life, he might be tempted to focus on all the work that still looms ahead, or to wait for the other shoe to drop. He would’ve been too hesitant to venture into business ownership, too pessimistic. But more than anything else, being wounded showed him just how fleeting life is. That’s what made him put down the bottle and start living life again. And Anna? He certainly would’ve never imagined that he deserved the company of someone this lovely or, for that matter, someone this kind. Finally, he’s starting to believe.

Anna dreams of John in a different time. They sit at a long table in a bustling room she doesn’t quite recognize, yet she somehow knows it all the same. The room smells of coffee and warm, brown bread. Breakfast china rattles over bits of conversation. Beside her, John is clean-shaven and polished and proper. This image of him stands in stark contrast to what she knows he is capable of in the dark. He gives her a furtive glance, and she attempts to hide her flush behind her teacup. Her delicate wedding band is hidden safely away beneath her frock, nestled against her breastbone on a simple gold chain. Her cup clinks into its saucer, and she brings a hand up to absently trace the outline of the ring through the fabric of her dress. No one can know, not yet. John’s leg presses against hers beneath the table, out of view of the others.

The others?

But the room is gone now, replaced with the glow of a fire and the slip of fine linens against her bare skin. John’s thick fingers glide along her back as she rests, snugged against his chest. She’s long been sated, and now sleep calls. As her eyes drift shut, her mind flashes on the rustling of willow fronds and the taste of fresh cider, of mistletoe on the arch of an old oak door, of the earthy smell of a conservatory in midwinter and the sound of pottery shattering in the dark.

The company car rocks gently as it pulls onto Anna’s street, and her eyes blink open. Her mind fumbles for the thread of that intriguing dream, but the more she reaches for those memories, the further they slip away. John in an old-fashioned waistcoat and sleeves, she thinks with a grin. Something about a greenhouse… and then a feeling - one of bittersweet, quiet, and steadfast love. It is safe and warm, and… familiar? Anna shakes her head with a confused sigh.

The homes on Anna’s street are cheerful, dotted with wreaths and holiday lights. In the west, the sky is painted purple and crimson in the waning daylight. The car pulls to a stop at her door, and she draws the edges of her coat closed before stepping out into the nipping winter air. She’s so looking forward to being in her own flat and her own bed, to seeing her grumpy old three-legged cat… and her hot barista.

She checks her mobile - still no service. Ah, well. When she’d spoken briefly with John last evening, her plans called for staying in London at least another day or two. However, this morning’s presentation had gone surprisingly well, and when Mary spoke of sending Anna home ahead of schedule, she’d jumped at the chance.

The driver hurries around to help her with her bags, and she tips him generously before climbing the short flight of stairs to her apartment. Even with both bags in hand, Anna unlocks the door to her flat with practiced ease. Castle comes running and leaps onto the kitchen counter with a delighted chirp. She scritches him and shakes some crunchies into his bowl.

Tacked to the fridge is a note from Gwen.

I continue to be Castle’s favorite person to torment. The beggar knocked the treat bag off of the counter and ate half. He then vomited in the hall and stared haughtily as I cleaned it up.

XO, G

Castle blinks innocently from the kitchen counter, and Anna gives him a disapproving look. She makes a mental note to take her friend for drinks ASAP to make up for it.

Gwen has left the week’s mail on the countertop, and Anna sorts the contents quickly while she waits for the shower to run hot. She happily sheds her travel clothes and steps under the spray with a relieved sigh, washing the muck of the day away. Oh, but there’s so much to do. She needs to go for groceries and work on the laundry, to put the finishing touches on a project before the firm closes for the holidays. But as she lingers in the steam of the shower, allowing the heat to sink into the delicate muscles of her neck and shoulders, she finds it impossible to care about those mundane tasks. Her mind drifts instead.

She thinks of last week, of John’s long fingers moving between her thighs, patiently coaxing her pleasure. She had melted into his embrace, her slick back pressed to his front, her head lolled against his chest. He had turned her then, lifting her solidly against the chilly shower tile and marking her neck with his lips as he pushed into her. His strong arms held her fast while she sighed his name and dug her fingernails into his shoulders. His teeth had trailed behind her ear just so. She reaches lazily up to press her fingertips to the spot, daydreaming until the water begins to cool.

Yes, all the trappings of everyday life can wait. She has a very particular craving that only one thing can satisfy.

John rushes to open the shop’s door ahead of William, who is carefully balancing three full pastry boxes, their largest order of the day. He steps out to meet the chill of the December evening, and William follows, passing gingerly through the doorway. They work together to arrange the pastry boxes safely in the floorboards of the waiting car.

The customer is Beatrice, one of John’s mother’s friends from church, and she reaches up to pat his arm affectionately. “Thank you, Dear.”

He smiles down at her. “I hope you enjoy them.”

“Oh, the kids will love them!”

She waves to William as he ducks back through the shop’s front door. The neon ‘open’ sign blinks out shortly afterward, and they watch for a moment as William goes about closing duties without having to be asked.

“He’s a hard worker,” John says. “Thank you for sending him my way.”

“Oh, yes, I’ve known his family for ages, and of course with his mother’s passing he needed something closer to home for a while. He’s all his dad has left now.” She shakes her head sadly. “But, I’m so happy you two get on so well. I hear there was a less pleasant fellow working here who has recently moved on.”

John laughs. “Yes, but that’s fine by me. Better the two of us work harder than have a third who rocks the boat. But if you know of anyone else who needs steady work, please send them my way.”

She thinks for a moment. “I may have just the young lady in mind. She’s young and a bit new to church, but she seems reliable. She was such a help with the bake sale.”

He draws a card from the breast pocket of his button-front shirt. “Please have her come by. William and I are managing, but barely. As it is, he needs a large bonus… and a holiday.”

She chuckles, then takes a conspiratorial step closer. “Now, let me hear all about this Anna. Margaret tells me you two are quite the item.”

John gives a somewhat embarrassed chuckle. His mother definitely cannot be prevailed upon to keep any secrets. “Yes, I suppose we are.”

“You suppose?” She tsks with mock disapproval. “Well don’t you be shy. Bring her ‘round to see us for tea soon.”

He gives a vague promise, and John waves as Beatrice pulls away from the curb. As the taillights fade in the distance, he takes a moment to stand still, to close his eyes and simply breathe in the icy air. There’s been no new snow today, but there’s still a satisfying icy crunch underfoot, and he remembers his first stroll home with Anna, the first brush of her lips against his cheek. That was only two weeks ago, yet somehow this thing between them feels both ancient and new.

It’s a bit odd that he hasn’t heard from her today, and it dawns on him that he’s not been the least bit concerned about what that uncharacteristic lack of contact means for their burgeoning relationship. In the past, he’s had what Vera would have called a jealous streak. But underneath that superficial explanation was truly only worry, a deep-seated fear that he won’t measure up, that he’s undeserving. But he feels none of that with Anna. Everything between them has come so naturally.

He takes one more moment to enjoy the quiet solitude of the winter evening, then turns to help William close up for the night. But he doesn’t quite reach the door. His breath is caught in his throat, and for a moment he stops and stares, blinking in delighted disbelief. Anna. The streetlamps catch her golden hair even through the frozen haze of the December evening. She’s supposed to be miles away, yet here she is on his street instead, making her way toward him with a very particular look in her eye. He sees warmth reflected there, mischief, and an intoxicating, velvety undercurrent of desire. He catches her up in an embrace, and she giggles as he lifts her off of her feet. God, he wants so badly to be the one who inspires that sound from now on. He breathes her in, feels the thrill of it deep in his chest, then remembers himself and returns her gently to the ground.

“Why didn’t you say you were coming?” he asks with a grin.

“I didn’t know until today.” Her eyes dance as she reaches up to straighten his tie. “That, and my mobile has been out of service all afternoon. But… I’ve brought you something that may make up for it.”

At his quizzical look, she reaches into her coat pocket and brings out a sprig of mistletoe, twirling it in her fingers for a moment, raising an eyebrow. He tugs her close in response, kissing her gently in the arch of the shop doorway until she begins to shiver in his arms. Later, as he sifts his fingers through her hair in her bedroom in the dark, she’ll tell him she wasn’t cold, not exactly. It’s the intensity of his touch that’s making her tremble. But he doesn’t know that now, and he ushers her quickly into the cheerful warmth of the coffee house. Muted sounds from the kitchen radio filter down the hall, and he can hear the clinking of silverware as William washes the dishes. He presses another soft kiss to her lips before locking the door and pulling the shades in turn.

“I need to-” he begins, but she places a gentle hand on his chest with a nod.

“Finish your work.” She smiles up at him. “I’ll still be here.”

He brings the back of her hand to his lips for a moment, then turns to join William in the kitchen. Together, the men make quick work of the evening chores. Soon the dishes are dried and the countertops gleam once more. William finishes the mopping while John reviews the checklist for tomorrow, smiling at the sheer volume of holiday orders.

As he pulls on his coat to leave, William glances down the hall toward Anna, then gives John a nod of decided approval. “It’s good to see you happy, Mr. Bates.”

John clears his throat a bit self-consciously, but he’s touched. “I think I am, truly… for the first time in a long while.” He pauses just a moment before adding, “now, run on home. We’ve another early day tomorrow.”

“You two don’t stay up too late,” William says with a wink as he pulls his cap down snug over his brow and disappears through the shop’s rear door.

John only laughs and shakes his head in response.

When he returns to the front room with a cup of cocoa to share, Anna is warming herself by the waning coals of the banked fire. The shop lights are low, and the sight of her silhouetted in the amber glow of the stone fireplace tugs at a quiet, yearning place deep within him. Anna just feels so… familiar, his mind echoes. It’s as if they’ve spent countless evenings sharing a hearth and a bed, perhaps across times and places he will never know or understand, but always - always - with the same indescribable current arcing between them.

She smiles up at him as he passes her the mug, and he eases onto the sofa, drawing her near. She takes a sip and gives a satisfied hum that makes the fine hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. They watch the embers pop and spark for a moment as the kitchen radio plays on in the distance.

“How was London?” He presses a kiss to her temple.

“Good, actually.” She takes another sip of cocoa and passes him the mug. “Well, more than good, I think. It might mean a promotion.”

“Well done!” He squeezes her hand with genuine affection and pride, then adds cheekily, “Will you have a corner office, then?”

“No…” She grins up at him. “And nothing’s decided yet, but… on that topic, there is a favor I need to ask you.”

“Oh yes?”

“You see, there’s this company holiday party. Fancy dress and all that, and I’ll be needing a date…”

“Dancing and cocktails and a suit?”

“Well, probably not dancing… but the rest of it, yes.”

“No dancing? Pity, that.”

“I expect you’ll be relieved.” She taps his chest playfully with the back of her hand, and he realizes she thinks he’s joking.

He imagines Anna in a low-cut gown, his fingers gliding along the curve of her back as they savor the anonymity of a darkened dance floor. “Oh, I wouldn’t say that.”

John smiles conspiratorially and moves their shared mug to the safety of the little coffee table. He rises carefully, then pulls Anna gently to her feet. She smiles shyly at him as he takes her hand and leads her down the shop’s hallway in the dark. The familiar rooms are bathed in shadows, and she clings to his hand like a lifeline. In the kitchen, he pauses to adjust the volume on the little radio, filling the room with the mellow, rolling notes of a jazz piano.

“Come here,” he says, his voice rough and low.

She giggles as he pulls her easily into his embrace, and they sway together in the dark, his right hand perfectly fitted to the small of her back. Thank goodness for heels, she thinks dreamily. Moving together this way, she’s just tall enough to rest her forehead against his broad chest. He tucks her hair behind her ear and tips her chin up to meet him, stooping to graze her lips with his. His large hands slide beneath the hem of her sweater, blazing a path up the curve of her spine. She hums happily, and she feels his answering smile against her temple.

She finds the quiet confidence in his touch intoxicating. She’s enamored with the pleasing stoutness of his body, the thickness of his chest and shoulders, the way he gazes at her so intently as they move together. She’s never been this easily turned on, this revved up. She’s fallen hard and fast, no question, but this thought doesn’t alarm her. Instead, she feels emboldened by her desire. When she rises on tiptoe to kiss him, he tastes not just of cinnamon and chocolate, but of something deeper and richer, a comforting memory she cannot place. And as the song begins to fade, they hold fast to one another, lighting a fire between them as they dance together in the dark.

Author’s notes:

I’ve not written in a long while. I worry it shows. Thank you for being patient while I knock the rust off.

Anna and Bates dance to Turn Me On by Nora Jones.

Thanks to @awesomegreentie and @gelana78 for quick-beta!

[ravenbrenna09]

Jij Verliest Teaser - Press Start

As mentioned previously, here is my teaser for Jij Verliest, my story about Twitch Streamer Robbe. I’m pretty bad about giving opening comments for stuff like this, but all of the information regarding Jij Verliest will be linked below if you want to check out the information there. 

While I originally had the idea for this ages ago, I was unsure if I was going to actually write it because the rest of the story will be in Robbe’s POV. But, when I decided that I wanted to do a teaser, I felt like this was the only way that I could genuinely do it without giving you pieces that I’ve already written. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy this teaser and I can’t wait to show you this incredible journey that we’re going to go on. 

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Dinsdag 17:45

There was a little bar down the street from the apartment complex that the group of them always seemed to find their way to at the end of the week. There wasn’t anything fancy about it, no pounding music or neon lights, and only a handful of signatures drinks that changed with each month and a menu full of delicious food. There were a handful of televisions on the walls and older pictures that had to have been taken eighty years ago. There was a jukebox that was shoved in the corner that would play every song imaginable, recycling through each genre with a high frequency. The bar was family-run and operated, passed down from father-to-son and then father-to-daughter, and had managed to retain the homely vibe that had been since it had originally opened years ago. 

Eagerly stepping out of the harsh summer sun, Sander Driesen pushed back the strands of his hair that had stuck to his forehead. Even as the sudden burst of air-conditioning cooled his entire body, the stickiness of the sweat from his walk still pinned his black shirt to his skin. Thankfully, he had chosen to wear his sneakers instead of his Doc Martens, or else he would’ve been dying. 

Behind the bar, the afternoon bartender, and the owner, Lilly, barely glanced up from her job counting down the drawer to glance over at him with one raised eyebrow at his attire. Yeah, he thought, a black t-shirt and black denim jeans and a leather jacket firmly in his grasp (which he only wore at work because his boss liked to keep the tattoo parlor on the verge of an ice age) was probably not the best idea for making the trek to the bar. But, Sander had forgotten his metro card in the apartment this morning… so he was forced to walk the entire way or wait for Senne and likely get put to work in the meantime.

The extra money would’ve been nice and Sander loved what he did. But, he had spent the majority of the afternoon working on a rather large dragonfly piece on a girl’s shoulder. And, it was a detailed and intricate design that had been designed by her mother and she wanted it to come out perfect. Sander understood the need (he had a quote on his rib that his mother used to say) and so, he knew that the task required his full attention, or else he feared that he would ruin the sentimental tattoo. 

But, Sander had managed to complete it with only a few minutes over his shift. When the girl had seen it with the help of well-placed mirrors. At the sight of it, the girl had started tearing up and tackled Sander on the spot, thanking him unintelligibly into his shoulder. But, the amount of effort that it took to complete the tattoo with the meticulous focus that it required like one of Sander’s favorite pieces. And, he was in desperate need of a glass of ice-cold beer and relaxing night out with his friends.

Even if he had to walk in the summer heat to get there. 

Smiling weakly at Lilly, he raised his hand and extended his pinky upward. As she counted the rest of the money, Lilly nodded her head in his direction as he headed to the back of the bar to one of the bar tables that stood there. His table of choice stood near the jukebox and it was the one that they tried to get whenever they could manage it. Nearly collapsing in one of it’s four unmatched chairs, Sander let out a sigh, hanging the leather jacket in his hand on the back of it. His skin was flushed and burning beneath his clothes and outside of them. 

“You’re here early.”

As she walked up to the table, Lilly placed a coaster against the table before setting the glass of beer on top of it. Sander grinned over at her appreciatively before taking a sip of the cool drink… and then took a large one as a comforting chill flashed through his body. Lilly tilted her head to the side, her dusty brown ponytail bobbing as she did so. The woman was tall and slender, barely looking a day over thirty despite nearing her fiftieth birthday. Every time that Sander came into the bar, Lilly would always treat him like her son and Sander always welcomed the easy affection.  

Sander shrugged his shoulders. “I walked really fast to get out of the sun.”

“I can tell,” Lilly spoke, materializing a wet rag out of nowhere. She pressed the damp towel against his forehead. The rag was cool to the touch like it had just been submerged in a bucket of ice-cold water. A slight moan slipped past Sander’s lips as he curled like a cat in the direction of the cool rag. The woman let out a laugh, practically half a snort. “Here, you can have it. I have more rags behind the bar.”

Sander eagerly swiped it from her hands, wiping the sweat off his arm covered in tattoos before moving to the other which was completely bare. “Thanks, Lil.”

The front door let out a ring signaling that there was a new person had entered the bar on the sunny Tuesday afternoon. “I’ll be right there!” she called as she briefly took the towel back. She folded it in her hands before placing it against the back of Sander’s neck. Sander let out a groan of thanks, placing his head against the cool wood of the desk, relishing the cold chill of the table in comparison to his flushed forehead. “That should help you cool off a little bit faster. Let me know if it needs to be sprayed with cold water again.” 

“Thank you.”

Lilly chuckled, moving away from him and patting his shoulder. 

Despite the low hum of the televisions, each of which likely had a different station on, Sander could hear the woman talking to someone about what they wanted and the patron’s quiet voice. With each passing second that he spent in the bar, Sander could feel the flush on his body, the by-product from the heat and his walk, and further amplified by his darker aesthetic, return slowly back to the temperature around him. Lilly always kept the bar cool, going lower whenever she expected there to be more people to be in the enclosed space at night, and Sander had never been more thankful for her planning than he was now. 

Without warning, the jukebox kicked on. Because it was almost an arm’s length away, he could pinpoint the metallic hum above the commotion of the bar, the brief pause of energy kicking through the machine, waking it up, and roaring it to life. The hum continued on, the interface of the machine trying to figure out what song to play, and then, finally, the opening chords began to play. The music, the notes, the lyrics washed over him like a tidal wave, crashing over him and wrapping him in a blanket of security, even as his body continued to return down to a normal temperature.

David Bowie. 

Rebel, Rebel.

On instinct, his body reacted to the song. He sat up from the table and tilted his head back, letting the chorus wash over him. Rebel, Rebel was one of his favorite songs and David Bowie was his all-time favorite artist so he really couldn’t help himself. His foot tapped against the metal bar of the stool, he drummed his fingers against the edge of the table, and hummed the lyrics under his breath. If it had just been him and Lilly, he might’ve stood on the stools and belted out the lyrics, but she would give him a nasty look if he tried it with customers around. 

Humming out the chorus, Sander opened his eyes. His body had almost completely returned to normal temperature now. The wet rag that Lilly had given him was only succeeding in getting the collar of his shirt soaking wet. Removing the towel, he reached out to grab his beer, the condensation on the chill glass making his fingertips slip a little, as he carefully tried to catch a drink. 

But, as he’s putting the slick glass of beer back down against the coaster, as the main chorus of Rebel, Rebel ripped through his body like an electric shock, he caught sight of the man at the bar and Sander was certain that the breath was ripped out of his lungs.

The man was leaning against the counter, a half-drunk glass of beer in front of him. His brown hair was short but curled naturally at the tips and he had wide brown eyes that were focused on Lilly, listening to her talk with apt attention. His smile tugged up the corners of his lips, a pair of dimples popping up. Even with such a marginal distance between them, Sander could pinpoint the freckles on his cheeks, his artistic eye naturally finding a pattern to them. Lilly said something that ripped a lovely giggle out of him, shaking his head as he took a drink of his beer. 

Fuck, Sander thought, swallowing. He’s beautiful. 

In fact, Sander was certain that he had never seen a man, or anyone, look as beautiful as he did right now. He was sure that no one else in his life could ever possibly compare. If he had his camera, the one that Senne and Amber had gotten him for his birthday in April, he would’ve taken a picture, or two, or twenty, enough to memorize him, to look back on his beauty, to this moment. But, Sander already knew that none of them could ever possibly compare to the real thing, to the man standing there, leaning against the counter, looking like a beautiful angel that had just descended onto the earth. 

Sander felt something stir in his stomach as the man glanced at his watch before taking the final drink of his beer. Lilly said something, probably offering him a drink, but the man shook his head, pulling his wallet out of his pocket to pay. He was going to leave, walk out the door to the bar, and Sander would likely never see him again. Sander needed to meet him, to open his mouth to introduce himself, maybe get out a line or two to make an impression that would allow them to see each other again. He didn’t care that Lilly was there, that she would likely tease him about it the moment that he was gone, but it didn’t matter because he could take the teasing.

All that mattered was that he introduced himself before he walked out the door.

Gripping onto his glass, Sander took the towel off his neck and took another sip of his beer. Then, he shifted in his seat, moving to get up, to walk over to the bar, trying to find something memorable to say. But, the front door opened, the bell sounded throughout the bar, and Sander turned to see a man walking into the bar with a duffle bag over his shoulder. The beautiful man turned, taking a step to the door, and the new one met him halfway, grinning down at him, “Here’s where you went off to.” 

“Sorry,” the beautiful man managed before the new one ducked down to press a kiss against his lips. It was a quick and fleeting kiss, but Sander felt something stab into his chest and that the seconds dragged on. Trying his best to not seem disappointed, he shifted back into his seat and simply took another drink to stop himself from going over there. However, he couldn’t turn his head away, his eyes trained on the smaller of the two. “I know that you and Leon have an important trial coming up. I didn’t want to get you in trouble if I heard critical details about your strategy.” 

“It’s okay,” the man spoke, grinning down at him. Then, he nodded towards the door, reaching out to take the beautiful boy’s hand. “Come on. We’ve got to get home to your mom’s place for your party or else Jens might wring my neck in for stealing you away from all your friends celebrating.” 

“I certainly wouldn’t mind it,” the smaller one remarked. His boyfriend grinned down at him. “He knows how much I don’t like surprise parties.” But, still, he turned towards Lilly, smiling over at her. “Thanks for the beer and the talk. I hope everything goes well with your daughter’s schooling. I’m sure she’ll do great.”

The bartender smiled over at them, already cleaning the glass of beer that he had used. “Anything for the road for you two?”

“No, we’re good. Thank you though. We aren’t going far,” his boyfriend spoke. Wrapping an arm around the beautiful man’s shoulder, he tugged him in the direction of the door, pushing it open with his duffle bag. Lilly sent them a “good day”, but it was muffled as Sander found his eyes trained on the beautiful man with his bright grin that was pointed at his boyfriend. The man easily fell into his embrace, wrapping an arm around him, and let himself be dragged out of the bar. 

The door of the bar slammed shut, triggering the bell again, and Rebel, Rebel abruptly ended to his right, shifting to a sad song that made Sander want to shovel quarters in the machine until he found a song that would summon the man back again. “Are you feeling any better?” Lilly questioned, taking the empty glass from his fingertips and replacing it with a full glass. 

The answer was no, but his body temperature had returned to normal.

In fact, with the guy out of the bar and out of sight, dragged away by his boyfriend, and Sander didn’t even get the chance to put a name to a face that was that beautiful, he felt strangely cold. Despite the summer heat outside and the warm burst of hot air that had flooded when the door had opened, his body shivered almost violently and his stomach churned. The two of them had looked happy and in love… besides, maybe it was for the best that Sander didn’t get his name. 

“Yes, I am,” Sander spoke, realizing that he hadn’t responded to Lilly’s question. “My body temperature has now completely returned to normal.” Lilly chuckled. Sander wanted to put the beautiful guy and his boyfriend out of his mind, move on because he knew that he would never see them again. But, somehow, his mouth was opening and he was asking, “Who was that guy?” 

“I don’t know,” Lilly remarked, reaching out to grab the towel from the table. Sander hid his disappointment by taking a drink of his new beer. “He had just come in to have a drink while waiting for his boyfriend to get off work. Apparently, he works at a law firm near here.” She paused, raising an eyebrow. “Why?” 

“Just curious,” Sander remarked, grinning over at her. “Generally, the only people who come in here are regulars.” 

Lilly rolled her eyes and shoved his shoulder before moving back to the bar again. As she moved to continue counting the drawer, Sander glanced at the clock that was nestled between two pictures. It was past 18:00 now which meant that Lilly’s relief would be here any minute. And, his mind reminded him, his roommates would be here any minute now. 

The door opened, the bell rung, and Sander looked, hoping it was the beautiful man once again. But, it was Noor, dressed in a long-sleeve, blue velvet dress that went to her mid-thigh. As the door slammed close, she grinned over at Lilly before moving to Sander. She threw her arms around his neck in a hug before pushing herself up on the seat beside him. “Hey, how was your day? I came in to get a late lunch with you, but Emilie said that you were really busy with a customer. Did you get her piece done?”

“Yeah,” Sander replied. “I finally managed to get it done. Where’s Senne? Wasn’t he picking you up today?”

“Yeah, he’s still a little behind me,” Noor remarked, smiling over at him. “He ran into someone that he knew on our walk here and stopped to talk to them because it had been a while. But, it’s too hot outside and I wanted to get inside.” Noor gestured in the direction of Sander’s black outfit. “Something that I’m sure that you know a lot about.” 

“While this is my normal aesthetic, you know that I would be wearing shorts if my boss didn’t require us to wear jeans,” Sander remarked. Noor smirked over at him, shaking her head. “When are you coming in to get that tattoo that you wanted to honor your grandma? You know that I will do it if you come in.”

“Well, you aren’t working on weekends lately and I do have my own job, you know?” Noor remarked, raising an eyebrow. Sander nodded his head. She had a point. His boss had stopped scheduling him on weekends as of late. “And, you’re the only one in that tattoo shop that I would trust to do something this important to me.” Noor squinted her eyes, looking at him with a curious expression “Are you okay?”

“Hmm?”

“I don’t know,” Noor spoke. “You seem a bit off.”

The image of the beautiful man, the one whose name that he didn’t get the chance to know, flashed in his mind and his stomach gave a painful squeeze. But, Sander nodded his head to ease Noor’s worry, smiling over at his best friend and saying, “Yeah, I’m fine. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“I’m always going to worry about you.”

“Yeah, Sander,” Senne spoke, appearing to his left. The brunet had two glasses of beer balancing in one hand and Noor’s favorite drink in the other. The girl took her drink with a thankful smile and Senne practically thrust one of the beer glasses in Sander’s. Now that he wasn’t doing a balancing act, he wrapped an arm around his neck and placed a kiss against Sander’s cheek. “How was work?”

“Good. You?” Sander questioned as Senne moved to sit in one of the remaining chairs. As Senne launched into a tale about what happened at work, Sander tried his best to listen. However, his mind kept conjuring images of the beautiful man against the bar. What if Sander had talked to him before he left? What if his boyfriend never showed? What if he was there to see him? Internally shaking the thought from his head, there was no use in trying to imagine another time where things were a little bit different.

It was highly likely that Sander would never see him again.

[authorialarcanist]

Gracidea Blossom Chapter 8: The Wind and the Rain

(Pokémon Diamond, Pearl, & Platinum x Little Busters!)

Mirror Links: AO3, Pokécommunity, Spacebattles

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Previous - Next

Spoiler Warning: Starting this chapter, Gracidea Blossom will contain spoilers for Komari’s Route of Little Busters! Since this is the first such spoiler point, I’ll reiterate my general policy: I’ll be using primarily backstory spoilers and trying to leave elements of the route that people can still enjoy even if they read this story first, and marking with an author’s note like this one before any chapter that firstintroduces spoilers from that route, while considering backstory information introduced in that route fair game for the rest of the story afterwards.

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The day after Rin started her training, Riki finds himself aimlessly wandering the streets of Jubilife. With Masato and Kengo occupied with preparing Rin for her Gym Challenge, and Kyousuke busy at Jubilife TV, Riki’s been left largely to his own devices whenever he’s not being dragged into the training himself.

The gray sky seems to press down on him as he walks. Ever since this journey started, something’s felt subtly off. Masato and Kengo always pushing their training. Kyousuke’s vague questions. As much as Riki wants to treat everything as just more of the silly games the Little Busters play together, he can’t shake the feeling that something is moving. Dragging Masato, Kengo, and Rin into these strange impetuses, and threatening to leave him behind.

Perhaps that’s why his feet take him back to the park where he and Rin had battled the previous day. Sitting with his Pokémon amidst the faded grass, he can at least feel a little less alone.

After letting Terra and Sly out of their Pokéballs, Riki leans forward to spritz his Turtwig down with a spray bottle. The soil on its head and back drinks the water up greedily, and its sprout seems to stand a little straighter. Riki scratches the Turtwig lightly under its chin.

“I guess you were getting thirsty? Alright, then. Here. Let’s get you something to eat, as well.”

He pours out some Pokémon food into a couple of bowls - one for Terra, one for Sly - and lies back on the grass while he waits for them to eat. A chilly breeze rustles his clothes and the grass beneath him. Temperatures in Sinnoh already trend cool, and with the rain cooling the city down even further, Riki is glad to have worn layers today. Still, it’s peaceful, and he just lies there for a few minutes with his eyes closed, listening to the sound of the wind.

Eventually, the sounds of crunching stop, and his Pokémon cuddle up next to him. Terra settles down on his left right by his ribs, while Sly sits by his right ear.

But…

Soon, the calm only makes Riki feel lonelier. Normally, by now he’d have been jarred back to reality by Masato and Kengo’s roughhousing, or Rin shouting at one of them, or Kyousuke coming up with some sort of game. The more time he spends alone like this, the more his thoughts drift back to the days after his parents died.

Before he can go any further, Riki pushes himself to his feet. Hopefully, doing something will be enough to distract him. But what? He’s here because he didn’t have anywhere to go.

For want of a better option, Riki beckons his Pokémon to walk with him along the wavy stone path circling the park. At least, moving should be better than not. It doesn’t do a lot… but he still starts to feel just a little better.

And then—

“YOUUUUUUUU!”

Riki’s melancholy thoughts are blown away in an instant, replaced by confusion under the sudden sonic assault. Bracing himself, he pushes forward to confront the figure responsible.

“Wait, you’re the old man from yesterday!”

“WHO’S AN OLD MAAAAAAAAAAN!?” The uproar doubles in strength.

However, Riki simply finds his frustration building. “By all accounts, you are! You shouldn’t shout at people for simply stating what’s true.”

“…Hmph.” The man quiets down at that. “At least you have some spine. That’s more than I expected, from your performance yesterday.” He fixes Riki with a flat stare.

“Eh?” Riki glares back. “What do you mean by that?”

“Simple. Kid, your battling was atrocious. What in the world possessed you not to have your Pokémon use Rock Throw at the end there? You might have been able to at least KO that girl’s cat.”

“Ah... I mean, Lennon was already getting weak. I didn’t want to hit him with an effective attack if it might injure him too badly!”

The old man fixes Riki with a flat stare. “Oh? So you know what that Pokémon can take better than it and its trainer combined?”

“I...” Riki wavers, but frustration wins out. “Why do you even care? It’s clearly not for my friend’s sake, given how you chased her away out of nowhere.”

“Bah. This and that have nothing to do with each other.” He glares at Riki. “You’ve clearly got some amount of guts, or you wouldn’t be talking back to me like this. So I just want to figure out what you’re doing insulting your Pokémon and your opponent by refusing to show them!”

“I told you. I don’t want to hurt my friend’s Pokémon.”

“Then I guess there’s nothing for it, then.” The man smirks as the trap snaps shut. “If you’re worried about being able to judge if a Pokémon will get hurt, you’ve just got to get a feel for it through experience!”

“…Seriously?” Riki suppresses a groan. Why does he always get dragged into these things?

“Alright then, kid! I, Kojirou, will teach you how to put your all into a battle!” He rolls a Pokéball out of the sleeve of his robe, and throws it. “Go, Whismur!”

What appears is a round pink mammal, around two feet in height. The Whismur has cross-shaped eyes and two nubby arms. Its feet are yellow-tipped, as are the long, curved rabbit ears jutting up from the top of its body. Each ear canal is positioned just in front of the base of its ear, so that the ears can bend down to act as plugs. “I’ll tell you what. If you beat just this one Pokémon, I’ll promise not to bother you again. I’ll even go apologize to that other kid you were with! How’s that sound?”

Riki sighs as he sends his Bonsly out to battle and tells it to use Rock Throw. A rock type against a normal type… with Sly’s defenses, wearing his opponent down shouldn’t be too hard. “Do you not have better things to do than hang around in this park harassing people about Pokémon battles?”

“Uproar!” At Kojirou’s command, the Whismur stretches its mouth wide open and lets out an ear-splitting cry. Sly stops in its tracks, vibrating a little from the sheer volume of the sound buffeting it. “What was that, kid? I couldn’t hear you!”

“Ugh… Sly, use Rock Throw again!” Riki grimaces as his Bonly sends a chunk of rock flying right into its opponent’s face, briefly cutting off the piercing wail. “I said, isn’t there anything else you should be doing right now? Don’t you have friends or family to spend time with, or something?”

“Hmph.” Kojirou brings his arms together so that his sleeves cover both hands. “Kid, you were right about one thing - I’m old. when you get to my age, you’re not gonna have friends around for much longer. As for family… Well, I’ve decided to live on my own. I don’t plan on inconveniencing them when I die, got that?”

“What - that’s horrible!” Even as the Whismur resumes making an uproar, Sly slowly advances towards it, its rocky defenses holding up well against the Normal-type attacks. It may be a little slow, but if things keep up as is, Riki’s Pokémon will be the one winning the battle of attrition. “If you’ve still got family, then you should go to them! I’m sure they want to see you!”

“Here’s some advice, kid: don’t meddle in situations you don’t understand!” Kojirou’s shout corresponds with a particularly loud blast of sound from his Pokémon as its uproar reaches a peak. Sly has to stop moving again from the sheer intensity, but it still holds firm. “And I’ll give you a two for one deal, while I’m at it.” Rather than continuing to cry, the Whismur waits for Kojirou’s command: “Don’t underestimate the versatility of Normal types! Whismur, use Water Pulse!”

Rather than sound, what emerges from the Pokémon’s mouth this time is a pulsing ring of water that travels forward with enough speed to knock Riki’s Bonsly off of its feet. Although it rises, Sly seems dizzy from the impact, and its next Rock Throw misses the target before a second pulse takes it down.

“If you’re so concerned about not holding back, then why didn’t you use that from the start?”

“Simple,” Kojirou responds. “I’m trying to teach you something. If I ended the battle from the start, I wouldn’t be able to judge how you fight.”

“I didn’t ask for that.” As Riki calls his Bonsly back to its Pokéball, Terra steps forward as though to say the battle isn’t over yet.

“Not much respect for the lessons of your elders, huh?”

“Not when those lessons amount to ‘scream at random passers-by so they’ll leave you alone’.” The battle pauses as Riki and Kojirou stare each other down, neither making the next move. Then, the old man laughs.

“Hah! Fair enough, kid! But tell me - what’re you gonna do next? How do you plan to win this?”

“I…” Riki glances at his Pokédex, checking what TMs are known to work on Whismur. Yeah… He thought so. “…I don’t. Terra, return!” Just as the turtle is about to charge its opponent, with or without its Trainer’s help, Riki reaches for its Pokéball and calls it back with a beam of red light. “If you’ve used TMs to teach that Pokémon coverage moves, then it probably knows Flamethrower, too. I’m not letting Terra get in close and risk something like that. You win.”

“…” Kojirou sighs. “Fine. Whismur, return.” He recalls his own Pokémon, but fixes Riki with a serious look. “Kid… if you’re not willing to take a chance now and then, you’re never gonna grow stronger.”

“Getting stronger…” Riki looks away. “I don’t understand why everybody keeps talking about that.”

“It’s not physical strength I’m talking about here. It’s mental. Spiritual. If you want to find happiness in life, you need to grow enough to go look for it.”

“I…” Riki shakes his head. “I’ve got what I’m looking for right here, already. I have my friends. That’s enough.” He turns to walk away. He’s done here.

Kojirou doesn’t follow him. Before he’s out of earshot, though, he gives Riki one last parting remark. “…Everything changes, kid. There’s not a single thing in life that ever stays the same. If you try to hide from that, you’ll earn nothing but regret.”

———

Once again, Riki finds himself walking through the city, caught between the gray of the streets and the gray of the sky, with no destination in mind. He shakes Kojirou’s words out of his head.

There’s nothing wrong with wishing for tomorrow to always be the same as yesterday.

He knows he should return to the Pokémon Center, so that they can start getting Sly back to full health. But… his Pokémon is safely in stasis within its ball, and he doesn’t feel like being roped into whatever training scheme Rin’s working through now.

“Hm?” For a moment, the monotony of the city is broken. Streetlights flicker on, illuminating something unusual just as it disappears around a corner. Riki rushes ahead, and turns to see a lone Pokémon floating down the road ahead of him.

It looks like a meteor hovering in place, with a spherical body covered in a cracked shell of rock. Around its perimeter are five small craters, arranged like the points of a star. Each crater is ringed with dark brown triangular impressions, and has a rounded white nub poking out from inside of it.

Not recognizing the species, Riki points the camera of his Pokédex at it. The pocket encyclopedia brings up a picture of the Pokémon’s front, which boasts two huge black circles that look almost like eyes. Each has three triangular impressions emerging from its top, and the one on its left also has a smaller brown circle the same color as the triangles overlapping it on the bottom left. Apparently it’s a Minior, a Pokémon native to the Alola region.

Definitely strange for one to be on its own here, then. Lacking anything better to do, Riki follows it.

A few turns later, it leads him to a large, plain, blocky building. A sign hanging above the entrance says “POKÉMON GYM” in faded letters. It’s shockingly plain for the place that’s making Rin act unusual. Evidently, this city’s Leader doesn’t care much about appearances.

The Minior doesn’t go inside, however. Instead, it floats around to the back, where a metal fire escape staircase leads up to the roof of the building. The Minior rises, and disappears over the lip of the roof.

Curious, Riki grips the railing and climbs the fire escape.

He emerges onto a wide, flat rooftop. Riki’s shirt flaps in the wind; it’s much stronger up here than at ground level, and it doesn’t stop. A mesh fence runs along the perimeter, preventing access to the edge of the roof except for an opening for the fire escape. Scattered across the plain in front of Riki are several long metal hangers for drying sheets. They’re rusty from disuse.

Riki advances towards the center of the area, looking around. After a moment, his eyes focus, and he recognizes a figure who had until now blended into the grey of the sky. It’s a girl, sat on the ground with her back leaning on the mesh fence. Several discarded wrappers, carelessly pinned to the ground beside her by a bag and a lunchbox, rustle in the wind. The girl herself is hugging the Minior to her chest, and gazing forward with dull eyes. The eyes are what help Riki place her - she’s the girl from the café the other day.

The girl glances up at him. “Who… are you?”

“Ah—“ Riki falters. “…My name’s Riki. I ran into your Pokémon, and, er… wound up following it. Sorry.”

“Mm.” The girl nods. “I’m Komari. I guess.. You found my secret base, huh?” She puts on a sheepish smile, but the moment of effort behind it betrays her.

“…Sorry. I can go, if you don’t want me here. I won’t tell anyone.”

“…No. It’s fine.” Komari’s face falls again, once it’s clear that the smile didn’t fool Riki. “I don’t have any special claim to this place, or anything.” She closes her eyes, and squeezes her Pokémon tighter for a moment. “I just like it, that’s all.”

Riki makes a sound of understanding. He supposes this place is as good as any other. And… after their encounter the other day, he doesn’t want to leave this girl alone here. “Then, is it alright if I sit here a while? I’ve been struggling to find a place to go to.”

“I won’t stop you.” Komari smiles weakly as Riki sits down. “To be honest… I’d be sad, if my being here kept someone else from enjoying it.”

“Ah.” Riki glances around the open roof. While not a skyscraper, it’s still one of the taller buildings in Jubilife, giving him a wide view of the city beyond the fence’s boundaries. A thought strikes him. “This must be a really nice place when it’s sunny.”

“It is. I’m glad you think so too.” Komari nods along. She continues quietly, more to herself than to Riki. “…I just wish it wouldn’t rain so much lately. I hate the rain…”

A few minutes pass in silence after that. Eventually, Komari pulls something out of her lunchbox. After fiddling with the wrapper, she breaks it in half, and offers one half to Riki. “Belgian Waffle?”

“Huh? Um, sure…?” Riki hesitantly takes the offered sweet.

“…Sorry. You probably think it’s weird.” Komari looks down at her knees. “People are made to feel what others feel, right? When the people around you are happy, you get a little happier too. So, by sharing the things I like, I figure maybe I can make myself feel a little better. You know?”

Riki makes a noise of understanding. It seems like an awfully simple philosophy… and from Komari’s listless behavior, he gets the sense that she’s trying to convince herself as much as him. Still, he takes a bite of the waffle. He’s never been a particular fan of sweets, but… “…It’s good.”

“Mm.” Komari chews on her own half of the waffle. “…Of course, I know it’s not that simple. When I’m sad, that makes the people around me sad, too. And then knowing I’m responsible just makes me feel worse…”

“…It’s kind of a vicious circle, huh.”

“Mhm.”

The wind continues to blow, as Komari carefully pins the new wrapper under her lunchbox with the rest. The conversation slows to a halt. The atmosphere grows more and more awkward, until Riki says something just to break the silence.

“So… that Pokémon. You don’t usually find Minior outside of Alola, right?”

Komari’s grip on the meteor Pokémon tightens. She speaks still without looking back towards Riki. “Mhm. This is Granny. My brother gave her to me, back when… when he went to Alola.”

Riki tilts his head. He’s pretty sure the Pokédex said Minior were genderless… but then, it’s not as though it really matters what Komari calls her Pokémon. “That was nice of him.”

“Yeah, it was. My big brother was always really nice to me.” The girl rests her chin on the Minior’s rocky shell. Her eyes cloud up a little more than usual.

Was? A pit of dread sinks into Riki’s stomach. He wishes he was wrong, but… he’s certain that he wasn’t. “…Oh. I’m sorry… You mean, he’s…?”

“That’s right.” Komari gives a small nod. “My brother… doesn’t exist, anymore. He died eight years ago.”

———

That day…

“Honestly, the hardest part of this whole expedition was just getting Irwin to turn corners. Garchomp don’t exactly have the best handling at top speed.”

As the five of them sat around their table, chatting about the day’s adventures, Riki’s thoughts had started to drift. As the rain hammered down around them, for a moment he imagined the world had shrunk down to only this one café. The low buzz of discussion through the café and the patio faded into the background, the energetic jazz - which suddenly sounded almost desperate - blurring into white noise.

Instead, what his mind focused on was the rain. The faint sounds of thunder in the distance. The flowerpots, looking like fragile markers of this tiny world’s boundary.

The rain made him think of that day, so many years ago, when his own world had been shattered. The storm pouring down on his family, the accident near the lake, and…

Kyousuke nudged Riki gently with his shoulder, pulling him back to reality. Lightly shaking his head clear of the thoughts, Riki gave his friend a small smile.

The band switched to a new song.

A few moments later-

“Wah—!”

The shout drew Riki’s attention to a girl in a beige sweater, windmilling her arms as she lost her balance. Riki rose from his seat, meaning to help her right herself.

Unbalanced from his own sudden movement, he wound up getting dragged down under her instead. The floor rose up to meet him, and he smacked against the burnished wood.

“Ow…” Riki sat up and rubbed his head. Wincing at the pain, he stood and turned to the girl. “You alright?”

“Hm?” The girl rose as well. Blue eyes met Riki’s own. “Oh. Yes, I’m fine. I’m sorry for the trouble…” She bowed and rushed out the door, but Riki barely noticed.

The moment he’d looked her in the eyes, a stabbing pain in his heart had overshadowed any concern over the pain in his head.

Even as his friends sat him back down, Riki’s gaze drifted to the door where the girl had left.

He knew that look. He knew the emptiness in those eyes.

After all…

He’d seen it in the mirror every morning, all those years ago.

[random-french-girl]

pirates? in my bumbleby AU?

A while ago, because of this amazing fanart, me and @grimmfluence talked about a rival pirates AU, and I ended up writing it just for fun. I completely forgot about it, but I just found the google doc again and global quarantine seems like the perfect time to share fics. So, here: have a very self-indulgent one shot about Blake and Yang as rival pirate captains, with a healthy dose of fighting, and even more sexual tension.

Words: ~4300

Rating: T (ish?)

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

”Sail!”

Ruby’s voice rings out loud and clear from her perch on the crow’s nest. As soon as she hears the call, Yang, on the quarterdeck, points her spyglass to the west. She doesn’t see anything at first - her sister has sharper eyes than most, which is why she’s so often their lookout - but, eventually, she finds the dark shape on the horizon line. There it is. The Atlas Navy ship that’s gonna make them all rich. And more importantly, free. 

She tucks the spyglass back in a pocket of her waistcoat. On the lower deck, the crew awaits her orders, rugged faces turned towards her with eyes full of hope and determination. A few feet from her, Weiss, her quartermaster, waits as well, standing by the steering wheel. A hint of nervousness shows in the way her gloved hand grips the pommel of her rapier. 

Yang faces Weiss, grinning. “Time to hunt those bastards. Raise the black.” Weiss’s mouth curves in a smile, white teeth glinting ominously in the sunlight, as does the white oiled cloth of her eyepatch. She turns to the crew. “You heard the captain, we’re going after them. Raise the black! Raise the mainsail! Batten down the hatches!”

The crew scrambles to obey, with the habitual trepidation that comes with an impending fight, and soon they’re picking up speed. Yang feels the wind on her face, toying with her hair, spraying salt on her sunbaked skin. She breathes in, deeply, and checks the loaded pistol at her hip, the broad cutlass hanging from her belt. She’s wearing her combat hook today ; the tip is as sharp as any blade, and more dangerous than most since she’s the one wielding it. Captain Xiao Long, the Dragon of the seas, is ready for battle.

“There’s another one!” Ruby yells, suddenly. Even from so high up, Yang hears the shock in her sister’s voice. “Another ship! Coming from the south, faster than us!”

“Another Atlas ship?” Yang groans, cursing internally. Two ships against one won’t make for an easy fight, even if her Summer Thorn is as sturdy as they come. 

“No, it’s not showing Atlas colors. They’re… Oh, goddamnit. Yang, it’s the Black Cat.”

Yang’s blood boils. Her eyes turn red. “How the fuck did Belladonna find out about this?”

Nobody answers but the wind.

***

Admiral Cordovin, commander of the Atlesian Fleet, captain of the Iron Boot, Navy veteran, manages to keep her cool as the enemy ship comes at them full speed. That is, until she catches sight of the black flag with white fangs raised on top of the main mast - then she can’t help a whimper of fear. She glances behind her, but the line of soldiers standing at attention doesn’t react. Maybe they didn’t hear. 

“Is that… Is that the Black Cat?” her-second-in-command murmurs beside her, not bothering to mask his terror.

The ship is a schooner, elegant and fast, coursing through the waves like it has a mind of its own. Cordovin swallows, uneasily. Everyone knows seeing the flag of the Black Cat is a bad omen.

“Cannons at the ready!” she orders, voice trembling slightly. The second-in-command gulps. “Ma’am, are we actually fighting them?”

“Not like we have a choice. Captain Belladonna will massacre all of us if we surrender - bloodthirsty savage.”

“Actually,” a voice murmurs right behind her ear, “you do have a choice.”

Cordovin tries to turn around, but there’s an arm around her neck and a knife against her throat, so she stills. From the corner of her eye, she can only see the white and blue colors of an Atlas uniform. Fear must have taken hold of one of her soldiers. ”How dare you threaten an officer of the Atlas Navy, grunt?” she snarls, between gritted teeth. “Let me go at once, or I will have you whipped.”

A chuckle. “Grunt? Oh, I don’t believe I’ve ever been more insulted in my life, Admiral - and I frequent a rough crowd.” The knife presses harder against her skin, drawing blood. “I am no soldier, but my crew will happily give you a fight if that’s what you want. Or should we resolve this like civilized people?” 

“Your crew?” Cordovin says, confused.

“Oh, I forgot to introduce myself, apologies. Blake Belladonna, captain of the Black Cat. You may have heard of me: I am sometimes described as a bloodthirsty savage.”

The blood drains from Cordovin’s face. “What do you want?” she whispers, weakly. 

***

“I don’t get it. Why haven’t they attacked yet?” Weiss says, furiously pacing on the quarterdeck. Yang shrugs, just as confused. They’ve cautiously approached the scene, and she has a good view through her spyglass. The Black Cat has slid smoothly next to the Iron Boot, but nothing else has happened, no cannon fired, no attempt to board the Atlas ship. 

“Negotiations?” she wonders out loud. 

“The Atlas Navy would never negotiate with pirates,” Weiss dismisses, sharply.

Yang glances at her. Weiss was once part of the Atlas Navy, a promising young officer, before her father threw her out and she ended up on Yang’s ship. She’s always tense when they encounter the Navy. 

“Are we attacking or what?” Ruby asks, impatiently, stepping up the ladder to join them on the quarterdeck. She’s pointing her flint pistol in the direction of the ships. 

“No,” Yang says. “I want to know what Belladonna’s plan is before we do anything.”

She focuses again on the spyglass, studying the situation quietly, until - “There, that’s her.”

In the small circle of the magnifying glass, she watches Blake walk across the gangplank from the Atlas ship to hers, holding another person in front of her. “Hostage?” Yang murmurs, frowning.

The plank is pulled back, and the Black Cat’s crew raises their sails. The ship moves away, slowly. 

“They’re leaving!” Ruby warns. 

“Yeah, I can see that, but why…” Yang cuts herself off as, with one swift, brutal kick, Blake pushes her prisoner overboard.

But this isn’t what leaves Yang open-mouthed and shocked silent. It’s the fact that Blake is waving at her. Clearly aware that she’s being watched. Even worse, she’s full-on smirking. 

For a while, there’s nothing Yang can do but stare. Blake’s black curls are neatly tucked under her tricorn hat, but instead of her usual dark clothes, she’s wearing the uniform of an Atlas soldier - light blue vest opened on a crisp white shirt, white breeches, sturdy boots. Yang may despise the Navy, but damn if their uniform doesn’t look splendid on Blake Belladonna. 

And then, it dawns on Yang exactly why Blake’s grinning : the roll of parchment held tight, victoriously, in her right hand.

***

Later that evening, Yang stands on the upper deck, thinking. The Summer Thorn is anchored in Menagerie Bay, and Kuo Kuana sprawls in front of her, past the docks, beautiful and dangerous. Remnant’s very own capital of piracy, and notoriously neutral territory, is awake with the raucous sounds of pirates drinking, dancing, eating, singing, and in all probability, fucking. Even the lawless roaming the sea need a place to rest.

The night has fallen. Lights twinkle on the shore, from bonfires and taverns. Behind the town looms the dark jungle.

“So that’s it, then,” Weiss says, mournfully. Yang almost jumps ; she didn’t hear her come near. “We lost the map to Salem’s treasure. We’re done.”

“Not yet.”

Weiss rests her elbows on the wooden railing. The moon reflects off her eyepatch, and her white hair. It makes her look otherworldly - like a ghost.

“We can’t fight them in Menagerie, Yang, it’s neutral territory. We’d be banned from the island.”

“Fighting ain’t the only way to get what you want,” Yang says, slowly.

Weiss frowns. “Stealing? That’s almost as bad if we’re caught. And after today, the Black Cat is gonna be well guarded.”

“She won’t have it on the ship.” Weiss looks at her, surprised. Yang grins. “Belladonna is too careful, and too damn proud, to leave the map under anyone’s supervision but hers. She’s definitely keeping it on her person while they’re out tonight, celebrating their victory. And you know what she loves more than winning? Bragging about it. To me, specifically.”

There’s a pause. Weiss raises an eyebrow, as understanding washes over her face. “You don’t mean to… Yang, there’s no way she’s gonna fall for that.”

“Oh, don’t worry. She will fall for me.”

***

Blake sits in a corner of the main room in the Sailors’ Luck tavern. Candles fill the space with dim, flickering light, while the roars of laughter and drunken singing seem to bounce off the stone walls. The air is stale with the smell of sweat and alcohol and unwashed clothes, hot and unpleasantly humid, but Blake has never been happier. They pulled off the whole plan perfectly. 

Sun comes back from the bar with two cups of ale and slides in on the bench beside her. “To another victory!” They clink their glasses. Blake pats the left side of her jacket, feeling the bulky shape of the map tucked in the inside pocket. “You did great today,” she tells Sun, who was in charge of the Black Cat while she was posing as an Atlas soldier on the Iron Boot.

He grins, but before he can answer, the door opens. Captain Xiao Long and the crew of the Summer Thorn walk in, greeted by cheers and shouts. They are a popular bunch among the pirates of Menagerie Bay, respected both for their ruthlessness and their generosity. Xiao Long strides toward the bar, smile locked in place. Blake studies her, tense, looking for signs of a threat. But Yang looks like any other sailor on leave - she’s wearing an old, worn-out brown shirt under a simple sleeveless waistcoat, and the orange sash tied effortlessly around her hips doesn’t conceal any weapons. Even her hook sports an innocent-looking blunt tip. Blake bites her lower lip, mind racing. Yang Xiao Long should be plotting revenge right now, not walking into a tavern like nothing’s wrong and Blake didn’t just steal her prize from under her. 

Across the room, Yang turns around, purposefully looking straight at her. Blake isn’t fast enough to avoid her gaze, and their eyes meet. Shit. Yang grabs two glasses from the bar, and makes her way to Blake, not once looking away.

“Uh oh,” Sun whispers. “Trouble incoming.”

“I can handle her.”

“Captain Belladonna, First Mate Wukong,” Yang greets them with a pleasant smile. “Care if I join you?”

“Take a seat,” Blake says. Sun waves awkwardly.

Yang sits, and pushes one of the drinks towards Blake. “To congratulate you,” she says, looking at Blake unabashedly. ”On such an unexpected win.”

“Don’t drink that,” Sun mutters. Yang raises an eyebrow.

“I would never harm one of our own on neutral territory. And frankly, I resent the accusation.”

“Sure you do.”

Yang’s pleasant demeanor doesn’t change, but, somehow, her smile turns dangerous. The sight does something weird to Blake’s stomach, the way a sudden wave might make her feel briefly unbalanced. “If I wanted to take your captain out, I wouldn’t do it secretly. When I kill, it’s with a blade, not poison. I’m no coward.”

“Is that a threat?” Sun balks, half out of his seat.

Blake grabs his arm, stopping him from reaching for his dagger. “Sun, can you give us a minute?”

“… Fine,” he says, reluctantly.

He sends her one last look before stalking off to the bar. Blake watches him go. Sun is her most loyal friend, and fiercely protective of her. He’s been at her side since the very beginning, when she wasn’t anyone’s captain, and the Black Cat was Adam’s. Blake is thankful for him, always, but sometimes he forgets that she can take care of herself.

And, maybe, she’s looking forward to dealing with Captain Xiao Long on her own.

“So,” Blake says, fingers closing around the cup Yang brought her. She can’t help smirking a bit. “You wanted to congratulate me.”

Yang brings her own cup to her lips. She takes a long gulp. “I don’t know how you did it, but you bested me.”

“It wasn’t that hard.”

Yang’s eyes flash with a tinge of red - like a spark of lightning before thunder. Blake’s smirk widens. She loves this. Most pirates in Kuo Kuana fear her, and the rest pity her. They’ve heard the tales of Blake and the Black Cat, how she lead the mutiny against Adam Taurus, how she fought him and killed him and took his place. They’re weary of her. Not Yang, though. In the few years they’ve known each other, competing for the same gold, sailing on the same sea, Yang Xiao Long has been an infuriating rival, yes, but one who treats Blake with respect. And even, sometimes, a sort of playful camaraderie, that…

“How did you learn about the Iron Boot? About the map they carried?” Yang asks, interrupting Blake’s thoughts. She’s leaning back in her chair now, her hook draped on the backrest. The position highlights the muscles of her arms, visible under the tight shirt, the solid knots of her shoulders, the line of her neck. 

Blake sips her drink. “I have my ways.”

She expects Yang’s eyes to flash angrily again, but Yang laughs instead. The sound makes something heat at the bottom of Blake’s stomach. “So mysterious, Belladonna.” She pauses to think.”Was it that girl of yours? The quiet one? Did you send her to eavesdrop on my crew?”

She means Ilia, Blake’s boatswain - and occasional scout. “Maybe,” Blake says, noncommittal. 

Yang licks her lips. “Or was it you?” Blake can’t look away from her mouth, hypnotized, the way they say sailors can’t turn away from the song of sirens. “Sneaking onto my ship, into my cabin, reading my logs, peering over my maps?”

Blake doesn’t deny it, even though she did, in fact, send Ilia. She’s never set foot on the Summer Thorn. Yang’s voice turns husky. “It’s too bad, Belladonna. If I’d known you were there, I would have given you a show.”

“Why would I want that?” Blake protests, unconvincingly.

“Oh, Blake,” Yang says. “You think I haven’t noticed the way you look at me?”

Maybe it’s the words, unveiling so carelessly a truth Blake's never even admitted to herself, maybe the voice, low and wicked and tender all at once, maybe simply Yang saying her name for the first time - but Blake finds herself unable to speak. Spellbound. 

“Qrow always saves me a room when I’m in town. Last door on the right - join me for the night, Captain.”

Without waiting for Blake’s response, Yang gets up and makes her way back to the crowded bar. Blake watches her talk to Qrow, the tavern owner, before disappearing up the stairs.

She waits a minute, two, finishes her drink, scans the crowd. Sun is busy flirting with a local. No one is paying attention to her. She follows Yang upstairs.

As soon as she steps inside the room, Yang closes the door behind her. “Is this an ambush?” Blake teases.

“Of sorts.” Yang places her human hand flat against Blake’s stomach, and pushes lightly until her back hits the wall. Blake looks at Yang’s mouth. She feels almost dizzy with desire, imagining those lips on her. Yang steps closer. She rests her hook near Blake’s face, against the wall. There’s a flash of hesitation in her eyes, as she exhales, lips parted, looking at Blake, waiting… Blake grabs the collar of Yang’s shirt, and pulls her down. She’s done with waiting. She has a victory to celebrate.

They kiss. Yang’s lips taste like rum with a faint hint of salt. Blake slides a thigh between Yang’s legs, greedy, and slips her tongue inside Yang’s mouth when she moans. 

It’s a great kiss, so great that when Yang pulls back to breathe, Blake lets out a small whimper of protest. Smiling, Yang brings her hand up to Blake’s face, holding her jaw with warm calloused fingers, staring at her. The wonder in her eyes takes Blake’s breath away, like a kick in the chest. She touches Yang’s hook, softly, the smooth, cold metal, fingers trailing up to the leather gauntlet and the wooden stump, following up Yang’s arm to the hard point of her elbow, the taut muscle of her bicep. Yang swallows. Her cheeks are dusted with pink, and Blake suddenly wants nothing more than to spend days touching her, exploring with her fingertips the fierce Dragon of the seas. For a moment, they slow to a halt, Blake’s hand on Yang’s arm, Yang’s eyes on her mouth, and it feels like they’re on the brink of something - 

And then, Yang spins Blake around so that she’s facing the wall, and Blake doesn’t think about anything anymore but the press of Yang’s warm body against her back.

***

When Blake wakes up, a few hours later, Yang is long gone.

So is the map. 

***

“Xiao Long!”

The voice carries far, reaching the prowl of the ship, and Yang’s ears. She peers over board.

Blake Belladonna stands on the docks in front of the Summer Thorn, framed by Sun Wukong and Ilia Amitolia, long fitted purple coat flowing in the breeze, hair tied under a black tricorn hat with a broad golden brim, two sharp sabers hanging from her belt. Her face is grim, her eyes cold. Yang feels a pang of remorse, which she promptly swallows down.

She tips her own hat. “Captain. What can I do for you?” She puts some charm in her voice, aware of the eyes of her crew on them both. 

Blake glares. “I want the map.”

Yang caresses the wooden railing of the Summer Thorn, nonchalantly. “Which one? I got plenty of ‘em.”

“The one you stole from us!” Ilia retorts, impatiently, raising her flint pistol. Ruby reacts in a heartbeat, her own weapon aimed at Ilia, ready to fire. 

The last thing Yang wants is an outward brawl - not so close to their goal. She puts her hands out, looking at Blake. “I’m sure we can solve this without bloodshed, Captain.”

Blake’s face doesn’t change. “I want a duel. You owe me as much.” Yang considers her. Blake is deadly with a blade, and deadlier with two. She’s never fought her, but she’s watched, and heard enough, to know they are evenly matched. Accepting shouldn’t even cross her mind.

But Blake is right - Yang owes her. She may be a pirate, but it won’t be said she won without honor. And last night felt… She nods. “Deal.”

“Yang, no,” Weiss whispers furiously. “What if you lose?”

Yang grins. “Have you so little faith in me?” To Blake, she yells, “Come aboard, you and your people. Let’s have ourselves a duel, Belladonna.”

In a matter of minutes, the deck is cleared. Yang and Blake face each other in the middle, alone. Everyone else has scattered to the sides, leaving them ample space to move. The rules are simple: the first one to say the words “I surrender” loses. Winner gets the map.

Yang has shed her vest and hat, and rolled the sleeves of her shirt above the elbows, baring the part where her arm ends and the metal hook begins. Her hair is tamed under her orange handkerchief, to keep from falling in her eyes. In her other hand, she twirls her cutlass. 

Blake is wielding both her swords. She watches Yang, lips pressed in a stubborn line. Yang doesn’t know if it’s wishful thinking, or if she really catches Blake’s eyes lingering a bit too long on the dip of her shirt.

But there’s no time for such considerations. Weiss blows her quartermaster whistle - the fight begins.

They circle each other, eyes sharp, careful. Yang tries a few hits. Blake blocks them all easily. not once breaking a sweat. She retaliates, but Yang parries with her blade, and makes her stumble backward.

It’s like that for a while - the two of them testing each other - until Blake suddenly picks up the pace. She darts on the left, twirls around Yang, fences on her right, slashing a line of fire on Yang’s shoulder. She’s so quick, Yang barely dodges her next hit, a stab to the chest. She manages to knock Blake’s sword away, but not before it snags a button off her shirt, leaving her collarbones exposed. 

Blake retreats, a satisfied little smile playing at the corner of her mouth. Yang, breathing a bit heavily, laughs. “Belladonna, you’re gonna have to try harder than that if you want to get my clothes off.”

“You and I both know that’s not true,” Blake retorts. She’s trying hard for indifference, but Yang notices the way her jaw tightens. She uses the distraction, and charges. 

Blake puts up a good fight, but under the full strength of Yang’s assault, she has no other choice but to fall back. Soon, Yang has her pressed to the railing. She takes a wide swipe at her. Blake, in an impressive demonstration of acrobatic skills, jumps up and backward, feet landing on top of the railing as Yang’s blade sinks into the wood. But the railing is damp with seawater, and Blake slips. Just before she falls overboard, Yang catches her by the belt, stabilizing her. Blake exhales in surprise. Yang winks. "You know, I can think of a few easier ways to get you wet." 

Blake glares. She twists from Yang’s hold, vaults from the railing and reaches the main mast. Yang frees her weapon from the wood. She turns just in time to see Blake dropping her swords, spinning around the mast and using one of the sailing ropes to launch herself at Yang.

She’s unarmed, yet she’s never been more terrifying. There’s nothing Yang can do to evade the attack - Bake is coming too fast. So instead, Yang drops her weapon as well, and opens her arms, catching Blake by the waist as she drives her boots into Yang’s ribcage. They both tumble to the ground in a mess of limbs. Yang’s back hits the planks of the deck, hard. Blake lands on top of her, knocking the air out of her lungs. 

Dizzy, eyes burning with instinctive tears at the pain, Yang doesn’t move. Something small and sharp presses against the skin of her neck. When she looks up, Blake is sitting on her hips, holding a knife to her throat. Yang’s heart beats fast, a mix of adrenaline and fear and something else. Something exhilarating. From so close, she can see the sweat on Blake’s brow, she can feel the flex of Blake’s legs around her. The sun, high in the sky, is eclipsed by the gold of Blake’s eyes. 

Blake smiles. "Not the first time I’ve found you in a compromising position, Captain Xiao Long,” she says, with the smooth satisfaction of someone who thinks they’ve won.

Yang commits this sight to memory, Blake victorious, smug, on top of her. Then she pushes her heels against the deck, grabs Blake’s wrist, twists, and with one powerful jerk, dislodges Blake while making her drop the knife. ”If my memory is correct,” Yang says, wincing as pain flares in her wounded shoulder, “I was the one on top."

There’s a brief scuffle, but Blake’s no match for Yang in hand-to-hand combat. It ends with Blake forced on her knees, the tip of Yang’s hook tilting her chin up. Yang breathes out, once, twice. Her crew is cheering. She did it: the map is hers. And yet…

Blake’s eyes are locked on hers, refusing to look away. She’s not cowering in defeat - quite the opposite. Yang reads defiance in her eyes, and pride in the thin line of her mouth, and suddenly Yang’s heart breaks at the idea of making Blake yield. She can’t do it. She’s not the Navy ; she won’t take pleasure in crushing a brave spirit under her heel for the sake of victory.

So before Blake can say anything, she pulls her hook back, and says, loud enough for everyone to hear, “I surrender”. 

***

Blake follows Yang to her cabin, blood beating in her throat. She’s not sure what she expects, but it’s certainly not the cup of rum Yang offers her. 

She takes it, surveying the room. There’s a bed, in the corner, and a massive desk of polished wood, covered in maps and papers and navigation tools. Yang pushes the mess away from one edge, so she can hop on the desk and sip her own drink.

“Good fight,” she says. Her eyes are on Blake. Her face is sweaty, flushed, eyes still tinted red. Suddenly, Blake can’t look at her. Instead she points at the blood staining Yang’s shirt.

“Are you going to clean that?”

“Later.”

There’s a silence. Blake downs the rest of her drink, and steels her nerves.

“Why did you bring me here?” she demands, calmly. “You could have won.”

Yang’s finger follows the rim of her glass. “I’m… sorry I took that map from you.”

Blake cocks her head. That’s unexpected. Pirates don’t apologize for stealing - it’s what they do.

“I’m especially sorry for the way I did it.” Yang looks up. There’s regret in her eyes, and something underneath it, something raw and powerful and vulnerable that has Blake blinking, her chest hurting with sudden emotion. “But this map is important to me. To my crew. We want to take down the Atlas Navy, Blake. We want to get rid of them once and for all, so we can make the ocean our home without being constantly hunted. But to do that, I need gold.”

She pauses again. Blake’s stomach is bubbling with excitement.

“I need to find Salem’s treasure. And the map I stole from you is our only lead.”

“You want to go after the Navy?” Blake asks, low and hopeful. She’s considered it before, of course - an all-out fight against the people who want them dead - but she never thought they stood a chance. Her wild, joyous, brave, undisciplined crew against the full might and resources of Atlas. 

Yang looks her in the eye. “I do. And I don’t want to have to fight you. I want to fight the Navy with you.”

Blake considers the offer. It’s an easy choice.

“Partners?” she asks, raising her glass.

“Partners,” Yang replies, raising hers. 

And they drink, staring at each other, to new beginnings.

[toxophilitis]

Daddy’s Little Girls cont.

CHAPTER SIX

Lynette started crying in the shower. How could sex feel so good, she kept asking herself, if it always made a girl feel like crying when it was over? It didn't help at all that Betty had gone off for a late afternoon bicycle ride, leaving her there to do the housework. And it sure hadn't helped to have Russ just fuck her and leave. She was almost sorry she'd learned all about sex, for it seemed she'd been happier before, when she was still a virgin. If only her father would come home, he'd explain things to her -- but, of course, she could never tell him what all she'd done.

She got out of the shower and dried off and brushed her long hair. In the mirror she saw herself as being too thin, without enough curves to her girlish body, and certainly without enough tit on her chest. Her cunt was still damp and sensitive to the touch. And her asshole was still so sensitive that it made her squirm and pant when she put her finger on it. All of her body was hot, and the very thought of putting clothes on was repulsive. Naked, stopping to rub at her cunt and her stiff-nippled tits and her buns and her asshole from time to time, Lynette moved about the empty house doing chores she was supposed to share with Betty and Mark. Looking out through her parents' bedroom window, she saw her neighbor, Olive Cook, going out to her back yard. Lynette wouldn't have noticed her if Olive hadn't slammed her back door so loudly. And now as Lynette watched, Mrs. Cook opened and slammed the door again, looking toward Lynette's house as she did so.

The brunette woman looked as sexy as ever. Her long hair was in wave and she had on a black string bikini that was shockingly tiny. Mrs. Cook disappeared behind the hedge for a moment, then reappeared with a water-spouting hose in her hand. She directed its stream against Lynette's house, where the water clattered loudly. It was  hot afternoon. The water made Lynette think how nice it would feel to take care of the chore of sprinkling the yard. She quickly ran to her room, put on her pink two-piece bathing suit, and took two foam rubber pads from her drawer and stuffed them into the top of her suit before hurrying out to her own back yard.

Mrs. Cook was sprinkling the hedge between their yards as Lynette came out and turned on the hose. "Hi," said Lynette's grinning neighbor.

Lynette just grinned back at her, suddenly too shy to speak. She felt herself blushing, and she turned her back on Mrs. Cook to water the flower beds. She squealed and jumped when a cold spray of water hit her back. She whirled about and saw Mrs. Cook still grinning at her as she said, "Hi."

"H-Hi," said Lynette.

Mrs. Cook directed the water at Lynette again. Big, round drops of water arched up to come down against Lynette's hot skin. She stood there and took it, and the shivers she felt were not from the cold.

"Feel good?" asked Mrs. Cook.

Lynette jerkily nodded her head.

"Come play in my yard and I'll make you feel even better."

Lynette turned the water off and walked on trembling legs to her neighbor's yard. They stood facing one another, the slim and quaking girl in the pink bathing suit -- yesterday's virgin -- and the widely-traveled and well-fucked woman in the black string bikini. Olive Cook was slightly shorter than Lynette, but her womanly hips and the magnificent size of her barely contained tits made her outweigh the slender, redhead. Lynette stared at Olive's tits. She couldn't help it, for they were so very large, and only their big, brown aureoles were concealed by the tiny triangle of black, knitted string.

"Hot today," said Mrs. Cook, playing the stream of water onto Lynette's feet. "I've known gals that do most anything to cool off on days like this," she said, and she turned the hose on herself, sticking its open end inside one triangle of her top. She maintained her insolent grin as she massaged her big tit over which the cold water flowed. While Lynette watched in rapt fascination, she did the same to her other big tit, and then she thrust the hose down inside the triangle of black that covered her broadly bulging cunt. It made the triangle of black bulge even more. Water gushed out from the sides of it, bringing long, black hairs along with it, and now Mrs. Cook massaged her cunt as the water flowed. "Ah-h-h-h," she said. "That doesn't exactly cool a gal off, but it sure does feel good. You want to try it now, don't you?"

Lynette nodded and moved a step closer over the wet grass. Mrs. Cook stepped closer to her, so that they were almost nose-to-nose. Mrs. Cook pulled the hose out of her bikini, and pushed it into Lynette's bathing suit bottom. Lynette lifted her arms as Mrs. Cook pulled out her waistband and thrust the hose toward her cunt. The first cold shock from the water quickly gave way to a flowing coolness that filled up Lynette's swimsuit, bubbling and gushing up into the lips of her cunt and against her asshole.

"Feel good?" asked Mrs. Cook, and Lynette quickly nodded.

Mrs. Cook pulled the hose out of her bathing suit bottom and inserted it into each of Lynette's pink cups. Mrs. Cook's fingers roved over Lynette's hard-tipped titties, withdrawing her two foam rubber cups. "You won't need those when you come to see me," said the crookedly grinning woman. She pinched each of Lynette's nipples, which made the girl flinch and want more of the same.

Mrs. Cook peeled down one of Lynette's shoulder straps, baring a small but perfectly shaped pink and white tit. She caught Lynette's nipple between her thumb and forefinger and said, "Nice. You have really nice tits, Lynette. How I wish  had sweet tits like yours instead of these big tits of mine." She took her hand from Lynette's yearning tittie and slipped it inside one black triangle to heft and squeeze her own big tit as Lynette stared through widened eyes.

Mrs. Cook swayed closer and said, "We better go inside. Somebody might come along and see you, with your pretty tit all naked like that, and try to take you away from me."

Lynette followed Mrs. Cook's rhythmically swinging hips as if in a hypnotic trance. Each of the woman's deeply tanned buttocks was fully exposed to the girl's view, for the waistband of her bikini was nothing more than a string, and the string that connected that to the triangle over her cunt was completely hidden from view, deep in the crack of her ass.

The back door slammed behind them. The house was cool and quiet, but Lynette was all hot and excited as she followed Mrs. Cook into the kitchen. Mrs. Cook stopped and turned around abruptly, and Lynette collided, with her. Before she could even think to move away, Mrs. Cook had her hand around Lynette's waist and was cupping and fondling her naked tit with her other hand.

"You don't want to fight the weather and neither do I," Mrs. Cook warmly murmured, her lips almost touching Lynette's. "You want to get hot, not cool," she said, with her wet legs up against Lynette's, and her very warm hand making Lynette's naked tit feel hot and hard and big.

"Yes-s-s, nice tits," said the woman, looking down at the tit in her hand, then peeling down Lynette's top to bare the other tit. Lynette stood there trembling and swaying. "Do you mind if I play with them, darling? Does a teen like you object to things like this? I bet you'd love to have them sucked. Well? Would you?"

Lynette couldn't answer. She couldn't speak and could hardly breathe as Mrs. Cook's smooth, warm hand roved sexily over her titties and made her feel it clear down in her cunt.

Mrs. Cook was breathing heavily too as she said, "What's the matter, angel? Cat's got your pretty tongue? Can't you even tell me if you'd like to feel my mouth all over these gorgeous titties you've got? You haven't said a word since you came in here. Let's see your tongue, pretty girl. Show your friend Olive that you've still got one."

Lynette's pink tongue-tip came trembling out, and all at once Olive was kissing her. Like Olive's hand still caressing her tits, Lynette could almost feel Olive's tongue down in her cunt. Olive's skin felt very smooth and soft as Lynette clutched at her. Lynette could feel herself twitching and jerking all over, but she couldn't stop.

As they kissed, Olive pulled Lynette's hand upward to her own big tit, warm and soft and so huge that Lynette's hand couldn't begin to encompass it. A sort of yearning mounted up inside Lynette, a terrible compulsion, and she wrenched her mouth away from Olive's and started kissing the woman's big tits.

"An eager one! Not afraid of anything. I like that," Olive said in a puffing voice, as she untied her string top.

Lynette didn't quite know what she was doing, but she knew she didn't want to stop. Both of her hands and her sucking mouth couldn't begin to cover one of Olive Cook's tits. Still she tried to contain Olive's tit, licking and sucking its big, brown, blunt-pointed end, while her fingers and palms massaged her velvety warm, soft tit. She was sucking and slurping quite noisily as the saliva flowed fast in her hungry mouth.

"Kiss-kiss. Suck-suck," said Olive, holding Lynette firmly as she sucked on her tit. "You have a beautiful mouth. Just made for sucking. And I've got another big, fat tit that wants to be sucked, on and kissed."

Lynette dove for Olive's other tit, sucking in the whole distended nipple. But she didn't get nearly enough of her tit before Olive drew back and popped her tit right out of her mouth. She pulle up the sex-starving girl, kissed her, and said, "Come into my parlor, and I'll give you all you want."

Lynette followed her next door neighbor deeper into her house, watching Olive's two tanned buttocks squirming together with each step. Once again Lynette bumped into her when she stopped, and now Olive's hands raised gooseflesh all over Lynette's body as she fondled her sides. "So you want to learn about sex, do you?" Olive asked. "I'm just the one who can teach you. But before we begin, take off that girl bathing suit and show me what you've got."

Still quaking and trembling all over, looking at Olive through widened eyes, Lynette pushed down her bathing suit bottoms while the brunette woman stood smiling at her. Though Lynette knew it wasn't much she was showing, Olive smiled and nodded at what she saw.

"Your top, too. Show me your pretty tits," Olive said. Lynette, blushing hotly, unsnapped her top and cast it aside.

The girl longed for the touch of the woman. With her heart pounding, she yearned to be held in Olive's arms again, for this she knew would banish her rising doubts and fears. But Olive just walked slowly around her, her heavy tits bobbing, sampling her flesh with her hands, poking and petting and pinching here and there and makin poor Lynette want to jump out of her skin.

And then Olive walked away from her. She left her to tremble alone while she strolled to her couch and sat down, where, she leaned forward over her tightly clasped knees to further embarrass Lynette with her staring. "Turn around," Olive said. Lynette turned while the woman devoured her naked body through heavy-lidded eyes.

Olive's lacquer-tipped fingers were moving up and down her thighs, and now she began to squeeze and caress the big tits Lynette had so shamefully sucked on. Feeling herself, further arousing herself, Olive slowly shook her head and made Lynette almost burst with pride by saying, "God damn, you're a beautiful girl. No wonder my boyfriend wants to fuck you so bad he can taste it. Come here, Red. Come here and let me have a taste of your cunt."

Lynette moved slowly toward the couch. Olive helped her the last few timid steps, putting her hands on her firm, slender flanks, and when Lynette's knees were touching Olive's, the woman leaned forward and placed a warm, smacking kiss on her cunt.

"Oh, Olive!" exclaimed Lynette, for the singe kiss was entirely electrifying.

"Found your tongue, have you? I never lost mine," Olive said, extending her tongue out of he mouth a surprisingly long distance. Holding Lynette by the hips, she ran the tip of her tongue in quick patterns through Lynette's sparse, red pubic hair.

"Oh, yes! Please kiss my cunt! Please suck my cunt! I've had it done to me before and I love it!" Lynette blurted.

Olive kissed her there again and said, "Oh? And who was the lucky boy or girl who got to this pretty cunt before me?"

"M-My brother kissed me there. We made him do it to both of us. My cousin Betty and me."

Olive laughed, and said, "Mark? You deserve something better than that. A fine cunt like yours deserves some really expert licking and sucking." She leaned forward once again.

Her extraordinarily long tongue came slithering out, making Lynette gasp quite loudly as it entered the top of her slit. She gasped even louder when Olive's tongue wriggled and burrowed and found her clitoris. And then she was writhing, out of control, hanging onto Olive's black-haired head and saying, "Oh! This is just what I've been dreaming about! It feels better than anything else in the world! Oh, Mrs. Cook! Oh, Olive, your tongue feels even better than a cock!"

Olive drew back and licked her lips, smiled up at Lynette and said, "You'll think differently whe you've felt a real, man-sized cock in your cunt. Has your brother fucked you, too?"

"Yes! But Betty made me let him do it."

"And was he the only one?"

"N-No. Russ. Just after I saw him... fuck you!"

"You're a good, honest girl, and you'll get your reward for that."

Olive moved her hands up over Lynette's long, narrow waist to her tits, and there she closed a thumb and forefinger over each of her nipples, shocking the girl with pleasure and drawing her down to her knees. They began to kiss once again. Olive rolled Lynette's nipples between her fingers until the girl could stand it no more. She dropped down to lick and suck at the woman's big tits once again.

"That's nice," Olive purred, "but it's time you got down to business." Olive pushed her down to her flat belly, opened her legs, and now Lynette was kissing her cunt.

The black triangle of knitted string on Olive's cunt was still quite damp. The smell of her cunt through the cloth was quite strong, almost enough to turn Lynette away from her mad, feverish kisses. Through the cloth she could feel Olive's cunt, and a clitoris so large that Lynette couldn't believe it. Suddenly Olive lifted her up from he cunt and was kissing her hard on the mouth, then pulling her down on the couch with a passion that seemed to exceed Lynette's.

"Get your ass right there on the edge of the cushions," Olive firmly told her. "I want that cunt of yours wide open and ready for anything." And then she went down on her knees on the floor, and gave Lynette a lesson in cunt-kissing she would never forget.

Olive swiped up and down through Lynette's nearly-virginal cunt, tasting creamy, wet freshness that kept the juices in her own cunt at the boiling point. Olive had to hold herself back from taking a great big bite out of Lynette's delectably and tender cunt. She gently licked Lynette's tiny clitoris, and slowly increased her sucking, tickling her clitoris with the tip of her tongue.

"Oh, Olive! Oh, that feels so good! I really did dream about you like this. With your head down between my legs. Oh-h-h, but I never dreamed it would feel so goo-o-o-o-o-d! Oh, Olive! I'm gonna cum! I'm gonna cum-m-m-in!" Lynette squealed, fucking and rolling on Olive's couch, flailing about with her legs and arms, just barely staying on the edge of the cushions.

"Again! I'm gonna do it aga-a-a-ain!" Lynette cried, as the grinning Olive slithered her rapidly waggling tongue down through the girl's slit an burrowed it deeply into her hole.

Olive sucked on her cunt, drank up and swallowed the sweet cunt's gushing juices, and watched each of the teenager's hot contortions. She pushed her tongue farther down, between the girl's provocative buttocks, and then up inside her asshole, making Lynette moan and groan and beg for more with every move she was making. Olive licked her asshole and nibbled her tight cuntlips before getting back to her clit for more sucking. And as she sucked now, Olive loosened the tie of her string bikini bottoms.

Lynette's sensations were overwhelming. Everything she had experienced with sex so far had been exciting, but this was a whole new dimension because it went on and on and on. Over and over again her delicate body was racked with orgasmic ecstasy, each one seeming larger than the last and each one leading on to another. She was babbling incoherently at Olive, one moment begging her to stop, and the very next moment begging her to go on and eat her cunt some more.

"Ur-r-rgh! Ah-h-h-hgh! Yes-s-s! Oh-h-h-h!" Everything Lynette tried to say came out in a strangled groan, as every cell in her body was being wrung out by the wonderfully lascivious kisses that ripped through her crotch and her cunt. He pleasures continued even as Olive moved to her side on the couch. It seemed like a miracle to have the woman's hot body beside her while the sensational suckings continued on in her wide open cunt. Lynette twisted about and flung her arms around Olive to kiss her, when she realized that the black thatch of hair at her side was that of Olive's cunt.

Olive felt the girl's hesitation, but continued with her hungry kisses on Lynette's deliciously orgasming cunt.

Olive's black thatch of cunt hair was coming down on Lynette's face. Her arms were around Olive's hips. The sight of Olive's looming, hairy cunt was frightening to her, the smell of her cunt quite revolting. Olive pushed her cunt tightly against Lynette's panicked face, and Lynette's orgasms continued as she tried to twist away from Olive's big, fleshy cuntlips. She couldn't help but brush her lips against Olive's cunt. And then she couldn't help but lick Olive's cunt. And then her saliva flowed, for the taste of Olive's cunt was entirely seducing. Lynette's arms tightened around Olive's hips as she sucked passionately on Olive's cunt.

Hot! Wet! Exquisite! Lynette covered Olive's black-furred cunt with dripping kisses. She felt insane in her need to do it, sucking and licking an lapping and kissing, and trying her best to make Olive catch up with her in the unceasing stream of orgasms that ripped even more strongly through her body.

Locked in each other's arms and sixty-nining, the woman and girl tumbled down from the couch and went on sucking each other's cunts. "Mmmmm! MM-M-M-MF!" Groans and the cracking of joints and the smell of hot cunt filled the room as the two of them madly sucked cunt, cumming and cumming as hard as they could, and straining to cum some more. Their bodies were drenched with sweat, and cuntjuice sopped their faces and their crotches as they rolled about on the floor, with their cunts cumming and cumming until at last they collapsed and could come no more.

[tiliamericana]

Muay Thai: 1.03

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The florist down the street was a peaceful place, even if walking in the front door was a little like being punched in the nose. They had a scent pump hidden in a hanging pot by the front door—Nairi wasn’t entirely certain why they needed to spray heavy fragrance oils inside a place filled with flowers, but she’d never managed a flower shop herself. Maybe they were trying to hook pedestrians.

The college kid manning the counter waved in recognition, already turning to fetch her order from the shelf. “Back again?” he said cheerfully as she approached, setting her wrapped cuttings on the counter. “I shouldn’t really discourage repeat patronage, but you know these suckers are pretty easy to grow yourself, right?”

Nairi shrugged, handing her card over as he rung up her order. “I’m pretty bad at keeping plants alive.”

He gave her a rueful grin as he handed her the chip reader to finish the transaction. “I get that��I used to kill cactuses before I started working here. The nurseries we order from have some pretty fierce gardeners on staff though, got me sorted very quickly.”

“Mhm.”

He nodded and kept talking despite her disinterest. The Thursday morning flower rush clearly didn’t provide enough opportunities for socialization. “Yeah, they’re all local places who go all in on small seasonal batches and heritage seeds. The bigger commercial suppliers don’t really have the same kind of knowledge base, it’s very cool.”

Nairi gave him a polite smile as she pocketed her card and picked up the greenery. “I’ll take your word for it.”

“Have a great day!” he called out as she left through the flowers. She sneezed when she stepped into the fresh air outside and rubbed at her nose. Hopefully orchids would go out of fashion soon; she was rapidly coming to hate the smell.

It was a nice day, and she lingered for a moment before heading back inside the dojo. Sun streamed across the front room and she hesitated before leaving the door unlocked. She was close to her opening time anyway and if someone came in early the bell would ring. She tucked her wallet and keys into the desk drawer with the lock and crossed to the back room, leaving that door open behind her.

The second room had a viewing gallery rather than floor markings, and it was raised off the ground as a little balconette. It ran the length of the back wall with a built-in bench and was accessible by a stained wood step ladder; a very pretty feature, the real estate agent had said. Nairi had set her shrine at the far end of the balcony, on a little nook inset to the wall. It had had dividing shelves installed, probably for bags or shoes, but she’d pulled them out to make room.

She’d cleaned her vase that morning to replace the plants, filling it with clean water before she left. The kid at the florist’s hadn’t really reacted when she’d placed her weekly order for just green plants rather than anything with flowers, but she supposed she didn’t actually know what was considered ‘odd’ to buy from a florist.  

Everything else was set up, so she lit the incense and knelt.

A few minutes later the bell rang. Nairi stared at the shrine in front of her for a few moments, then blinked and climbed to her feet. Halfway down the ladder someone called out her name, and her confusion only rose as she stepped onto the mats and crossed back to the front room.

The hooker from the night before, Cherry, was standing in the doorway. She was still half outside, door propped open with her hip, one hand behind her in the sunlight with a lit cigarette smoldering in her fingers. Her other hand was a bit closer to her body, probably to balance the cardboard tray with two coffee cups in it. Her expression brightened when she made eye contact with Nairi, and she smiled. “Oh, there you are! Wasn’t sure I had the right place.”

Nairi stared at her blankly. In the daylight Cherry looked like almost an entirely different person—slinky dress and soft make up gone, traded for faded and worn cutoffs and tank top with half laced docs. Her bare arms had tattoos of fire circling her wrists, tongues of flame licking up to her elbows and her clean face was rounder and freckled.

“Why are you here?” said Nairi blankly, staring at her.

Cherry grinned, juggling the cups between her elbow and shoulder very carefully. “You saved my ass and bought me dinner. I’ve been on dates that aren’t that nice, babe, I wanted to say thanks.”

She dropped the cigarette on the concrete and crushed it under the toe of her boot before stepping inside properly. The bell jingled again as the door swung shut behind her, and she blinked to adjust to the light inside before taking the few steps to close the distance between her and Nairi.

“I wasn’t sure what you liked,” she said, tugging one of the cups out of the tray and offering it to Nairi, “so I just picked the most inoffensive thing I could think of.”

Nairi took the cup after a moment and had a quick sip. Foamy, bitter coffee filled her mouth and she tried not to grimace as she swallowed. “Thanks.”

The corner of Cherry’s mouth twitched. “Not a latte kind of girl?”

Nairi winced. “I don’t drink coffee,” she admitted, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “Sorry, it was really nice of you.”

“Can’t win ‘em all,” said Cherry, still smiling at her as she plucked the cup out of Nairi’s hand. “Do you like mochas, or teas or something?”

“Uh, I mean, tea usually, I don’t—caffeine gives me headaches—”

“Do you have some time before you open this place up?” asked Cherry, gesturing around the dojo.

“I guess, yeah, I scheduled for twelve, but no one shows up for—”

“Great!” said Cherry brightly. “C’mon, I don’t know how fancy Starbucks gets, but there’s this little posh place on the corner that looks like they’ll sneer at you for using teabags, lemme get you a pot?”

Nairi glanced at the clock over her door. There were fifteen minutes til she was scheduled to open, but, well, no one had booked or called about the noon session. “Okay,” she said after a moment.

Cherry grinned, raising the second coffee to her lips and sculling it in long gulps as Nairi slipped her shoes on. She dropped the coffee cups in Nairi’s wastepaper basket and reached out, grabbing Nairi by the wrist to tug her onto the street outside. Nairi took a second to lock up with the chain while Cherry tapped a toe impatiently, and when she turned back Cherry was watching her curiously.

“You have a problem with break ins?” she asked as Nairi stepped back next to her.

“No,” said Nairi, glancing at her. “Why do you ask?”

Cherry shrugged, hooking her hands into the back pockets of her shorts as they walked. “Heavy duty locks for this part of town, s’all. Though, I’ve lived in some pretty interesting places, and then college towns like, totally fuck with your perception of that stuff, so I’m probably not the best judge of what’s like, a ‘good area’ or whatever.”

Nairi hummed noncommittedly, keeping her gaze ahead of her. She could feel Cherry’s eyes on the side of her face and tried not to think too hard about what it was she was seeing.

The café Cherry took her to was on the other end of the street to Nairi’s building, and it was small and picturesque. It had low armchairs and beanbags dotted around the open air front space, and as it transitioned into the café proper the walls were lined with tall shelves sporting thick, coffee-table books and lush, overflowing ferns. Low chatter and the steaming of coffee machines filled the sparsely occupied room.

Cherry went straight for the counter, tugging Nairi along with her. “Hey there!” she said in a friendly tone, flashing a bright smile at the bearded young man behind the counter. “Do you guys have any like, fun teas?”

He nodded, leaning over the counter to point at the chalkboard wall with the marker he’d been turning over in his hands. “Sure do. We’ve got all of these guys, plus, you know, like English Breakfast and stuff. The Sinnamon’s new, and Rose and Shine is very popular with soda and ice as a morning mocktail.”

The other teas on the menu were called things like ‘Rooid Boi’, ‘Lemon Aid’, ‘Raspberry Remnant’, and ‘Tea Thyme’ with the ingredients listed in a nigh incomprehensible chalked cursive. Nairi stared at them blankly.

Cherry squinted at them, mouth open slightly. “….Did you just forget to write the raspberry in on that one?” she asked, pointing at ‘Raspberry Remnant’.

“It used to have raspberry leaves in the blend, but we had some issues. We liked the name, so we kept it,” he said, shrugging.

Nairi ignored the wall and turned to address the guy instead. “Do you have anything with oolong?” she tried.

He nodded, pointing at a couple of the marked teas again. “Yeah, the Roasty Posie is oolong with mixed floral overtones, and Save the Teas uses an oolong base as well. If you’re looking for a gentler caffeine experience, then Rose and Shine uses white tea.” He grinned, leaning on the counter with his elbows. “Also, we do a uh, ‘house special’ with the Serenity Chill where we add booster shots of oolong and white tea—we call it ‘Aunt Mableton’s Icicle Situation’ after our manager’s cat.”

“Good to know,” said Nairi after a moment. “I’ll have a pot of Save the Teas, I guess?”

“Sure,” he said, leaning back and pulling the cap off the marker to write it down directly on the polished steel countertop. “Can I grab anything else for you ladies?”

“Can I grab an iced mocha,” said Cherry, turning her head and pointing at the glass case. “And like… one each of the fruit muffins?”

He nodded, adding them down as Nairi tugged out her wallet to pay. Cherry smacked her hand away and handed the guy some cash in exchange for the little table number, giving Nairi a wry grin. She stuffed the change into the tip jar and tugged Nairi over to a tall table by a bookshelf.

“You didn’t have to,” said Nairi as she shifted to take a stool on the far side so that the wall was behind her.

Cherry shrugged, dropping her wallet and phone on the tabletop before sitting across from her, kicking her booted feet back up onto the stool’s brace bar. “It’d be a pretty shitty way to pay you back for dinner, making you put out for brunch as well,” she said, poking her tongue out at Nairi.

Nairi wasn’t sure what to say to that and she fiddled with a loose thread in her cuff for several long moments. Eventually it got too awkward for her to bear, and she shifted. “Makes sense.”

“Aren’t you hot in that?” asked Cherry, crossing her arms on the table in front of her. Weirdly enough the only jewellery she was wearing was a small gold cross on a chain, no rings or bracelets. If Nairi had taken a second to think about how Cherry would dress off the job, this wouldn’t have been it.

She shrugged instead of answering the question.

“No, seriously,” said Cherry, her grin twitching a little at the corners. “I know it’s still a bit windy after midnight, but it’s still July, it’s like a hundred degrees out right now! How are you in long sleeves?”

“I just prefer it,” said Nairi, shrugging again. She felt an itch in the middle of her back, right between her shoulders, the way she did when someone was staring at her. There was only wall there. She resisted the urge to turn around and check anyway. “It’s light, you know, whatever.”

Cherry looked like she was going to push a little harder, but thankfully their food arrived and cut her off. Did it still count as brunch when it was nearly noon already? Either way, Cherry was thoroughly distracted, smiling sunnily at the cheerful girl with dreads and facial piercings who set their order across the table. Nairi had been given two glasses; both thick and squat, one filled with ice in deference to the weather.

Cherry sliced open one of the muffins, blueberry, and picked up the butter dish, waggling her eyebrows at Nairi over the mason jar that contained her iced mocha. “This place is a little… more than I was expecting.”

“It’s very… lush,” said Nairi, flicking her eyes to one side to give a hanging fern a deliberate look.

Cherry stifled an ugly snort, her head ducking as she pushed the muffins towards Nairi. “At least it’s interesting,” she said, hooking a hand around her jar of coffee. “Come on, tell me how the hippie tea is.”

Nairi poured a small cup of it out and took a careful sip, raising an eyebrow. “Organic,” she said. It actually wasn’t bad; a little woody and over steeped, but she was used to that at least.

Cherry took a long sip through her straw, eyebrow arched in return as she looked at Nairi through her eyelashes, then grimaced, leaning back. “Oh, that’s soy milk and straight cacao, I think this might be a vegan place.”

“Good to know,” said Nairi, smiling a little without thinking about it as Cherry picked up her half of the blueberry muffin.

“Are you vegan?” asked Cherry, tearing the muffin into chunks. “Or do you just like veggies for tempura?”

“Just vegetarian,” said Nairi, drinking more tea. “Don’t like meat. Milk and stuff is fine.”

“Don’t like violence against animals but you’re perfectly happy doling out a little of your own in the dark of the night?” teased Cherry, washing down her bites with more mocha.

“I have the black belts, I may as well put them to good use,” said Nairi with another awkward shrug, wishing she could get comfortable.

“’Belts’, huh? You know other stuff, not just Judo?”

Nairi hummed. “Krav Maga and Muay Thai as well. Belts or rankings and colours aren’t universal in different arts, but more people know what they generally mean, so, you know. My Muay school used armbands.”

Cherry nodded, one of her legs kicking the air under her stool. “Yeah? Do you teach those too or just Judo?”

“All three. I only have real students for Judo, though.”

“What makes someone a real student?”

“Showing up?”

Cherry snorted again, her hand flying to her mouth but not quite managing to hide her grin. “You don’t pull your punches anywhere, do you?”

Nairi shrugged again, not really sure how to take that.

Cherry seemed to find it an acceptable response anyway, openly watching Nairi with a fascinated expression. “Can I ask you something weird?”

“Sure,” said Nairi. It wasn’t like she could get more uncomfortable.

“So, like, ‘Nairi’ isn’t a super common name, and you seem proficient and reasonably scary,” said Cherry, peeling the paper away from another muffin as she watched Nairi indirectly. “And like, I keep my ears to the ground you know—or, well, fuck, okay, I occasionally end up in bed or working with people who have, uh, other hobbies cops might be interested in—”

Nairi wasn’t a hundred percent certain where she was going with this, but she tensed regardless, her expression relaxing into cool neutral.

If Cherry noticed, it didn’t stop her. “—Anyway, you wouldn’t happen to be the same Nairi who scared off the guys making meth a couple of blocks from here, would you?”

…Well, that wasn’t good, but it was leagues away from the worst thing she could have said. “I think I had a conversation with them,” she said politely, eyes flicking down to watch Cherry’s hands on the tabletop. She took a moment to consider and then added: “Sorry if that’s made one of your… ‘hobbies’ more difficult for you.”

Cherry snorted again and shook her head, looking distinctly unbothered. “Nah, not for me. I have a hard enough time making rent without that shit.”

She was still smiling.

Cherry swallowed her muffin and took a more gratuitous sip of her mocha, shifting how she was leaning on the table and looking up at Nairi properly again. “So you’re like, new in town right? Don’t know a lot of people yet?”

“What gave me away?” said Nairi, blinking at her.

“Just a feeling,” said Cherry, her cheeks dimpling as she polished off her drink. She climbed to her feet, tucking her wallet away, but flipping open her phone. “Do you wanna do this again some time? Like, I mean, tomorrow even if you want. I can come by earlier so we don’t run up against your opening, or we could grab food after you close for the day?”

“I—sure?” said Nairi, her mouth answering for her while she tried to process the abrupt change of gears. “I mean, what?”

“Catching up, getting to know each other, being friendly?” said Cherry brightly, shifting a little closer to Nairi. “You’ve got your dojo to open today and I need to clock some time at my day job, but I’d love to get to know you better, show you round town, introduce to some friends, even?”

Nairi only just managed to swallow the ‘Why?’ that was about to trip off her tongue. “Okay,” she said slowly. “I’d uh, yeah I’d like that?”

“Great!” said Cherry, holding out her phone with the screen open to a ‘new contact’ entry. “What��s your number?”

[hellfirenacht]

The Convention Fic Chapter 3

First Chapter

Note: This is where it starts to get a little spicy. 

Friday (Afternoon)

You woke up a few short hours later. The alarm you set blasted a song that you had hoped would get you pumped up and ready to get out of bed, but instead just sent a jolt through your body followed by a moment of annoyance as you reached out from under the covers and groped the nightstand looking for your phone. You hit the snooze button and attempted to get a few more moments of sleep, but it seemed that every time you closed your eyes the alarm would start up again. 

Giving up, you managed to drag yourself out of bed and glance at the clock. It was a little past noon, a bit late for your liking but you knew that this weekend you would have to conform your sleep schedule to a completely unpredictable man. From there you set yourself into your morning routine; a quick shower, teeth, hair, make-up (allowing yourself to go a little more daring than usual, it being a convention and all), and pulling on your outfit for the day. 

“I’m up.” you typed out. “Headed down soon.” 

 “ILL MEET U IN THE LOBBY!!” was the reply a few minutes later. 

You reached into your suitcase and pulled out a notebook and an old but sturdy backpack. The Notebook was a plain spiral notebook with the words “CON SURVIVAL GUIDE” written in Sharpie on the front. It was in here that you had written down everything you needed for the weekend- from Beej’s schedule, to panels you wanted to catch, to general facts that would help you survive such a hectic weekend. 

The first page had a list of everything you needed to bring with you on the con floor and you went through and packed the backpack carefully. Bottled water, wallet, sturdy folder, the convention schedule pamphlet, portable charging station for your phone, and extra batteries (pre-charged) for Beej’s camera. 

It may have been a bit overkill, but better than sorry. 

After double checking that you had your phone, room key, and badge you were finally ready to head down to the lobby of the hotel, where your dear friend was waiting for you. 

As soon as you stepped off the elevator he was right by your side and shoving something in your face. Still tired, it took a moment for you to register what was going on when he spoke. 

“I got you coffee!” he said proudly. “And a bagel!” 

The small bag and cup he was holding was suddenly in your hands, and it took another moment to register what to do with the items before the sweet smell wafting from the cup alerted your three functioning brain cells. You looked at the cup and took a long drink. Holy shit, how did he nail your coffee order so perfectly? 

You looked him dead in the eyes. “I love you.” you blurted out before you could stop yourself. “Thank you!” you added quickly, trying to play off the first part. 

He smirked, but his eyes made it clear that he was very proud of himself. “So you drop your pants when I walk you home and you declare your love when I get you coffee. Damn, I’m just too sexy aren’t I?” he laughed. 

“The sexiest.” you agreed, taking another sip of coffee. “But really, thank you. I needed this.” 

“Well you know, I did keep you up all night.” he said with his eyebrows wiggling. You just laughed. 

“Oh baby, you know it.” 

“Excuse you,” he said leaning in close, making your half-dead brain fritz out momentarily. “I’m not Baby. I’m Daddy.” 

Your body suddenly felt very warm, starting from your cheeks and moving all the way down to the pit of your stomach. Hey now, that wasn’t fair. It was way too early and you were way too tired for him to be making comments like that. Oh no, he was smirking at you and clearly pleased with this reaction. No. There was no way you were going to allow your crush to flirt with you and have the satisfaction of knowing what it did do to you. 

“Papa, please.” you said in a monotone voice. “Father do not be mad that I disobeyed. Pater, I will be an obedient child.”

Beej doubled over laughing at your retort, as if it were the funniest thing he’d ever heard.

“Oh man, that was good!” he laughed. “Reminds me when I played that one game that had a confessional-” 

“And everyone in the chat kept saying stuff like ‘Daddy I was a bad girl, please forgive me?’”

“-And everyone would say that instead of ‘Forgive me, Father for I have sinned’!” 

You were both laughing now as you headed to the convention hall, flashing your badges at staff as you passed through a few checkpoints. As you started to become more alert, you found yourself feeling more at ease. You had worried that meeting up with him again would make you feel more nervous about what had happened last night, but standing next to him and laughing about inside jokes made all your fears melt away. 

By the time your coffee was finished and your bagel was safely in your stomach, the two of you found yourselves back on the lowest level of the convention hall. The room seemed so much larger in the day, now that the dealers room and artist ally were open. Around you, nerds of all shapes and sizes were buzzing around booths and taking pictures and chatting excitedly. Through the chaos though, there seemed to be a rhythm and flow to the hall as you and Beej stopped to take it all in. 

“Man, this place is huge!” Beej said, gawking at all the people and taking your hand. “Better hold this for safety.” 

You didn’t resist or pull away, allowing his hand to grasp yours. Even in a warmer room, his hands felt cool against yours, and knowing that he wasn’t going to just disappear into the crowd made you feel safe and secure. 

“So, artist ally or dealers hall first?” you asked. 

“Artist ally!” he said happily. “I got to see a few booths last night before you showed up, but now that I have more time I wanna see everything!” 

And so off the two of you went, weaving through the crowds of people towards the side of the room that held all of the artists. Never once did his hand let go of yours except to occasionally take a picture of or with another cosplayer. 

“So what’s with the backpack, doll?” he asked. “You plan on going on a hike?”

“It’s just my con bag.” you shrugged. “It’s got everything I need for the day so that I don’t need to go back to the hotel room too often.” 

“Nerd.” he teased in a playful way. 

“As your official handler I believe it’s my job to be a nerd right now.” you replied. 

“Oh? You got something in there that can shut me up?” he asked, giving you a look that was way too intense to just be playful banter. Why was this happening? You wanted to say something back, something equally as intense, it was on the tip of your tongue before you pulled it back in. This wasn’t the time, and you weren’t even sure what was really going through his mind when he said these things. Besides, what if you were just looking too far into this and this was just more playful banter? It wasn’t exactly like he didn’t say things like this all the time on stream or in chats to all his fans. 

“Yeah, I got a bottle of holy water in there.” you joked. “Figured that if you started really acting like a demon then I’d spray you like a cat with it.”

The intense look on his face disappeared and he was laughing again, allowing you to relax for the moment. He sure did like to keep you on your toes, didn’t he? It wasn’t a secret that Beej was a huge flirt, but you couldn’t help but wonder what he’d think if he knew what he did to you. How your heart skipped every time he paid attention to you, or how it sent a thrill up your spine every time his hand found yours, or how your brain stopped when he said he was going to take you on a-

Oh. Shit. He said something about a date yesterday and then ran away, didn’t he? 

The two of you were casually wandering from booth to booth when that realization hit you. Beej was happily looking at a booth filled with dead looking plushies, looking way more excited than you would have expected. 

“Hey Beej-” you started, but he suddenly turned to you with a smile. 

“Hey Doll, I’m gonna need to ask you a favor and go to literally any other booth right now.” he said. 

“What?”

“Shoo!” His arms were around you suddenly, picking you up by your torso, walking away a few steps, and dropping you by a random booth. 

“You stay there for a bit, mk?” he said before hurrying back to the plushie booth, leaving you confused and alone for the moment. For someone who had been acting so clingy, he sure was pushy. 

Staying close to the booth where Beej was, you poked around some other booths admiring the different crafts from each person. It really was amazing the kinds of art that the nerd community came up with; from burnt wood portraits of famous anime stills, to resin charms and decoden accessories, to prints, to buttons. Everything clearly had a lot of love put into it, each artist having a passion for what they did and the fandoms they were in. 

A hand fell on your shoulder and you turned to see Beej back with a huge smile on his face. “Ready to continue, doll?” he asked. 

“Sure.” you said, taking his hand again. “So are you gonna tell me why you suddenly abandoned me on the side of the road?”

“It’s a surprise!” he said. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Beej, with you I’m always worried about it.” you replied with a slight laugh. 

The conversation continued across the artist ally and well into the dealers hall. The next few hours  were filled with checking out different booths, shoving weird Japanese candy into your faces and just chatting. At one point the two of you wondered outside to grab some lunch from the food trucks that had been set up, but then you both ended up back in the lowest level of the convention hall.

“Focus.. Focus... dammit I hate my phone. FOCUS. Oh, there it is.” you said, pointing your camera at your friend who was sitting on the floor at the edge of the giant room. In one hand he held a bottle of ramune and his other was raised and ready to strike. 

“WHATS UP NERDS!” yelled Beej. “So apparently there’s a soda in Japan that you have to beat up before drinking it. I don’t know about you guys but that sounds exactly like my kind of energy! Babes, count me down!”

“Three... two... two and a-”

SMACK

“ONE” he cackled, before bringing the soda up to taste it. “YUP. That’s strawberry flavored soda! But I got to slap it around before tasting it, which is a favorite pastime of mine”  he winked at the camera. 

“Aaaaand now you’re de-monitized.” you laughed. 

“Small price to pay for comedy, toots.” he said, standing up and taking another sip. 

You stopped recording and put your phone away. “How you manage to make a living off this with all the bullshit you pull, I’ll never understand. And don’t say-”

“I don’t need to make a living- I’m dead!” you both finished together; him with a shit eating grin and you sighing and rolling your eyes. 

“I get by.” he shrugged. “I don’t have many bills to pay and since Lydia set up that Patreon it’s been easy.” 

The two of you wondered back into the dealers hall, by now it was late afternoon and there was a noticeable dip in the crowd as congoers started to leave for dinner. By no means was it empty, but it was a little easier to get around. Looking at your phone, you noticed that the dealers hall would only be open for another hour and a half. 

“Ohh, hey doll let’s check out that booth!” Beej said with sudden enthusiasm in his voice. He led you towards a booth that you were surprised that you missed the first time around. In the middleof the dealers hall was a large leather working booth, covered in corsets, battle armor, masks, and journals. 

He let go of your hand as he started poking around the booth, and you drifted over towards the journals and pouches. On the inside you were swooning over how beautiful everything was, and the smell of leather made you feel warm. Picking up a few journals, you thumbed threw them and examined the price carefully. You had spent a lot of money to get here, but your budget DID allow you some money for these kinds of things. 

You found yourself holding onto a thick journal, the simple cover had a strap wrapped around it to keep it closed. You were in love. 

“It’s refillable.” One of the men running the booth hinted. “You can take the cover and move it to another journal if you fill it up.”

“I... I want this.” you said, holding it close and imagining everything you could fill it with. 

Within a few moments, you were happily placing the journal in your backpack. It was then that Beej called you over. 

“Come here doll, I wanna see something.” he said, his voice was sweet but his eyes and smile hinted at something a little more dangerous. 

You walked towards him and the woman that he was talking to. She was tall and covered in leather, her eyeliner sharp and her lips bright red. 

You suddenly felt a little warm under the gaze of the two very attractive people looking at you. But her soft, friendly smile felt reassuring. 

“Your friend wanted a demonstration of these.” she said, holding up a thick pair of leather wrist cuffs. “May I?”

Oh. 

Oh.

Your cheeks quickly flushed the same color as her lipstick but you still nodded and held out your hands for her to attach them. The leather was thick and sturdy, but the inside was lined with a very soft fur. You didn’t hate the feeling. 

Then she clasped the two together and started with her sales pitch. How the leather was sourced, how sturdy it was, how it came with a lifetime guarentee, the different ways you could use the cuffs to tie a partner up (they were also very good ankle cuffs!). With every new piece of information she was jerking your hands around, locking and unlocking you in different ways, and explaining everything in detail. It was all surprisingly professional, considering what she was talking about. Not once did you feel uncomfortable (a little embarrassed maybe, but not uncomfortable). 

Then she brought out the leash, explaining that how to attach the leash to the cuffs, and the safe way to use a collar and leash. She ended her explanation by telling the two of you if you bought the set (cuffs, collar, and leash), there would be a discount for buying at the con instead of online. 

When you were finally free of the cuffs, Beej was snickering at you and you were thinking about all the ways you would get him back for this little stunt. Then he did something that shouldn’t have surprised you as much as it did. 

He pulled out a credit card and purchased a set on the spot. If your cheeks were hot before, you were nearly having a heat stroke now. The wink the Beej sent your way did not help either, sending a shiver down your spine. 

Was.. was he actually planning on using this on you?

No, no, no way. Nope. You were not going to entertain that thought. Yes he was flirting with you hard, and yeah you were flirting with him back, and yeah he had used the word date and yeah you very much would not mind the idea of wearing those cuffs in private-

You were learning quite a lot about yourself this weekend. 

The sleek black and white leather set was carefully tucked into a bag and the booth owners thanked you both for the purchase. Beej took your warm hand and he started leading you out of the dealers hall for the day. By now it was a little past six, and the dealers hall would be closing soon. 

“Well I don’t know about you, but that was a lot of fun!” he said, giving you his shit eating grin. 

“I’m surprised you actually bought a set.” you replied, trying to play off how flustered you were about what happened. 

“Well she was so convincing and you were so cute wearing those cuffs, how could I resist?” he fired back. God, this man was going to actually be the death of you this weekend. 

Once you two were back on the main floor of the convention center he pulled you to the side and looked at you. “I got you something.” he said. 

“Do I get to keep one of the cuffs?” you asked with a sheepish smile, still trying to play everything off. 

“Not quite.” he replied and reached into another bag that he’d been carrying around. He pulled out a small stuffed animal- something that you recognized from a booth this morning. It was a small striped animal, covered in fake blood, with an eyeball missing, and some bone sticking out. A dead hyena plushie. It was oddly fitting. 

“Beej,” you gasped quietly. “Beej, he’s adorable!” you took the plush from him and gave it a squeeze. “Thank you so much...!”

His smile grew wide and he was starting to squirm. “There’s something else. I uh...” he dove his hands into his pockets and pulled out two pieces of very crumpled up paper. “I want to go on a date with you tonight.” he said and shoved the two pieces of paper in your hands as well. 

MOMO CON PRESENTS: NIGHT AT THE AQUARIUM! ADMIT 1 + AFTER PARTY

“Beej...!” you gasped and looked up at him. “Beej, I thought this was sold out...!”

“Yeah well, perks of being a guest.” he replied. “So uh... do you want to do this as a date?” He was staring at you intensely and you realized just how serious he was. The words caught in your throat for a moment before-

“I’d love to!” you smiled wide at him. “I gotta drop some stuff in my room but yes! Yes I’d love to go on a date with you!” 

His smile was a mile wide as he picked you up and spun you around like he had done the previous evening. “Hell yes! I’m going on a date with the hottest nerd here!” he whooped and laughed. 

“Oh my god, Beej.” you couldn’t stop smiling though, your heart racing. “Come on, let’s go back to my room so I can get ready.” 

And off the two of you went, both of you smiling like idiots as you realize that this was actually happening. Maybe you wouldn’t kill him for that stunt after all. 

Maybe.

Next Chapter

[permanentcrossfics]

Blurred Lines // h.s.

“You’ve worn makeup plenty,” you said. “Haven’t they ever taken it off you before?”

“Not like this,” he murmured.

Your wrists tickled his nose and he hardly dared to breathe in case it threw off the tender, careful way you were touching him. “There we go,” you cooed. “That’s much better.”

“Can I open?”

“Not yet. Just a couple seconds more.”

“Did you get a new perfume?” Harry asked.

“Hmm?”

“S’just….” Christ, how was he going to get a foot like that out of his mouth? “Y’smell nice or summat.”

You didn’t say anything and again heat bloomed in his face.“Probably my moisturizer,” you said. Was it him or were you breathless? “Don’t move.”

Read NOW on Patreon // Tumblr // Wattpad

The shoot had gone late, so he was running late. When you’d said he could come over at six — that you’d be back from the gym and all cleaned up — he knew he should have suggested seven at the very earliest. Between the traffic to Brooklyn and the traffic out, he was fucked, but he’d been in town for nearly a week and hadn’t seen you once. If there was anything that made him look forward to coming here, it was you. Six was too early, but he’d do anything to spend a few more hours with you before he had to jet off, literally. And then the shoot had run late, which was why he was still scrubbing his face to try to get the black off his eyes, but all that seemed to do was make him look like Gemma after she and her first boyfriend split.

Good enough. It would have to do. His hair was still crunchy from spray and other products, but most of the makeup was gone and probably, hopefully, wouldn’t even be all that noticeable anyway. What he wouldn’t give to be able to use the damn subway to beat the traffic, but he clambered into the back of the town car all the same and his leg bounced the whole way over the bridge. He’d already asked the driver to take him to a new address instead — he’d pay the same, he swore — and when he pulled up in front of your building, he said goodnight in a way that made it clear he wasn’t coming down again.

You buzzed him in nearly instantly, and when he got to your floor, your door was propped open with a book.

“Pretty sure this isn’t what I wanted you to do with this,” he said, holding the door open while bending to pick it up.

“Pretty sure I can do whatever I—“

He stood to his full height, butterflies bursting in his stomach at the first sight of you he was getting in nearly a month and a half. You had on a t-shirt and pajama shorts and your eyes were sparkling, but when he started to smile, you laughed and gave him a look that had the tips of his ears burning.

“Are you…?”

“What?” Harry huffed, locking the door and throwing the chain on.

Eyebrows high on your forehead and mouth quirked, you shook your head. “Nothing, it’s just… I just….”

“What?”

“You’ve got—“ You gestured around your eyes and he pursed his lips, face hot.

“Still?”

You nodded.

“S’funny,” he said. “Took it off, so—“

“With what? A blade of grass?”

You laughed and he had the distinct feeling this was the least cool he’d ever felt in front of someone he fancied.

“Whatever they gave me,” he said. “I had a shoot.”

“I figured,” you said. “Though I wouldn’t hate it if you told me you were trying this out.”

You wouldn’t?

He tucked that piece of information away. Later….

“Your eyes are red,” you said.

“Scrubbed,” he said. “Really did try to get it all….”

You held your hands out and he stared.

“Come,” you said softly. You wiggled your fingers. “I wanna show you.”

He set the book on the table just inside your flat before taking your hands and you pulled him into the bathroom. You tapped the light on and he winced from the brightness but chortled immediately upon catching sight of himself.

“Well,” he said, blinking furiously as his eyes adjusted. “Yeah. Guess I didn’t get much of it, did I?”

Under the harsh fluorescents, he could see exactly how bad off he was. His eyes were red, and the black looked like he’d run a sharpie around but had gotten lazy and hadn’t bothered finishing the job to wash it off. His hair was another mess entirely, but that at least wasn’t new.

“Take your jacket off,” you said, pulling a basket out from underneath your sink. He shook it off his shoulders while you rummaged and examined a few bottles and pots. “Do you want to take your shirt off?” you asked. “Could get messy.”

His light blue button up and his newly acquired Led Zeppelin t-shirt were next, and suddenly, he was back on set. He stared at himself, hair mussed, makeup smudged, tattooed skin full of goosebumps, and he had to admit if he were you, he’d laugh, too.

“Come here,” you murmured. Harry’s eyes narrowed on your fingers, which were full of… something.

“What’s that?”

“Cleansing oil,” you said. “It won’t hurt.”

You hooked your wrists around his shoulders to draw him closer and he snapped his eyes shut just before your fingers made contact. He swayed before grasping your hips, and he held firmly as you rubbed the gentlest circles over his eyes.

“You’ve worn makeup plenty,” you said. “Haven’t they ever taken it off you before?”

“Not like this,” he murmured.

Your wrists tickled his nose and he hardly dared to breathe in case it threw off the tender, careful way you were touching him.

“There we go,” you cooed. “That’s much better.”

“Can I open?”

“Not yet. Just a couple seconds more.”

“Did you get a new perfume?” Harry asked.

“Hmm?”

“S’just….” Christ, how was he going to get a foot like that out of his mouth? “Y’smell nice or summat.”

You didn’t say anything and again heat bloomed in his face.

“Probably my moisturizer,” you said. Was it him or were you breathless? “Don’t move.”

Your fingers were gone first and then you were, too, and he was standing blind and untethered in your bathroom. A cupboard shut and then the tap turned on, and seconds later a warm, wet washcloth was over his eyes. He flinched and you snickered under your breath but wiped slowly — all along his undereyes, his inner corners, and across his lids.

“You can open.”

Harry blinked rapidly as you washed the cloth in the sink, peering critically through blurry eyes. Huh. Well, yeah. He supposed that was better.

“Thanks,” he said.

“We’re not done,” you said. You turned a bottle over onto a cotton pad and a thin stream of clear liquid squirted onto it.

“S’that?”

“Micellar water.” You glanced at him and he must have looked suspicious, because you clarified. “Takes off the rest,” you said. “Close your eyes.”

“Does it burn?”

You snorted. “No,” you said in such a way that he had no choice but to trust you. “Close your eyes.”

He did as you asked and the hair on the back of his neck stood on end when, just before the cotton pad touched his skin, you whispered, “I wouldn’t hurt you,” under your breath. Hands on your hips again, he held firm as you swiped the pad repeatedly.

You had to have swapped it at some point, because there was a gap in your care before you resumed, and when you uttered a small, “Open,” he did so, rolling his eyes around to clear them out. You smiled — a shy, warm, close-lipped one — and twisted your torso without pulling out of his grasp to get a bottle with a pump out of the basket.

“Do you want to do this part?” you asked.

“What is it?”

“Just face wash.”

“Oh.” He looked at the pink gel in the bottle. “You can do it. F’you wanna.”

You smirked but dispensed a good amount onto your fingertips and set the bottle down before rubbing circles on the apples of his cheeks.

“Did you shave?” you asked.

“I did,” he said.

“I can tell.”

You rubbed down and around his chin and jawline and then up over his forehead. “Have to close your eyes again,” you said. “Just in case.”

He waited until the last second, and after a few light swipes of your fingers, the washcloth was back. As soon as you’d run it over his eyes, he popped them open, and when you’d finished his cheeks, he asked, “Done?”

“Almost.” You smiled coyly and touched the tip of his nose. “Gotta do this right.”

You picked up a bottle and, like the… that other thing you’d rubbed on him before (water something), you turned it over onto a cotton pad.

“What’s this do?” he asked.

“Cleans everything up,” you said. “Makes it so your skin doesn’t freak out.” The cap snapped when you closed it. “You really can’t be this clueless about it all.”

“Have to close my eyes?” he asked.

“No.”

“Good.”

He watched you as you drew the cotton pad around his face. Every now and then, your eyes met his, but you averted your gaze almost immediately each time.

“What now?” he asked when you tossed it away. You picked up a little pot and unscrewed the top to reveal an unsettlingly pink, granular contents.

“Your lips are a little dry,” you said. “I could feel them.” You dipped your finger in and rubbed it around before holding it up. “Come here.”

Harry leaned in and you closed the rest of the distance. You scrubbed all over his lips and he pursed them with a slight frown before his eyebrows rose in surprise when you leaned in and planted the smallest kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“Lick it off,” you said. “It’s sugar.”

He did as you asked, eyes locked on a cluster of granules at the side of your mouth, but you’d licked it away before he could make good on his thought.

“There,” you said at last. “Much better.”

“Thank you,” he said. “For your help.”

You smiled wanly and it looked like you were going to say something, but whatever it was, the cat got to it first.

“Might shower, f’that’s ok,” he said. “Get all this out of my hair.”

“Sure,” you said. “Can use my shampoo.”

“Wasn’t gonna ask.” Harry grinned. “Figured I’d just take it.”

You huffed but settled some when he touched your chin with his thumb. He stroked the underside of it with his forefinger and you closed your eyes. “How long are you here for?”

“Flight’s at four.”

Your eyes flew open, and even though he had no reason to feel guilty….

“In the morning?”

“Been trying to see you all week,” he said quietly.

“I know, but—” You pressed your lips together and paused. “So you’ll shower and head out?”

He ducked his head some, but you blinked evenly.

“Can stay for a bit,” he said. “Bags are packed. Just have to head back and grab them.”

You nodded and squeezed his wrists, stepping back. “I’ll let you get to it.”

You were upset, but what could he do about it? He’d tried to get to you sooner, but you’d been busy. The timing was just…. It was just what it was every time, wasn’t it? It was why things were this way to begin with.

He turned the shower on and stripped, testing the water before he got in and dunked his head under the spray. He groaned, eyes closed, and let the hot water sink into his hair until it was soaked to his scalp, and it was then he squeezed some of your shampoo out. He scrubbed as thoroughly as he could in his haste, and after a few brief runs of soap around his body, he shut the water off and grabbed a towel off the rack just outside the shower.

When he joined you in your bedroom, you were on top of your bedspread, the book you’d propped the front door open with in hand, and your window thrown wide with the curtains wound up in hopes of tempting a breeze to blow through. You glanced up and your mouth quirked.

“Looking better.”

“Yeah?”

You nodded, bending one leg to make room for him to sit on the edge of the bed, and he did so with a groan.

“Can’t pull these long days anymore,” he said and you chuckled.

“Body’s not the same?”

“Not really.”

“Shame,” you sighed. “Guess you should get going then.”

He smirked and you turned a page.

“I didn’t hate that other look, you know,” you said, and he grinned wider.

“Might’ve mentioned something about that.” He wrapped his hand around your ankle and pulled your foot closer, pressing his thumbs in, and instantly, your eyes rolled up. “Good?” he asked and you nodded.

He kneaded up and down the sole of your foot, watching your chest rise and fall slowly, until….

“I thought we had more time,” you said.

He ran his thumb deep through the center of your foot and your throat bobbed before you went on.

“I didn’t know you were leaving tonight.”

“Been calling since Wednesday,” he reminded you.

“Yeah, but—” You clamped your mouth and huffed, and his skin prickled when you turned your shining eyes towards the ceiling and his own dropped to where his hands were busy. He didn’t want to see you cry — he couldn’t stand it, and if you did….

“I’ll be back,” he said, fingers white underneath his nails from how intently he was pressing. “Maybe you’ll pick up next time.”

He’d meant it as a joke but you gulped visibly and his fingers stopped. “Hey.” He floundered after that, though, because what else could he say? Anything more was a promise he might not be able to keep, and he wouldn’t do that to you or to himself. Licking his lips, he said, “Hauled my ass across Brooklyn lookin’ like a clown t’spend time with you — little bit’s better than nothing, right?”

You laughed, a watery sound, but it eased the mounting pressure in his chest. “Why don’t you come here and give me a kiss?” he asked. “Been waiting a long time for that.”

Almost immediately, you closed your book and turned onto your knees to crawl close enough to throw your leg over his waist, and he grasped your ass firmly when you cupped his cheeks. Your lashes were damp and clumped together, but you leaned in before he could work out whether he should say something or not. Soft, sweet, and a little restrained, warmth flooded him and he swallowed a groan. A month and a half too long, and he had no idea when he’d be back for sure, but he would do anything to get any time at all. He’d even show up with all his makeup on if it got you to love him like that.

You wrapped one arm around his neck and he leaned back, rolling you both over in the process so he was sprawled half on top of you. His towel had fallen open in the process, but you were both far from even pretending to care, and his barely hard cock pressed into the soft, warm, supple skin of your leg when he peppered kisses down your jaw and neck.

His turn to treat you gently.

“S’a good girl,” he slurred. “Missed you... like….” Like what? Caught up in kisses, brow furrowed deep in thought, he couldn’t compare the way he’d missed you to anything or anyone he’d ever missed before. He’d missed you like he’d missed you — deeply, completely, aggravatingly, achingly. Texts with jokes, and memes, and a few lines here and there weren’t enough. Calling you when he was drunk enough — brave enough — just to hear your voice when you mocked him was starting to not do the trick.

Business didn’t bring him here much, though, and outside of that, he’d have to make a point of coming back for you, and that…. Neither of you were ready for that.

“Missed you, too… fuck….”

It was quiet, halfway between a whisper and a groan, but it made his throat close and he pressed his forehead into your breasts over your t-shirt. He’d do anything for a little, but a little wasn’t enough. You wriggled underneath him and it was then he sat up some to let you pull your t-shirt up your torso by the hem. He helped yank it over your head, and when it was off, he cupped one of your breasts and immediately bent to pull a nipple into his mouth. Stiff between his lips, he circled it with his tongue, smirking into your skin when your back arched, and he released it with a wet pop before pressing kisses all over your breast and in the valley between them.

“Harry,” you whispered and he grumbled wordlessly in his throat, refusing to pull his mouth from your skin as he moved down your stomach. His fingers practically shook when he hooked them into the waistband on your shorts and you lifted from the bed to help him get them off. He kissed your bare hip, then, and you dug your hand into the wet hair at the nape of his neck.

“Better,” he said, kissing low on your abdomen. “So much better….” Nose digging in, he opened his mouth and dragged his teeth over your skin, and you tightened your fingers in his hair. “Won’t hurt you,” he mumbled. “Wouldn’t ever hurt you….”

Gently, he drew his fingers over your slit, and he smiled tremulously when the pads of them dipped between your slick folds. Holding his breath, he probed inside you, clenching his jaw when you, in turn, clenched around them. You were hot and wet — his favorite things not just about a cunt, but yours in particular — and you were smooth and seemingly endless. He was up to his knuckles and he was barely reaching all the way inside you. He hooked his fingers and you gasped as he pumped them gently before pulling them out all the way. Wet from knuckle to tip, when he separated them, a string of you pulled between them in a way that went straight to his balls. His mouth watered and he only just slipped them into his mouth before you were tugging him up from underneath his arms. He scrambled clumsily while sucking and stroking his tongue over his fingers in earnest, and you wrapped your legs around his waist to pull him between your thighs just as he let go of them.

“Stop dicking around,” you said, breath hitching and arms draping over his shoulders.

“S’called foreplay, innit?”

“We don’t have— oh…!” Sharp and sudden, you cried out when he pushed inside you, and he struggled to keep his eyes from rolling up so he could watch yours do the same, mouth stretched wide and throat bobbing. “We don’t have time…” you said at last, grunting when he angled his hips and nudged deeper. Just as hot, wet, and smooth as before, but this time he was reaching all the way inside of you without even trying.

And the feeling… Christ, you had no idea how good you felt. When you two had decided to skip condoms, he didn’t remember — but he wasn’t fucking around with anyone else, even with months between, and you weren’t, either. If he only got this now and then, he didn’t want to waste time wrestling with a piece of tinfoil (not that he hadn’t enjoyed the excuse of having your hands on his cock to roll it on), or running to the shop when drawers turned up empty.

“Have as much time as I s-say.” Harry stuttered when he thrust again, having barely pulled out, and you clenched around him, squeezing his cock firmly inside you. “My flight t’miss, innit? F’I wanna fu—”

He shuddered when you strained to land a kiss on his jaw, and he turned his mouth into yours to return it with a searing force. Far from the gentle one you’d given him moments ago -- he wanted to kiss, and he wanted to be kissed. He wanted to feel the shape of your mouth bruised into his when he was sitting bleary-eyed in the lounge waiting for his flight, he wanted to have a reason to have him seriously consider bolting from the airport, he wanted a reason to come back.

He wanted a reason to miss his fucking flight, and he almost — almost — had it.  

“You know how I— how I feel about you?” he said between deep breaths. “Don’t have t’say it, do I?”

You shook your head, sighing when he thrust hard and he stilled momentarily, bringing your leg up higher around his waist.

“Ok,” he said, jaw tight, picking up his pace once more. “Good… good… oh, God….”

He dropped his head into your neck, shuddering from head to toe, and he held tight to you, losing himself in the rhythm he was building. You smelled like sweat, and sex, and him. Good. He’d rub all over you and leave himself behind and take you with him, at least for a little while.

The satisfaction he got at the idea of encountering a fan and having them report to the world on Twitter what he smelled like and knowing it was you they were talking about was immense.

“Ungh!” You grunted and patted his back. “R-roll over.” You patted him again and he groaned. “Roll over, please… please….”

He almost didn’t — he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to stop, he didn’t want to lose the feeling, he didn’t want to put you in a position where he wouldn’t be all over you. But you were whining so underneath him and starting to lift your hips in such a way that he had no choice. He stuttered to as standstill and trembled for a moment before he rolled sideways and brought you with him, still warm and sweaty against him, but heavy now, too. His lip curled when he fell out of you, but your kisses distracted him as you wriggled on top of him before you pushed yourself up on his chest.

“C’mere,” he breathed, eyes on your breasts. “Come, lemme….”

Sighing, you leaned forward, pulling yourself up his body slightly and alleviating some of your weight on his cock while placing yourself at the perfect height for him to latch onto your nipple. You cried out softly and he suckled, laving his tongue in repeated upwards strokes before releasing you with a wet sound.

“Go on, then,” he said, hands on your hips. “Do it yourself.”

Cock in your hand, you held him and he clenched his jaw when you opened over his head and slowly sank down. You took a deep breath above him and he practically spit through his teeth when you bore down on him. You dug your fingers into his chest and closed your eyes, lips parted, before lifting slightly and pushing back on him — slowly, easily, finding a rhythm, and killing him in the process. He exhaled through his nose, but forced himself to at least keep his eyes cracked. A month and a half gone, and who knew how long to go — he wanted to see everything.

Your nipples were pulled taut and your breasts bounced in time with each sway. Every now and then, your mouth opened with the softest, sweetest noises he’d ever heard, and one of your hands strayed to lightly tickle your stomach, your ribs, your nipples, and you shivered when you took extra time to pinch them. Your thighs dimpled slightly under his hold in a way that had his mouth watering with the urge to sink his teeth in, but his attention strayed, continually, to where he could see the base of his cock glistening just under your cunt.

His eyes snapped up when you exhaled sharply through tightly circled lips, head tipped up to the ceiling, neck long and stretched and fingers digging into his chest, under and above tattooed skin. Sweat made your forehead look as slick as your thighs felt in his hold, and he tightened his grip when your legs tensed and your pace picked up to a near frantic speed.

“Yeah?” he whispered. You nodded, shoulders shaking when your breath hitched, and you whined pitifully soft in the base of your throat as you ground against him. Eyes on you, one hand slipped from your hip to between your legs and he braced him his hand on your abdomen to rub your clit with his thumb.

“Oh, God, please…” you whispered and he ground his teeth together. The muscle between his thumb and forefinger cramped slightly but he refused to stop. Just one good one — you deserved that much out of him if it was all he could give you. “Harry, I’m gonna—“

“S’ok!” he said, hand shaking by that point. “You’re ok, you can—“

High, keening cries tumbled from you and you bucked wildly, thighs slick and nails digging and scraping in his chest. You shuddered, mouth wide open, and your shoulders slumped when you slowed, trembling in the aftermath and cunt still fluttering around him, and you pulled weakly. Harry pushed up and you whimpered but he spluttered.

“Please!” He squeezed his eyes shut and gulped. “Please, fuck, m’so close….”

Moaning between tightly closed lips, you rocked on top of him, and this time, he let himself feel the smooth way you moved and each stroke. Not as wild as before, but just enough to make him thrust in time with you. You stilled momentarily and lowered down so your chest was flat against his, and he held your ass with both his hands and guided your motions, never stopping his hips.

“Oh, please…” he said with barely moving lips. “Fuck, I wanna cum… I wanna… I want, I—-“

His pleas got progressively fainter and you placed kisses all over his neck, chin, jaw, shoulder that had his mouth opening and closing uselessly, wanting one but incapable of asking.

“Shit!”

He clamped down so hard on your ass he felt his knuckles pop, and he pushed up so firmly a long cramp pulled in the back of his leg, but he was cumming — thick, long, strong spurts that left him blind and nearly throwing you off if he didn’t have you so tightly held in his own two hands.

Cum in her cum in her cum in her. Leave that behind, too.

He exhaled through his nose, ugly and harsh, and when his muscles gave out, he lay there wheezing, fingers still grappling your ass. You were still kissing him, but now you were searching higher, and when you found his mouth, he groaned quietly and moved as best he could to return it.

“Jus’ gimme a m-minute and I can go again,” he said and you laughed softly.

“Ok.”

One minute, two minutes, twenty, a hundred. You rolled off him, both of you repositioned, you made him a coffee to keep him alert, and he hunted through your fridge for scraps of food like a dog before handing you his card to have a takeaway delivered from that Mexican place he liked.

“Not sure this is the best thing to eat before a transatlantic flight,” you said but he waved you off. When it came, he lured you back to bed with the excuse of not wanting to get his balls all over your sofa, but really? He just wanted a reason to keep you naked. You could talk without clothes with the television on low. Only the thought that this could be what it was like all the time had him retreating into a broody spell, but you pulled him out of it when you offered him a lime wedge.

You surprised him most of all when, after the food was cleared, you slid closer and wound your legs with his and settled on his chest. After the initial shock had worn off, he wrapped his arms around you and cradled you close, absorbing your chuckles into his chest. It was around one in the morning when you finally dozed off, and he spent the next half hour agonizing over whether to wake you or not. Even at this hour with the city’s scant traffic he’d be cutting it close, though, and he slowly, bit by bit, pulled himself free from you. He watched you for any sign of alertness as he pulled his clothes on again, and it was only when he was about done that he knew he had to be the one to do it if he wanted to give you both a chance to say goodbye.

“Hey….” He ran his knuckles over the back of your cheek. “M’gonna go now, yeah?”

You blinked and nodded but grasped his hand hard.

“See you next time.”

You nodded again and kept his hand held fast. He let you, too, but when your breathing started to even out again, he shook it some.

“Gotta go,” he said and his heart swelled painfully when your brow furrowed and you whined. “Be back.” He kissed your forehead several times at the hairline. “Love—“

“Mmm….” You stretched, eyes closed, and shook as if pulled by a string before collapsing. “You too.”

Harry stared, and when you opened your eyes, you smiled thinly. “Go.”

One kiss more and you let go of him to roll away, and he stood without looking back, because if he did, he’d miss his flight for sure.

Until next time.