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[abloomrealty]

[wiypt-writes]

Murder, He Wrote

Part 7

Summary: Ransom makes good on his promise and your parents arrive for dinner. But then, you discover something that brings your entire world shattering down around you once more…

Warnings: Bad language words. MATURE (NSFW 18+) NON-CON situation, kidnap and violence. DO NOT READ IF ANY OF THOSE TRIGGER… READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!!!

Pairing: DARK! Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/N:  So here it is, the last chapter to this series! I can’t believe all this spun from @jtargaryen18​‘s Halloween challenge last year, and here we are 6 months later! Of course, I’d love to thank my writing partner from the earlier chapters, but sadly she’s no longer on Tumblr. Without her none of this would have been possible. I love you SG wherever you are. Thank you to everyone who has read and engaged so far and I hope you’ve enjoyed it as much as I’ve enjoyed writing. The Epilogue will follow next week and trust me, you do NOT want to miss that!!

In this, the reader has a sister, however feel free to interpret the Y/S/N element as sibling instead, if that appeals to you.

Word Count: 8.5k (I’m sorry I don’t do short fics, really I am!!)

READ THE WARNINGS!!!! This is a DARK Series… don’t @ me if you can’t follow simple instructions and end up with butt-hurt. And if you’re under 18…get off my blog.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and by writing it does NOT mean I agree with or condone the acts contained within. This fiction is classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar reader and any other OCs that may or may not be mentioned. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Murder, He Wrote Masterlist // Main Masterlist.

Part 6

 “Will you relax?” Ransom drawled from where he sat, sprawled back on the sofa in the main lounge of the house, his denim clad legs crossed at the ankles, his black cashmere sweater torso melting against the cushions. “It’s just your parents, what’s the big deal?” You weighed your reply but instead smiled, he couldn't possibly understand. He wouldn't. "Let me just have this moment, please." He looked at you, his eyebrow arched before he scoffed, “whatever, Sweetheart. But if you’re gonna keep pacing up and down, can you do it in the hallway? The wood flooring is a lot more hardwearing.” With a roll of your eyes you left the lounge, wringing your hands together. This was the first time in months you'd be seeing your parents and it wasn't lost on you the charade you'd have to keep up despite wanting to somehow plea for a rescue. It was also worrying how they were going to react. Especially following the call you’d made a week or so ago, just before New Year’s Eve.

When you’d dialled the number you knew off by heart, your mother had answered. And upon hearing your voice she had shrieked and then the line had gone quiet until your father had spoken your name with a trembling voice. You’d been unable to answer straight away, your own voice catching, before a sob had burst from your throat and the tears had poured down your face. You’d managed a few, choked words of apologies until Ransom had pushed himself up from the seat he had been perched in, silently observing. He curled his arm over your shoulder, giving you a squeeze as you composed yourself. Eventually, you’d managed to calm yourself down and thankfully your dad hadn’t asked too many questions but had accepted your invite to dinner.

And now, here you were, nervously awaiting their arrival.

It wasn’t lost on you that, in their eyes, the fact you had cut them off was your decision, not forced on you by the man you were now sharing a bed with. And that was your other worry, you had no idea how he was going to behave. If Ransom showed your family the same contempt he displayed to his own, your dad wasn’t the type of man who would stand for it. And then what? But you had zero time to think on it as the doorbell rang. Your heart leapt to your throat and your stomach turned acidic. Ransom poked his head out of the lounge and looked at you expectantly, like you were to answer. Adjusting your sweater dress for the millionth time, you walked to the front door and reached for the knob with a shaky hand. You steeled your nerves and blinked hard to dissipate the tears, and opened the door. For the first time in months you looked back into the familiar eyes of your parents. Your mom’s face was pinched, as if she was chewing the inside of her cheeks and as you glanced to your dad you already noticed the daggers he was shooting at the man behind you. To anyone else it would be enough to make them quake in their shoes, but not Ransom. “Mom, Dad.” Your voice sounded alien as you spoke quietly, your fingers grabbing at the bottom of your sleeves as one of Ransom’s hands curled over your shoulder. "Y/N," your dad replied, and the awkwardness officially set in.

"Aren't you going to invite them in, Sweetheart?" Ransom's voice made you jump a bit.

"Yes, please, come in," you stepped aside for them to enter. "Welcome to, erm, our home."

Calling it that felt all sorts of wrong, but you didn’t have time to dwell on it. Besides, it wasn’t like you could call it what it was, your prison. Your father stepped inside followed by your mother, the foyer now feeling a little crowded. Your mother was quick to pull you in for a hug. But it was brief and not the way she used to hug you, no, this hug felt like it came from a stranger. Your dad’s embrace, however, was everything you remembered. Safety, strength and love and you felt yourself melt into his arms, choking back a sob as you pressed your face into his chest. "We appreciate you coming to dinner," Ransom spoke, breaking the embrace you shared with your father. "It's nice to finally meet you both. I'm Ransom." Your dad looked at you as you nodded, wiping the tears from your eyes as he looked to Ransom. “We know who you are. With the news, the papers and Y/N's article, we've probably become more acquainted than you're aware.” He spoke calmly but cooly, gripping Ransom’s outstretched hand with a less than friendly shake, one that would make a lesser man wince. Instead, you saw what you thought was a flicker of amusement on Ransom's face before your dad released his hand and you introduced your mother. She didn’t offer her hand. Instead she gave a sniff and took a deep breath, getting straight to the point as she always did. “Well, this is all very nice and everything but what the hell do you think you’re playing at, Y/N? You disappeared with no trace, we thought you were dead, and then we find out you're not. Instead you’re, with him, choosing not to contact us or speak to us? Forgive me for the brash and abrupt approach, but before we sit down for dinner, we deserve some answers.” Her voice gathered pace and volume as she continued to rail at you, telling you how worried and sick the entire family had been, how thanksgiving and Christmas without you had been awful and whatever else she had on her mind as she spewed her words at you, her face an eyes blazing with anger. You felt sick, never had you meant for any of this to happen, clearly. And you'd secretly hoped Ransom would have seen the devastation he'd caused by his actions, however you knew that was an ill-fated hope just as well. You struggled to speak, the words jumbling around in your head and your mouth bone dry. "I'm so sorry," Ransom sighed. "Why don't we come into the lounge and have a drink or two and we can talk all about it? I know that Y/N was looking forward to your visit and clearing the air."

He looked at you as he ushered towards the lounge, a hidden smugness to his face that only you could detect. He thought he'd just played the hero, the prince saving his distressed princess. “Good idea,” your dad nodded, his hand gently on the base of your mother’s spine, “come on, Honey.” “Straight down, second on your right.” Ransom informed as your parents headed off a little ahead of you.

“Now, remember, what you tell them has to match what you said to Blanc.” Ransom took your hand in his and spoke quietly as you both began to follow your parents. “I. Know.” You grit though your teeth and jerked your hand free of his. He stopped dead and turned to face you, and for the first time ever you saw something akin to fear on his face, you were resisting that much anger. “Y/N...” he started but you shook your head. “You have no idea how much you’ve hurt them or me do you? That or you simply still don’t care.” You hissed before you took a deep breath and drew yourself up tall. “But, we’ll just go in there, spin a load of more lies and that’s it, all done isn’t it?” He blinked before his jaw set and he shook his head. “I’m warning you...” “What else is new?” You sighed. “Don’t worry, I won’t say anything and I’ll still be here when they leave.” You stepped a pace or two in front of him and entered the lounge. Your parents were sitting on the couch you'd become very familiar with while Ransom moved straight for the drink cart. "Mr. Y/L/N, can I interest you in a top shelf scotch?" "Mom," you said softly as the conversation between your dad and Ransom faded out, "Ransom and I have a great white wine if you'd like or..." "Scotch is fine," she interrupted you, a stone cold look to her disappointed face. Ransom served the drinks, handing you your preferred wine with a kiss to your head. You watched how your parents interacted with him, the way your father watched every calculated step, the way your mother shot daggers in the two of you as you sat opposite them on the love seat. You leaned forward so as to move a bit away from Ransom, however, he was quick to put his arm over the back of the love seat, his hand able to still touch you. “So, erm, how’s....” “Your sister? Nanna? Granddad? Who would you like to start with?” Your mom took a sip of her drink and you dropped your eyes, your gaze focussed on your hands as they rubbed together. 

"I'm sorry, okay?” You stuttered, shaking your head. “I know you’re angry and upset and you have every right to be but... I didn’t do any of this on purpose.” “That detective man, Blanc, and the police... they said you didn’t want us to know where you were...” “I didn’t.” You choked on the lie a little. “My head was a mess and...” you sniffed as you felt Ransom’s fingers graze the skin on the back of your neck as you looked at your mom. “Mom, please, please don't make tonight continue with vicious jabs and vile glares. I'm sorry, to you, to everyone. I was...." you stopped and centred yourself. "I was lost and I didn't know what to do." "Why don't we just get this out of the way then maybe we can move on with our evening?" Ransom suggested and your father nodded in shocking agreement. "Let's let her explain, Dear. She said she made a mistake and there were good reasons she couldn't come to us, I'm sure. Let's just hear her out." Your father was always the more sensible one. You mother took a shaky breath and looked at you and you swallowed before you started to talk, the lie you had rehearsed in your head slipping from your lips. “I erm, I was having a bit of trouble at work and everything just got too much and... well, I don’t know what happened, a breakdown or whatever,” you took a deep breath, “I just needed to get away, from everything.” “Including us?” Your mom asked and you shook your head. “I wasn’t thinking straight, I just...” "You know, it doesn’t matter what you say to explain because frankly, I won't understand but I do hope that you never have to experience what we went through. Ever." She deadpanned. "I do believe that is my fault, Mrs. Y/L/N. I encouraged her approach and didn't discourage the fact that she wasn't contacting you or anyone she was close with." Ransom sighed, feigning concern for your parents.

You knew what he was doing, the Master Manipulator was coming out in him and you knew there was no going back, no. It was as if Ransom said 'challenge accepted' in winning your parents over. Just, so you assumed, the night would end and you'd be happy in his arms and they'd never think twice about your brief disappearance again. “We hadn’t been seeing each other that long, and my reputation isn’t the greatest. But I should have put my own concerns aside and seen that the way we were going about things was wrong and I should have insisted she reached out. You see, me and my family aren’t close and I sometimes forget that we’re the ones that aren’t normal.” "We hadn't known she was seeing anyone," your mum stated. She was out with her claws, not going to let Ransom nor you off so easily.

"Well, I'm not like Y/S/N, Mom. I don't just bring home whomever I'm taking to bed that month." You'd said it before you could stop it. Never had you said something like that before about your sister, nor spoken to your mother like that. And you didn't miss the twitch of a smirk to the corner of Ransom's lips, telling you he was a bit proud. Surely, you didn't want him to be rubbing off on you in that way. "I'm sorry, that wasn't how I meant it. I just knew I had to be more careful in sharing everything. Like he said, he's not got the best rap, but, after my interview on him, well I guess I just found him intriguing and-“ “Ah, yes," your father now spoke up, cutting you off, “the smear and redact. Believe me, Ransom, we're very familiar with your reputation and our daughter's initial thoughts on you. Which is why you can see how we were a little surprised, once the initial shock of her supposed death wore off, that the two of you were... together." “I understand.” Ransom nodded. “And I would feel the same in your shoes. But, well, I guess after the interview things just kind of spiralled from there. I don’t really know how it happened myself, to be honest, I’m just glad it did.” As if he was sealing the deal, he leaned toward you and pressed his lips to your temple. You sighed and gave him a smile. This bastard was smug enough to start shifting the tone in the room with a metaphorical snap of his fucking fingers and you watched it work on your parents. The ice slowly melting away, the glacial peak softening around your mother. And then the metaphorical snap became a real one as he moved his arm from round you, clicked the fingers of both hands and then slapped his left palm with the underside of his right fist with a flourish as he flashed a smile round the room. “Okay, so....who’s hungry?”

Your parents both raised their eyebrows and as your mom looked at your dad, you saw him shake his head ever so slightly and she took a deep breath, before she turned back to Ransom and you, a small smile on her face. “Dinner sounds great.” "Sweetheart, after you," Ransom politely shifted to the side so you could rise and lead the way. He turned back to your parents, "we wanted to make sure we were able to spend as much time together without the chore of preparing and cleaning up after so we had dinner brought in. Y/N had it all set just before you arrived." You shot him a glare as you moved by him, your mother and father behind you, Ransom pulling up the rear. Sure enough, still warm and catered were four place settings at the table in the large dining room across and down a bit from the lounge. Your parents sat down across the table from where you and Ransom stood, silver dome lids obscuring your eyeline as you sat. Oddly, you'd never eaten in the dining room before. It was your room in the basement, the kitchen table or the coffee table in the lounge. Red wine and cutlery were already set along with water. Your parents and Ransom set their scotch glasses near the wine. Your dad arched an eyebrow at the ostentatious nature of it all and you caught his gaze as he gave you a kneeling smirk. With a laugh, you realized that someone should at least remove the lids, and since you were the host, you rose from your chair and bent over the table a little, reaching for the knobs of their domes. You stacked them together and sat back down, pulling yours and Ransom's as you went.

As you settled down to eat, your parents both complimented the food before a little silence fell as you all ate, the occasional clanking of cutlery against the porcelain plates ringing out across the large room. Ransom made a few comments here and there about the food from the company you’d ordered from being good, as usual, your parents agreeing before a light conversation struck up about the holidays and various other mundane topics, all as if you were close and the conversation prior hadn't happened. Like it was a regular Sunday family dinner. All the time, you spotted your parents growing more and more comfortable with the situation, and you felt yourself relax a little, hoping and praying that things would keep amicable.

And then, after another spell of silence you heard your mother clear her throat. "So, Ransom, what is you do? I never gathered that from…well, from…” she trailed off and Ransom took a dep breath. “To be honest with you, Mrs. Y/L/N, not a great deal until recently. Just another way Y/N managed to help me change my life around." He looked at you with appreciation. "She made me see that living my life riding off people’s coat tails wasn’t really anything to be proud of.” He paused to take a sip of his scotch before he cut another piece of his steak. “Now I’m writing. I have a couple of things on the go and a few from my grandfather that he never finished so, hopefully, they’ll take off.” This bastard! You could not believe the bullshit that so easily sprang from his mouth. It was fascinating and yet absolutely disgusting at once. You found yourself convinced, and not for the first time, that he actually believed the shit he talked. "What's your book about, if you don’t mind me asking?" You father queried, after swallowing down his steak with his wine, saving his scotch for after. “Not at all,” Ransom swallowed his food. “Another area I’ve taken inspiration from, it’s based on a private detective.” He gave a chuckle. “I’ll be handing out a lot of royalties and dedications at this rate.” "Just a private detective?" You pressed, having wondered yourself as he'd told you once before you were an inspiration. He looked at you, smirking a little. “I’ve told you, Princess, I’ll let you read it when the first draft is done.”

Your father eyed you as Ransom spoke of pet names and inspirations. Your eyes flitted away from his gaze, entertaining Ransom's portion of the conversation but you found them quickly fluttering back to those kind eyes that matched yours. At that point, your dad shot you a sweet father-like wink before clearing his throat and speaking.  "So, let's not beat around the obvious, this is awkward." He paused to emphasize his point. "I'll just come right out with it. What could your future intentions be with my daughter?"

"Jesus Christ, Dad!" You surely hadn't seen that coming.  Ransom blinked a little before he cleared his throat. “I’ll keep her as long as I can, Sir.”

At that, his hand curled over your knee, giving a gentle squeeze and you took a deep breath, drawing your back up straight as his hand gently started to trail further up towards your thigh, fingers still hot on your skin through the layer of your thick tights. You cleared your throat, and moved a little, and Ransom removed his hand, a smirk blatantly evident on his face.

“Good to know.” Your dad reached for his wine again, a teasing smile on his face. “I mean the lease has gone on her apartment now and we turned her room into a gym the moment she moved out.”

“Oh purlease!” Your mom scoffed, “a gym. By that he means he has a rowing machine and a bunch of weights that serve as nothing more than expensive door stops.”

At that Ransom gave a full belly laugh, his head tipping back with just the right amount of humour. Not too much to appear fake, but enough to seem like the exchange had genuinely amused him. He almost had you fooled too.

Bastard.

The rest of the dinner past with fairly amicable chat, the ice well and truly broken. Ransom and your father struck up a pleasant conversation about football and then baseball, Ransom confessing that he hadn’t been following either sport much recently but also nodding when your dad suggested that perhaps they could catch a game sometime soon, in a bar. At that you had smirked into your glass, as you knew the thought of going to a place surrounded by a load of loud, drunken members of the public would be Ransom’s idea of hell. The idea that he might just have to follow through on your promise amused you, a lot.

Eventually, your parents both announced that they should be going, and the warmth and happiness that had descended on you began to slowly seep away as you hugged them both good bye. As they headed down to their car, you stifled down a sob as you waved them away, realising you had no idea when you’d be seeing them again. That was on Ransom, for him to decide when and if you deserved it.

But, you’d played his game. You’d behaved. He said he wanted you to trust him, to be content with him. Surely, he would realise that this was the happiest you’d been since he snatched you, and if you continued to behave then he would have no reason to keep you from seeing them for so long again.

With a sigh you turn away from the door and step back inside, Ransom just behind you. You stopped and waited for him to close the door and lock it. He gave you a little twitch of a smile. 

“Well, that wasn’t as painful as I expected.”

You rolled your eyes.

"You were great, Sweetheart."

"Yeah, well, you won them over. I doubt they suspected anything by the time they left." Your words didn't cut him, they cut you. You cleared your throat and shook your head, "anyway, I'm going to go clean up. I'll meet you upstairs."

"What, no 'thank you'?" He piqued.

You turned back to him, "Thank you, Ransom. For allowing my parents to come over."

“That wouldn’t be sarcasm, now would it?” He arched a brow, his arms folding across his chest.

"Oh, no, not at all," you overly pouted, stepping up to him, running your hands over his chest to seal your own sarcastic ploy.

His hands were quick to grab your wrists and oddly there was an air of excitement to your eyes.

“What on earth is there to possibly be sarcastic about?” You continued and he scoffed.

“It’s a good thing I kinda like your sass.”

You simply quirk your eyebrows and give a small shrug before attempting to turn away. However, Ransom still had a hold of your wrists and he kept you rooted near by.

“Ransom, what...”

“Leave the dishes, the maid comes tomorrow. I pay her enough, she can deal with it.”

You scoffed, “you’re such an asshole.”

"Come to bed with me," he asked more than suggested.

Since your little tryst in his precious car a week ago, he'd been far more touchy-feely, needy even. And in your eyes, Ransom Drysdale didn't do needy. However, this neediness served a purpose. You were able to keep him soft in all but one place, manipulating his needs for your own.

“You want me to come to bed with you?” You playfully quipped, cocking your head to one side.

“You want me to beg or something, Y/N?” His voice lowered as he narrowed his eyes. “Because I can make it a demand not a request.”

“Not beg, no.” You ignored his threat. “But a please wouldn’t go amiss.”

His controlling hands moved your arms around his neck before they fell away to your waist. His forehead bent into yours and his nose brushed against the tip of your own. "Please, come to bed with me, baby," he whispered against you.

You were smirking inside as his lips met yours in a deep kiss, his tongue gently flicking through your lips and sliding against yours. 

“Since you asked so nicely.”

It was a quick swoop, one that completely caught you off guard as he pulled you off your feet, his arm around your back while the other was hooked under your legs. His lips were on yours as he carried you to the staircase, not ever missing a beat or step, his tongue gliding over yours as he walked.

You didn't know how the two of you had made it up to your bedroom, and without incident but, the next thing you knew, you were led flat over your bed, his body caging you in.

“You said I did well.” You looked at him and he blinked, his brow furrowing a little. “How well?”

Silently as you waited, hoping he would take the bait.

And he did.

“Very well.” his eyes searched yours and you bit your lip.

“Well enough for me to see them again?”

"If you want, maybe lunch with your mother," he answered, kissing over your jaw and down your neck between each phrase.

You stilled, shock hitting your system and just how easily he had offered that up, you hadn’t even had to try. Noticing your change in body language Ransom paused and looked at you. “What? Don’t you want to?”

“No, I mean yes, of course I do. I just wasn’t expecting you to say that. I mean...” you stopped yourself short of saying what you had been about to, that you were his damned prisoner and until a week or so ago hadn’t left the grounds at all in months. You swallowed as Ransom sighed.

"Trust, remember, baby," he leaned back on his knees between your legs. "Call her in a couple of days, set up lunch."

“And you trust me to do that?” You swallowed. “No stupid tricks or mind games?”

"I won't be far behind." There it was, the stipulation. That silent warning heeding a tone left unsaid. “That said, I’m kinda hoping we’re past the point of me having to remind you about certain things to make you come back.”

"I understand."

Ransom shook his head, licking his lips. “No, I don’t think you do.” 

There was a tone of sadness almost to his voice and you watched him, his eyes locked onto yours and then you understood.

This went right back to the core of all this. He wanted you to want to come back. Not to simply do it because you have to. It was the ever present chink in his armour, the one thing you’d been able to exploit.

And, if you were being totally honest, could more than likely learn to live with the situation if you could have some kind of grasp and control, because that’s what this was about. That ever present power struggle and desperation he has within him to be more than people simply assumed him to be.

In a twisted way, you were almost proud to see the difference in his behaviour over the last few months was insurmountable. Whether that was directly down to you or not, you couldn’t be sure, but something had made him tap into that part of himself that could show reasonableness, rationality and, dare you suggest it, compassion.

Whilst you knew you’d never forget how he had taken you, against your will, or the pain and violence he had inflicted upon your body, maybe, in time, you could forgive. 

Because he simply hadn’t known any better.

"I'm not going anywhere," you spoke softly, sitting up to caress his cheek. His evening stubble scratched at your palm.

His eyes squinted shut, holding back an emotional response to her promise. There was so much he wanted to say but he couldn't. He physically could not bring the words out from his throat. So he did what he had always done, or thought he could, and that was to show her. Show her what he wanted to say. His lips pressed into the palm of her hand and as her fingers rubbed along his ear and behind his head, his lips travelled the length of the soft skin of her forearm until he pressed a delicate kiss to the crook of her elbow.

Turning his head, he caught her lips in a soft kiss which grew deeper as he pressed his body into hers, grinding his hardness against her groin. He felt the exhale from her nose against his cheek as his tongue muted the groan from her throat. His free hand skated up her thigh, to the hem of her sweater dress, bunching it in his fist. At that point, her hand gently wrapped around his wrist and he stopped, pulling away to look at her, his brow creased in puzzlement.

“Let me.” She whispered.

He swallowed hard and gave a short nod. She sat up and he leant back as she did, her hand against his chest, guiding him how she wanted him. As her hands fiddled with his flies, his eyes never left hers. When she tugged on the waistband of his jeans, he raised his hips slightly to allow her to pull them down, taking his boxers with them and he gave a slight sigh at the relief his rock hard dick was now free from it’s constraints.

“Feel good?” She smirked at the sound he made.

He nodded, “yes”, his voice gruff and gravelly.

No sooner had she said it, she’d taken him in her mouth. Instinctively, he bucked upwards, his hands settling in her hair, head falling back against the pillow as he hissed.

When his hips rutted upwards a second time, she moved back, releasing him with a pop and he glanced down at her, his face full of frustration but she simply smirked at him.

“Stop moving." 

The control of the situation wasn't his, it was hers and he was fully aware of it as she changed her pace, quick-quick-slow and if he squirmed she stopped.

A roll of his balls between her hand made him shudder. “Jesus Christ,” he groaned, “fuck, Y/N!”

She responded by taking him to the back of her throat, and the noise that came from his was halfway between a growl and a whimper as it stumbled from his mouth.

On and on this went, and every time she brought him to the edge and he couldn’t control his movements she stopped. It was a delicious torture, but one he was fast reaching his limit with.

“Fuck, baby, I…” his hands raked through her hair as she bobbed up and down on his shaft, her tongue pressing against the thick vein on the underside of his cock. He moaned loudly, “I gotta…”

"No," she purred, kitten licking the slit in his head, the precum dripping onto her tongue. Her lips enclosed over him again, short bobs until she was making long strides at deep throating him. 

She squealed as his hands tightened around her hair, squeezing at the strands to pull her back but she kept her pace, his hips giving way to a violent thrust to the back of her throat as he came hard, his spend shooting deep, coating her inside. His chest heaved as he came down from his high, not letting up on his grip until he was done trembling in euphoria. 

Then in a beat he flipped her to her back and hand his hands over the waistband of her tights, "that wasn't smart, Sweetheart," he growled. 

His eyes flashed in challenge as she giggled and whispered, "I thought it was." 

The force of him tearing her tights as he pulled them away from her legs bothered neither of them, her thin panties soaked and leaving a wet trail down her leg as he removed them, had him salivating. 

"You think it's funny? I'm gonna see how you like it," he challenged. 

Ransom wasted no time in taking a fast swipe at her leaking cunt with his tongue and Y/N cried out as he flicked the tip of his tongue over her swollen and throbbing clit. Her hands went straight to his hair, her knees practically boxing his ears as she curled her body towards his ample assault. 

His long arm slid up her body, over her tummy between her beasts as his splayed his fingers open across her skin, trying to press her back into the mattress. As she complied, she gave a gripping tug to his longer locks and Ransom emitted an elicit growl against her pussy. 

"Jesus Christ," she cried out, the sound sweet in his ears. 

"You taste so fucking good, baby," he spoke against just above her mounded flesh, whilst his fingers sought a wet refuge. He wasted no time in sliding two in, middle and ring fingers, slipping in a first, then second knuckle deep then scissoring inside her until they were all the way in. 

His lips curled around her clit as hers had done to his head, humming over the bud of pleasure, a pressure she nearly exploded over. 

"Oh, no, you don't get to do that yet," he stated firmly. The command made her twitch under him, her breath audibly hitching in her chest. "You're gonna cum on my cock as I fill that pussy up."

"Fuck, Ransom, please," she begged. 

"It's not funny now is it?" He slipped away from her body, sitting back on his heels and removed his own sweater. "Get naked, Princess."

He watched as she struggled to strip of the heavy sweater dress she wore, a stark difference to the fearful prize he had to himself months ago. Now she was his and he loved every single moment of it. From her sassy, smart mouth to the way she took his dick on demand. Ransom slipped his pants away, the two of them both naked and awaiting what was next. He wanted to flip her onto her tummy, rail her from behind while she took it on her hands and knees, keening at him as he thrust into her. 

But instead, he spread her legs wide and slotted his thick cock between her legs, her ankles locking around his narrow hips as he thrust in and gave a naughty twist of his hips. Slow, deep, nasty ruts into her core bounced her tits just a little and he found the wanton cries of her need to be enticing enough to lap at her nipples and breasts, licking and nipping at her skin. Grinding into her as he licked and kissed his way up her neck to that spot that made her cave in at the base of her jaw, jointed just below her ear. 

Her hands wound their way into his hair again and she gripped the strands, giving a pull back, restraining his neck a bit before she let up, allowing his head to drop a pinch. 

Chills covered his sweat sheened skin as she whispered, "harder" into his ear. His body quivered and his stomach fluttered. 

"Fuck, yes." He pulled out and flipped her to her tummy, like he'd wanted to do before. "On your knees, baby. Let me see that pussy."

She positioned like he demanded, a little sway of her hips telling him she was ready. A swift spank to her rounded ass and she cried out as he slammed home. 

"Oh, baby," she mewled as he filled her from behind, bruising fingertips pressing into her hips. 

Her lips praising him, using his nickname for her on him ignited a fire in his belly, his hips snapping harshly against her, his balls slapping against her clit. But it wasn't his pace and the pressure building in his body that was causing him to bury deep inside her, his head rubbing that g-spot that was making her moan filthy words. No, it was the look she gave as she turned her head to just peer over her should the same minute he was throbbing to cum inside her. 

"I'm...fuck, fucking cum, baby girl," he whimpered, desperately holding back so she could cream over his cock. 

And cum she did, her pulsating walls gripping him in a tight squeeze as she pulled him in with a force, literally crying out his name as she came. Her body practically convulsing in pleasure as he filled her up with his seed. The two of them collapsing against the expensive sheets, his body led over hers, still sheathed inside her as they both sagged and panted. 

As if high on the throws of their ecstasy, Ransom kissed along her back with heavy lips and hooded eyes. He could taste the saltiness of her skin, the dampness of sweet sweat a leaving a wet coating over his lips. And when he could feel the blood return to his extremities, he ever so gently pulled out of her, his body sore and tired. She whined at the feeling of his weight escaping her body, but he was quick to fill that void, replacing it with the heat of his frame as he pulled her close, allowing her head to rest against his bare and sculpted chest. He pressed his lips onto the crown of her head. 

"Sleep, baby," he whispered. "Just relax and sleep."

***** For weeks things were good, maybe even really good. Ransom was giving you more freedom, not yet unattended, but you weren't locked away. He'd made do on his promise. 

You had a great lunch with your mother, at the Country Club, in which he'd set up. He'd driven you there, waited in the bar but could easily keep an eye on you. Whilst he might have had ulterior motives that were slightly more sinister than merely being there to keep an eye on you in case you had a panic attack (the excuse you gave to your mother), all in all you didn’t mind. You, too, didn't doubt he paid the waiter a hefty tip to stay nearby as he'd checked on your table more often than most or necessary, again, you didn't mind. 

But despite his hovering, a point you'd made when you'd returned, he promised he trusted you so to save the pains of an argument, you let it go. You'd kept your own promise, never to drop a hint to your mother or anyone else that you weren't less than a free woman.

As the days neared Valentine's Day, Ransom seemed to be more touchy than usual and more than once you'd caught him softly staring at you. His eyes conveying more emotion than they did. Not unlike the first few nights when things had drastically changed between you in November. And when the day arrived, you both exchanged gifts after an early morning wakeup call that you most certainly did not mind. Ransom seemed genuinely pleased with the new silk scarf you’d ordered, having thought it would be a nice replacement for the one he had left at the mansion and point blank refused to return to collect.

For your gift, he handed you a small white envelope. Giving him a puzzled look, you opened it and pulled out a small card.

‘In our favourite room you'll find, your gift my beautiful Valentine.’

Instantly you felt an uncomfortable cold feeling in the pit of your stomach and you swallowed a little. It was a clue, exactly like the ones he had set for you all that time ago on Halloween the previous year. But, as you blinked and looked at him, you saw the expectation on his face and had to remind yourself that this was different.

This was not the same man.

"Is it at least wrapped in a bow, so I know it's mine?" You asked and he smirked a little, leaning back against the headboard of the bed.

 "Trust me, you'll know when you see it."

With a final look at him, you climbed out of bed and pulled on your silk slip before you headed down the stairs. As soon as you’d read the clue, you knew he meant the study. But, when you opened the door, you started to wonder if you’d made a mistake as there was nothing there jumping out at you, at all.

You started rummaging through the stack of things on the desk, looking for anything that resembled a gift. In your haste, you accidentally knocked small stack of notebooks over the edge of the desk. You rushed to get them and straighten them up, hoping not to mess up the order of things he'd had piled together. The moment the leather-bound journal like book touched your fingers, a jolt of curiosity ran through you. 

You opened the cover and ran your fingertips over the dried ink that sat engraved on the pages, a bold and all capitalized print to the handwriting. Not a surprise from a man who's harsh overture played constantly on the surface. Your eyes scanned and scanned the scroll, a frown creased your brow as you registered the meaning of all his notes.

These weren't just any sort of notes, these were his footnotes for his book. And that now disorganized stack of papers that moments ago littered the floor, you looked at them again and realized there among the typed and printed pieces of paper, was his manuscript. 

Hesitating, you picked it up. The front page was plain bar the words. ‘Murder, He Wrote’ and you scoffed at the fact that was the title of the article that had gotten you into this situation in the first place. Mind you, he had said you were a muse of sorts so maybe that was his way of tribute.

You flipped through, skimming the pages, finding yourself strangely proud if you will, that he’d actually finished it, well what appeared to be the first draft anyway. It was indeed about a private detective, by the name of Arnie Bronze, who was hot on the tale of a missing woman called Lucy Roberts who had vanished in mysterious circumstances.

You skipped on a few pages, the narrative shifted to that of focussing on the so called killer, a man named Riley, and you realised that Lucy wasn’t dead as anticipated, she was being held captive. 

In Riley’s basement.

You felt your stomach clench as you focussed in on a small snippet of dialogue, one that was extremely familiar.

 ‘I like this,’ Riley toyed with the straps to the bra Lucy was wearing, his middle finger tracing the outline of the strap against her skin before his lips followed the same path.

‘You should, you chose it,’ her voice was quiet, but still there it was, that unmistakable undercurrent of disdain she carried for him visibly present, as always.

Riley merely chuckled, ‘like I chose you, huh.’ At that, she blinked and looked at him, and he flashed her a smile. Oh, if only she understood exactly why…

What. The. Fuck?

Was he writing about you? Or had he already written this and was merely acting out his sick fucking fantasy. The answer to that became apparent when you tossed the manuscript down and reached for his book of notes.

It was littered with note after note, graphic accounts of the things he’d done to you, along with little questions and observations, how he could turn that into passages for his book. Your breath began to quicken and you turned the pages faster and faster, not needing to read his notes in the slightest as you could remember every sordid little detail for yourself.

Eventually you found the last page. This one contained two simple lines, the first from the night of Harlan’s memorial when he’d arrived home completely soaked.

Memorial was a shit show, as anything is when the fucking Thrombey’s are involved. Y/N made hot chocolate. Held a conversation I actually enjoyed.

This contained no side note as to how this could be used within his book, almost as if it was simply a journal entry, but you didn’t really have time to dwell on that, as your eyes flicked to the line underneath which carried no date.

Original plan changed, no longer going to get rid of when purpose served. Storyline of book will diverge at this point.

'When purpose served'. Well, it didn’t take a genius to work that out.

You threw the book down onto the desk, the room swimming around you as both your hands covered your mouth in shock and horror. You were sick to your stomach, the bile acid in your stomach turning acrid, and you wanted to wretch. 

He’d meant to kill you.

“So, do you like my gift?”

The voice made you scream and you jumped, turning to face the doorway where Ransom was stood, his sweats hung low on his hips, arms folded over his bare chest as he leaned against the frame.

“What?” you blinked, swallowing, the word nothing more than a trembling whisper. “You mean you wanted me to find this?”

“You asked me about being my muse.” He shrugged. “As you can see, you were much more than that. Happy Valentine’s Day, Sweetheart.”

You couldn't hold back the gag in your throat and you quickly turned into the waste bin by the desk, spewing your empty stomach into it. The bile burned your throat as it came up. With a shaky back of your hand, you wiped away the remnants of your episode and leaned forward on the desk, your free hand palm flat against the mahogany.

You were disgusted, that much was painfully true, but you were now terribly afraid for your life. A feeling that hadn't come over you in four months. You felt just as you had that very night, terrified, alone, and fighting a sense of chill that crept through your body and deep into your bones. Your eyes, big and brimming with tears looked up at him and your mind went numb in processing the situation. No quicker than you had just vomited, you felt a pang of hurt, your heart ripping from your chest as everything settled within you. You had accepted this, this fate that had been laid out for you. You were accepting him and the life you were being forced to live. You accepted the beast that had begun to care. But he was merely a wolf in sheep's clothing, the true monster you'd always known to lie in wait just under the surface. 

Your brows creased and your heart raced. You felt the bubbling of a scream start deep in your churning belly, your own monster vying to climb its up your chest and out of your throat. You were angrily screaming on the inside long before your voice sounded to the outside, piercing the room in a shattering, blood-curdling banshee cry of anger. 

“This…” you picked up the notebook in your right hand, throwing it at him violently, “this is the reason you took me?”

“Yes.” He didn't even dodge the thickly bound object as it hit him square in the chest before falling to the ground. 

“You...fucking asshole.” You spat, angrily swiping your arm across the desk. The neatly stacked piles of papers scattered like leaves falling from a tree as they fluttered to the floor. “And to think, I actually started to believe myself that there was more to you than everyone said, that underneath all of that bravado and narcissistic, downright nasty bastard exterior there was something or someone that maybe, just maybe was worthy of caring for! ” Your voice was loud, echoing off the wall of his study as you screamed at him. “But you kidnapped and raped and hurt me in ways I never thought possible for what? So you could write a goddamned book?”

Hot tears coursed down your face as you trembled, staring back at the utter monster who stood before you, his face stony as you wiped at your eyes with the back of your hand. “And then you planned to kill me once I no longer served a purpose? Well, tell me, how long have I got?”

“It’s not like that anymore.” Ransom took a deep breath as he stepped forward. He was calm, too calm and instantly you took a step back. “That was my initial plan, yeah, but what I wasn’t banking on was how being around you would make me feel.” He swallowed as he licked his lips. “I couldn’t get rid of you like I originally planned once you served your purpose. Because I love you.” Your mouth dropped open at his confession, utter horror coursing through your veins as you realised what he was saying. The chances of you getting out of this were depleting by the second. He really was completely fucked in the head. “No, no you don’t!” You shook your head, “this...is not love, Ransom, this is obsession, it’s...” He cut you off as he surged forward, his lips pressing to yours. You placed your hands on his chest, shoving hard as you turned your face away, screaming loudly at him to leave you alone. In an easy movement he spun you round, his arms clamping around yours pulling them behind you as he held you in place, your back pressed to his chest as he pressed his lips to your neck. “I know deep down you love me too...” his breath was hot on your neck, voice still eerily calm as his hips pushed forward and you could feel his erection digging into the curve of your spine. “Fuck, this is what you’ve done to me, feel that, Sweetheart? You wrecked me, and now I need you. It’s that simple.” At that he pushed you forward, harshly bending you over his desk, one large hand securing both of yours being your back, your body twisted in a warped recreation of that time he’d used your sweater to restrain you all those months ago. You struggled but he simply twisted your arm further, causing you to cry out in pain and desperation as his other hand roughly hoisted up your night-dress. “You’ll say it eventually.” He stated calmly as you heard that tell-tale rustle of fabric as he pushed down his sweats. “It might take another spell in the basement to make you realise, but you’ll come round.” “It doesn’t work like that.” You sobbed, your voice cracking as his hand let go of your arms and slid up to your neck, reaching round your throat. His fingers curled round your neck as he pulled your head back, his mouth nipping at your neck before he pulled back, his face inches from yours as his icy blues stared locked onto your eyes. They were cold, dangerous and you shook your head, tears pouring down your face.  Your lip trembled as you closer your eyes, taking a deep breath before you opened them again, resigning yourself to the fact that this next line might just seal your fate and wind up with you losing your life. But right now, that would be a blessed way out.  “I can’t love you simply because that’s what you want.” “Oh Sweetheart,” he chuckled, his lips ghosting over yours, “I know that. I know I can’t force you to feel something you don’t, but the only person you’re fooling is yourself. I just want you to admit it.”

“I won’t.” You stuttered, “never, Ransom.”

“Oh, Y/N. Haven’t you learned by now? I always get what I want, including this, you’ll see.” With a harsh thrust forward he pushed inside you, making you scream at the burn thanks to the fact you weren’t ready for him, at all. He gave a groan as he grabbed at your hips, your pelvis jolting painfully into the edge of the hard wooden desk you were bent over. “As my granddad used to quote,” he pulled back before delivering another deep thrust harshly into you, his fingers digging into your flesh as you closed your eyes, scrunching them shut as your cheek rest against the desk, tears leaking from your eyes, “we all become stories in the end.” 

He gave another deep rut forward as he ground into you, his breathing deep.

“Now it’s time to rewrite ours, Princess.”

*****

Epilogue

[trulymadlysydney]

Scorpio Season: Two

Harry is the ghost that haunts the sorority house, Misty is the only one who can see him, and Scorpio season is far too short.

tw: Death, brief mentions of sexual assault, lots and lots of filthy smut

(This is also 26.k words so like... be prepared for a long read)

Read Part One Here

***Do Not Repost Without Permission***

It’s Halloween, and Misty is drunk.

Okay, so perhaps she isn’t quite drunk, but she’s getting there, and Harry is doing his best to take care of her.   (And his best isn’t exactly good enough, considering she’s the only one who can see him.)

It takes him fifteen minutes to get her attention, and he lets out a sigh of relief when he finally sees her walking towards him- dressed head to toe like the devil (if the devil were, of course, sexy and wore a skin tight red dress and fishnets).

When she reaches him, she smirks, and he doesn’t know why.   “What?” She asks, raising her eyebrows challengingly.

For the sake of Misty’s pride, Harry turns away before anyone can see her talking to nothing.  “Follow me,” he says, nodding over his shoulder and leading her into the hallway.

They turn the corner into her bedroom, and Harry gently closes the door behind them. When it’s just the two of them, Misty grins.  “What’s up, buttercup?”

Harry smirks. “You doing alright?”

“M-hm!” Misty says with a nod.  “You want a drink?”

“Can’t, love.”

Misty’s smile slowly fades into a frown.  “You mean ghosts can’t let loose? Have a little fun?”

“Who says I’m not having fun?”  

Misty considers his words and offers him a shrug.  “I mean you’re just watching a bunch of drunk college kids in stuipd costumes get even more drunk and make out with each other.  That isn’t really my idea of a good time.”

“And yet here you are.”

Misty giggles.  “You know what I meaaaan.”

“I’m watching you,” Harry says smugly.  “That’s all I need.”

She laughs again, turning away so he can’t see the tinge of embarrassment on her face.  “Don’t watch me,” she says.  “Creep.”

“Not a creep,” Harry insists, plopping onto her bed.  “Just want you to take care of yourself.  That’s all.”

“I wish you could take care of meeee,” Misty says, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively and punctuating her sentence with a half-hiccup, half-giggle.

Harry doesn’t know if Misty meant to say that, or if she even meant it in the way that he’s taking it,  but he knows that if he had a beating heart, it would be racing at her words.   He brushes it off, smiling at her softly.  “M’taking care of you right now, aren’t I?”

“S’not what I meaaaaan,” Misty says, through another giggle, and now Harry knows exactly how her sentence was meant to be taken.

He laughs.  “Sunshine why don’t we get you some water, hm?”

“I like it when you call me that,” Misty says, sauntering clumsily towards Harry.  “‘Sunshine.’  Makes me happy.”

“I like making you happy,” Harry replies softly.  “Now, will you make me happy by getting yourself some water please?  I would get you some myself but, you know.”  He gestures vaguely with his hands.

“You can’t!” she says, tittering to herself.  “Cause you’re a ghost.  I know that.”

Her words sting just the tiniest bit, even though Harry knows she doesn’t mean it in a negative way.  He laughs them off anyway.  “You’re stalling, Misty.”

“I’m not stalling!” Misty says.  “I wish I could stay in here with you all night.”

And God, Harry wishes that too.

“And miss all the fun of the party out there?” Harry asks, eyeing her as she wobbles a bit around the room.  “I saw the way those guys were looking at you.”  He wiggles his eyebrows, and laughs as she gags.

“Ew,” she says, face twisting up in disgust.  “They’re the worst.”

“You didn’t like their flirting?  I thought that the trick the one guy did with the beer can on his head was very appealing. Especially with him dressed like a Greek God and all that.”

“You’re stupid.”

Harry grins.  “Water, Misty, “ he reminds her.   “You need to get yourself a glass of water.”

“Alright alriiiiight!” Misty holds up her hands in surrender. “You’re so neeeeeedy.”

Harry giggles, rising to his feet just in time to steady her a bit when she wobbles.  She laughs softly at the feeling of his cold hands against her hips, turning in his arms to face him.

“You smell good,” she says, her face mere inches from his.  “Have I ever told you that?”

Harry realizes that he’s held his hands in the same spot for just a tick too long, and he quickly drops them to his sides.  “No,” he says,  “Never told me that.  What do I smell like?”

“Like…”  Misty sniffs the air dramatically.  “Like cinnamon.  You’re laughin’ at me but it’s true!  Smells really good.”  She frowns up at him, as if a new thought just crossed her mind.  “What am I gonna do when you’re gone?”

Now her words really sting, and Harry struggles to just laugh them off this time.  Still, he knows tonight isn’t the time for sadness, and he doesn’t want to ruin Misty’s buzz.  So he grins.  “Buy a cinnamon candle?”

Misty pouts.  “Not the same.”

Harry laughs, booping her nose with the tip of his finger.  “Now I know you’re stalling.”

“Is it working?”  Misty grins mischievously up at him, and Harry shakes his head.

“No,” he says through another laugh.  “You little sneak.”

Misty giggles.  “But you’ll stay with me, right?  All night?”

“If you want me to.”  Harry nods.  “Yeah.  You can’t talk to me though.  Unless we’re in here.”

Misty frowns.  “I know.  Sucks.”

She turns like she’s going to leave finally, but then stops again.  “Why can’t you show yourself in front of everyone?” she asks, as if the thought just dawned on her.

Harry sighs, because as much as he knows she’s stalling, it is a valid question.  “I suppose I could,” he says, “If I really wanted to.”

“Don’t you want to?”

“Not really, no.”  Harry offers her a half hearted shrug, and when he sees her face drop he quickly tacks on, “Not that I don’t want to be able to openly spend time with you, of course! You know I do. It’s just difficult.”

“Why is it difficult?” Misty cocks her head to the side like a curious child, and it’s so cute Harry could burst.

“It’s exhausting,” he explains.  “As ghosts we only have so much energy. And it’s affected by the energies of others in the room as well. Manifesting takes up a lot of that energy, especially when you’re manifesting in front of a lot of other beings.”  He smiles, pausing to allow her to process what he’s just said before continuing his explanation.

“When it’s only you who can see me, the amount of energy I’m putting forward is far less than, say, the amount it would take for me to manifest in front of everyone else.  On top of that, being around all different energies-- feeling them interact with your own-- you sort of adopt those energies as well.  You take them upon yourself.  I don’t like doing it.  It doesn’t feel good.”

“Oh.”  Misty frowns.  “That sucks.”

“It does suck,” Harry says, nodding his head.  “Especially since I can’t walk around tonight and show you off the way you deserve.”

Misty giggles shyly, and Harry beams at her before continuing.  “Now if you don’t go and get yourself some water, I’m going to have to expose myself to everyone.”

Misty’s laugh is louder than it usually is, and Harry has no choice but to laugh along with her.  “Okay!” she says.  “Sorry! God.”

Misty makes her way over to the bedroom door with Harry close on her heels. He holds his arms out just in case she needs extra stabilizing.  As soon as the door opens, she’s met with a loud cheering from the people in the hallway.

Harry recognizes Rosie and Greg, but there are two other guys there that he’s never seen before.  And by the looks of their cheers, they’re super happy to see Misty.

“Mistaaaaay!” One of the guys, who is dressed as a lifeguard, shouts.  “What were you doin’ in your room all alone?”

Harry scrambles to come up with an excuse for Misty, when she surprises him and comes up with one all on her own.

“My little sister was calling me, weirdo,” Misty says. “She forgot our parent’s wifi password.”  She glances over her shoulder and shoots Harry a very subtle wink, and honestly Harry’s impressed.  He chuckles to himself, shaking his head.

“Quick thinking there, sunshine.”

Misty ignores him but her smirk does not go unnoticed.  Her attention is quickly pulled, however, when the original guy speaks up again.

“You’re lookin’ good tonight, girl.  You know Josh is looking for you?”

And just like that, Harry’s ears are perked and his stomach is sinking.

“Yeah?” Misty asks, completely uninterested as she tries to push through the crowd. “Well I’ve been here!”  She almost seems to sober up, and Harry is intrigued as to why.

“You should go see what he wants.”  Lifeguard wiggles his eyebrows, and Harry takes a protective and unintentional step forward.

Misty rolls her eyes, seemingly unbothered.  “If it’s really that important he can find me.”

Lifeguard whistles.  “Damn, Misty, alright!   Not interested?”

Misty spares a quick glance in Harry’s direction.  “I’m not, no.”

It should make Harry feel much, much better.  It really should.  But it doesn’t.

Misty, of course, offers no time for explanation-- which she shouldn’t, Harry knows, but still. She only continues to push through the crowd, with Harry close behind-- and he tries to ignore the random shivers from the people he accidentally walks through.

“Misty--” He says quietly.

“It’s fine.”  It’s barely audible, and of course Harry can’t blame her for that; for fucks sake, she can’t look like she’s talking to herself.

Misty stumbles a bit as she enters the kitchen, opening the fridge and reaching inside for a jello shot.  Harry keeps a close eye on her-- not because he feels he has to, by any means, but mostly because it’s getting to the point in the night where things are starting to get a bit nutty.  The boys are becoming handsier, the girls are becoming more giggly and loud.  In his lifetime, Harry had been to quite a few parties-- so he knows exactly the direction this night is headed.

Misty is about to close the fridge when Harry offers her a pointed look.  “Forgetting something?”

“Water!” Misty says out loud, without thinking.  “Duh! Sorry.”

She reaches into the fridge just as a voice comes from behind Harry.  “There you are, babe! Who are you talking to?”

Harry and Misty turn at the same time to see who the voice belongs to, and Harry immediately frowns.

He comes to the conclusion (based on little to no evidence) that this must be Josh-- just by the way he’s eyeing Misty like prey.  He’s dressed like Tom Cruise from Risky Business, only he’s left the shirt unbuttoned far enough that his abs (or lack thereof) are visible.

Misty speaks, confirming Harry’s thoughts.  “Hi, Josh.”

She sounds less than thrilled to be seeing him, and she goes stiff when he throws a hand around her waist and pulls her in for a hug.  He leans in to kiss the side of her head, but Misty quickly ducks away, regaining her distance from him and opening her water bottle.

“Not happy to see me?” Josh pouts.

“No, I am,” she says, unconvincingly.  She opens her water and is about to take a sip when Josh scoffs.

“You’re drinking water?  Lightweight.  Thought you were gonna get lit with us!”

“I am!” Misty insists. “Just don’t want to end my night with my head in the toilet.”

“You know I’d take care of you babe,” Josh says.  “What’s in your cup tonight?”

Misty takes a few long sips from her water bottle, eyeing Harry pointedly, before she speaks.  “Uh.  I don’t know exactly, Kennedy made it for me.”

“Hell yeah,” Josh says, eyeing her glass.  “You’re runnin’ low though, want me to get you another?”

Before Misty can even answer, Josh has taken the cup from her hands.  He’s walking over to the stash of various liquors on the counter, and Harry immediately moves to stand beside him.  He watches carefully as Josh pours the liquor into Misty’s cup.

“Heard you talkin’ in here,” Josh says.  “Who were you talking to?”

“What?”  Misty and Harry share a quick glance before she speaks.  “Oh.  No one.  I was talking to myself.”

“Yourself?”  Josh scoffs, still pouring vodka into Misty’s drink.  Harry has to stop himself from reaching out to stop him from pouring.  “You’re a little weirdo sometimes, Misty.  You know that?”

Harry lets out an annoyed sigh, wanting more than anything to put Josh in his place. Misty only smiles passively.  “I know.”

“Quite a bit of fuckin vodka he’s putting in there,” Harry says.   “He’s trying to get you drunk, love.”

“I know,” Misty repeats, both to Harry and to Josh.

“Hot little weirdo though,” Josh says, adding only a tiny splash of cranberry juice before turning around to offer Misty her cup again.  He pauses, just as he’s about to hand it to her.

“Did it suddenly get cold in here?”  he asks, glancing around him.

“I could kill him,” Harry states, emotionless.

Misty has to fight a giggle, reaching forward to take her drink from Josh.  “No, I don’t feel anything,” she says.  She takes a quick sip, immediately regretting her actions when her esophagus is burned with the taste of vodka.

Misty shivers and gags, coughing in an attempt to get the horrible taste out of her mouth.  “Jesus, Josh, what did you put in this?”

“Vodka cran baby!” Josh says.  “Know you like those!”

“Vodka with a fuckin’ shot of cran,” Harry adds.

Misty coughs, putting her cup down on the counter.  Josh frowns.  “You don’t like it?”

“No,” Misty chokes, “I mean it’s fine but… fuck, dude, how much vodka did you put in there?”

“Nothing you can’t handle, Misty!” Josh steps forward, hip checking Misty and nearly knocking her over.  “You’re a tough little girl aren’t you.”

“I really could kill him,” Harry adds.

Misty clears her throat, finally done with coughing.  “You need to work on your bartending skills, Josh.”

“Yeah?”  Josh puts his cup down, moving in on Misty.  Before she even has time to react, he has her pinned against the counter, with both his arms trapped on either side of her. She leans her head back in an attempt to get further away from him.  He, completely oblivious to social cues, only grins.  “Maybe I do.  But I know of one skill I don’t need to work on.”

“Josh—“ Misty couldn’t lean any further back if she tried, and she glances at Harry out of the corner of her eyes.

Josh leans in, pressing his lips to Misty’s neck. “C’mon, baby, you know what I’m talking about.  Don’t you remember how good it was?”

Harry takes a step forward as Misty manages to get her hands unpinned and shoves them weakly against Josh’s chest. “You’re drunk,” she says.

“And you’re not?” Josh licks his lips, trying to kiss Misty again. “Take another sip then.”

Harry has never felt so helpless in his entire existence, and he doesn’t even think twice before reaching forward to yank Josh off Misty. Misty coincidentally pushes at his chest at the exact same time, sending Josh practically toppling over.

He regains his balance after a moment,, glancing at Misty with a confused look.  There’s a thick silence in the air, and Harry instinctively takes a step between Josh and Misty.   Josh glances around, as if searching for whatever just yanked him, and Misty shoots Harry a nervous look.

A menacing grin spreads slowly across Josh’s face, and he swipes his teeth with his tongue. “Damn, girl. You’re strong.”

Misty blinks back at him, swallowing. “Josh,” she says slowly. “I’m not interested.”

“That’s not what you said last time.”

Harry feels like his insides are on fire with anger, and Misty rolls her eyes.

“Yes, it is actually.  Interesting how you don’t seem to recall that.”

“Say the word and I’ll kill him,” Harry says.

Misty rolls her eyes, which goes completely unnoticed by Josh as he continues his tirade. “Look, I know you’re just being stubborn and I get it! I do.” He picks up Misty’s abandoned drink, sloshing the cup around in his hand. “Why don’t you just finish this drink I made you and then come find me when it hits you and you stop being such a prude?”

Harry can’t hold back any longer, and he doesn’t even think twice before he moves in- slapping the cup and tilting it all over onto Josh’s skin and his stupid white shirt.

Josh shrieks, and the look on his face is a mix between shock and confusion. He eyes the now empty cup in his hand as if he can’t believe he just spilled it all over himself. Misty scoffs quietly to herself.

“Wow Josh, you might want to lay off the drinks.”

“Fucker,” Harry adds.

“I’m not that drunk!” Josh insists, raising his voice and taking a step towards Misty.  Harry immediately steps between them once again, ready to push him away at a moment’s notice.

It’s at that exact moment that Kennedy walks in, saving the day.  She instantly notices the tension in the room, and her eyes dart between Misty and Josh.  She laughs when she notices his spilled drink.

“Woooow,” she says.  “What happened here?”

“I stumbled,” Josh laughs, trying to regain his composure and play the situation off.  “Misty saw it, huh?”

Misty shoots Kennedy a glance before muttering, “Yeah.  It was crazy.”

“Mm,” Kennedy says, and it’s obvious that she seems to have an idea of exactly what happened. She doesn’t like Josh, that much is obvious. Harry is immensely grateful for her, knowing that she’s going to take care of Misty in a way that he can’t.  “Well you should probably get that cleaned up, huh?  And maybe lay off the drinks a bit.”

Kennedy immediately walks to Misty’s side, and Harry can tell Josh knows his game is over by the look he gives. Neither Kennedy or Misty hint at being upset, and Misty shoots Harry a thankful look.

“I’m not drunk, Kennedy,” Josh lies, a smile on his face that makes it very obvious that he’s offended.

“Okay,” Kennedy scoffs.  “How bout you, Misty?  Need another drink?”

Misty’s eyes dart from Kennedy to Josh to Harry, who watches her with helpless and sympathetic eyes.  Misty wants more than anything to curl into Harry’s side, but she knows she can’t, and she’s thankful for Kennedy for stepping in when she did.

“Uh,” Misty says, clearing her throat.  “Yeah, actually, I do.  This idiot here spilled mine.”

Kennedy rolls her eyes, but it’s apparent she knows about the situation with Josh.  “What a douche,” she teases. shooting Josh a look as if to say she’s not actually teasing-- she means what she’s saying.  “Why don’t you go clean yourself up.  Misty, I’ll make you another drink.”

Josh rolls his eyes, scoffing as if he can’t believe what just happened.  “Yeah,” he says.  “Alright.”  He winks at Misty, shooting her an overly confident “I’ll see you later” before exiting the kitchen.

Kennedy, Misty, and Harry all watch him exit most ungracefully before Kennedy turns to Misty.  “You okay?  Like, actually.”

“Yes,” Misty lies.

“No,” Harry adds.

Kennedy rolls her eyes as she gets to work making Misty another drink. “He’s a fuckin douche canoe. I can’t believe he even still thinks he can talk to you.”

“I know.” Misty grabs a paper towel to clean up the bit of the drink that spilled onto the ground. “I don’t either.”  

Harry watches Misty, continuing to feel helpless— almost as if he’s butting in on a conversation he shouldn’t be. But he doesn’t move. He remains still, almost frozen in place as he watches Misty clean up the mess he made.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “I should’ve planned that better.”

“It’s okay,” Misty says, both to Harry and Kennedy. “I’m fine. He didn’t do anything.”

“He wouldn’t have given up though,” Kennedy says, pouring the actual correct amount of vodka into Misty’s cup. “He’s a creep.”

Misty sighs. “He is. But—“

“No buts.” Kennedy and Harry both say this at the exact same time, and it takes Harry a moment to process.

“God I hate him,” Kennedy says. “Don’t let him intimidate you.  Here.”  She finishes mixing the drink in Misty’s cup and hands it to her. “Stay with me, yeah?”

Misty smiles gratefully at Kennedy. “Thank you.”  She glances over at Harry, a soft grateful smile directed in his direction as well.

Kennedy and Misty make their way out of the kitchen, and Harry once again feels helpless as he follows them.  Should he leave her alone? She asked him not to, but now he feels awkward and, if he’s being honest, angry that he couldn’t help her more.  

Harry numbly follows Misty and Kennedy through the house and into a cozy but messy living room filled with tons of other drunk people.  He feels a slight sense of relief when, immediately upon sitting down, Misty’s eyes search for him. She seems to visibly relax when she sees him, and he smiles sadly at her.  He reaches out to stoke lovingly at her cheek, and try as she might to not react, she can’t help but flutter her lashes closed for a brief second and lean into his touch.

The rest of the night seems to pass by slowly.  Misty hardly touches her drink at all, and as normal as she’s behaving around everyone else, Harry-- and Kennedy, it seems-- can tell that something is wrong.  She seems sad, her eyes less bright, and as the hours tick on she becomes less and less secretive about her glances towards Harry.

The party ends-- finally-- around 3am, with most of its guests falling asleep in various places throughout the house.  Misty moves slowly, helping Kennedy clean up the apartment, and Harry follows her anxiously-- wishing he, too, could help.

“Are you okay?”  Kennedy asks, once she and Misty-- and Harry-- are alone in the kitchen.  “Like, actually.”

“Yeah,” Misty insists.  “My buzz just wore off and like… I dunno.  I just want to sleep.”

“I get that,” Kennedy says, turning on the sink to wash out a glass.  “Well why don’t you go up to bed?  I’ll finish up in here.”

“I don’t want to leave it all to you--”

“I’m good! I’m just gonna do a couple more dishes and then head up to bed myself.  We can do the rest tomorrow.”

Misty hesitates, glancing from Kennedy to Harry before sighing, smiling a little relieved smile.  “You’re the fucking best, Ken.”

Kennedy grins.  “Duh.  Go get some sleep.”

Misty throws her arms around Kennedy from behind, giving her a big squeeze and pressing the most obnoxious kiss to her cheek before bidding her goodnight.  She still seems upset-- something is still very clearly on her mind, but she seems a bit relieved that she’s finally able to leave.  

As she pulls away, she shoots Harry a questioning glance, as if asking him to come with her.  He nods, holding up his finger to indicate that he’ll be right there.  Misty smiles, nodding her head before disappearing out of the kitchen.

Harry turns back to Kennedy, making his way slowly towards her.  He reaches forward, hesitating before giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze.   He’s thanking her, in the only way he knows how to without revealing himself, and much to his relief, Kennedy only jumps slightly before giggling.

“I knew you were here,” she says softly.  “Whoever you are.  And I know you care about our girl, too.  Don’t worry, I’ve got her.”

Harry smiles to himself, wishing he could verbally thank her.  But just her knowing about his existence-- and being okay with it, at that-- means more to him than he can explain.  So without any more delay, he disappears from the kitchen and makes his way to Misty.

He finds Misty in her room, waiting in the doorway, and she smiles when she sees him.  He makes his way quickly into her room and she closes the door behind him, her face immediately dropping the moment it’s closed.  Harry waits for her to speak, but she doesn’t-- she only busies herself with retrieving the items she needs in order to get ready for bed.

“Are you alright?”  Harry finally asks, voice gentle.  He doesn’t know if he should step closer, touch her, hug her, or just stay away, so he stands awkwardly off to the side.

“I’m alright,” Misty says, most unconvincingly.  

“You sure?”  This time he does take a step towards her.  “I don’t think--”

“It’s nothing,” Misty insists.  “Seriously. He’s a creep.”

‘You shouldn’t have to deal with him,” Harry says.  “Does he treat you like that often?”

Misty pauses, then sighs, nodding her head slowly. “And everyone kinda just… lets him get away with it because….” she scoffs cynically, “He’s Josh.”

“Fuck Josh.  Where does he get off?”

Misty shrugs, opening a drawer and rummaging through it in search of a t-shirt.  “It’s just who he is.  I don’t know.”

“Well I mean…”  Harry isn’t sure how to word his next question.  “What makes him think that he can mess with you like that?”

“It’s literally nothing,” Misty says, exasperated.  She pauses, considering her words before turning to face Harry.  She opens her mouth, then closes it, and then finally decides to speak.

“You really want to know what happened?”

“If you don’t mind,” Harry says.

Misty sighs again, removing her little devil horn headband.  “We were drunk at a Kappa party my freshman year.  We kissed a little.  I was… stupid.  He kept pouring me drinks, and I just… kept taking them.  And….”

Harry waits for a moment, before gently pressing her a bit more.  “And?”

“And stuff happened.  We didn’t like, have sex or anything. I know that for a fact.  But he…”  She trails off, lost in thought, before continuing. “I don’t remember a whole lot of it.”

Harry is furious, and he wants more than anything to go find Josh and kick his ass.  But he knows that isn’t what Misty wants-- and definitely not what she needs right now.  So he stays put, offering her a sympathetic sigh.  “Oh, Misty.”

“It’s okay,” she offers. “I remember he made me a drink that was particularly strong. We went up to his room and then… next thing I remember I was throwing up in the yard.” Misty laughs bitterly. “My big was the one that found me. With him, I mean. That’s how I know we didn’t have sex. But she saw what we were doing and I—“ Misty trails off, shaking her head. “I don’t remember it at all.”

Harry swallows heavily as he takes in her words, scanning her face. The way Misty is looking at him right now, with her big soft eyes and genuine smile, he’s feeling guilty for even bringing it up.

“So. That’s what happened.”  Misty shrugs.  “I wish it didn’t, but it did.  And that’s it.”

Harry runs a hand through his hair, feeling for the first time just how cold he really is.  The only thing Harry can settle on in this moment is a sigh, and so he lets all of his anxieties out in a big puff of air that actually, admittedly, does make him feel better.  As soon as he’s pushed all the air out of his lungs, his guilt increases, and he meets Misty’s eyes.

“Misty,” he says softly,  “Sunshine.  I’m so sorry.”

Harry reaches for Misty, nervous that he’s pressured her to talk about something so personal. She does lean into his touch-- thank God-- and she lets out the deepest sigh she feels she’s ever let out in her life.

“Harry….I don’t know how to navigate a situation like this,” Misty admits, voice hardly above a whisper.  “I only want to make you happy.”

“Darling, you do make me happy. I can’t believe he would ever—“

“It’s not about him,” Misty says. “I’m okay. I’m talking about you. I don’t know how to navigate… this.”

Harry pauses, realizing that she’s talking about the blatant chemistry between the two of them. “Well, I—“

“You’re just…. such a wonderful guy. And I wish—“ she trails off, as if second guessing her words, before starting her next thought. “All I know is that you’re someone I just… want around. All the time.”

“I want to stay around,” Harry says gently.  “I wish I could stay around longer.”

“Me too.”  Misty smiles sadly up at him.  “Our situation is unique.”

“Unique,” Harry repeats.  “That’s a nice way of saying ‘weird as hell.’”

Now Misty giggles.   “But I like it,” she tacks on quietly.  “I like…”  She trails off, closing her mouth as if the rest of that sentence hangs heavy on her tongue.

“I know,” Harry offers.  “I do, too.”

They stay like this for a moment, before Misty sighs.  “I have to get ready for bed now.  So--”

“I’ll go!” Harry says quickly.  “I’ll let you get to sleep and--”

“No, wait!” Misty holds up her hand.  “I’ll be right back.  I’m gonna change and stuff in the bathroom.  But then I’ll come back so we can… say goodnight.”

Harry wonders what exactly she means by that, but he doesn’t even allow himself to question her.  He smiles.  “Alright.  I’ll be here.”

Misty looks almost relieved.  “Alright.”

Misty disappears into the hallway, leaving Harry behind with the silence and his own thoughts. He knows Misty is still a bit buzzed, sure, but her words were pointed.  He tries not to overthink what she could have potentially meant by ‘say goodnight.’

He sighs, walking around her room and trying to distract himself from the nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach.  He looks at the pictures in the frames along her dresser, the unfinished homework lying on her desk, the paddle made by her “big” hanging on the wall.  All these pieces of Misty’s life make him smile, but what really gets him is the framed picture on her bedside table.

It’s a picture of her family, taken from when Misty couldn’t have been more than fifteen years old. She’s smiling the biggest smile Harry thinks he’s ever seen, and she’s the spitting image of her beautiful mother, who stands behind her, laughing.  

Beside her mother stands her father, a tall, broad man with some wrinkles around his eyes and graying sideburns.  He looks like the kind of guy that Harry would love to chat with, sharing a whiskey neat or two while giving each other shit.  He seems pleasant, and he seems like a wonderful man just from this picture alone.

Surrounding Misty are her siblings: an older brother, and a younger sister and brother.  Harry wants more than anything to be able to meet them.  To have to earn the respect of Misty’s older brother, to spoil her younger siblings and make them love him.  He wants to be close to the whole family, really.  He wants to be the boyfriend that Misty brings home one year for spring break.  The boyfriend who brings a new plant for her mother, who watches football with her father and impresses them with his knowledge of American traditions, despite being british.

Harry wishes, more than anything in the world, that he was still alive.

He doesn’t realize how long he’s been staring at the picture until he’s startled by Misty’s presence as she enters her room once again.  He jumps a bit, and Misty giggles.

“Hi,” she says.  “Sorry.  Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Hi. Ghosts don’t get scared.”

“Debatable,” Misty says.  Harry gets a good look at her, and he’s completely enamored. He’s just watched her transform from a sexy demon, with dark makeup and long lashes and the plumpest red lips he’s ever seen-- to the most adorable person he thinks he’s ever laid his eyes upon.

Her makeup-less face reveals a few zits on her cheek, her lips look chapped, and she’s dressed only in a long t-shirt and shorts.  She discards her costume into her hamper without a second thought, completely unaware of the way Harry is watching her.

“You look cute,” he says, as she pulls back her comforter.

“Shut up,”  she says, rolling her eyes as she crawls into bed.  “Ew.”

Harry snorts.  “I’m serious.  You’re so pretty.”

“Well,” she says, plumping up the pillows behind her.  “You’re so nice, but I’m going to have to respectfully tell you that I think you’re lying.”

“Well,” Harry mocks, “agree to disagree then.”

Misty relaxes against her pillows, rubbing sleepily and adorably at her eyes for a few moments.

“Thanks for being so wonderful to me,” she says after a bit, pulling the covers up tighter around her hips.  “Like, all night I mean.  You didn’t have to do that.”

“Don’t be silly,” Harry says.  “I care about you.  I had fun.”

“Me too.  I just…” she sighs, and Harry takes a step towards her.

“What, love?”

“I just wish you could’ve actually like… had a good time.  Like, drank and hung out with us and stuff.  I wish I wasn’t the only one who could see you all night.”

“You don’t like havin’ me all to yourself then?”  Harry fake pouts.  

Misty rolls her eyes, but she smiles anyway. “It is nice to have my own personal ghost, but I just… wish you weren’t one.”

Harry smiles sadly.  “Me too,” he says.  “But I like watching over you.  Like your own personal guardian angel or summat.”

Misty giggles.  “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Feelin’ okay?” Harry asks, trying to change the subject. “Need more water or anything?”

“No,” Misty says. “Think I just need to sleep off the rest of this buzz.”

“Yeah,” Harry agrees.  “Sometimes that’s best.”

“Yeah.”  There is a weird sort of tension fizzling in the air between them, as if Misty has something else she wants to say.

Harry waits patiently, watching as she avoids his gaze. She seems deep in thought and on the verge of asking something, but when she doesn’t Harry realizes that maybe he’s the one being awkward. Maybe she wants him to leave now and she’s too polite to tell him so.

So Harry clears his throat. “Alright. Well. Goodnight, bug.” He nods in finality.  After a few more seconds, he takes a step back before vanishing right in front of Misty’s eyes.  He’s about to actually leave, and he figures he can go inspect the house.  Maybe see what damage has been done, and try to discreetly clean up a bit in order to help speed up the process tomorrow for what he knows is going to be a very hungover group of girls. But something catches his attention that he absolutely cannot ignore.

“Wait, don’t go!”

Misty’s voice sounds so pitiful that Harry can’t even pretend like he’s not going to come back.  He manifests immediately in the corner of her room and he coos at her.  “What is it, sunshine?”

“Can you sleep with me?”

She seems so embarrassed to be asking, it makes even Harry’s cheeks flush.  “You want me to… get in bed with you?”

Misty nods, eyes bigger than Harry’s ever seen.  “Yeah,” she mumbles.  “Can you?”

Harry doesn’t remember the last time he spent a night in a bed-- much less with a beautiful girl-- but the thought of doing it tonight excites him.  He doesn’t want to come across as too eager, of course, but he can’t help but feel touched by her request, and he all but runs to her side.

As he makes his way towards the bed, he speaks.  “I might be a little bit cold,” he offers.  He looms over her, reaching down to brush a bit of her messy hair off of her forehead.

“S’okay,” Misty sighs, “I have lots of blankets.  Just wanna cuddle.  Is that okay?”

Harry smiles at how cute she looks, bundled up and sleepy in her bed.  He chuckles softly, reaching to tug gently at her covers to pull them back for himself.  “Yeah,” he says,  “That’s okay.  I can do that.”

As Harry settles himself in bed, he tries not to beat himself up too hard for the slight shiver in her body.  She obviously doesn’t seem to mind as she cuddles up close to him instantly.  The feeling of her warmth is almost too much for Harry to handle-- similar to the feeling of getting into a hot tub too quickly-- but he doesn’t mind.  It feels so good, and if he closes his eyes he can pretend, just for a moment, that he’s human, too.

“Can ghosts sleep?” Misty asks abruptly, tearing Harry from his fantasy and reminding him of his actual form.

Harry chuckles. “Yeah, we can sleep,” he says.  “It’s not exactly the same as how you sleep, though.”

“What’s it like then?”

Harry thinks for a moment, choosing his words carefully to explain this in a way that it makes sense.  “You know how I mentioned I can visit dreams?  When I’m… gone.”

“Yeah?”

“So if I go to sleep while I’m here, I’ll just go there.  To the dreamscape.  Where I can visit anybody’s dreams that I want. That’s usually how I visit my mum or say, a friend.”  Harry chuckles.  “Or someone who wronged me in the past.  So I can haunt their ass.”

“But you’ll still be here when I wake up right?”  She sounds so sleepy, almost needy, and it makes Harry hold her that much tighter.

“If you want me to be,” he answers.

“I do,” she says softly.  There is a beat of silence before she’s changing the subject again. “Tell me what it’s like.”

“What?”

“The dream stuff.  Like how do you just… do that?”

“Mmm. It’s like… how can I explain…”   Harry thinks carefully once again.  “I’m in a black… room?  Sort of.  Like where I go when I’m gone.  And there are a ton of doors, right?  In this room I mean.  And I can enter any one of them that I’d like, at any time. Anywhere in the world.”

“You can enter anybody’s dream?”

“Mhm.”

“At any time?”

“At any time.”

“Woooooow.”  Misty’s sleepy exclamation tickles softly against his neck.  “That’s so cool.”

“It is yeah,” Harry says, smiling to himself.  

“Can you come into my dream tonight?”

“If you want me to, yeah.”

“Can you make me dream about you?”

“Well,” Harry says, tracing a circle into Misty’s spine.  “Yes and no.  Whatever you’re dreaming about, I can enter it if I want to.  But I won’t know what you’re dreaming about until I’m in there.”

“Oh,” Misty says through a yawn.  “Ew.”

Harry snorts. “Why ‘ew?’”

“Because what if I’m dreaming something embarrassing?”  

“Then I can embarrass you about it forever,” Harry says.  “How fun!”

Misty pulls Harry closer, burying her face deep into his neck.  He can feel her visible frown, and it makes him smile.  “Don’t pout,” he coos, scratching at her back.

“Don’t tease meeee,” she whines, but the way she says it sounds like she has another thought to add on.

Misty hesitates, and Harry gives her time to think about what she’s going to say.  She arches her back the teeniest bit, leaning into a particularly good scratch, and it makes Harry smile. Finally, she finishes her thought.

“I actually did have a dream about you the other night,” she says,  “although now I’m guessing you already knew that.”

Harry nods.  He did know that, because it was his doing. Nothing out of the ordinary had happened; if anything it had just been pretty mundane-- similar to every day he’s spent with her in real life.  But it felt more real, more permanent, more tangible.  Harry had been careful, of course, not to be too obvious with it-- he didn’t interfere with the natural plot line of her dream as much as he normally would if it were a real visit.  He had just wanted to spend more time with her, and it had been lovely.

“Was it weird?” He asks, although he already knows the answer.

“It wasn’t weird,” Misty says.  “You were just kinda… there.  But I…” he feels her body tense up, and she curls herself even further into his side, as if hiding herself.  “I wanted to kiss you so bad.”

Harry feels his breath hitch in his throat, and his fingertips cease their movements along her spine.  “Yeah?” he chokes out.

“Yeah,” she whispers back.  “Is that weird?”

“It’s not weird, sunshine,” Harry whispers.  “I wanted to--”  He trails off now, letting the rest of his sentence fizzle out in a sigh.  “It’s not weird,” he repeats.

“I’m falling asleep,” Misty announces through the softest yawn Harry thinks he’s ever heard.  “It’s not weird right?  Like, things between us aren’t weird just cause I got drunk and kinda… confessed some shit?”

“Confessed what?”  Harry says.  “You’ve told me nothing.”

Misty giggles  “You’re a good man, Harry.”

“I’m not a man,” Harry teases.  “I’m a ghost.”

“Can you not be annoying for like, one whole second?”

It’s Harry’s turn to giggle now. “Alright, I’m sorry. I’ll chill.”

Misty yawns again, and the feeling of her breath against his neck makes him shiver.  He smiles, snuggling his cheek against the top of her head. “Well,” he says.  “Goodnight, sunshine.”

“Goodnight, Harry,” she mumbles.  Without thinking, she presses the softest little peck against his neck that almost goes unnoticed by him. It makes him freeze, letting out the rest of the air in his lungs in a little sigh. He doesn’t know if he should kiss her back or not, but she doesn’t seem to mind either way.  So he lets it slide.

But he spends the entire night replaying the feeling of her lips against his neck over and over and over again.

------

Misty sighs as she reaches into the fridge for a bottle of water.  Somehow she’s been roped into a conversation that she wants no part of; gossip between Lindsey and Rosie about Lindsey’s boyfriend who’s been openly cheating on her for weeks. Perhaps she had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time, but somehow Misty has found herself listening to the girls chat away, one feeling sorry for herself, and the other kissing her ass.

When Misty closes the door, she jumps when she sees Harry, who has manifested right in front of her.  She lets out a frustrated sigh through her nose, and Harry grins cheekily at her, raising his eyebrows and daring her to speak.

“What’s wrong, Misty?” Rosie asks, and Misty realizes her little scare hadn’t gone unnoticed.

Misty glances between Harry and the two girls, who stare expectantly back at her.  “Uh,” she says,  “Nothing.  I… thought I saw something.  Sorry.”

“Is it that fucking ghost again?” Rosie’s face grows pale at her own words. “I swear to God if that fucker is back I--”

“No,” Misty says, cutting her off.  “He-- it-- isn’t back. Continue with your story.”

Lindsey launches right back into it, hardly giving Misty’s words a second thought. “Anyway, Brad was like, totally flirting with me that night right?”

“He totally was,” Rosie replies.

“Thank you! I thought he was, and Jade thought he was, but then now he’s back with Jessie again and--”

“God who cares about any of this?” Harry’s voice drawls in Misty’s ear. “She’s been going on and on about this for ages.”

Misty sighs softly so that only Harry can hear her.  She knows she can’t verbally respond to him, but he hears her response and smirks. It’s then the idea pops into his head.

“Whatever you do, don’t smile,” Harry says, voice low and teasing in Misty’s ear-- a surefire way to make her smile.  

The corners of Misty’s lips twinge and she visibly gulps, and Harry knows he’s got her.

“I said don’t smile,” Harry, sing-songs, inching closer to Misty’s ear and trying his hardest to get her to break.  “You’ll look like a crazy person.  Can you imagine?  Lindsey’s pouring her heart out, and you can’t stop smiling?  What will they think?”

Misty clears her throat a bit more aggressively than normal as a desperate plea to get Harry to shut the hell up.

“No,” he replies, with a cheeky grin, knowing exactly what her noise meant.  “I’m not going to stop.”  

Misty holds her breath as an attempt to hold her composure as Harry continues.  “Imagine if Lindsey’s water like, came out of her nose right now. Wouldn’t that be crazy?”

Harry notices the way Misty runs her tongue over her teeth, setting her jaw firmly so as not to slip up again.  And honestly, he’s impressed.  He presses her further.  “Did you know I could make that happen?”

This time Misty’s breath hitches, and she eyes Harry threateningly out of the corner of her eyes.  “I really can,” he says. “I can snap my fingers and she’ll be like a faucet.  A free flowing spirit.”

Harry thinks he’s almost got her, her lips twitch up again and she raises her water bottle to her lips to cover it up.  Harry snorts.

“Nah, I’m fucking with you,”  he says,  “you think I could really do that?  Who do you think I am, fuckin Harry Potter?”

Misty rolls her eyes without giving it a second thought, which luckily goes unnoticed by her sisters-- but not unnoticed by Harry.  He raises his eyebrows.

“Ope! Careful there.  Going to give yourself away, eh?”

When Misty stares blankly ahead, Harry laughs.

“Wow,” he says, “so you’re really not gonna smile, are you?  You’re good at this.”

His tone makes Misty think he’s giving up, and she gives a subtle smirk of satisfaction in his direction.  

But Harry is nothing if he isn’t persistent.  And he is not going to give up that easily.

It’s when Misty raises her arm to run a hand through her hair that Harry gets his idea.  He doesn’t even allow himself time to think about it before he’s setting his plan into action.  Before he knows it, he’s going right for Misty’s ribs.  

Harry digs his hands into Misty’s lower ribs, squeezing a few times, and Misty folds instantly into his arms.  She lets out a surprised shriek mixed with an almost honking laugh, and both Lindsey and Rosie stop the conversation immediately to shoot her a puzzled look.

It’s all too good, and Harry is so utterly pleased with himself right now.  He’d be lying if he said this kind of power didn’t go to his head, especially when Misty immediately realizes that she’s got to stop giggling.  Harry doesn’t let up on her ribs, lowering a hand to pinch softly at her side, and Misty tries desperately to cover up her remaining giggles with a cough.

Harry would also be lying if he said that seeing her laugh like this didn’t turn him on.  But that is neither here nor there.

After a few more seconds of tickling her and watching her desperately try to contain her giggles and cover them up with the fakest coughs Harry’s ever heard, he decides to show the poor girl some mercy.  He removes his hands from her torso, and it takes her a few seconds to realize she’s free.

The silence that follows is charged with awkwardness, and Harry almost feels a bit bad.  Misty, whose face is visibly hot, reaches for her water bottle on the counter and takes several long sips from it.

“You alright?” Rosie asks, slowly raising an eyebrow.

Misty gulps down one more sip and gestures vaguely at her throat.  “Yeah, sorry I just--”

“Have a tickle in your throat?”

Harry beams, voice low in Misty’s ear.  “Something like that,” he says.

Misty closes her eyes and lets out a long sigh, as if she’s just heard the worst joke of her life.  Harry snorts.  “I know,” he says.  “That was a good one, wasn’t it?”

“Linds, I’m so sorry to interrupt,” Misty says,  “But I have this huge paper due in a couple of hours and I’m super behind so--”

“Oh is it that stupid paper for english?” Lindsey nods sympathetically.  “I worked on it like, all night last night.”

“Yeah,” Misty lies,  “I have to work on it.  I promise in a few hours I’ll be right back down to--”

“No worries, baby, do your thing!” Lindsey says, shooing Misty with her hand. “I get it.  You’re good.”

“Thanks.”  Misty begins making her way out of the kitchen without even sparing so much as a glance in Harry’s direction. “I want to hear all about it later though.”

Misty storms up the stairs with Harry close on her heels. He is giggling the entire way, but Misty doesn’t even smile.  It’s about halfway up the stairs that Harry begins to get a bit nervous.

“You have to admit that was good,” he says through his laughter, obviously trying to lighten the mood.  “Come on.”

Misty ignores him, continuing her path to her room.  When she arrives, she doesn’t even check to see that Harry is behind her.  She closes the door a bit harder than she intends, and Harry effortlessly glides through it.  The silence that follows is absolutely deafening.

She turns, agonizingly slowly to face him, and the look on her face is unreadable.  Harry isn’t sure if the smirk on his own face is appropriate or not, so he tries his best to suppress it while he waits for her to say something.  When she doesn’t, his lips twitch.

“I take it you’re angry,” he tries.

“How could you do that?!” Misty hisses, the sort of whisper that’s stupidly loud.  He knows she isn’t angry, not fully, but he almost worries he took things a step too far.

“Sunshine, I’m sorry, I didn’t--”

“Made me look like a fucking idiot.” Misty runs her hands through her hair and shakes her head at him.  “And for what?  So you could get a laugh?”

Harry tries desperately not to smirk, but the corners of his lips turn up ever so slightly-- giving him away. “Yeah.”

Misty stops, not exactly expecting that answer.  She pauses for a moment before sighing through her nose and closing her mouth.  “Ridiculous,” she mumbles, before brushing past Harry to rummage through her closet.

“I really think you should lighten up,” Harry says, walking over and plopping himself on her bed.  “Wasn’t meant to be a personal attack.”

“Lighten up?!” Misty says, whirling around on her heels.  She hesitates, realizing that she’s raised her voice a tick too loud.  She takes a step towards Harry, lowering her voice significantly before speaking.  “You think I need to lighten up?  Harry, you--”

“I didn’t mean to ruin your bloody day, Misty, Christ.  I was just trying to make you laugh.”

“Well don’t.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

There’s an intense pause between them, and Harry doesn’t shy away from Misty’s intimidating stare.  In fact, there is hardly any emotion on his face at all, and Misty can’t tell whether it infuriates her or turns her on. She can feel the blood rushing to her cheeks growing hotter by the second, and she lets out a flustered sigh.

“You seem like you have something else to say,” Harry states calmly.

It’s so unfair, Misty thinks.  It really fucking is.  She scrambles to find words to express how she’s feeling, but her brain is cloudy with the thought of how goddamn attractive he is. When she really thinks about it, she isn’t angry at all, really.  The thought of Harry being able to do whatever he wants to her- whenever he wants- in front of people both embarrasses her and makes her excited.  

Truth be told, she’s never been more excited in her entire life.

Harry raises his eyebrows expectantly.  “Well?”

“I don’t have anything else to say,” Misty says quietly.

“Are you sure?”  Harry asks, rising to his feet and taking a cautious step towards her.

Misty lets out a frustrated breath, reaching up to push her hair off of her face.  “Yes, I’m sure! Will you stop doing that?”

Harry scoffs, mockingly.  “Stop doing what, Misty?  Trying to call you out on what we both know is true?”

“No!” Misty’s voice is dangerously loud, and she catches herself again before she can get any louder.  She rolls her eyes at herself before continuing at a much softer pace.  “Stop… looking at me like that.”

And oh, now Harry understands.

Harry shakes his head.  “I’m not looking at you like anything.”

“Yes you are!” she insists, closing the space between them just the tiniest bit more.  “You’re always looking at me like… like that!”  She gestures indistinctly.

Harry licks his lips, eyebrow subconsciously raising challengingly.  “I’m going to need you to be more specific, Misty.”

“You know what I’m talking about.”

“Sunshine,” he drawls, voice thick as honey,  “all I ever want is to make you happy.  That’s a promise.”

Misty swallows, nostrils flaring as she tries to get her breath under control. “Harry, I…”  She trails off, because truth be told she doesn’t know where she was even going with this thought.

“What?” he asks, taking another step towards her.  “Tell me.”

After a beat of intense silence Misty groans.  “I don’t know! You’re so annoying and you’re so perfect and you make me so happy and I just--”

“What?” Harry says, inching closer.  “You just what?”

Misty lowers her voice, eyes thick with sadness.  “I just… don’t want to be feeling this way about you.  I can’t.  But you make it impossible to not.”

“To not what?”

“Fall for you.”  Misty sighs.  “I’m trying so hard not to because… well, you’re not actually here  are you?”

“Can you see me?”  Harry asks, matter-of-factly.

“Well, yes, but--”

“I’m here.”  Harry reaches forward, lightly caressing Misty’s arm.  “I’m right here Misty.”

Misty glances down to his hand, then back up at him.  “Harry, I don’t know what I’m feeling.”

He pulls away, not wanting to pressure her into feeling any type of way at all. “What do you mean?”

“I mean-- God.”  She lets out all of her air and shakes her head, almost cynically.  “Harry I… really, really like you.”

If Harry had blood running through his veins, it would run cold at her words.  “You do?”

“Have I not made it obvious?”  Misty scoffs.  “Fuck, dude, you’re so perfect.”

“I’m not,” Harry says in a breath.  He steps forward.  “Misty, I’m not.”

“You are,” she insists.  “I want you so bad, Harry.  And I’m scared.”

Harry processes her words slowly, and he knows he shouldn’t say what he’s about to say. But he does it anyway.

“I’m scared, too,” he admits softly, feeling more human than he’s felt in a long time.

“I’m scared that I’m going to really fall for you,” Misty continues, “because I know you’re just going to have to leave in the end. And I’m going to be sad, and I’m going to miss you, and—“

“Well then why don’t we just pretend?” Harry tries. “We’ve still got a few more weeks, haven’t we?”

“Yes, but the thought of you leaving won’t go away, Harry! It’s all I can think about. Every time I feel something for you I’m reminded of our situation and how you’ll never actually be mine.”

“I hate it,” Harry agrees, his own voice matching hers in volume now. “I absolutely hate it, but Misty, we can’t let that thought hang over the time we have left like a raincloud.”

“But--”

“You make me feel alive again, Misty!” Harry doesn’t mean to cut her off, but he can’t help it.  “I know that’s forward, and we haven’t known each other for all that long, but it’s true.”

Misty looks like she wants to cry, and her eyes feel thick and heavy.  She wills herself not to break, taking a moment to regain her composure before speaking.  “Harry, I don’t know what to do,” she whispers.  “I don’t… we can’t--”

Harry leans in, taking Misty’s chin in between his thumb and forefinger.  He tilts her head up softly, effectively quieting her, and she realizes her lips are still parted. Harry can feel her breath, and it feels far too intimate to be real.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, voice tender and quiet.

Misty blinks up at him. “God,” she breathes, “I’ve been waiting for you to ask me that.”

Harry smiles, leaning in gently and fastening their lips together slowly.  He takes her top lip between his own, and he can feel her instantly relax against him. She smiles faintly into the kiss as well, but makes no movement to pull him closer— as if she’s still a bit unsure.  He kisses her again, then pulls away, scanning her face for any sign of discomfort.

“How do you feel?” He asks after a moment.

“Like I want to do that for the rest of my life.”  Misty reaches up to cup Harry’s face and bring him in for another kiss.  

Harry, of course, happily complies to her nonverbal request, snaking his hands around her waist and holding her gently to him.  He timidly peeks his tongue out, gliding along her lip as if asking for permission, and she willingly submits— opening her mouth for him to lick into.

Misty giggles into his mouth the minute their tongues interact, and it makes Harry pull away. “What?”

“You taste good,” she says. “You taste…. sweet. I don’t know. I love it.”

“Oh.” He grins, pulling her back into him to pick up immediately where they left off.

It’s beautiful, and Harry feels happier than he’s felt in a long time now that he’s finally kissing her. He licks into her mouth softly, trying to convey all the words he isn’t yet brave enough to say.

“Harry.”  Misty pulls away, smiling up at him.  She’s so happy that it feels like everything her eyes land on is glowing. “God, I can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted to do this.”

“Why didn’t you do it then?  I wanted it, too!”

“Well why didn’t you?!”

Harry grins.  “Wanted to see how long until you gave in, I suppose.”  When Misty rolls her eyes, Harry chuckles.  “Alright I’m kidding.  I guess I was just… scared.”

“Me too,” Misty admits.  “I mean… feelings are scary one way or another, but then when you add our situation in there its…”

“Weird as fuck,” Harry says, nodding.  “Yeah.  I hate it.”  He smiles, cupping the back of her neck and bumping his nose tenderly against hers.  “But I don’t fully. I’m very happy that I have you, sweet girl.”

Misty smiles, leaning gently into his touch.  “Kiss me again,” she asks,  “Please.”

Harry grins, pulling her close to him and pressing his lips gently to her forehead.  “With pleasure.”

They continue like this for a while, giggly and unsure and so, so happy.  It is weird, as they both admitted, but it’s so incredibly wonderful and fills both of their hearts with a warmth that neither of them have felt for a while.  And as Harry continues to kiss against Misty’s smile, he forgets his situation— if only for a moment— to revel in the fact that he’s kissing the most beautiful girl he’s ever known.

He doesn’t think his entire existence could ever get better than it is right now.

------

Later that night, Misty sits cross legged on her bed, fresh from a shower and rubbing lotion into her arms while Harry explores her vinyl collection.  She’s wearing the cutest t-shirt and pajama shorts combo Harry thinks he’s ever seen, and it’s driving him crazy.  Things are definitely not awkward between them by any means, but the whole situation feels silly and exciting, like two middle schoolers who just admitted they had a mutual crush on one another.

Misty nods towards the Fleetwood Mac record Harry currently holds in his hands.  “I found that one at a garage sale,” she says.  “Luckiest find of my life.”

“No kidding.”  Harry turns, smiling at her.  He holds the record up.  “Do you like Fleetwood Mac?”

“Nah, just thought the vinyl looked cool.  I don’t even know any songs by them.”

Harry halts all movement, eyeing Misty to figure out if she means what she’s saying.  She’s got him for a moment, her expression remains completely unbothered as she rubs her vanilla lotion into her arms.   But then she giggles, face twisting up like she can’t believe Harry would even ask her that.  “What the fuck kind of question is that, Harry?  Hello?  Why else would I have that?”

Harry snorts.  “You know what?  I’ve had enough of your sarcasm.”

“My sarcasm?” Misty says.  “You’re one to talk!”

“Me? I’m a dream!”  Harry returns the record to it’s rightful spot and makes his way over to the bed.  “You on the other hand--”

Harry reaches for a pillow to whack Misty with, but Misty is quicker.  She grabs the other pillow on her bed and shields his attack, squealing as he continues his fight on her regardless.  He eventually tosses the pillow aside, going for what he knows will absolutely get her to cave and digging his fingers into her sides.

Misty squeals, instantly bucking into his touch as he squeezes at her.  “Wait, no! Fucker!  This is cheating!”

“Careful!” Harry taunts, fingers wiggling up to her ribs. “No one else knows I’m here! Would be awful embarrassing if they heard you talking and giggling to yourself, wouldn’t it?”

“Well then fucking stooooop!” Misty whines, wriggling under his grasp.  “Why are you making me--” She is cut off by her own cackle before she continues-- “Do this?!”

“Because I can.”  Harry beams down at her, leaning down to press a kiss to her nose.  “Because it’s cute and you like it.”

“I don’t like it!” Misty practically howls.  “You’re annoying!”

“Oh,” Harry says, ceasing the movement of his fingers.  “I’m annoying?”

“YES!” Misty whines, pouting up at him.

He smiles, leaning closer into her face and enjoying the heat radiating off of her cheeks.  “Do you really not like it?”

Misty pants, catching her breath and smiling up at Harry.  “No,” she admits after a beat.

Harry squirms so he’s fully on top of her now. “‘No’ you don’t like it? Or ‘no’ as in you do like it and don’t want me to stop?”

Misty reaches up to cover her face as much as Harry’s body pinning her will allow.  “‘No’ as in… don’t stop.”

Harry grins, pressing a kiss to Misty’s nose.  “I figured.”

Harry trails his lips lightly along Misty’s cheeks leading up to her mouth, pressing smiley kisses to the soft skin and loving the way he can feel her smile beneath him.  “Pretty girl,’ he mutters.  “You’re the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”

When he finally fastens his lips to hers, Misty sighs.  She opens her mouth willingly, allowing him to lick his way in, and she delights in the sweet taste of his tongue against hers.  She allows her hand to trail up Harry’s icy neck, tangling her fingers in his hair before she tilts her head away slightly to speak.

“You know,” she muses,  “You could be awful mean to me if you wanted to be.”

Harry quirks an eyebrow, cocking his head to the side teasingly.  “Do you want me to be mean to you?”

Misty only sighs. “If you have to ask--”  She trails off, fingertips lightly toying with the hem of Harry’s shirt.  There’s a moment of tense silence in which she bats her eyes up at him innocently, and that’s all the starting gun he needs.

“Ohh, sweetheart,” Harry coos.  “You’re going to have to be more convincing than that.”

Misty groans, her facade crumbling away little by little.  “I cannnn’t,” she whines, hiding her face in her hands.  Harry can see her smile between her hands however, and it eggs him on.

“You can,” he says, voice almost mockingly sweet. He rises to sit on his knees. “Know you can.  You just won’t.”  

Harry reaches up, trying to gently coax her hands from her face as best he can. “You know why you won’t?”

Misty peeks through her fingers, shaking her head but not verbally answering Harry.  He flashes her his cheekiest dimpled grin.  “Because you want me to make you say it. Am I right?”

Misty giggles as Harry successfully lowers her hands.   “You can’t make me say it,” she says teasingly.

Harry shrugs, placing his hand on Misty’s calf and squeezing lightly.  “It’s true.  I can’t. Can’t make you do anything you don’t want to, baby.”  He walks his fingers up her leg, tauntingly tracing his pointer finger around her kneecap and making her shiver.  “But darling, this cute little act of yours is only going to get you so far.

“It’s gotten me far enough, hasn’t it?” Misty licks her lips subconsciously, reaching forward to scratch behind Harry’s ear.  “Obviously things have gone my way.”

“Have they?” Harry says, cocking his head.  “I haven’t given in yet, have I?”

“How much longer until you do?” Misty asks, giggling nervously.

Harry shakes his head, leaning in to press a kiss to the side of Misty’s chin.  “Dunno,” he says.  “Wanna see how long you’re going to act like this for.”

Harry presses a few more rapid kisses directly to Misty’s chin before trailing them up to the fleshiest parts of her cheeks.  After a few kisses there, he pulls away.

“Your cheeks are so hot, sunshine,” Harry muses, reaching up and tracing a knuckle along the tender skin.  “Why?”

“Hot in here,” Misty breathes, voice so low that Harry can barely even make out what she’s saying.  

Harry’s honey drip of a voice sends shivers down Misty’s spine when he speaks.  “No,” he says with a grin.  “That’s not it.”  

With his other hand, Harry trails his fingertips down the sensitive skin of her arm, making her squirm a bit.  “Know what I think it is?”  His fingers squeeze delicately over her hips before resting on her exposed thigh-- where he gives her a soft scratch.  “I think somebody is embarrassed about how badly she wants me to be mean to her.”

Harry leans in, pressing an icy kiss to her neck that makes her instinctively tremble.  A breathy moan floats past her lips as Harry ghosts his own along her collarbone.  He takes his time with this, really inhaling her scent and her warmth as he makes his way down her body.  His fingers trace delicately along the waistband of her pajama shorts, her stomach jolting a bit when he hits a sensitive spot on her hips.  Misty watches his face with parted lips, so completely enamoured by him and his touch that she’s rendered speechless.

Slowly, gently, Harry lowers his hand to the spot between her legs, feeling the damp heat against the soft fabric of her short pajama bottoms.  He grins, slowly adjusting to sit up on his knees once again.  He takes her in, her entire body, and allows himself to really savor this moment.  When his eyes fall on the beauty between her legs again, however, he stops.

“And you know what else I think?” Harry says, grinning over her as his fingers tease her waistband once again.  “I think you like being embarrassed like this.  I think you like that I can do this to you, and we’re the only two who’ll ever know about it.  Hm?  Am I right?”

Misty gulps, goosebumps prickling her skin and lips glistening.  She nods.  “Yes,” she breathes.  “You’re exactly right.”

“I knew it,” Harry says, hooking his fingers into her waistband. “Filthy girl, aren’t you?”  He begins lowering the shorts from her hips, never breaking eye contact and smirking at how willingly she complies with his movements.  When he pulls the shorts past her feet he flings them carelessly to the floor, then glances down at the ever-growing wet spot on the fabric between her legs.  He grins up at her.  “Messy thing you are, too.  Look how wet you get just from some teasing.”

“Harry--” Misty breathes.

“Love it when you say my name like that, darling,” Harry purrs.  He leans forward to press a kiss directly to her bellybutton. The kiss is wet, and the sound of it mixed with Misty’s beautiful sighing is enough to make Harry melt.  He can’t help but to close his eyes and take a deep breath in, sighing when he’s met with her heavenly scent.  “Smell so fucking good,” he mumbles.  “Haven’t smelt anything like this in years.”

“Don’t--” Misty breathes,  “Don’t tease.”

“Ohh,” Harry tuts, tracing the spot where her inner thigh meets the fabric of her panties.  “Poor thing doesn’t want me to tease?”

He glances up at her from under his lashes, and the look on her face sends Harry over the moon.   Her eyes are wide and the smile on her slightly parted lips is so warm and inviting that Harry almost has a hard time keeping this up.

“Well, I find that hard to believe.”

He sinks his teeth into the waistband of her panties without any warning, and she gasps at the sudden sharpness mixed with the temperature of his mouth on her hips.

Misty lets out an unfiltered moan and immediately flings her hand up to her mouth to keep herself quiet.  She gives herself only a few moments to compose herself before whispering, “Harry, I… I need you--”

“Aww,” Harry coos, his teeth still hooked around her panties. He shakes his head a bit, curls falling in his face as he pulls the fabric away from Misty’s skin. “Needy,” he mutters, tugging a bit in an attempt to remove the panties.

When the lower half of Misty’s body is exposed to the chill of Harry’s skin, she shivers, and he delights in the movement for the first time since he’s met her.

“Know I’m cold,” he says quietly, teeth still clenched around her panties as he drags them down her leg.  “But it feels good, doesn’t it?”

Misty nods.  “M-hm…”  She’s eyeing him, and he’s moving slowly because he can tell she has something she wants to say.  He discards her panties onto the ground and tries not to outwardly show just how fucking delicious she looks right now.  He’s practically drooling at the sight of her, but she’s nervous, and he doesn’t want to push her too far.  So instead, he trails his nails slowly up her calf, looking only in her eye  and waiting patiently for her to speak.

“Nervous?” he asks.

“Well, no,” she says.  “But I…”  she trails off, squirming when his eyes land between her legs once again.

“What’s wrong?”

“I…” she starts, squirming a bit.  “I didn’t shave.”

Harry almost laughs at her when she says this. “Oh, darling. That’s what’s got you so nervous?”

She nods.  “Yeah.  I mean, I didn’t think… I don’t know.”

“Your pussy looks amazing,” Harry says, deciding to just bite the bullet and be as forward as he feels.  “Looks fucking delicious.  Smells delicious as well.  I certainly don’t mind a bit of hair.”

“You don’t?”  she asks, sitting up.

“Are you kidding?” He reaches forward, brushing against some of the hair with his finger.  “Fucking sexy as hell.  Don’t be silly.”

“I mean,” Misty says quickly, “I suppose it’s probably been, like, a minute since you’ve seen a pussy.  So I guess any pussy is gonna be fine.  I mean, not to assume your preferences, or anything, but you know--”

Harry leans forward, biting Misty’s thigh and making her yelp.  “Shh,”  he mumbles.  “Please.”

Misty giggles nervously. “Okay,” she says.

Harry leans down and kisses the spot he’s just nipped at, trailing his lips up her thigh and settling himself on his stomach. Being this close to her core ignites something in him that he hasn’t felt in years, and just the smell of her alone makes his mouth water.

With one hand Harry coaxes Misty’s leg up and over his shoulder, and now with a clearer view of her beautiful pussy he licks his lips.  

“You’re already so wet,” he observes. “Wanted it this badly, did you?”

“Want you,” she replies, squirming. “So bad.”

Harry takes his time with it, eyeing her body up and down before leaning in to press the most velvet soft kiss directly at her center  His scruff tickles her lightly, and she lets out a sigh.

Harry hums against her core before really diving into his work, peeking his tongue out from between his lips to lap delicately at her clit.  He watches her from under his long lashes, waiting for a reaction from her as he explores her with his tongue— wanting to find the best spot to really devour.

She watches him intently, as if in a daze, while he sucks at her, and it takes him a moment to realize she’s holding her breath. So he pops off of her clit gently, making her jolt, before reaching up to place a hand on her belly. “Breathe, baby.”

Perhaps Misty didn’t realize she was holding her breath, because she lets it all out in a puff. Her tummy immediately grows a bit and Harry loves it, loves seeing her fully relaxed for him like this.

“You okay?” He asks. “Genuinely.”

“I’m okay,” she says.

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

“Cross your heart?”

Misty snorts.  “I swear on my life, Harry, come onnnn.”

He giggles, “Alright alright.”  Without any further warning, he leans down and presses the softest kiss directly to her clit, resuming his work and licking against her.

The only noises in the room are Misty’s heavy breathing and soft sighing, mixed with the wet noises of Harry’s mouth-- and it all feels so filthy and intimate that it makes Harry lose himself in his work. He moans, even louder than she does, and it makes her back arch a bit off of the mattress.

“Harry--” she sighs.

Harry tilts his head, ghosting his lips against her thigh.  “Careful,” he says.  “I don’t have to be quiet. You do.”

Misty smiles to herself, enjoying the feeling of his tongue between her legs. The sensation of his temperature down there is something she’s never experienced before in her life, and it makes the entire experience all the more intoxicatingly wonderful.

“God you taste so fucking good,” Harry mumbles, pulling his head back only slightly and reaching up to rub at her clit. “Like fucking honey. Delicious.”  He lowers his fingers to collect her wetness, observing the stickiness coating the digits before raising his hand to her mouth.

He doesn’t even have to tell her to do anything, she’s already opening her mouth and sticking her tongue out. Harry rests his fingertips on her tongue, and she envelopes them with her lips, giving them a nice long suck that causes Harry to make a most obscene noise in the back of his throat.

The temporary distraction lights a fire in Harry’s soul, and he ducks down to bury his face in her pussy once more. She arches her back when he hits a particularly good spot, and she accidentally bites down gently on his fingers— which Harry is surprised to find that he loves the feeling of.

Harry hums against her, wiggling his fingers a bit as a silent request for her to loosen up.  She opens her mouth, unable to contain the moan that escapes her lips when she does so.  Harry envelops her clit with his lips and sucks harshly, and she squirms against him.

“Harry--” She breathes.  “It’s so… fuck-- you’re so good…”

“Quiet now,” Harry mumbles against the skin of her thigh.  “Unless you want them to know how filthy you are.”

“I don’t care,” Misty pants breathlessly.  “I’ll blame my vibrator, I don’t care,  I’ll--- oh fuuuuck.”  She’s cut off when Harry sinks his teeth into the flesh of her thigh, and even he moans at the sensation.

“Fucking shit,” he mumbles as he pulls away, admiring the dents that his teeth left and the string of saliva trailing from his bottom lip to her plushy skin.  “You taste good everywhere.”

“More,” Misty pleads.  “Harry, more, please.”

Harry sits mesmerized by the imprint of his own teeth on her thigh.  “They’ll think you’re crazy if they hear you.”

Misty groans, and Harry instinctively reaches up and covers her mouth without hesitation.  He considers stopping, punishing her for not listening to him and being loud.  But looking up at her, seeing how needy and fucked out she already looks has him weak.  So he buries his face between her legs and prepares to finish the job, licking her out like it’s the one thing he was born to do.

Misty’s hand flies to Harry’s hair and she tugs so hard it makes him wince.  Honestly, it’s the best feeling he’s felt in ages.  No one has pulled his hair like this since long before he died, and the feeling alone causes him to moan out loud against her core.

“Fucking shit, Misty,” he mumbles.  “Do that again.”

“You like that?” Misty cries breathlessly, her fingers moving frantically to grasp at his curls once again.  

Harry groans, lapping against her clit and enjoying the most pleasure he’s felt in years. “Misty,” he breathes, relishing in the way she twitches against the tickle of his breath against her skin, “You’re so fucking perfect.”

“Fuck,” Misty groans.  “Holy shit--”

“Is this good sweet girl?”  

“I need more,” Misty cries, and who is Harry to deny her of her simple request?

He reaches down, fingering gently at the wetness pooling between her legs before teasing a single finger into her-- never once removing his lips from her clit.

He sucks harshly while his finger simultaneously searches for the spongy spot inside of her. She squirms around his digit, and Harry has to use his other hand to pin her hips down.

“Hold still,” he instructs.

“I can’t,” Misty whines. “I need another finger.”

She’s practically begging at this point, and it makes Harry so smug. “Ohhh,” he says, lips ghosting her thighs again, “So you’re the one calling the shots, are you?”

He’s teasing, of course, because he knows that she absolutely is the one in control of everything that’s going on right now.  But the way she’s dripping, tugging on his hair and practically shoving his face into her-- as well as verbally begging him-- strokes his ego.

“Please,” she groans.  “I want-- fuck-- I need to cum.”

Harry smirks up at her, tutting his lips.  “Not even embarrassed to be so needy?” he teases.    “My god…”

As much as he loves to tease her, though, he wants to make her cum more than anything else. And seeing her on the brink like this-- already-- makes him all the more eager. So he adds a second finger, pumping his digits in and out and lapping at her clit like it’s his last meal.  

She lets out an obscene moan, louder than any of the others she’s let out, and he knows she’s close. But for the sake of her pride, he knows she has to stay quiet. So he removes his hand from her hip and presses it to her mouth.

“Quiet,” he instructs, giving her face a little squeeze before putting his entire heart and soul into eating her.  

Misty is wiggling like mad now, and it takes everything in Harry to keep his mouth on her.  He knows that if he lets go of her mouth to try and pin her hips down again, she’ll expose herself— loudly— so this is a challenge Harry gladly accepts.

She stills briefly when her orgasm hits, and then her thighs are trembling around his face.  Her stomach is clenched and she’s drooling against the palm of his hand.  Her muffled moans are music to his ears, but they do sort of catch Harry off guard because he’d never guess that she’d be such a vocal cummer.  Of course, he isn’t complaining, and he wishes that he could hear her, completely unfiltered, with no one around to catch them.

Misty’s stomach relaxes a little bit at the same time she lets out a few little cries, and Harry realizes that she’s finished-- although her pussy continues to flutter with aftershocks against his tongue.  He slowly removes his hand from her wet mouth and looks up at her from under his lashes.

She looks utterly fucked, with tears in her eyes and chest rising and falling gently as she tries to catch her breath.  Harry is fascinated, thinking he’s never seen anyone so beautiful in his entire life, and he realizes that he hasn’t moved in a while when Misty squirms beneath him.

He removes his lips from her but continues to watch her, relieved when her features seem to relax and she lets out a breathy giggle.  “My god,” she says, voice somewhat hoarse.  “That was--”

“A dream,” Harry says, now allowing himself to relax a bit as well.  He looks down at her soaked pussy and grins.  “You’re messy.”

“Can you blame me?”  Misty reaches up to run a hand through her hair.  “Fuck, that was good.”

“Yeah?”  Harry smiles.  “I’m so glad.”

Misty hums, reaching down to playfully muss up Harry’s hair.  “Now, come up here so I can take care of you, pretty boy.”

Her words hit Harry’s heart, causing it to sink immediately. “Oh, doll,” he tuts,  “God, I wish you could.”

Misty frowns.  “What do you mean?”

“No blood in my veins,” Harry explains sadly, still making no effort to remove himself from between her legs.  “No blood… no boner. I don’t get hard.  I don’t cum.”

“Holy shit.”  Misty props herself up on her elbows, looking down at Harry and causing the cutest double chin Harry thinks he’s ever seen.  “Seriously?”

Harry nods.  “Seriously.  So even if you did… I wouldn’t feel anything.”

“Do you…” Misty’s voice gets quiet, as if suddenly going shy.  “Do you still get horny?”

“Yeah.”  Harry kisses Misty’s knee.  “Of course. You think I don’t feel anything while I’m eating your beautiful pussy?”

“I don’t know!” Misty whines.  “I feel like there is so much about you that I’m still learning.”

“Well,” Harry says with a sigh.  “You turn me on.  More than anyone I’ve ever known.  My body may not be able to physically show it… but you do something to me that I haven’t felt in years.”

“So I’ll never be able to suck you off?”  Misty pouts.

Harry smiles sadly.  “I’m afraid not, sweet girl.”

“Holy shit.” Misty frowns. “That fucking sucks.”

Harry laughs. “I mean… it’s not so bad. I get to make you feel good.” He licks softly at her pussy in an attempt to begin cleaning her up, and she flinches out of sensitivity, causing him to chuckle.

“I hate it though,” Harry admits, “kind of. I hate that I can’t…. well… pardon my French here but—“

“Fuck me?” Misty finishes. “You hate that you can’t fuck me? Because I want you to.”

Harry snorts. “Well damn, miss Misty. Never expected you to be so forward but yes, I hate that I can’t fuck you the way you deserve to be fucked.”

Misty frowns. “I just want to make you feel good.”

“You do make me feel good.,” Harry says with a smile. “Every second that we’re together feels better than the last.” He licks at her pussy once again, smiling at the way she wiggles against his tongue instantaneously.

“Now,” he says, “let’s get you cleaned up and get that English paper done, hm?”

-------

It’s the night of Misty’s sorority homecoming, and Misty is having a less than ideal time.

It isn’t that the venue isn’t wonderful, or that her friends aren’t being lovely. Everything seems perfect from the outside, and Misty knows she should be enjoying it. But her problem isn’t with the event itself— it’s the fact that she’s here alone.

Because the one person she’d wanted to bring as her date happens to be a ghost.

Harry had watched her get ready all day, constantly telling her how gorgeous she looked and laughing, amused, when she’d tried countless times to get him to give in and come with her. Of course he wasn’t going to do that, and she understood, but still.

He’d sent her off with a kiss, reminding her one last time how absolutely stunning she looked and promising to be waiting up for her the minute she returned home.  And she’d left, reluctantly, because she knew he was right— she did need to go off and live her life.

But god, what she would give to have him here right now.

“Misty!”  

Misty realizes she’s been staring at the wall, the drink in her hand nearly spilling over, when she’s startled out of her thoughts.  Angie walks excitedly towards her.  

Angie, of course, looks stunning.  She’s wearing a long, blue gown that compliments her eyes nicely, and her hair is done up in curls that are so perfectly put together they don’t even look real.  She flashes Misty a warm smile as she approaches.

“Girl!” she says.  “What’s wrong with you? You alright?”

Misty smiles, realizing that she probably looks silly all zoned out like this.  “Yeah, no, I’m good! Sorry. I didn’t sleep well last night.”

“You look sad,” Angie says, worry creasing her eyes.   “You sure you’re just tired?”

Misty sighs, because god, she really wishes she could explain her situation to Angie. Or anyone really.  “Yeah, I’m good.  Sorry.”

“Well you should get out there and dance!” Angie says encouragingly.  “The DJ kinda sucks but like, if you take a shot beforehand it’s not that bad.”

“He does kinda suck, doesn’t he?” Misty giggles.

“Oh, also…”  Angie hesitates before speaking her next sentence.  “Josh is looking for you.”

Misty rolls her eyes, but Angie continues talking.  “I knoooow, I know he sucks but like… I don’t know, maybe if you got drunk and made out a little bit it would--”

“Why would I do that?” Misty asks.  “He came here with Brooke anyway!”

“Oh yeah, and she’s pissed about it,” Angie giggles. “Everyone knows he was just trying to make you jealous.  Poor Brooke.”

“Yeah,’ Misty says.  “Josh sucks.”

“You know, I don’t know why you won’t give him a chance!” Angie leans against the wall, taking a sip of the bright orange drink in her glass.  “I mean, he like, very clearly wants you.”

“I don’t want him,” Misty replies.  “Like, at all.  If he can’t take a hint, then--’

Misty trails off when she notices Angie squinting over her shoulder.  “Who the hell--”  Angie whispers.

“What?”  Misty turns slowly, and her jaw drops when she sees what it is that Angie is looking at.  

In walks Harry, physical body and all, waving at everyone like he’s known them all his life.

Is she dreaming? Surely she has to be.  She shakes her head, then reaches up to her forehead as if to check her temperature.  Can everyone else see him?  How is he here?

Her movement catches Harry’s eye, and he beams at her, turning his full attention towards her and heading in her direction.  “Misty!” He calls, waving at her.

Angie’s jaw is practically on the floor, as are the jaws of almost every girl in the room.  “You know him?” Angie asks.

And honestly, Misty isn’t sure what the right answer to that question is.  “I--” is all she can manage to get out.

Harry approaches, and Misty is not only greeted by his delicious cinnamon scent, but a strong, spicy cologne. He looks delicious in this suit, and when he hugs her she shivers, partly because of his cold skin and partly (mostly) because she can’t believe her eyes.

“Hiya, darling,” Harry says, wrapping Misty up in a chilly hug and kissing her cheek.  “You look absolutely beautiful tonight.”

“Thank you,” Misty manages to stammer out, although her facial expression must give away how confused she is.  

Harry only smiles down at her, reaching up gently to close her mouth.  He then turns to Angie with a pleasant smile.  “I don’t believe we’ve met,” he says, extending a hand.  “I’m Harry.”

Angie wastes no time, reaching forward to shake his hand quickly.  She seems taken aback by the temperature of his hands, but Harry pays it no mind.  Instead he brushes it off with a quick, “Don’t mind the cold hands.  Can never quite get used to the weather out here.”

Misty giggles, awkwardly, wrapping her arm around Harry’s back.  “Darling,” she says, as forcibly normal as possible, “I had no idea you were coming tonight.”

“Wanted to surprise you!” Harry answers cooly, before turning back to Angie.  “I’m sorry, love, I didn’t catch your name…?”

“It’s Angie!” Angie blurts, cheeks growing redder by the minute.  She giggles like a little schoolgirl.  “Misty never mentioned she had a boyfriend… much less such a handsome one.”

Harry smiles.  “I’m flattered, Angie.  Thank you.  But no, actually, Misty and I are just casual for now.  We met a few summers ago during her spring break back home.  We’re… oh, I don’t know what to call it… talking? I suppose?”  Harry laughs, grinning down at Misty.

Misty, still in shock, misses a beat before realizing that he’s addressing her.  She laughs stiffly.  “Yes,” she says, “‘talking’ is a good word.”

Harry grins back at Angie.  “And you?  Where’s your lucky fellow tonight?”

“Oh,” Angie says, biting at her lip, growing visibly excited at the mention of her date.  “He’s um… he’s somewhere around here. I guess we’re uh— talking as well.”

“Ah,” Harry says, “I see.”

He’s so ridiculously chipper, so casually cool, and Misty is growing more and more impatient by the minute.  She laughs, accidentally cutting Angie off just as she begins a sentence.

“Angie, I’m sorry, but would you mind if I took Harry outside for a bit? I didn’t realize he was going to be here tonight and we… uh…” She looks up at Harry, who only grins smugly back at her,  “We have a bit of catching up to do.”

“Oh sure!” Angie says.  “Of course, babe, go have fun.”  She smiles brightly at Harry.  “It was so nice meeting you, I’ll catch up with you both later, yeah?”

“Yeah!” Harry says, warmly. “Of course!”

Misty smiles at Harry,  but the look in her eyes informs Harry that she has a lot to say.  He smiles, so ridiculously casual and sweet, and takes her hand.

“After you sunshine,” he says.  

Misty rolls her eyes, but she does smile softly to herself as she leads him outside. Harry doesn’t know if she means to, but she gives his hand a slight squeeze as she walks.  He gives her hand a squeeze right back, far more intentional than hers, and her breathy little giggle does not go unnoticed by him.

Harry eyes the room, taking in his surroundings and looking for who he has decided is his number one enemy in life (and technically death)-- Josh.  He doesn’t find him at first, and he has to admit that his heart sinks a bit at the thought of not being able to show Misty off right to Josh’s face.  But then he finds him, outside smoking a cigar with a few other guys, and Harry perks up once again.

Misty doesn’t even acknowledge the boys as she continues to lead Harry to a quiet corner of the garden, but Harry of course isn’t going to stand for that.  Not when he has the satisfaction of seeing Josh’s face light up upon Misty’s arrival only to completely drop half a second later when he sees she’s with somebody.  Harry’s not letting it end there.

“Evening, guys.”  Harry raises his free hand to his forehead, giving the group an effortless salute.   “Gorgeous night, innit?”

Josh takes the bait, immediately stepping out of the circle and making his way over to Harry and Misty.  Misty doesn’t even notice until Harry is resisting her tug, and when she turns around to see who’s approaching she rolls her eyes.  “Fuckin hell,” she mumbles.

Harry, of course, has the complete opposite reaction, smiling warmly right back at Josh.

“Hey man!” Josh says, holding out his free hand.  “I’m Josh.  Don’t think I’ve ever seen you around?”

“Never been around,” Harry says matter-of-factly.  He takes Josh’s hand with a grip so firm Misty can sense it.  “I’m Harry.”

“Nice to meet you, Harry!” Josh’s smile is so fake Misty wants to scream, and she wishes she could evaporate into thin air to escape the awkward tension in the air right now.  “How do you know Misty?”

“I’m from her hometown!” Harry says.  “Met her a few spring breaks ago.  We’ve been casual for a while now.”

“Have you?”  Josh looks pointedly at Misty, and she rolls her eyes.  Harry never looks away from Josh.

“I would say so, yeah,” Harry smiles.  “On and off of course.”

“I see.”  Josh nods stiffly.

“Oh wait!” Harry says suddenly, as if a thought has just occurred to him.  “Ohhh, you’re Josh!  Misty here has told me quite a bit about you!”

Misty can feel the blood rushing to her cheeks as she glances frantically between Harry and Josh.  Josh smiles.

“Oh yeah?  All good things I hope!”

“Mmm…” Harry says in a questioning tone, shrugging a bit but maintaining his smile.

Josh stares blankly back at Harry, completely unsure of how to process what he’s just said, and Misty can’t help but giggle.

“Okay, well!” she says, trying and failing to hide the smile on her face.  “This has been super lovely but Harry and I have quite a bit of catching up to do, don’t we?”

“We sure do, pumpkin!” Harry wiggles his nose exaggeratedly at Misty and she laughs.    He turns back to Josh.  “Nice to finally meet the famous Josh,” he says.   “I’m sure I’ll see ya around!”

“Uh,” Josh stammers.  “Yeah.  See ya.”

Misty tugs Harry away from Josh and over to a secluded corner of the garden, and Harry shoots Josh a pointed and intimidating look over his shoulder before turning to Misty.  She tries to be serious, but she can’t stop herself from giggling.. “Harry what the hell!” She hisses.

He smiles.  “Surprised?  Happy? Do you want to kill me?”

“Um, yes to all of the above!” Misty lightly slaps his arm.  “What are you doing here?!”

“Wanted to surprise you,” he says, reaching forward to gently hook his pinky with Misty’s.  “Figured a beautiful girl like you shouldn’t be alone on a big night like this.  I wanted to help make it special.”

Harry leans in and places a kiss right on Misty’s cheekbone.  “Besides,” he says, softer,  “I couldn’t give Josh the satisfaction of thinking he had a chance tonight.”

Misty giggles, oblivious to the way the nearby group of boys are all watching her longingly.  Harry laughs along with her, kissing her nose and then her smile.  “Are you happy, sunshine?”

“So happy,” she says, kissing him back.  “Beyond happy.”  

Misty pulls away, eyeing Harry in his suit.  Never in her life has she ever seen a more handsome man, and she lets out a hum of satisfaction.  “But,” she says slowly.  “I don’t… understand.  Your energy--”

“I’ll be fine, love,” Harry insists.  “It’s one night.  As long as you’re happy.”

“Yeah but--”

“No buts.” Harry smiles.  “Now, something tells me you haven’t danced much tonight. Is that true?”

Misty smirks.  “Didn’t feel right dancing without you.”

“Well, that’s a shame,” Harry says. “We’ll have to fix that, won’t we?”  He holds his arm out to her, raising his eyebrows.

Misty eyes his arm before giggling and linking arms with him. She shakes her head. “I can’t believe you.”

Harry leads her back inside, shooting Josh one more pointed look before holding the door open for Misty.  She’s like a giggly schoolgirl as she walks through, taking Harry’s hand in hers and giving it a long squeeze.

Misty practically floats onto the dance floor as a slower song begins, and Harry can’t believe she’s real. He twirls her under his arm, admiring the way her skirt swishes and catches the dim lights. She beams up at him brightly before wrapping an arm up around his shoulders and pulling him in. They begin swaying together as Harry pulls her in closer by her hips; the scent of her perfume just below his nose. He can feel her sigh contentedly against his chest, and it makes him smile to himself.

“It’s so nice to finally dance with you like, out in the open and stuff,” Misty says.  “Instead of looking like I’m possessed.”

Harry laughs.  “I know.  It’s nice to be seen.  It’s nice to show off my dancing.”  The minute he finishes his sentence, he spins Misty out, then in, before dipping her.  She squeals, giggling up at him and going limp in his arms.

“Love hearing you laugh like that,” Harry says, mirroring what he’d told her the first night they danced together.  “I mean it.”

He pulls her back up into him, her hair flying behind her.  “No one makes me laugh the way you do,” she admits.  “I love it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.’

A comfortable silence falls between the two of them for the next few moments, and they can’t seem to keep their eyes off of each other. Harry let’s out a boyish giggle and leans forward, pressing a peck to her nose.

“You know,” Misty says. “You’re actually a pretty good dancer for a ghost.”

“I’m not sure whether I should take offense to that or not.”

“It’s a compliment,” Misty laughs. “I’m just impressed. A lot of guys I know aren’t really good at dancing.”

“I was known to be quite the dancer in my day,” Harry says, spinning her out and then quickly back into him once again.

“Really?”

Harry gives Misty a soft little hip check. “Not at all.”

Harry and Misty laugh their way through the rest of the dance, hardly even realizing when the music slows to a stop. Harry leans down, pressing the sweetest kiss to Misty’s lips before she even has a chance to say anything, and she smiles into the kiss— communicating exactly how she’s feeling just by her kiss alone.

After a few more dances, they make their way to a table, giggling and out of breath. Harry orders Misty another drink, socializing with everyone at the table like he’s known them his whole life. And as Misty watches him through slightly buzzed and love drunk eyes, she allows herself to feel, just for the moment, that everything in her little world is perfect with Harry.

———

About an hour and a few drinks later, Misty wanders into the restroom, leaving behind a very happy Harry— who chats effortlessly with the other people at their table.  She realizes halfway through her journey that her face hurts from smiling, and she giggles to herself quietly.

Her situation may be incredibly unique, but she’s so lucky to have Harry here on her arm this evening.  She giggles, throat thick with the sweet drink she’s been sipping on and eyes hazy, before washing her hands and making her way back out into the hallway.  No one is around, and she begins to make her way back into the large dance hall when she nearly runs someone over as she turns the corner.

“Oh, sorry!” She looks up, immediately relieved to find that it’s Harry she’s bumped into.

He smiles down at her.  “Slow down there, speed racer.  Where are you going in such a hurry?”

“Coming to find you,” she says, smiling at him.  She rises up onto her toes and kisses his chin.  

“Mm.”  Harry hums, tilting his head to kiss her lips.  “Having a fun night?”

“Yes.”  She wraps her arms around his waist, pressing her face to his chest and inhaling the delicious cinnamon scent of him.  “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Yeah?” Harry presses a kiss to the top of her head.  “Me too.  So glad.”

Misty pulls away, licking her lips and adjusting Harry’s bowtie that she’d accidentally muffed up.  “How are you feeling?”

“Fine!” Harry insists.  “Like I could run a marathon.”

‘Oh yeah?”  Misty eyes him quizzically, and he laughs.

“I mean… no,” he says. “But I feel fine.”

Misty groans.  “You’re using too much energy.”

“Will you stop?”  He asks, pulling her closer by the small of her back. “I’m fine.”

“Promise?”

‘Promise?”

“Swear?”

Harry chuckles.  “Swear.”

“Cross your heart?”

Harry boops Misty’s nose.  “And hope to die.”

Misty rolls her eyes, reaching up to comb her fingers through Harry’s slightly messy hair.  “You’re not funny,” she says, booping his nose right back.  “But you are handsome as hell.  Especially tonight.”

“Yeah?”  Harry tilts his body, tugging at the ends of his suit jacket.  “Like it?  Picked it out myself.”

“How?”

Harry winks.  “Magic.”

“Oh god,” Misty giggles.  “Well, however you actually did it… I’m glad you did.”  She runs her hands along his shoulders and down his arms, squeezing his hands gently.  “You look fucking delicious.”

“Hardly.  You’re far too sweet to me, angel, but I figured that if I was going to be this beautiful girl’s date tonight, I needed to look the part.”

Misty hums, pulling him in by his lapel and buttoning her lips with his. He smiles against her mouth, and she licks eagerly against his bottom lip.  He knows exactly the kind of mood she’s in just by the way she’s kissing him, and he reaches up to cup the back of her neck.

“God,” she breathes, lips ghosting his. “The things I would do to you.”

Harry gulps, loving the forwardness coming from her pretty lips. “Yeah?” He nods, as if urging her to go on.

“Mm, I could devour you. It’s all I want.”

Harry tilts his head, pulling Misty closer and kissing her ear. “What else do you want?”

“To feel you,” she says. “I bet you’re so big.”

Despite having no blood in his veins, Misty’s words stroke Harry’s ego and twist his stomach into knots.  “Mm,” he hums, trying to maintain his smug demeanor.  “I am, actually.”

“Damn.”  Misty pouts, softly fingering at Harry’s bowtie.  “God I wish I could suck you.”

Harry gulps, because fuck does he sure wish that as well. He raises a hand to brush Misty’s hair back from her face, eyes flickering between her lips and her eyes.  “I know, sweet girl.  Me too.”

They spend a few moments just looking at one another, speaking without words.  Harry gently caresses her cheeks, wishing more than anything that his touch wasn’t so damn cold.   He clears his throat softly.  “We have to get back out there, you know.”

“I know,” Misty sighs.

‘You look so beautiful.”  Harry smiles, reaching forward to take Misty’s hand in his own.   “Never seen anyone so beautiful.”

“You’re one to talk,’ Misty says softly, making Harry scoff.  “Can’t take my eyes off of you.”

“Then don’t,” Harry teases.  “Does wonders for my ego when you look at me like that.” He wiggles his eyebrows.

Misty hums, reaching up to thumb at Harry’s cheek. “I want you,” she says quietly.  “So fucking badly.”

“Yeah?”  Harry says softly, gears turning in his head as he realizes the exact kind of mood Misty is in.  “What is it you want exactly, baby?”

Harry has only known Misty a short time, comparatively speaking, but he knows her well enough to know exactly what buttons to push.  He knows what that look in her eyes means, and he knows how to turn her on with only his words.  

He also knows that making her put into words exactly what she wants turns her into a messy, embarrassed puddle that turns them both on.  So he watches her expectantly.

“Well,” Misty says slowly, heat radiating off of her face.  “I want…. To suck you off.”

“I know,” Harry coos, trailing his fingertips along her jawline.  “Said that already. But you know you can’t, baby.  Doesn’t work like that.”

“I hate it,” Misty pouts.  “I just want to make you feel as good as you make me feel.”

“Making you feel good makes me feel good,” Harry says.  He waits for a response, and when it doesn’t come, tense idea forming in his head comes to fruition.

He reaches around to cup the back of her neck, scratching lightly at the hair there.  “You want me to make you feel good right now, pretty girl?  Hm?”

Misty snaps almost fully out of her trance then, glancing around nervously.  “Harry, we can’t right now.  Are you joking?  We’re in public--”

“Why not?”  Harry grins down at her.  “You know I can disappear.  Make it so that only you could see me.”

“Yeah but--”

“Nobody would know,”  he shrugs, tacking on a quick,  “that is, if you can keep quiet for me.”

Misty sighs sharply at his words, and he chuckles.  

“Sunshine, if you don’t want to, I won’t.”

“No, I…”  Misty lowers her voice, despite the fact that they’re still the only two in the hallway.  “I want to.”

“Yeah?”  Harry asks.  “You sure?  Not trying to pressure you.”

Misty looks up at him, a nervous smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “You’re not pressuring me.  I’ve always wanted to do some raunchy shit like this.”

“Oh yeah?  Bit of an exhibionist are we?”

Misty giggles.  “Harry.”

“I’ll go under the table. No one will even know I’m there.  Even if they look.”

“But where should I tell them you went?”

“Hm.”  Harry hums, considering this for a few moments.  “Cigar break.  Went out to smoke.  You were out with me for a bit but I got a phone call and you got cold.  So you came inside.”

Misty frowns. “You don’t smoke.”

“I’m also not a living human being, but here we are.”  Harry grins, pulling Misty in closer and lowering his voice.  “Gonna let me make you cum, pretty girl?  Hm?’

“Yes,” Misty whispers back, shyly avoiding his gaze.  “Yes.”

“In front of all these people?” Harry asks teasingly.  “Naughty.”

“Harry--”

He laughs, pressing a kiss to her nose.  “Alright, alright.  Go sit at the table.  I think they’re about to serve dessert anyway.”

“And you’re going to miss it?”  Misty pouts.

“Misty,” Harry says,  “You know damn well I’m going to be enjoying my own dessert.”

Misty rolls her eyes.  “I walked right into that one, didn’t I?”

“You did, yeah.”  He pinches her butt.  “Now go.  Please.  I’m hungry.”

“Oh my godddd. Fine.”

She presses one more quick kiss to Harry’s cheek and turns to leave, but he reaches forward-- taking her hand and spinning her back around.  “Wait.”

“Hm?”

“When I come in, you’ll be the only one who can see me. You’ll have to cover for me when I get under the table.”

“Okay.”  Misty nods.  “I’ll pretend I dropped something under there, and I’ll lift the table cloth.”

Harry grins.  “Alright.  Good girl.”

“God,” Misty laughs,  “You’re relentless, huh?”

“What do you mean?” The way Harry’s smiling, he knows exactly what Misty means.

“You just want to get me as worked up as you possibly can, don’t you?”

“You caught me.”

Misty rolls her eyes.  “God you’re annoying.  Okay, I’m going.  See you soon.”

“See you soon, bug.”

Misty turns once again to exit, and Harry gives her bum a quick and subtle slap, which makes her giggle.  

As Harry watches her go, he tries to ignore the ache in his bones.  He’s exhausted-- of course-- from exuding so much energy, but he doesn’t even care.  It feels so good to feel alive again like this.  To be on the arm of a pretty girl, in the midst of a bunch of young happy people with their whole lives ahead of them.

He sighs, pushing his yearning feeling far out of his head and ignoring the exhaustion in his body.  He’s going to give Misty a few minutes to get settled in her seat before he joins her, and he thinks maybe he should go hide in the bathroom for a moment to give himself a bit of an energy break.

The idea is quickly shattered, however, when Angie and her date turn the corner, giggling all over one another. Angie stops dead in her tracks as soon as she sees Harry, and she grows visibly embarrassed.

“Oh! Harry! Hi!”

Harry smiles politely. “Hello Angie. This must be your lucky man.”

Angie smiles shyly up at her date. “Yeah,” she says, “this is Eric. Eric, this is Harry.  He’s Misty’s date tonight.”

“Hey man!” Eric removes his arm from around Angie’s shoulders and holds it out for Harry. “Nice to meet you!”

Eric seems like a pleasant guy, a bit on the short side with big brown eyes and hair that has been perfectly gelled for this evening. Harry shakes his hand warmly, grateful for the fact that Eric hardly seems to even notice the temperature of his hands.

“Where you from, brother?” Eric asks. “Never seen you around before.”

“I’m from Misty’s hometown.”  Harry nods. “Known each other for ages. It’s a sort of casual thing between us, you know?”

“Right on!” Eric grins. “Sort of casual for Ang and I too, I suppose.”

Angie’s face falls just the slightest bit for only half a second, and if Harry had blinked he’d have missed it. She smiles. “Yeah!” She adds. “Super casual.”

“How wonderful.” Harry grins. “You’re a lucky man, Eric.”

Angie blushes at Harry’s words, then gives Eric’s arm a squeeze. “Harry you’re way too nice.” She lets go of Eric’s arm, turning towards the restroom door. “I’m gonna run to the bathroom, if you guys will just excuse me for a second.”

Harry and Eric mumble their goodbyes as Angie makes her way quickly into the bathroom.  Harry smiles at Eric, nodding his head as a parting gesture before turning to make his way to Misty.

“Wait, Harry.”

Eric’s voice surprises Harry, and he whirls back around.  “What’s up man?”

Eric seems hesitant, opening his mouth and then closing it.  He laughs, as if embarrassed of his own self, before speaking.  “Man… I don’t know why I’m asking you this.”

Harry steps back towards Eric, his friendly smile never leaving his face.  “You alright?”

“No I’m good! I just… maybe it’s cause I’m drunk… but I’m--” Eric sighs.  “Dude, I don’t know what to do.”

“About what?”

“Angie,” Eric admits.  “You know, like, I really like her and I-- I don’t know.”

“Mm.”  Harry nods.  “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know if… if she feels the same.”  Eric seems nervous, and Harry smiles reassuringly.

“Are you kidding me?  Do you not see the way she looks at you?”  Eric’s eyebrows furrow, as if what Harry is saying makes no sense to him, so Harry continues.  “She looks at you like you hung the bloody moon, mate.”

“Seriously?”

“You know, I asked her about you earlier. ‘Course, I didn’t know who you were.  But when I asked who her lucky man was, her face lit up like the sun.  How long have you been an item?”

Eric smiles a dimpled smile, seemingly relaxed.  “Almost two months now, I would say.”

“Why the hesitation, then?  If you don’t mind me asking.”

Eric sighs.  “I don’t know, man.  I guess I just…I don’t want to do things wrong.”

“You want to know what I think?” Harry takes a step forward.

“Yeah. If you don’t mind.”

Harry takes in a big breath, pondering the words he’s about to say. He opens his mouth, then closes it, before taking a step towards Eric. “I think,” he begins slowly, “that life is too short.”

Eric chuckles. “Man, it really is, huh?”

Harry nods. “Way too fucking short—pardon my French- to let perfect moments pass you by.”

“Yeah?”

“Mate, if you really feel this way about her, and you know you have this beautiful connection… why wait? You know what I mean?  There were--er, are-- so many moments in my life that I look back on and think, ‘god if only I hadn’t been so stupd.  If only I had done this, or said that.  If only, if only, if only.  And I think…”  Harry sighs.  “I think that when it comes to telling someone how you feel about them…  it’s important to be honest and vulnerable. That’s what makes you feel human.”  Harry smiles, almost lost in his own thoughts.  

“And feeling human,” he adds,  “The good and the bad, is what life is.”

Eric doesn’t reply right away. He smiles, taking in everything that Harry is saying to him. “Shit dude,” he says, after a long while. “That’s some profound shit.”

“Nah,” Harry says, playing it off with a cheeky smile. “We’re just drunk.”

Eric laughs at this. “Maybe. But that was really good advice.”

Harry shrugs. “Just telling you what I wish someone had told me.”

“Yeah.” Eric grins. “Well thanks man.  Ang and I were coming over here to like….” Eric lowers his voice, “.... do stuff, but like, I want her to know it’s more than that for me. You know?”

“I know.”  The door to the women’s restroom begins opening and Harry raises his eyebrows cheekily. “Off you go then,” he tacks on quietly.

Harry turns to exit just as Angie enters, and he can’t help but feel somewhat giddy in his stomach for Eric. He hears Eric and Angie chatting softly behind him when he’a suddenly stopped by the sound of his own name.

“Harry!”

Harry turns on his heel. “Hm?”

“Thanks.”  

Angie glances between Eric and Harry, a bit confused but still smiling. Harry shoots her a quick wink before raising two fingers to his eyebrow and saluting Eric loosely. Eric smiles, an unspoken confirmation between him and Harry, and Harry rounds the corner, leaving him and Angie to talk things out.

And now, there’s only one pressing matter on Harry’s mind:

Making Misty cum until she can’t think straight.

Misty’s stomach churns as she watches Harry enter the room.  She is so nervous for what she knows is about to happen, and yet she’s so excited.  She makes casual small talk-- of course about Harry-- with the others at her table.  “Yeah he went out for a cigar and then got an important phone call from work” and “oh yeah, we met a few springs back.  It’s been very casual” and “God, I know, he’s handsome, isn’t he?”

Harry’s eyes never leave Misty’s face, and he’s smirking so deeply it makes Misty’s stomach (and other parts of her) twitch. “Hiya, baby,” he says quietly, and Misty has to raise her drink to her lips to cover up the enormous smile on her face.

“You remember you have to help me out here?” Harry asks, and Misty doesn’t answer him. Instead, she subtly knocks her knife off of the table.

It doesn’t cause much of a commotion, just enough for the others at the table to glance in her direction.  “Oops!” Misty says, “My bad!” She leans over, lifting the tablecloth and shooting Harry a subtle glance.

He grins. “Sneaky girl,” he mutters, before dropping to his knees and crawling under the bit of space that Misty has opened up for him.

Misty tries to cover up the rustling of the tablecloth as Harry crawls, and luckily the movement goes pretty much completely unnoticed by all of her drunken peers.  Harry settles himself beneath the table, and grins at her.   He presses a kiss to her knee.  

“Still good with this?”

“Yes,” Misty whispers.  “Are you?”

Harry scoffs, gently running his hands up her calves.  “What a dumb question.”

Blood rushes to Misty’s cheeks as she drops the tablecloth and sits up straight. She offers the others at her table a forced smile, but no one seems to notice or care.  She squirms, parting her legs ever so slightly.

Harry reaches for the bottom of her long dress, taking his time and really teasing her by building up anticipation as he drags the fabric up her calves. He kisses the skin he exposes as he goes, taking care to love on her knees a little extra because he knows they’re sensitive.  Misty instinctively opens her legs a bit more, and Harry chuckles quietly.

“Gonna need you a bit more open than that, love.” He gently pries her knees apart, bunching up the fabric of her dress and gasping quietly at the sight before him when he realizes what he’s looking at.

“Ohhh, baby,”  he breathes, “no panties?”  He reaches forward with a single finger, teasing at where he knows she’s already damp. “My god, you’re a dream.”

She wiggles a bit in her seat, hoping for more friction from Harry’s finger, and Harry chuckles almost menacingly. “Squirmy little thing, aren’t you? Barely even touching you yet.”

Harry leans in, pressing another slow kiss to her knee before trailing his lips and tongue up her thigh. He drapes the skirt of her dress over his head, immediately shivering at the feeling of her warmth and wondering if she likes the sensation of his coldness.  

Under the protection of her skirt, all Harry can see, hear, and smell is Misty, and he takes a moment to really soak it all in. Her scent is intoxicating, and he swears that if he were alive, he would be more than content to live out the rest of his days with his face buried between her legs.

Harry takes a big deep breath in through his nose, and exhales slowly, making a point to blow against her skin. He can feel her subtly shiver, and he grins.  This is going to be easier than he thought.

For him at least.

“Now careful,” he taunts.  “Gonna keep quiet for me?” He smirks, pulling away to tease her skin lightly with his finger.  “That was a trick question.  Know you’re going to because you don’t have a choice.”

Misty kicks lightly at Harry, and he grunts.  “Ouch.  Feisty thing.”  He grins. “Alright, alright.  I’ll stop teasing.”

And somehow, Misty doesn’t believe him.

Harry leans in, licking and kissing softly at her clit, just to get her nice and relaxed.  His curls tickle at her thighs, and he hooks his arms around her legs to hold her in place. He’s hardly even started, and yet she’s already so wet. He’d be lying if he said that didn’t do wonders for his ego.

He can faintly hear the conversation going on above the table, but he does make out his name and something about missing out on dessert.  

“He’ll be fine,” Misty says.  “I’ll grab him a slice in a bit.”

“What a generous girl you are,” Harry mumbles, although he isn’t sure if Misty’s heard him or not.  If she had heard him, though, he doesn’t give her time to react.  He opens his lips wider, lapping at her clit from a new angle that makes her shiver.  She squirms in her seat, lowering herself just a bit so that Harry has easier access, and he unhooks one of his arms from her legs to rub gently at her clit while he repositions himself.

Misty squirms against him, and her hands make their way under the table.  Harry isn’t sure what exactly she’s doing until her skirt is lifted up from over his head, and he blinks in the dim light.  

“What, baby?”  he asks.

She threads her fingers through his curls, squeezing, before gently trying to push his head back down.

“Oh you want my hair?”  Harry chuckles. “Cute.”

He licks gently at her clit, enjoying the way her fingers scratch a bit harshly into his scalp. He hums. “Fuck, that feels good.”

Misty jolts when Harry kisses a specific spot, and he chuckles. “Ohhh...You liked that, didn’t you?”  Harry pulls back, examining the spot he just kissed.  “Noted.”

Harry leans in then, attacking the same spot he’d just been lapping at, and the way Misty yanks suddenly at his curls informs him that it’s definitely a good spot.  He moves his hand to grip either side of her waist.

“Misty,” Harry gulps quietly, grasping at her as if he can feel her slipping through his fingers. “Baby, please, I need—“

Misty’s fingers curl into Harry’s hair even more, tugging slightly until Harry finds himself with his forehead pressed to her thigh. He shivers, mumbling against her skin,  “Need you to open up just a bit more for me, baby.”  Without thinking, he presses a kiss to the fleshy spots just below her pussy as she continues to scratch affectionately at his head.  “You’ve done such a good job.  Been good so far.  Need you open.”  Harry sponges kisses along the hem of her dress.

Misty pulls Harry’s head up gently by his curls and rubs her thumb along his cheekbone before squeezing lightly at his cheeks, opening her legs more and pulling him closer to her pussy.

Harry needs only that squeeze as a starter gun, and then he’s off. His hands find their way up to her hips as he bunches up her skirt.  He presses several chaste kisses to the velvet soft skin of her inner thigh, taking his time to soak in her warmth before attaching his lips to her pussy again.

He flattens his tongue along her, licking a long broad stripe just to get the wetness all soaked into his tongue before wrapping his lips around her clit.  He sucks softly, flicking his tongue between his slightly parted lips to give her a heavier sensation.

Misty hums quietly, letting her nails trail along his scalp to the back of his neck.  He knows she wants to moan, and it only encourages him to work harder.  He removes his lips from her clit with a popping noise that startles her, and she lifts the tablecloth ever so slightly.  Their eyes meet, and Harry can tell she’s already fucked.  He grins.

“They couldn’t hear that,” he reminds her. “You’re the only one who has to keep quiet here.”

There’s a visible lump in Misty’s throat as she sighs, begrudgingly removing her eyes from Harry and focusing on the party occurring around her.  Harry clicks his tongue.

“Ohh,” Harry coos,  “poor baby.  Feels so good and she can’t even moan for me, can she?  Sweet girl.”

Harry pulls the tablecloth out of her hands, yanking it back down before resuming the movement of his tongue against her clit. She squirms against him, obviously growing impatient.

“You love this so much,” Harry says,  “don’t you, sunshine?”

Harry doesn’t know if he’s ever in his existence had it this bad for anyone before, and somewhere deep down he knows that Misty fully cognizant of the power she holds over him. It’s exciting for the both of them really, and Harry knows that Misty does not take it lightly.  Still, he loves the exhilaration of teasing her to no end-- he loves how wet it gets her and he especially loves being the only one who gets to see her like this.

Harry lets out a low-bellied grunt, and Misty sighs, an almost inaudible mumble of “oh god” passing her pretty lips.  Harry removes his mouth from her clit, tilting his head to attach it instead to the sensitive skin of her inner thigh with a mumbled coo of,  “Careful.”  He sucks harshly, pulling until he feels her skin against his teeth and then he lets off with a pop.  Misty wants to moan so badly it’s killing her, and Harry can see her toes curling in her heels.  He kisses the spot he’s just bitten, where he knows a mark is already beginning to blossom.

“Feel how wet you are?” He asks.  “Feel how messy you get just from a bit of teasing?  Are you not embarrassed to be so wet??”

“Christ.”  Misty’s voice is so low only Harry can hear it, but he smiles against her inner thigh when he does.

“How cute,” he muses, reaching out to feel the stickiness pooling between her legs. “I wonder what everyone would say if they knew how messy you get for me.” He brings his fingers to his lips, tasting the wetness against his fingertips and humming to himself.  “Wonder if they can smell you.”

Harry buries his tongue directly into the center of her and shakes his head a bit, ignoring the one loose curl of his that falls into his face.  He can feel Misty’s entire body tense up, and he knows she’s close.  He takes his opportunity to make it a million times worse for her; with one hand he reaches up and spreads her lips further apart.  With the other hand, he gently tickles at the back of her knee.

She squirms, partly from his touch against the sensitive part of her leg but mostly from the sensation of his tongue against her clit.  He can see her fingers clench against her chair, and he smiles before buying his own fingers inside of her warmth.  Misty all but lurches forward, and Harry is almost worried he’s given her too much too quickly.  Still, he’s nothing if not a tease, so he curls his fingers gently inside of her.

He smirks, deciding that she’s had enough teasing and wanting to make her cum. He can hear her let out a quiet, breathy giggle, obviously confused at the sensations she’s feeling, overwhelmed with the desire to both laugh and moan, and when he thinks she’s had enough he pulls his fingers away from her knee.

Harry hums against her core, shaking his head. “Cum for me, sweet girl.”

Misty grips the edge of the table at the same time Harry notices her stomach clenches, and then he knows she’s cumming because her knees begin trembling.  He can feel her orgasm pulsating through her, and he works her through it patiently with his tongue.  He curls his fingers a bit more, and sucks a bit harsher, and for a moment he completely loses himself in his own actions.

He’s never seen Misty so wound up, and she lightly stomps her heels against the ground in frustration.  He knows she feels good-- hell, he feels good, too-- and he tries his best to keep her as grounded and still as he possibly can.

It’s when she tangles her fingers in his hair to lightly tug his head away that he realizes he hasn’t stopped, and she’s completely spent.

Harry sits for a moment, staring at her soaked pussy and now slightly bruised thighs, and he admires his work.  She combs her fingers lovingly through his curls, and he knows she’s thanking him for making her feel so good.  It’s then, of course, that he realizes exactly how exhausted he is.  He turns his head to kiss gently at her wrist, then allows himself to sit for a moment and catch his breath.

He doesn’t know how much longer he’s going to last like this. He’s never used this much energy in manifesting before, and he didn’t expect it to be this hard. But Misty is having a wonderful time, and of course so is he— he doesn’t want the night to end by any means, but god, is he ready to lay down.

Harry musters up all the strength he can manage and taps Misty’s knee. “Can you let me out, sweet girl?”

It takes Misty a moment before she lifts the tablecloth, pretending to mess with her heels.  She gives Harry the softest smile the moment their eyes meet, and she looks completely wrecked in a way that only he would recognize.  He chuckles.

“Got you that good, did I?” He begins crawling out from under the table, trying his best to cover how exhausted he is.  As he passes Misty he presses a chaste kiss to her nose, making her giggle.  “I’ll be back.”  

He rises, weakly, to his feet-- and he hopes Misty doesn’t notice how slowly he moves, but she does, and she frowns.  He brushes it off, refusing to make it into a big deal, and then disappears from sight.

Misty is left, trying to cover up the fact that she’s struggling to catch her breath-- and she smiles the moment she sees Harry physically enter the room.

He’s grinning- because of course he is— and his finger guns in Josh’s direction do not go unnoticed by Misty. She rolls her eyes as he approaches the table, smiling brightly at everyone in the small circle.

“Sorry,” he says convincingly, “my mum called.”

Misty smiles up at him. “Oh that’s okay, my love! Everything okay?”

Harry grins at her, reaching over to take her hand in his own. “Everything is absolutely fine. Couldn’t be better, in fact.”

Misty grins, obviously flustered just by the way he’s looking at her. “Yeah?”

He leans forward, kissing her nose lightly.  “Yeah.”  

Harry turns to everyone at the table, smiling that charming smile that Misty is so obsessed with.  “Now,” he says, “Am I too late to get a slice of this cheesecake?”

----

Harry drops, completely spent, onto Misty’s bed.  As soon as she closes the door behind her she rushes to him, immediately undoing the laces on his left shoe.

He’s paler now, his skin looking thin and white, and he smiles sleepily down at her as she gets to work tugging his shoe off.  She seems worried, but he only chuckles.

“Had so much fun with you,” he says, voice weak.  “Did you have fun?”

“Harry, you shouldn’t have put so much energy forward.”

“Wanted to,” he says.  “Worth it.”

“Harry,” Misty coos, tugging the shoe off of his foot before working on the other.  “My god, look at you.”

“Just sleepy,” Harry says.  “I’ll be completely back to normal tomorrow.  Promise.”

Misty is unconvinced; she frowns as she tugs off his other shoe before sitting fully on the bed, crawling up the length of his body.

“I’m gonna undress you,” she says.  “Is that okay?”

“Yeah,” he sighs,  “‘Course it’s okay.”

Misty begins by unbuttoning his suit jacket, then the buttons of his shirt. Harry watches her the entire time, reveling in her warmth. “Feels nice to be taken care of like this.  Wish you didn’t have to.”

“Harry, it’s the least I can do.  You’ve done so much for me.   You shouldn’t have come out tonight.  You should have…”  She notices the way he’s watching her, and it catches her off guard.  “What?”

Harry grunts, trying weakly to prop himsef up on his elbows.  “Do you realize,’ he says, voice frail, “that this is the most fun I’ve had in years?  That getting to feel alive, with the most beautiful girl I’ve ever known, is worth any pain I might be in now?”  He catches Misty’s worried frown, and quickly tacks on, “But I’m not in pain. Just sleepy.”

Misty sighs. “I can’t help but feel like it’s my fault.”

“Awfully selfish of you,” Harry teases. “Not everything is about you, you know.”

Misty rolls her eyes, using all of her strength to sit Harry up and remove his jacket. Harry chuckles, a weak laugh that trails off into a cough. “I promise,” he says, as she settles him back down. “I’m okay. I’m just sleepy. It’s not like I’m dying.”

He watches her expectantly, waiting for a reaction and obviously proud of his stupid joke.

Misty shoots him a deadpanned glare that makes him cackle. “Come onnn,” he says, “that was a good one!”

“How can you still be so annoying when you’re so exhausted?” Misty says, chuckling as she works to unbutton his shirt.

Harry doesn’t answer her, propping an arm up behind his head and watching her work.  She allows her eyes to trail down his body as she reaches the bottom button, pausing at a small patch of hair she notices leading from his bellybutton down into his trousers.  Her breath hitches in her throat as she comes to the realization that she’s never seen him beneath his clothes.

Harry seems to realize this at the same time, and his smile fades just a hair.  “What, baby?”

Misty doesn’t answer him.  Instead she slowly pulls the two sides of his shirt apart further, exposing his entire torso.  She lets out her breath slowly, surprised at how completely normal he looks. She reaches a hand forward but stops herself, unsure if she should actually touch him.

“You know I used to have a tattoo there,” Harry offers.

Misty’s eyes flicker from his tummy to his face.  “Yeah?”

“Yeah.  I had a ton actually.  But I guess when you die, they don’t come with you.”

“What were they?”

Harry trills his lips.  “God I had so many I don’t even remember all of them.  There was a butterfly right here--” he points to the direct center of his stomach, --”some swallows here--” his collarbones,  “and…” Harry smirks, pointing to his hip bones.  “Some ferns here.”

“God.”  Misty continues to scan at his body, eyes landing on a soft purple mark on his ribs.

Harry knows immediately what Misty sees, and he smiles softly at her, taking her hand in his as his face takes on a far more serious expression.  “Where I landed,” he explains. “When I—“

“Oh my god...” Misty is torn between wanting to touch the scar and wanting to leave it be, and Harry seems to be completely sympathetic to that because he only chuckles.

“It’s weird, isn’t it?” He asks. “Took me a while to get used to.”

“I didn’t…” Misty trails off, confused as to how she should even word her question. “I mean, I didn’t think—“

“I know,” Harry says. “It’s weird. I mean how could you ever even know what to expect to see on a ghosts body? How could you  expect, like… a sign of death on another body.”

“I just—“ Misty genuinely doesn’t know what to say, and she’s so thankful that Harry doesn’t pressure her at all.

“I know,” he repeats. “It’s weird.”

“Can I…” Misty’s voice is hardly above a whisper when she speaks. “Can I touch it?”

Harry smiles softly.  “If you’d like.”

“I--”  Misty trails off, unsure of what exactly it is that she’d like to say.  She reaches forward with a timid hand, almost pulling her hand completely back before touching the gentle purple mark.  It’s not raised-- she doesn’t know why she was expecting it to be-- but it’s colder than the entire rest of his body.  She gasps without even realizing what she’s doing.  Harry flinches slightly at her touch, but he doesn’t move.

He allows Misty to run a loving finger over his scar, taking in exactly what it is she’s looking at, before he speaks.  “Are you alright?”

“What?”  It takes Misty a moment to realize what he means, and she tears her eyes from the scar immediately. “Oh god, yeah, sorry.  I’m okay, I just--”

“It’s weird,” Harry says for what feels like the ninetieth time.  “I know.”

Misty sighs, hesitating a bit, as if she wants to say something more. She scans his body again, glancing up at his eyes sadly, before slowly moving forward.  

She moves as if in slow motion, and Harry watches her with baited breath. She squirms a bit, angling her body a certain way, and lowering her face towards his torso.  Harry realizes with sadness what she’s doing, and pressure builds behind his eyes when she lowers her lips to the purple scar.  She presses the most velvet soft kiss Harry thinks he’s ever felt into his flesh, and his eyes cloud with mist.

Misty trails her lips from his ribs up to his collarbone. There is nothing but love in her movements, and Harry tries to swallow down a lump in his throat.  His breath is shaky as he looks down at her, loving on his body.  

She seems lost in her movements, kissing all over his torso as her lashes flutter slowly.  She lowers her lips to his stomach, and he can’t stop the single tear that slips from his left eye.

He hasn’t been loved on like this in years, and he’d almost forgotten what it felt like.

There is no sexual intention behind her kisses, and her low breath from her nose tickles gently just above his belly button.  Harry reaches up to dab at his eye, trying to prevent another tear from escaping.  “Misty,” he says, voice cracking the slightest bit.  “Darling--”

“Harry,” she says softly against the skin of his tummy.  She lifts her head, looking into his eyes and giving him a sympathetic smile.  She reaches up to wipe at his cheek with her thumb, and she doesn’t move her hand away when she’s done. She sighs.  “You are so, so beautiful.”

“Misty,” he says.  “I don’t--”  He trails off when she pecks at his collarbone, trailing warm, wet kisses up his neck.  She noses at his cheek when her lips hit his chin, and then she’s kissing his lips.  It’s all so gentle, so ridiculously intimate and sweet, and Harry doesn’t even realize he’s still crying when two more tears roll down his cheek.

“My sweet boy,” she says, pulling away to wipe gently at his cheeks.  “My god.”

“It’s not fair,” Harry whispers.  “It’s not fair.”

“I know,” she says, continuing to run her thumbs over his cheeks.  “I know, baby.  But it is what it is.  And Harry…”  She smiles softly.  “We can’t let it hang over the time we have left like a raincloud.  Hm?  Remember that?”

Harry laughs in spite of himself, knowing that she’s repeating his own words.   “I know,” he says.   He reaches up weakly to cup her face as well.  “I just want to be able to love you the way you deserve. Fully.  Without fear.”

Misty’s heart freezes the minute she hears Harry speak the word “love” but she doesn’t react.  Instead, she leans in, kissing his jaw.  “Harry,” she says slowly.  “I know it’s not ideal.  But you have given me the best month of my entire life.  I’ll never be able to thank you enough.”

“Don’t,” Harry says, “Don’t say that.  You don’t need to thank me.  Misty I--”

“Shhh.”  Misty rubs her thumb along his bottom lip.  “I know.”  She smiles now, trying her best to hold back her own tears.  “I’m so… so thankful for you.  My beautiful boy. We will meet again, okay?  I promise you.”

Harry swallows thickly.  “I know we will.  I’m coming back the moment I can.”

“See?” she says, smiling.  “And next time will be even better.  But you know what?”  she sniffs, feeling herself slip further into sadness and begging herself not to cry. “We’ve still got a few more days, yeah?”

“We do, yeah.”  Harry chuckles, reaching up to wipe at his eyes.  “God, I’m a sap aren’t I?  I didn’t think this was going to hit me so hard.”

“It’s good, my love!  Sometimes it’s okay to let your emotions out like this.   You’ve done so much for me.  Let me love on you a little bit for a change.”

“You love on me constantly!”

“No,” Misty says.  “Not enough.”  She kisses him again before sitting up.  “Let me get changed.  We’ll go to sleep.  We both need it.”

Harry watches her rise to her feet, and he reaches up to wipe at his damp face.  “You’re too good to me, sunshine.”

“Yeah, yeah.  You can thank me later.”

Harry snorts and Misty throws him a joking glance over her shoulder.  “I’ll be right back.”

Misty disappears into the hallway, making her way to the bathroom to wash her face, brush her teeth, and put on a t-shirt.  She allows herself a few tears, crying quietly to herself for only a minute because god, it hurts so bad.  It hurts feeling something so deep for somebody who isn’t even alive; for someone who she knows she’s going to have to spend 90% of the next year without.  

As soon as she allows herself that moment of weakness, however, she forces it to pass.  Wiping her tears away, she continues with her bedtime routine, making sure she doesn’t look like she’s been crying before making her way back into her bedroom.

When she gets there, Harry is fast asleep on top of her bed-- still in a state of various undress.  She recalls him telling her that ghosts don’t sleep, not exactly, but he looks so peaceful-- wherever he is right now.  

Misty works to gently undress him the rest of the way as he blinks sleepily, hardly even responding to her at all. And when he’s in only a pair of boxers, Misty crawls into bed beside him after turning off the light.

She rolls onto her side, watching him as he sleeps-- or, whatever it is ghosts do.  He looks so beautiful, and she reaches forward to gently stroke at the scar on his ribs again. She loves him, she thinks.  Even though she’s only known him for a short amount of time, she loves him. And there’s an ache in such a weirdly specific part of her heart that she can’t even begin to put into words.  

Pressing the gentlest kiss to Harry’s temple, she cuddles into his side, and he subconsciously wraps an arm lazily around her.  Misty wills herself not to cry-- not to think about the situation at all-- as she drifts gently to sleep.

-----

It’s a somber day.  Colder than usual.  Misty sits with her feet dangling over the side of her bed, and Harry stands off in the corner of her room, nervously fidgeting with some of the trinkets on her shelf.

They know it’s coming.  They’ve known it was coming for the last few days, but they’ve both been avoiding the subject, pretending that if they just ignore it, it will go away.

But it won’t go away.  And Harry has to leave.

Harry glances out the window.  It’s gray outside, matching the atmosphere in the room.  The trees blow angrily outside Misty’s window, and Harry swears he can feel the wind in his body.

“Looks like it’s going to rain,” he remarks casually.

Misty doesn’t reply, and he turns around to see her just staring sadly at him.  She isn’t crying, not yet anyway, but her eyes look damp.

“Are you sure you can’t stay?” Her voice is quiet, like she doesn’t want to be asking the question, and she won’t even look directly at him. It makes his heart-- however dead it is-- feel like its shattering, and he takes a step towards her.

He brushes her hair behind her ear.  “You know I wish I could,” he says, equally as quiet.

“And what would happen if you just… didn’t?”

“Didn’t what?”

“I don’t know.  Didn’t… go?”

Harry smiles sadly.  “It doesn’t work like that.  I don’t have a choice.”

Misty opens her mouth, then closes it again.  Her breath hitches in her throat before she lets it all out in a sigh.  “What’s it like?”  She’s speaking in a whisper.

“What is what like?”  Harry matches her tone.

“When you… go, I mean.  The process. Do you just like, fall asleep?  Or is it like you just blink and you’re in the void?”

Despite the heaviness of their conversation, Harry chuckles.  “Somewhere in between, I suppose.”

“Does it hurt?”  She gulps subconsciously, and she looks so curious and cute right now Harry could scream.

He shakes his head. “No.  Doesn’t feel like anything.”

“So one minute you’re here and the next you’re just…”  She trails off, and Harry sighs.

“Gone,” he finishes somberly.  “Yes.”

After a beat, Misty chuckles bitterly.  “Seems a bit unfair.”

“I’ll be back the first moment I can be,” Harry says, then adds with a smile, “If you’ll have me.”

“Of course I will,” she says, finally turning to face him fully.  She takes his cold hands in her own, and her warmth makes him shiver.  “I’ll wait for you every single day.”

“Don’t say that,” Harry says, shaking his head and sitting beside her on the bed.  “You have a life to live.  I don’t.”

Misty’s eyes grow damp, but she blinks back the tears just as quickly as they arrived.  “But I’m going to miss you so much,” she says through a shaky voice.

It all seems silly, really, for Harry and Misty both.  But neither of them can help it.  This connection they’ve formed in such a short amount of time weighs heavily on both of their hearts.  And Harry is certain that he would do just about anything in the universe to get another chance at life, if only to be with her.

“I’m going to miss you so much it’s going to hurt me every second,” Harry says, not a trace of humor in his voice despite the slight exaggeration.

Misty lets out her breath in a loud, shaky sigh.  She rests her head on Harry’s shoulder, and for a while they just sit there like this, him and her, pretending with all their might-- if only for a few minutes-- that this is just another day for them.  That Harry is human, and that they can grow old together.

“I have a selfish request,” Misty says after a while.

“Anything.”

Misty takes a deep breath.  “Will you come visit me?  In my dreams?”

“You already know that’s my plan.”

“Every dream?”

Harry chuckles.  “Well, that’s a bit of a tall order.  I don’t know if I’ll be able to come every night.  But, as often as I can, and as often as you’ll have me, I will come.”

“Promise?”

Harry turns to kiss Misty’s forehead.  “I promise.”

Misty closes her eyes and leans gently into Harry’s kiss, breathing in the scent of cinnamon that she’s grown to love so much.  “So when does it happen?” she asks, almost hesitantly.  “When do you… go?”

“I don’t know the exact moment,” Harry admits.  “Whenever the sun enters Sagittarius. Whatever that exact time is.”

“Is there gonna be a Sagittarius Season ghost?”  Misty asks.  “Ghost of Sagittarians past?”

Harry laughs. “I don’t think so, no.  But if there is, don’t go fallin’ in love with him now.  Sagittarians are nothin’ but trouble.”

“Don’t think I ever could,” Misty says, a bittersweet ache in her voice.  “Think I’ll only ever have feelings for you.”

Harry sighs, patting gently at Misty’s knee.  He savors her scent and her warmth for a few beats before he changes the subject.  “Your sisters will be glad to have you around again,” he says.  “I know I’ve been hoggin’ ya.  They must think you’re really goin’ through something, the way you’re keeping to yourself.”

“They wouldn’t understand even if I did try to explain it to them,” Misty replies.

Harry nods sympathetically.  “And you’re gonna have a hard time explaining to them what happened to your mysterious long distance boyfriend from back home.”

“Oh shit,” Misty says, worry suddenly showing on her face.  “What am I gonna tell them when they ask?”

“Tell them he died.”  The look on Harry’s face is so smug, and Misty can tell that he’d been holding onto that one for a while.  She rolls her eyes, but doesn’t even try to refrain from smiling.

“Oh my god, Harry.”

“It’s not wrong!”

“That’s not funny!” The smile on Misty’s face tells Harry otherwise, and he nudges her shoulder with his own.

“Alright alright.”  Harry smiles, reaching forward to interlace their fingers.  There’s a moment of drab silence, and Harry sighs thickly before finally admitting weakness. “God, I’m going to miss you.”

Misty’s smile softens, but it doesn’t completely fade.  She turns her head, pressing the softest kiss to Harry’s shoulder.  “I’m going to miss you more than you know.”

There’s a comfortable silence that falls between the two of them, and Harry interlaces his fingers with hers.  “Maybe you’ll meet a boy to take you to next year's homecoming,” he muses.

Misty frowns.  “That’s not funny either.”

“Not trying to be funny! Trying to encourage you to live your life, darling.  I wish I could still live mine.”

“You can live in my dreams. Rent free.”

With a snort, Harry stands up. “Oh I intend to. As much as possible.”

“Well good.”

Harry walks over to Misty’s window again, watching the trees blow in the wind for a few quiet moments.  After a bit, he speaks again.  “I have an idea.”

“Hm?”

“Let’s have fun tonight. Let’s watch a movie. I’ll manifest in front of everyone and we can end on a high note. Instead of being sad.”

Misty considers his words for a moment. “But I want you to myself.”

Harry grins. “So they won’t question it when we excuse ourselves early, will they?”

Misty rolls her eyes.  “Well, when you put it that way--”

Harry laughs.  “No one even has to join in with us if they don’t want to.  But I figure my last night here shouldn’t be spent so upset.”

“Yeah,” Misty agrees.  “But I’m still gonna be sad.”

“Don’t you want to remember me having fun?  That’s how I want you to remember me, at least.”

“Yeah but--”

“No buts!”  Harry holds his hand out to her.  “Come on then. You get to pick the movie.”

The evening progresses unbearably fast, and it isn’t long before Misty finds herself curled up into Harry’s side on the couch, watching him giggle alongside all her sorority sisters and their various partners.  She hopes he doesn’t notice her staring at him, but she can’t help it of course. He is so lovely, so full of some type of light that she has never seen before and cannot seem to get enough of.

As Misty watches him, she realizes how heartbreakingly human he really is.  He may be a ghost, but he died a young college boy— with so much ahead of him and so much to look forward to.  Never in Misty’s life has she seen a more genuine smile, nor has she ever met anyone as charismatic as Harry. Try as she might to forget it, she knows her time with him is coming to an end and she hates it. But watching him interact with everyone around him, as charming as ever, she realizes that he genuinely needed this.  He needed to feel alive, to feel apart of something once again.

So Misty leans closer into him. He smiles down at her, looking so full of life and warmth. He reaches down, pulling the fuzzy red blanket covering both him and Misty up over her shoulders.  “You alright?” He asks softly.

Misty tilts her head, leaning up to press a peck to his nose. “I’m wonderful,” she replies quietly.

Harry grins down at her, and for a moment the two are lost in their own little world— looking into one another’s eyes as if the entire universe existed in them.  As if reading her mind, Harry gives Misty’s lips a soft kiss.  The kiss is tinged with sadness, of course, because the darker it gets outside the less time they know that they have together.  So he pulls away, bumping her nose with his.

“You sleepy?” He asks quietly.

And Misty knows exactly what he means. “Mhm.”

“Mm,” Harry hums. “Me too.”

He moves to rise to his feet to make a graceful exit with Misty. “Well,” he says, addressing the room. “Misty and I are going to go up to sleep now. I have to head back home pretty early tomorrow and—“

“You’re going to fuck,” Kennedy says, matter-of-factly.  Misty and Harry both gape at her, and she laughs.  “It’s alright! No shame in that.  We’re all adults here.”

Misty laughs nervously, and Harry remains calm and smug.  “You’re hilarious, Kennedy.  I think I’ll miss you most of all.”

Kennedy laughs, winking and pointing finger guns at Harry.  Misty rolls her eyes, but she’s giggling as she turns to exit.  Harry follows close behind her and Kennedy calls out, “Be safe! Use protection!”

Harry and Misty giggle the entire trip up the stairs, and as they approach Misty’s bedroom, she speaks quietly.  “Okay, but how are you feeling?  Like, energy wise.”

“Fine,” Harry says, and he honestly means it.

Misty glances at him like she doesn’t believe him, and he snorts.  “I promise, Misty.  I mean it.  I didn’t use that much tonight.”

She rolls her eyes, making her way over to her bed and sitting on the edge of it.  Harry closes the door behind him, still buzzing from the fun he’s had today, and a playful smile spreads across his face. He turns slowly on his heels, eyeing her mischievously.

She looks back, tensing up a bit as a smile spreads across her face.  “What…”

Harry growls playfully, bounding over to her and tackling her onto the bed before she can even say anything.  She squeals, giggling as she and Harry come tumbling down.   Harry attacks her face and her neck in kisses while squeezing at her hips, and she squeals.

“No!” She shrieks.  “What are you doing?!  NO!”

He growls, nipping at her cheeks before lifting his head and grinning down at her.  “Gimme kiss.”

“If I do, will you chill?” She giggles.

Harry makes a face, pretending to consider her words.  “Mm… maybe.”

She lifts her head slightly, pecking at his lips, and he shakes his head.  “Better than that,” he says.

She kisses him again, but he only repeats, “Better than that.”

Misty lets her head fall back again, mouth falling open as the most lovely laughs bubble out of her lips. Harry seizes this opportunity, leaning down and kissing her open mouth with a dimpled grin.

Misty’s giggles die down the minute their lips interlock, but the smile never leaves neither her nor Harry’s faces as they kiss.  Misty licks gently into Harry’s mouth, and he immediately grants her access, swirling his tongue against hers. He speaks between kisses.  “You’re--” kiss, “so--”  kiss, “beautiful.”

Misty rolls her eyes.  “No you are,” she says, and Harry kisses her before she’s even finished her sentence.

He chuckles.  “No you.”

“Nooo…”  She pecks at his nose.  “You.”

Harry snorts. “God we’re disgusting, huh?”

Misty hums, reaching up to brush a stray curl away from Harry’s face.  “Yeah.  Ew.”

He leans down, burying his face in her neck and sucking softly.  He feels her melt against him, squirming a bit as she lets out a long, humming sigh.  He smiles, lifting his head to press another kiss to her lips before speaking.  “I have an idea,” he says.

“Another one?  Do tell.”

“How about……”  Harry sing-songs,  “One more orgasm for you.  As a parting treat.”

“Hmm…” Misty muses.  “Only one?”

Harry snorts.  “Or two.  Or… however many you want.”

“How many do you want to give me?”  Misty scratches lovingly behind Harry’s ear.

“Oh sunshine,’ Harry says,  “If I had my way I would never stop.”

Blood rushes to Misty’s cheeks and ears, but she tries to hide it.  Harry only laughs again, thumbing at her cheek.  “Gonna miss that.”

“What?”

“How easy it is to get you hot.”

Misty rolls her eyes, but she laughs.  “You’re an idiot.”

“Gonna miss that, too.  Love when you insult me.”

“Oh my god.”  Misty shakes her head.  “Just shut up and kiss me.”

Harry hums.  “With pleasure, sweet girl.”

They continue kissing for a bit as Harry undresses Misty gently.  He loves on every inch of her body, reveling in every single reaction he gets out of her. He tries to remember every detail that he can, and everything about the evening they’re sharing.  And when he makes her cum, four separate times, he savours her taste, her smell, and the noises she makes as best as he can-- without making himself even sadder than he is.  He knows she feels the same, noticing the way she continuously glances at him with more love in his eyes than he’s seen in a long time.

After hours of messing around with her, loving on one another’s bodies and sharing giggles and playful kisses, they realize it’s time to go to bed.  They undress one another, and Harry helps her remove her makeup-- which makes them both laugh the entire time.

When they find themselves in bed together, stroking lovingly at one another’s faces, they realize that they can’t run from the inevitable anymore. Their time together has been reduced to only hours, and there is nothing they can do about it at all.

“I’m going to miss you,” Misty says, tracing his features in the darkness.  “Have I told you that already?”

Harry laughs softly.  “Maybe once or twice,” he admits.  “But I’m going to miss you more.”

Misty sighs, kissing his lips gently.  “Promise to come visit my dreams as much as you possibly can?”

Harry leans into her touch, tilting his head to kiss the palm of her hand.  “I promise.”

“I don’t want to fall asleep.” She looks on the verge of tears, and Harry wishes there was something he could do to stop her.  At this point, however, he knows it’s inevitable.  So he tries to make her smile.

“You need to,” he says.  “Humans need sleep.”

“Maybe,” she says.  “But I need you more.”

“That’s not true, baby. You know it’s not.”  Harry strokes a spot just in front of her temple-- a spot he’s noticed over the past month that relaxes her more than anything else.  As if on cue, she yawns.

“Listen to me.  You are meant to live your life, sweet girl.  You are meant to be happy, and grow old.  Promise me you will.”  She frowns at him, but he doesn’t allow it.  “Promise me, baby.”

“I promise,” she whispers.  Harry smiles.

“Say it like you mean it.”

“I promise Harry,” she whispers, blinking against the sleep in her eyes.  “But I also promise that when you return, I will be waiting.”

“That’s fine.  You can wait.  But do not let it stop you from living.  You hear me?  Please don’t. I would give anything to live my life again.”

Misty yawns again, finally giving in to the heaviness of her eyelids and closing her eyes. She leans into him.  “I promise.  I’ll live every day in your honor, Harry.”

“Yeah?”

She smiles sleepily, still not opening her eyes.

Harry watches her, taking in every last detail of her sleepy face.  He can feel himself fading, but she doesn’t seem to notice, so he says nothing.  He ignores the pressure building behind his eyes, swearing to himself that he’s not going to cry.

Misty is also fading fast, succumbing more and more to sleep by the second.  Harry knows it’s going to be a hard year without her, but he takes comfort knowing she is surrounded by people who love her.

And it also doesn’t hurt that he plans on haunting Josh’s dreams so that he leaves Misty the fuck alone.

He smiles softly, completely unable to stop the tear from leaking from his eye.  He’s grateful that Misty’s eyes are closed, and he presses the slowest, most gentle kiss to her forehead.

“I love you, miss Misty.”

Without opening her eyes, Misty speaks with a distant, sleepy voice.  “I love you too, Harry.”

Harry replays that moment in his head for the next few hours, reveling in the way those words sounded coming out of her mouth.

And when Misty wakes in the morning, Harry is gone.

[reluctant-mandalore]

The Boba Fett Babysitting Archives: Interruptions

One of Boba Fett’s criminal meetings ends up interrupted by that of the child and a present he has for him. 

Warnings: Fluff, family fluff, domestic fluff, uncle boba, canon-typical violence, the child is safe the entire time though dont worry, no reader, no romance, not beta read

Word Count: 1955

Pairing: No romantic pairing. 

a/n: this is a few weeks late now lol I ended up falling into a bad mental rut, but thank you all for being so patient and supportive during this time! I appreciate it a lot. Now please enjoy some of Boba Fett babysitting our favourite little child! 

The king of the crime world, Boba Fett, sat perched high upon his throne. His helmet glinting menacingly in the dim light, as he titled his gaze down to the cowering person sitting before him. The man’s pleading and begging bouncing throughout the large room, as he tried to reason with the Mandalorian. Though it didn’t seem like his plea for life was going to end in his favour.

The man’s terrified voice had grabbed the attention of all those in the area, and they watched in bated breaths as the scene continued to unfold before them. Some had felt pity for the man, shaking their heads at the sad display he was showing, their hearts sinking with the knowledge that this would not end well. Others took delight in his distress, their grins and mocking gazes drinking in the sight of him like it was the most humorous thing. Treating him as if he was just the newest entertainment to befall the legendary hunters wraith. Though who could really blame them for their cheer? Only a fool would betray Boba Fett after all, and a fool this man was indeed.

“You have a lot of nerve crossing me.” Boba had finally spoken to the man. His voice thick with fury and sounding stern with each word that left him. “It’s like you’re asking for me to kill you.”

“Fett please! I… I-It was a mistake!”

A huff of a laugh had left the bounty hunter at the man’s words, his amusement with the man dwindling more with each pitiful remark he had heard. “A mistake? That’s what you’re calling it? Running off with my credits was just a little old mistake, hm?”

“I… It was a poor taste of judgment!” The criminal had said, his voice wavering with each word that left his lips, “I never should have run off with your credits. I-I wasn’t thinking. Please forgive me! I’ll never do such a thing again—I swear on my life!”

Boba had appeared to tip his head in thought while looking at the groveling fool in front of him. The sight of which had brought the said man a small drop of hope, thinking that he would be spared the fearsome bounty hunters punishment. Although that glimmer of freedom he sought had died quickly at hearing the Mandalorian’s next words.

“You see the thing is… Nobody crosses me and gets to walk free.”

Fennec Shand—who had remained close to her bosses side—had brought up the blaster rifle in her hands properly as he finished speaking. The weapon now pointed to the man as she steadied herself behind the scope. The intention of her actions clear to all those around and causing for another brief silence to fall over the room. All eyes turning to watch the show that was about to reach its peak.

“Babaa!”

Everyone in the room had seemed to freeze at the sudden sound of a child's cheerful cry ringing out into the chamber. Even Fennec’s finger had twitched away from the trigger of the rifle—though her gaze never did remove itself from the scope—as everyone soon nervously watched the small green child enter into the room. Their breaths quickly catching in worry as the kid made their way to the throne where the one and only Boba Fett was still seated.

The small child had shuffled up to stand before the fearsome man. His little smile never leaving his features while under the man’s daunting gaze—a feat not even many hunters could handle themselves. The child had babbled some more, still much too young to form proper words or even be in this type of place, as the armored covered man appeared to take a great interest in the little creature. Everyone soon watching as the kid held out a piece of paper—a drawing—towards the famous bounty hunter.

Boba Fett had stared at the offering for a moment, titling his head again at the sight of it. He had stood soon after, taking the paper out from the little child’s hands and seeming to give it a look over. A quiet hum leaving him as he did, though his true thoughts had remained unknown, due to the helmet which shielded his features of view. The child only letting out a happy coo in reply as he continued to watch Fett with unbound excitement.

Meanwhile, everyone else had the same questions hanging in their minds. Who was this kid and why was he here? The child was as good as dead as far as many of them were concerned. Nobody approached the legendary hunter and just got to walk away. This was Fett they were dealing with after all.

“Well would you look at that!” Boba had suddenly exclaimed, shocking everyone at the cheerfulness they heard. His loud voice soon echoing around the room and causing a new cloud of confusion to fall over everyone in its space. He had turned to his companion, showing the picture to her as well, the grin he now wore evident in his words alone, “Fennec take a look at what ad’ika drew for me.”

The woman had finally shifted her gaze from the scope, leaning over slightly to look at the paper and allowing for her own grin to overtake her features, “Looks just like you.”

“Doesn’t it?”

Boba had bent to pick up the child who had only continued to coo and babble happily up at him. He had walked down to the man kneeling at the bottom of his throne. Turning the paper to show him and holding it steadily to his view, as if he was waiting for the man to comment on it.

The paper in question had a brightly coloured drawing etched into its surface. A scribbled rendering of what appeared to be the bounty hunter holding hands with the child under a bright yellow sun. It was something typical of what you would expect a child to draw, but something unusual for a man such as Boba Fett to be excited about—or so everyone thought at least.

“Cute, ain’t it?” Boba had asked, his voicing shocking the man out of his confused daze all of a sudden. The bounty hunter's gaze hauntingly locked with the man’s own and striking another drop of fear into the criminal who still kneeled before him.

“Y-yes! Very cute!” The man had managed to let out in between shaking breaths. His reply quick and jumbled as he tried to calm his panicked heart, “Your child is quite the artist.”

“Oh he’s not mine.” Boba had replied nonchalantly while looking over the drawing once more, another pleased hum leaving him as he did, “Just babysitting for a friend.”

The bounty hunter had pinched the child’s cheeks lightly after his words. A rumbled chuckle leaving him as the child had let out another flurry of giggles at the ticklish gesture. Seeing the other hunter distracted, the man still kneeling had finally saw his chance for an escape. No one being none the wiser to the fact that he was now reaching for his blaster.

Boba Fett had caught the man’s movement though, his free hand quickly moving to pull out his own blaster before the man could completely remove his from its holster. Now pointing the weapon square with the man’s head, as his finger rested tauntingly over the trigger. It only would take one small pull to take the man's life. A simple movement and it all would be over.

“You’re a fool if you think you can pull a fast one on me.” Boba had spoken with a snarl, the child in his arms held closer into his chest and shielded away from any danger that the man below could cause. The child’s little eyes and large ears peeking up in interest, as he peered down at the once again quivering man from the safety of his caretaker’s hold.

“Now now Fett…” The criminal had smiled wearily up at the bounty hunter, nodding his head towards the child still sitting in the other man’s arms, “You don’t want to scare the kid or anything.”

Boba had merely shrugged, something which only caused more confusion among those in the room, the smirk the hunter wore evident in his voice as he spoke, “He’s seen worse.”

The blaster shot had fired quickly, the bright light shooting out and striking its target with pin-point precision. The man’s body had slumped over just as quickly and Boba had frowned beneath his armored layers. Turning to face where the shot had fired from, as the child had let out a shrill of coos and giggles from the excitement he had just witnessed.

“You’re always taking my fun away Fennec.”

The woman had only smirked at her boss and friend, setting the blaster rifle down in a more relaxed position, as she looked over them both. She had given a small wave with her hand to the child in his arms, before shrugging to the bounty hunter as she spoke, “Should have been quicker… besides you really shouldn’t be dragging this out in front of the kid.”

A sigh had left the bounty hunter, knowing that she was right, but not willing to admit such a thing. Finding himself wiggling his own fingers towards the little one still held tightly in his arms as a distraction. Murmured whispers of those in the room had soon broken out again, their stares now lingering over the child as they conversed about what had just happened and what it meant for them.

Hearing their questioning and feeling their gazes, Boba had found himself irritated, turning to let out a snarl from deep in his throat. Intent on making it clear of what exactly would happen if they dared to bring harm to the child with just his fury alone.

“What are you all staring at?” He had bellowed out, his voice echoing throughout the throne room and causing a new air of fright to settle among those who sat within its confines. Everyone’s gazes quickly snapping away at his question and going back to their own mumbled conversations. The child now dropped from their thoughts as they found themselves afraid of what the man would do to them if they dared to mention the kid again.

Boba had sat on his throne once more, though this time the child had been seated with him on his lap. Nobody questioned him on the child, nor did they even dare to look at them both sitting together. Barely giving another glance as the bounty hunter looked over the drawing again with the kid. Trying their best to drown out the sounds of the man’s surprisingly kind remarks and the little one’s giggles that could still be heard.

Some did think of how they could use this new information to their advantage. Wondering if they could use this newly discovered soft spot of the bounty hunter’s to achieve their goals. Although, those few individuals had soon watched their plans fall apart at the arrival of the child’s father later that day—another Mandalorian who seemed just as deadly as Fett.

Soon the appearance of the little green child would become the norm. His interruptions of the bounty hunters meetings a frequent, and almost joyful, occurrence for those of his court. It was strange of course, but it wasn't the weirdest thing any of the others in the palace had seen in their time around the Galaxy. Probably wasn’t the safest place for the small creature to be hanging around either. Then of course, it’s not like anyone would dare to do anything to the little green child anyway—only a fool would cross Boba Fett after all.  

[bookishofalder]

hi! i just recently found ur account and love it💞💞 can i request adam driver x reader and they are dating. reader is a bit younger and he gets jealous over one of her guy friends bc he thinks she deserves someone younger than him. & it ends super fluffy :)

@avengxrs423​

Yay, my first request! Thank you so much for the kind words. This was fun to write, I hope you enjoy!

Doubts

Pairing- Adam Driver X FemReader

Summary: Adam has always been aware of the age gap he has with his fiance. He tries to move past it, but a chance meeting with your famous old friend brings the worry crashing back.

Warnings: Language, insecurity, mild smut, paparazzi. WC-2,700

“Mr. Driver, over here! Miss (Y/L/N), this way!” Adam followed you out of the car, thanking the driver, his eyes on you as the crowd of reporters and paparazzi lined either side of the walkway into the restaurant. It was always these sorts of outings, where the press knew he’d be in attendance to a new hot spot, that made him nervous. Wary of how easily you could be accosted, even injured. He was nothing if not protective of you.

Standing closely next to you, Adam places his hand on your lower back, joining you in smiling around for the cameras as you slowly moved forward. His security team had the doors open ahead of you, mere steps away.

“Have you set a date for the wedding yet?”

“Let’s see the ring again, Miss. (Y/L/N)!”

“Mr. Driver, what do you have to say to fans who find the age gap between you to be too much?”

Adam worked actively not to react to the last question, his body tensing. When he looked down at you, he found you were already watching him, the glamorous smile still dazzling everyone, but he read the caution in your eyes. When you were both through the doors and they shut behind you, he began to breathe a little more freely, casting the reporter's rude question out of his mind.

He was taking you on a date and wanted to make sure the evening was special. His publicist had set it up, as this new restaurant was the current ‘place to be and be seen’ in New York City. While Adam could care less, he knew fans everywhere were chomping at the bit to see more of him and you together, in New York especially.

The makeup artist who won the movie star’s heart. It was a major headline when you first started dating publicly, which made you both laugh as Adam had to work to convince you he was interested, in the beginning. Newly engaged now, Adam could see the romance of it, could understand why fans enjoyed the story. But he hated, absolutely despised, how every damn article made sure to mention, directly or not, the age gap between the two of you.

He had had no intention of falling in love with anyone he worked with, he hadn’t been actively seeking-but you had shown up one day one and after one brief conversation, he was smitten. His feelings only grew over the two years you worked together, but he had hesitated greatly in acting on them, solely because you were 10 years younger than him.

When you finally got together, he felt like the luckiest man, that you would love him back, age be damned. You were cautious at first, eventually believing he genuinely wanted to be with you, not just have a fling. He had waited four months into the relationship to make it public (which was no easy feat, but you were supportive through all of it), and of course, the articles started on pointing it out straight away, some going as far as to point out where you were when he was enlisted in the Marines, or graduating Juilliard.

You told him it didn’t matter, repeatedly. And never got mad at him for fixating when a particularly brutal article was released. He had felt guilty many times that you had to comfort and reassure him so consistently, yet it made him love you even harder. And life went on, happily, your relationship solid.

When news broke that he had proposed, the articles started up with renewed fervour. He had been trying to hide from you just how much this upset him, how the doubt was creeping back into his mind...

Tonight was meant to be a sophisticated, romantic evening that served the double purpose of getting Adam press coverage before heading back to L.A. As you were shown to your table by the excited owner, Adam watched you chatting away with her, complimenting their design and success. You wore a beautiful hunter green dress made of satin, it fell to just above your knees and complimented your glowing skin perfectly. He was enraptured by you, whether your wore sweatpants, a dress-and especially when you wore nothing. Green was his favourite colour on you.

At the table reserved for the two of you, Adam helped you take your seat, his hand brushing gently against your hair, before taking his own. Annie and the waiter who had appeared handed you the course descriptions, before asking if you had any dietary needs. “Thank you so much, Annie-honestly just tell the chef we’re game for anything!” You said, grinning. Annie winked before setting off to the kitchen.

Adam nodded politely at the waiter, who took their drink orders, before sweeping away, finally giving him time to study you. “How do you like it?” He gestured around them, at the dark lit, moody and stylish venue. It was busy, filled mainly with notable celebrities, though he hadn’t seen anyone he’d met before. He hoped you liked it, not being one for going out to fancy dinners-you were a homebody, preferring to curl up with a good book.

“Adam, this is great! We haven’t been to a dinner like this in forever, and did you hear what Annie said?” You gushed, beaming, and Adam felt his worries washing away, “13 courses! 13! You’re going to have to carry me out of here, babe.”

“I’m fine with that,” He replied, enjoying the flush that spread across your cheeks. “But let’s be honest, you’re going to end up giving me half your food, pretty girl, you always do.”

You pouted, “I’m making a renewed effort tonight, just wait.”

Adam laughed, and the two of you settled in, the conversation flowing as you discussed the upcoming film Adam was starring in, of which you were working as his artist. The food was, as expected, incredible. Adam loved how you took a photo of each plate, even though neither of you had social media accounts. You still took photos of all the food you ate, just for the fun of it, or as you told him ‘simply to document our adventures!’.

It was around the ninth course that the evening took a turn.

A commotion at the doors captured the attention of some of the patrons. Adam glanced up, but from where your table was, he couldn’t see much. The paparazzi outside were shouting too loudly to decipher what they were saying, so it wasn’t until Adam saw your friend walk in, his brother and friend in tow, that he knew his mood was about to shift.

Tom Holland was one of the first celebrities you had worked with when you started working in L.A. And he’d always kept in touch, even when his own fame skyrocketed and before you were public with Adam. And actually, Adam did like the kid-he was beyond well mannered and genuine, and from the stories you had told, a very considerate friend. Tom’s glowing recommendation of your work was part of the reason Disney had hired you on for the Star Wars films, which was how Adam had met you.

Really, Adam had no reason not to love Tom Holland and be happy to see him arrive with his brother Harry and friend Harrison. It was just the minor, ridiculous concern Adam had that, being close in age, you and Tom were more much suited for one another. A concern that had poisoned his mind for your entire relationship.

Seeing his eyes over your shoulder, you turned to look where Adam had been and exclaimed in delight when you saw your friend. Adam quickly arranged his features to match yours, nerves shooting through him. Tom spotted you when you stood, in all your dazzling beauty, and grinned before making a beeline towards your table. The owner, Annie, had been leading the men to a nearby table and stood back politely while you all greeted one another.

“(Y/N), love! How are you?” Tom gave you a hug, “And Adam, good to see you mate!” Adam took his offered hand, giving a quick handshake. (Y/N) hugged the other two, chatting amicably.

“Good to see you, Tom-hi Harry, Harrison,” Adam greeted the other two before placing his hand on your lower back. Inwardly, he felt more stable in doing this, but he worried it would look possessive. If you thought so, you made no objection, stepping a little closer to his side while you beamed at your friends.

“I didn’t realize you’d be in New York this week, Tom!” You said, smacking his arm playfully.

Tom held his hands up as if in surrender, “It was completely last minute, just stopping off for two days before we head to L.A.” He glanced between the two of you, “I nearly forgot-congratulations again on the engagement! This is the first time I’ve seen you both in person since!”

Adam smiled, “We really appreciated the gift you sent, Tom-that was too kind.” And it had been quite the gift, in addition to a beautiful and extravagant flower arrangement, Tom had made a personal donation to Adam’s charity, Arts in the Armed Forces, and shared the charity on his social media. They’d had an influx of new donations from his fans and followers.

“Arts in the Armed Forces is incredibly important to Adam and me, Tom-you really knocked that gift out of the park.” (Y/N) agreed, her arm snaking around Adam’s waist with affection.

Tom waved off their thanks good-naturedly, “Well, we’re going to leave you to what looks very delicious-Annie, I’ll have what Adam and (Y/N) are having!” Tom grinned briefly at the owner, “And we’re still on for lunch when you both come to L.A. Next week, yeah?”

After assuring Tom they’d see him soon and bidding their farewells, Adam and you sat back down, diving back into your food. You chatted happily about bumping into Tom, which quickly transitioned into excitement for returning to L.A., as the cold of January in New York City was getting a little old for you both. You loved it here, were all too happy to call it home when your relationship escalated and Adam asked you to live with him. And though you both spent a lot of time away from your New York brownstone, it was always going to be home.

Adam worked to enjoy the rest of the evening, but he’d rather lost his appetite, the food tasteless on his tongue. Because seeing Tom had brought the wave of insecurity crashing back down on Adam, that you were too good for him, too young, that you deserved someone better, to be with someone who smiled more easily and with whom you shared more in common with. He knew you loved him, but his brain kept asking-did you realize what you could have if you broke up?

When you climbed into the car after dinner, having said warm goodbyes to Tom and his party and touring the kitchen with Annie to thank the chef and his team, Adam’s smile dropped. He sat back in his seat, confirming with the driver that he could take them home, before dropping his head against the headrest and closing the divider between the front and back seats.

“Adam?” Your voice cut through the silence after only a few moments, concern evident in your tone.

Adam glanced down at you next to him, softening when he looked into your wide eyes, “Sorry, sweetheart, what’s up?”

You frowned, turning in your seat to face him more directly, “I want you to tell me what’s up, you’ve been in a funny mood half the night-you okay?”

“I’m alright, just tired-that was a lot of food over a long time.” He shrugged, looking away. For a moment, he thought you were going to leave it at that, but he should have known better; one of the reasons he adored you was your commitment to being the most stubborn person in the room. In an instant, you undid your seatbelt and slid from your seat, carefully climbing over him so that you could straddle his lap, all of his attention now on you.

Adam’s hands went to your hips instinctively to hold you steady, as you glared at him, “Babe, I know you’re not saying it, and I don’t want you to feel forced here, but I thought we’d talked about this.” The car hit a minor bump and you sank into his lap, nearly bumping heads, from the force.

He gripped your hips tighter, “We did, I just...I can’t help it, I feel like-like I’m holding you back.” He murmured with his eyes on your stomach, shame flooding through him.

You sighed, not without affection, “Holding me back from what, exactly? You are my everything, Adam, and without you...I can’t even begin to imagine my life without you.”

You slid your hands from his chest to his neck, where they rested gently, thumbs brushing across the lower half of his jaw. Adam closed his eyes briefly, “But if you did imagine it, properly, you might see that someone like Tom-I mean, he’s your age, goes to more parties and events, you’d have more fun-“

Your mouth was on his, cutting off Adam’s words, his mind going blank. The feel of you against him, your lips on his, was more than enough to render him speechless. After a moment, you pulled back, your cheeks flushed and expression serious, “I understand that sometimes, we notice the age gap a little more because the press thinks it’s interesting, but Adam, I need you to understand. I need you to see just how much I do not care about any of that, what they say or think or even about the actual difference in our ages! I never think about it, because it has no effect whatsoever on how fucking madly in love with you I am.” (Y/N) cupped his face in her hands, holding his gaze.

“I-I love you too, so much, pretty girl,” He sighed, his emotions raw, “I just want the best for you, always.”

“You are the best for me, which is why I said yes to marrying you when you got down on one knee, in our apartment, wearing nothing but those ridiculous shorts. It’s why I’d say yes, again and again, Adam. Do you think I like going to parties? That I don’t have fun with you?” Your voice raised slightly in exasperation, while Adam stared at you in wonder; you’d never been so passionate about this before-despite having had the conversation many times, “I have an adventure every single day with you, I love everything about our lives together, and honestly, babe...” Your voice lowered considerably, a soft breathy croon now, “I can’t picture a guy like Tom treating me how you do, knowing exactly what I need from a man, always taking such good care of me.”

She punctuated these words by grinding against him, her eyes darkening in arousal. Adam groaned at the sensation, “Pretty girl, you’re too good for me.”

(Y/N) smiled at Adam, “No, I’m just right for you and you’re just right for me.”

“Damn it, I love you!” He gasped, before sliding one hand from your hip to the back of your neck and pulling you close, his lips on yours before you could reply. You let out a small whimper, melting into him. Your arms circled around his neck, and Adam could feel the intent in your body, the overwhelming need to send him the message that he was yours, and you-you were his.

“I love you, Adam, forever.” You sighed against his lips, deepening the kiss further.

All thoughts that weren’t of (Y/N) kissing him in the back of their town car, soared from Adam’s mind. His new focus on getting you home, so that he could show you just how much he appreciated your patience and understanding. And as you shivered from his touch, his name on your lips, you successfully and unknowingly convinced Adam his doubts were unwarranted, that you loved him endlessly, as he loved you.

[nonstop-haikyuu]

Social Media Apologies

This is my first fic with the Haikyuu Headquarters server! And it's my first Daishou fic, as much as I love that snake bastard!! This month's SFW prompt was "meet ugly" so this is about Daishou serving a ball into reader's face which leads to him groveling on social media. Honestly, I hope you guys like this!! Here's the link to the masterlist!

-

For years, I had a string of bad luck that seemed to follow me around no matter where I went or how I acted. My parents cited bad karma or a curse placed upon me when I was a child. I simply called it life being an asshole. When I gained the job as the Sendai Frogs trainer, I knew the dangers of what I was getting into. Volleyballs were constantly flying across the gym and it wasn’t uncommon for someone to catch a spiked ball to the face.

For the most part, I had managed to avoid any strays that came my way, whether it be me blocking the hit or the players that I worked with saving my ass.

That changed the day that we played Yotsuya Motor Spirits. Admittedly, I wasn’t expecting the day to be anything special, especially since Kyotani, Koganegawa, and Kei had finally started working as a team, with their fellow players supporting their talents both as a trio and separately.

“Hey, don’t let them in your head, okay, Kyo? And Tsukki, please don’t rile them up too much. I really don’t want to deal with their coach coming to rip our heads off cause you want to be a dick.” I encouraged, crossing my arms over my chest. The two rolled their eyes at my usual pep talk then mumbled their agreement, turning towards their opponents. Kanji bounced eagerly in front of me and asked, “What about me?”

“Just take it slow, okay? Don’t rush your sets,I know you can do this.” I replied, patting him on the shoulder. He grinned at my words of wisdom and they soon walked away to line up, prepared to take their stances on the court. The first set passed without anything too out of the ordinary, with snide comments and smug grins exchanged between the net.

It was the second set that seemed to make the match all the more interesting.

Daishou Suguru, an outside hitter from the Spirits, was the man responsible for the shift of the atmosphere. I was returning from the trainer’s room with a bag of supplies, knowing that at the next timeout, Tsukishima and Kanji would need tape for their fingers. Along with that, our libero would likely want his knee braced better, due to an old injury.

I was walking on the corner of the court when the whistle blew and Daishou took his stance for his serve. I glanced up for a brief second to see who would take on the receive, only to realize that the ball was hurtling towards my face at a pace much too fast for me to hide from. Shouts and gasps filled the stadium as I slammed to the floor. Blurry faces crowded around me and I faintly acknowledged the fact that my three friends were looming over me, waving their hands in front of my face.

“Hey, hey, easy. Just lay back, okay?” Kei encouraged, pressing a gentle hand against my shoulder. I groaned at the pain in my head and nose then mumbled, “Hurts. It hurts. What the hell happened?” Kyotani masked his snarl and bit out, “Bastard snake nailed you in the face with a serve. Might wanna hold still, Coach thinks you have a concussion and a broken nose.”

“You realize that I can hear you, right? It’s not like I meant to hit them. I was shooting for a service ace, give me a break.” Daishou replied, rolling his eyes.

“Shit, this hurts.” I grumbled as Tsukki pressed a wad of tissues under my nose. Daishou knelt beside me and murmured, “Hey, I’m really sorry about hitting you in the face. I didn’t see you there.”

“I’m kinda pissed that you serve bad enough to hit someone on the sidelines.” I snapped, pushing myself up. Kogane’s eyes widened at my bitter tone and harsh words, then Daishou spat, “You were walking in front of the barrier. You should have enough brains to know to walk behind it.”

I jerked my head towards the wing spiker, groaning at the sharp jab of pain and bit out, “Maybe you should learn how to serve properly then. If your serves are that high, then you’re not doing something right.” Kyotani helped me to my feet then I heard the snake hiss, “Bitch just needs to learn where to stand during a game.”

An argument between Tsukishima and Daishou began to rise with Kogane attempting to coax his teammate out of the fight. Kyotani braced against me then grumbled, “You never know when to stop talking, do you?” I let out a bitter laugh and mumbled, “He’s the one who will have to deal with the backlash. And I’m the one with a broken nose!”

He patted me on the shoulder and replied, “I’ve learned that you usually get screwed by what you say in the end.” He was right but shit, I was really hoping that I would escape any trouble that followed.

-

I, in fact, did not escape the results of Wednesday’s game. Kyotani, Kogane, and Kei came to visit me in the trainer’s room on Saturday, my first day back from my concussion, and they showed me the results of my broken nose and bitter words towards Daishou.

“Sendai Frogs’ Trainer and Motor Spirits’ Wing Spiker in the midst of a social media battle? Daishou Suguru has gone to social media to publicly apologize to the Sendai Frogs’ trainer after a stray serve broke the trainer’s nose and left them with a concussion. As of right now, the Sendai Frogs have not addressed the situation. The wing spiker seems to be desperate for a response and his fans seem irritated with the lack of acceptance from the trainer. ” Kei read off, raising an eyebrow in my direction. I scoffed at the ridiculous headline then snapped the first aid kit shut as I bit out, “Give me a break. He’s the one who won’t stop tagging me in his stupid apology. I mean, why should I accept his apology twice?”

“Because it’s good publicity and if you don’t accept on social media without a single ounce of sarcasm in it, I think you’ll be finding a new job.” our PR manager answered, entering the room. We twisted at the statement and I snapped, “What are you talking about? I could be fired over this?”

“Not my idea but the Motor Spirits’ manager is pissed that you’re not replying to him publicly so the fans of his team say that you’re being a stuck up bitch.” she replied, crossing her arms over her chest. I groaned and flung myself on the trainer’s bed, whining, “This isn’t fair! I’m the one with the broken nose and he’s the one gaining the sympathy? Ugh! Fine, I’ll tweet him now.”

Yanking out my phone, I opened the Twitter app and constructed a tweet, “Daishou-san, I accept your apology. I’m sorry for taking so long to accept publicly.” I clicked send on the public message and grumbled to myself as Kei chirped, “You think the public will leave your little feud at that?” A simple chime followed his question and I glanced down, surprised to see that Daishou had privately messaged me.

“How about dinner on me? I’d really like to make it up to you.” Kei blinked in surprise at the statement then laughed, “Are you going to accept? It’s been a while since you’ve been on a date. I mean, people already think you guys are a thing.”

“Seriously?! Who asked you anyway? Hmm. I mean, I guess I could go out with him?” I asked, tapping my chin. My best friends continued to laugh as I thought over Daishou’s offer then mumbled, “I guess it can’t get worse than it already is.” Typing a quick response, I hovered over the send message then Kyotani huffed, pushing the button himself. We loom over the phone screen, waiting for his response, then a new chat appears with an address linked and a simple, “Tonight, 9 pm. I’ll see you there.” I tilted my head back then asked, “What am I thinking?”

“You need a boyfriend, that’s what you’re thinking.” Kei supplied, patting me on the back. I came to a stand then stated, “I guess I should go get ready for this date, then.”

“You’re gonna have a great time!” Kanji called out, laughter following me out.

9 pm came surprisingly slow, likely due to my repeated glances at my watch. The ramen shop was actually a ten minute drive from my apartment and I often frequented it during the weekends. I was thankful for the familiarity and lowkey manner of the shop. It would provide some comfort to me.

Bowing briefly at the shop owner, I glanced around and spotted Daishou in the corner. He smiled at my appearance then pulled out the stool across from him. I settled down on the seat and he admitted, “I’m not going to lie, I kind of thought you weren’t going to show up.” I laughed at his statement then replied, “I wasn’t sure if you were going to come. Tsukki definitely wasn’t confident in you showing up.”

“Well, Four Eyes is best buds with Kuroo and that cat hasn’t liked me since middle school. You look beautiful by the way. I really am sorry about breaking your nose and giving you a concussion.” he remarked, scratching the back of his neck. I pressed a gentle finger to the bridge of my nose then stated, “Don’t worry about it. Neither of us could really do anything about this. You’re a persistent asshole, though. Why did you ask me out for dinner?”

He paused at the question and answered, “I thought you were pretty. And I like that you didn’t let me be an asshole. At least, not without a fight.” I laughed, shaking his head, and chirped, “You thought I was hot while I was being a bitch? Are you a masochist or something?”

“More of a sadist, if I’m being honest.” he blurted out, playing with my fingers. My eyes widened at his bluntness then he leaned forward with a remark, “But that can wait until after dinner. What would you like?”

We glanced over the menu and I found myself studying Daishou. His hair was relatively short, barely hanging on his forehead and it looked soft until the ramen shop’s lights. Green eyes flickered back and forth over the options and my gaze continued down to petal pink lips. His tongue flicked out and I’m surprised to see that he has a tongue ring, with fangs in place of normal canines.

“Snake bastard… I thought Kyotani was being a dick, not being serious.” I mumbled, reaching to cup his face. He startled at the sudden touch and his eyebrows furrowed together, asking, “Can I help you with something?”

“Fangs… you have fangs.” I breathed, focused on his mouth. He laughed at the awe in my voice then replied, “I was born with them. I got my tongue pierced right after college on a bet.” He wiggled his tongue afterwards and returned his attention to the menu as the server approached our table.

“Hello! What can I get for you?” I turned with a smile as I gave my order then dropped my hand away from Daishou’s face so he could answer. Once she wrote down our selected meals, she gave a small bow and informed us that our food would soon be out.

“I’m sorry. You must think that I’m a crazy person for grabbing your face like that.” I apologized, burying my face in my hands. He laughed at my embarrassment and tugged my hands down before he chimed, “It’s okay, I thought it was cute. Honestly, a lot of people are turned off by the fangs. Something about how it’ll hurt if I kiss them. So it’s nice to have someone fascinated by them.”

“I really like it actually. It looks really good.” I murmured, a shy smile stretching across my face. He smiled in return then asked, “So how did you end up as the trainer for the Frogs?” I let out a laugh and answered, “I used to go to Aoba Johnson with Kentarou and went to college with Tsuki. When they joined the Frogs, I heard they were hiring an athletic trainer so I put in an app. Now I’m here and stuck with three blond idiots.”

“Hey I’m not an idiot!” a growl interrupted, jerking our attention to the table behind us. Three men sat there with awful disguises and I could feel my fury beginning to bubble.

“What the hell are you three doing here?” I spat, jerking out of my seat. Daishou started at Kyotani, Kanji, and Kei, the two glaring at Kentarou for blowing their cover.

“Idiot! They haven’t even had dinner yet and now they know we’re here!” Kei hissed, slapping his teammate on the shoulder. I slammed my hands on their table then demanded, “Why are you here?! Which one of you morons thought of this bright idea?”

“Group effort?” Kogane supplied, ducking his head to avoid my glare. Our server returned with our food, with concern across her face then Daishou stated, “Could we get our food to go? Please? We had something come up and can’t stay to eat.” Kei turned with a bitter expression then asked, “Do you think that I would let you go on a date with him by yourself?”

“Yes! I’m a grown adult and I figured you would at least trust me enough to watch over myself! Daishou-san, I am so sorry for this! I didn’t think these three would be this dumb. My apartment isn’t too far from here if you’re still wanting to go on this date?” I asked, turning my attention back to the wing spiker.

He gave a grin and answered, “I would love to. I’ve already paid so I’m ready to go when you are.” The trio began to protest as we walked out of the shop and I shot a glare over my shoulder, hissing, “You follow us and I will end you.” They settled back in their chairs and sighed, shaking their heads.

I turned back to Daishou and he wrapped an arm around my waist, murmuring, “I think we make a pretty amazing couple, what do you think?” I leaned into his side and said, “I think you’re right.”

[anki-of-beleriand]

Okay, this was my first attempt at something different and it did not turn out the way it was supposed to.

Thank you @aduialel for the prompt, I know this is no quite what you ask... But, It has an open ending and I do intend to make it through a second part.

This will feature Young Thranduil

Elrond/Celebrian

Glorfindel and a non traditional reader/OC.

Again, this is my first time and, English is no my mother tongue so do forgive me any mistake.

The prompt was:

46. "Shut up, I'm a delight!"

Now, enjoy.

_________________________________________

The Great Hall had been decorated with gold and silver, the lamps hanging above their heads had been brought to the dwarves from Moria and the wine had been shared by the elves from Eregion. The whole room had been filled with allies, family and friends, and Elrond could say this was one of the most lovely festivities he had shared in a very long time.

The sweet music from the harps and violins reached his ears. And his lips curled up when his eyes caught sight of his wife and his best friend fooling around on the dance floor. Celebrian was laughing, her eyes had closed as her hand stretched out to allow Thranduil a quick twirl and then a sweep to the side.

Elrond arched a single eyebrow, he cleared his throat while shooting amused stares to both elves who turned their attention to him.

“Would it be possible to recover my wife, Thranduil? Or, would I have to fight you for her?” Elrond could not hold his smile as Thranduil straightened up wrapping an arm around Celebrian’s shoulders.

“You will have to fight me, Elrond. Your wife is a delight, and she is light on her feet, unlike you.”

“Oh, be nice, Lastithen.”  (little leaf) Celebrian chuckled when all Thranduil did was wince at the old nickname.

“I am nice, your husband is too easy.” Thranduil smirked at this, not letting go of Celebrian who was hiding her smile.

Elrond rolled his eyes knowing Thranduil was being difficult just because he enjoyed being difficult.

“You will have to give her back, eventually.”

“You two will stop talking about me as if I'm not here.”Celebrian said with a hint of warning in her voice, her expression did not change but both Elrond and Thranduil nodded obediently.

“Now, while I always enjoy your antics, Lasthiten, I think I need to teach my husband how to enjoy himself.”

“I resent that, I know how to enjoy myself.” Elrond replied, sending withered glances to Celebrian and Thranduil whe. He both of them snorted at this.

“I do!”

“Of course, my love, come  show me how you enjoy yourself.”

Thranduil stepped aside watching with growing amusement as Celebrian really tried to teach some dancing moves to Elrond. The black-haired elf was looking confused but completely smitten by Celebrian so, whatever she did or propose he was soon obeying without a hint of a doubt. A pang of jealousy tried to overcome Thranduil, he longed to have something like this. A love to share laughter and foolish moments, someone to share his dreams and fears.

The music soon was too much, the light became too bright and Thranduil had a need to leave the Great Hall. He turned around walking towards the closest balcony, fresh air could scare away his darkening thoughts and go back to enjoy the friendship of his friends and the love of his family. Nothing else mattered.

The terrace faced the great sea stretching out beyond the lands Thranduil had ever known and loved. The light of the moon reflected on his waters, while the sound of the waves breaking in the hills ignited a nostalgia Thranduil did not think himself capable of feeling. He approached the railing without noticing he was not alone, in the far corner was a single figure.

An elf maiden.

She was leaning against the railing with her light hair falling on her back and her face turned towards the sea. Her face was a mask of pure concentration, with her dark eyes gleaming contently without a care in the world.

For a brief moment, Thranduil hesitated. He was looking for fresh air but at the same time he was looking for solitude and did not want to interrupt someone else in their contemplation of nothingness.

Still, he wanted his fresh air and his solitude and this elf maiden had not taken notice of him so he stepped forward and stood right at the other side of the terrace observing the dark waters of the sea.

“For a human you really are quite sneaky, what are you doing here?” Glorfindel barged in the terrace offering a brilliant smile to the woman.

“Well, I told you I was not good at great gatherings and I want to see the sea at night.” She said, offering a half smile. “How did you find me?”

“Magic, my dear, let's go there is someone I want you to meet.”

She laughed and her whole face brightened up and soon Thranduil realized he had been standing to the side watching the whole scene flabbergasted and unable to move. He had mistaken himself, the woman was not an elf but a mortal. A woman!

And of course he should have noticed!

Yet, there was something different…

Thranduil soon furrowed his brows rather annoyed. Did Glorfindel and that woman ignore him? They did not even look his way!

They really dare to ignore him!

The audacity!

Thranduil barged inside the Great Hall, his eyes glancing around from one group to the other. Narrowing his eyes when he caught sight of his father then Gil Galad, a group of elves he did not know pretty well.

“Thranduil, is everything alright ?” Elrond stopped him with a single hand, the blond-haired elf turned to his friend tilting his head as if confused by the question.

“I am. Why do you ask?”

“You look agitated,” this time it was Celebrian who furrowed her brows trying to locate with her eyes the responsible for bringing such humour to her friend. “Did something happen?”

Thranduil knitted his brows together, he glanced around then back at Celebrian and Elrond.

“Can you believe that moments ago Glorfindel came in without even looking at me?” Thranduil said indignantly, his eyes gleaming strangely. “ And he was not alone. Of course. And he and his companion had the nerve to ignore me when I was right in front of their noses?”

Elrond and Celebrian both glanced at one another then turned to Thranduil who now was looking like a petulant child. He was still looking with his eyes at the two offending individuals until, finally he found them. Celebrian followed those blue eyes and realized who he was speaking of, her face lit up in understanding just as she realized Thranduil was looking really aggravated by this.

“Well, my friend you can be quite difficult sometimes, and…”

“Excuse me?” Thranduil directed his attention to Elrond who smiled sheepishly at him.

“Thranduil, right now you are acting all offended because Glorfindel and his human friend didn't greet you.” Elrond tried to sound reasonable but he had already said the wrong thing and Celebrian was highly amused and distracted to help him a little.

“Thranduil, please don't go around being difficult… ” Elrond tried to explain but pressed his lips together when Thranduil glared at him.  

“I am not difficult, Elrond. I'm a delight! Now, shut up and come with me to make our proper introductions to this human friend.”

With that said Thranduil grabbed Elrond by his arm and dragged him around the room directly towards his goal ready to show Glorfindel of Gondolin and this stranger he was in fact a delight. And should not be ignored.

Elrond was completely and utterly confused and, while Celebrian was equally confused she was quite amused as well.following both of them to see how this would end.

After all…

… This ought to be interesting.

[echo-three-one]

Whatever It Takes

Sequel to A Forgotten Memory

Roach's stealth skills are put to the test as he sneaks past an alleged Augustus base to capture him and gather intel about the recent EMP based attacks. Will Roach be able to impress Captain Price?

Previous Chapter : Soap - Experiment 001

Chapter 9 to another story made by Ray (echo-three-one) Comments and Reviews appreciated! I hope you enjoy! Love you all ❤️

"A SurPRICE Visit"

Gary 'Roach' Sanderson

Task Force 141

400 meters outside Augustus' Mountain Base

Germany

The winds were picking up when they landed and Roach flew about a few more meters away from Price.

"This EMP blast is messing with my signals. Captain, can you find Roach?" Ghost spoke over comms, his voice crumbled over the static.

"He landed not too far from me. Come on boy, let's get a head on." Price replied to Ghost as he helped Gary get up and untangle himself from his mess. Gary nodded and followed his Captain into the edge of the mountain.

"There it is. Augustus' base." he mused as Gary scoped through his supressed silencer. Trucks were leaving the area filled with armed hostiles.

"Ghost, you see this? They're leaving the hive." Price informed the recon man.

"Aye, sir. Looks like they're headed to Alex's direction. If we time this right you'll have less people inside there." he replied. Gary wondered why they were leaving. It didn't make sense to back-up an already reclaimed base back at Alex's.

"Let's go Roach. I'll take the one on the left tower, you take the one on the right. I'm currently spotting four Tangos by the gate. Fire when ready." Price instructed. Roach took a deep breath to steady his sights, quickly pulling the trigger once the crosshairs aligned with their heads.

"Good kill. Your sniper skills are improving, Sargeant." Price mused as he signaled them to move forward. For a Captain who's left him a solid first impression as a strict angryman, Roach didn't expect the kind words from him. It almost felt overwhelming.

"You go ahead and take what's important inside that guardhouse. I'll cover you from this position." he commanded and Gary sprung safely into action, switching to his suppressed pistol and into the guardhouse.

It was simple, a few cameras, some photos of people who they let in and a few map layouts. Gary quickly snapped all of them for Ghost to see. Roach also grabbed the radio and placed it near his ear. Gary set his sights on an AK-47 lying on the ground.

"Roach, be careful when using unsuppressed weapons. It might reveal our existence." Price muttered to which he nodded. It just made sense.

"Jäeger, kopierst du?" the radio muttered. Roach's German wasn't on point and any non-reply from the other end would result in an investigation.

"Ja, alles klar." he replied, trying to replicate the accent. There was no more reply on the other side which meant Gary actually nailed his reply.

"Captain, behind that door is heavily guarded. I suggest a reroute to the back door just a few meters east of your position. This isn't Augustus' base, it's a remote research facility studying plant life by the border and he seemed to take it over." Ghost informed after gathering the photos, Gary waited on the edge of the wall covering his Captain's six. The duo proceeded as suggested and climbed over an unguarded fence.

"We're at a greenhouse. Labeled 6." Price whispered.

"Do you see any cameras?" Ghost asked.

"Yeah. Looking at the plants." he muttered.

"Circle around it and find cover behind the safehouse labeled 5. If my German is correct, the central area should have 2 scientists on their way in there." Ghost informed.

"Right on schedule." Price nodded to Roach as they both knocked them down quietly and non-lethally as they were civilians. Gary quickly slung his weapon and hid it behind the huge white lab coat the both of them now wore.

"Keep your weapons hidden, until I say so. Okay?" Price said as he pulled the bodies somewhere hidden. Gary nodded as they confidently waltzed inside the base, using their fake ids pinned on their coats for entry.

Gary watched a lot of sci-fi fics and most of them depicted labs as white walled, glass-divided rooms with hundreds of scientists working on some random machineries. Except here, it's plants. It seemed normal as if they infiltrated the wrong base. Price seemed to worry too, his steps were further apart and he seemed to be in a hurry. They were losing hope on a lead, until one armed guard, different from those outside started climbing up the stairs.

"Finally. Some good news." Price muttered as they made their way up the stairs.

"Authorized personnel only." an armed guard stood by the steps blocking the duos way. It was too crowded and too risky to engage him and press through and they both needed a new plan.

"Es tut mir leid." Gary replied as he pulled Price to the restrooms.

"It's no use. We can't go guns ablazing right here." he noted to his Captain.

"Bollocks." he cursed.

"We need a diversion." He added.

"Way ahead of you, Sir." Gary smirked and showed him his c4 trigger, pushed it and an explosion followed.

"Nice. By the guard house?" Price asked while they waited for reinforcements to assist the blast.

"Yeah."

"Quick thinking lad. I like that."

Several armed men came rushing down the stairs, yelling in a different language, all going to the exit. They stomped to the stairs and carefully breached the second floor of the building, shooting armed tangos using suppressed weapons. They had to act fast and stomp on their comms as soon as they're down so that the others outside will not fall back.

Ten guards were left behind to protect the second floor, and with the help of stealth, Gary and Price took them out smoothly. All that's left are the intel waiting to be harvested.

Gary snapped all possible evidence, every nook and cranny was investigated while Price tapped his heavy fingers on the keyboard.

"Looks like they're going large. They're planting something by the major cities cell towers. Here's one in Berlin." he muttered, printing a copy of the blueprints.

"Price! R-ch" Ghost's static crackled across their comms.

"Th- found- guards!

Get. Out. There. NOW." he added.

"Kill every civilian in there. That will let our little friends out of the shadows. I know they're after us…" a menacing voice said over Roach's stolen receiver.

"Shite. They're killing civvies." Gary said, worried.

"I'm sorry Roach. But we can't save them. It's a trap. Now protect that camera and let's get the fuck out of here." Price consoled as they continued pressing on toward the exit.

Screaming people followed by gunshots echoed across the white halls of the research facility, Gary didn't want to look back, Gary didn't want to hear any more screaming but it was all around him. Whoever commanded this act to be done must be eradicated from this world.

LOCAL MILITIA SETTLEMENT

Alex greeted the duo as soon as they stepped inside the village. It felt lively as everyone was celebrating their victory.

"Captain." Alex nodded and Price returned the gesture with a handshake.

"This is Blitz. Their leader." he added, introducing the man to Price.

"Thank you for helping us." Price acknowledged.

"No. Thank you for helping us. You have good men fighting for a good cause." he remarked, nodding at Alex and Gary. Gary also got acquainted with the leader, exchanged a few words and got offered soup.

"Tough day, huh?" Alex nudged over Gary, who's still sad about the situation earlier.

"You and me, both." Gary muttered as Alex patted his shoulder.

"We'll get him soon enough, Roach. Justice will be served." Alex consoled as Gary took a deep sigh.

"They're planting EMP bombs on major cell towers. Maybe incorporating it with them to perform large scale blasts." Gary pondered, taking a sip off the delicious soup.

"Yeah. That's our go signal. It's now a terror activity. Imagine a day without communication. International trade would crumble." Alex explained to which Gary nodded in agreement.

"Global cripple. People's minds get hurt, Economy gets hurt and we aren't focused enough to defend ourselves."

"That's what he's up to." Gary finished.

"And we have to stop it. Whatever It Takes." Alex looked at Gary with determination, that kind of pep talk that makes him a little less sad.

"Yeah." Gary agreed.

~

Another briefing, but this time, it was going somewhere. Operation Burn, the task is to eliminate Nero and all his allies, if possible. Funny enough, the real Nero burned everyone else. Whoever thought of this name was smart enough to connect the dots.

There's another person added to the team, the redhead leather jacket agent, Alexandra Ryder. An interpol agent tasked to destroy all traces of said EMP machinery. She looks tough, acts tough and basically is tough. France seemed to be going along well with her. That's a bonus for alliances such as these.

"So, I heard Price noted your sniper improvement." Ghost nudged.

"Yeah. Thanks Simon. Your training sucks but it helped a lot." Gary complimented.

"Tried talking to France and the new girl today." Ghost reported. Gary turned to him, clearly interested about his story.

"It was actually good. They're both intimidated by the mask and that's why they can't initiate conversation with me. But the talk went pretty well so I guess you needed to update your scoreboard or something." He muttered.

Gary chuckled. "That's one step towards her."

"I'll let the Interpol handle Berlin. Since it involves just the weapon, as for other news. I think it's time to transfer our two hostages back to the USA." Gary quickly turned his head back to the screen. No. It can't be. He had to stop this decision.

"With all due respect sir. I do not agree with this!" Gary stood up and all eyes were on him. He's still concerned about the welfare of the two plus he didn't want Maxine to leave. Not yet.

"I've read the report on their case sir. And it's not that I don't trust the system there but what if there's still another one in there with ties to Nero. He was able to slip by under our noses once or more times than that but let's consider the possibilities here." Gary explained as he looked around. Alex seemed to agree with him.

Shepherd let out a soft sigh.

"We'll discuss this possibility Sgt. Sanderson. You can sit down now." he said and resumed briefing.

"Brave move you did there, soldier." Ghost remarked as Gary let out a sigh. He wasn't sure on he's really concerned, the IP Address being extracted from Samantha or Maxine's smile that he will be missing if she left.

Next Chapter : The Heart Knows what the Brain doesn't

Notification Squad, my beloved

@samatedeansbroccoli @smokeywhalee @whimsywispsblog @enderio @beemybee @ricinbach

[abloomrealty]

[plush-rabbit]

Can I Ask You Something?

| Part  8 | 

“Okay, can you hear me?” You ask, tongue sticking out as you connect your headphones to the audio jack.

He nods, silent as his eyes flicker elsewhere outside of the screen.

“Tomura,” you whine, “come on, I wanted a video call so you could like talk to me.” You pout and lean back against the bed frame, pillows cushioning you from the hard wooden surface. “We can just message if you want,” you offer, shuffling in your spot.

“No. Just let me do this one thing. I can listen to you talk and game.” He’s quick to reply, eyes shooting towards you and his lips curve into a smirk. “It might surprise you but I can do two things at once. You don’t tell the most complicated stories.”

You gasp. “That is so mean! My stories are plenty entertaining and they are complex!”

“Forgetting details doesn’t make it complex… I mean, it does but it makes it hard to follow!”

“I will have you know that I have bad memory!” You give him a wide grin. “Plus, it isn’t like any of your stories are all that interesting.”

“Fuck off,” he snorts, mouth pulling into a grimace and the controller he holds comes to view for a quick second- his pinkies are lifted up and thumbs smash hard onto the buttons. Your own fingers jerk as you watch his actions.

“What game are you playing?” You ask, pulling open another tab and logging into your social media. “Anything you’re having trouble with anything? You know I’m always here to help.”

“It’s a stupid fucking horror game with a dumbass boss.” You hear glass break on his side of the screen and his eyes narrow, all attention on the screen in front of him. “I don’t need your help either.” He pauses. “You know that.”

“Yeah, yeah I do,” you murmur. “I just like offering it in case you do. That way I already have the information pulled up and-. Hey! Are you even listening?”

“Yeah, yeah.” He waves you off. “I told you I could do both at once.”

“Tomura, if you wanted to play your game, then why did you agree to a call? I wouldn’t have minded if you wanted some alone time.” Your own eyes glance at him before returning to the other tab where you scroll through your feed.

“No. I already told you to stay on the call,” he snaps, head turning to you. You blink back at him and he sighs. “Look, I just, I agreed to the call didn’t I? You wanted this and I wa- agreed to it.” The music that was background noise to the call has stopped. “Don’t you have anything to talk about?”

You swallow. “Oh? I thought my stories weren’t entertaining enough?” You give him a teasing smile.

The music returns. “I said they weren’t complex. You add the entertaining part.” He smiles and then his teeth are bared. “Oh fuck off!”

You jump at his yelling, lowering your head to your shoulders as your limbs remain tensed. “Well, I always have things to talk about.” You cross your arms in front of your chest. “It’s just that I want to talk to you too. And hold an actual conversation with you. You know, like back during our hang out.” You choose your words carefully, watching his reaction but he’s always been good at keeping his voice leveled and at keeping his reaction minimal because you get absolutely nothing from him.

“You want to keep asking questions?” You hear the video game music come to a pause, his focus completely on you and it makes your breath catch in your throat.

“I don’t know,” you groan, “no, not really. I want to talk to you. Tell me something about yourself Tomura… Are your roommates over?”

“No. Why?” He raises a brow line at you, and glances at his monitor.

“I was just wondering is all. I thought that if they were over then that was the reason that you didn’t want to talk.” You smack your lips and shrug. “Thought you’d get embarrassed and all.”

“I don’t get embarrassed,” he retorts, the video game music has resumed and his attention switches back to his monitor.

“You have to get embarrassed. Everyone does.”

“Not me.”

The corner of your lips twitch downward. “Not even when we met?”

You see his still for a brief second and his eyes glance over to you and he scowls. “No.” His scowl twists upwards into a smirk. “Were you?”

“Hm. I don’t think embarrassed is the right word,” you tap your chin, “maybe nervous? Yeah, nervous is the word.” You give him a curt nod.

“Why?” He grunts out, eyes narrowing and lips tugged downward.

You take in a sharp inhale through your nose and swallow nervously. “Be-” you voice breaks and you clear your throat- “Because I just was, I guess? It’s hard to put into words but- I mean, we hadn’t met before- like face to face- and I was scared when you came over. You like didn’t talk at all and I was scared I had just dragged a total stranger into my apartment. But we ended up having a good time and you got an umbrella out of it.”

“I am a stranger.” He doesn’t even bat an eye as he replies, his fingers retuning to smashing buttons as if that would help his character defend themself better. It leaves a weird feeling that you can’t quite place, is it hurt? Discomfort? Rejection? Whatever it is, it leaves you with a heavy feeling.

Your eyes glance around your room, feet jerking underneath the blankets. “No you aren’t. Maybe we don’t know everything about each other- which is fine,” you add quickly, “but you aren’t a stranger anymore Tomura. I know your name and you know mine. I know you like peach flavored gummies and you liked my blankets. I know there are some things you rather not talk about- like your quirk and stuff- and that even sharing your quirk side-effects was hard enough and I- I wanted to say that I appreciate you sharing that and everything else with me.” Teeth pinch your lower lip. “We’re not strangers Tomura- we’re friends.” You wait for his reply, stomach knotting and hands bumping the laptop underneath as you twist your shirt in your hands.

“Okay.” He says after a moment, voice flat.

“No. You have to say it too. You can’t just say ‘Okay.’” You lower your voice in a cheap imitation of his and your face feels warmer than usual. “Tomura, if you don’t say it, I’ll hang up,” you threaten.

He lets out a long sigh and glances at you, a tired expression written on his face. “Ok- Fine. We’re friends.” He groans when you raise your eyebrows. “Were not strangers- we’re friends.” His eyes meet yours for a brief second and they soften when the corner of your eyes wrinkle with your smile.

“I’m glad that’s settled.” You take in a breath. “That means we’re officially friends now.” Your eyes droop. “You know that right,” you speak softly, your face scrunching up and eyebrows knitting together. “Right?” You press.

You hear a few noises come from his side of the screen. You bite the inside of your cheeks when you notice how his eyes darken into something sinister, how his tongue is bitten between his teeth. “Is it that important for you to hear?” Tomura glances over to you and his eyes are lighter now as light flashes across his face.

You nod, never taking your eyes off of his. “I just need to know. It’s- You’re hard to read sometimes. And I would like to know where we stand. I uh—” you scratch your neck and your fingers freeze immediately— “I don’t like second guessing myself and the relationships I’m in,” you shrink in on yourself, “It isn’t a good feeling to have.”

He glances at you and when he dies in a fight on his game, he rolls his eyes and drags a hand down his face, ruffling his already unkempt hair. “Okay.” He smirks when you narrow your eyes at him. “We’re friends. Officially.” His smile is wide when you perk up, your lips curving into a coy smile.

“Well, I’m glad you agreed to it. It makes me feel better knowing that we’re friends.”

“Officially?” He teases.

You chuckle. “Yeah. Offically.”

It’s silent for a minute. He returns to his game, leaned back against his seat with a tight look on his face. You frown and tap your fingers against the edge of your laptop. You want to continue to talk about anything but no ideas come to mind, and you don’t want to bother him if he just wants to game. You want to offer that you two can talk again any other time but he did say he chose to agree to a call with you and you did want to talk to him. Sitting in silence isn’t a bad thing, you’ve sat in silence before and it wasn’t uncomfortable or anything, sure you worried that the others weren’t enjoying their time with you but he wanted you to stay on the call. You two can sit in silence and it’ll be fine. You can do literally anything else on your laptop while you listen to him give the occasional curse.

You run your eyes over him and pause when you reach his neck. Even with the flashing lights coming from his screen, you can see red welts appear on his neck, obscured by his hair and the lighting.

“You’re staring,” he spares a glance at you, frowning when you look away from him, your lips pulled into a line.

“Sorry,” you mumble. “I just noticed, your neck—” you point to your neck, finger grazing your neck gently— “it’s all red again. Is your quirk acting up?” You lick your lips. “You don’t have to answer but um, I did a bit of research about quirks that affect skin and I heard that moisturizing cream usually helps. And there’s—”

“You researched?”

“Should I not have?” You question, rubbing your thumb over the side of your index finger.

“What exactly did you research?” He asks, neck craning forward and eyes narrowing.

Your face flushes and you physically lean away from the screen as if fearing that he would crawl out of your screen. “Just about your neck or well skin to be more precise. I looked up irritated skin conditions because that’s what I thought it was and a lot of the forums and stuff just said to apply cream and a few other remedies but most people just recommended creams since it was a quick solution,” your voice trails off and you hug yourself, looking down at your lap. “I’m sorry, if you didn’t want that but,” you clear your throat and look up at him, finding yourself short on breath, “you know, we’re friends- officially- and I guess I wanted to help?” You shrug, wetting your lips with your tongue, hands fidgeting before they wrap around your water bottle.

“No, it’s fine.” His reply is curt. “Cream?”

You hold the water bottle in your hands, the bottle crackling under your pressing fingers. “Yeah! I read it’s usually fine with whatever cream as long as it’s for moisturizing or like hydrating. There are ones that say therapy and I heard those work better but they’re a bit pricey and I’m not sure about your budget and stuff. Plus those are the ones that you have to order online so who knows how long it’ll take to get there. So… yeah.”

You wait for his answer, fingers lifting from the bottle, scared to make a sound. He’s never silent for this long, always filling in the silence with a comment or urging you to continue to talk. You didn’t mean to research. You just thought that maybe since it was a tic and a side effect of his quirk, you could probably help in some way. But it’s the internet, there’s so much information out there, all available if you know how to get behind paywalls. You wanted to help. And now he’s silent and you’re too afraid to make a sound, your thumb circling around the edge of the cap, feeling the ridges underneath you. You never minded silence before, always enjoying it, savoring every second where you could just lay down and let your mind drift.

You inhale sharply when his nails meet his neck. It starts off as a light scratch, you could have argued that he was brushing his hair away from his neck, but then they tense and you see his Adam’s apple bob, and when they drag an inch down, they release from his skin. You look away and focus on his retreating hands. They’re much larger than yours. His fingers flex and seem to point upwards towards his neck. You don’t breathe as your eyes glance at his abused neck. It’s scarred and a light shade of red, almost pink but not quite. You didn’t want to stare at first, you wanted to void looking at his markings but now you have to. It’s a tainted fascination as you study his face.

His face is scarred as well. It’s something that you noticed when you first had the talk but you waved it off. He had long hair and the lighting he had wasn’t exactly the best but then when you met him, it was different. You were too focused on all of him to even focus on the little parts, too captivated by his entire presence, by his bright red lines and eyes to even get a good look at him, too scared to even meet his eyes and even now, you’re too scared, too fearful of what might happen when you do. But now as he stares into his monitor, face brightened by the flashing lights, you actually get a good look at him. You see the curved scars around his eyes, his face littered with them, covering only the top half of his skin but even then he has two very distinct scarring on his eye and lips. You feel bile rise in your throat when you wonder who or what could have made those.

But he’s still handsome. A small mole on the right underneath his lips. Long hair that reaches to his shoulders in layered clumps. Eyes that you compared to rubies and even if remembering that statement makes you flush, you wouldn’t take it back. They’re bright red, they remind of you rubies and of other, more sinister things when you linger too long on them.

“You’re staring again,” he croaks out.

You can feel your eyes water. “You didn’t reply… again.” You feel nauseous, your stomach twisting the longer you stare at him.

“I didn’t know you needed a reply,” he smiles through his words, teeth peeing out slightly and eyes that shine with playfulness.

“I like hearing you talk.” You really do, you need other people to talk to feel as if they enjoy your company. “You know that.” You don’t lie to him, you’ve been a lot of things before- felt a lot of things- and lying was one of the ones that always left a bitter taste within you, covering you in shivers and making you taste the bile in your stomach. “You’re scratching again. Is it your quirk?”

His eyes bore into you, narrowed and calculated. “You’ve been asking a lot about my quirk. Why?”

You pause for a second- eyes wide and then you blink and crack a smile. “I’m interested and worried Tomu. You may not realize it but you’re actually interesting to learn about. You keep yourself so guarded and everything kept a secret. Remember when you wouldn’t tell me your name and I had to call you your username from the game? You don’t have to tell me about your quirk, like ever, but I am worried that it’s causing you to react so much.”

“It isn’t just the quirk.” It’s harder to read him now.

“I know,” you smile, “but you don’t have to tell about your tic either if it’s something you don’t want to share.

“You’re too curious for your own good,” he huffs at you, humor laced in his voice.

“You know the saying, ‘curiosity killed the cat,’” you laugh nervously.

He gives you a questioning look. “Look, it isn’t a big deal. I’ve dealt with it for a while.”

“It doesn’t hurt?” He shrugs and you roll your eyes. “Well as long as you aren’t in pain or whatever, I won’t press anymore if it bothers you.”

The game noises start again and you can hear a faint blast. “How was your day?”

“I went to work and it was all right. I got a few rude customers but they just mostly complained about how long their order was taking or about me. I didn’t do much after. I just took home some sandwiches from work and ate one of them on the way home and when I got here I took a shower and was about to watch a movie when you messaged. And now we’re here.”

“Are the sandwiches good?”

“Oh my god, I love them!” You smile widely. “Not to be pretentious or anything, but the bread there is crisp and ugh, you can never go wrong with bread. Oh we add so much ham, like that bad boy can fit so much ham, you don’t even know!” You stick out your tongue with a grin on your lips.

He snorts and a smile waves onto his face, it trembles like he’s trying to hide it but ultimately fails. His shoulders shake and a grin breaks out, it’s toothy and wide and he covers his face with a hand and hunches over. “You’re so—” he snorts— “fucking dumb.” His laugh is sharp and cackle like. His smile is wide and he tries to stifle his laughter with his hand. “Fucking ham is what you’re excited about?”

“Hey,” you click your tongue at him, “ham is really good!”

“Fucking dumbass,” he snorts, little bits of giggles escaping him and for a second, he’s normal.

“Yeah, well, you’re friends with this dumbass.” You stick your tongue out at him. “Anyways, what—”

“Yeah,” he sighs, a gentle curve on his lips, “I am friends with a dumbass,” he glances at you and his soft smile turns to something different, “and you’re friends with me.”

Your leg twitches involuntarily. “Ha, yeah, I am.” You smile at him, and you look away from him. “Guess we’re stuck with each other,” you joke.

“Is that how you see it?” He asks, cocking his head to the side. You give him a wink accompanied by a smirk. He shakes his head and rolls his eye as he lets out a chuckle.

You’re filled with a warm feeling in your chest. You sometimes forget that he’s Tomura. You forget that he has a life outside of what he shares with you but when he smiles and laughs, you remember who he is. He’s Tomura. He has bright red eyes and a loud laugh. You don’t understand why he laughed so hard, but you won’t question it if you get to see this side of him. Your fingers inch to the FN and END keys. Your smile softens and gaze is focused on the light pink that dusts his cheeks. When he turns to you with eyes smiling and wide grin, he’s completely facing you when you press down simultaneously on the keys. As if a switch were flipped, you both stop and eyes are wide, your face burns with humiliation and suck in air through your teeth.

“What did you do?” He asks, confusion and anger mixed in his voice.

You fake cough and take a quick swig of your water bottle, trying to buy yourself some time. You give out another fake cough and avoid his gaze. “I uh- I just thought that you looked really nice smiling and I don’t have a picture of you and I’m sorry?” You give him an apologetic smile. “If it bothers you I can delete it?”

“Are you going to post it anywhere?” He asks, tone devoid of humor.

“No!” You answer quickly. “Of course not!” You pat your cheeks. “Listen I’ll delete it but I just really liked how you looked. You looked really handsome and I wanted to have a picture of you.” Your face burns and you want to hide yourself from him. “I just did it without thinking how you would feel. I’m sorry.”

“You wanted a picture of me?” He asks surprised.

You pull the blanket up to cover your lower face. “Can we please move on, I’ll delete it just ugh, can we move on?”

He smirks. “No, no. You took it without thinking?”

“Tomura,” you whine. “You don’t get to tease!” Despite your words, a smile grows on your face and the blanket falls down to cover your keyboard.

“You took the picture,” he conuters.

“Because you looked cute,” you laugh, shaking your head and running hand through your hair. “Look, do you want me to delete it?”

His smile falls and eyes glance around. “…No. It’s fine. Just don’t show it to anyone,” he speaks softly, his hands travelling to his neck.

“Tomura, you’re scratching his neck. Are you sure that it doesn’t bother you?”

He licks his lips and sighs. His head bends down and when he rises, he rolls his shoulders. “Just don’t show it to anyone,” he requests.

You nod quickly. “I promise I won’t!”

He leans back in his chair and blows a strand of hair away from his face. He cranes his head upwards. “Yeah, I know you won’t. I trust you,” he murmurs.

You inhale sharply and look at him with wide eyes. He’s refusing to stare at you, eyes focused on the ceiling above him.

You mouth unspoken words, eyebrows furrowing together. You nod to yourself and sink into the bed. “I trust you too.” Your stomach churns and gaze is soft. “You’re a good friend Tomura.” Your mouth has a faint taste of copper.

-

The screen is black for a few seconds before it returns to the a white screen flashing the call time and asking for you to review the app. You click the ‘Not Now’ option and you click on folder on the taskbar. You’re in the screenshot folder before you even realize it, eyes glazed over and you fix the window until it takes half of the screen. The open window peeks behind, your eyes move slowly to look at the tab the reader ‘Breaking News’ and slowly your mouse moves over to fix the window, resizing it and everything compresses to fit the screen. You click on the tab.

There, in a big picture that takes up most of the page is an alert from the time you went out with your friends- when you had gotten mixed up in a crowd that wanted to catch a glimpse of action between the heroes and the villains. There, right before the article starts, is a blurry picture of the League of Villains. Your stomach drops and your body is light and heavy all at once. It’s blurry, pixelated, there’s smoke obscuring and bad lighting, but it’s him.

You wished you didn’t recognize the so-called leader. You wish his eyes were a different color, that he was thinner or thicker, taller or shorter, you didn’t care what the difference was as long as you could kid yourself that it wasn’t him- that it wasn’t your friend. But it all adds up- the shade of his hair, the shade of his eyes, his scars, his everything.

Your eyes begin to sting with exhaustion, mind growing heavy. You run your thumb over the tips of your fingers, and even if you want to lie to yourself, to forget that you researched about his quirk and have it lead you down the rabbit hole, you can’t when he stares right back at you with a smile, when he’s Tomura. You can’t lie to yourself when a cold eye is captured and face is hidden by a hand. When you read the comments and people speculate about what a monster he is.

“He isn’t a monster,” you whisper, “he’s Tomura. A monster doesn’t like peach gummies.” Your eyes are wide and you close the tabs wincing as they disappear one by one. You close your laptop with shaky hands and shove it next to you.

Maybe you’re wrong but you know you’re not. You researched too much, looked up what people swore they saw underneath his mask- all commenting that he was a monster, others raising him that he was a savior, others insulting him and it made everything so much worse.

His hands are much larger than yours. You wonder what would’ve happened if you went in for a handshake when you first met. The thought makes you laugh, your shoulders bouncing and little breathy giggles fill the room that turn into chocked sobs and shaking shoulders with your face buried into your hands.

“Oh god, no, no,” you wail, curling in on yourself, eyes wide and vision blurry as tears drip from your face. “Please let me be wrong, please,” you plead to no one. Your arms go over your head, gripping and entangling your fingers in your hair. “It can’t be him. He’s Tomura,” your voice cracks and it’s getting harder to breathe. “He likes peach flavor- flavored things and- and he trusts me and he has a- a itchy neck and- and… Fuck.” You hiss out, shutting your eyes tight and whimpering when hot tears burn down the side of you cheeks. You clamp your hands around your mouth and stifle any broken sobs that escape. “Fuck.”

Tagged:

@rogueofbullshit

@loveableasshole

@yul-is-sparkling

@noonewouldlisten25

@noodlenerd101

@localdisaster

@snackgod

@iikillerkitteh

@ drapetomaniaac

@shigaraki-is-my-master

@rekoii

@ txmaki0

@ katelyn-cuteson

@ justoneofthosepeople

[thenakedgingerwrites]

My Personal Trainer

I met Nick five months ago when he became my personal trainer. I joined the gym in the summer to finally work my body towards my personal goals. I had been skinny all my life and knew that if I wanted to change it I would have to get serious. Five months of 3-5 workouts a week and heavy carb/protein loading I was pushing towards my goal. I was up 20 pounds of muscle and my progress pics were really showing obvious changes. I of course had taken photos every step of the way, but hadn't really shared them with anyone until recently. Nick and I had our weekly Monday appointment scheduled. Today was chest day for me and he pushed me hard through it. I was actually pretty lucky getting Nick as my trainer. He was attractive but not instantly my type. It was easier to get a solid workout in if I wasn't drooling over my trainer the entire time. Nick was probably 5'11. He had a lot of muscle but was rounded since bulking season had set in. His arms were massive, chest was broad, and butt (from what I could tell) was quite a bubble. His legs were probably the most underdeveloped part of him but they weren't thin by any means. Definitely thicker than mine. Nick was pale but had clear, unblemished skin. His hair was dark and kept short. In fact sometimes his beard would get longer than his hair before he trimmed everything up. He was one of the few trainers that didn't seem to shave everything. His legs and arms had a nice layer of thick dark hair.

I tried not to fantasize about him but couldn't help the occasional naughty thought, especially when he would demonstrate squat formations or anything that popped his butt. However, I really tried to keep things professional. No harmless flirting or ogles were done by this guy. Nick figured out I was gay probably 2 months into our routine. It didn't phase him at all and things continued as normal. He would occasionally ask about my personal life, if I was seeing anyone, and I'd ask the same. We were both helplessly single but he was straight so there were no possibilities there. I didn't shower at the gym since I lived so close and Nick always did his workouts in the afternoon before I arrived. What this meant is that I'd never even seen the guy shirtless. The most skin I'd ever seen on the man was his calves, arms, and occasional upper thigh depending on the workout. His body was still a mystery, and that was probably a good thing for me. That all changed in the 4 month mark. We were talking after my workout and just shooting the shit. He asked if I had taken progress pictures and I explained I had, but wasn't quite ready to share. Maybe one day, I told him. He understood, but offered up his own. He flipped through his phone and then handed it to me. "Don't flip too much though," Nick said with a nervous laugh. He obviously had nudes on his phone. Of him or of someone else I wondered? The screen was zoomed in to a 3 picture side-by-side, each 6 months apart. I should probably mention that it was his neck down in nothing but some tight underwear. My eyes must have bulged. His body was amazing. I mean he definitely was a 'round' muscled guy but that was absolutely my type. His chest had a light dusting of dark hair which picked back up around his belly button and continued south, growing in intensity until it was hidden below his waistband. He kept his body hair trimmed but definitely all there. I couldn't help but focus on his package. Fuck keeping things personal, I thought. The pictures weren't amazingly lit, but I could easily see the large bulge in his briefs. Whether it was cock, balls, or both I couldn't tell. Whatever it was though, it was hefty. "... and if you blend that all together, it makes a wicked easy meal with tons of calories." Oh shit! I had completely zoned out while looking at his pictures. Quick, say something. "Well it's working out really well for you Nick. This is great progress. I'd be happy with any of them, honestly." Nick laughed. "Like, for your own body or as in your boyfriend?" It had seemed innocent enough but a million thoughts were running through my head. "Umm, well I meant for my own body, but if I was lucky enough to snatch someone up with a body like yours, I'd hold on tight." Nick just gave a cheesy grin and said thanks. We talked for a few more minutes about our weeks and what I would focus on while at the gym. Unfortunately, that night I jacked off thinking about those photos. The next night, I texted Nick telling him how raw I was from the workout yesterday and he responded with the picture he showed me. "Pain builds progress" he wrote with it. That week I did nothing but masturbate to that photo. The slippery slope had started and there was no turning back. Another month went by without much significance except how I looked at Nick. He was no longer just my personal trainer, he was now an object of my lust. Every workout he showed me I couldn't help but turn it dirty in my mind. I was losing it. We had hung out a few times outside of the gym. It had always been with a bunch of the gym staff for a game or just a night out in downtown. I got a text on Saturday morning asking if I wanted to hang out and drink some beers. His roommate was out of town and he wanted to enjoy the apartment to himself while watching the football game. I agreed, trying not to fantasize about unrealistic outcomes. When I got there he was basically in gym attire. I felt a bit dressed up in my nice jeans and button up shirt but oh well. We drank while watching the game, Nick drinking much faster than me. Near the end of the 3rd quarter, it was obvious our home team was going to win and interest in the game subsided. We talked about the gym, work, girls, guys, and continued to drink. I was getting tipsy at this point but Nick was sufficiently drunk. "When are you gonna show me your progress photos, man?" Nick asked me. He actually didn't need to beg much. The alcohol helped, but it only felt fair knowing how much I'd stared at his almost naked body. "Eh, I'll show you. Remember, I was SKINNY. Don't make fun." "I would never! Plus you've grown so much. I'm so proud!" He was smiling ear to ear. It made me swoon a little. I flipped through my phone to get the most recent. It was my 5 month comparison photo. Nothing too crazy. Just standing in front of the mirror flexing one arm in my underwear. I wore skimpy briefs but it was nothing x-rated. I had clearly changed. My ribs were no longer visible and every muscle and it's own definition. Where a flat chest had been there were now pecs. Where a stick arm was there was muscled girth. "Wow! I'm so impressed; you've changed more than I imagined." "Thanks Nick." I was genuinely appreciative of his compliments. "Although, you need to get better at posing." "What?" Nick continued, "You're not showing off the right muscles in these. Like, you've grown a lot in your back but you can't tell in these." "Oh, haha. I didn't realize there was an art to gym selfies." I chastised him a little sarcastically. "There is!!" Nick was drunkenly serious. This was clearly a subject he was passionate about. "Okay, how do you feel about practicing some?" "Sure, that's fine." I said. "You'd have to take off those clothes though to see what I mean." Nick was very direct. I played along, my mind secretly hoping for something like this or more. "That's fine. You would too, right? To show me?" "Yeah, yeah. Obviously." With that Nick stripped. There was no romantic tease to it. This was clearly just what Nick said it was and nothing more. In a few seconds he had peeled out to just his tight boxer briefs. I stood there for longer than I should have because he cleared his throat and said, "you're turn." I quickly snapped back to reality and disrobed as well. I wore my tight AussieBum red briefs tonight just in case something like this happened. What can I say, I'm a planner. "Nice briefs man." Nick offered. "Nice body." He laughed. "Okay, so the first pose is really to show off your Lats and all the work you've been doing on your back." He walked through a couple poses and I imitated him. He would correct me a few times and move my arms or body in the right way. I was really proud of myself for not popping an erection at all with the contact. Minutes passed and things started to get warm in the living room from all our flexing and holding poses. Nick offered to take some photos for me on my phone and I happily agreed. They would be much better than selfies. After taking some photos Nick asked if I would do the same. I obviously agreed. We got to a pose that Nick wanted to try to accentuate his butt. He stood sideways to the camera and twisted his torso towards the lens to accentuate the roundness of his bubble butt. I took a few photos, wishing they were on my phone instead. "Does it look good? Does my butt look good?" He asked me. "It looks incredible Nick. Easily one of the hottest asses I've ever seen." I didn't really think about what I was saying anymore. We were both getting drunk by this time. "Coming from you that means a lot, thanks!" Nick replied with a cheesy smile. "Hey, I kind of want to get some more but without my briefs. Is that okay?" "You want me to take your nudes for you?" I sarcastically asked. Probably should have played that differently. He laughed loudly, "No! I can take my own dick pics thank you. I'll still cover the goods up, I just want some sexier ones without underwear." "Sure, why would I mind?" Nick shrugged, "I dunno, just wanted to make sure, ya know?" He turned around to slip his briefs off. His butt, was amazing. Two large globes of muscle sat atop his legs. They were dusted in his dark fur but he kept his butt trimmed as well. He went through the same poses but was really good at covering up his cock with either his legs or his hands. As much as I wanted to, I never actually saw what he was packing other than some heavy pubes. When Nick felt he had enough shots, he plopped down onto the couch. He grabbed his briefs and placed them over this crotch but didn't actually put them on. He asked for his phone and flipped through the photos when I handed it to him. He was clearly pleased with the photos. "Is it bad that I find myself hot?" he asked. I laughed, still standing there in my underwear. "No. Is it bad if I do?" Oops. He looked up at me. "You think I'm hot?" I didn't know what to do. I scrambled to find words that would make this alright but the drunken haze was cast over my thoughts. "Well, never mind. That answers that question." Nick was looking down on me. I followed his eyes to see my obvious erection in my briefs. Shit!! I covered up quickly and turned from him. That's when he started laughing. "Don't worry about it dude. I'm flattered. Can't say I've given a guy a hard on before. Nice to know I can." "Ha, ha" I said sarcastically, still trying to will my cock to shrink. "Really, it's not a big deal. Come'on. Come here and help me figure out what shots are the best. You'll clearly have an eye for what looks good here." I looked over my shoulder and he was patting the seat of the couch beside him. I said Fuck it in my head and went to sit by him. My erection wasn't gone at all, but at this point in my life I wasn't really that shy about nudity anymore. A few minutes of flipping through shots and adding filters here and there, Nick asked me a question out of the blue. "So you really like cocks? Like, they look good to you?" "Yeah. Don't you like the look of your dick?" I replied. "Well yeah, but that's mine, ya know. I've never thought any other dick was nice." "I guess that's the difference in being gay," i laughed at that. Nick laughed too. "I guess you're right. But like, what exactly do you like about them?" I couldn't really explain it well after I thought for a moment. "I'm not really sure there's specific things or features I like about dicks and balls. It's just linked so closely with arousal that even seeing one triggers so much sexual endorphin release in me. And it's a muscle that can't hide sexual feelings, as we've clearly seen tonight. I like how honest cocks are." Nick lost it at that. "Hahaha, you like how 'honest' cocks are! That's a new one." "I'm a sucker for an honest dick, what can I say?" I laughed with him. Nick put his phone down. "Okay, then tell me. Do I have an honest dick?" He pulled his briefs off his cock. I stared without caring how obvious I was being, plus I assumed that's what he wanted. His cock was awesome. It was still pretty soft, cut, and pretty thick from what I could tell. However, it was his balls that was giving the bulging briefs in his photos. They were massive. He kept almost all his hair closely trimmed but Nick shaved his balls. "It's um... it's... honestly awesome. Nick, your balls are huge!" was all I could put together. "Haha, yeah. They've been big since I was a teenager." He handled them with palm and moved them around a bit. I swore I saw his cock twitch a bit too. "So, this is hot to you? Like, you actually think my cock and my balls are sexy?" "Do you need reassurance?" "No, no. It's just, I'm trying to figure it out. I'm.. I just can't believe someone would find someone else's dick hot." "Well, I could prove it to you." I offered. "Oh yeah? How?" Nick said. He's not a very good actor and it seemed obvious where this was going. I played it safe though and went with another slow tell. I moved my hand to his thigh. "I could show you how much I like your cock." Nick smiled. "You may have to. I still think you're fibbin'" "I would never lie," I joked. I moved my hand the extra few inches to his soft package. It felt even bigger in my hands. I had to skip to his balls first though since they were so incredibly. I moved them around and massaged them with my fingers. I would pull on them a little bit and stretch the skin which elicited light moans from Nick. I felt adventurous for a few reasons and leaned in. I kissed his balls, first lightly, and then heavier with some wet tongue. Nick moaned more. I continued to kiss and lick his balls while loosely gripping his cock. It was filling up quickly. A few seconds later, he was hard in my hand. I backed up from his balls to take a look at his meat. It was thicker than I thought. Probably 6 inches or so in length but probably the same around. It was the hottest cock I'd ever seen. I looked up to Nick just to reassure myself it was him and that this was honestly happening. He caught my eyes and just whispered, "Please don't stop." Oh that made me wet. I got down onto the floor and moved in between his legs. I took hold of his shaft and licked that cock from base to head like a popsicle. It was delicious. He had already started to precum a little for me. I wasn't in the mood to tease and went right into it. I took as much of Nick's cock into my mouth as I could. He wasn't super long but the girth prevented me from taking him all in on the first go. As I sucked with his member filling my mouth, Nick's light moans evolved to deep rumbling groans. He was loving this which made me even hornier. A couple of bobs was all it took for me to get most of him in my throat. After that I could try my different techniques (which were admittedly rusty). I swiveled my tongue around his head, used my hand to match pace with my mouth, and used a little teeth on the retract. Nick was loving each skill and would buck uncontrollably at some. I was surprised what a gentleman he was. He didn't try and grab my head to face fuck me (although I would have been fine with it) and made it very audible how much he appreciated what I was doing. "Fuck yes. That feels so good. You're amazing. You're incredible. Please don't stop." were the only things he could muster between groans. It only took a couple of minutes before Nick's balls began to tighten. I knew he was getting close. He finally did take hold of my head, but to remove it and saying, "I"m about to cum, man." What a fucking knight. "Good," I said and fought against his grip to latch back onto his cock. He tried to pull me off him again, "No, you really don't have to do that. I don't want you to feel like you do." I continued to stroke him with my hands as I popped off to say, "You don't know what it's like to be gay, but fact one, I WANT to do this." I batted his hands away and took his cock back into my wanting mouth. He just said, "oh god, oh god." over and over as he edged towards the finish line. Nick tried to hold back his orgasm as long as he could but finally he couldn't fight anymore. I took hold of his balls with a free hand as he erupted into me. His tank had definitely been full and I almost struggled to get it all down. Jet after jet of warm seed filled my mouth and was swallowed down. Nick tried to remain still but was bucking and shaking uncontrollably between his heavy breathing. When I was sure he was done, I milked him dry with a last squeeze and popped off his still hard cock. "So," I said, "believe me now that I actually like cock?" He tried to laugh but didn't have the energy. "That. Was. Amazing. I've never gotten head like that before. You're a master." I laughed. "Stand up," Nick said. I did as commanded and rose before him. I was still rock hard in my briefs, and had actually popped out a little on top. He put his hands on my ass and pulled me in closer. I had no words for what was happening, so I just went with it. He fondled me through my briefs for a bit, getting used to the feeling of a hard cock in close proximity to his body. He swallowed, and shucked my briefs to the floor. My cock sprang out and almost hit him in the face which he wasn't expecting and jumped back a bit. I couldn't help but laugh, "You're right to be scared. He bites." "You're huge, dude!" I was definitely longer than Nick. Around 8 inches, but not near as thick. And my balls were only average compared to his massive globes a few feet below. He hesitantly took hold of my cock with one hand and slowly stroked it. This was clearly more for him than it was for me. He was exploring what another man's cock was like and I didn't want to rush him through that. Plus it was incredibly hot to see him oaf around it like a foreign object. After giving me a slow, steady hand job for a few minutes he swallowed again and licked his lips. He inched closer and closed his eyes. I was now feeling bad about this. "Nick, stop. You don't have to do this. You don't owe me anything." He finally looked up at me. "No, I know. I just, I want to see what it's like." "Okay, but go slow. Don't do anything that makes you uncomfortable and you can stop anytime." He was looking at my dick again and nodded. He inched close again and closed his eyes to lick my cock head. Once he had a taste he moved his tongue around in his mouth to figure out if he liked it or not. "It just tastes like, skin?" I laughed, "yeah, they don't come in different flavors." "I guess I just, I thought it would taste different." I explained to him that it can if a guy precums a lot, but that I didn't. My cock was a great 'beginners' cock. We both laughed a bit. He then took hold with one hand and tried to wrap his lips around my cock. He could, but didn't take too much into his mouth. He bobbed on my cock like he thought he should but only took an inch or two in at a time and without any suction. What should I have expected from a straight guy. However poor the actual blow job was going, it was Nick who was giving it and that was incredibly hot. I was loving every second of it regardless. I must have began to leak a bit because Nick pulled away with a slight disgust taste on his mouth.

"That's what I expected they tasted like." Nick said with some nervous laughter.

"Yeah, if you don't like that you definitely won't like the ending."

He looked visibly nervous. I leaned down and pushed him away from my cock. "You're done. I'm not letting you go any further. Thanks for trying."

He sighed some relief, "Thanks for letting me try. And for that amazing blow job you gave me. I just wish I could return the favor."

"Trust me Nick, I loved every minute of that probably as much as you did." We both smiled.

"Well, do you wanna shoot on my chest?" Nick said.

I froze for a second and then began dying of laughter.

"What? People do that right?" Nick looked at my confused.

"Hahahaha, sure Nick, sure they do. But rarely does a straight guy just go, 'hey wanna cum on my chest?' It was just too funny."

He leaned back and rubbed his chest seductively, playing with himself a bit too. His cock had softened up almost entirely. "Do you wanna cum on this hot piece of man or not?"

I did.

I leaned into him and put one arm on his shoulder and the other on my cock. Nick just stared at the barrel of the gun in somewhat excited anticipation actually. Having this hunk below me, wanting my cum all over him, was enough to help me finish quickly. My balls tightened as the first blast shot forward onto his pecs. 8 steams of hot spunk fell onto Nick, coating his chest, abs, and cock in my cum. I sighed in relief.

"Hot." was all Nick had to say before we both started laughing.

We stayed there for a minute while I got my breath back and then he offered we take a shower. I rubbed his back, he rubbed mine. I probably washed his ass more than I had to but he didn't stop me or protest. By the end of the shower we both had erections again but heading into the living room he put on his briefs which signaled the nights fun was over.

We both fell asleep on the couch that night and I woke up spooning him in the morning. He was snoring. I got off of him and got the rest of my clothes on to leave. Before I left I looked back at this amazing, delicious man I had known for the past few months. He was sprawled out, chest up, almost naked in his tight white briefs. He had a serious case of morning wood going on that was clearly visible.

I felt naughty and probably was risking more than I should have, but I gave into the momentary idea. I got down on my knees and fished his cock and balls out of his briefs and gave them some light kisses. Nick continued to snore obliviously.

I took a step back to admire the view. I decided to take a picture of him like this for later use. I was going to put his junk back in but last minute decided instead to bob on it a couple times for one last taste and leave.

When I got home I felt guilty about the picture. I didn't want to delete it for obvious reasons but felt like I crossed a line. I decided to text him the photo with the caption "Had a great night. Took this souvenir. Hope you don't mind ;)"

That way if he wanted me to delete it he could tell me, but at least he would know that I had it.

I woke up from a nap to a response from Nick. "Likewise"

A few seconds later a video came through. I opened it and saw myself giving Nick head, his loud moans were close to the speaker. That little shit took a video of me blowing him without me knowing. The anger was only a reflex and I quickly found it hilarious that he captured that moment.

I texted him back, "That's blackmail!"

"Maybe it is. I need something to hold onto to remember last night."

"You could always just get the real thing again if you needed a reminder."

"Deal! Deleted."

"You don't really have to delete it, you can keep it for your own spank bank."

"haha good. I wasn't actually going to delete it anyway."

"lol, dick."

....

Bling. A picture of his hard cock and balls came through.

"This one?? ;P"

I was definitely jacking off today. "Tease!"

He replied, "I think we need to have a special work out session each week after our gym sessions. There are some special muscles we need to work out."

"Deal, see you Monday."

My training sessions had become something more, and I was absolutely, fucking floored about it.

[faelune-home]

FFXIV Write 2021 #21: Feckless

(a/n: Another quick rush to submit this, so there is definitely some clean up near the end of this I’ll have to do when I post this edited for ao3 XD

But I realised I hadn’t written a job specific piece yet all month, and I was reminded of some astro fluff I’d done last year, which I suppose is tentatively mentioned here? If you want to read that and more of my WoL’s job learning habits, it’s here; Shuffle

But yes, a mix of wanting to write job stuffs - Jannequinard being the feckless one here, the inspo for this piece - and maybe have a Scion meet a job trainer, in this case Alphi. Which def makes me want to add another section to this given the trainers in question...but that’s for later edits, I already rushed this greatly aha.

Also, after sticking to using Fhara to refer to my WoL, and sticking to such situations where people would only know her as that, I finally got to try using “Fufu” as an adventuring alias with a crowd that would only know her as that. Finally representing the idea I’ve long had now. XD

Set after 3.2 and all that happened then. This is kind of taking my WoL’s penchant for taking on extra jobs more for the experience than to dedicate entirely to it, but then mixing that with her desire to do more to help her companions when she feels rather hopeless and lost.

Word count: 2006)

The air in Ishgard was tense following the failed peace conference in Falcon’s Nest, with uneasy whispers filling the cobbled streets and nervous glances to the skies. Alphinaud could scarcely blame the people for their wariness, having heard Nidhogg’s warning for himself. So set on revenge, he had even renounced his own kin, set on having the blood of Ishgardian and dragon alike to stain the land. And Estinien would be the one to administer the attack, against whatever will he would still possess.

The sight of his friend in such a state, the prone body of Vedofnir beneath him, skewered on his lance, had chilled Alphinaud at the time, and even still to recall it. Alongside the image of Aymeric, primed with a bow, ready to shoot his own comrade without hesitation...were it not for Nidhogg’s timely departure, that would be another companion sacrificed in the name of war.

In amongst his tormented memories of that calamitous day, he recalled Fhara’s conflicted expression. In amongst the rising roars and jeers of a hungry crowd, they were in their own bubble where not a word was said, only the share looks of pained terror at the turn of events, yet even her own fear seemed so much more. It was only later, overhearing the Fortemps family discussing the conference that he had learned more of what had happened that day, and Fhara’s own struggles with the conference, to put it lightly.

Afterwards, Fhara started going for more frequent lessons at the Athenaeum Astrologicum. So eager was she in her studies that she was often away from the manor or out of the city for days at a time. Alphinaud knew she was only keeping busy, and that he had no reason to fear for her safety, but eventually, after a few brief greetings in passing at the manor, he found himself desiring her company proper.

For all the bustle the Athenaeum Astrologicum had been put under in the recent weeks, it was surprisingly peaceful the day he arrived to visit, a welcome reprieve from Ishgard’s otherwise heavy atmosphere. Only a few students milled around within the building, hard at work studying star maps or tomes. The receptionist stood to attention at Alphinaud’s entrance, pushing aside a tome that had clearly been giving him some stress, the frustrated creases giving way to a welcoming, if affected smile.

“Good day, my young ser,” the older elezen said with a bow, “What manner of business brings you to our humble hall? A prior meeting or a dire emergency?”

“Nothing of the sort, sir, I’m merely looking for a friend,” Alphinaud stated, looking around the small space, trying to catch a glimpse of a blonde tail or the familiar pigtailed head he knew, “I’m aware that she’s made use of your establishment for study purposes?”

“Study purposes? Ah, I see,” the receptionist brightened up, after an initial look of curiosity had crossed his face, “You must mean the ever charming Miss Fufu. She does indeed study here under our own Lord Rufin, but she is out at the moment on an errand. Although I’m quite certain she’ll return soon, if you don’t mind waiting.”

“I wouldn’t wish to take up space, I’d be more than happy to return later-” Alphinaud started, already making for the door, when the other man quickly said, “Come now, there’s scarcely anyone here for you to trouble! And with how much work needs getting done here and how eager the young miss is about assisting us, you’d be better waiting here to catch her lest she runs off again.”

“I...I suppose knowing her, she does have an unfortunate tendency to take on more work for herself than is necessary,” the boy mumbled, ignoring the mild pang of guilt at how often he had given her that work in the past, even if she hadn’t ever questioned it or limited herself. He’d already promised her that he wouldn’t continue to blame himself for past mistakes.

“Then stay a while, all the better to wait with company, right?” Yet before Alphinaud could agree, if only to cease the chattering man and resign himself to a corner to wait, the sound of footsteps from the back stairwell seemed to make the receptionist’s grin fall to a worn grimace.

“If I were to ask now, how much is her work that of her own, and how much of it is meant to be yours? Even if you wish to say she took it on willingly, need I remind you that you’re still behind in your own studies in comparison? And I would be very surprised if you say you’re taking the time now to read up on your necessary materials while you’ve chosen to stay behind here.” The voice of the barrage of questions appeared, a hyuran woman with cropped purple hair and wearing a long white robe not unlike that of the city clergy, and with a firm disappointed frown aimed directly at the other man.

“How kind of you to join us Lord Rufin,” the receptionist coughed, attempting to give a placating smile, “Although I was under the impression that you had other business elsewhere.”

“And I returned while you were away from your post,” she replied, expression unwavering, “I did assume you were off assisting with whatever the Observatorium needed, and I would understand given the current troubles in the city, but if it turns out it was another pointless meeting with a young lady-”

“Not at all! My uncle has me far too busy for such arrangements, I assure you,” he scoffed, “Have some faith in me. And some faith in Miss Fufu, she offered to deliver my missives so that I would have a chance at further study.” The woman, Lord Rufin, narrowed her eyes, but didn’t press him further, only nudging his cast aside tome back in front of him, and then turning to Alphinaud.

“So, you’re a friend of Fufu’s? She has spoken somewhat of her companions, but most of our time together has been advancing her studies in astromancy,” she said, casting a quick glance across the boy, as though taking stock of him. He would’ve felt uncertain of the gesture if it weren’t for the friendlier tone she addressed him with.

“Aye, she has said that she found the time to learn such arts. Although I’m rather surprised that it appears to be the Sharlayan variant of healing magicks. I would’ve thought Ishgard opposed such methods,” Alphinaud nodded, noting the star globe hung from Rufin’s back. He did recall the first time Fhara had showcased her small talents, so long before her foray into the Aery, before many of the disasters that had followed them. Minor though they were, she did have an aptitude for some healing spells.

“They were, at first,” Rufin smiled, “But with enough work and convincing, plus admittedly the Holy See’s...diminished say in matters around here, some few folk have been willing to take on the arts. It helps that even outside of any fate reading skills, astromancy is a boon to have on the battlefield, something many of the soldiers have been keen to have for aid.” 

With a glance over her shoulder at the begrudgingly studious elezen at the desk, she added, more quietly for Alphinaud only, “And I suppose I have to admit that, for all he’s rather feckless when it comes to his studies vs Miss Fufu’s enthusiasm, Jannequinard was a great help in getting interest to take off amongst the other student here, and getting us the chance to showcase our skill in the first place.”

“I see,” Alphinaud nodded in response, noting the name and recognising it as a notable - for many reasons - Durendaire lord, however his curiosity was taken on another note, as he asked, “But why come all the way here to teach? Even if Ishgard eventually allowed it, knowing the Forum…”

“Yes, we had some letters and disagreements sent our way,” Rufin huffed, waving a hand in dismissal, “But in the end, they didn’t try to stop us, so I’m not going to worry about it.” Alphinaud suspected otherwise, noting how quickly she brushed aside the topic, plus his own experience overhearing his father at work, but chose better than to pursue it. It wasn’t any of his business.

At that time, the doors burst open, and Fhara appeared, panting heavily as she swept into the room, the skirts of her long gown flourishing behind her as the last of the chill wind caught it. 

“I’m back! Sorry I took so long, I got rather turned around in the Crozier delivering some of the messag-” Her eyes widened in surprise as she caught sight of her friend. “Oh, Alphinaud! I wasn’t expecti- I mean, is everything alright? Did something happen?”

“Calm yourself first,” Rufin chided gently, “You’re clearly quite flustered.”

“Please, nothing is wrong,” Alphinaud nodded, taking a seat from the table and guiding his friend to sit, “I was merely here waiting for you.” Some few seconds passed as Fhara breathed, trying to recollect herself. A tome snapped shut, and Jannequinard stepped out from the desk. “Lord Rufin, perhaps we should give these two a moment, given that the young lad came all this way to meet with his companion. And if you would be so kind, I could do with some help understanding a page or two here.” Rufin raised an eyebrow, but nodded, casting another glance at the pair before leaving with her coworker.

When the sound of footsteps ascending up the wooden stairs faded, Fhara turned to her friend and asked, “So, are you alright?”

The boy was briefly taken aback. “I’m perfectly alright. It is you I would ask that of.”

“Me?” She blinked.

“Well, it has been some time since we’ve properly seen each other these past few days. I know that you look for things to pass the time and keep you busy, of course, but I’ve been rather worried that you were almost too busy. And it seems so given how you seem rushed off your feet here.”

“It’s nothing like that!” Fhara gaped, although a guilty flick of the ear was already betraying her, “I’m just here learning from Rufin. Everything I’m doing is part of that, or doing some idle favours to show my appreciation.”

“Or lightening another’s workload to busy your own mind?” Fhara flinched at the accusation.

“But why? You’ve never been one for the healing arts other than as an idle study, more so for emergencies. I don’t wish to sound as though it’s odd to see you so invigorated for a subject, but why throw yourself into it now?” Fhara didn’t answer, her head turned down and gaze focused on the floor.

“...Is it because of the peace conference?” No reply.

“The Vault?” Her tail flicked.

“...Ysyale?”

“Yes,” she finally replied, a quiet mumble half buried into her chest, “Ysayle, and Minfilia, and Haurchefant, and everyone else. Estinien and Vedofnir, and Honoroit and Emmanelain, and that woman that tried to insight an outburst at the conference, and everyone else.” She finally looked up, wearing a guilty smile with tears already seeping from her eyes.

“I just want to help. But I don’t know what to do.” An ache pounded in his chest to see her weep. Even for someone so emotionally open, she was normally of the cheery type. To see her cry and bemoan how she couldn’t help everyone...

“You know you aren’t alone in this. I am here to help you- all the Scions are.”

“I know-”

“Don’t throw yourself into this if it's not something you really truly want. If it’s only for the sake of others. You would only bring yourself harm if you force it upon yourself.” Fhara sniffed, brushing aside the tears.

In that moment, he swore he wouldn’t leave her to shoulder it alone. He had already asked so much of her. He could spare his own strength to support her as well.

[writingfortoomanyfandoms]

Penny For Your Thoughts (IV)

Pairing: Young!Sirius Black x Reader

Series Summary: Y/N Y/L/N has lived in the Potter household since she was eight years old. Even amongst the Potters, whom she knew loved her, she has never felt truly accepted, never felt like anything other than a burden. Until she went to Hogwarts. For the first time she had friends who weren’t forced to act as such, she had a family who loved her by choice. There, she met Sirius, the first and only person to ever truly understand what she was going through, to listen to her and not judge.

Chapter Warnings: Ummm not sure - maybe swearing?

A/N: And here’s part four! Sorry, it’s like an hour later than usual bc I’m in pain and was asleep so didn’t see that it had turned 4 already but I hope you enjoy. Please let me know what you think - especially if you’re on the taglist, hearing your comments always inspires me to keep on writing, so please do let me know. If you wish to be added to the taglist send me an ASK, replies to the parts asking to be added onto it won’t be responded to

Also just to let you know, there’s been a bit of a time skip between this chapter and the previous, this is set at the beginning of the christmas holidays, there are gonna be a couple of these time jumps in the next few chapters so keep that in mind!

“Hey, mind if we join you?” James stood in the doorway of the train compartment containing the group of Hufflepuff girls, flanked by Peter and Remus, all of them holding their trunks. 

“Sure,” Beatrice moved her legs to make space for them to sit down on the chairs beside her. 

Jessica curled up further into herself, her eyes staring resolutely at the book in her hands, her cheeks a light pink as Remus sat on the same bench at her, ensuring to keep a fair amount of distance between him and the shy girl, though did his best to offer her a reassuring smile.

Liane and Y/N were sitting on the floor in between the two benches, playing a game of Exploding Snap with Liane’s deck. Beatrice was watching, having decided to sit out for the first round under the pretence of taking a nap.

Y/N knew better though. Beatrice had confided in her that morning at breakfast that she  was dreading going home for the Christmas holidays.

James grinned at Beatrice and sat down beside her, his eyes looking down at the game as well and Peter took the chair next to him, also feigning interest.

“Hang on - where’s Sirius?” Y/N asked, having expected to see the final part of their little group enter into the compartment behind them, but there was no sign of him. 

“He’s not going home for the holidays,” James informed her with a slight shrug of his shoulders. Y/N frowned at the news.

“He’s staying at Hogwarts?” Y/N asked in shock.

“That does tend to be the alternative to going home,” James confirmed, giving her a hard look, clearly telling her not to press the subject just yet. Y/N looked at him silently for a moment before sighing and nodding her head.

“Hey - keep playing, entertain me!” Beatrice groaned, throwing an empty chocolate frog box at Y/N’s head. She glared at her best friend, trying to hide her smile.

“I feel used,” Liane commented, frowning at Beatrice who winked at her. 

“If you’re lucky I’ll pay you for your services.”

“Now I just feel… dirty.” Liane shuddered a little. “Dirty and used.”

“James? Peter? Remus? Fancy playing?” Y/N spoke loudly to cut off the conversation between Liane and Beatrice. She held up the deck of exploding snap.

“Alright then,” James agreed, moving down to join the girls seated on the floor. As expected, Peter was quick to follow suit.

“Oh - I wanted to talk to you!” Liane exclaimed, pointing at James with her eyes gleaming mischievously. Y/N saw James exchange confused looks with Remus and Peter before shooting a questioning one at Y/N, who bit her lip and ducked her head to try and hide her laughter.

“Yeah?” James asked uncertainly. “What about?” As far as Y/N was aware, James and Liane had never actually had a conversation that Y/N wasn’t present for, but she could guess what she was about to tell him.

“We were talking a few nights ago,” Liane started, a serious look on her face. Even Jessica had raised her eyes from the book she was pretending to read, peeking over the top of the pages to watch the interaction and Y/N could tell that she was trying hard not to laugh. 

“That’s nice?” James said unsurely when Liane didn’t immediately continue. The red-headed girl gave a nod of approval, as though James had said just the right thing. 

“And you came up.”

“I knew you couldn’t resist talking about me,” James beamed at Y/N who rolled her eyes, finishing dealing out the cards and picking up her pile.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Liane waved him off. “Anyway - you and I would have cute children.”

James’ face slackened into one of utter shock, his eyes widening as he stared at her.

“I’m sorry?” He spluttered.

“It’s the truth - the two of us would have really cute children!”

“Well children aren’t exactly the first thing on my mind,” James responded a little faintly, still staring at Liane, who looked unconcerned as she picked up her own cards.

Remus, Beatrice and Y/N were in stitches from the interaction, while Jessica had lifted her book again to hide her own quiet laughter and Peter was tittering nervously, looking at James as though he was unsure of whether or not it was okay for him to laugh. 

“Maybe start with a proposal,” Beatrice offered between her laughs.

“Well obviously not,” Liane scoffed, doing a wonderful job at maintaining a serious expression, despite her lips twitching, obviously wanting to grin. “But, hypothetically speaking...”

“Hypothetically speaking we’d have cute kids?”

“Really cute kids,” Liane emphasised with a solemn nod of her head.

“Sorry to disappoint you but, unfortunately James is only interested in one red head,” Remus told her, managing to recover himself but there was still a wide, amused grin on his face.

“Now if Evans was to propose we have kids, that would be a whole other matter,” James confirmed immediately.

“Potter - you’re missing the point,” Liane sighed. “I don’t want to have kids with you - or, at least, the only reason I would is because I could enter them into beauty competitions and get money for it.”

“I feel like that’s morally wrong to some degree,” Y/N stated, playing her next card. 

“In this hypothetical world I’ve created it’s okay to do things that are morally ambiguous.”

“So they’re not morally ambiguous at all?” Remus questioned.

“Precisely.”

“Has Lily literally ever spoken to you other than to tell you to leave her alone?” Y/N asked, frowning at James.

“Yes,” he stated defiantly, jutting his chin in the air.

“Sometimes she asks him to pass him things at dinner.” Remus confirmed, laughing and dodging out of the way when James threw his Exploding Snap cards at him in retaliation.

“Careful with those! They’re not ours!” Liane complained.

“Whose are they, then?”

“Rosa’s,” Y/N shrugged as Remus collected the cards up again and handed them back to James.

“Who’s Rosa?”

“Are you joking?” Beatrice looked at James incredulously and the black-haired boy looked to his two friends, who clearly shared his confusion. “She’s the other Hufflepuff girl in our year.”

“She doesn’t exist,” James stated matter-of-factly.

“I’m sorry?” Y/N spluttered.

“I’ve never even heard of her!”

“There are so many things that you haven’t heard of Jamie, considering how small your brain is, it doesn’t mean that they don’t exist.”

Remus snorted with laughter at her response and shared a grin with Y/N. 

“I don’t know who she is either,” Peter piped up, looking glad that he was capable of lending his support to James who responded with a grateful nod.

“She’s in every charms class with you guys and sits with us at meals - you really don’t know who she is?” Liane asked.

“She must be shy,” Remus offered.

“Jess is shy! You still know who she is!” Beatrice protested, pointing at her friend, who went bright-red at being brought so suddenly into the conversation but mustered up as much of a smile as she could.

“Where is she now, then?” 

“She’s staying at school over the holidays and offered to lend us her pack of snap,” Y/N explained.

“Well… we’ll ask Sirius when we get back.”

“You’re going to ask Sirius to either confirm or deny the existence of our roommate?”

“Yes.”

“Good - just wanted to double check.”

The remainder of the train-ride back to London passed quickly, filled with games of Exploding Snap and talk about their plans for Christmas - Remus imploring Y/N to do her best to ensure that James actually got some of the homework that they had been set finished, followed by James feigning annoyance at his friends’ mothering.

“James! James over here!” Mrs Potter’s voice rang out across the station, audible to Y/N even over the hubbub of the other parents present to pick up their children for the holidays.

“Y/N!” Mr Potter called as well. James and Y/N smiled at each other, James rolling his eyes a little at the evident enthusiasm in his parents voices. 

“You two are going home together?” Peter asked, frowning as he, too, stepped down onto the platform behind James and Y/N.

“The Potters are giving me a lift,” Y/N denied immediately. “Have a good Christmas, Peter!” She gave Peter a brief hug that left him bright pink and embarrassed. “You too, Remus,” she said to the scarred taller boy, who was slightly more ready for her hug, but a light shade of pink dusted his cheeks.

“Have a good Christmas, Y/N!” The Hufflepuff was wrapped into a bone-crushing hug from Liane and half-laughed, half-groaned from it.

“You too!” She hugged Beatrice next before being pulled into a hug by Jessica, who was clearly embarrassed at having initiated it. “I’m gonna send you your present in a few days - is that alright? I’ll send Eric’s with it.”

“You didn’t need to get us anything,” Jessica told her, though she was beaming.

“We’re friends, Jess! It’s a thing!” Y/N teased and Beatrice threw her arm over the shorter girl’s shoulder, beaming down at Jess who seemed to shrink a little in her hold, a bashful smile on her face.

“But if that’s your way of saying that you didn’t get us anything it’s okay, we understand,” Beatrice teased.

“Of course I did!”

“Y/N!” 

It was Mr Potter again, laughter in his voice as he shouted for her.

“I gotta go - I’ll see you next term!” 

“See you!”

As Y/N rushed through the crowds of Hogwarts students on the platform towards the Potters, her trunk clasped in hand, a few other classmates called out to wish her a good Christmas. 

James stood by his parents, his eyebrows raised at her.

“Said goodbye to all your friends?”

“Just because you only have three.”

“Hello, dear,” Mrs Potter was quick to pull Y/N into a hug, Mr Potter tugging her trunk from her hands. 

“Hey Mrs Potter,” Y/N smiled before moving to give Mr Potter a quick side-hug. 

“Hurry up, Fleamont! I want to hear all about their first term!” Mrs Potter scolded, having already bustled away from the other three towards the barrier. 

“And you left me to deal with her alone for four months,” Mr Potter sighed with a teasing eye roll. 

On the drive home from the train station, James filled the silence with tales of his first term at Hogwarts, answering all the questions that his parents had about the current staffing and the courses, Y/N occasionally chipping in whenever James would forget to mention something. They had just moved onto the topic of their new friends when they pulled into the drive.

The Potters had a wonderful house. It was rather large, thanks to the wealth of their ancestors, and could be found in the countryside near Oxford. Sweeping fields surrounded it, a forrest lay at the end of their garden where, if they walked far enough, they would find a clearing large enough to play Quidditch in over the summer, Mr Potter having build a store-shed for their equipment.

In the summer, flowers bloomed all over the front yard - even more in the garden and the serenity of the Potter home caused it to be an attractive place for many creatures to take refuge. 

This had been one of Y/N’s favourite things about moving in with the Potters - the discovery of the many magical creatures of the wizarding world and being able to learn to care for them from an early age right in their backyard. 

“Y/N, dear,” Mrs Potter called before Y/N could follow James up the stairs and onto the first floor, where both of their bedrooms were situated.

“Yes?” She turned, taking in the concerned expressions on both of their faces.

“When James talks about this boy - Sirius…”

“Yeah?” Y/N frowned a little, unsure of exactly where this conversation was going.

“He doesn’t mean Sirius Black as in… as in the Black family, does he?” Mr Potter questioned.

“I mean… that’s his family name, if that’s what you’re asking me,” Y/N responded unsurely.

“Do you happen to know if Sirius is… is a pureblood?”

“He is,” Y/N confirmed and watched as Mr and Mrs Potter exchanged dark looks, as though their worst fears had just been confirmed. 

“Is he nice to you?”

“He’s really lovely, Mr Potter,” she assured the man. 

“He’s nothing like his family,” James’ voice was cold, having rejoined his family in the kitchen after dropping his possessions in his room. He was frowning at his parents, his arms crossed over his chest. “Sirius is great - his family sucks.”

“Yes, sweetheart - we know what his family are like, we’ve met them,” Mrs Potter said, her voice soothing, wanting to calm down her son. “That’s why were worried about-”

“He’s nothing like them,” James stated, leaving no room for argument. “He was told not to go home for Christmas because his parents needed time to come to terms with the fact that he wasn’t sorted into Slytherin and had associated himself with blood-traitors and mudbloods.”

“James - language.” Mr Potter snapped, looking worriedly at Y/N, who dropped her gaze to the floor.

“Mrs Black’s words, not mine,” James grumbled. “Sorry,” he added after a moment.

“He was told not to go home?” Mrs Potter asked and when Y/N looked at her, she looked utterly heartbroken.

“He’s not like them,” James repeated, sounding a little more defeated than before, his voice filled with emotion and sympathy for his new-found friend.

“That poor boy.”

James’ recount of Sirius’ reasons for remaining at Hogwarts over the holiday remained in Y/N’s mind the rest of the evening, through dinner when she was asked by the Potters about her own friends, about Hufflepuff common room (since neither had been sorted into Hufflepuff, it was new territory for them) and about how much she was enjoying the lessons. 

When she wandered up to her room, she was still pondering over Sirius, thinking about what he may be doing at that moment in the lonely castle. If his parents didn’t want him home for Christmas, what would the holiday be like for him? 

Sad - most likely. And lonely. Materialistically, Y/N wondered whether he would be receiving any presents - surely James, Remus and Peter would step up for their new friend, perhaps Frank would and besides the Gryffindor boys, Sirius was well-liked in general amongst their year.

Y/N changed into her pyjamas, climbing under the familiar covers of her childhood, debating the best present that she could get for Sirius.

[tinycrow]

Mama Fortuna

C-05: Trouble in Paradise

Note: This chapter just didn’t want to be written for some reason.

~*~

Though things hadn’t gone exactly to plan, they now had allies, resources, and a base of operations. The soldiers had honoured them with their bravery during the Mission City fiasco, and after the Decepticons were forced to retreat, Optimus Prime discussed with the appropriate human officials the importance of defence against the new threat.

Mission City remained a reminder to both humans and Autobots as to how important it was to unite against the Decepticon threat. NEST was born, and a new base was chosen.

Megatron’s body was buried in the ocean. The remaining shard was put under human protections after intense debate. It wasn’t ideal, but in the end, there wasn’t a better suggestion.

Guardians were chosen for the select humans that they had grown close to. Ironhide had gone with Major Lennox, and Bumblebee requested to stay with Sam Witwicky.

While Cybertronian life was a secret from most humans, there was hope that Earth could become a second home.

~*~

Oh my god.

I kneel next to the woman and put my index and ring finger to her throat to check for her pulse. Finding it, I then put my ear near her mouth to listen for breathing. She’s not breathing. I need to call for help.

What’s stopping me? I glance at the huge and lifeless metal body of an alien nearby. Being in a less populated part of town, there are no other witnesses, as far as I know. However, this woman needs help, and I cannot call for an ambulance or the police. It would call all sorts of attention, and none of it good.

There’s gotta be something I can do. I hover my shaking hands over the woman’s body. She’s organic. There is no way this is going to work. But I’m going to try anyway.

A quick flash lights the walls of the nearby buildings. In that brief moment, I can feel this woman’s spirit, such a kind and generous spirit, as my power moves through her body to fix the damage to her lungs. She’s changing. There was no other way about it. I feel regret for what I have done, but I remind myself that I have limited options.

The woman takes a gasping breath but doesn’t open her eyes. In relief, I then turn to my next problem. The alien.

What in the world am I going to do with this?

Hands still shaking, a grim expression forms on my face as I consider my options. If I heal him, he will just come after me and my family. If I don’t, someone will eventually notice the body and a different kind of attention will come here. I could bury him, maybe. It might be hard, considering how big he is.

I stare at the conjured metal spike that is piercing their metal heart. The alien had somehow noticed the presence of my children, even though they were in their alternative forms. As the alien posing as a car transformed into a large mech, I could only stare in panic.

I hadn’t noticed the woman close by until an unholy shriek pierced my eardrums. She was grabbed, and I could only imagine that her ribs were broken when she suddenly passed out. I made my move out of desperation in that moment, and the nearby concrete gave way to a metal spike that luckily took the mech out. The alien would’ve never expected a human to be able to do that. I was lucky they underestimated me.

Swaying in exhaustion, I wonder if I have the strength to bury my aggressor. Emboldening myself with grim determination, I stomp the ground once. Then twice.

It takes a few tries, but the mech is completely buried. Sort of. A piece of them is showing, but I don’t have the strength to do anymore. As long as no one looks closely, I’m sure it’ll be okay.

~*~

“Novatron is offline. Their last location was a small town in North America.”

A low growl and a curse in a foreign language fills the otherwise silent space.

“And?”

“Their course was altered to avoid an asteroid in their path, and they landed far from where we are. Their last transmission reported a strange energy signature and the appearance of small Cybertronians of unknown affiliation.”

“So, there were Mini-bots. Why is this of concern to us?”

“Novatron was convinced they were not Mini-bots. They sent us a voice sample they overheard.” A 5-second sample was played.

“Sunshine, I know you’re excited, but you need to be quiet.”

Chitter. Beep. Chirr. Young, barely restrained excitement.

Many voices started talking as soon as the sample finished. They knew what those sounds meant, and if it was true, they hadn’t been heard in millennia.

“You, go investigate. If possible, bring back the sparklings. Do not let the Autobots find out what we are doing.”

~*~

“Hey, wake up. Wake up. Please open your eyes.” I gently shake the woman. I can’t carry a full-grown woman by myself, and dragging might hurt her. So, I am insistent on waking her from her place on the concrete.

A groan escapes her lips and her eyelids flutter open. She jerks awake and away from me.

Seeing her about to scream, I hold up a finger to my mouth. “Please don’t scream!”

She freezes, looking around frantically and then locking her eyes on mine. “What- Who are you? Where is that—that thing? “

“I’ll answer those questions in a bit, but first you need to know that you are safe. I killed the one that attacked you.”

It takes a second for my words to register. Her eyes narrow in suspicion and disbelief. I certainly don’t look like much, and I am seemingly unarmed.

I interrupt her thought before she can start, “Yeah, I know how I look. Kinda hard to believe. It wasn’t easy... look, I know you have questions, but if you really want answers, you’re going to have to trust me enough to go someplace safe to talk. Or, you can go back home and pretend this never happened. The choice is yours.”

“I don’t even know you, and you want me to come with you. Who are you?”

I sigh. “You can call me Ray. Do you want answers, or do you want to walk away?”

She considers my question, before hesitantly nodding and replying, “I need to know what just happened, and what that thing was. Please.”

Her look is so desperate that I feel a surge of compassion for this poor woman. Her world is about to be rocked to its foundation. I smile genuinely sympathetic at her and stand up. I offer my hand, and she takes it after only a second of pause.

“I found this great restaurant in town. How about we get to know each other on our way there?”

~*~

A couple weeks later...

“Linda! Linda!”

Said woman sets down her shopping bags in time to be jumped by metal children. Seeing this happen from my station near the stove, I call out with a stern voice, “Sunshine! Ellie! What have I said about jumping on humans?”

“-not to,” the two say simultaneously.

“Get down.”

Without much of a fuss, they obey. It hasn’t been the first time I’ve had to remind them.

Linda spares a lopsided smile for them as she turns to me to say, “Aw, it’s not so bad. It’s kind of cute... No need to be so serious, Ray.” She turns to her bags, waving the children away and rustling through them.

“It won’t be so cute when they get bigger.”

The woman looking through her shopping bags freezes for a second, and I side-eye her. She has been taking all of this remarkably well, but I know that she still has moments of terror when she remembers or dreams about the alien that she saw on the day we met.

“They have a couple ‘frames’ to go through before they reach their full size. Sunshine will be pretty small still, though Ellie may be the size of a human one day.”

No response from her. I continue speaking as if nothing is wrong, “They love you, you know.” They would never hurt you, I try to say between the lines. “I think knowing a human other than me is helping socialize them. I’ve seen them copying our mannerisms sometimes. It’s really cute.”

Some colour comes back into Linda’s cheeks. I smile encouragingly at her, and she gives a small smile back.

I joke, “So, what dost thou bring from yonder town?”

“I picked up that milk you texted me about. I bought some cereal—don’t look at me like that, you need to eat something in the morning. It’s the most important meal of the day!”

I restrain myself from whining and simply pout. My soup seems to be done heating and I lift it off the stove to pour into a bowl on the kitchen table. I look up to see Linda taking some metal scraps out of her bag.

“Woah, what’s that you got there?”

“Some junk we were going to throw away. I thought you’d appreciate it. Don’t let anyone know I gave it to you, though.”

“Is that all of it?”

“There’s more in my truck. I didn’t want to take too much or it would be suspicious.”

I whistle lowly. Just by this alone, I can tell that trusting this kind woman was a good call. I remember how scared she was when we talked in the restaurant, and how much I wanted to hide my babies from her. Fear has always been a motivator for terrible acts in human history... not that I remember where I’ve learnt that, considering my circumstance. It makes an interesting read now, however.

“How far along is the construction?” I ask her, taking a spoonful of soup and noisily slurping hot liquid.

We talk for a few minutes about her work in construction before we hit a lull in the conversation.

“Ray...” She says, catching my attention. I look at her inquiringly, but she doesn’t continue.

So, I prompt her, “Yes?”

“... I’ve been thinking.”

Now I’m wary. For the short time that I’ve known her, I’ve known she was kind and generous, but sometimes... there’s a flash of stubbornness, of determination to succeed in whatever she sets her mind to. I start having a feeling that whatever it is, I won’t be able to talk her out of it.

“You know, I’ve always wanted to start my own company. I just didn’t have the money or means to.”

My stomach churns with anxiety, and I get an inkling as to where this is going. The problem is, should I let it get there? We haven’t known each other for very long, despite how it feels like we’ve known each other for forever. After a tense moment, I make a decision. I would stand my ground, but I wouldn’t shoot her idea down until I hear her out.

“I see, and now?” I ask.

~*~

I’ve been getting random surges of anxiety when I’m out in town. I really can’t say where the feeling is stemming from, but considering the attack a couple weeks ago, I’m guessing it’s not good.

Both Linda and I decide it’s time to move, and boy is it an expensive one. I pay my renter for the current and next month I promised I’d be living in the farmhouse for, which would have brought my savings down if I didn’t sell the minerals I was creating in my spare time. With Linda’s guidance and help, we set up what would be the foundations of our ‘family company’, “Davis and Weber Co.”. Beside Linda and I, her brother and father are the only ones brought in on our secret. The humble farmhouse becomes a truck stop as, beside the Ford pickup Linda owns, both males bring a couple moving trucks to help me move my limited furniture, the ‘coffee machine’, and the materials I’ve been collecting with Linda’s help. The pickup trucks were one of the first purchases by the company.

I’m not sure what Linda told her boss, but she is free from her former job. She has been handling permits, selling, and purchases for our new company since then, though I know she had help from her father with that.

As for me, I’ve been getting better at creating small gadgets with aid from my powers and increasingly conscious knowledge, though nothing alive yet. A simple but secure communication device was one of the most recent, and we decided to test them on the road to the new warehouse we bought a few days’ journey from our current location. It looks like a standard earpiece with a mic, but has a barely noticeable black square—a fingerprint reader that works as a locking mechanism and an on-off button. The devices send data on an encrypted channel that is not usual for its kind. The hardest part was getting the fingerprint reader to work.

“Testing, one, two...”

“I hear you, James. Linda?”

“I hear you and dad. Oli?”

“Mama, Ellie is being mean,” we all hear on the com, and I resist the urge to face-palm.

“I’m here. I hear dad, sis, and Ray.”

“Mama! Sunshine hit me!”

“No, I didn’t!”

When I hear scuffling in one of the trucks, I walk up to it and move the mic away from my mouth as I bang the side of the truck. “Hey! Break it up! Don’t make me go in there!” The fighting stops, and I walk back to Linda’s pickup truck, moving the mic back to my mouth. “It’s a long ride, and I don’t want any unwanted attention on us, okay? There’s a lot of dangerous people out there.”

Everyone shifts uncomfortably at my statement. Linda’s brother and father both were told how Linda and I met, and it was accepted that aside from greedy humans wanting me and my babies for crazy new tech, hostile aliens might also.

“Sunshine, Ellie, do you understand?”

My voice isn’t loud, but they can tell I’m serious. I get a couple of quiet assents. I nod to myself and hop into the passenger side as Linda gets into the driver’s seat.

“Alright, let’s roll.”

~*~

We’re about a day into the journey when we see some suspicious activity around our small fleet of trucks. I turn around to look at the car tailing us, it’s an expensive car... and the only car for miles.

“It’s stalking us. It knows.”

“Just... keep cool,” I say lamely, even as I feel my body tense, “It could be coincidence that they’re on the road with us.”

“Guys, I see more super cars,” Oliver warns.

The car immediately tailing us changes into the oncoming lane and speeds up to just in front of us. It’s done so quickly that we don’t have much time to react. I barely have time to notice the car has no driver when it turns back into our lane, effectively blocking us in with the other car quickly coming up behind us.

“Linda, that’s—“ I start, but she cuts me off.

“—I know!”

The car in front of us stands up, and if it wasn’t for the fact that we were surrounded by empty farmland, we would’ve crashed trying to avoid it. Swears fill the com. I fear for my life as Linda’s truck swerves over a ditch and barbed fence, coasting into an empty field. The other two trucks stop hurriedly, Oliver’s truck barely slamming into the back of James’.

I jump out of Linda’s truck and sprint toward the truck with my babies.

“Everyone quiet on the com and if you can, run! Babies, stay there. Remember, it’s just like we practiced.”

Silence. I’m glad for it as I see the metal giant get a grip on the truck in front of them. I see the form of Linda’s dad (James) curling forward and down to avoid the shattering windshield glass. My legs and lungs burn as I try to get there as fast as I can. I can hear Linda’s voice behind me telling me to wait, but I simply cannot do that.

There are no pipes underground or metal around me to use, so I’m not sure what I can do to stop this one. If only I was stronger, more experienced... My eyes water as I reach desperately inward to that power that has been slowly growing. I reach my hand out to James’ truck. Please, save them.

A spark lights my fingers briefly, before an unseen wave of something knocks the air out of everyone. It even makes the giant stop. Then, they look at me.

Oh, shit. I dig my heels in and change direction. Linda shouts in alarm behind me and I grab her as I run back to her truck.

“Change of plan, Lin, we’re going to run.” I cup my hand around the mic and whisper harshly, “We’ll see if we can lead them away. Head to the warehouse.”

“What?” Linda asks fearfully, but I pat her shoulders and look her straight in the eye.

“No time for debate, Lin. Let’s go!”

[toosicktoocare]

prompt:  Hi! I just read your 9-1-1 fic and it was fantastic. I was wondering if you'd be interested in writing a fic where Buck (being the absolute disaster that he is) cuts himself on something while he's on blood thinners and doesn't realize he's bleeding until he gives Eddie an absolute heart attack when Eddie sees him, like covered in blood, casually doing something.

Established Buddie :)

Adrenaline is Buck’s drug, and he chases the pushing sensation with narrow, hungry eyes. He’s racing up a ladder to save an expecting mother from a house fire, hands and feet moving in perfect sync, leaving no room for error. Even in the dark, with only a flashlight and the street light below, he’s moving effortlessly, and he doesn’t blink, doesn’t even hesitate when he reaches the window.

He orders the woman to stand back, and the second she’s out of his line of sight, he slams his elbow into the glass, two, three times until the window spiderwebs against the force. One more hit, and the window shatters. He knocks jutting shards of glass free, not even feeling the small scrape that sneaks past the sleeve of his jacket, and then he’s hopping into the room.

Smoke is billowing from below the closed door, coating the room in a grayish, dark haze, and he gestures to the woman who’s speaking rapid, panicked Spanish.

“Uh,” he drags out, glancing from the woman to the window. “Es...” He tilts his head, jerking his brain through the brief Spanish lessons Eddie’s been giving him, “escapamos?”

The woman jerks her head into a tight nod and starts to the window, and Buck’s close behind her, raking through his incredibly small Spanish vocabulary. He can’t think of the proper way to tell the woman to take it slow and steady, so he radios Eddie, and he can practically hear the eye roll.

“ Señora,” Eddie starts, grabbing the woman’s attention, “tenga mucho cuidado cuando baje.”

The woman nods and slows her pace as she carefully starts out the window. Buck follows, watching her climb down a few rungs. “What did you say to her?” he asks Eddie through the radio, and Eddie scoffs, voice crackling through the radio slightly.

“Something you should already know from our lessons.”

“Oh, sorry,” Buck draws out, sarcasm mixing in his tone. “It’s a little hard to remember this shit when you’re out saving lives.” He starts on the ladder, fingers easily gripping the sides.

“I told you to let me get her.”

“Fuck off,” Buck mutters under his breath, a hint of a smile playing at his lips. He spares another glance below to see Eddie and Hen helping the woman off the ladder, and a brief bout of relief swells in his chest as he easily makes his way down, bypassing the last few runs with a small jump.

A loud crack of thunder over head has him pulling a quick gaze toward the dark sky just as it splits open, bringing sheets and sheets of rain. It’s helping with the fire, but he still needs to work, and when Bobby shouts “let’s wrap this up,” he moves back to the truck to help put out the remaining flames while Eddie, Hen, and Chimney tend to the woman.

Buck’s focused on the hose, on the strategic aim of the water, when Eddie comes up to him, shouting over the wall of rain.

“She wants me to ride with them to the hospital!”

Buck spares a brief gaze to Eddie, and Eddie takes his moment, leaning forward to plant quick kiss to Buck’s lips, their helmets knocking together.

“I’ll meet you back at the station!” 

Buck nods, smiling at the faint tingle clinging to his lips, and he struggles to rip his gaze away from Eddie racing to the back of the ambulance.

“Focus, Buck.”

Bobby’s voice, suddenly a hot breath at his ear, as him whipping his gaze back to the lingering flames, and together, they douse the remaining fire within minutes.

When they make it back to the truck, both thoroughly drenched through, Buck sighs, ripping his helmet off and running a hand through his dripping hair.

“I’m glad it rained, but a little warning would have been nice.”

“If you had spent a little more time looking at the TV instead of Eddie’s ass, you would have seen the weather report that predicted this storm--”

“--I wasn’t staring at his ass!” Buck’s voice is defensive, yet heat creeps up his neck to his cheeks until they’re glowing red.

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that,” Bobby says around a hearty laugh that Buck scoffs at, slumping in his seat and crossing his arms as Bobby pulls away from the scene and heads back to the station.

Bobby and Buck make it back first, and Bobby waves a tired hand to Buck as he starts up the steps. “Go shower. You stink.”

If exhaustion wasn’t pushing down on Buck’s shoulders, he would spit out a sharp retort, but it’s been a long day for all of them, more calls than usual, so he shuffles to the showers, shedding his clothes with half-lidded eyes.

The warm water is heavenly against his skin, and he tilts his his head up, eyes fluttering closed as the heated spray pours over him, washing away the dirt and grime built up from an incredibly long day. He’s quick with the soap, not really paying attention for his mind is focused on being in bed with Eddie, and he wraps a towel around his hips when he’s finished, stepping out of the shower with a slight shiver.

He bypasses the mirrors and steps into the locker room, his left hand keeping the towel clasped at his hips while his right hand digs around his bag for his clothes.

Faintly, he can hear the others return, and shortly after, he can just make out Bobby telling Eddie where he is. Smiling, he turns to the door just as Eddie pulls it open, but the matching smile Eddie’s sporting drops in the blink of an eye, curling into a deep frown that plays off the concern etched across his paling face.

“Eddie, what’s wrong?” Buck asks, but Eddie’s eyes are cast downward, and Buck slowly follows his gaze until he, too, pales at the sudden sight of blood pouring from a small cut on his arm, drenching his towel in a sea of red and pooling at the floor just by his feet.

“Shit.”

Eddie’s at his side in seconds, breathing fast, heart hammering against his rib cage, and he reaches in Buck’s bag for a loose shirt, pressing it to the wound. Buck winces slightly, but he’s more focused on Eddie’s heaving chest.

“How long have you been bleeding?” Eddie asks quickly, words spilling from his tongue. He leaves Buck’s side, following the trail of blood all the way to the shower where the remaining puddle of water on the shower floor is painted a faint red. He makes his way back to see Buck drop down heavily onto a bench, frowning at the white shirt that’s quickly fading to a pinkish red.

“How did you not notice?” Eddie presses, taking quick note of Buck’s normally healthy skin taking to a pale tone. “Even in the shower?”

“I don’t know,” Buck admits. “I think I was half-asleep in the shower--”

“--Jesus Christ,” Eddie spits out, though worry takes center hold of his tone. “I’m going to get some bandages from the ambulance, so keep applying pressure to that.”

Buck’s eyes follow Eddie’s almost erratic movements until he’s out of sight, and only then does he allow his shoulders to slump. He’s beginning to grow dizzy, and a little cold, but then Eddie’s busting back into the room, and he can see the others hovering at the door.

“I told them you’re naked,” Eddie says, crouching down in front of Buck. He carefully moves the shirt away, frown deepening at the amount of blood gushing from a cut that’s not even that big or that deep for that matter.

“These fucking blood thinners are going to be the death of me,” Eddie mutters under his breath as he starts wrapping the bandage around Buck’s arm.

“I’m pretty sure they’ll actually be the death of me,” Buck tries for a light joke, but the sharp, almost desperate gaze Eddie shoots him has Buck dropping his small smile, eyes cast in concern.

“Hey, Eddie, I was kidding, okay? I’ll be fine. I must have cut my arm when I broke the window earlier.”

Eddie’s muscles tense with each of Buck’s words. Buck takes quiet note of the rigid motions, cupping his free hand to Eddie’s chin to pull Eddie’s gaze up to his. “You know I’m going to be fine, right?”

Eddie only offers a curt nod, not trusting his voice to work in sync with his racing heart, and Buck sighs, frown matching Eddie’s.

“Then breathe, Eddie. I’m pretty sure you haven’t taken in a solid breath since you walked in.”

Eddie’s exhale is deep, shaking. “You’d be the same way if you saw what I saw.” He keeps his voice quiet, moving away from Buck’s hand to turn his gaze back to Buck’s arm. Already, blood is pressing against the bandage, but he keeps working it around Buck’s arm, just until he can get Buck to the hospital.

Buck’s not sure that any reply will ease Eddie’s tense fear, so he opts to remain quiet, allowing Eddie to finish bandaging his arm, to help him into underwear, jeans, and his jacket, his shirt bunched up in a bloody pile on the floor, and to help him to the truck for the quick drive to the hospital.

Buck offers his doctor a sheepish grin when the two walk into the hospital, and his doctor is quick to scold him for the unnecessary risks he keeps taking. He’s taken into a back room for an hour, and Eddie remains tense and quiet at his side, working through his emotions slowly while Buck gets stitched up.

By the time they make it back to Eddie’s place, Buck is thoroughly exhausted, and Eddie looks every bit uncomfortable still in his damp, dirty clothes from work.

“Christopher?” Buck asks, eyeing the empty bedroom as Eddie begins shedding his clothes.

“Staying at abuela’s tonight.” Eddie’s voice is a little clipped, tired, but there’s a faint, muted heat that’s got Buck frowning.

“How long are you going to be mad at me?” He asks, following Eddie into his bedroom.

“I’m not mad,” Eddie grumbles, flopping onto his bed in only his boxers, his hair a mess from the rain and stress-induced pulling.

Buck slips his boots and jeans off before shrugging off his jacket. “That’s exactly what someone who’s mad would say.” He drops onto the bed beside Eddie, head rolling to the side to meet Eddie’s tired, drawn gaze.

“Seeing you literally bleeding out is fucking scary, okay? I thought I was going to have a heart attack.”

Buck reaches out, resting one hand to Eddie’s chest to feel the steady thump of Eddie’s heart. He considers his next words, digging through his tired brain. “Lo... lo siento.”

“ Lo sé, por favor deja de asustarme así,” Eddie’s voice is barely above a whisper, mirroring the emotional toll that’s the night’s event have taken on his body, but he manages a hint of a smile, a breath of a laugh, at the clear confusion taking over Buck’s face.

“Uh, yeah, what you said.”

[crazycat-88]

Male Naga Kasen x Female Reader (NSFW)

Here’s a story about a shy male naga and a female reader who’s scared of rejection. No connections to my other stories though it is set in a modern setting, in a world where humans know that monsters & cryptids exist.

Content: Brief mention of guns, blood & injury (not to reader). NSFW at the end.

Words: 4,214. Enjoy!

Everyone in the village would agree that you had the best garden around for miles. With its winding brick paths, wooden arches, stone benches, a pond full of koi fish and a wide variety of flowers and plants at every turn, it was a garden lovers paradise. It was also your pride and joy, you could and did spend many hours of your day in it, either tending to the plants or just sitting enjoying the sun and smells of the plants.

You couldn’t take all the credit for it though, it had been your grandparents before yours and they had designed and made it the garden it is today. You had inherited the house after their passing six months previously, but you were proud you had kept up with the maintenance of the garden ever since.

Now with winter coming, you had the painstaking task of moving all the smaller plants into the greenhouse and covering the rest at night to protect from frost. It was already freezing cold in the mornings and at night, and since you hated the cold, you were dreading the next few months. You wouldn’t be able to enjoy sitting out in the garden but you would make sure to keep your garden safe during the winter months.

One morning as you are kneeling by the pond, checking that the fish are doing well in the cold, you jump hearing the sound of a shotgun being fired. Head swinging wildly in the direction of next doors garden, you wonder what poor creature old man McGregor has in his sights this time. Shaking your head, you cautiously make your way to the boundary between your garden and his, cringing again when you see the poor state of it.

Mr. McGregor's sorry state of a garden was the bane of your existence. The grass was overgrown and had taken up the entirety of the garden. The stone paths and pond you remember seeing during your visits as a child long gone, Iost to the wilderness that had become McGregor's garden. When you’d first seen it you had wondered if the old man was just now incapable of tending to it and you had gone round there offering your assistance.

Unfortunately you had found Mr. McGregor to be as prickly as the cacti in your greenhouse and he had told you that the day he accepted your help would be the same day that hell freezes over, before telling you to get the hell off his property or he’d shoot you for trespassing. You hadn’t spoken to him since but you had seen him a few times out in his garden with his shotgun, shooting into the grass, yelling about foxes and rabbits not being welcome on his property.

You can hear him now, muttering something about snakes in the grass and you shake your head again with a sigh. The only snakes in these parts were completely harmless and all would be hibernating at this time of year. You’re pretty sure Mr. McGregor is insane and he was going to end up hurting somebody one day, or himself.  

‘‘Mr McGregor,’’ you call, flinching as he turns towards you with a scowl. ‘‘Is everything okay?’’

‘‘Mind your own business lassie,’’ he says, before turning back to glare at the grass.  

You watch for a moment, frowning and biting your lip to keep from saying anything else, before going back to tend to your garden. You keep one eye on McGregor while you do this and once he turns and goes back into the house, you make your way back over to the fence to peer into the long grass. Was the old man imagining things or was there really something in there. You didn’t know but you stood there waiting for any signs of life regardless.

Just as you turn away breathing a sigh of relief you swear you can hear something. Head swiveling back to look at the grass, you hold your breath listening for the sound again. Frowning when you hear a small whimper, you climb up the first rung of the fence and try to get a better look in the grass. When you hear it again, you frown in confusion. That doesn’t sound like any animal you’ve ever heard, in fact the whimpers sound human.

‘‘Hello,’’ you call tentatively. A couple of heartbeats pass before the noise comes again, this time accompanied by a rustle in the grass only five foot from your position. ‘‘Who’s there?’’ You ask warily. You can hear the tremor in your voice and you glance down at McGregor's house nervously thinking that his shotgun may come in handy right about now.

Looking back to the grass you jump in shock, falling back off the fence and landing on your ass with a thud when you see a pair of strangely human looking yellow eyes staring back at you. Scrambling to stand you see the eyes along with a pale forehead and a shock of black hair staring back at you.

‘‘W-who.. W-what... Why are you in the grass?’’ You stutter, your voice trembling far more than you would like.

‘‘Hiding.’’ A definitely male voice replies whispering.

‘‘Hiding from what?’’ You say frowning.

‘‘The old man,’’ he replies with a wary glance towards the house.

‘‘Why are you in there in the first place?’’

‘‘I was looking for food.’’

Food? Is he homeless you think startled. ‘‘Well you better get out of there before Mr. McGregor comes back,’’ you say warning him.

‘‘I…’’ he says, before ducking down out of sight. ‘‘I don’t want to ssscare you, I… I’m not exactly human.’’

Oh. Well that explains a few things. There aren’t many non-humans living in your village but there were a few, so you weren’t completely unused to being around such creatures. You wonder what type he is before telling him that it’s okay to come out and that you aren’t scared.

‘‘You’ll have to climb over the fence but be quick, we don’t want McGregor seeing you,’’ you say.

‘‘Okay. Okay I’m coming,’’ he says.

You see the long grass sway as he moves towards you and as he appears at the fence you gasp, automatically taking a step back when you see he’s a naga. Naga are never seen in the village, they tend to stick to the woods and away from humans. Though they do have a bad reputation for being aggressive towards humans when they do encounter them.

You watch him warily as he easily climbs the fence and as he settles down on his tail in your garden, tail coiling around himself, you have to admit he doesn’t seem very threatening. As he stands before you, wringing his hands together with a nervous smile on his face, you see that he looks more scared of you than you are of him.

He’s smaller than you imagined a naga would be, or perhaps he just seems that way because his tail is coiled. His eyes are indeed yellow and his black hair is long, reaching all the way down to his hips where his naked human torso meets his snake tail. The pale skin of his human half and the dark green of his snake half make a striking contrast, but his body is filthy with mud and his hair is tangled. He’s thin too, definitely underweight you think with a frown as you run your gaze over him. As you catch sight of streak of blood across the underbelly of his tail you gasp and take a step towards him, stopping when he jerks in fright.

‘‘You’re hurt,’’ you say, remembering his whimpers from before.

‘‘J-just a graze,’’ he replies, glancing down at his tail.

‘‘Still, you should come in to the house and let me clean it,’’ you say, worried it will get infected if left untreated.

‘‘Really? You would let me in your home?’’ He asks, with a look of surprise.

‘‘Is there a reason I shouldn’t,’’ you ask him warily, but still gesturing for him to follow you as you make your way down the path towards your house.

‘‘No but… Aren’t you ssscared of me,’’ he asks sounding confused as he follows quietly behind you.

‘‘Should I be?’’ You ask, glancing at him. You see his eyes widen and he shakes his head revealing pointy ears hiding behind his hair.

‘‘N-no of course not,’’ he says as you reach your back door. Then he sighs. ‘‘It’s just most humans are ssscared of my kind.’’

‘‘I admit I was... wary at first,’’ you say glancing at him as you enter the house, ‘‘but I know you should never judge a book by its cover. You just seem like you need my help more than anything.’’

‘‘Thank you,’’ he says smiling, before glancing around your kitchen in interest. ‘‘You’re very kind.’’

‘‘I try. Now, wait here while I go get the first aid kit.’’

You see him nodding absently as you leave to get it, but he seems more interested in the contents of your kitchen. Upon returning you find him investigating the contents of your fruit bowl, picking up the fruit, when he sees you he jumps guiltily before putting the orange he’s picked up back. You just smile at him and tip the contents of the first aid kit over the kitchen table, before getting a bowl of water.

‘‘Do you have a name?’’ You ask him, as you set about cleaning the wound.

‘‘Kasen,’’ he says, holding still and watching what you’re doing.

‘‘Where do you live?’’ You ask him curiously, as you rinse the cloth in the water. He hisses as you clean the wound, but you’re are relieved to see he was right about it just being a graze. You won’t even need to bandage it. You look up at him curiously when he doesn’t answer, only to see him looking out your window with a frown. ‘‘Kasen, you okay?’’

He nods, then looks at you. ‘‘I lived in the woods,’’ he sighs, before looking down. ‘‘But another Naga challenged me for the territory and I lost.’’

‘‘Oh. Is that why you were near the houses?’’

‘‘Yesss. I’ve been living on the edge of the woods looking for a new territory but food has been ssscarce now it’s winter.’’

‘‘Don’t nagas hibernate?’’ You ask him curiously, as you pack everything back in the first aid kit, leaving just an antiseptic wipe out.

‘‘We tend to stay in our nests as we don’t like the cold but no we don’t hibernate,’’ he explains shaking his head.

‘‘Oh. I didn’t know that,’’ you say sitting back thinking. ‘‘I still need to clean your wound with an antiseptic wipe but I think you should shower first.’’

‘‘Shower?’’ He asks frowning.

‘‘Yeah you know, to bathe.’’ You say explaining.

‘‘Oh,’’ he says, looking down at himself.

‘‘Come on,’’ you say smiling, leading him to your bathroom. Kasen looks confused and then startled when you turn the water on and you patiently turn it on and off for him to show him how it works. When he nods understanding, you go get him a towel for when he’s done.

‘‘Take your time. I’ll go make us some lunch,’’ you say leaving him to it.

Thinking that he must be cold in this weather with no clothes, you go search for an old jumper and with that accomplished, you head to the kitchen. As you potter around in the kitchen, you wonder what he would like to eat. He looks so starved he’d probably eat anything you think, but prepare a variety of things hoping he will at least like the food you give him. As you cook you come to the decision to ask Kasen to stay with you, at least for the winter. It may be idiotic to ask a naga you’ve only just met to live with you but you can’t throw him out into the cold with nowhere to go.

With the food ready on the table and no sign of Kasen, you are just about to check on him, when he suddenly appears at the kitchen door. As he stands there running his claws through his hair trying to detangle it and you have to stop your jaw from dropping. He’s gorgeous you think, with his long wet hair dripping down his lean chest and his now clean tail almost shining and catching the light as it twitches. When his long forked tongue flicks out to taste the air you give yourself a mental slap for thinking very inappropriate thoughts.

Getting up from where you’ve sat at the kitchen table, you grab the old jumper you found that once belonged to your grandfather and hand it to him. ‘‘Here, hopefully this will keep you warm,’’ you say smiling and hoping he doesn’t notice your blush.  He looks at the jumper for a moment before gently taking it from you with a soft thank you and puts it on. The jumper is far to big for him, your grandfather being bigger built but it will do for now.

‘‘Hold still while I wipe your wound and then you can join me and eat as much as you like,’’ you say.

His eyes flick to yours in surprise, meeting them briefly before he eyes the food. He holds still though as you run the wipe over the graze, only releasing a small hiss when it first touches the scales on his tail. When your done, he can’t get to the table fast enough, and you release a small chuckle while you bin the wipe and wash your hands.

As you eat, he asks about you and what you do. You tell him about your grandparents passing and about the garden, with all it’s different plants. Then you mention that you have a spare room and ask if he would like to stay with you for the winter. He looks at you in shock and asks if you're sure, but after some persuasion he agrees to spend the winter with you.

The winter months pass slowly but you enjoy them with Kasen there to keep you company. You spend the days getting to know each other better and you teach him card games that you play in the evenings. You still go out to the garden to care for the plants, but Kasen stays in the house really not liking the cold. You have to keep the heating on in the house otherwise Kasen gets sluggish and sleepy but it’s nice for you to return to after being out in the garden.

A couple of days before Christmas, you come to the realisation that you don’t ever want Kasen to leave. You’ve really come to like him, may even love him, in the time he’s been with you. It’s the little things he does, like making you a cup of something warm for when you return from the garden and how he lets you recline on his tail when you both sit reading by the fire.

The question is, should you do something about it. Kasen hasn’t let on if he feels anything for you, he’s still as shy as the day he came to live with you. He has however put weight on and looks much healthier. It’s all you can do not to jump him in the evenings when you cuddle into him by the fire. Unsure of his feelings however and not wanting to be rejected you put your thoughts and feelings aside and try to carry on as normal.

As winter turns into spring, Kasen starts to come out with you into the garden, to help. You’re on edge the entire time expecting him to tell you that he will be leaving any day now. For some reason you can’t bring yourself to tell him how you feel and that you want him to stay. Instead you start to withdraw, speaking to him less, preparing yourself for the day he leaves. So it doesn’t come as a surprise when he notices the change.

As you sit on the couch reading one evening, you can feel Kasens eyes on you as he lies curled up by the fire. You can practically feel the tension in the air and you can’t concentrate on your book at all. Getting up with the intention of heading to the kitchen to avoid his stare, you’re suddenly startled to find yourself pulled down to Kasens side as he uses his tail to bring you down to him.

‘‘Kasen. What are doing?’’ You ask shocked.

‘‘Trying to get your attention,’’ he says explaining.  ‘‘You have been ignoring me for daysss… Now tell me what isss wrong?’’

‘‘Nothings wrong. I’m fine,’’ you say frowning. Even to your ears you sound unconvincing and as you try to get up he coils his tail harder around your waist, refusing to let you up. ‘‘Kasen,’’ you say warningly.

‘‘You can get up once you’ve told me what’s the matter with you,’’ he says, sounding determined.

You’re actually surprised with how forceful he’s being, used to him being so shy. You didn’t think he had it in him but still you’re stubborn. ‘‘I told you it’s nothing.’’

‘‘And I don’t believe you,’’ he says hissing.

You look at him shocked before you burst into tears. You want to tell him you love him and want him to stay but you’re scared he’ll leave if you do, but if you don’t tell him he might leave anyway. It’s all too much and you cling to him as you cry. His arms go around your waist and he rocks you back and forth and you hear him muttering apologies.

‘‘I’m sorry,’’ you gasp, as you get your emotions under control.

‘‘No I’m sssorry, I didn’t mean to make you cry,’’ he says, stroking your hair back of your face. ‘‘I just wanted to know what’s wrong. You’ve been so distant the last few days,’’ he adds, looking dejected.

‘‘I… I don’t want you to leave,’’ you say lowly, looking down at your hands, not wanting to see the expression on his face.

‘‘Leave? Why would I leave?’’ He asks, frowning in confusion.

‘‘You only agreed to stay with me for the winter,’’ you say explaining.

‘‘Oh… That was months ago,’’ he says shaking his head. ‘‘I don’t want to leave you either.’’

‘‘You don’t?’’ You ask, looking at him with hope.

‘‘No,’’ he says smiling. ‘‘I love you,’’ he adds, before brushing his lips shyly across your own.

You kiss him back eagerly, before pulling back. ‘‘I love you too,’’ you say smiling widely.

Noticing the blush that’s overtaken his face, you giggle and kiss him again, running your tongue over his fangs. He pulls back with a gasp, before kissing his way down your neck and over your collarbone causing you to moan. His hands tighten on your back and he pulls back to look at you.

‘‘I want you,’’ he says, hissing lowly.

You nod, kissing his lips again. ‘‘I want you too,’’ you say as you run your hands over his scales where they meet his torso. He gasps, his tail tightening around you briefly.

‘‘Bedroom?’’ He asks.

‘‘No,’’ you say shaking your head. ‘‘Here by the fire.’’ You can’t believe he returns your feelings and desires and you’re unwilling to wait even one more minute to be with him.

Kasen smiles slowly before he guides you back to recline against his tail, where he proceeds to strip you off your clothes. You sit up to tug his jumper off over his head, then lay back again to admire his lean form. Seeing a slit at the top of his tail which looks swollen, you run your hand over it curiously and he gasps writhing before he takes your hand and places by your side.  

‘‘I want to explore you first my love,’’ he says, running his hands over your arms.

You’re content to lie back allowing him to explore for now, knowing you will soon get your turn and you moan as he leans over you to kiss over your chest and nipples. His long forked tongue flicks over one nipple before he takes it in his mouth and sucks, playing with your other breast with with one hand as his other holds you waist. You tangle your hands in his hair holding him to you and closing your eyes to enjoy his attention on your breasts.

Feeling his tail shift under you, you wonder what he’s doing until you feel his tail wrap around your waist, lifting you higher, which puts your slit level with his face. Your eyes pop open to see him staring and you shift self consciously.

‘‘Don’t stare,’’ you say, moving your hand to cover yourself but he quickly catches your wrist and prevents you from doing so.

‘‘I can't help it…’’ he says with his tongue flicking out. ‘‘You’re so beautiful.’’

Before you can respond to that he leans forward and flicks his tongue down your slit causing you to jerk and gasp. He runs his tongue over and over your clit before working it inside you, licking around and over your inner walls. You moan and writhe, struggling against his hold as he brings you close to coming with just a few strokes of his tongue.

Suddenly he twists his body to lay back on the rug on the floor and holds you above his head continuing to fuck you with his tongue. As one clawed hand digs into your thighs, he shifts the other to rub over your clit, pushing you over the edge and making you come with a squeal.

You would collapse if not for his tail, as it is you feel completely boneless as he lowers you to lie beside him, where you lay gasping for breath for what feels like forever. You come round as you feel him lay kisses over your belly, working his way up to your neck and then to your lips.

‘‘Still with me?’’ He asks.

‘‘Mmm just about,’’ you reply, opening your eyes to see him raised above you with a shy smile on his face.

Kissing him again, your trail your hands down his chest and pull away to gaze down his body. Your jaw drops open as you see he has two cocks where you expected to see just one. Looking up at him in shock, you are not surprised to see him flushing profusely, not meeting your gaze. With a sly smirk you run your fingertips over his upper cock, biting your lip to keep from chuckling as he gasps and jerks, his cocks hitting against your thigh.

You explore him eagerly, testing the weight and girth of both cocks in your hands. Both cocks are a light green colour which fades to a darker green at the base, just a shade lighter than his tail. The upper cock is thick, with ridges and a sharp tip. It curves upwards attractively, angled just right. While his lower cock is longer but thinner, with a wide flat tip.

Together they are far to thick for you to take both at once, at least not without some major prep and you wonder if he will mind, but as you listen to him moan and whimper as you grip him in your hands you figure at this point he probably won’t even notice. Pushing him to lie back on the floor you hover over him, rolling your hips so that the tips of both cocks rub against your slit.

‘‘Please... Oh please,’’ he begs with his eyes clenched shut.

‘‘Kasen..,’’ you say, lining up his upper cock against your opening and taking just the tip of it inside. ‘‘Kasen look at me.’’

You wait until he meets your eyes before lowering yourself all the way down his cock with a triumphant smile. Kasen throws his head back with a groan and clutches at your hips with his claws. He feels glorious inside, you can feel the ridges of his cock and his girth stretches your walls as you roll your hips up and down. The lower cock presses up against the cheeks of your ass as you slide over it and it occurs to you that you could take both cocks in different way.

You’ll have to remember that for next time you think as you realise that Kasen won’t last much longer. He ruts up into you hissing in pleasure as he increases the pace, using his tail to move you faster. Reaching down you rub your clit wanting to reach that peak again with him and as you clench your muscles around his cock he comes with a gasp of your name.

As you feel the heat of his come inside you and up your back from his other cocks release, it pushes you over the edge and your vision goes blurry as you cry out coming around his cock causing him to gasp and twitch inside you.

‘‘I love you,’’ he says with a rasping chuckle as you collapse on top of him.

‘‘Mmm I love you too,’’ you say, smiling lazily as he strokes the back of your neck.

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