#Spoke to a patient in French once and when she asked something that I could infer but not reply in French

[skyloftian-nutcase]

You can talk in French ? As a french I was thinking that there are not a lot of people who seem interested by french language !

(Not obligated to respond)

Certainly not as well as I used to, mais oui :) français est une langue belle ❤️ mais je parle un petit peau. I studied it for 2ish years and was the interpreter for my family when we took a pilgrimage to France. My issue when I was in France was that I sounded so convincing the natives just babbled away and I was like 🙃😶🥲 That and I kept trying to switch to Spanish for literally no reason lol. I definitely walked up to one Frenchman and said “Bonjour, je suis une américaine estupide, parlez-vous anglais?” because I desperately needed directions to the correct train station and had messed it up when I tried in French lol

[shoot-the-oneshot]

Crimson Cage 3

thank you guys for being so patient

Rafe Cameron x Reader Outer Banks Masterlist

Closing your eyes, breathing in the sea air, waves crashing was the only noise surrounding you, if you tried hard enough you could imagine you were at the chateau, home.

The crisp blue waters and white sand beaches of the Caribbean are only a stones throw away. Almost any time of day you could be found here, on the balcony, hot tea in hand the breeze blowing through your hair, you were used to the feeling but the surrounding luxuries that accompanied it were new. Lush white furniture, the flawless railing you could run your hand across a thousand times and never get a splinter.

You weren’t used to these luxuries but you also weren’t used to being a Cameron.

“Marry me” Rafe spoke, the softness In his tone making the question almost sound like a real proposal, stealing a glance at the shiny band on your left hand, you suppose it was.

“Do you think I’ll get a ring like that one day?” Wheezie asked from her spot next to you when she saw you looking at it, "If you want one" You nodded your head.

“If Rafe doesn’t scare everyone off.” She mumbled, her lips pushing out in a pout when you laughed agreeing with her, thinking back to all the times he scared tourons and pouges away from you in your teen years. “He is really good at that.”

“Well if it isn’t my two favorite girls.” You both turned to see Rafe leaning against the open door, the easy smile he's had on his face since you got here still on his face as he walked closer, pulling you both under his arms. Ruffling her hair making her squirm. You liked this version of him, softer less murdery. While Wheezie struggled to get out of her brothers' playful grasp, you leaned further in.

“And how's the beautiful Mrs Cameron doing?” He asked pulling your left hand to his lips. After the wedding, he called you that for a week straight, it was the first time you saw him happy in a long time.

“Oh, you know soaking in the rays like every day.” It was true despite your cage getting an upgrade and having more freedom than you did, it still wasn't home.

Rafe perused his lips, pressing a kiss to your forehead staying there as he spoke. “I have to leave for a bit.” You jerked back eyes wide at the sudden news.

“you’re what!”

“That French guy found a buyer for the cross, I'm taking the boat down there and once I'm back we can do whatever we want.” His voice lowered “Think about what we could do with all that money.” You could finally get away from Ward, you thought to yourself. Rafe hands continued on their paths up and down your arms, hoping you wouldn’t fight too much.

"Can I go with you?" You knew it was a long shot but in your mind, anything was better than staying here with Rose and a bedridden Ward, unsurprisingly he shook his head, dipping his chin to meet your eyes.

"Baby I got this, trust me. You just stay here with Whez and I'll take care of everything, okay?"

“Excuse me?” Rafe turned hearing a new voice, rolling his eyes at the newcomer.

“What are you doing here?” Kiara demanded. “What am I doing here? Why are you here!”

“I was wondering if the reunion would cause sparks you know.” The man's voice cut off the two bickering. “Who are you?” Rafe asked. “My name is Carlos Singh Mr Cameron,” he turned to Kiara. “Miss Carrera.”

“So you know our names is this about the cross or not?” Rafe deflected his intimidation tactic. “This is about the cross Mr Cameron and something much more than that,” Singh spoke of some diary his words going in one ear and out the other until he got fed up.

“Alright I'm done with this, tell her all about your little book.” He exclaimed walking out of the room facing an armed guard. Rafe huffed out turning back to Singe.

“Do you think I’m a fool, Mr Cameron? You have the cross, she and her friends had it at one point. If you truly don't know where the diary is it’s in your best interest to convince Miss Carrera to change her mind. You have one day to decide.”

After he finished they were escorted to a bedroom upstairs that was locked by one of the armed men. "Look out the window if you would like a demonstration of just how serious I am," Singh said before they were taken away. creeping to the window keeping clear of each other they watched a man that Rafe had never seen dragged away before a single gunshot.

"What, Who was that?" Rafe asked, seeing Kiara back away from the window.

"Jimmy Portus, he tried to help me." her voice cracked. Rafes mind ran overtime, rubbing his hands over his buzzed head. "Okay, this diary do you know where it is?"

"Have you forgotten what you did!"

"Which part?" Rafe being the smartass he was replied.

"Killing Peterkin, shooting your sister, stealing the gold and the cross from us beating up Pope!" Kiara shouted. Rafe groaned pacing the length of the room before turning back with his eyes glossy.

"I know you all think of me as some kind of monster I get it and I feel bad about what I did to Sarah, but I'm a victim too. Don't look at me like that, I am, okay!" Rafe paced in front of the window as Kiarra watched silently, waiting for him to explode again

“Listen listen I know you don't trust me or like me honestly I don't care.” He spoke raising his hands to point at his chest. “But you care about Y/N.”

The girls brows furrowed. “You mean my friend that you kidnapped."

Rafe rolled his eyes "She was my girlfriend I saved her from a suicide mission, but that's not the point."

His tone dropped stepping forward, Kiara matching with one of her own backwards until she hit the bed frame.

"She married me." raising his left hand showcasing the gold band on his finger. At the sight, she took a deep breath no doubt about to start yelling.

"Everyone thinks my dad is dead, which means the business the money the gold, it went to me and now Y/n." his voice dropped to a whisper as he leaned closer.

"Rose can't touch her when I'm there but if I die she gets everything. what do you think Rose would do with all the power and money right there for the taking?"

"You might not want to help me get out of here fine, but do you really want whatever happens to her on your head?" Rafe cocked his head watching her resolve crumble and her teeth grind.

"Fine, I have an idea."

Rafe crept through the house, it had to be around midnight with how dark it was keeping his footsteps as quiet as possible he pushed the bedroom door open, seeing the silhouette on the bed. who sensing his presence flipped over and gasped.

"Rafe!" quickly moving he knelt on the bed his hand going to her neck.

"shh baby you're okay, it's me I'm back" his thumb rubbed back and forth soothing her back to laying down now on his chest. god how he missed this, the feeling of her pressed against him, her breath fanning across his neck as every inhale filled with the smell of her shampoo.

"Did you sell the cross," you whispered. feeling his arms tighten around you.

"Don't worry about that, but I did some thinking while I was gone." he sighed into your hair. "I think it's time we go home." you shot up a hand pressing against his chest not giving him a chance to escape, not that he would go anywhere with you looking at him like that.

"We're going back to the Outer Banks?" grabbing your hand and pressing soft kisses long it as he sat up, his face illuminated by the moonlight allowing you to see his smile through the darkness. "We can leave in the morning."

Seeing the happiness glowing from the love of his life he's glad he withheld the finer details of the pouges and Singh, all that mattered was getting home.

Meanwhile, across the world, your sibling was floating back to the same island with their now alive father. who after steering the boat for a few hours joined John B down below.

“Where’s my butterfly is she still in OBX with that Cameron boy?” His father spoke sitting across from him at the table. it was still surreal to see him alive and well in front of him

“Uh, I don't know?” John B tucked his head. “What do you mean? She wasn’t with you"

“No, after Ward framed me for Peterkin, Sarah, Y/N and I were going to run on JJs dads boat, but she never showed up.” He watched as the information sunk into his dad as he slowly sunk into the chair his full attention on his oldest child.

"Sarah was with you on the run?"

"uh yeah." John B rubbed the back of his neck. "We're married, Dad." his foot tapped nervously waiting for his father's response.

"You married Sarah Cameron? Ward's daughter Sarah?"

"Are you mad?" he asked, trying the read the look on his father's face, who cracked into a smile.

"That you went after the big catch? not at all son, just sorry I missed the wedding" John B released a breath of air he was holding when the room went serious.

“So where is Y/N John B?”

“Sarah told me on the island that Rafe took her thinking she was on a suicide mission following me, she was on the ship with the cross when I last saw her. She stayed behind.”

The older man was silent in thought, “So Ward tried to kill me. Rafe shot Peterkin, you got framed and went on the run while Rafe kidnapped your sister. You found her but left her and got stranded on a island and married his sister, is that right?” John B nodded mumbling “There were a few things in between but yes”

"You know his sister so tell me bird, would he hurt her?" John B has never seen his father so serious about something other than treasure.

"No, Rafe would kill just about anyone, but he wouldn't hurt her, if anything he'd do it for her in his own twisted way."

"Alright then, we get to the OBX, find the map then get your sister." the older man slapped his thigh going to stand up ready to get them home as soon as possible.

This is the life you missed, it was like nothing changed. the second you landed back in the OBX you demanded Rafe take the roof off his jeep and take you driving wanting to see everything immediately. And who was he to say no?

Left hand free played full blast through the speakers as you drove downtown. your smile widens seeing Haywards, then the beach where you and Kiara saved baby turtles that one summer.

Unable to hold in your excitement you unbuckled your seatbelt and before Rafe could stop you, you stood up holding onto the bar. "I'm home!" you yelled at the top of your lungs against the wind. you could barely hear Rafes laugh at your antics.

His hand landed on your thigh the second you sat back down against the leather. you turned to look at him, you realized how young he looked in that moment no stress on his shoulders, he looked like when you first fell in love and would drive around town just to talk all day. except now there was a shiny ring on his left hand steering the car.

"I love you." the second the words left your lips the car's brakes slammed to a stop, the only reason you didn't hit the dash from the sudden jolt was the arm holding you back.

"What did you say?" Rafe shouted, before composing himself and asking again in a quieter tone. you haven't said it since before the tarmac but also haven't felt this since then.

He watched you intently as you smiled, you grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him closer. "I love you Rafe." you felt his breath shudder against your lips. his hand tangled itself in your hair. "I love you so much Y/n, always have always will." his lips crashed against yours with the passion of two lovers separated for years, which in a way you were.

You could feel Rafes smile against your lips. "Take me home Rafe."

once again he did as you asked, you don't think you've ever gotten to Tannyhill so fast before. the car was barely stopped before Rafe jumped out and ran to your side.

"Rafe!" you yelped when he picked you up, "Just carrying my bride across the threshold."

The weeks you've had in the OBX have been a dream, it was back to how it was. One morning while cooking breakfast Rafe to your shock, even dropped the keys to his jeep in front of you with a kiss on the head telling you to drive safe, before leaving on his bike to wherever he went during the day.

The first place you went was the chateau, softly shutting the car door all the memories you've made here hit you. The bedtime stories your dad would tell you and John B of pirates and gold, sleepovers with the pouges, even sneaking out to meet Rafe. You thought things would be the same when you came back, but nothing was. Now you had to push away cobwebs just to get inside.

With a sigh you looked around the chateau, kicking aside one of John B.'s shoes he threw everywhere, the floors creaked as you made your way around the house the layers of dust only confirming what you thought. No one was here, you didn't know where your brother was but figured he was as far as he could get from here.

Wiping your hands of dust you decided to go back home. you never thought you would call Tannyhill home but the feeling you had in that large white house felt better than you did minutes ago. Rafe was still gone when you got home so you went to your favorite spot in the house, the master balcony. the water looked nothing like in Guadalupe but you loved it.

Rafe who snuck in behind you, silently wrapped his arms around your waist pulling your back to his chest, his breath fanning your neck as he spoke. "I missed you wifey." you jumped in shock then relaxed back into his hold recognizing his voice, returning the sentiment he turned you around thumbs rubbing your waist from where he snuck his hands under your shirt.

"I had something made for you," Rafe smirked giving one last squeeze before moving his hands one going to the back of your neck the other reaching for something in his back pocket. pulling out a necklace covered in diamonds. before you could protest he clasped it around your neck his fingertips brushing along your collarbones as he fixed it.

"Rafe," "Just say thank you, and let me treat my wife like a husband should." he sushed you still admiring the hardware. reaching up on your tiptoes you pressed your lips together. wrapping your arms around his neck pulling away you showered his face in kisses, his jaw, cheek, nose everywhere. He practically preened loving the attention you were giving.

"There's one more thing," Rafe spoke suddenly looking uncharecterlisticly sheepish, like he was afraid of your reaction. curious as to what would pull that reaction out of him you wordlessly nodded your head. "Close your eyes." doing as he said you felt him pull away and heard shuffling. "Open"

You opened your eyes finding him on one knee eyes hopeful and ring in hand. "I know we are married already but I always wanted to give you the ring you deserve and what better place than your favorite." he choked up a bit on his words his eyes glossy. "So Y/n love of my life, will you stay married to me?"

Honestly, you wanted to laugh he was right the papers were signed but with how he looked right now you couldn't dare make fun when he took it so seriously. "Yes Rafe, I'll stay married to you." you smiled as he released a heavy sigh of relief. This is how you originally imagined him proposing, here not on some boat. the second he got to his feet his hands caged your face pulling in, kissing you like it was the altar. you watched as he slid the biggest oval diamond you have ever seen on your finger. "Oh my god where did you get this its massive!"

If you were paying attention you would've seen his shoulders tense momentarily. "We are Cameron's baby." was the only answer he gave as he watched you admire the ring and the view of the ocean in the same scene. he took his spot back behind you with you held tight in his arms nuzzeling your neck.

“You know this is all ours right? Just how it was always meant to be.” He whispered looking over the backyard of Tannyhill with you.

“We’re here to sell it Rafe it's not ours.” you sighed.

“Isn’t it? My dad can’t come back here, it's all in my name. I always told you this would be ours one day.” He paused using his grip on your hips to spin you to face him.

“Today is that day.” He nuzzled his nose in your hair taking a breath as you felt excitement fill you at the possibility of being home again. Your hands went to his face pulling his eyes to yours. That easy-going smile he got when he knew he did something you'd like on his face.

“We can really stay?” You whispered hopefully as if a louder tone would ruin everything. Rafe smiled loving that happy look in your eyes once again. He nodded his nose rubbing against yours with the movement. “We’re home baby.” He spoke against your lips before before pressing more fully.

Excitedly smiling into the kiss, you wrapped your arms around his neck laughing as he spun you. maybe Rafe was right and everything that happened was for the best because this felt like where you were supposed to be.

a few days later you watched Rafe walk in, instead of joining you in the kitchen he leaned against the enteryway watching you, "Let's go for a drive there's something you need to see. his somber tone rattled you. He led you out to the jeep looking like he was fighting himself with every step. the ride was quiet your leg bounced with nerves, normally Rafe was your rock if he was calm you didn't need to worry but his hands kept flexing and shifting on the wheel.

You looked to Rafe in confusion as he pulled the truck to a stop at the chateau. He pulled your hand to his face making you caress his cheek, turning his head he kissed your palm before letting you go and turning to face the house.

“Go, I’ll be here.”

You shook your head. "There is nothing there i already looked." Rafe sighed nodding to the house again.

Not understanding but still trusting him, you pulled open your door and stepped out, looking at Rafe one more time who gave you a forced smile confusing you even more. Shaking it off you made your way to the backyard surprised to hear voices. Turning the corner you froze seeing the pouges all standing around smiling at someone who was spinning with JJ on their back it wasn’t until they turned around you saw who it was.

“Dad?”

The group froze hearing the new voice. Their eyes widened seeing you, who for all they knew was somewhere in the Bahamas under lock and key. now stood right in front of them. JJ slid off your dad's back as he straightened to full height staring right back at you, or you think he was, your vision was blurry welling up with tears.

"There's my butterfly." he choked out, opening his arms. for you to fall into, you were hit with the familiar smell of your father as you wrapped your arms around him. "We thought you were dead." you sobbed against his chest. you felt it rumble with his chuckle. "Seems like there was a lot of that around here."

He pulled back, hands cradling your face and wiping your tears like when you were little. "I missed you, kid."

"I missed you too Dad."

"I missed you too you know!" your attention turned to John B, who was quick to wrap you up in a hug. "I'm sorry I never should left you on that ship, I should've made you jump first-" you laughed cutting him off mid-rant. "It's okay, we're back now, all of us." Big John who was watching turned to the pouges.

"Well, kids I think we need some family time." Sarah hesitates leaving with the others when John B. walks back to her side and grabs her hand. "She's family to dad." Big John sighed, nodding his head. "Come on then." holding the door open you stood still as your brother and Sarah walked into the chatue.

"You guys go ahead I'll be right there." you waited until your dad shot the door behind him before jogging back to the driveway. Rafe who saw you quickly jumped out of the truck to meet you. "Are you okay?" his hands went to your jaw making you look up at him, his thumbs gently swiping under your eyes. you didn't bother telling him about your dad, figuring that's why he brought you here.

"My dad called for family time, you should be there too." Rafe smiled at your words pulling you closer to press his lips against your forehead before taking your hand, letting you lead him inside.

Everyone was sitting at the small table when you both walked in, John B. and Sarah's Eyes widened while your father looked like he almost expected it. You both sat down rafes arm slung over the back of your chair fingers brushing your upper arm. "So fill me in." Big john spoke.

We all took turns explaining our sides it was well after nightfall until everyone was done, Dad sat back in his chair with a glass of bourbon held in his hands. "never thought I'd miss both of my kids weddings." he said before emptying the glass in one go.

"I'd just like to point out we're the only ones that are legally married here, not just some sea law." Rafe pointed out pointing between you and your bother, his ring caught the light. "And we could always have another wedding here like it was supposed to be." He spoke nonchalantly, making you perk up. the Guadalupe wedding was beautiful but it was always a dream to get married here, at home.

Rafe turns back with his smug smile on his face shooting you a wink. John B disgusted by the scene in front of him speaks up. "Maybe a double wedding then huh Rafey." he mocks using your nickname for the man who doesn't even glare back just smiles. "No." your dad laughs at the two as the night comes to a close. You had everything you wanted, Rafe, your dad, and your brother back everything was perfect, until a few days later.

You had just gotten back to Tannyhill from the chateau walking up the wide white steps nothing seemed amiss. "Hello Y/N." you spun around, breath catching in your throat.

"Ward."

wooo that took forever this is truly my favorite series I have written i hope you guys liked it as much as i do leave a comment if you did (they make me smile) check out the other parts here if you'd like to be added to my OBX tag list please let me know!

taglist: @itssoweirdyoureher @scenesofobx @dopedaegus @marauderswhore

[pretty-toastie]

Κασσάνδρα

Things that are tangled: The loop of red string I keep in my pocket, rub absently between my fingers, twist into tiny shapes. The boughs and vines and briars of Central Park. The screams of crows perched high in hemlocks, in birches, in oaks and aspens and yews, raspy and joyful and defiant. The thatched roof of a home on the rocky shore of Ireland and the carpeted floor of an arcade strewn with neon geometry, both rough on my hands in the same way. The prophecies that hang in the air, the knowledge that suffuses the atmosphere and drips blackened knots over the heads of humanity. Time.

A pair of young girls—was I ever that young?—stumbled across me once, in the woods of northern France. Their gaze fell on me, wrapped in a battered bomber jacket, the patches torn away long ago or long after, and I exhaled a cloud of cigarette smoke and stared back at them. They stood frozen, side by side, their eyes wide. I watched one girl shift closer to the other, heard the crunch of twigs and dead leaves under her foot. She whispered something in French, grabbed the other’s hand, her fingers trembling slightly.

Something about these girls, scared, standing in front of an entity they could not comprehend reminded me of myself; I wanted desperately to put them at ease. Your children are beautiful, I told them. You raised them so well. And they were, and they did—I could see them, all bright smiles and bubbling laugher and round cheeks, all dirty hands and strong arms and herbs tucked into leather pouches, all grey hair and wrinkled skin and wisdom.

The girls couldn’t see. Of course they couldn’t.

It’s so easy to forget what you should and shouldn’t know yet when you already know everything. The years blend together, and I forget where I am, when I am. It makes me feel insane.

A young man—a boy—found me once in an alley in Seludong. He was out of breath, nervous. He spoke in rapid Tagalog. They say you’re a witch, he said. Can you change me? Can you fix my body? It’s not right. It doesn’t fit me. It broke my heart to have to tell him no, tell him that all I can do is see, that the only way I can change anything is to warn people. I could not bring myself to tell him that no one will ever heed my warnings.

Phoebus Apollo’s voice echoes in my skull, as hot and violent as the sun. It tastes like ozone, like blood on my tongue. Just the memory hurts. He knew that I just wanted to help. All I ever wanted was to help. I saw the people around me suffering and I just wanted to help them and he offered me the means—gave me the means. But then he asked for something in return, a price I wasn’t willing to pay, and I said no—but what does ‘no’ mean, to a god? I turned him down, and he, in turn, unable to revoke his gift,  made sure that I would never be able to help anyone.

Things that are tangled: The pieces of soft, soft cloth I keep in my pocket, rub absently between my fingers, worried and worn and frayed. The wrought iron fence gates of a manor in northern Vermont. The calls of screech owls and foxes, hunting at night, earsplitting, beautiful. The smell of woodsmoke, the taste of basil and rosemary and lemongrass and mint. My feelings. How can I love someone when I know that she would do anything for me, that for me to love her would destroy her? How can I love someone when I can see her wife’s face in my mind, always, always, and it isn’t mine?

But then, how can I not?  She puts basil and rosemary and lemongrass and mint in the glasses of water she makes me. She takes me to an arcade, laughs when I need to stop to run my fingers over the carpet of neon geometry but waits all the same. She listens when I tell stories about places I’ve been and things I’ve seen and people I’ve met. She is patient when I forget. She walks with me through Central Park, smiles excitedly at me when the foxes and the crows and the screech owls scream because she knows I love the sounds.

Her face in the moonlight is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, and I have seen everything. She never asks me about her future.

And then her future arrives. It always had happened, always would happen. I can only bear to live through that time once. I’m not there. I am lost in the tangled weave of time and space and future and past, hunched over in the rain on the edge of a street in the middle of somewhere, terrified by the snarled knot of certainty that hangs in front of the faces of everyone who passes me. I am broken, I am lost. I know everything. I cannot remember my name. I watch the world end against the inside of my eyelids, again and again and again, and I cannot tell where I am, when I am. I do not know how to get back to her.

I left her, and I was gone for so long, and she fell in love. Really, truly, deeply. She and her wife were so happy, are so happy, will be so happy, and I am so happy for her. I am. I breathe in, breathe out. I have always known. I could see our ending from the moment I met her. I still didn’t expect it to hurt so much.

Things that are tangled: the lines of fate that bind people together, tear them apart. The pits of peaches, scarred over with twisting grooves. The ever-branching future and the ever-growing past. The sound of raindrops on asphalt. Flowers blooming before the last frost. The taste of loss, acid in my mouth. I feel insane. I know that I am not. I knew what would happen. No one ever heeds my warnings.

I blow a cloud of smoke and fog into the damp night air, watch as it mingles with the low grey clouds lit from above by the pale moon. I pull my worn jacket closer around me.

Time will keep moving forward. It always has. I will bear witness to it all.

[earlgreydream]

time for us.

| loki x reader | angst | fluff |

anon requested. loki has been working a lot lately and hasn’t really had anytime for the reader and he completely forgets about their anniversary and she doesn’t tell him for a couple of days but then he snaps at her and they have a huge argument

a/n: this doesn’t have any spoilers for the show— just mention that Loki works for the TVA (which isn’t canon at the time of me writing this)

You loathed Loki’s new job, working for the Time Variance Authority.

Ever since Loki began at the TVA, they’d managed to occupy nearly all of his time and energy, leaving little to none left for you. Your relationship was strong, but only a few weeks of work had put a strain on the two of you.

He’d become more short tempered, and easily agitated. You tried to be patient, but little things seemed to antagonize you, and soon every small thing was becoming huge.

Above all, you hated to fight with Loki. You bottled up your frustration, shoving them down inside of you and keeping them hidden and locked away. Your limited time with Loki was precious, and you didn’t want to poison it with your annoyance. However, it was doing damage that you hadn’t yet comprehended, building a pressurized weapon that was bound to explode.

It took weeks, but the explosion came.

.

Loki had been so caught up in work that he missed your anniversary. It had escaped his mind entirely, passing like any other day. He was distracted by variants running wild, and the need to please his new boss. He felt responsible for things that were going wrong, and he had put your relationship on the backburner.

You’d been certain he’d take you out during the night, or at least do something to acknowledge the anniversary of your love, but you’d been dead wrong. You waited at home as hours passed, and when his normal arrival time had long passed, the pain in your chest grew until your entire body was throbbing with hurt.

You took your makeup off, along with the pretty dress you wore-- the green one that your husband adored.

Loki had stayed late at work, taking overtime and showing up just before ten. You were so hurt you could hardly speak, but Loki’s mind was too muddled with work to even notice. You were already in bed when he returned home, and he’d kissed your forehead and gone to sleep with less than five words leaving his lips.

You laid awake in bed that night, staring at the wall. You should have told Loki you were angry, said something then and at least gotten it in the open. But you shoved it down with everything else— every other hurt and grievance and annoyance that poisoned you.

.

“Can you set that down, please?” You asked, four days later. You tried to keep your tone even, but you were impatient. The bite in your words was all you could do to keep from tearing the file from his delicate hands.

Loki was in the kitchen, his face buried in a variant case file. He was supposed to be helping you make dinner, but you were dismissed and cast aside once again as his work outshined you.

“I’m working, Y/N! It’s important. Don’t you want me to get paid so you can have your pretty things?” Loki snapped, shocking you.

“No!” You screamed, slamming the cabinet door shut.

He stared at you, turquoise eyes wide in shock at your outburst. He dropped the file on the counter, a harsh glare adorning his stunning face.

“No, Loki! I don’t fucking care about the pretty things. I don’t even know that I care about YOU!” The words were coming out before you could stop them.

“You don’t care about me?! All I ever do is for you!” Loki met your anger, matching your energy and only fueling the fire of rage that was building in your stomach.

“You’re such a selfish liar! You don’t give a fuck about me, Loki! You’re in a relationship with your bullshit job, you don’t give a damn about me! All of your time and your energy... and fuck, even your kindness goes to the stupid fucking TVA!! There’s nothing left for me, and I don’t want your scraps!” You shoved him back when he took a step toward you.

“I’m selfish? You’re needy and dramatic! You’re a spoiled brat, acting out when not every ounce of my attention is being given to you. What, you’re mad that I didn’t help you make this salad? Grow up, Y/N!” Loki’s hateful words poured out, tasting like acid in his mouth.

“No! I’m mad that you forgot our anniversary and that you haven’t seen how much you’ve hurt me!” Tears burned as they streamed down your face, blurring your vision that was bleeding at the edges.

Loki’s lips parted, and realization suddenly crossed his features. He took a step back, recognizing his anger had spiraled out of control, and that your anger was justified.

“I didn’t mean it… I do care about you, I just want you to care about me.” Your voice broke, and shaky hands went to your mouth, stifling a sob. Guilt swelled in Loki’s chest as he saw you fall apart, unable to bear the weight of your anger.

“I’m sorry. You’re right. I don’t know how I’ve forgotten. Please, my love, forgive me,” Loki’s tone softened, and he knelt down to his knees before you.

He didn’t care about the messy floors ruining his perfect suit, nothing mattered to him then except for you.

“I shouldn’t have gotten so angry, I just miss you,” you were weeping, unable to hold the sobs at bay.

“It’s okay, scream and cry if you need to, but know I love you more than anything and I am terribly, terribly sorry.”

Loki gently pulled you forward, closing his arms around you. His forehead rested against your stomach, and you laid your hands on top of his head.

“I know. I know,” you stammered in shaky breaths. Your fingers trembled as you dragged them through his hair, overwhelmed with every emotion that washed over you all at once.

.

You got home from work, a couple of days after your fight. You had both apologized, easing the tension over. Loki hadn’t stopped apologizing, even when you promised him it was okay. It had been better since-- you weren’t keeping secrets or harboring anger, and you felt exceedingly better in the aftermath of your fight.

You walked into your master suite, considering a hot bath or a shower after your day. You were lost in your thoughts as you kicked your shoes off, before turning to the bed. A dress was laid out on the end of the bed, glittery heels and jewelry in a box beside it. Loki wasn’t home, but a note was attached, telling you to get dressed and he’d meet you.

You smiled, lifting the black cocktail dress. You changed, fixing your hair and makeup in the mirror. Your day at work had been long, and you didn’t know what Loki had in store for you, but you were excited.

The lock clicked open on the door, signaling the arrival of your husband. You stepped into the foyer to greet him, met with Loki in an all-black suit. A grin spread across his expression as he noticed you, making warmth bloom in your chest.

“You look-” you both started at the same time.

You smiled and tilted your head, letting him speak.

“You look beautiful,” Loki spoke softly before giving you a kiss.

“Thank you. You look sharp. What’s the occasion, what are we doing?”

“I’m so sorry I missed our anniversary. I thought we could celebrate us tonight.”

You broke into a grin, nodding excitedly.

“Yes. Yes, let’s do it.”

“Of course. Let me set my things down,” he kissed your cheek and stepped into your master, cleaning up and dropping his bag.

.

You were driven to a fancy restaurant, one hand in Loki’s as the other smoothed over the wheel of his black sports car. He dropped the keys with a valet, and you were escorted to a table in the back of the place.

“Wine, Mrs. Laufeyson?”

“Please,” you nodded, and the waiter poured you a glass of sparkling pink moscato.

“I’ve gotten us a suite at the resort in the city. I have a bag packed for you in the car, I thought we could enjoy a weekend away. You deserve it,” Loki brought your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles.

“You’re spoiling me,” you giggled, sipping your wine.

“As I should be.”

Elaborate French dishes were brought out on gorgeous plates, looking like something from a food blog. It tasted divine, and Loki told you some history about the dish from some time he was living or traveling in Paris. You listened to his animated stories, thinking about how you were so in love with him. 

“Why’re you staring at me like that?” Loki laughed softly, spooning sorbet into your mouth.

“Because I love you. And you’re charming and cute when you get excited,” you confessed with a grin. 

“I love you too. I’m sorry about everything,” he apologized. 

“It’s okay. We’re past it. Time moves forward for us.”

Loki nodded, leaning forward and smearing a kiss over your temple before retrieving your car from the valet.

“To the hotel?” he asked, sliding his hands over your hips and kissing your neck as you waited.

“Okay,” you giggled, squirming in his arms. 

He squeezed your bum, making you gasp before opening the door for you, helping you into the passenger seat. 

When you arrived at the hotel, there was a bouquet of roses on the table, and candles burning around. He kissed the back of your head, setting your bag down for you.

“Let me make this up to you,” his voice was deep as he unzipped your dress.

“Please,” you smiled, turning in his arms and pulling him into a heated kiss. 

[strangelysamantha]

hi can i request a blurb or a whole imagine where jj rlly likes reader but she’s a kook and his friends don’t like her that much, 💗 thank u

hatred runs out ❀

jj maybank x kook!reader.

warnings: swearing, hateful feelings, that’s all.

words: 2,015.

summary: you are a kook, you were trying to befriend the pogues as they made you happier than you had been in months. the only downside, none of them were quite welcoming, besides jj.

request? yes!

a/n: my ask box is open, send away! i’m working on multiple imagines that should come later! like and comment if you enjoy this. thanks for the request! <3

my masterlist

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“she’s a kook jj, i mean, you aren’t seriously crushing on her? are you?” john b looked up at jj, and frowned when he saw he wasn’t laughing. “john b, i don’t know what it is man, but she’s different. i just know it.” john b cackled, “she’s not different. she’s a kook, i mean come on… she hangs out with topper. that says enough.” jj rolled his eyes, obviously annoyed. “you just don’t like her because she associates with sarah’s ex.” he shakes his head. “no, that’s not the reason jj. your mind is just fogged up, because you clearly aren’t thinking straight.” jjs anger was boiling up, and before he did something he would regret, he decided to just walk off.

jj stormed away. he continued walking despite john bs attempt of calling out to him to stop. he was trying to clear his mind, he genuinely liked you, so much that he felt the need to tell john b. jj wouldn’t usually be this upset, but when john b of all people disapproves because you are a kook, when the girl he is dating is sarah, it angers him. after ten minutes of air, and chilling out, he returns to john bs house.

once inside he sees you and kie. he was completely caught off guard. “oh? you’re here.” jj spoke to you, causing you to look up. “hey jj. yeah, i decided to stop by before my shift. do you want to join us? we’re playing uno.” your smile immediately lifts a smile to jj's face. “sure i’ll play some uno.” he approaches the table, and you deal him seven cards.

kie was the only one who semi liked you. obviously she wasn't ecstatic about you, but she was open to tolerating you. as time went on, she started to enjoy your company, she realized you weren’t that bad, and despite being a kook, the two of you related on many things.

“first card is a yellow two. jj can go first.” you stare at him, waiting patiently for his move. his heart was beating fast, as he tried to pick a card. as he placed a yellow seven, john b walked in. “why is she here?” you didn’t miss the sharp tone that lingered in john bs voice. “oh, i decided to stop by. i’m sorry, i should have asked.” you stand up, reaching for your jacket. “that’s right. you should have asked. you can’t just show up to someone’s house randomly. it’s weird.” you frown, not realizing until now that he didn’t trust you enough to even be considered an acquaintance.

“she’s welcomed here whenever she wants to be, john b.” jj spoke up for you. kie backing him up by softly saying yeah. “no. she’s not. it’s my house jj, and i don’t appreciate you inviting random kook strangers over. she’s not a pogue. she’s not like us. meaning; she’s not welcomed here.” you frown at his words. you quickly feel out of place and you rush to the door, pulling your shoes on. “i’m going to go.” you spoke up, grabbing your purse. “good. see you!” john b exclaimed, watching you walk out the front door and down the steps.

“what the fuck bro?” jj stared at john b waiting for an explanation. “what?” jjs eyes narrowed on his, he couldn’t be serious could he? “why do you always do that shit bro? i mean honestly. what makes her any different from sarah?” john b shakes his head. “don’t even compare them. they aren't similar.”

jj scoffs, “oh they’re not?” jj begins to expose the similarities but john b shuts it down immediately. “jj i’m not going to explain myself to you anymore. i don’t like her, and i don’t want her over here.” jj groans in frustration. “if only you got to know her man, then you’d know how amazing she is. i mean ask kie. kie thought she was annoying at first and now they can be in the same room without being in a yelling match.” kie nodded, listening in but staying mostly silent.

“fine. the only reason i’m agreeing is because you hate kooks too, which means you might be right. about her.” john b sighs, giving up. “thank you. please, even if you decide you still don’t like her, please just consider getting to know her.” he pleads, “i already said i will.” john b rolled his eyes, jj smiles, “okay. we should invite her to hang out with us after pope gets off work.” they all nod in agreement, planning something so they could see if they wanted you to join their party.

the pogues had planned on inviting you to the wreck, and then to a mini trip on the hms pogue, for a boat ride. you were ecstatic, excited that they wanted to actually hang out with you. you think hard, trying to find a perfect outfit. you didn’t want to overdress, or underdress, and you didn’t want to look bad. after deciding on a simple outfit and swimsuit, you head to the wreck.

you see the group in the back corner. when you walk inside, jj is the first to spot you. a smile spreads to his lips, as he waves you over to join them. you sit down by john b, jj sitting on the other side of you. “hey.” you say shyly, not entirely sure if this whole thing was a set up. you were hopeful it wasn’t, but you could never be too sure.

“hey, thanks for coming.” pope said. you smile brightly at him, “thanks for inviting me.” pope nods. your stomach was hurting by how nervous you were. jj made small talk with you, as you guys were waiting for kiara. you weren’t entirely sure what they were planning, you were just glad to be a part of it.

“alright guys. here’s the scraps.” kiara walked to your table, setting down a bowl of fries, and then a plaster of burgers. you smile softly, jj and john b immediately grabbing the food. you wait, not entirely hungry since you ate before you left. jj offered you a bite of his burger, “oh thanks!” you laugh slightly as you bite from where he had bitten, enjoying the taste, “hey you actually have mustard right there.” you smiled as you spread mustard on jj’s face. you couldn’t help the giggles erupting from you, as jj’s mouth opened wide in shock. “oh really? well you seem to have some ketchup-” his finger rubbed ketchup on your cheek. “all over…” he gestured to your face. “hey! give me a napkin.” you ask for a napkin and jj laughs. “no.” you immediately look over to pope, giving him a smile. “may i have a napkin?” you ask. he smiles, “sorry jay.” he hands you a napkin and you wipe the ketchup off your face.

“thank you pope. i like you. unlike some people at this table…” you look at jj and he’s just smiling like a maniac. pope laughs. “glad that you think so highly of me just because i handed you a napkin.” you nod, eating a french fry before glancing at john b. he was awfully quiet. “john b?” you question. he looks up at you. “yes?” annoyance already rolling off his tongue. “are you okay?” he rolled his eyes. “yes. even if i wasn’t, i wouldn’t confide in you about it.” you frown.

you wait a second, trying to think of how to lighten the mood. “you know what we need to do?” you look from pope to jj, to finally john b, poking at his arm. “what?” john b looks up at you. you tap jj’s stomach, indicating to him to stand up. he stands up, making room for you to be able to move out of the booth. you poke john bs side. “we need to dance.” you grab john b's hand, doing anything possible to lighten his mood. his frown was still hung on his lips. he hesitated and followed you to the middle of the restaurant. jj and pope stay back at the booth.

you lean over the counter, asking kie to play a song she knows john b would enjoy. “john b. you just need to calm down, and relax. you just need to dance like nobody's watching.” he stares at you, shocked. “it’s okay. i’ll do it with you.” his favorite song started playing, and you began to awkwardly dance. he laughed at your ridiculous moves. he held back from joining in, he didn’t want you to win. you began to break out dancing, and he can’t help but laugh. you look up as someone enters the restaurant. a smile flies to your face. “sarah!!!” she runs up to you.

“hey!!! i didn’t know you guys would be here.” you smile, still swaying slightly to the music. “sarah i would have definitely invited you if i knew you were free.” she nodded at your words. “all good girly, we still good for monday?” you smile, “of course.” john b stared, confused by this whole interaction. not only did you know sarah, you were actually friends with her. you had plans to hang out with her. maybe he was wrong, maybe jj was the one who was right. maybe, you actually were similar to sarah.

“do you want to join us?” you ask, sarah grabbed your hand spinning you around before breaking out in a fit of laughter. “stay another minute here with you losers… i’ll pass.” you jokingly act offended, “hey!” she shakes her head. “only kidding. i definitely would, but my dad wants me home. he claims he has a fun night planned but it’ll probably just consist of watching a movie and eating from here.” you nod. “well have fun with that.” you spoke, she smiles, “you know i always do.” you roll your eyes at her joke, she walks away grabbing her to go food before she disappears from the restaurant. “hey i’m gonna go take a sip of water.” you move back to the booth, jj refusing to move so you end up sitting on his lap. you sip water as you catch your breath from dancing.

john b heads straight to kiara. “how long have they been friends?” he asked abruptly. “her and sarah?” kie questions, pointing at you. he nods, “yeah.” kiara laughs, “they’ve been buddies for years. they didn’t get super close until a month or two ago.” he nods at her words. he was still shocked. he looked back at the booth, seeing you sat on jjs lap, his hands held firmly around your waist. you were speaking to pope, and he actually looked interested in what you were saying.

john b had just realized that he had the wrong idea of who you were. whether sarah made him realize that or not, he definitely didn’t want to hold a grudge with you, especially if sarah was your friend. john b walked back to the table, his attention on you. kiara had followed swiftly behind him. “let’s raise a toast.” the group was confused but they lifted their cups of water anyway. “to the newest member of our club.” his glass pointed in your way, his cup clashing with yours. you smile. john b was the only one you were worried about, and now he was saying he welcomes you.

the group cheers as you smile brightly. “thank you guys! i’m so excited for our future adventures.” you drink from your glass. the group waited for kiara’s shift to end before taking the hms pogue for a ride. you were sat by jj, pope to your left. kiara and john b talking as they directed the boat.

“well, welcome. you made it.” pope smiles, laughing slightly. “i did, isn’t that crazy. john b hated me like 6 hours ago.” jj laughs, “classic john b for you.” you nod at his words. pope, jj, john b, kiara, and you, talked all night, watching the stars as you guys got closer. it was so much fun, and today’s events allowed you to become a permanent group member.

<3

[dorimena]

𝕻𝖗𝖊𝖙𝖙𝖞 𝖕𝖙.𝟏

𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔢𝔯; monoma neito

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱; 5.1k of filth,

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰; nsfw, Overstimulation, edging, dacryphilia, degradation/humilliation, cursing, cockwarming, crossdressing, school girl kink (?), mommy kink, pegging, cum play+eating, dom!fem reader, sub!character

𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔰; whiney Monoma, loud sex, Monoma in a skirt, soundproof dorms, mentions of other 1B characters, aged-up character, Monoma is 18 in this

𝔰𝔦𝔡𝔢 𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔢; this was meant to just be some long fic, but I find it easier to just divide it into 2 parts while I figure out how to write out the scene I actually wanted to get to. I got carried away. This is what I've been doing during holy week. My religious school would be ashamed of me. This has been proofread, but if there are still any mistakes, I apologize.

𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔦𝔦.; incomplete/in progress.

Monoma had a shit week.

It all started on Monday when his school pants ripped conveniently from the back as he bent down to pick up his fallen notebook. They didn’t even look like they would rip! So how did they...? All he could hear during his inner turmoil and growing embarrassment were murmurs of pity, whispers of curiosity, and his homeroom teacher calling his name countless times to send him back to the dorms to change. Permission slip in hand and underwear out, he silently nodded and made his out, all while ignoring a burning sensation in his eyes and sudden dryness in his throat.

(Walking out the doors with his blazer tied around his waist, he swore he heard a familiar giggle and mockery coming from a smart-mouthed girl.)

Tuesday came bulldozing so suddenly that it ran over him. Well, really it was Yaoyorozu’s canon that almost ran him over. 

The day, in general, was normal, none of his classmates made comments about the minor incident the day before, well, except for Y/N who asked if he sent his pants to be fixed or not. (He didn’t, so she demanded him to hand it over to her.) He didn’t go back to the dorms after their last class, since he has to carry out classroom cleaning duties after he accidentally pushed Bakugou into the mud last week. No, seriously, it was an accident. First off, he didn’t see the mud. Second off, he was messing around with Kaibara’s quirk, which spooked Nirengeki who was somehow walking close by to the hot-headed explosion man- and… well, Monoma mistook Bakugou for Honenuki. For some odd reason. How insulting to his intelligence and great memory skills.

So after such a tiring task of brooming, wiping, dusting, and inspecting, he expected to be knocked off his feet with whatever Kendo decided to cook for dinner, not Yaoyorozu’s canon. God, and he shrieked! Who fucking shrieks?! He’s 18, he’s not supposed to shriek! Unless you’re pegging him just right-  

Wednesday only sucked because you canceled your biweekly study session in favor of hanging out with the girls in 3A. Now, regardless of what people still say, he has matured and slowly grew out his competitiveness and “jealousy” over class A, and doesn’t really have much issue with most of them (mainly because Shinsou somehow helped him become more “friendly”). However, how dare you choose the girls over him! You’ve never done that. 

(And whether or not he was moody and pouty is just a hallucination of yours, he swears it.)

The only bad thing, if you could even call it that, that happened on Thursday was that it slipped his mind how much time he had left to use Tsuburaba’s quirk and lost against his good ol’ pal. 

Friday though… Friday was just really weird and he hated how it only felt weird for him. Maybe it’s pent up frustration with how the week went? Maybe it’s the pouty baby in him still being butthurt over Wednesday’s missed study date? Maybe it’s you staring at his legs and ass? Maybe it’s the way you look so delectable in your hero outfit? Maybe- well, now he was just overthinking it, and he rarely ever does! He was tempted on asking Shinsou to, y’know, brainwash him so he could forget this weird feeling of him feeling weird.

Now comes Saturday. 

Today is Saturday.

Today is 10:06 pm on a Saturday.

You’re over at his dorm for the already mentioned biweekly study date. He should feel happy, considering you brought over some snacks, ordered take-out from his favorite French restaurant, even played with his hair every time you guys had the 15-minute study break. 

But he’s not happy.  He’s not unhappy, but he isn’t happy? Again, the weird feeling he felt the day before hasn’t really left and it’s been crawling around his skin, only getting worse when he saw you coming in with pants. 

It’s not supposed to make him feel not happy, but you usually come over with a cute skirt or dress, showing enough of your thighs and panties to keep him up at night, fantasizing about them wrapped around his head, suffocating him as he eats you out so delicately or ferociously, littered with his desperate bites and kisses, making him whine out in horny pain-

“Monoma?” you asked, eyebrows furrowed in worry as you ditch your phone to look over at your whining boyfriend. “You okay there?”

Shit. He must’ve gotten lost in his thoughts. “Yes, I am perfectly fine, darling.”

Now that’s weird. He’s speaking so softly, and he only ever does that after he’s cum at least a few times, or when he’s totally relaxed and ready to call it a night. Well, there are those few times where he lies and he speaks about the same.

Humming, you smile sweetly at him. 

“Are you sure about that, baby boy?”

Oh, that sent a shudder through his body, his white shirt suddenly feeling too thick and his shorts feeling a bit constricting. In other words, he’s now turned on.

He stays quiet, however, because he feels like his voice will give away his actual feelings, whether it continues being soft or it decides to crack and show how he’s ready to give himself away to you.

“Neito. I asked you a question.”

“No, mommy! I-I mean, I don’t know…” He huffed out, embarrassment now outweighing his neediness. God, why did you have to pull out the mommy card?! You’re so wicked. Did you not know how horrible his week was and now you want to be mean to him?

“What do you mean by that, baby?”

“Well, I’ve had a horrible week, mommy! You should know that!” 

“Don’t dare yell at me, Neito. Mommy’s trying to be patient and understanding, but if you’re going to just be a brat, then I should just leave you in time out, right?” Monoma gawked, his whole body and attention turned towards you as you got off of his bed, arms crossed and disappointment showing on your face. Really? You’re disappointed? Just as he opened his mouth to talk back, you spoke first.

“And here I brought one last gift for you. I’m here trying to be such a caring, doting girlfriend, and you start making assumptions about my efforts? Bad boy!”

Wait, gift? These were gifts? Oh! You… you were trying to comfort him? God, guess he was a bad boy. 

Seeing him deflate, eyes losing whatever snark they possessed, you sigh and walk towards your bag near the door. And this made him stand up so quickly he lost his footing and slightly fell forward, shocked that you could be leaving already, which you aren’t. Startled by his sudden movement, you quickly take out a plastic bag and hold it in front of him to show the last gift. 

It was quiet between you two, staring at each other before looking down at what you are holding. 

“What is that?” He’s the first to speak, blinking as he tries to figure out what the dark blue item could possibly be. It’s pleated, though, so-

“Is it the skirt you’ll change into?” And you laugh, shaking your head as you walk back to the bed and sit. 

“Not me, baby. You will change into it.” He’s going to be wearing a skirt? 

Blinking once more in confusion, he giggles awkwardly before frowning. 

“You’re joking, right?” Now it’s your turn to frown.

“No.” And you smile confidently. “I promise, if you wear the outfit in here, it’ll lead us to the actual last gift, hm?” You bat your eyelashes like a little girl asking her dad for a new Barbie doll, or whatever it is they bat their eyelashes for. You’re curious to see what he’ll do.

And you didn’t have to wait long for his decision to be made.

Sitting on your naked lap, thighs trembling in either overexertion or overstimulation, is a certain sweaty, defiled blond male with gorgeous teary, periwinkle eyes trying their best to focus down on you. 

After he swiftly and elegantly changed into the outfit, it came to show on his mirror that this wasn’t some random crop top and skirt combo, but a whole schoolgirl uniform: apart from a cropped school girl top and the pleated navy skirt, there were white thigh highs and cute hair clips. 

Turns out, you misunderstood his ‘subtle’ hints of some kinky schoolgirl skirt sex; you thought he was offering, with the way he’d bat his pretty eyelashes at you and stare at your skirt during lunch. Really, he was implying you stay with it on, somehow. 

Regardless of who was wrong, the fact your pretty boy is squirming uncontrollably with your strap-on deep inside him is something you just have to engrave in your mind. Who knows when you’ll be able to buy another skirt his size? You can’t wait to render it useless.

“Y-You’ve been thin-thinking for too-oo long!” Monoma whines, bringing a hand to wipe away his bothersome tears he doesn’t want you to see, huffing at the end before moaning loudly as you roll your hips upwards, the tip of the dildo teasing his sweet spot.

“Mm, I didn’t say you can speak yet, did I? Guess mommy spoiled you too much.” Sneering, you shift on the bedsheets under you while placing your hands on his thighs, slowly raking your nails upwards. You try your best to avoid the white thigh-high socks, not wanting to make him ticklish and forget why you’re even touching him there. 

Monoma shakingly gasps, squirming even more as he tries to have his pathetic, precum weeping dick grab the attention of either one of your hands but ends up staining the clothing covering it. Rolling your eyes, you smack the hairless skin hard enough to watch it quickly flush red and hear him groan, whether in pain, arousal or both.

“Stop it. You’re making me angry with how selfish you’re being. Isn’t mommy supposed to be satisfied first? Or did you forget our rules, baby?” 

“N-no! No! No, I- no!” Is whining all that he can do? He’s been whining or moaning for the past hour, with the occasional groans or gasps. You don’t want him to only whine, you need to see him cry. 

Cry prettily as he did on Monday when he thought no one was looking back at the dorms.  Watch him struggle to keep his whimpers of humiliation at bay. Make him forget all about his silly pride and stupid competitiveness against a class who doesn’t really see him as a threat, but just a crazy motherfucker (or so says Hagakure.)

“No what, Neito? ‘No mommy! I do know the rules!’ or ‘No mommy! I forgot the rules!’ C’mon, baby. I thought you knew how to speak properly? Now you’re making Bakugou seem eloquent.”

Oh no, you’re upset at him. Monoma gasps in offense, though, at the implication that the anger and pride-driven Bakugou is better than him at speaking. Ouch, okay, that actually kind of hurt but it was kinda hot? Kinda not? What’s wrong with him?

Yeah, what’s wrong with him? You’re expecting him to go on with his speech of how Bakugou isn’t anywhere near his expertise and social skills, how he’s clearly more coherent than the other, or the typical ‘how dare you’ sentences. What you didn’t expect was him to whimper and clasp his hands together as if asking for forgiveness so soon.

“No mo-mommy! I do know! Th-The rules, th-that is! I know ‘em!” 

“Then you’ll stop moving so much and let mommy continue marking you? If you do, and I’ll be repeating this for the last time, Neito, mommy might let you cum first, mm? Sounds good?”

“Ye-ES!” Okay, maybe you should’ve waited until he answered to land another slap on his thighs, although this one was close to his dick. Oh well, at least he’s making other sounds, but no struggle or tears. 

Leaving nail marks around the pale, smooth skin, even carving your name on both thighs with light scratches, you’re in awe at how he’s trying not to move too much. Then again, he is your sweet baby boy, who thrives and gets off of making you proud of him and cumming because of him. 

Lifting your eyes from the satisfying reddening skin to his face, you’re struck with awe again: finally, as if some god were listening to your wishes, you see him blinking rapidly as a new batch of tears quickly accumulate on his lashline and slowly trickle down his red cheeks before being furiously wiped away by him. Seems like this has been going on for a bit, seeing how his eyes are slightly red and his hands, clasped back together, if not tighter, look kind of wet. He didn’t want you to know he was trying not to cry and then failed so beautifully.

Gosh, and here you were expecting him to be a brat, to defy your authority over him, to challenge you like he usually does. 

(If only you had some mind-reading quirk, you would’ve known he actually had been planning his next moves.)

“Good job, baby! You let mommy mark you so pretty with her hands, and look! Mommy’s name is on your thighs, so that next time you touch yourself you won’t forget who you belong to- I mean, who you’re a baby boy for.” 

You’re basking in happiness, in pride, in complete bliss while he thanks you in small whimpers, hips twitching and hole clenching around your strap. Right, you forgot how long he has been cockwarming you; guess he deserves an even better award. He never manages to hold back for so long when sitting on your silicone cock.

Rubbing your palms around his thighs without moving your stare from his face, you command him to put his hands to use and lift the hem of the skirt, getting a good show of a new dribble of precum dropping heavily onto your pelvis. His dick is even shaking just as much as his body, pulsing even more than any other past encounter. It’s also competing against Kirishima’s red hair for the title of the “most red thing ever to exist”. 

Monoma’s opening and closing his mouth, eyebrows furrowed in question and silent begging.

“You can speak now.”

“M-Mommy, you pro-hah-mised t-to make hn-me cu-um!”

“...Watch that tone, little boy.” You glowered before continuing. “Remind mommy what she promised you and explain why you deserve it.”

Now you’re being unfair again and Monoma doesn’t want to deal with how you’re suddenly trying to milk out his responses to the way you want. Crossing his arms and glaring down at you, he mutters, “Wh-why should I? Did y-you forget?” 

Humming, you move your hands to his hips, rubbing your thumb on the cheap material covering them before beginning to lift him off, at least trying to. “Guess mommy should go back to her room since her baby boy decided to be a little bitch.”

“No!” That’s startling on both your ends hearing such a loud, anguished tone come out of him. Bottom lip trembling and quickly putting his hands to grip tightly at the skirt, Monoma holds back a sob. 

“I’m so-sorry, mommy! ‘m not a-a, um, little b-bitch. I’m sorry.” Ending with a whisper, he slowly puts all of his body weight down on your lap, wanting to keep you there and make it impossible to lift him off, and hangs his head in defeat. (Really, it’s because of shame, but you’ll never hear that from him.)

Do you not realize how hard he’s shaking? He can feel his heartbeat in his ears and hear it from his brain. He’s all sweaty and flushed red, his pupils dilate every time you look deep into them. He’s seen the way your eyes light up when glancing at his weeping dick, and he loves how wet it looks, it feels, it sounds, whenever he shifts. 

Most importantly, other than his neglected manhood slowly turning a shade of purple, his prostate has been teased for so long that he just wants to ride you hard enough to find bruises tomorrow and hypothetically ‘destroy your cock’.

“If you’re sorry, you’ll tell me what I want to hear. I’m not going to repeat what I asked for.”

Gulping to ease down the shame building up in his body, he lifts his head enough to catch your gaze before softly responding. 

“Mommy, um, promised I-I get to cum… she’ll m-make me cum if I-I stopped movin’ s’ much.” Goddamn it, Monoma, get yourself together! “I d-deserve this be-because I stopped. Was a g-good ba-um, baby boy.” He loves hates it when you make him do this, even if not often.

Satisfied with the answer you’ll probably only ever hear once and as clear as possible, you nod your head. 

“Then fuck yourself on my cock, Neito.”

No need to repeat yourself. Every little noise he tried so hard to hold back, every twitch and shudder he tried so hard to subdue, every twist of his face to show off the agonizing pleasure is quickly overcoming his insides and dick.

He’s whimpering so loudly, so shamelessly, as he bounces greedily on your lap. Loud and wet skin slapping against each other, and you at first thought, through every lost huff of air, that it’d be his ass connecting to your lube-covered thighs. Instead, your eyes shift towards his crying cock, the way spurts and spurts of precum are left on your lower abdomen, how this furiously blushing extremity keeps slapping itself onto you with every one of his desperate bounces. It’s even wetter than moments ago, you would’ve thought it’d be lube.

Monoma opens his eyes, which seemed to have closed at some point, and looks down at your face, huffing out airy whines of ‘what’, not knowing what you’re looking at. His dick has been wet with his precum for the past hour, so what could be new?

Until he looks down at himself and is mesmerized with how his dick, heavy with unreleased cum and flushed with blood, is tainting and slapping against your beautiful skin with his horny juice- wait, how stupid is he to refer to his precum as ‘horny juice?’ 

Stupid enough to forget to close his mouth and make his built up drool mix in with the mess below, his whimpers and whiny moans turning into high-pitched cries of your name and loud moans, a normal person would worry about their neighbors. The more he stares at himself, the louder he gets and the sloppier his hips gyrate.

Until he suddenly feels the tip of the toy punch against his prostate. 

“Ahn! AGAIN! A-aga-again! Nngain!” Monoma screams, eyes crossing and welling up with old and new built-up tears, ready to drip down. He’s gripping and pulling the hem of his skirt in all directions, his hands never staying still even when a light rip could be heard upon a harsh pull. He recreates the same move, thighs quivering and tensing, begging to be closed. Each accurate hit to his sensitive spot forces out a louder cry and threatens his tears to let loose. 

His movements get sloppier and lazier. Seems like he’s tiring out, which isn’t good. Sure, you’re hoping to make him cry with pretty tears and ugly sobs, but you were also hoping to make him do so repeatedly. Then again, if he’s tired out, there wouldn't be much fight or snark from him and maybe you can still make him cry freely. 

Good thing you know how to execute fantastic sneak attacks against him.

Under the pillow where your head is situated, you reach for a not-so-small device that kind of looks like a walkie-talkie. Monoma sees this when trying to focus his sight, tensing up at the thought that maybe you were recording this for some benefit or blackmail. But why would you want to blackmail your own boyfriend? Had he done something not to your liking?

The answer came in the form of loud buzzing and sudden quaking starting from deep inside him. 

“Wh-wh-wha-what is- hnngh, st-sto-op!”  Monoma wails out, almost falling onto your body with how powerful the vibrations are churning hot inside of him. His vision is getting blurry, blocked by the tears that finally, finally are let go and kiss his cheeks with every hot trail left behind. 

“You, oh, want me to stop?” He can kind of see your wicked grin, the mockery in your tone and amusement oozing out making him let even more tears fall. Why would you want to stop? 

“St-sto-op?! No? N-no! No! P-pluh-plea- nnnghh!” 

Ah, so he’s gone dumb. He doesn’t realize he said to stop. Well, now you can either continue watching him break on your lap and admire the waterfall of precum and fresh tears and make him continue working for his orgasm; or, you can tease him some more while turning up the intensity of the toy, now that it’s pleasuring you for once. The way it tickles your clit is enough to make your panting much more noticeable and thighs tense. You wonder how a setting at 4 could already drag out such reactions from the blond male. Enticed now, you decide to go with the second choice. 

“P-pluh-plea…? Didn’t think y-you’d be stupid! Where did m-my smart-mouthed baby go? Ugh.” 

“N-n’where m’mmy! ‘m h-here- Fuck! Fuck, pl-please! Please! Mo-more? Nngh!”

“You’re slurring, b-baby. But, you a-asked politely.” You hover your thumb over the ‘+’ button, hips grinding upward to drag out some more tears, more cries, more whimpers as you melt into the bed.

“Mommy’s g-gonna count to 10, al-alright? Ugh, then you’ll c-cum, mm. Understand?” 

You’ve never seen so much eagerness come from Monoma before, well, not unless it’s because he knows he’ll win at something or get to prove his worth even more. But the way he nods reminds you of a bobblehead: empty in the head, cute to look at. 

“G-good. Don’t forget t-to keep riding m-mommy’s big, th-thick cock.” You then lower your voice, sending shivers down his spine even with how hot he feels. “Understand?”

You don’t wait to see more of his eager nods. You press down on the button until it reaches the maximum intensity, which makes your hips jolt up so harshly, thrusting the silicon toy back up to him that it’s enough to make him squeal. Now that’s new. 

As much as you’re enjoying how satisfying the stimulation is on your wet cunt, you can’t help but moan out loud Monoma’s name as the boy’s reduced to short-lived squeals and rapid hiccups, so rapid that you’re beginning to think he might be hyperventilating. Worried, you bring your thumb to reduce the intensity before feeling him grind so desperately on your lap. So without any more distractions or hesitations, you quickly begin the countdown.

“Ten.” Monoma repeats with a strained moan, his hands flailing about as he tries to grab purchase onto something, letting go of his ‘forgotten’ skirt.

“N-nine.” Monoma finally plants his trembling hands onto your shoulders, pinning you down enough to give enough strength to his arms. Hovering over you, you frown at his skirt-covered dick. 

“Ei-eight.” Monoma tenses his thighs as much as possible to stop the shaking. Even if it didn’t do much, he begins riding you again with more vigor and desperation than previously. A high-pitched whine of your name quickly leaves him as his sensitive dick receives friction from the fabric covering it, the stain that had dried over time reviving as more precum marks it.

“Seven- shit.” Monoma’s trying to look down at you. He can’t really see much of anything, not with his tears never stopping or his mind not setting back into an intellectual phase. He can barely think to say anything else but lewd chants of your name and ‘please’, ‘more’, ‘faster’. It’s not until he moans out a timid “f-fu-ugh- fuck!” that you pay mind to the rapidly growing heat in your stomach.

“Six! Fuck, Neito!” Monoma’s continuous chants and growing volume suddenly sound babbled as he drools down on you, his saliva hitting your chin before you growl up at him. No words are exchanged as he swallows the liquid that had accumulated, although with difficulty. His thighs are beginning to burn and shake with exhaustion, quaking even worse than when he was cockwarming you. His riding turned into hard bouncing, finally stealing your breath away physically and providing some movement on the other end of the silicone toy to press harder onto your clit. 

“Fi-five!” Monoma’s eyes cross for the second time, staying longer in that position as he chokes on his scream, all because you’re beginning to meet up with your own thrusts. Your feet planted on the bed as you let go of the control for the vibrator, gripping onto his hips tightly to match him with you. You’re beginning to moan so sweetly, gasping out his name loud enough for him to-

“Cl-clo-ose! F-ugh-fuck! Fuck! Clo-oooose!” 

“Ho-hold it! Hold i-it, baby, a-almost the-there!” God, the heat is growing so deep in you that you know this will be violent.

“Four- shiiit.” Monoma’s sobbing now, ever since you told him to hold it. Mission accomplished, so far. He’s blinking rapidly, trying to get rid of the tears and allow him to actually see you. He needs to see your lewd faces, ignoring the fact he is probably rivaling yours. The intense need to cum is building up far too quickly for him to even catch up and he just wants to cum right here, right now. But if he does, you’ll punish him. So, he tries his best to hold it. 

“Three! Three, Neito!” Monoma’s trying so hard to not cum, to not even think about it, but how can he if his prostate is being overstimulated and his cock keeps receiving such familiar friction, enough to make him sob even louder. He’s not going to make it.

“T-two! Lif-ft your sk-skirt!” Monoma can’t or else he’ll fall on you. But you’re grabbing onto him so hard that he hasn’t felt the need to support himself on your shoulders. Using whatever energy he has left, he throws himself up to his old sitting position, making his bouncing sloppier and unsynchronized with your thrusts. He quickly grabs onto the wet hem, biting his lip as he tries to swallow and control his sobs. Lifting it, he’s rewarded with the sight of his slick covered cock, so red and noticeably throbbing that his eyes slightly roll to the back of his head.

“One! Fuck, one!” Monoma’s mouth opens wide, his throat constricting as every choked moan and cry tries to escape while his ass begins to tighten alarmingly fast around the toy. He jumps when he feels something wrap around him, quickly looking down at himself again to see, then feel, you viciously stroke him. And that does it.

“Cum.”

Monoma gasps as he relaxes his thighs and lets go. One more hit to his prostate and he’s…

He’s quiet.

Your eyes are as wide as dinner plates as you watch him reach his orgasm: on you, in all his beautiful glory, is Monoma Neito. A guy whose back is arched at a certain angle you’re sure it’s uncomfortable. A guy whose nipples are completely being seen through the drenched crop top. A guy whose mouth is leaking trails of drool, but not as much as his eyes are leaking streams of unstoppable tears. A guy whose face is so red and sweaty, his bangs are striking to the skin and his eye color pops out more. A guy whose only warning of his cum leaving his body, as much as his soul had, is to roll his eyes so violently to the back of his head and convulse forward.

You forget about your orgasm as you try your best to support his body in the current position, not wanting him to fall on you or backward. Well, maybe you should’ve let him fall onto you.

His cum spurts seem to be gold medal Olympians in ‘how far can we reach’ and ‘how much can we be’. The first one barely misses your eyes, but the second one hits you on the forehead. With each spurt leaving his twitching cock, Monoma hiccups whiney and loud words of gratitude and mercy, hips jumping up, torso jolting forward. His knuckles are white upon the unforgivable grip he has on his absolutely ruined skirt, slowly but surely being dirtied with each load forced out of him with the still-buzzing toy inside him.

This whole scene is enough to remind you about turning down the intensity of the vibrations while grinding slowly, both to help milk him out his incredibly overwhelming high and to bring you back to the tip of paradise. 

By the time he’s done, he nearly collapses on you but first lifts himself, somehow, off of the toy before leaning back onto your lifted thighs. He’s still twitching, the color of his face slowly coming back as his eyes dry up from the tears. The socks have moved a bit down on his legs and most of the pretty hello-kitty themed hair clips are barely fastened on his hair. You’re pretty sure some are littered around the bed.

Monoma’s eyeing his mess curiously and taking in a cum-covered you before he scoops up some of his cum, tastes himself and you both moan softly. You turn the toy off, still rolling your hips as much as possible to ride out your harsh, hot, and wet orgasm. You’re pretty sure you somehow squirted, but that doesn’t matter too much right now. 

Because the moment Monoma came back to his senses and made eye contact with you, you find yourself living in a slow-motion picture: with a shaky hand, he uses the same fingers to write down his first name before scooping up as much of his excess cum and, without any warning, moves forward to thrust his fingers in your mouth, dragging the pads of his fingertips down onto your tongue as you swallow. 

Pulling his fingers out slowly while giggling breathlessly, his signature smirk grows onto his blissed-out face.

“H-how do I ta-taste, m-mommy?”

[peachsayshi]

Chapter 12 - Muse

Tags: Friends with Benefits, Smut, Fluff, Rough Sex (Light but Consensual), Light Degradation, Role-play (Reader In French Maid Outfit), Oral Sex (Male Receiving), Making Out With Gojo, NSFW, Unprotected Sex

Summary: You keep your promise to Gojo and the two of you enjoy a little bit of roleplaying.

A/N: I know it's been a while since I posted last. Here is the updated chapter (she is kind of long) and it's basically 5% plot where everything else is smut. I have been reading this same thing for over a week and spent most of today editing, so I hope it's fine! Please keep in mind again that I do not have a beta, and will highly miss a lot of things or even misspell them. I hope you enjoy the chapter!  Requests are still open! I currently write for Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Toji, Sukuna and Choso. Please make sure I can see your age on your profile, otherwise you will be ignored (minors dni) 

- - - 

(Three Years Ago)

“Looks like someone is being spoiled…”

You glanced around your apartment that has been completely decorated in flowers. You started grinning like an idiot thinking of Haru’s promise to give you a garden before replying, “ it’s a long story... ”

“ Soo , things worked out after the failed anniversary dinner?” Gojo questioned, noticing the way you shyly bit your bottom lip as you returned your attention back onto the T.V. screen.

“ Yes, they did …” you answered casually, still holding that pretty smile on your lips. You were clicking the button on the remote as you switched between movies to pick one to watch for the evening. “I don’t think I gave you the full update…”

Gojo took a sip of his melon soda, before leaning back comfortably against your couch. “No you did not. Last time we spoke you told me you were going away for the weekend. So tell me, how did prince charming work his way back into your good graces?”

Hakone , the weekend getaway; memories of you and Haru’s trip flooded back to your mind. The onsen experience, strolling through nature by day, visiting art galleries and losing sleep at night just to make love…

“It was… perfect.” you whispered breathlessly, your heart skipping a beat after you gave Gojo the brief explanation.

“ How romantic… ” the sorcerer replied, doing little to hide the hint of sarcasm in his tone.

You rolled your eyes at his comment, nudging your elbow playfully into his stomach. “Don’t be such a killjoy…”

From behind his dark frames, Gojo was reading your body language when you spoke. He pressed his lips together, not wanting to take away the happiness you were basking in and burying the thought that lingered his mind.

“You really love him, don’t you?” he asked again, his eyes glued onto you as he patiently waited for your reply.

Your cheeks went warm and your reaction was to adorably bury your face into the palm of your hands, desperately trying to fight off the butterflies swarming in your stomach. You leaned back on the couch next to your friend, dropping your hands down by your sides as you tilted your neck to face him.

“ Hopelessly so… ”

Gojo swallowed hard, a sinking sensation pummeled through his gut upon hearing your words. Your eyes flickered when you noticed how his expression hardened but he quickly switched to a big grin.

“As long as you’re happy … ” he reassured, giving you a thumbs up.

“I am, very much so …”

“ Good!” Gojo replied, but the word tasted sour in his mouth and he quickly changed the subject. “Now let’s get back to picking our movie…”

What the hell am I supposed to do now? he thought to himself, the disappointment weighing heavy on his heart.

I can’t tell her yet…

I’ll just have to wait...

(Present)

Gojo was exhausted. His day was tiresome and everything seemed to be getting on his last nerves. His morning started off on a bad note thanks to the higher ups. Itadori Yuji swallowing one of Sukuna’s fingers was not what he expected but now he had a problem on his hands involving the life of another teenager.

A talented kid at that, Itadori definitely had potential...

Gojo was good at hiding his frustrations from his students, and even from some of his peers. However, the minute he stepped into the lobby of his apartment building, the weight of his day came crashing down on his shoulders. He exited the elevator, slowly making his way over towards his apartment door but paused for a second before entering inside the safe haven of his home.

He immediately sensed your presence.

You called him earlier when he was at the school, asking if you could stop by his place to pick up something that you had forgotten.

“Just ask the security to let you in, I’ll give them a heads up and inform them... ” Gojo distractedly replied before ending the call.

He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly to himself, thinking that maybe you decided to stick around and hang out at his place.

“What are you still doing here?” he asked, as he stepped through the threshold of his front door. “Did you really miss me that mu-uhhhhhh…”

Gojo dropped his keycard on the floor, his mouth agape as he took in the sight of you standing before him. His heart literally stopped beating for a whole second and the sorcerer found himself frozen in the entrance of his living room.

“ Gojo-san,” you purred, turning your heel from the large glass window you were wiping and smiling as you faced him directly. “ You’re home...”

Catching the great Gojo Satoru by surprise was something rare but you managed to do it with ease because he always had his guard down around you.

Gojo admired the outfit you were wearing. Your black dress was short, very short, with the bodice buttoned all the way up to your neck and little puffy sleeves covering your shoulders. The white apron you were wearing over it was trimmed with little frills, matching the detailing along the collar. His mouth went dry when he reached your legs covered in a pair of stockings but he noticed the single garter wrapped around your thigh adorned with a tiny bow. You were wearing black pointed high heels to match the ensemble, adding a decent amount of inches to your height. The cherry on top was the white silky headband that was pulling back your beautiful hair.

Gojo had given up on your promise weeks ago, thinking there was no possible way you might actually follow through with his idea.

Yet, here you were , dressed up in a french maid outfit.

You placed the cloth in your hand in the basket on your floor. Your heels clicking against the wooden surface and echoing around his quiet penthouse apartment as you approached him, holding your head high as you confidently nestled into the role you were playing.

You gripped his attention, but couldn’t see how shocked he was from behind his dark sunglasses. As you stood in front of him you bent down to pick up the key card before elegantly standing upright and holding it up to his face.

“You dropped this,” you stated quite matter of factly, batting your lashes at him innocently.

The man had been rendered speechless.

You raised your brow as the seconds passed, waiting for Gojo to say... something.

He could sense your heart beat increase, as you shifted your weight from one leg to the other and you nervously glanced away from his direction. You dropped the act for a minute as you placed your hands around your waist to look down at the outfit you were wearing.

“ Uhm … did I do this wrong ? This is the only outfit I could find online that was even close to the idea you had and it took weeks to actually get here. I can...I can try to find another dress if this isn’t what you li-”

Gojo cupped your face in his hands, interrupting your comment and tilting your head up so you were looking at him as he snapped himself out of the trance you seemed to have put him under.

“No! No, no no …you look… fuck… you just caught me by surprise…” he replied, a wave of excitement rushing through him as he stumbled over his words. He proceeded to lower his sunglasses so you were met with azure eyes, softening his gaze as a cheeky grin spread across his gorgeous face. “You look ...perfect…”

He stretched out that last word, ensuring to savour every part of you. Your face grew warm but you couldn’t help but smirk with approval that all your hard efforts into this costume worked their magic on your friend.

“Really?” you questioned in a hopeful tone, reaching for his wrist and giving him a squeeze. “I’m glad! You worried me for a second…”

Gojo leaned forward to kiss you, the heavy weight he bore when he stepped into his home dissipating as he tasted you on his tongue. Once he had his fill of you, he broke away from the kiss before casually walking backwards and instructing, “don’t mind me, I’m just going to step out for a second so we can properly start this over…”

You giggled before turning around and making your way back to your position next to his window. Gojo noticed your white slip peak from under your skirt, and he gently bit down on his knuckle unable to contain his own anticipation.

This is going to be fun, he thought.

When he stepped back inside his apartment it was with a totally different demeanor. He cleared his throat as he made his way over, noticing your face playfully light up before repeating your initial greeting:

“ Gojo-san, you’re home... ”

***

One hour.

You had the man stirring for an entire hour.

Gojo didn’t think you would take this as seriously as you did but you were putting on a performance for him.

At first he sat in the living room, watching you mindlessly wipe his spotless windows and bending over ever so slightly for him to peep under your skirt. He impatiently tapped his finger against his thigh, knowing full well that he was not allowed to touch you unless you touched him first .

That was the rule you both agreed on.

When Gojo realised that you weren’t planning on giving in so easily, he used the moment as an opportunity to change out of his uniform but that didn’t stop you from being a tease.

While he was in his room, he switched to a pair of comfortable sweatpants and just as he was about to slip on his hoodie, you barged into his bedroom.

“ I’m sorry to intrude…” you announced innocently, sauntering your way over with your eyes lingering on his abdominal muscles and lifting up his half-filled laundry basket. “ I just needed to wash these…”

Gojo pressed his tongue to his cheek, shaking his head at you as he moved to his drawer to replace his shades with his blindfold, knowing full well you were going to draw this out for as long as you can.

Maybe this is payback…

Gojo returned to the living room, his eyes fixated on the television screen as a way to distract himself from you.

After you did a few meaningless chores, you picked up the feather duster from your equipment basket and directed yourself into his line of sight. You began to “ dust ” off his shelves, swaying your hips deliberately from side to side as you walked in front of him.

“ I hope you don’t mind me in your way, Gojo-san …” you said serenely, flicking the duster over the random items on his shelf.

“Not at all…” the sorcerer replied, his voice smooth as silk when he spoke. “But you should know you missed a spot…”

You raised your brow as you glanced over your shoulder to meet his stare.

“ Oh ?”

Gojo spread his legs further apart, resting his long arm on the back of the sofa before bringing his other hand forward to point high on his shelf.

“Right there,” he indicated.

You hummed to yourself, knowing full well that Gojo wanted to see more of what you were hiding underneath your outfit. As you stood on your tiptoes, you deliberately arched your back to stick out your rear in his direction.

Gojo trapped his bottom lip between his teeth, humming in approval and deciding in that moment just how he plans on eventually fucking you in this cute outfit of yours.

“A little higher…” he commanded, forcing you to stand on your tiptoes as you “cleaned” his top shelf, and he felt himself harden against his pants when the fabric of your dress just barely covered your ass.

The minutes passed, dragging slowly until the sorcerer found himself growing impatient. The longer you were making him wait, the more cruel he was planning on delivering his own punishment in return.

“May I get you some water, Gojo-san?” you asked him, snapping him out of his own thoughts as you made your way over to the kitchen. “You look a little thirsty…”

Oh yes, he definitely wasn’t going to hold himself back…

“ Please…” he said through gritted teeth.

You made your way over to the kitchen, pulling out one of the random trays he had and placing a glass right in the middle. You fill it up with ice before pouring in the water, then lifting up the tray and making your way over to him.

“ Here you go…” you offered, but instead of picking up the glass with your fingers, you deliberately knocked it over, allowing the cool liquid to pour all over Gojo’s lap.

The man hissed, surprised that you caught him off guard yet again with your tactic. The water pooled between his thighs, making his muscles tense up even more.

You captured your bottom lip between your teeth, the goosebumps running up and down your arms when you noticed the outline of his dick against his sweatpants.

Staring at him with your knowing, apologetic eyes, you proceeded to say, “I’m so sorry, let me get something to help you dry up…”

When you returned, you found your place down on your knees in front of him. You pressed the dry towel against his inner thigh, earning a grunt in response because your touch was close to his growing erection.

Your other hand glided up his calf, sending your message across as Gojo’s eyes widened when that same hand replaced the towel.

Fucking finally, he thought, no longer frustrated by his own desire or the fact that he was now soaking wet.

“I can dry these with the rest of the clothes…” you explained, lifting yourself upright on your knees. “I’m going to have to take these off..”

You hooked your hands around the waistband of his sweats, pulling them down his lean legs and removing them.

“What about these?” Gojo asked, tilting his head towards his tented boxers. “I’m soaked all the way through…”

“ Uhm… of course!” you chirped, as you removed the second article of clothing. “I’ll get these dry for you right away…”

As you tried to stand up, Gojo reached for your forearms and dragged you back down on the rug.

“What about this?” he asked, directing your attention towards the length of his swollen cock.

“I-I don’t know if I can help you with that,” you teased, averting your gaze as you feigned shyness.

“I pay you to use your hands, don’t I?” Gojo questioned.

“ Yes, Gojo-san …”

“Then you should do whatever it takes.”

Gojo could have sworn he saw you smirk but you were swift to hide your reaction. You brought your hand to his length as you began to stroke upward, circling your thumb around his swollen tip. Your other hand teasingly traced a vein up and down his shaft, and Gojo exhaled as his body relaxed against his plush sofa.

You squeezed his cock, feeling the width of his hard member as you continued teasing his head. You spread the pre-cum all over the tip, before bringing your lips down and replacing your thumb with your tongue as you swirled around the head before finally sealing your mouth over him.

You gently suck, your cheeks hollowing but you remain focused on just his head. The hand that isn’t holding his shaft moved to his thigh, where you gave him an eager squeeze as you tasted him in your mouth.

Meanwhile, Gojo leaned his head back against the sofa, closing his eyes as he hummed with relief. The low rumble of his voice spread down his abdomen, and your ears perked upon hearing his satisfied reaction.

You released him with a pop, before adjusting your position so your forearms were now resting over his thighs.

Gojo was average in thickness but his length definitely made up for it and you wanted to get comfortable before taking him all the way in.

You guided him into your mouth, easing him down inch by inch as you bobbed over his impressive length. Your hands pressed into his thighs, a small whimper escaping you as your teeth grazed lightly over his cock while you expertly worked him.

“You keep doing this and I might consider increasing your pay…” Gojo murmured, half-drunk with arousal as he began losing himself to you.

You quickened your pace, ignoring the discomfort in your jaw as you let him fuck your mouth. Gojo reached his hand to the back of your neck, gently stroking you with his slender fingers as encouragement. His chest began to rise and fall as his breathing grew heavier.

“ Keep going …” he coaxed, his voice shaking and growing tender. He rolled his hips in rhythm to your movement while your hands began massaging his legs and working their way high up to his pelvis.

His fingers curled around your hair, your throat burning but you kept going not wanting to disappoint your esteemed employer.

“ Mmm , F-fuck… ” he whined, his words sweet in your ears as he reached his peak.

Gojo’s hips bucked into you and he held you in place, releasing thick ropes of cum in the back of your throat as he moaned.

His grip was tight around your head and you tried not to gag as you swallowed everything he gave you. You slowly retracted him out of your mouth, desperately catching your breath in between small coughs as you settled yourself.

“Such a beautiful mess…” Gojo complimented as he looked down at you from where he was sitting.

Your chin was covered with  your saliva, your perfectly styled hair unraveling from his grip and your smokey eye makeup smudged. Gojo flicked his fingers in his direction, ordering you to get on his lap.

Your knees hurt when you stand up, the cheap fabric of your stockings already wearing from the friction against the rug. You spread your legs as you straddled him, lifting the hem of your dress up as you adjusted your position.

“ Well, well…what have we here… ” he cooed when you flashed him. “Hold your dress up for me…”

Your face grew hot but you obediently obliged as you bunched up the dress to your waist, giving Gojo a full view of your stockings that covered your bare pussy.

Gojo dragged his index finger along your slit, your arousal stringing on the tip of his finger as he pulled away from you.

You were completely soaked through.

“ Do you always show up to work without any underwear on?” he teased, bringing his finger back between your legs  and pushing the material of your stockings between your lips.

“Only when I know I am seeing you…” you replied seductively.

“Is that so?” Gojo mused, biting his bottom lip as he focused on his finger circling your folds. “How professional…”

“Actually I'm very unprofessional. I have something to confess, Gojo-san …” you whispered, dropping your dress as you placed your hands on his broad shoulders. You leaned forward, brushing your lips against his ear before stating, “…I touch myself whenever you’re not home .”

Gojo froze his movements. You were doing everything he described when talking about this particular fantasy: the hot maid that he comes home to who teases him into fucking her.

Oh, and you were playing the role beautifully.  

“Did you do that today?” The man questioned, directing it towards you and not the character you were pretending to be.

You giggled in his ear, “ twice .”

A deep chuckle rumbled in his chest, his free hand that wasn’t between your legs reached for his blindfold. He lifted the fabric, where a pretty blue iris was staring at you with sheer adoration.

“ Oh, angel, you continue to surprise me…”

“None of that, yet…” you announced, covering his eye as you pulled his wrist away. “ We’re still playing, Gojo-san.”

On that reply, Gojo reached for the band of your stockings. He ripped the flimsy fabric with his strong hands, tearing it straight down the middle before picking you up and laying your back against the arm rest.

“I’m going to have to start putting security cameras around the place,” he added, getting back into the role as he slipped off his hoodie. “But I think I would prefer seeing you with my own eyes…”

He instantly noticed the way you checked him out, your gaze hungry for his body. He lifted up your dress, bunching it up at the waist to reveal your torn undergarment. Your sweet pussy was glistening with your arousal and Gojo licked his lips with anticipation. He raised one of your legs over the sofa, leaving the other  to dangle off the side and exposing you completely to him.

“ Touch yourself.”

You brought your fingers to your fold, working your throbbing clit as you closed your eyes. Your body was electric, riled up to the point where you were already so sensitive as you rubbed yourself. Soft whimpers left your lips and Gojo held your knees apart as he watched you masturbate.

“Are you always this quiet?” He teased, “A dirty slut like you begging to be fucked…I’m sure you get louder than that…”

If you weren’t so heated by everything that was going on, you would have been caught off guard by what he was saying but instead you moaned at his derogatory words.

The character you were playing began blending in his mind with your own person, his dear friend, and the thought of you eagerly pleasing him made the blood rush between his legs, his arousal making him harden again.

“You hear that?” Gojo continued, knowing full well how much you enjoy his dirty talk and pointing out the way your pussy squelched as your fingers drove themselves inside you. “You’re so fucking wet and I hardly even touched you. Are you that needy already? Are you that desperate for someone to fuck this pussy of yours?”

“Y-yes…”

“Do you call out my name when you make yourself come? Do you beg for it?”

“ Mmmm, yes, Gojo-san…want you so bad …”

“If you want me to fuck you, you little slut , you’re going to have to tell me how much you want it…”

You gasped, your free hand reaching to massage your breast over your uniform as you finally opened your hazy eyes to meet Gojo’s. Your heart was racing, your body gyrating against his sofa as you slipped your fingers between your folds.

“ Mmahh, Gojo-san, I want you to fuck me on this couch. I want to feel you inside me. P-please, I need you inside me…so fucking bad…I can’t…I ca-” you voice pitched as you increased the speed of your movements, rolling your hips in circles and your dropped your head back against the arm rest.

You came all over your fingers, your orgasm hitting you hard, as you sang your noises of pleasure. You were trembling against the chair, panting heavily as you pulled your fingers from between your legs.

Gojo flipped you on your stomach, unable to hold himself back any longer. Your hands were on the arm rest, your knees pressed into the plush cushion as you spread yourself as wide as you could for him. Usually, Gojo would enjoy taking this time to lick your sweet cunt clean but he was barely holding on himself after what he witnessed.

The tip of his cock teased your lips, before he slipped himself inside you with ease, coating his entire length with your arousal. Your eyes widened as you looked at him over your shoulder with slight panic.

“Satoru, you’re not wearing a…”

“I’ll pull out…” he replied, holding your hips up before snapping roughly into you.

You were dizzy, completely functioning on your urges without giving logic any thought. If it was anyone else, you would have stopped but Gojo wasn’t just anybody and the man had quite the control over his own body.

You cried out feeling your walls clench around him. He was moving hard and fast, fucking you roughly on his sofa, with every push harder than the last and leaving your legs trembling as you tried your best to hold yourself in place for him.

He drags his length out of you, ensuring that you felt every inch before wildly plunging back inside. You could feel yourself dripping down your thighs against your stockings, your nails digging into the sofa as you whimpered.

Your drenched cunt made it so much easier for Gojo to fuck you but his slightly sadistic mind was forcing you to feel it more.

Your toes curled inside your pointed heels, your back arching as speckles of black clouded your vision. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as your hips jerked when your orgasm compounded into you, making you drop down to your forearms as you were unable to counter your explosive release.

Gojo was covered in your juices and with a few sloppy thrusts he finally pulled himself out before finishing himself off by pumping spurts of cum all over your back, decorating your outfit with his release.

The man didn’t stop there. Instead, he flipped you onto your back bringing his hands to the buttons of the top half of your dress and ripping it apart.

Your chest was bare, covered in a bra that he tugged down until it was resting underneath your breasts. He brought his insatiable lips to your mound, rolling your pointed nipple between his thumb and index finger before closing his mouth over the other nub.

You were shaking underneath him, unable to handle any more stimulation as he pinched one nipple and peppered the other with kitten licks.

Gojo did it until he was hard again, leaving marks all over your breasts as he pushed himself inside you. He held your legs apart but you barely had anymore energy to keep up with him. Instead you kept him motivated with your pleasured mewls, praising him for all his glory.

“ Harder, please…harder….”

Gojo stopped, holding himself inside you and feeling you pulsate against him. He ensured to drag the seconds out making you whimper with impatience as you were desperate to have him continue.

“ Gojo-saaan…” you pleaded, tears pricking  your eyes as you wailed for mercy. “Don’t stop fucking-ahhhhhhh …”

You couldn’t even finish until he was thrusting inside you again. Fucking you to the heavens and back with the same intensity he did earlier. When he pulled out of you as he climaxed, he finished himself off all over your cunt, marking you with his essence.

***

Steam covered the glass door surrounding you, the warmth engulfing your body as you and Gojo stood in the hot shower together. Your body was sore but in the most pleasant way possible and you allowed the water droplets to massage your skin, closing your eyes as you exhaled and enjoying the amazing pressure from Gojo’s  shower.

You only opened your eyes when you felt Gojo’s large palm on your stomach, bringing you into his torso as he leaned down and kissed your ear.

“Did you have fun?”

The knot in the pit of your stomach twisted, sending shivers down your back from his question. He treated you with so much kindness after you both slept together. He sang you praises, telling you over and over how good you were to him as he took his time to clean you up, not allowing you to even lift a single finger while he used the time to focus on taking care of you instead.

You turned around to face him, your eyes gazing up at that unjustifiably handsome face that was uncovered because he had his hair slicked back.

“Surprisingly, I did…” you teased with a smile, placing your hands on him, as you delicately traced your fingers up and down his forearms.

His height was overbearing now that you didn’t have your heels on, and the sorcerer found himself tilting down just to look at you. His fingers pressed into your lower back as the silence filled the space between you both. Gojo used it as an opportunity to bring his lips down to meet yours, indulging himself with a kiss. He picked you up in his strong arms, before holding you against the grey tile of his bathroom wall. You moaned into his mouth, playing with his tongue as your hands reached for his neck.

“So, tell me, angel… ” he whispered into your mouth in between a kiss. “What kind of fantasies do you have?”

“Uhm, I don’t really have any fantasies…”

You felt his fingers underneath your chin, tilting your head back so you were looking him in the eye.

“You know, if you tell me , I can return the favor…” he stated, flashing his pearly whites as he gave you an easy grin.

“You’ll think it’s stupid…”

“Try me.”

You rested your head against the tile, playing with the back of Gojo’s hair as you cleared your throat.

“Uhm, so , back in college there was this professor that I had. He was extremely good looking, I think everybody in our class had a crush on him. I realised I did too because everytime I would try speaking with him, I always jumbled up my words or said the wrong thing. It was super awkward…I mean, he wasn’t awkward but I definitely was…”  

A small laugh escaped you but Gojo was still listening attentively.

“Anyway, I never told anyone. I was with Haru and always felt like I was being a terrible girlfriend because I was just so attracted to my professor. He was also the sweetest guy, was married and had three kids…” you sighed as Gojo grazed his hand across your thigh, blushing before admitting, “…but I used to think about him taking me on his desk all the time. Like, it got to the point where I had to drop his class because he was too much of a distraction…”

Gojo chuckled, “oh, you dirty slu-OW!”

You tugged at his earlobe, pouting to stop yourself from laughing at his snide comment.

“That’s what you get,” you replied, before loosening your grip and dropping your hand to his pecs.

“Relax, it takes a slut to know one. There is no need to get offended!” he teased, shifting the joke onto himself and you couldn’t help but giggle. “Okay, so you’ve got a little thing for a teacher/student scenario?”

“Just a little…”

Gojo brought his lips to your neck, planting small kisses upwards until he murmured against your ear.

“As a teacher myself, it will be my utmost pleasure to be your sensei for an evening,”

“You don’t have to…”

“You're not forcing me, angel. I want to,” Gojo insisted, his lips now hovering above yours. “Besides, I’m your friend, right ? We take care of each other, that’s what friends do.”

You nodded in agreement, your eyes dropping down to his lips as you patiently waited to taste him on your tongue.

“Since you did a stellar job with me tonight, let me do the same for you… ” he whispered, taking your bottom lip between his teeth and nipping at it gently.

You squeezed your legs tighter around his torso as you held him close, feeling faint when Gojo kissed you again like he was pulling the oxygen straight out of your lungs.

And yet, you had no desire to let him go.

***

CHAPTER 13: SPINNING

[spunky-89]

All Power (Kol Mikaelson x Female Reader)

A/N: Woo a new fic! Cause updating or finishing old WIPs is apparently not as cool. Also, this fic is a bit of a crossover from Teen Wolf, not anything like major, just some references and such.

Word Count: 1.8 k

Warnings: None that I can think of

The air was tense in the courtyard as Kol stood protectively in front of his lover, facing off against his pain-in-the-ass hybrid brother. Elijah stood between the two trying to keep them from tearing each other apart. Freya was off to the side holding herself, feeling guilty for starting this disagreement.

“You come anywhere near her Nik and I swear it will be the last thing you do.” Kol threatened.

“I don’t like liars, especially not in the house where my daughter sleeps,” Klaus growled.

“You really think I wouldn’t make sure that my girlfriend had no ill intent towards my niece? Do you think that low of me brother?”

“Enough, both of you,” Elijah spoke, turning slightly to look at his youngest brother and his lover. “Now, would you care to share what this ruckus is all about?”

“I don’t know, ask Nik.” Kol spat, rage in his eyes.

“You stand there and make me the bad guy when it is your pet human that is lying and has been her whole time with us.” Klaus proclaimed.

“And how do you know this Niklaus?” Elijah inquired.

“Because I sensed it,” Freya spoke up, moving closer to the brewing storm.

“Sensed what Freya?” Kol snapped, becoming more and more fed up with the current situation.

“Something… off,” She tried, struggling to find the words.

“You need to do better than that sister, or else this is a waste of time because you have no grounds to accuse my girlfriend of anything.”

“Enough.” The woman came out from her position behind Kol and came to stand next to him. “Please just stop, all of you.” She requested.

“Darling?” Kol gave her a questioning look and she gave a heavy sigh.

“She isn’t wrong, I’m not human,” She started, avoiding eye contact and staring at the ground. “Well, not entirely human I should say.” She then looked to Klaus, “I’m honestly surprised you didn’t sense it. I mean typically wolves have a sense for this sort of thing.” She remarked.

“Get to the point, my patients is waning fast,” Klaus warned. As he did so, Kol took a threatening step forward, only to be stopped by a hand on his arm.

“Okay, calm down. The short version is I’m a werewolf.” The woman stated plainly.

“You can’t be, you’ve never turned on a full moon,” Kol stated, looking to his girlfriend in confusion.

“That’s because I’m a different breed and I’ve learned to control it.” She then gave a bashful smile at him and said, “I also happen to have an amazing anchor that keeps me grounded.”

“That’s it,” Klaus growled and sped at the supposed werewolf and pinned her to the wall, his eyes glowing golden. “Who are you?”

She saw Kol move to intervene but she shot him a look to let her handle this. She smirked as she took a deep breath and closed her eyes, opening them to reveal her eyes were glowing a vibrant purple, wolfish features taking over her face slightly. And before Klaus could make a comment or move, she dug her claws deep into his side and rake them upwards, causing him to release her in shock. She used that moment to roundhouse kick him away from her.

“Who am I? Well, I’m someone you really don’t want to piss off.” She huffed, fixing her clothes.

Kol was looking at her wide-eyed, never having seen her like that before. He watched in fascination as her face shifted back to the one he loved so much, though the claws on her hands didn’t disappear.

While Kol was focused on her, she was focused on Klaus. She knew she just poked the sleeping bear, or well in this case wolf. She acted casual, but she was ready for a full-fledged brawl. She heard him let out a chuckle, and her heart went icy cold. She knew that kind of chuckle. It was the kind that told her she’d just pissed him off and he was amused by her attempt to hurt him.

“That was a neat trick, love,” He said as he stood back up to his regular height. “But you’ll have to do a lot better than that if you want to hurt me.” He growled as his eyes flared and he started to rush towards the woman. Before he could even get close Kol threw him to the other side of the courtyard.

“I told you Nik, not a hair.” He seethed, standing protectively in front of his girlfriend, who was now minorly terrified and clutched onto the back of his jacket.

“Maybe I should just go,” She murmured to Kol.

“Nonsense, you are still welcome here,” Elijah promised.

Klaus had gotten up and was getting ready to argue when Elijah cut him off.

“Why don’t we give the lady the benefit of the doubt. As it stands, if she had wanted to harm any of us she’s had ample opportunities to do so and has not. We shall hear her out before we jump to any more conclusions.” He stated, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Everyone was slow to move, but eventually, all were gathered in the seating area.

“What do you want to know?” The woman asked, practically perched in Kol’s lap.

“First off, how is there another breed of werewolf?” Elijah asked.

“Well, there’s actually a few. I’m from the French line of werewolves, whereas your brother is of the North American breed. As far as I know, the only other breed is English wolves. But there are many different shifters out there from many cultures. Kitsune, for example, come from Japan.” She explained as best as she could.

“How is it we’ve never heard of any other wolves or shifters before?” Freya asked.

“That I am unsure of, but I’ve met loads of different shifters and other creatures. Where I come from, it’s practically a beacon for supernaturals.”

“And you can control your shifts?” Kol piped up.

“Well for the most part. The way French wolves and shifters work is that you can shift at any time, not just on the full moon. But the full moon makes us more susceptible to turning. But for older wolves, it becomes easier to control your shifts. Whereas baby wolves tend to be much more at risk of turning uncontrollably.”

She then spent the next hour or so explaining the differences between the different wolf breeds and other supernatural creatures, although she never really explained what she was. It was actually Kol that brought up the question.

“Me? Well, I’m kinda a special case. I’m a werewolf, but well, an extremely rare one. It’s why I didn’t tell you who or what I was.” She explained, clearly nervous to reveal who she was. But with one squeeze of the hand from Kol, she sighed and started speaking, “I am the twin sister of Scott McCall, the True Alpha. I am his opposite in most cases which makes us an elite team that is nearly unbeatable. So I am what is called a Compliment Alpha. Part alpha, part beta, all power. It’s why my eyes are purple. It combines the red of an alpha’s eyes and the blue of a beta’s.” She explained, once again flashing her eyes.

“Does that satisfy you Nik? Or does she have to go through her life story before you trust her?” Kol asked, seemingly done with his girlfriend being interrogated.

“I swear to you I am no threat to your family. I didn’t even know of your existence until Kol revealed who and what he was. Vampires are kinda new territory for me. This is not some evil plot to harm you or any Mikaelson. You all have become my new pack, and you don’t hurt your own pack.” She swore.

“I shall allow you to stay, but be warned little wolf, I see even the slightest hint of your inevitable betrayal and I will end you and your brother.” Klaus threatened, but instead of being scared she just gave him a smile.

“I would expect nothing less.” She teased as she stood from the couch. “But just so you know, my old pack and I are hard to kill. Trust me, many have tried, yet here I am.”

Kol stood as well and took her hand as they left for her apartment on the other end of town. He pulled her close by her shoulder and kissed her head as they walked out of the compound.

-----------

When they finally made it back to her apartment, he could see her noticeably relax.

“I have to say, darling, I’ve never seen you kick ass before but I would love to see it again,” Kol murmured as he wrapped his arms around her waist and laid kisses on her neck. She giggled and tried to push him away.

“Stooop,” She whined as she tried to wiggle out of his grip.

Kol, unfortunately, refused to let her go and held her tighter as he relished in her laughter. Moments like this were his favorite because there was just joy in the air. All troubles forgotten and burdens lifted to make room for the contentment he felt when he was with her.

The two settled down on the couch and just sat cuddled up in silence for a while. Kol was the first to break it after about half an hour.

“Would you have ever told me?” He asked, looking down at his lover who suddenly seemed very interested in the couch.

She sighed and sat up. She hated this. She knew he would eventually ask this. And she dreaded it because she didn’t have a good answer. But she knew she had to give him something.

“Honestly, I don’t know,” She started, “My identity and my secret is the reason why I ran here in the first place. The danger became too great for my brother and me to stay together. We had to separate, at least for a little while. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.” She paused as she recalled the day she had to say goodbye to her mother and brother. The physical pain she felt when she got on the plane without him. “I was scared.” she admitted, “I trust you, and I wanted to tell you so many times, but…”

“But what darling? Cm’on darling, I just want to know.”

“If my identity was found out, I would have had to leave again. Which would mean leaving you. And I couldn’t- I can’t lose you too. It would break me. Shatter me to a point that I would become volatile and dangerous to those who came across me. Because my heart’s been broken a few too many times for me to be able to come back from that.” She said quietly, not realizing that tears had begun to stream down her face.

Kol pulled her back into his arms and just held her.

“I swear to you my love, no one will keep me from you. Not even my brother.” He vowed.

[spiltscribbles]

Prompt: Pro Athlete Sirius because that my and Remus' kink

~Notes: OMFG VICTOrIA!!!! I FUCKING SCREECHED!!!! lkadfjlaksdgjoiaejfalskdgjioeugisfkldshg Yes tis my kink as well!!! And then I saw this from Nonny and worlds collided and BOOM! I hope you like this my love<3<3 You incredibly talented sugarplum!!! TBH I want to write a thousand more things in this AU XD

.-

FROM THIS LIST  |  Send Me A Prompt!💜 | A REBLOG MEANS THE GALAXY!!💜

.-

When Remus was young— surrounded by the light breeze of the Welsh coast and the harmony of birds chirping in the distance— he would follow his mother to their small garden behind their cottage  at the cusp of twilight as his father cooked their supper, and he’d watch as she laid flat all sorts of newspapers written in French and Arabic and English, watch as she brought her red pen against the ink and marked the articles with underlines and shorthand he wouldn’t understand for years still.

He asked her once, when he was barely eight years old, why she bothered to keep up with so many different publications, why she read the same story penned by countless perspectives when all the facts stayed the same at the end of the day. And he remembers how she had let out a quick, shrill of a laugh, tossing back her golden head while sucking in a puff from the bubbling hookah she had set up besides her— a habit she acquired from her Algerian, refugee parents, and one that became synonymous to those late nights in Remus’s eyes.

“Facts can be wielded to someone’s personal vendettas, Remus John,” she had crooned in that adoring way of hers whenever she spoke to him— honey eyes that were the same color and shape to Remus’s own flashing alight and their matching smiles going crooked in her stunningly beautiful face. 

“Oh.” Remus had replied, still confused as all get out but was perfectly fine with just holding his small vigil, watching her beneath moonlight and the soft glow of their outdoors lamps, as he listened to the shuffling of papers while she commenced this odd quirk. 

It’s a decade and a half later—  as his editor for the Phoenix, a small, but bustling online editorial that plans on dethroning the likes of Politico and Vox in only a matter of years, scans his latest findings on the corrupt boosters linked to MP Avery from Leeds— when Remus thinks he suddenly understands what his mother, with her keen eyes and pixelated air, had meant by facts in how they can be colored differently simply by the words surrounding them. And he wonders if one day soon, one of his bylines will join her little stack of stories, if she’ll be proud of him even if she says as much even now, when he’s a lost twenty-something stumbling through life in the capitol and barely making it as is, between his actual job and the gig he has at the coffee shop nearest his dingy flat he shares with three other blokes.

“Mmm, this is good, Lupin,” Dorcas declares after what feels like an eon, dropping her long, dark legs from where they were lounging leisurely on her desk and scuffs out her cigarette in a pretty, glass ashtray. “Send it over to Flores to look into deeper, maybe it’ll corroborate the info she’s already gotten from her sources.”

Remus feels himself bristle, hopes that it doesn’t show, that his face stays passive as he contends, “I think I should at least help her write the expose, I’m the one who got this bombshell.”

“That’s not how it works, sweets,” Dorcas toots, tossing back her dark head of curls as she rises, perching on the corner of her desk delicately and looking down, straight into his gaze. “I know it’s frustrating, but you’re fresh blood. barely six months here, but Alice has been with us for years. This is her baby, and we’re just here to nurture it.”

“So I’ll have to wait another ten months, at least,  to get the same treatment?” He argues in an admittedly petulant way, making Dorcas laugh endearingly, and Remus is suddenly,  searingly reminded of his age, and how he’s the youngest staffer that this London based news outlet has on hand. 

“C’mon, love, it won’t be that long for someone as sharp as you, just be patient, and don’t try to pull a Zoe Barnes on us, yeah? You’re far too pretty to clean up on the rails of  the tube.” Dorcas tousles a hand into his dark tawny curls, and Remus holds back the roll to his eyes that he feels willing up inside of him as he stands fully.

“Thanks Cas.”

She smiles beatifically, and throws him a wink. “You’re joining Emmy for the report tomorrow on those United footballers and their fundraiser for the hospital, yeah?”

“Bright and early,” Remus replies, still feels a bit miffed that he was chosen to write up the charity function, considering he doesn’t know a lick about football and doesn’t really get on with anyone who does. But Caradoc— their typical sports reporter— is out sick with the flew, so it’s on him. “I’ll have it on your desk early enough so it’ll be published by tea time.”

“Good man,” Dorcas says in thanks, picking up her crowing cellphone before waving him off.

Remus isn’t all that surprised when he strides out of the office only to find Benjy Fenwick sitting against the opposite wall, knees pressed to his chest and quickly scrambling up when he catches sight of Remus. Sometimes it’s impossible to believe that the bespectacled man in front of him is one of the top editors for the Phoenix, that he’s a regular corespondent for places like the BBC or CNN— that his rebukes against the piss poor inquiries waged during PMQs have become more anticipated than the sessions themselves. Remus tends to forget all of that when he sees him like this, messy haired and wearing a graphic T-shirt with some marvel superhero embossed on the front. “Wotcher Remus.”

“Hiya Remus says, smiling softly and rocking back on his heels. “You wanted to talk to the sergeant then?”

“Huh? Oh, no, no. I didn’t want to talk to Dorcas, I just— Erm, I know you were showing her that stuff you got from that intern, Pettigrew, and i know you were chafed about not getting any opportunity here so—“ He trails off, scratching the back of his head and studying a point over Remus’s shoulder, and it’s all too endearing, and Remus is so beyond thankful he’s made such a good friend here.

“No cigar,” he says in answer to the unspoken question, shrugging noncommittally even if he feels like shit over it.

Benjy nods, face contrite in a way that tells Remus he never thought it would’ve went otherwise. “I’m sorry, that’s bollocks.”

“’S whatever,” Remus shrugs off the apology, begins walking down the hall and straightening his report to hand over to Alice. 

“Ah,, erm. We can get a drink, yeah? In commiseration,” Benjy offers, and Remus stilts only for a beat before continuing the twisting trail to where Alice is set up with the more senior members on staff. And he feels only sorta bad about wanting to refuse. He knows that if he says yes, it’ll mean something different to Benjy than it does him, that he’ll probably take it as Remus finally giving into his pestering and deciding to actually go out with him, even if he’s refuted the other four times he’s asked as much. Remus’s simply just too busy trying to get a footing in this city, and trying to figure out where he’s suppose to go from here, and what he’s suppose to do. And yes, Benjy is cute— a complete Seth Cohen archetype. And he’s sweet and smart and funny enough. But Remus is really not in the mood for doing the whole flowers and wine and candle lit dinners shtick, had gotten enough of that while still with his university boyfriend. And yeah, he’s only just turned 24, but he already feels too old and too jaded for that sort of puppy love— even if Benjy’s got a good decade and some change on him.

Probably sensing his hesitation, Benjy is quick to rectify the offer. “I’ll ask Mary, and Fabian too, and a few others. We can make a night of it, just some drinks on a Friday after work.”

Stalling by the last turn to Alice’s desk, Remus looks at him from over his shoulder, and sort of hates himself for being such a soft hearted fuck sometimes. “Yeah Benj, sounds nice. Just let me know on the group chat, yeah?”

Benjy grins, much more genuine than his awkward quirk of the lips from earlier. “Yeah, good call, I’ll let the others know pronto.”

“Aces,” Remus says, tosses him a obligatory thumbs-up before finding an expectant looking Alice who’s tapping her foot impatiently.

Yeah, today is so bloody shit.

.-

Surprisingly, the round of drinks turns to another and then a third and fourth and Remus is currently nursing his fifth mango margarita on Benjy’s tab, and he actually feels lighter than he has since taking the job at Phoenix, feels bright and bubbling and like absolutely nothing could be wrong as long as he’s got this drink in his grasp and he’s sitting with the handful of reporters and photographers from the office that don’t all have sticks up their asses. It’s fun, it’s good. So obviously it couldn’t have lasted.

Mary is currently cackling about her Uber driver from last night who asked her all sorts of well meaning, but incredibly dense questions about her hijab— a freshly poured glass of coke in one hand, while the other is tangled into her girlfriend Emmy’s. And From his left Remus can hear Fabian ribbing Frank on his crush on Alice, while Benjy scoots intermittently closer as they watch Kingsley and Marlene sparring over something to do with a Kardashian or TikTok trend or whatever the fuck else— The guy has resilience, Remus has to give Benjy that.

“Right, who’s buying next?” Marlene asks, abrasive as ever while scrolling through her phone, ostensively finding something to prove her point against the managing editor.

“Reckon it’s my turn,” Benjy crows, standing up smoothly and glancing down at Remus with a nervous sort of half grin.

“Just a water for me, ta. I need to sober up,” Remus tells him, feels proud that he didn’t even slur slightly. Benjy bobs his head understandingly, and Remus turns to ask Marlene about her latest tinder hookup which always is a good laugh, but then he catches on it. On the sound of the pub’s doors flinging open, followed by a raucous crowd of athletic looking guys probably only a bit older than he is, clambering indoors. 

They’re all so very sixth-form, broad grins and slapping each other’s shoulders with jeers, topped off with loud, bark like laughter that makes it obvious to Remus that these wankers think that they’re some sort of group of gods amongst men, roaming around like everyone should fall to their feet and offer everything they have. It makes Remus roll his eyes so far back that it feels like he might’ve sprained them. They just give off this exhausting aura that reminds him of a past boyfriend in tenth year who was on the footie team and who’s favorite activity was either making Remus feel lucky enough to go out with someone so popular, or dragging him around like some sort of bloody trophy.

To put it nicely, Remus sorta hates them on sight. So when he sees one of the tossers— regrettably the brightest of the lot who’s all pearly teeth, and glittering eyes and incredibly impressive shoulders that tape off to a narrow waste in an objectively infuriating matter— swivels up to the barkeep and jostles Benjy on his way, well Remus doesn’t hesitate to dart forwards to tell him off.

“Oi, watch where you’re going, yeah?”

Benjy and the bloke who looks like he might moonlight as a model for Calvin briefs for when he’s not lounging in a yacht off the Tuscany coast, both turn to him at the same time. Benjy looking abashed, and the aforementioned tosser preening like the cat who’s just caught a canary.

“Sorry, love. Didn’t see you there,” he says in a delightfully deep tenner, giving Remus an appreciative once over, and Remus absolutely despises how the action makes him feel both thrilled and irritated. “Trust and believe, I wouldn’t have looked away if I saw you.”

“Not me, arse.” Remus spits back, refuses to pay any credence to how his cheeks have begun to flush. “You bumped into my mate right there, the one with the tray of loggers.”

The tosser darts his almost molten gray eyes over to Benjy for a sparing second before he laser focusses back onto Remus, the most phony expression of contrition all over his face. “Sorry to your friend,” he says the descriptor like a joke that no one else is in on. “Let me buy you a drink in sorry for the one I made slim here spill.”

Remus is officially unimpressed, hopes that his flat tone gets it across. “You’re an arse.”

“You’re mouthy,” he retorts, looks like it’s something he greatly appreciates— delights over even. 

“Ah, ’s fine Remus, really. I’ll just bring these back and get us a new glass.”

“Listen to slim, Remus, he’s got the right idea.” The tosser hurriedly interjects, strutting close enough to him that he makes it so Remus has to tip his head back just slightly so not to drop his gaze. “I’m Black, Sirius Black, just to get the pleasantries out of the way.” His leer tells Remus that the name should probably evoke some response of aw into Remus, but all it does is make him sound so egregiously pretentious that Remus wants to smack his own bloody head against a dry wall and stay in the hole until this ruddy Sirius bloke leaves him the hell alone.

“Good for you,” he says instead of all of that, and spots Sirius’s friends from behind Sirius chuckling and elbowing one another. Evidently this is a line the tosser uses frequently, and Remus is pleased that he might be one of the first who aren’t at all impressed by the grandiose way he introduced himself.

“Hah, you know I’m use to the pretty ones playing hard to get, but I’m really feeling here that you’re not exactly liking my company, love.”

Remus sucks in a frustrated breath through his nose, shouldering past Sirius and taking the tray of drinks from Benjy before storming back to their table where the others have begun openly gawping at the scene— Marlene outright squawking with Fabian just as Remus takes his seat.

“Don’t,” Remus warns them all as he silently says fuck off to the water and instead gargles down one of the loggers. And if he has to steadfastly not turn around for the rest of the night towards where he can feel Sirius’s gaze burning into his back— well then so be it.

.-

The next morning, Remus has to puke twice into the toilet, and gulps down three aspirins just to stave off his bloody hangover from the night before where he decided that getting properly sloshed would prove as a good technique to not end up making out with Sirius in some dark corner— or regrettably the backseat of his car. And if he does still remember flashes of ranting to him about how insufferable preppy, rich boys actually are while Sirius gazed at him endeared— well Remus just decides to purge it out along with the stomach acid. It’s not like he’ll ever see the douche again.

.-

He meets Arthur— one of the accountants who also helps out by taking photos for more low key news stories— outside the hospital where the conference will be taking place with the Manchester United team. There was a scrimmage that they all played with some of the kids in the cancer ward that occurred at around eight in the ruddy morning, but thankfully Remus didn’t have to show up until an hour later when the team presented their big shiny check, to the big, shiny hospital. 

However, Arthur has been here for hours, so he’s beyond chirpy and looks like he’s downed three cups of espresso as he chatters on about his son Percy starting secondary school, and his eldest, Bill, getting an award for his reading prowess, and all the strange craving his wife has been having throughout her pregnancy with the twins they’re expecting any week now. And Remus loves Arthur, he does— one of the sweetest folks he’s ever met— but God, his head is still thrumming from those misguided tequila shots and he really just wants to get his three quotes, and write up the story so he can find refuge back in his sheets.

While Arthur has moved to talking about his wife, Molly’s, plans to open up a daycare in their refurnished garage, Remus scans his eyes over the familiar face of reporters from other outlets who look just as bored as him, and then to the stage where a woman in a sharply pressed suit is ushering for the group of football stars to join her, so that the conference can finally fucking begin. 

And Remus thinks that their faces are sorta familiar, probably from all the publicity they get on the telly— but then he freezes as he stops at one of them with dark brown skin, and thick rimmed spectacles— and he suddenly can hear him chatting about his redheaded girlfriend and drunkenly declaring that she’ll be the mother of his children some day soon. So he completely expects it when his stomach drops as he moves his glance just a bit to the right, being struck by pearly teeth, and glittering eyes and incredibly impressive shoulders that tape off to a narrow waste, made all the more infuriating by the tight kit he’s got on and the blazing number twelve splayed against his chest.

And fuck.

Remus runs through about a dozen scenarios in which he can make a discrete, or not so discrete exit before he notices him, but in tandem to his spiraling thoughts, the wanker actually looks forwards, and like a creepy metal detector, his quick silver gaze pinpoints onto Remus.

They stare at one another for a beat before his smirk goes wolfish, and he runs a hand through his artfully tousled hair in a way that practically screams, fancy meeting you here. And holy fuck he looks so mouth watteringly attractive with that faint film of sweat running down his neck, and how his smile pulls slightly more to the left, and how he’s looking at Remus like he’s his birthday and Christmas presents all rolled into one.

Remus suddenly hates everything— but most of all hates Sirius, and how bloody fit he is.

“Oh, you’re a fan then?” 

Starting, Remus shifts around slightly so that he’s facing Arthur completely. “Pardon?”

“Sirius Black I mean, you’re a fan?” Arthur asks in that abrasively congenial and intensely scrutinizing way that he treats everything. “I mean he’s a great player, but I know you don’t really watch. So I bet it’s all that charity work he does, yeah?”

“Charity work?” Remus echos, feeling like a floundering fish.

“Truly some amazing stuff.” Arthur pontificates, rubbing a hand against his jaw as he tips his head back. “I mean obviously I’m partial to the fundraising for Reporters Without Borders, but of course the things he does with the more impoverished kids is great. And I know Molly likes his very outspoken posts about being anti war and his annual live streams to earn money for refugees in those war torn nations, like the last one he did for Syria?”

“Oh—“ Remus says, feeling like his head is being overrun by a fountain of new information.

“Yes well, you don’t usually see athletes get into the thick of it with political issues, but I reckon he never really minded. I mean the fact he’s the first football star from United to have come out without any fanfare really proved that. Oh, I think they’re starting, I should probably get some photos before Dorcas gives me a tongue lashing.”

And as quick as the flash of his camera’s lends, Arthur is using his considerable height to get to a more advantageous spot towards the front, and leaves Remus in the dust, as if he hasn’t just obliterated his every assumption of Sirius from after that initial meeting.

And unbidden, the words his mother had told him so many years ago, about facts and how they can color a situation just simply based off the person who’s speaking them— flood to the forefront of his mind.

“Fucking hell,” Remus mutters lowly, gets jostled by Greengrass, a hawkish reporter from a rivaling publication who always has on the most wickedly sharp acrylic nails, and perfectly quaffed curls— as she waves around her certification to speak her inquiry.

“My question is for Potter,” she announces when the woman leading the event, McGonagall, points her way. “And I was wondering how early you boys have to rise for training during the season? And how intense the sessions are that Coach Hooch puts you guys through?”

Potter, the one with the redheaded girlfriend that Remus heard so much about last night between his ranting at Sirius, parts his lips, but it’s not his voice that ends up reverberating through the outdoors space. Instead, it’s Sirius, who’s shouldering him with a goading air, obviously expecting his comment to have only ended up in Potter’s ear and not caught by the mike.

“I wonder if Lupin will let me wake up with’m so he can let me get some real training done before practices, eh?”

And just as soon as his words pitter off, the entire crowd drops to a hush— quiet enough so that they could probably hear it if a pen dropped. 

Sirius’s handsome face— strong jawline, and broad but sharp cheekbones, and a long, narrow nose— goes suddenly ashen, and he flashes over to Remus as if he’s terrified that he’ll bite his face off.

God, what an idiot.

With a long suffering sigh, Remus plucks out the microphone from a slack faced Greengrass’s hand. “We can discuss the regimen afterwards, Black. Just meet me by the front doors and let your mate answer the bloody question.”

Everyone around them falls into laughter that’s caught between uncomfortable chuckles and amazingly amused cackling, but the only person Remus is paying any mind is Sirius, and how he seems to have gone absolutely incandescent, nodding electrically before miming the zip of his lips and gesturing for Potter to carry on.

Jesus help him, Remus has no idea what he’s gotten himself into.

.-

~My Wolfstar FIC Masterlist

~Buy Me A Coffee 

[n00dl3gal]

Like Old Times (Father-Son Bonding AU)

A direct sequel to the “Expiration Date” fic, which I’ll link in a reblog. I’ve also posted all my fics in this AU to AO3!! Thanks again to @thetriggeredhappy for their help and just generally being a cool dude, and the Scoutsune Discord server for indulging my brainrot

No warnings beyond family schmoop!

Less than an hour after the bread monster incident, the Administrator called for a ceasefire. “Only while your base is repaired,” she said over the TV screen. “BLU is quite disappointed in this negligence- as am I. Regardless, you may use these three days as you see fit. Go home, stay here- whatever you do, no more bread monsters.” The screen turned off with a click. 

Scout exhaled through his nose. He was thankful there was no mention of him or Miss Pauling’s woodchipper. 

Spy decloaked behind him. “Less time than I wanted, but c’est la vie.” Scout looked at him over his shoulder. “I’m meeting with an old contact during our break,” Spy said in Italian. “Would you like to come along? It’ll be like old times.” 

Scout’s brow furrowed, but he nodded. At least this way, he’d get out of helping Engie and Heavy with repairs. And possibly meeting Miss Pauling’s woodchipper. 

“Excellent. Our flight is at 7 AM tomorrow.” 

“We’re flying commercial?” Scout asked, also in (more hesitant) Italian. 

“Our destination is continental. We’ll leave the base by 5:30.” Scout groaned as Spy started to leave. But- wait, he hadn’t- 

“Oi, where are we going, anyway?” he called back in English. 

Spy paused to look at him and smile. “Boston.” 

“Why do we always get the ass-crack-of-dawn flights?” Jeremy asked groggily, reclining his seat.

“They are the ones with first-class seats available,” Raphael replied. He took a sip from his mimosa. 

“Yeah, cuz God forbid you fly coach for once.” Jeremy shifted, trying to get comfortable. “Hey. Have I ever been to Boston before?”

Raphael didn’t answer immediately. His lip sucked in, as if in thought. “Yes. When you were very, very young. You wouldn’t remember.” 

Jeremy nodded. He wanted to ask more, there was something Raphael wasn’t saying but… well, he was never a morning person. He fell asleep before the plane even took off. 

. . .

It was mid-afternoon by the time they landed in Boston. Jeremy was never fond of long flights; having his legs cramped like that for extended periods of time was murder. He was half tempted to take a jog around Logan International. Raphael, on the other hand, was ushering them both to the car rental. “Can’t even get a stretch in, huh?”

“Unfortunately, we are expected by 4, and I would hate to keep my contact waiting,” Raphael explained in French, accepting the keys from the girl at the counter. “She’s not a very patient woman, in some regards.” 

Jeremy huffed but didn’t argue. He just followed his father to the rental, tossing his suitcase in the backseat. “Y’know, the girl at the counter-” 

“We will not have time for you to go out on a date, Jeremy.” 

“No! No, it was- her accent’s kinda like mine, it’s weird,” Jeremy said. Raphael started the car. “Cuz I’ve only been here as a baby, and I got mine from TV and shit. It’s just… really strange, is all.” 

Raphael made a quiet noise of agreement. “Some of the shows you watched as a child were filmed here. It’s not as complex as you think it is.” 

“Yeah, probably not…” 

The pair lapsed into silence as Raphael drove. Storefronts and high rises morphed into houses. It had been a while since they were in a residential area. RED, for understandable reasons, kept away from civilians. 

Raphael took the roads with practiced experience. Sure, it had been implied he knew the area. If he had a contact here- one with a house, presumably- he must’ve spent time here. But this- this was far too familiar. A bit suspicious, actually. 

Eventually, Raphael slowed in front of a more rundown Brownstone. Still quite nice, just needed a little work. It felt… welcoming, in a way Jeremy couldn’t name.

“Lotta cars,” he observed as Raphael parallel parked. “Must be a party going on somewhere.” 

“Hmm, perhaps,” Raphael said, turning the car off. “Would you mind ringing the doorbell for me? I need to grab something from the trunk. Ask for Sara Jane.” 

OK, now Jeremy knew something was up. He was never the one to make the first contact, that was always Dad’s job. Jeremy might be a full-grown adult, but there were some things that didn’t change. This was one of them. 

Still, he nodded. He climbed up the front steps and ringed the doorbell. He heard- multiple voices from inside, predominantly male, but they quickly silenced themselves. A TV, perhaps? They really ought to get that flower box on the second story window fixed- 

The woman who opened the door was a bit shorter than him, though not by much. She was wearing a simple dress, hoop earrings, and flats. Her hair was dark, curved to her chin. But her nose and earlobes felt… achingly familiar. Like Jeremy saw them all the time. 

“Um, hi, I’m looking for Sara Jane? My name’s-” The rest of his speech was knocked out of him as the woman launched herself at him. Jeremy braced for an attack, but quickly realized she was… hugging him. 

She was hugging him, sobbing, and choked out the word “Jeremy.” 

Wait. He knew that voice. He had only heard it a few times in his life, few enough he could count them on one hand, but he knew it. “M-Ma?” he whispered. 

The woman- Sara Jane- Ma looked up at him, still crying. Her hands found his face as she observed him. “Y-yeah, sweetie, it’s me, it’s-it’s your ma,” she said. 

“Ma!” he laughed, tears of his own dancing down his cheeks. He hugged her back, practically lifting her off her feet. “Oh my God, Ma! I-I never thought I’d-” 

“Oh Jeremy, sweetie, look how tall you’ve gotten! Last I saw you, you fit in my arms! My baby, my handsome baby,” she spoke over him. She rubbed circles into his back as they embraced. It felt so, so right. 

Jeremy laughed even harder. “Are you kiddin’? I got it from you, you’re beautiful, Ma!” He stared at her, trying to commit every mole and wrinkle and perfect flaw to memory. “I can’t believe- oh my God, I’m actually meeting you!” 

“It was long overdue,” another voice said, as Raphael joined them on the front stoop. “I had put it off for safety reasons, but considering our current, ah, situation… I felt it was worth the risk.” 

Sara Jane squealed, pulling Raphael into the hug as well. “You’ve been taking good care of my boy, you promise me, Raphael?” 

“Don’t worry Ma, he’s the best dad I could ask for, considering,” Jeremy teased. 

“Oh, don’t I know it. Called me up last night and told me to get the whole motley crew together. Even managed to get Melvin to bring his twin daughters, bless his wife’s heart,” she explained. 

Jeremy blinked. “Uh- Melvin? Daughters?”

Sara Jane laughed. It sounded so much like Jeremy’s it practically hurt. This was his mother. Lord, he’s finally seeing her. “Melvin’s your older brother, sweetie. Eh, sixth oldest. Bobby’s the oldest.” 

“I have a brother?”

“Oh honey, you’re the youngest of eight,” Sara Jane said plainly. 

“...fuck,” Jeremy whispered. 

. . .

He didn’t just have seven brothers. He had seven brothers, four of which brought their wives, one who brought his boyfriend, and three who brought their kids. And the kids totaled to an additional six, counting the babies. 

It was… an admittedly tight squeeze in the living room. 

Sara Jane introduced Jeremy. Jeremy had been expecting to be treated like a stranger. He had vanished when he was a baby, after all, and his younger-older brothers probably wouldn’t remember him at all. 

And yet, it was like he knew them all his life. 

They teased him and punched him playfully and acted so friendly, so familial it nearly made Jeremy break down. He was still crying from meeting Ma, but being dogpiled with so much affection was suffocating. In a good way. He had seen on sitcoms the intrinsic bond between family, and while he felt it with Dad, they also risked their lives nearly daily. But it was real, it was here, and it was wrapping him in a warm blanket. 

Despite the chaos and the sheer number of people, Jeremy didn’t feel overwhelmed. He laughed and played along with their jokes, cracking some back when he could get a word in. Scott ragged on his dog tags, he countered by pointing out the hole in his pants. Michael told him he was still a shortass, he replied with “it takes one to know one.” Elliot and Ricky were the closest to actually getting hurt, and that was only because Jeremy elbowed them both so hard they nearly fell over. 

For the first time in 25 years, Jeremy understood what “home” meant. 

The kids were especially curious, eager to meet their uncle and step-grandfather. Within seconds, young Rebecca- only four years old- was challenging Jeremy to a race around the house. “I’m the fastest kid in the world,” she bragged, puffing out her chest. 

“Oh yeah?” Jeremy asked. “That a fact?”

“You wanna test me? I beat Johnny Three-Legs at running, and he’s got three legs!” Jeremy laughed and stood from the couch, letting her lead him outside. “On the count of three, OK?”

“You’re on, pipsqueak,” Jeremy teased.

“Onetwothree GO!” Rebecca yelled, taking off in a sprint. Jeremy knew that, by all accounts, he should beat her. His legs were longer, she didn’t have the proper running stance, and it was his job to be fast. That’s what he got paid to do. But some small voice was telling him to let her win, so he did. “Ha! I told ya!” 

“Ya sure did,” he replied, mock panting. “Look at you, a freaking blur on the green. You’re goin’ to the Olympics, kid.” 

Rebecca beamed and hugged his leg. “Promise, Uncle Jeremy?” He nodded because, after that display, there was no way he could speak without squeaking like a chew toy. 

Rebecca skipped back inside, past Raphael, who was watching on the stoop. “You’re a natural with children,” he observed. “I used to do the same thing when you were that age.” 

“Wait- wait, really? You sure fooled me,” Jeremy said. 

Raphael rolled his eyes. “What’s my job again, mon lapin?”

“Yeah, yeah…” Jeremy leaned against the railing, watching Raphael’s cigarette smoke in the wind. “Hey. Uh… thanks for arranging all of this. You really didn’t need to.”

“But I did. I meant it when I said this was overdue. I’ve been wanting to introduce you to the rest of the family for a while, but have been unable. Then that whole ordeal with the supposed tumors, and-” Raphael exhaled slowly. “It wouldn’t have been fair to you if you died without knowing them. I would’ve never forgiven myself.” 

Jeremy punched his shoulder lightly. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, pops. It all worked out, we’re still kicking, and that roast chicken Ma’s making smells incredible. Everything’s perfect.” 

Raphael finished his cigarette and smiled. “Oui. It is.” 

. . .

While Sara Jane had been able to get the rest of the family here, it was a school night. Kids needed to be tucked in by 9:30, so most of Jeremy’s brothers were gone by 8. Elliot was staying overnight, as was his boyfriend. Otherwise, the house quickly went from bustling to barren. 

It gave Jeremy a chance to explore his would-be childhood home.

He made his way upstairs, pushing open one of the doors. It led- to little surprise- to a bedroom. It was set up like a nursery, with a crib in one corner and a toddler bed in the other. Toys were scattered about across the floor. 

He heard Sara Jane sigh behind him. “This was your room, you know.” Jeremy turned to look at her as she flipped the light switch. “That crib… I had put you to bed the night your father planned to fake his death. I was in on the whole plan, naturally. He wanted to hold you one last time, so I said OK. When I woke up the next morning… you were both gone.” She exhaled slowly, grabbing onto his shoulder. “I wrote both of you off as dead, but I knew what had happened. Honestly, should’ve figured it out before then. You hadn’t woken me up crying,” she joked. Her eyes were watering. 

Jeremy hugged her, pulling her close. “You never took the crib down?” 

“By the time I was ready, Bobby’s wife was pregnant, so I kept it up for my grandbabies. I knew- I knew you were out there, sweetie. Both of you.” She kissed his cheek, squeezing him.

“I-I never got to be a normal kid, really,” he confessed. “I mean, Dad did his best, gave me comic books and board games and stuff, but-but I never went to school or made friends or anything like that. I-I didn’t even know I had a family. It took me forever to even realize I had a Ma. An-and everything I did-” The tears were flowing again, more freely than earlier. “Ya missed me losing my first tooth, and potty trainin’, and all that stuff parents should know about. I-I’m sorry,” he whispered. 

Sara Jane wiped his cheek dry. “Don’t apologize for what your father did, Jeremy. And definitely don’t apologize for me not potty training another kid. Besides… hold on, I’ll be right back.” She made her way down the hallway. Jeremy didn’t follow, instead deciding to examine the crib. This was where he grew up. It was a simple crib, obviously well-used. Not worn-down, mind, just… used. It had a history. A history that Jeremy wanted to decode, but unlike his dad’s ciphers, he didn’t have the key. 

“Took me a second to find it,” Sara Jane said. She handed him what appeared to be a scrapbook. “Raphael- he wrote when he can. Taught me some basic codes, would send out letters whenever you’d leave a town. Never left a return address, but…” Jeremy flipped through the pages, moving to sit on the small bed. The letters were all coded but appeared to be about how much Raphael missed Sara Jane. Updates on Jeremy’s growth. Letters from a father to his lover and son’s mother. 

One page jumped out to him, though. “I remember this,” he said, running his fingers against the paper. It was a simple drawing of a young boy, holding a catcher’s mitt, and a taller man next to him. “I drew this after Dad took me to my first baseball game, for my eighth birthday. I thought I lost the drawing after we skipped town, but- he sent them to you?”

Sara Jane nodded. “And I kept them all. Oh, honey, the day I first heard your voice on the phone- Mikey can tell you, I damn near fell over. You sounded so happy, and even if I couldn’t see you, that’s all a mother wants.” Jeremy leaned against her and she shut the book. “That’s all a mother wants, sweetie. To see her kids be safe and happy.” 

“I am, Ma,” he assured her. “I promise.” 

They sat like that for a while, with Sara Jane commenting on various letters and drawings in the scrapbook. Apparently, Raphael sent her money when he could- more frequently now that Mann Co. paid so well. She also had a rough idea of their current occupations. “I figure, if you and your father are working for the same company- with his skills, there’s gotta be a whole lot of nonsense going on out in that desert.” Jeremy laughed at that because she wasn’t wrong. “But I also figure since he raised you right, he’ll keep the both of you safe.” 

“I keep him safe too, don’t worry,” Jeremy added. “Uh- listen, it’s touching and all you kept the crib, but I don’t have to sleep in it, right?” 

They both had a good chuckle over that. Their laughs were in perfect harmony. 

. . .

The next two days were a mix of learning the family history and exploring Boston. It was the offseason, so there weren’t any games going on at Fenway, but Jeremy still got a picture in front of the park. Sara Jane took the pair to a restaurant that served “the best damn clam chowder in the contiguous United States.” Which, incidentally, led them to discover Jeremy was allergic to clams. Thankfully they didn’t have to go to the hospital- he just sort of immediately got sick before it passed- but it did suck.

It was damn good chowder, though. 

They went down to the harbor where the Boston Tea Party happened. It was crowded with people, resulting in them not staying long. Jeremy was a bit better with crowds than Raphael, but neither was great with them. Came with the job. Getting overpriced memorabilia from a nearby gift shop, though, went over much more smoothly. 

When not out on the town, Sara Jane dug out more scrapbooks and photo albums, catching Raphael up on what his stepsons had been up to. She showed Jeremy pictures from Ricky’s first school play to Scott opening up his butcher shop. Graduation pictures, wedding pictures, baby pictures- it was all there, and Jeremy devoured it. He wanted to know these people. He wanted to know his family. And he did. He learned about Michael’s stint in the Navy, Melvin meeting his wife, how Bobby’s son could dribble a basketball for twenty minutes straight. He learned about how his parents met. How Raphael loved each of Sara Jane’s children, even if they weren’t biologically his. How Jeremy wasn’t planned- few of the kids were - but they were both so, so happy to realize he was coming. 

He also learned that, while diner food would remain the undisputed king, homemade meatloaf came pretty close. 

. . .

The only problem came when it was time to leave. It wasn’t that Jeremy didn’t want to return to work, or leave his Ma behind. Sara Jane wasn’t even torn up over losing her son and lover again. It just felt like there was so much left to say, to do. There was uncertainty as to when they’d be able to return. “We get time off for Smissmas, I know that’s months away but I’ll be here, I promise,” Jeremy swore, hugging Sara Jane for the eighth time. 

“You better,” she said, squeezing him tightly. “You have 25 years worth of gifts to catch up on, not to mention birthday gifts-”

“Ma, you don’t have to go that far,” he whined. He was touched, sure, but the thought of that much luggage was truly frightening. Oh God, he was going to have to get gifts for everybody, wasn’t he? What do kids even want for Smissmas? 

“Hush, let me spoil my baby,” Sara Jane told him, kissing his cheek. “Oh, Jeremy…” 

Jeremy nodded. “I know, but I’ll call. I’ll write, too. Send pictures if I can.” 

“I’ll make sure he does,” Raphael assured her. Sara Jane stood to kiss his lips, with Jeremy looking away pointedly. “You have my word, ma petite chou-fleur.” 

“Alright, alright- now get going, I don’t want you two missing your flight. That boss of yours sounds like she’ll tear you both a new one if you’re late,” Sara Jane said, shooing them away. “Love you boys!” 

“I love you too, Ma!” Jeremy shouted back, for the very first time. 

The drive back to the airport was quiet. Jeremy stared out the window, watching his hometown- he had a hometown- pass by. “Hey, dad?” he asked, still looking outside. Raphael grunted to acknowledge he was listening. “One of these days, our contracts with Mann Co. are gonna expire. We’re gonna have to find new jobs.” 

“Yes, that’s correct,” Raphael said. He tapped a rhythm against the steering wheel. 

“And-and I was thinking when that time comes… maybe we could come back to Boston. Find some gigs out here,” Jeremy suggested. 

Raphael sighed. “Unfortunately, being a spy means that you don’t have the option of retiring, Jeremy. Not until you’re unable to complete your job. At that point, though, you’ve probably died a dozen times over,” he explained. “Even if I could retire, settling down somewhere so close to people I care about- I would still have enemies.” 

“Right. ‘Course,” Jeremy said. “It’s OK.” 

“That being said,” Raphael continued, “you have the luxury of youth and not being tied down to such a career. If you want to find a job in Boston after we finish with RED, there’s nothing stopping you.” 

“But people will still be after me, since I’m your son. And you wouldn’t be around.”

“Every child leaves their parents someday. And you’re strong, Jeremy. You can protect yourself and your family.” Raphael smiled. “I don’t believe Sara Jane needs much protecting, but I do worry.” 

Jeremy laughed. “I mean, did ya see the muscles on Scott and Michael? Guys can probably bench press a tractor!” 

They both chuckled before settling into quietude. Eventually, though, Jeremy had to break the silence. His voice was barely above a whisper. “I love you.” 

“I love you too, mon lapin.”

“...so your nickname for Ma is fucking ‘little cauliflower?’ What the hell, Dad?” 

[euovennia]

Mate

Summary: In which Carlisle finds his mate with the subtle guidance of Alice.

Pairing: fem!reader x Carlisle Cullen

Word Count: 1,860

"Slow down, Alice! There's no need to be this excited, it's just skating." Rosalie remarked with a bored expression as she and the rest of the Cullen family struggled to keep up with the tiny woman.

"Maybe it is just skating, but we haven't had a family outing like this in forever, Rose! Trust me when I say this is good for us, it'll be unforgettable." Alice spoke, a mix of mischief and excitement glimmering in her golden eyes. Jasper came towering beside her and wrapped an arm around her small frame, "Just what are you planning, darlin'?" Alice only smiled before quickly escaping his grasp and continuing bouncing her way toward the entrance of the skating rink as the small group attempted to rid themselves of the uncomfortable nagging feeling in the back of their minds.

Something was going to happen, but no one knew what.

With the door held open by Alice, the family quickly filed into the building before being dragged over to the check-out counter where an older man stood hunched over the counter as he kept his eyes trained on a small TV in the corner of the counter. His calm exterior fumbled momentarily as the sound of the entrance door slamming shut behind the rather large group snapped him out of his focus. He quickly straightened himself out as he painted a warm smile onto his face, "Well hello there folks, what can I do for you?"

At this, Alice quickly pushed a surprised Carlisle to the front of the group. Feeling awkward, he quickly clasped his hands in front of him as he looked directly at the man who was patiently awaiting a response, "Hello. My family and I were interested in doing some skating. Perhaps for an hour or two."

The man turned to look down at his wristwatch before changing his attention to Carlisle once again, "Of course, but I have to say that there's gonna be about a ten-minute wait. I can get you all situated with your skates and take you down to the observation room while you wait. If that's alright, of course."

Carlisle glanced back at his family and upon receiving one enthusiastic reply from Alice and a shrug from Edward before he turned to the man, "Yes, that'll work out fine."

With their skates in hand, the Cullen clan followed the man down a long, brightly lit hallway before reaching a set of worn-in blue metal doors. The doors let out a loud creak as they were pushed open by the man. As the group filed inside the cold room, they were met with an intensely fast-paced tune composed of numerous cellos. They glanced at one another, the uncomfortable feeling slowly beginning to blossom in their bodies further with the exception of Alice who stood there with a large, expectant grin on her pale face. Realization dawned on Rosalie as she caught sight of her sister's face and she harshly grabbed her wrist as she spoke in a low tone, "What the hell are we doing here, Alice?" Ignoring her harsh, venom-filled tone Alice only shrugged. Huffing, Rosalie returned to Emmett's side as she crossed her arms. Sensing the tension that was growing between his adoptive children, Carlisle turned to the old man who was looking out a window that was faced outward toward the skating rink. "Is there a specific reason for the music?"

The man looked back at Carlisle and wordlessly motioned him to stand by his side. Carlisle furrowed his brows together in slight confusion but walked over by the man as requested. Eyes focused on the glass window in front of him, Carlisle watched as a woman feverishly skated around the rink with a heightened sense of grace and elegance that could rival that of his own family. He found himself enthralled with the precise and quick movements coming from the mysterious woman and found himself letting out an unnecessary breath as he asked, "Who is that?"

The old man kept his eyes trained on the woman's skating figure as he answered, "I don't know much about her if I'm being honest. All I know is that she's a pro skater and that her coach is pretty strict." Carlisle reluctantly tore his gaze away from the woman and glued them to the man beside him, "Coach?" The man nodded as he turned to face Carlisle fully, "Yeah. That guy over there." He spoke as he lamely motioned to the left side of the rather large rink. Carlisle's gaze settled on a well-built man with medium brown hair that was immaculately styled with calculating and judgmental eyes that seemed to rake over every movement of the female skater.

As Carlisle's gaze went to settle on the woman once again, he was pulled from his thoughts as his adoptive children had grown an apparent interest in Carlisle's overly observant attitude. "What're you looking at, pops?" Emmett spoke loudly causing Carlisle to cringe at both the nickname and volume of his voice. "Nothing, Emmett. Just looking around the rink is all." Rosalie scoffed, "Seems to me like you were checking out something special," Her gaze quickly turned to the woman who was effortlessly gliding across the ice, "Or someone." It was at this moment where Carlisle knew that if he was still capable of blushing, his face would be on fire. "She seems to be very talented, it's eye-catching." Esme gently defended. "Well, the music is a bit obnoxious." Rosalie muttered. "A flair for the dramatics never hurt anyone." Edward mused. "Oh please, all you know how to do is be dramatic." Rosalie fired back, her annoyance growing with each passing second.

Carlisle watched the scene unfold in front of him with weariness in his eyes as he gave a small nod toward Jasper who then unleashed a subtle calming effect on everyone present. Unable to fight back the sudden wave of calmness she felt, Rosalie let out a deep breath before walking away with Emmett trailing behind her, ready to calm her down further if needed. Relaxing his posture slightly, he turned to face the old man. "I apologize. My family, unfortunately, do not see eye to eye on everything." The man simply waved off his apology. "I used to be a family man myself. No worries. Anyhow, I best be getting back to the front desk. As soon as those two get out, feel free to hop on in." He said before giving the family a departing wave and walking away.

Carlisle watched him disappear behind the rusty blue doors before directing his attention back to the now-empty ice rink. He felt his undead heart fall to the pit of his stomach as one question raced through his mind: Where did she go?

His question was quickly answered as the doors leading to the rink opened and the man and woman walked in speaking in what Carlisle could make out to be French-based on his rather limited knowledge. He watched with great interest as the man and woman went back and forth with their conversation.

"Vous vous déplacez trop lentement dans certains domaines. Vous devez l'accélérer." (tr: You move too slow in some areas. You need to speed it up.) The man spoke, his tone a bit rough and body language that gave off the impression that he was annoyed. The woman seemed a bit exasperated as she responded, "Je sais que oui, mais je me sens épuisé. Donnez-moi juste un jour de repos, c'est tout ce dont j'ai besoin. Je serai mieux après, je te le promets!" (tr: I know I do, but I feel exhausted. Just give me one rest day, that's all I need. I'll be better after, I promise!) Once finished speaking, the man turned to her and shoved a finger in her face as he spoke quickly and sternly, an annoyed expression present on his face. "Non. Vous ne vous améliorez qu'avec une pratique constante. Pas de jours de repos pour vous. Arrête de demander." (tr: No. You only get better with consistent practice. No rest days for you. Stop asking.) The woman seemed disheartened by his attitude as she crossed her arms and simply nodded. The man let out a sigh as he ran a hand through his hair, "Pardon. Juste ... Habillez-vous. Nous devons partir." (tr: Sorry. Just...Get dressed. We need to leave.) The man tore his gaze from the woman in front of him and was surprised to see a large group of pale people awkwardly trying to pretend as though they weren't just eavesdropping. A light pink color dusted his cheeks as he pulled his jacket closer to his frame. "My apologies. Just a small disagreement. Have fun on the ice." He said, an awkward smile on his face as he walked out of the cold room.

With the door slamming shut behind him, the woman looked up at the family, her eyes quickly moving over the appearance of all of them, her gaze lingering on a certain blonde doctor for a second longer before speaking, "Sorry to take up all the ice. It's just that people normally don't come here." At the sound of her soft voice, Carlisle looked away from the door where the man had once gone through and fixed his eyes on the beauty in front of him.

She had dark brown hair that was thrown up to an elegantly messy bun with two fallen wisps of hair that worked to frame her face perfectly. Her eyes were a few shades lighter than her hair whereas her perfectly arched eyebrows matched her hair color perfectly. He found himself admiring her long eyelashes that beautifully fluttered with every blink and her long, slim nose that sat perfectly on her face. He admired the light pink color that stained her lips and cheeks, a glorious reminder for Carlisle of the humanity that remained within the woman before him.

"Dad!"

Carlisle looked over at Alice who had a knowing grin on her face as she motioned with her head toward the woman. He looked back at her, "I just wanted to know if you were alright. You seemed a little...Out of it."

At the sound of her melodic voice, Carlisle gave her a warm smile. "Yes. I do that sometimes. Sorry to concern you." The woman returned his smile as she spoke, "It's fine. We all have our moments." Carlisle nodded as his smile stayed painted on his face. After a few moments, the woman spoke again, "It was nice seeing you all, but I must get going. Have fun." Carlisle's face fell at her admission and he nearly reached out to stop her but restrained himself from doing so. "Of course. Have a wonderful day." With a final smile, she gave the group a nod of acknowledgment before taking her leave.

"What was that?" Jasper spoke once the doors shut behind the woman. Carlisle could feel his undead heart clench as he uttered the next two words,

"My mate."

[starsstruck]

strange phenomena; part two.

what happens when we meet again? you and harry have barely seen each other in almost a year. two ex-lovers find themselves in the same snowy town by strange chance, both looking for something they can’t seem to figure out. forgotten letters, painful memories, and heart stopping reunions.

pairing: harry x reader warnings: language, a lot of crying, sexual content words: 15.8k

series masterlist

an: hello. thank you for being patient with me <3 i am excited (and slightly nervous) to share the second part of my little story with you <3 i hope everyone enjoys, happy reading and please do share and let me know what you think ! it truly means the world to me. happy reading <3

You couldn’t remember the walk away from Harry’s.

Stumbling through the snow, not caring as the cold air nipped at your ears and left your lips chapped. All you could think about was the look on Harry’s face when you’d told him that you were leaving, the way his shoulders dropped and his brow furrowed.

You could still feel the imprint of his mouth on yours, the way it fit so smoothly over your own and was always inviting you in for more. You could feel the weight of his hands over your waist, fingertips that gripped into your skin even through the thickness of your sweater.

Even the light tickling of his hair that had brushed over your forehead could still be felt.

Just living in the same space as him for barely an entire day, you felt full of him. His smell lingered on your clothes, the weight of his hold around you when you slept, and most glaringly the locket resting against your chest felt like it was burning your skin.

And the worst part of it all was that it made you miss him. It made you ache for him in a way that you hadn’t let yourself ache.

You hadn’t let yourself feel this much since the initial break up, and now you were fighting back tears as you stormed down the hill so quickly, you felt like you were falling instead of walking.

Tears, that you apparently were not doing that good a job at holding back because soon your vision was blurring and you realized that a trail of tears were in fact freely falling from your eyes. Wiping the back of your hand over your cheeks, you bowed your head down as you walked.

You heard your name softly murmured from behind the closed door.

Rolling your head on the pillow, you felt a small pool of tears fall from your eyes and onto the fabric.

You were crying without even realizing it now.

Hearing your name called again, a bit louder this time followed by the little rattle of knuckles over the wooden door.

Sighing quietly, you threw the heavy comforter off your body and it seemed to take all your strength, but you lifted yourself from the mattress and stood to your feet.

Wiping at your face with the sleeve of your sweatshirt, you hoped that your distress wasn’t physically apparent, although you were sure that there was no way of properly hiding it.

“Morning,” your friend, and temporary roommate, greeted you with a tentative smile. You tried your best to return her cheeriness, but doubted that you even managed to lift the corners of your mouth. “Coffee’s ready.”

“Perfect,” you’d attempted a lightness to your voice, but instead it sounded hoarse, like you’d been crying all night.

Following Molly out to her kitchen, you took a seat over one of the creaky chairs and silently watched her pour you a cup, letting you add what you wanted to it for your liking. She poured herself a cup as well, turning to face you with a quiet pause. “Did you want something to eat?”

You smiled at her from over the rim of your mug. “I’m okay.”

“Okay…” she murmured quietly, taking a seat next to you. A small silence filled the air once more – you could practically hear her thinking about what to ask you.

“How are you feeling?”

Her voice came out quietly, a calmness as she watched you stare at the steam rise from your mug. You didn’t know how to answer her without crying.

“I’m doing fine,” you managed to get out, voice a tad stronger now that your throat was no longer dry.

Molly sighed your name softly, knowing you well enough to know you were lying through your teeth. “Do you want to talk about it?”

It. The breakup. Your breakup. You were single again – you had lost your partner, your lover, your other half. It had been nearly thirty-six hours, and you felt as if you hadn’t spent a single minute of that time without crying.

Tears were pricking at your dry eyes. Letting out a shaky sigh, you tried your best to hold off the tears when you spoke. “I don’t know… I don’t know what to say.”

Your voice was wavering by the end of your sentence. Your eyes were sure to be bloodshot, and with the way Molly was looking at you, you didn’t try to hold it off any longer.

Her voice was so kind, so soft, like she was talking to a wounded animal, which perhaps she was. “What happened?”

“I – I broke up with him,” your voice rasped, looking over at your caring friend with watery eyes. Your mouth gapped open, like you were about to say something else but didn’t know what to say. You didn’t really know anything, it seemed.

“I didn’t know,” you could tell Molly was searching for the best things to say to you, but was coming up short as you didn’t give her much to work with. She moved her chair closer to yours, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “I didn’t realize that things weren’t working out.”

“They were,” your voice shook, taking in a heavy breath as your tears started to fall when you spoke. “They were working.”

You fell into your friend’s arms, letting sobs shake through your body. She was quiet as you kept speaking, “There was this thing – a rough patch, I don’t know,” your voice sounded unlike your own. “We were talking, and then suddenly I was telling him we shouldn’t be together anymore.”

Molly’s hand squeezed your shoulder. “Is that what you want?”

You shook in her grasp, trying your best to even out your breathing as suddenly you were completely sobbing once again. “No – it was just – I thought we were maybe going to take some time apart, not like this.”

“But he just let me break up with him.”

Turning your head, you blinked rapidly while wiping the tears away with the back of your hand. Opening your mouth to speak once more, you needed to take a deep breath before being able to do so.

Your friend murmured your name quietly, smoothing her hand over your arm in soothing motions.

“I know I hurt him,” you continued quietly, unable to wipe the look on Harry’s face out of your mind. “And I can’t stop thinking that maybe he didn’t want to be with me anymore.”

The tears were back, quiet this time. Not breath-halting sobs but instead a silent stream down your cheeks. “And I don’t know what to do –”

You fell back into the embrace of your friend, quietly crying into the sleeve of her shirt as she hugged you. “I – I’m in love with him,” you muttered, voice sounding so unbelievably broken. “I’m in love with him and I don’t know how to stop.”

She held you close, soft circles of her hand over your shoulder while you cried. You’d never thought of yourself as someone who wouldn’t be able to live without someone else, as someone who needed and depended on anyone other than themselves.

But now you found yourself unable to say three words without completely breaking down in your sorrow.

You sat in that café, simply staring out the window.

Everything was spread out in front of you, just as it had been the other day.

Though you barely picked up your pen, and instead watched the thin flakes fall to cover the ground with a fresh layer of snow. It was calming, compared to the nonstop flurry of thoughts that hadn’t left your head.

You couldn’t even drink the coffee you had ordered, it was making you nauseous.

Everything was making you nauseous.

Everything was coming back, and you felt like you couldn’t even speak. As if when you’d open your mouth, you’d throw up all your pain. Or would break down in hideous sobs. Neither sounded great.

You kept replaying everything that had happened in your head – everything Harry had said to you and everything you had not said.

He’d told you everything you wanted to hear all those months ago, he was fighting for you, which was all you’d wanted in the first place.

But you didn’t know why it made you sad.

Everything was coming back up, everything you tried your best to forget.

Everything that you’d managed to distract yourself into forgetting. You were good at that, and just a month ago you felt okay, you felt like maybe everything was going to be okay. But all of that was forgotten now.

And the worst of it all was that you felt guilty. You felt bad for being the one to pull away first, for being the one to utter the words “maybe we shouldn’t be together”, to be the one to reject him twenty-four hours ago.

You were still at work, as far as Harry knew. He had no doubt it was the case, your overtime hours seeming to grow longer and longer with every passing day.

He felt like he was angrier about if than you were – hating to see the way you were treated and taken advantage at your office, and the way you seemed to be unable to say no to every single thing that was demanded of you.

He knew you were stubborn, he admired your tenacity although he could see it taking a toll on you.

And he felt like he was going crazy. He didn’t know what was going on, but he could feel you slipping away from right between his fingers.

There had been times like this – every relationship had them. Especially with the two of you, both with busy schedules and long periods apart.

Ever since coming back to reality, ever since you’d both returned from your extended vacation in the little French town, you were suddenly pulling away. Throwing yourself back into work, catching up on missed time.

And he knew he wasn’t blameless, the stress of trying to complete his album catching right back up to him. He knew that a partnership took work, the work of both people involved. He also knew he always threw way more of himself into relationships than his partners, but he needed you. He needed you to meet him halfway.

But a strange thing happened, a subconscious reaction to the overwhelming stress that seemed to wrap around the two of you. He was pulling away just as much – there were missed calls and unanswered texts on both ends.

He hadn’t meant to, and he knew, he hoped, that you hadn’t either. You two were serious, honest discussions of spending the rest of your lives together weren’t conversations either of you feared anymore.

Though that stress manifested into fear, and that fear took over both your systems.

Harry’s little rented apartment felt empty.

Now that you had occupied it, now that you’d touched it, eaten in it, slept in it – he could see you everywhere.

There was a dull pain in his chest, in his whole body actually but it seemed to be coming straight from his heart. Dragging his feet along the floor, he ignored the still hot coffee on the counter and fell back into bed.

Bed, where you had been lying not an hour ago. That still smelt faintly of you – where you had spent the night close against his body.

He needed to clean the sheets.

The feeling of your mouth was burned into his skin, your quiet breaths of his name going through his head like a melody he couldn’t forget.

He did what he always seemed to do when he was so incredibly upset over you. He found the flurry of words written about you, page after page of love letters and notes that he’d always thought that maybe one day, he’d send to you.

But he of course never did.

He checked the time for the thirtieth time that minute. He watched the numbers on his phone change. 9:53.

You said that you were going to be at his around ten. And he knew you well enough to know that you were going to be slightly late, just as you always were to things you were nervous about. Still, he checked the time again. 9:54.

The odd ten-something minutes that past were excruciating, but soon he heard the small rattle of a knock at his door. You’d obviously known how to get your way through the security, but the fact that you had to knock when not a over a week ago you were easily letting yourself into his place, into your place – your home – that fact made him unbelievably sad.

He jumped to the door.

Your eyes were wide when he opened the door, your lips slightly parted as if you were about to speak but you never did.

You had spent far too long deciding what to wear, knowing you needed to look good without trying too hard but also, that Harry knew you well enough to know when you were trying too hard.

The hoodie you had on suddenly felt like a bad idea, the same hoodie that was soft and warm and that he would frequently borrow.

“Hi,” he sounded breathless. He thought you looked as beautiful as always, his heart might as well have skipped a beat when he saw you.

You avoided his gaze, watching his feet step aside so that you could walk past him and into the home. You returned his greeting in a quiet “hello”, and you waited anxiously by the door while Harry shut it behind you.

This was it. This was the moment. This could possibly either be the last time you’d see him or the moment that you may reconcile.

“Everything’s where you left it…” Harry started, unsure of how to begin the conversation. He wanted to pull you into his arms, it felt unnatural to stand so far apart, to stand so frigidly with the other. He wanted to kiss you and tell you he loved you, that he didn’t want to be without you. But he didn’t know how when you’d told him that the two of you should break up barely a week ago.

“Okay,” you were nearly whispering. You were afraid you’d start to cry if you spoke too much – if you looked at him a moment too long.

He watched you turn your back to him, following the all too familiar path through the home and up to your room. To his room.

It was bound to be uncomfortable, to be messy. A breakup after over two years of being together, of living together. But he watched, he watched quietly as you rifled through your things and grabbed what was yours. He watched as you took moments too long staring at worn teeshirts – likely trying to remember who they originally belonged to.

The two of you remained fairly quiet through the entire process, quiet murmuring of asking where things had gone or of needs for help.

You wanted to scream.

You wanted to scream at Harry and tell him to take you back, tell him that you never wanted this and that you couldn’t stand to be without him.

You wanted to scream at yourself for even getting yourself into this situation in the first place.

But instead, you stood on opposite sides of a room you once shared.

Harry couldn’t stand it. He hadn’t even realized that he was speaking aloud, but suddenly he was talking to you from across the room saying, “I’ve really missed you.”

You froze. You had nearly not heard him. Turning in your spot, you met his gaze with a shaky breath, and an attempt at a lightness to your tone. “Hasn’t been that long.”

“Feels long,” he murmured, mindlessly fiddling with a shirt lying on the bed.

He hated himself for the way he quieted, instead of shouting a declaration of love before he lost the opportunity.

“I know,” you were just as quiet. “It feels…” you trailed off, and Harry thought you were never going to finish the thought before your whispered to the ground. “Doesn’t feel right.”

You sighed, taking a seat on the bed as you hugged your knees to your chest. A small throbbing of a headache was starting to form, the stress of the day easily getting to you. Packing was already one of you least desired things to do, and packing up your things from your ex’s place? A place which you once shared? You were sure the headache would only grow.

You had been at his for a couple hours by this point, and this was now the most you’ve spoken.

You felt the mattress sink next to you, and when you peeked a glance you saw Harry sitting just a few inches away. His pose was tentative, as if he wanted to touch you, to wrap is arms around you but realized he couldn’t do that anymore.

The tears were inevitable. As soon as you even thought about not crying, it felt as if the prickling over your eyes grew and you needed to bow your head further, resting your forehead over your knees.

This time Harry didn’t hesitate.

Extending his arm out, he wrapped it around your shoulders and pulled himself closer to you until your sides were pressed together. You didn’t protest, rather welcomed his touch and leant into his body.

He was just as warm, smelt just the same – as if those things would change in a mere seven days.

“It doesn’t feel right without you,” Harry slowly bore his heart, voice shaking with a deep breath.

His words sent a new shudder down your spine. “I know,” you choked out a sob, refusing to look up at him, “I don’t know what to do –”

You were going through one of the many planed speeches you’d made, about telling him that this could be written up as a simple little break and nothing more, but it was coming out all wrong.

“I’m here,” was all he said, voice earnest.

You dared to raise your head, to look up at him. You felt the messy wet patches against your cheeks, the spill of tears making themselves known as your glossy eyes met his. He nearly shared your expression, as you noticed his bloodshot eyes and wet eyelashes.

Neither of you spoke.

After a moment, Harry raised his hand that wasn’t holding you close to lightly cup over your cheek, to wipe away the tears that graced your cheek with the pad of his thumb.

Again, you leant into his touch and in fact fell into his embrace.

It felt good to hold each other again.

You swore you didn’t do it on purpose, but when you spoke again you hadn’t realized you were leaning in closer to him until his breath brushed over the top of your lip.

“This past week, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you,” your voice was at a whisper, cracking lightly in your emotional state.

Harry’s words whispered across your skin. “I’m here. You always have me.”

You were closing the gap between your lips, mouth brushing his when you voiced a plain and simple: “Love you.”

Lips touched, a hard kiss that felt like it would bruise your mouths, built up in the sheer intensity of the moment. You breathed each other in, relaxing against the others touch while the tears got wiped away in your close embrace. “I don’t think I’ll ever stop either.”

He returned your affection, whispering that he “can’t imagine not loving you” and the two of you held onto the quiet hope that maybe things weren’t over.

But it was a quiet hope – one that was never really brought out from your hearts and into the air.

What you thought could be a kiss to start something new, a beginning, turned out to be a goodbye kiss.

You sat like that for a while, not speaking, holding onto each other.

After a while, you didn’t know how long but your feet were starting to numb from the way you were sitting, and you both stood and quietly brought your things out to your car.

Neither said a single word about the kiss, or the shared feelings of love.

You left with an awkward wave, wanting to hug him and hold him but when he took a step away from you at the door you found yourself doing the same.

You left thinking, hoping, that maybe this wasn’t the end. Hoping that he must know you well enough to know what your quiet confessions meant.

But he never reached out. And neither did you. You both avoided any social situation in which you might see the other, you both buried yourself in work and distracted yourselves with anything you could.

Harry didn’t want to be in his space alone, a space that once you shared with him. A space that you had just left for what he’d soon learn to be the last time for a long while.

He felt as if he was floating through the space, watching himself from a distant plane as he wandered back into his room.

There was still the indent in the duvet from where you had sat, still the small piles of clothes splayed out that you had left untouched. He felt as if he shouldn’t even sleep in this room tonight.

His eyes fell to the nightstand, where a little gold ring sat. It was yours; it was sitting out in plain sight – there was no way you had missed it.

You’d never admit it, at least not for the time being but you did it on purpose. The small things you left behind, you wanted Harry to have them. Whether he’d stare at them ever night, or throw them into a fire or shove them under his bed, you didn’t care. You needed pieces of you to remain with him.

He picked up the ring, lightly examining it before trying it on a few of his fingers. It fit perfectly over his ring finger – he didn’t dwell of the irony of that fact.

He didn’t even realize he had pulled out his notebook until his pens was messily scribbling over the paper. Tearing out a page, he started over, and over, as if he needed to refine the perfect letter for you.

Words of love, of anger, repeating over and over again.

“I wish I could tell you this. I miss you dearly.”

Months went by and the stack of half-written letters only grew.

He’d slip them inside of his notebooks, carrying them around with him. He’d put them with certain memories of you, days where he wrote about nothing but his love for you.

Those slips of worn paper even found themselves back in France with him, when he on a whim decided that he should return. Harry knew it was a desperate attempt to feel closer to you, and as luck, or fate, or whoever would have it, he found you there too.

Harry wondered if you’d left Annecy by now. You’d never said how long you were here for, and he couldn’t imagine you sticking along for long after the other day.

He himself considered packing everything up and leaving, a fresh start for his fresh start.

Even reconsidering it once more, he was checking the schedule for the trains that left the city when a noise broke his train of thought.

A quiet knock sounded from the door.

Harry thought he had maybe imagined it – maybe it was coming from outside, it was such a soft noise he wasn’t all that sure that there really anyone at the door.

But then he heard it again.

Louder this time, maybe even frantic.

He grew nervous, slow steps towards the door. It had to be someone else who lived in the building, because there were few people who knew where he was and even fewer who were in this very town with him.

His heart leapt in his throat when he opened the door.

You stood on the other side, wide eyes gazing up to meet his as the wooden door swung open. You had on the same thick black coat as you did the other day, same peach toned embroidered patterns running up the front and up to the collar.

He watched your mouth part open, no words coming out. One of your hands was hanging by your side, the other grabbing onto the straps of your tote back that seemed heavy over your shoulder. You had on thin brown gloves.

“What are you doing here?” Harry nearly choked out the words, gripping tightly on the frame of the door as he stared you down.

“I – I don’t know,” you responded, voice wavering slightly.

He sighed, watching as your eyes flicked down to the floor for a moment before meeting his once more when you heard his soft exhale. “I was heading to the café again – and I don’t know – I kept walking. Ended up here.”

You fell silent once more. He so desperately wanted to fill the quiet gap, but held his tongue. He didn’t need embarrass himself with any more desperate pleas.

“I’ve been thinking a lot,” you suddenly said, voice louder this time as you tired to recall any of the script you had thought over on the walk up. You held his gaze, eyes steady on each other. “About everything that happened with us.

He didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad one.

“And I just…wanted to see you again.”

His heart leapt again, feeling like it was growing wings and trying to fly out of his chest. He parted the door open wider in his grasp, leaving a gap in the doorway. “Did you want to come in?”

You hesitated in your steps. You really did want to accept his invitation, but you also knew how easily you could get wrapped up in him if you were so much as standing in the same room.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea…” you started, watching his face fall slightly. You quickly spoke again. “But maybe we could get dinner?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Like a date?”

“Yeah,” the corners of your lips perked slightly, softening your expression. “Like a date.”

He mirrored your smile, watching as you shifted your weight on your feet. You were making no effort to hide your nerves, something he appreciated. “Tonight?”

You nodded. “If that works for you.”

“It does, yeah,” he didn’t need to think about it.

“Okay,” you nodded once more, biting at your bottom lip. “Can I maybe get your number? I think I only have your old one.”

He nodded, of course you could have his number. He didn’t dare let his thoughts entertain how you knew the number you had was no longer his, the thought of you calling him only to be met with nothing was a little too heartbreaking to think about at the moment.

After he added himself to your phone once again and sent himself a text so he’d have yours again (he’d deleted it one night on an impulse, one night after a few too many drinks that he immediately regretted the next day).

“I’ll let you know the details for tonight,” you told him, after sliding your phone back into your pocket and readjusted the bag over your shoulder.

“I look forward to it,” he smiled at you, a newfound giddiness in his nerves. “I’ll see you tonight.”

You were off as quickly as you hard arrived, walking back out onto the street and down the newly plowed sidewalk to sit in the café once more and hopefully get some work done before you were to see Harry later that day.

All while Harry was restless all day, mind unable to turn off as he felt excited to see you again. He tried not to get overly optimistic, but it was hard not to.

You had texted him not much more than an hour after seeing him, telling him to meet you at the restaurant at seven o’clock.

The day had past for to slowly. He tried to busy himself, but nothing really seemed to work so all he could really do was wait until he was time for him to head out and meet you.

When the time finally came, he was practically sprinting down the street, happy to see the restaurant you had chosen was well within walking distance from his place. He got there early, but didn’t care. He knew that when you were nervous, you would show up just a bit late, so it was no surprised when you joined him at the table a little past seven.

He sat up straighter as you settled in the chair across from him, shrugging off the same thick black coat to hang off the back of your chair.

Immediately he noticed the locket that he’d gifted you, sitting against your skin directly between your collarbones. Your blouse looked silky, easily sitting around your shoulders with ruched sleeves that led to a form fitting front. The pale green seeming like it was glowing in the dim light of the restaurant.

“Hi,” your blush-swept cheeks rounded as you smiled up at him.

“Ordered us some wine,” he motioned to the bottle that was now sitting on the side of the table. “Hope that’s okay.”

“More than,” you smiled again, hand reaching over to grab your wine glass that had already been filled by the waiter a few minutes ago.

Small talk seemed insignificant at the moment, something that shouldn’t have to be endured by the two of you. But jumping right into an emotionally intense conversation didn’t sound like a good idea either.

“Bonne soirée mademoiselle,” the waiter interrupted the silence, greeting you before asking the both of you if you knew what you’d like to eat.

In slightly broken French you told him you both needed a minute before ordering. Both able to distract yourself as you glanced over what to order, only words shared about what looked good on the menu. But after sending off the waiter with your orders, the same silence settled once more.

“So,” Harry broke the silence, “if this is a date, are we not friends anymore?”

You smirked, a light expression that you easily hid behind your wine glass. “I don’t know,” you hummed, after swallowing the dark red liquid. “What do you think?”

“Not friends,” he affirmed. “Maybe something a bit more.”

It was incredible how easily you’d settled into this little teasing back and forth, how effortlessly seductive you could be.

You bit your lip once more, holding in whatever you were about to say. He watched you take another sip of wine, lips folding together when you swallowed the alcohol, a stray drop of red liquid staining your lips. Releasing your lips, your tongue made a quick swipe to collect any wine before you looked back up at your ex, and he had to tear his eyes away from your mouth.

Harry let out a quiet exhale. “You can’t keep me guessing,” he said, voice softer this time. “You have to give me something.”

You paused in your movement then, placing the glass back down on the table. You were glad for the wine as it helped settle the nerves that were building back up. “I was thinking a lot, about the other day. About everything really.”

He nodded, silently urging you to continue.

“Uhm well,” you blinked a few times, breaking his gaze, “– I never really let myself think about everything, you know?”

You suddenly seemed to forget everything you were planning on telling him.

“Do you remember that day – the last time we saw each other? When I picked up my things.”

Harry nodded again, eyebrows furrowing a bit as he tried to see what you were going to say.

You nearly wanted to laugh, not out of humour, at the memory of that day. You took a deep breath, forcing the confession from your mouth. “I wanted us to get back together that day,” you said, watching Harry’s expression closely. “To tell you it was all a mistake.”

Harry’s eyes widened, watching you very closely but he still didn’t utter a single word.

“And I hoped – maybe we would.” Your head was spinning at the memory, of the painful day that only led to more heartbreak.

“I thought that maybe –” Harry started, recalling that day just as well. “But I never saw you again.”

A quietness surrounded your table, even in the louder chatter of the space around you. Harry spoke again, voice wistful as his eyes held yours. “I should have kissed you longer.”

You needed to break his gaze to stare at the table, not wanting to cry. “I was hurt, I didn’t know how to handle it. After that day, I just needed to push it all away.”

“And I did – I managed for months.”

Harry felt his heart sink, fearing this conversation was going somewhere he hadn’t wanted to think about.

As timing had it, the food arrived at that moment and Harry suddenly thought he was going to be sick, the thought of eating anything the last thing on his mind at the moment.

You both offered tight lipped smiles at the waiter, quiet merci’s, and you didn’t say anything else until he was out of ear shot.

“I managed,” you repeated, voice pulling Harry out of a slightly spiraling train of thought. “But then seeing you here after all this time, and you telling me…”

You felt as if tears could break out at any second. “You telling me you want us to try again – all that pain came right back. Everything I had ignored.”

He murmured your name quietly, before you kept speaking. “But what you said, wanting to give us another shot…”

You looked back at him, wide eyes meeting his straight on. “I never wanted…”

Struggling to find your words once more, you watched as Harry took a big sip of his water.

“I didn’t think we’d actually end up like this,” you murmured quietly, watching Harry pause.

He placed his glass back down, pondering your words for a moment before looking up at you again. “What do you mean?”

“Just that,” you pushed some food around on your plate, the bravery you felt a few moments ago vanishing. “That we would actually split up. Thought it was just a rough patch or something…”

Maybe this wasn’t the conversation to be had in a public place. You felt like you could cry.

Harry’s voice was quiet when he spoke, he didn’t want to sound accusatory. “You were the one to suggest the split.”

As hard as he tried not to sound to pointed, you still flinched slightly at his words. You looked down this time, not looking back at as you trailed your finger over the condensation on your glass of water.

“It was –” you cut yourself off. It was mutual, you were going to say. It wasn’t, though. It never was. The only thing that was mutual was that neither of you really wanted to breakup with to begin with.

“I know,” you said instead after a moment. “I thought – I never thought we’d end up like this though. I thought –” you had to cut yourself off again.

This really wasn’t the conversation to be having in a restaurant where everyone else was happily eating and drinking around you. You looked up at him, willing your voice not to shake.

“I thought you’d fight for me.”

He knew you didn’t intend for your words to hit him with a sharp stab. He knew it very well, but he still felt the jab of pain through his chest.

“I didn’t know…” he breathed lightly, running his hand over his forehead, bringing it over his face before scratching at his jaw. He didn’t know you had felt that way. Maybe communication really had been your downfall. “Fighting for you now, aren’t I?”

Letting out a heavy breath, you let your shoulders relax. “Yeah, you are.”

Harry dared to ask. “Is this, I mean what we’re doing now, do you want us to try again?”

Your bottom lip slipped between your teeth, a mindless habit as you thought over his words. You hadn’t thought of it so formally, more like you were just spending time with your ex.

When you were quiet, and he momentarily started to panic once more as he feared he had misread the situation.

“I do,” you said softly, gazing up at him. He couldn’t help the leap of his heart. “I want to give us a shot.”

You both stared at each other for a moment, quiet unspoken words shared. His next words were low, as he watched every flicker of your eyes. “How about we treat this like a date then.”

When your lips curved upwards, and you glanced away playfully, he let out a relieved breath once again. “Yeah, how about we do.”

You needed to take a few quiet breaths through your nose, not a few minutes ago on the verge of tears as you thought about the prospects of starting anew with Harry. You’d talk more after.

“What do you say to desert?”

You leant forward over the newly cleared table with a forearm on the wood, only a spot of wine left in your glass that you swirled in one hand.

The remainder of the evening after your little talk had been nothing but lovely.

It was like it was back to being you, back to the dynamic you’d always had together.

Discussing everything and anything that happened in your time apart, anecdotes as minor as catching Harry up on the gossip from your now old workplace.

The wine had very likely contributed to the increasingly flirty glances, and touches. It felt good to touch each other again.

Hand falling over his on the table, his knee bumping yours under the table. It was all innocent, all completely crumbling whatever idea you’d might’ve had over the idea of ever being over Harry.

You were both completely enthralled with each other.

Harry couldn’t for a second take his eyes off of you, even following your every move until you disappeared around the corner when you headed to the toilet.

You seemed to glow the more the evening went on, a happy sheen taking over your eyes and it only warmed his heart further.

Not only that, but every lingering stare and teasing touch was only adding to the growing desire he had for you. He wanted to hold you, to kiss you, to feel your body pressed against his.

Memories of the two of you didn’t help, memories that he apparently would never forget, especially as your teeth bit down into your bottom lip and your leg extended under the table to firmly press against his own.

“And what do you suggest as desert?”

“Anything you want,” he spoke lowly, eyes flirting with yours. “Back at mine?”

You bit your bottom lip down, the offer not surprising you but still sent a familiar tingle down your spine. “Desert to go, then?”

“If your up for it.”

He turned in his chair, signaling for the check which he swiftly paid without giving you a single moment to object. You tried your hardest to bite down your smile, lips sucked in against your teeth as you watched the man in front of you push his arms through the sleeves of his coat.

You did the same, holding his eyes in a silent agreement to his offer. You were promptly walking out into the cool air outside. Harry’s hand grabbed yours,

Fingers interlocked, he kept you close to him as the both of you walked. You were glad you hadn’t put your gloves back on, feeling the warmth of his palm against yours.

Walking side by side along the familiar sidewalks, through the old town while crowds were dwindling down in the later hours of the evening. Harry’s pace slowed at one point, hand squeezing yours as you walked past the arrays of ice cream shops that would have lines through the street if it were summer.

“You want one?” Harry swung your locked hands forward, pointing to one of the still open parlors.

You turned to look at him, his cheeks reddened by the cold. “You were serious about the desert?”

He bumped his hip to yours, arm moving to instead wrap around your shoulders with your hand still holding him, his forearm against your chest to hold you close. His lips pressed over the side of your head, feeling the heat of his breath over your skin. “’Course – what did you think I meant?”

You chose not to answer his teasing words, instead just squeezing his hand in your grasp. “It’s too cold for ice cream.”

His lips moved from the back of your head, mouth lingering by your ear. “I have some of those chocolates you love so much – since you seem so eager to get back to mine.”

“You’re impossible,” you laughed, sinking back into his side as you continued your walk through the town and up the hill.

It wasn’t long until you were back in the warmth of his rented apartment, shaking the cold from your fingertips and snow from your jackets.

Harry had been true to his word, pulling out a little white box of chocolates with the familiar stamp over it. They were just as delicious as you’d remembered, indulging in the treat sitting next to Harry, each with a fresh glass of wine.

You borrowed his sweater that was hanging off the chair, and Harry couldn’t have imagined a more natural sight.

Sitting in his warm clothes, sharing sweet treats and dark red glasses of wine. Laughing together, talking, sitting pressed against each other with warmed skin and blissed smiles.

The intention to stay the night with him was an unspoken one, so when the night seemed to slow and you excused yourself to the washroom, Harry felt nearly nervous.

After a few moments, you found Harry with his back turned to you in the kitchen. You paused in your steps, watching him for a moment. He was tinkering around with something, placing mugs back in the cupboards and moving dishes around. He seemed to be only distracting himself, as if waiting for you while you were in the washroom.

He heard you coming up from behind him, but he still jumped slightly when your hand was placed over his back with a light touch. He turned to look at you, neither of you speaking for a moment as your hand slid up over his shoulder.

You looked soft in the warm lighting. Your makeup had been washed off, still in his sweater that hung around your hips. You looked just as beautiful, just as inviting as you lightly bit your lips together, watching him quietly. He wanted to hold you, to kiss you.

Harry cleared his throat. “Ready to go to bed?”

His voice came out low, scratchy, like it hadn’t been used in a while.

You didn’t say anything, holding back a smile. Your hip bumped his, sliding yourself closer to him as your hand joined the other around his shoulders.

He easily brought you in closer to him, hands finding their rightful place around the small of your back and his gaze teased over yours, a slow and obvious glance as you instinctively wet your lips. There hadn’t been a single kiss shared since the other morning, and you both deserved one, didn’t you?

A small soundless laugh left your parting mouth, you suppose it was a nervous reaction – nerves that were nearly unfamiliar to you even if this situation was anything but.

His lips found your own, after a nudge of his nose over yours and a tilt of your jaw to meet him halfway.

Although it was just the other day you had felt his mouth against yours, this was all the more different. This wasn’t an impulse decision based on confused feelings and desire, this was rather clear feelings and still a good dose of desire.

Lips soft over yours at first, he placed only a light lingering kiss over your mouth before silently pulling away. Your eyes parted open, watching him through your eyelashes as he held your silent gaze, leaning back in to press a light kiss over the corner of your mouth. He repeated the same move, leaning back and then forward once more to kiss over the other side, just at the crest of your lips.

It was with soft, tantalizing moves – of quiet brushes of lips around your face before his mouth met yours.

One of his hands raised from your hip, cupping the side of your face to hold you closer. You fully leant into his every touch, melting into his warm skin as his mouth enveloped yours. It was with slow touches at first, of breathing each other in before your tongue pushed against his and you opened up further to the other.

He tasted like the chocolate you had shared, like sweet red wine and like Harry. Your Harry. The one who you got the pleasure of calling your partner for nearly two years, the one who’d made you feel loved like never before. He tasted like home.

You were perfectly slotted between his body and the counter, your behind pushing up against the countertop as Harry pushed himself closer to you.

With your chests pressed closely, you were all wandering hands and breathy sighs as you indulged in a kiss filled with nothing but desire.

Harry’s hands skimmed over your sides, brushing over the soft fabric of the borrowed sweater. “You’re gorgeous,”

His lips found their way over your chin, silently urging you to tilt your jaw up so that he could press soft sucks over your neck. “Smell so fucking good.”

Murmuring a quiet, “shit,” over your skin, you could feel his lips turn up to a smile. “You’re everything to me, y’know that?”

Your smoothed a hand from his cheek up to his hair, light scratches over his scalp in a silent urge to feel his mouth on yours again. His words were making your head spin, a rapid beating of your heart paired with the slow burn of butterflies in your stomach.

Capturing his mouth with your own, you breathed him in with soft touches of lips that were quickly growing faster, heavier. Messy clashes of teeth, of muffled sighs and quiet calls of each others names.

His hips were pushing against yours – and although at this point you truly knew all his moves, you still had a small hitch of your breath at the feeling of his centre lightly rutting over yours. You sighed his name into his mouth, as he swallowed your quiet breaths as if to keep them at the back of his mind forever.

“We don’t have to do anything,” he breathed, lips smeared over your jaw. “Take it as slow as you want.”

You were smiling at the ceiling, hands gripping into the smooth fabric of his shirt, excitement growing at his words. You knew very well what you wanted.

“And what do you want?” You countered, feeling his lips smile on your skin.

He pulled away from you just enough so that your gazes could meet, staring you down with gleaming eyes and swollen lips. “You – it’s always you.”

The words were kissed over your mouth. “God, what’re you doing to me,” he breathed a quiet laugh. “Driving me crazy, angel.”

It was your turn to smile into the kiss, squeezing his shoulder in quiet response. “I want this. I want you.”

Harry didn’t answer, and instead just captured your mouth in another breathless kiss. It didn’t take long before he was pulling you out of the kitchen, flicking off the overhead light as you both followed the glow that came from the bedroom.

His hand clasped with yours, a quiet excitement around the both of you. As you followed closely behind him you couldn’t help the small turn in your lips, the rapid beating of your heart along with the growing desire for the man leading you to his bed.

You were both quiet, the grip of your hands breaking as Harry turned off one of the lights, only the soft glow of the bedside lamp illuminating the room. You tugged off the thick yellow sweater, placing it on the dresser across from the bed, and you were back in only your silky blouse.

When you turned around, you saw Harry sitting on the mattress, his legs off the side of the bed with his feet planted on the floor. His eyes met yours, a soft smile gracing his features as you stood an arms length away.

“Come here,” his voice was low, the simple phrase sending shivers down your spine.

You placed a palm in his extended hand, making the few steps needed to get to standing in front of him. His other hand raised, cupping your cheek while his legs spread for you to stand between them.

Wrapping an arm around the back of his neck, you both held each other for a moment as you took the other in. You were the first to break the silent staring contest, leaning down until your forehead pressed against his and it only took a few seconds before your lips were together.

The feeling of his thumb brushing under your bottom lip was a soothing one, as he pressed one, two three sweet pecks against your mouth before pulling you in closer.

You nearly stumbled on your feet, still standing as you leant down to meet the mouth of your lover. Harry raised your interlocked fingers, placing your hand around the back of his neck to meet your other, before he placed his own hand firmly over the soft fabric covering the curve of your hip.

A soft exhale came from your nose as his lips parted with yours, licking into your mouth as the kissed deepened. Your breath mixed, the grip of your fingers tightening around him as your kiss grew a little more purposeful. His hand that rested over your cheek brushed lower, gripping your chin between his thumb and index to tilt your face even closer to his.

You were so pliable under his touch, following every motion that he lead you to. It was like getting to know each other all over again, the quiet excitement of feeling the others body, paired with the intimate familiarity of the man in front of you.

Your lips broke apart so that Harry could sponge his mouth down your jaw, breathing hotly against you with a trail of wet kisses on the sensitive skin. His hand squeezed your hip, muttering over your neck. “C’mere-“

The words were a deep rumble from his chest, moving back and slightly breaking his touch with you as he slid back further on the mattress. You easily followed him, knees dipping into the duvet as you found your place over his lap.

“Sorry – !” Your voice rose above a whisper when your chin bumped his nose as you lowered over him to press a kiss over his cheek, just as he was seeking your mouth. You felt his chest shake with a laugh, hands smoothing on either of your hips to pull you onto his lap.

“Stay –” his voice was muffled with his mouth sliding over your chin, “– right here.”

His hands held you tightly, thumbs pushing up under your shirt to rub over the bare skin that protruded over the tight waistband of your pants.  

A kiss was pressed on the corner of your lip, Harry moving back to meet your gaze for a flicker of a moment, before leaning in to press a linger kiss to your cupid’s bow. You both easily found your rhythm once more, mouths finding each other with a newfound need for the other.

Your stomach was warmed as his hands splayed over your skin, feeling the small tugs on the light fabric of your shirt when Harry pinched the material in his fingers. Your lips left his in a subtle pant, feeling his light stubble over your cheek when you titled your head to plant your mouth over his jaw.

Your name left his mouth paired with a low moan, all while you puckered your lips over his skin, sucking softly and left a trail of wet marks down the column of his neck. Your fingers were woven through his hair, light pulls over the strands as he let out shaky breaths above you.

His hands were venturing higher under your blouse, fingertips playing with the lace detail of your bra. You melted under his touch; his hands were warm and you couldn’t help but whimper lightly over his neck when he palmed over your breast.

Harry let his head hang low, tips of his hair tickling your shoulder as he mumbled quietly. “You look beautiful tonight,” he breathed you in. “Have I told you that?”

You only hummed over his skin, thighs squeezing his a little tighter when he tugged at your bra. “Let’s get this off you,” he murmured.

Pulling back from him, you met his gaze with heavy eyes and parted lips. His own lips were swollen, kissed darker and looked oh so inviting for more. You hoped you looked just as enticing. You glanced down at the miniscule gap between the both of you, as his hands raised under your blouse to pull it over your head.

Tossing it somewhere on the floor, his touch was back on your bare skin within seconds as he tugged your bra straps down your shoulders, and attached his lips on your collarbone. His mouth was soft, lips wet from swiping his tongue over them before planting them to your skin once more. He was holding you so tightly, hands smoothing flatly over your bare middle in soft circles.

Placing your hands over his chest, you blindly sought out the buttons that lined his blue shirt with fast attempts to pull them open. The skin of his chest was warm, the thin buttons slipping under your slightly shaking fingers.

Eventually successful with your task, you greedily pushed the fabric off of his skin as far as you could as he refused to take his hands off of you to help fully remove the item of clothing. His hands were spreading lower over your thighs, sliding over the soft fabric of your trousers until they held your bum with a firm grip. Kneading his fingers into the swell of skin, you keened into his touch and leant your body closer to his with a soft push of your hips.

You found yourself clenching around nothing, no doubt already making a small mess in your underwear as you felt his hardening cock pushing against your thigh. A moan made its way through his mouth, calling your name with a certain breathlessness.

Your bra straps were falling down your shoulders, sitting nearly uncomfortably as your breasts spilled out but you didn’t care, not with Harry’s mouth searching for more and more of your skin until it was circling around one of your nipples. One of his hands had found its way back over your breast, feeling the soft weight in his palm as both his mouth and hand gave your chest attention. With a rush of warmth through your stomach, you tilted your head into the crook of his neck with a sigh over his shoulder.

“This good?” He muttered over your skin, a quiet groan following his words as you arched your back into his touch.

It was the perfect mix of the quiet familiarity along with the excitement of a first time.

You answered him with a breathy “yes”, telling him that it was “so good” and that he definitely should not stop.

You could feel his lips curving into a smile against your skin, pulling away with a small nip of his teeth. The skin where he had left a wet impression of his mouth was cool when he pulled away. He raised his head with sly smile gracing his features as both your breaths were heavy and chests rose and fell in quick puffs.

You felt Harry’s other hand glide over your hips, a small dig of his fingers into your covered skin. A quiet yelp escaped your lips that same hand graced your behind with a small smack, quick motion before he was kneading his fingertips back over your bum. You fell closer against him, holding him tightly as he muttered one more “come here,” and fell back over the mattress until his head hit the pillows.

Your chest followed his as you leant down with him, your weight over him which was something he very much welcomed.

Planting your elbows into the mattress, you supported yourself up as your mouth found his once more. Kissing slowly, enjoying each other for a moment while his hands slid up your bare back and fumbled with the clasp of your bra until it was set loose and you could easily throw it to the floor.

His palms circled from your back to your front, gripping the weight of your breasts in his palms as he felt them rest over his own chest. Tugging at your hardened nipples, you whined into his mouth as rutted your hips over his, the hardness of his cock felt through his pants.

Lifting your mouth from his, he felt his neck crane as he searched to keep your mouths connected for a moment longer. You pressed a light kiss over his cupids bow, fingertips brushing over his cheeks as you watched his eyelids open with soft flutter.

His pupils were blown, quiet smile gracing his lips as his hands petted over your bare back. You returned his smile, tracing the line of his cheek down to his jaw. You mouth following the path that your fingers had drawn, small open-mouthed kisses over the sharpness of his jaw and down to his neck.

Your hands moved down to quickly push at the fabric of his shirt, doing your best to slide it off his shoulders as you urged him to move his arms up with quiet pants over his neck. You felt your heartbeat pounding in your chest.

“Hey,” Harry spoke quietly, one hand grabbing hold of your wrist. He raised your hand, placing a light kiss on the inside of your wrist. “We’re in no rush-“

You smiled down at the man underneath of you, feeling three more kisses pressed over the skin of your wrist before Harry was moving his arms from around you to tug the shirt off of his frame. Leveraging on the mattress, he pushed himself up and in a quick move as your own fingers gripped tightly into his shoulders.

“Easy,” he groaned into your skin moving to ease you over so that your back hit the mattress and he was laid half over you, face hovering by yours. “Just like that.”

With a moment of shuffling limbs, he slotted himself between your parted legs as he held himself with an arm on either side of you. All in a haze, he shot you a lopsided grin before he leant back down, open mouth against yours with a lick over your lips.

A slow, languid kiss as you scraped your nails over his shoulder blades, hugging him close to you as your mouths moved together. Touch growing sloppier, something neither of you minded that much as his wet lips trailed down your chin and down your jaw.

You could feel one of his hands smoothing down your side, holding your frame tightly as if he feared you would disappear at any moment. Although he was the on to tell you to slow down, to relax, you could feel the slight shake in his hands and the breathless pants that never ceased from his lips.

His open mouth pressed hot kisses down your sternum, making his way over with a trail of wet spots left behind before wrapping his lips around one of your nipples. A choked whimper got caught in his throat, the hum vibrating around you as you arched your back into his touch.

He licked over the sensitive nub, gaging your every reaction as a bout of pride wrapped around him when you sighed his name into the air and trailed your fingers over the nape of his neck to grab a firm hold in his hair.

“You like that?” He mumbled over your skin, one hand kneading the soft skin of your breast that he was so enamoured by.

“You know I do,” your voice was a whine, cracking mid sentence.

“I know –” you could hear his smirk, “just making sure.”

One of his hands was smoothing down your side, thumbing at the waistband of your trousers while his thighs pushed tightly against your centre. You couldn’t help the slow moves of your back, arching it up into his touch.

Desperate under his slow touches, you ran your hands down his bare back with your nails gliding over his skin. You could feel his groan over your breast, as he felt your hands move around his hips. Soft fingers brushing over his lower stomach in a way that had his muscles clenching.

“Let me touch you,” you whimpered over his hair. Harry slowly rose his head, glistening lips moving to a smile when you quietly repeated, “I want to make you feel good.”

He lifted his torso up a bit, slowly moving off of your body. He was easily giving in to what you wanted, hoisting himself up higher over you until he was sat on his knees. You easily followed, crossing your legs as you sat across from your lover.  

Never going that long without touching you, one of his hands lightly cupped your cheek to lean forward and press a lustful kiss to your mouth. “Please,” his voice was raw, “please, touch me.”

Your hands quickly found the button of his pants when he pulled back, while he watched and leant forward on his knees. You head hung low and you made quick work to pop the button and tug the zipper down, fingers brushing over the skin above the waistband as you pulled on the fabric.

“Go on,” he spoke lowly, helping you as he moved over the bed so that you could bring the fabric over his hips. Your fingers hooked under the band of his briefs as well, sliding them down along with his trousers. “Gonna get me out?”

You didn’t offer him an answer, instead gave up on fully removing his pants and instead only pulled them to the middle of his thighs. You placed a hand over his bare leg, eyes falling down to his cock, thick and hotly aching to feel your touch.

A low inhale could be heard from Harry’s parted lips, as you trailed your fingertips over the familiar outline of the tattoo on his thigh. You brought your hand up over the crest of his leg, and brushed a light touch over the underside of his cock. A shakier inhale was heard, as Harry silently watched you lazily move your fingertips over him.

You bowed your head lower, tucking your legs under your bum as you easily recalled every little move that made Harry shudder above you.

He had one hand planted on the mattress behind him, leaning back slightly in a way that exposed more of his skin to you. You easily took the invitation, leaning forward to place a flurry of kisses over his lower stomach following the little trail of hair. Soft suction of your mouth over the skin leading to his pelvis, you felt one of Harry’s hands raise to lay lightly over the back of your head.

His fingers lightly scratched over your scalp, a light and comforting action as a murmur of your name was heard from above. Your mouth was slowly making its way to where he was begging. The muscles in his stomach jumped when you licked a slow strip over the underside of his cock, lips lingering over him for a beat before circling around his tip with a light suck. Keeping your grip at his base, you dragged your tongue over his tip as you let the saliva from your mouth fall over him.

“Good – that’s good –” Harry moaned from above you, hand trailing down to your jaw. He watched as you took him into your mouth, not as much as he knew you could and just enough to get him wet – wet and wanting more as you tightened your lips around him. Sliding your hand over the wetness you had created, moving over his balls with light touches, so light he couldn’t help but groan with a buck of his hips.

You felt Harry’s thumb brush lovingly over your cheek as he seemed lost of what to say.

Your glossy eyes met his glazed ones, feeling the utter desire in his look while he watched you. Briefly pulling off of him, you murmured a quiet, “feels good?”

Harry shuddered above you, needing to ground himself as you were working him up far too quickly. You were back on him within seconds, as he choked out a broken “feels like heaven.”

Tightening your lips around him, you dipped your head lower with a slow exhale through your nose, dragging your tongue over more of him.

“Fuck,” he wheezed, “jus’ like that, just like that,” he was rambling, unable to form a coherent thought, as quiet whines broke through his words, “good girl.”

You moaned around him, soft vibrations only adding to the pleasure that was raging hot inside of him. He nearly lost it when you bowed your head, eyes looking up through your lashes to meet his heavy gaze.

If you didn’t stop soon he was going to meet his release down your throat.

Sliding his fingers under your jaw, he muttered quietly as your movements eased over him. “Y’gonna make me cum,” he spoke breathlessly.

“Lie down, yeah? Let me feel you.”’

His fingers under your jaw were gently easing you off of his cock. Your mouth left him with a heavy breath, lips still parted as you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. Straightening out your spine until you were more at level with him, watery eyes peering into his. Harry easily regained his grip over your cheek, kissing you slowly, lazily, while pushing you to lie down on your back once again.

Once your head hit a pillow and he was hovering over you, Harry kicked off his pants the rest of the way before smoothing his hands over the skin of your tummy. He was pulling off your belt and pulling your trousers fall down yours legs within seconds, leaving you in only a thin little pair of underwear.

He brushed a hand over your inner thigh, as you watched his every move with hungry eyes. “Can I feel you,” he kissed your cheek. “D’you want that?”

Your grip over his shoulder tightened. “Yes,” you moaned into the air, jolting lightly when his thumb brushed over your covered core. “I’m –”

You couldn’t help the way you squeezed your legs together, the soft pulsing of your core driving you crazy. He placed a light kiss over your lips, pulling back with a slow smile.

“You’re what, angel?”

You bit your lip down hard at the use of the pet name, holding back a moan. “I want you – I’m wet. I … Harry!”

You couldn’t help but cry out when his hand pushed between your thighs, slipping under the elastic of your underwear so he could brush over your folds. “You’re wet,” he repeated it like it was a prayer, two fingers sliding over you. “So wet.”

“You’ve got to open your pretty legs for me,” he watched your eyes screw shut. “Just like that – good,” he praised as your legs opened for him.

Hooking a finger under the thin band that sat around your hip, he pulled the flimsy fabric down to the middle of your thighs as his other hand held your legs down, keeping them parted for him. You turned your head on the pillow, eyes catching Harry’s as his face hovered next to yours and he watched you with lust filled eyes.

You wrapped the arm closest to him around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss while his fingers moved up to your clit. You were getting him sticky with your wetness, as he drew slow patterns over the sensitive bit of nerves. You were moaning into his mouth, teeth hitting his chin as you panted over each other.

“How’re you feeling?” He kissed the words over your skin, nose brushing your cheek as he pressed his chest over your side.

“Good,” whimpering over his skin, you ached to feel just something more. “You’re always good – always know what I want.”

You could feel his lips curve to a smile over your cheek, fingers venturing lower before he had two pushing inside of you. You gasped a breath, the slight stretch something you welcomed – something you had missed.

You were just as warm and wet as he remembered – as he tried not to think about late at night when he was missing you and was lonelier than usual. Your hips bucked into his hand, biting your lips down when he pushed his fingers against that perfect spongey spot inside of you.

The hold of your teeth over your lips didn’t last long, lips parting when Harry muttered a low “let me hear you,” and you were moaning his name. With a slow and steady rhythm inside of you, he moved his thumb up over your clit again.

His hand was getting covered in your arousal, the two fingers pumping with intent inside of you. His lips were pressing a flurry of kisses along your skin, from capturing your lips to sucking and biting into the crook of your neck. Other hand was smoothing over your skin, leaving a hot path in its wake, so hot like you could combust at any second.

Wrapping an arm around the back of his neck, keeping his lips closed to your skin as you blindly pulled at his messy strands of hair. Clenching around him, he sucked into your skin harsher at the way you felt, at the way your fingers scratched over his skin.

Harry watched your face twist in pleasure – your eyes shut tight with your lips either harshly bit between your teeth or parting to let out the most beautiful moans.

You were both thrown right back into it, right back into the familiar touches and sounds and moves. You’d both thought about it countless times, but reliving it and making it a reality once more like this was indescribable.

Small incomprehensible words were heard from your mouth, mutterings of how much you missed him and how incredible he was making you feel. He knew every move that made your moan, ever little word to mutter into your ear – always paired with a heart fluttering pet name.

He was working you up so well, every move his ins fingers over you and inside of you making you breath a little heavier, made that warm coil in the pit of your stomach grow just that much hotter.

Your hand not around his back gripped his bicep, squeezing the skin tightly as you tried to think clearly. “Wait,” your voice was hoarse, spent. “Not yet.”

He craned his neck, raising his head from the crook of your neck, and placed a light kiss over your lips. Opening your fluttering eyelids, you saw him watching you with heavy, dark eyes as if he wanted to make sure he didn’t miss a single thing. Slowly withdrawing his fingers from you, he slid them over your folds, skin slick and wet under his touch as he drew languid circles over your clit.

“Want to feel me?” He whispered, breath felt over your cheek. He trailed his hand away from between your legs, light brushes of his wet fingers over your thighs.

You simply nodded, unable to properly think and he left another smattering of kisses over your chin and over your lips. Catching his mouth with yours, your tongue slowly licked over his bottom lip as he pulled away with a groan, hoisting himself higher over you to sit back on his knees next to you.

It was all familiar, but all felt brand new at the same time. The way his hands grabbed your hips, the low raspy tone in his words when he whispered, “how d’you want me?”

Legs parting wider from either side of him, hooking your ankles around his hips as you attempted to tug him towards him. Peering up at Harry from where you laid, you took a heavy breath before asking him, “like this?”

He paused, only for a brief split-second before swallowing a dry breath and nodded his head. “However you want,” he muttered, hands back on you within seconds. Spreading his palm over your hips, he leant down over you a pressed a kiss to your sternum, “whatever you want.”

He leant down with his knees dipping into the soft mattress, while his chest hovered over yours and his hands rubbed over your sides. He raised his head, lips nearing yours with a soft mutter. “Condom?”

You hadn’t considered the need to protection until then. Thinking it over for split-second, you shook your head as you met his eyes. “No I – I haven’t,” you paused mid breath. Haven’t been with anyone since you.

He seemed to understand your silent words. “Me neither,” he murmured lightly, pressing himself closer to you. You could feel his cock right there at the crest of your thigh, an arch in your back deepening as you grew desperate to feel him.

Repositioning himself on his knees, he raised his chest and kept and firm grip over your hip while his other hand gripped the base of his cock. You pushed back against him, not really caring how eager you were for him as he cursed breathlessly.

“Relax,” his words were clipped, the head of his cock entering you in a slow thrust. “Fuck – there we go – it’s just me.”

Letting out a deep breath as he eased himself in, the stretch familiar but still caused a shiver down your spine as it was something you hadn’t felt in nearly a year. Pushing back against him, feeling more of him slip inside of you as a sputter of words left Harry lips.

“You feel too good – fuck -,” you shifted your legs around him, the rest of him pushing inside of you as his pelvis hit yours His hands smoothed over your hips. “Please tell me it’s okay, please.”

He was everywhere, the best possible way. You sank into the mattress, thighs squeezing his hips as you ground your hips up into his.

A broken, “please baby,” escaped your lips.

Harry started with slow movements, needing a second to compose himself as feeling you in the most intimate way he could was already driving him close to the edge.

“Please what?” He muttered, a shallow thrust inside of you that had both of you biting back moans.

“More,” you whined lowly. He was holding you so tightly you were sure to be bruises, and one of his hands moved down to smooth over your thigh, a sharp smack sounding through the air paired with the light sting as you moaned into your arm. You let out a dreamy breath, feeling him pump deeper thrusts inside of you.

And God he was deep. You felt a burn deep inside your stomach, the repeating motions of his hips pushing into yours was felt so deliciously inside of you. Harry was already panting from above you, sharp breaths as he leant his weight back over yours to drag his mouth over your neck.

One of his hands sneaked around your legs, palm smoothing over your lower stomach with a slow and soothing pattern, a sharp contrast to the way he was deeply pushing into you.

“Oh…!” You moaned lowly when the hand over your belly sneaked down lower, two fingers circling over your clit right above where you were connected. “Harry –”

“Tell me it’s good,” he breathed, fingers rubbing over the sensitive bit of nerves.

“Always,” you called, voice wavering unattractively. Your own moan cut you off, voice tapering away as it seemed to get caught in your throat when his fingers moved on your clit with purpose. “You feel so good.”

Harry was watching your every reaction to him, attentive to the way you reacted – he was happy to feel as though nothing had changed after all this time, he was happy to see that you were enjoying this just as much as he was.  

He found himself holding back his tongue as confessions of love were about to spill from his lips.

Whine laced breaths were caught on Harry’s mouth when he pressed it against your own in a heavy kiss. His hips were pumping into yours with a steady pace, as if each move was so perfectly calculated when really the simple truth was that you both worked perfectly well together.

Your core was clenching around him, not even realizing that you were doing so as the euphoria in your body was building right back up. You were quietly whining his name, barely aware of the way your nails dug into his back.

Your first orgasm of the night came suddenly. It was as if something quickly snapped inside of you, a sharp break as you were quickly pushing your hips into his with an arch in your back, calling for the heavens and Harry.

His lips hovered by your ear, murmuring a string of praises while your core spasmed around him in the aftershocks of your release. It wasn’t the most mindblowing orgasm of your life, but after a long time of not being properly taken care of, it was just what you needed.

Harry barely slowed as you came around him, chest heaving into yours at the sharp pleasure of feeling you come. Though that steady pace faltered when the burning pit in his stomach seemed to grow hotter. He knew he needed to take a moment otherwise he’d be coming far too soon and he really didn’t want your first time back together again wasn’t the best he could give you.

After a short shallow thrust, the feeling of being full was suddenly lost to you as Harry slipped out of you. “Oh,” he muttered, leaning back from above you. He let out a breathless laugh, small shake in his hands. “Fuck – baby you feel incredible.”

But when he didn’t push back inside of you, you looked up at him with glossy eyes with a quiet whine of “what are you doing?”

His chest shook with a breath, squeezing his eyes shut as he willed himself to calm down. “Just, give me a sec’,” he focused all his attention on the slow movement of your hand brushing down his back.

He opened his eyes as a soft giggle escaped your lips, meeting your shinning eyes as he took in every inch of your face. Your fluttering eyelids, blissed out smile that graced your swollen lips, and rounded cheeks that followed your grin.

Raising one hand to cup over your jaw, he traced every line and curve of your face with his thumb as his lips lightly followed its path. After a quiet whimper of his name, he let his mouth fall over yours and kissed you deeply. A hand slid up over the side of your face, fingers petting over your hair in repetitive motions.

“How’re you feeling?” His lips moved over your mouth as they formed the words.

“Good,” you swallowed a dry breath. “really good.”

“We always were really good at this – take care of each other,” you could hear his smirk as his hips rutted over yours, cock sliding over the crest of your thigh. “Made for each other.”

Moaning a breathless yeah, he kissed you deeply once more before you were whining his name into his mouth.

“Please – want you to come,” you kissed over his jaw. “Fuck me – please.”

Harry sucked in a breath with a hiss, your words eliciting a twitch of his length against you. He pushed his hips with your once more, telling you a cheeky “anything for you.”

Lining himself with you once more, pushing in as he kissed over your jaw. He knew it wouldn’t be long until he would be met with his release, and with the way you were clenching around him he hoped you would as well.

You were pushing your hips up to meet his thrust, back arching over the mattress as your fingertips scratched over his back, never letting go. He was still just as deep, still hitting every spot that made you clench around him and call his name into the air as you didn’t know what to do with yourself.

Grabbing under one of your thighs, he urged you to hook your legs around his waist. “Right over here,” he begged, as you easily complied, feeling him fit so snug with you. “Good girl,” he kissed the words over your lips. “Keep me here.”

He was easily working you right back up. The sex was always good with him, and you didn’t know if it was because of the recent reunion, the desperateness of the act, but this seemed especially good.

Your eyes were screwed shut, focusing on every feeling of his skin against yours. You felt Harry’s lips press gently over your closed lids.

His mouth was all over you – his hands were all over you. He was everywhere. And you welcomed every bit of it.

“Wanna,” he muttered. “Want to see you,” a kiss was pressed to your shoulder, “open your eyes for me?”

A broken praise of a low “good girl” was mumbled from his lips, as you parted your heavy lids and gazed up at him. His cheek brushed yours, seeming to kiss over every inch of your face. He bowed his head, watching the way your bodies connected – the way he sunk so deeply into you.

His pace was unrelenting, fingers gripping tightly into your skin. One of his hands slid down your arm, unwrapping it from around his back to slot your fingers together and push you into the mattress. You squeezed his hand tightly in your grip, whimpering lowly from beneath him.

He moved your connected hands up over your head, driving down inside of you in deep moves. His lips latched to your neck, muttering near nonsense over your skin. “You make me feel so good,” he groaned, “heavenly.”

Choking over a gasp when Harry’s free hand smoothed over your thigh, kneading into the swell of your bum only to give a small smack over the skin. Involuntarily clenching around him, his hips bucked as his pace grew a little more desperate.

He was nearly shaking from above you. “I’m close –”

You moaned his name over his cheek.

He grunted with a sharp thrust. “Say my name like that, shit, talk to me.”

“Harry…” your voice was low, a whisper over your skin. “Come for me, please I want to feel you.”

He screwed his eyes shut, feeling it near impossible to hold off any longer. The muscles in his stomach were clenched tight, hand holding onto yours for dear life as his mouth slide over your skin.

“I’m – fuck,” his lips brushed yours as he spoke, chest heaving against yours. “Sorry fuck…I’m coming,” he groaned your name, hips hitting one, two times hard into yours as he came inside of you. He stilled for a moment, feeling his cock twitch with his release. You squeezed his hips with your thighs, feeling his weight fall completely on you with his clammy skin sticking to yours.

Repeating your name over and over against your mouth, eyelids completely shut as your hand soothed through his hair. You could feel his heart beating erratically in his chest, a few more sloppy thrusts as he came down from his high.

Seeming like it took all his strength, he pushed himself up on his forearms so that his upper body could rise over yours, he opened his eyes with a few quick blinks.

His eyes were slightly bloodshot, and you immediately noticed the small wet patch of skin under his eyes. You were unable to help the curve in your lips, moving your hand up from the back of his head to rest against his cheek. Wiping away the little trail of tears that graced his cheekbones, you craned your neck to plant a small peck over his lips. “You okay?”

You brushed a thumb over his cheek as he spoke.

“More than,” you could feel his smile over your mouth. “Just overwhelmed – missed your body, missed feeling you.”

“God,” his chest shook with a laugh this time, a small breathless laugh with a shake of his head. “It was fast… wanted to give you more.”

He kissed you once more, tongue moving with yours in slow languid moves. Slowly withdrawing from you, you were both still sensitive and he felt nearly cold without being inside of you. He remained close on top of you, kissing over your neck and down your chest.

His lips gently sucked over your collarbone, moving lower and lower with every breath. He still held himself up with one of his arms, the other falling over your naked frame to grab at wherever he pleased. Hand smoothing down your waist, down to massaged at the sensitive skin of your thighs before moving back up again.

Raising his head, you watched through strands of his hanging hair as his swollen lips circled around your nipple. You felt sensitive all over, every nerve in your body on extremely high alert due to the man hovering over you that was making your head spin.

“What are you –” your voice was quiet once again, a subtle whine laced with the words when Harry sucked darkened marks into your skin. “What are you doing?”

“Let me give you one more,” his voice came out hot, mouth now kissing down your stomach. He rested his cheek on your skin, peering up at your through his eyelashes. “Please? I want to give you one more.”

You moaned breathlessly; the subtle throbbing of your core still apparent ever since he’d withdrawn from you. Murmuring his name into the air, you let your shoulders relax back into the plush mattress as his hands felt up the warm skin of your sides is slow soothing motions. “Give me one more.”

“G’na have to open those legs for me again,” his hands fell to your hips, readjusting himself so that he could lie his body on the mattress. You easily did as he’d said, allowing your knees to fall open and hit the bed. They didn’t stay there for very long, Harry grabbing a light hold of your ankle to place on his shoulder before kissing up your thigh.

Quiet curse was heard in the room when he caught sight of your swollen folds, a mix of both your arousals leaking down your skin.

He quickly caught the salty mix with his mouth, the sudden feeling of his tongue making you gasp with a small jolt. His hands were back on you, holding at your hips as he muttered to keep your thighs close around his head.

His tongue darted over your skin, tasting both of your releases with tantalizingly slow licks. He moved over your hole, a light push inside the warmth before withdrawing just as fast. He held your hips tightly, fingertips digging into the skin to no doubt leave little crescent moon shaped marks of his nails. Barely brushing over your clit, you’re hips were twitching up in search for more of him as the sensitivity seemed to be heightened.

He was working you up the way you knew he would.

Instead of diving right in, he gave you light, barely there touches of teasing licks and hot breaths to work you right up. The tip of his tongue brushed over your clit, circling it over the little bit of nerves in a way that had you calling his name in a breathless pant.

You hadn’t even noticed that one of your hands had found its way to pull at his hair, tugging at the thick strands at ever little touch of his tongue.

And just as you knew him to, he didn’t give you much warning before wrapping his lips around your clit and gave it a harsh suck. Your hips bucked in his touch, the pleasure of his touch coursing up to your head and down to your toes. Your heel dug into his shoulder, not at all caring that much at how tightly you were holding him.

It wouldn’t be long until your second orgasm.

His fingers dragged around your thighs, pushing through your wet folds as he pulled back to watch your slickness coat is fingers.

Lips back on the fleshiest parts of your thighs, he was kissing and sucking until the skin had been completely covered by his touch.

His fingers finally pushed inside of you, two of them maneuvering with skill into the perfect spots that hade you gripping onto him for dear life. Lips back over the bundle of nerves, he licked a slow strip with an obscene sound, before offering your clit all of his attention.

Your orgasm was definitely not far off from the way he moaned over you.

Your hand locked with his again, as you sought it out from where it was holding your thigh down. You caught Harry’s gaze, as he peered up at your through heavy eyelids with blown pupils and red cheeks.

He gave your hand a tight squeeze from where it rested on your leg, doubling his efforts with harsh sucks that had your hips bucking over his mouth.

His fingers were keeping a steady pace, curling up as he wanted nothing more than to have you unravel for him. You cried out his name, knowing how much he loved to hear you moan for him.

“Want you – gonna come for me, right?” He muttered, pulling away for a slight moment as he watched his fingers disappear inside of you. He couldn’t decide where to hold his gaze – from his wet fingers, to your heaving chest, to your completely blissed out face.

“Yeah,” you moaned dreamily, clenching tightly around his fingers as your orgasm was seconds away. “Harry, oh …!”

The heat in your stomach was unbearable, and suddenly you were floating from the mattress as your orgasm took over your body.

Harry’s eyes snapped to yours, watching them fall over him with heart shaped pupils before you were squeezing them shut in pure pleasure. He watched every move of your body, fingers keeping their motions inside of you until your shoulders relaxed back down onto the mattress.

“Shit,” he breathed against your skin, meeting the heavy breaths that were puffing from your chest. “That was…”

He sucked in fingers into his mouth, catching every last taste of you with one last lick over your swollen core that had you whimper in your sensitivity. Another loud kiss right over your hip, he was quickly crawling back up your body until he laying right by your side.

You rolled your head on the mattress, facing him. “That was what?” You quietly asked, smile easily gracing your features.

“Hot,” he breathed with a quiet laugh, “you’re so – beautiful, gorgeous, sexy –”

You pushed yourself to rest completely on your side, hand slide around his shoulder so that you could lean forward and connect your swollen lips.

He was holding you close against his body, a loving and intimate touch that only Harry could give you.

Exhausted seemed to settle into every muscle of your body but a nice kind of tired, like after a long day in the sun. Simply holding each other in a soft embrace, you stayed like that for a while. You couldn’t believe you had just had sex with your ex, with your ex who you were now apparently seeing again.

A little smile grew on your lips.

You couldn’t believe how much you still loved him.

Harry was tracing the line of your shoulder, a mindless action as he enjoyed the feeling of you next to him. He could tell that you were thinking about something, but he didn’t push it. He saw a little roundness to your cheeks, a little smile pulling at your mouth and it warmed his still rapidly beating heart.

After a moment you reluctantly lifted yourself away from Harry to stand from the bed. Limbs slipping from his, you went from feeling every inch of his skin to none at all.

“Where are you going,” he called with a groan, although followed your motions until his feet were planted over the floor.

“Washroom,” you called behind you, settling down on shaky legs as you made the short walk. You peered over your shoulder and where Harry was still sitting on the bed. “Can I borrow some clothes again?”

Harry smiled. “What’s mine is yours.”

You only laughed with a little shake to your head, taking a moment for yourself as you got yourself cleaned up. Moments later harry was by your side, pulling a warm hoodie over your head.

He was unable to keep his hands off of you.

Whether it was as you did your nightly routine and he was pressing his side against your, or when he hugged you from behind to kiss over the side of your face, or when his hand gripped yours to pull you back to bed.

The best was always lying close next to him, feeling his heartbeat steady with yours as sleep easily took over your tired bodies. His lips smoothed over the top of your head, telling you a quiet “goodnight, m’love.”

It was the best sleep the both of you had in months.

more to come .. thank you for reading and please let me know what you think <3

[scapegrace74-blog]

New Ways of Turning Into Stone

A/N  Another long drive, another Outlander fanfic idea that dropped into my brain out of nowhere, shoving aside the historical AU I have been wrestling with for months.  Here’s the pitch: Claire Beauchamp is a psychiatrist specializing in grief counselling.  Jamie Fraser is referred to her by his sister, who is worried for his well-being after a series of family tragedies.  You can probably guess the rest, but I’m going to write it anyway.   The title is taken from a song by the amazing Phantogram that was playing as the story idea came to me.

After losing my WIP virginity posting Ginger Snap, I’m going out on that limb again and posting this first chapter with only a rough outline mapped out in my head.  You people are a terrible influence!  Also, there will be some trigger warnings on future chapters, so please watch out for those.   And now, on with our show.

Claire Beauchamp glanced down at the leather-bound calendar open on her desk.  The ivory page for Thursday was packed to the margins, each hourly block filled with the name of a patient followed by a series of cuneiform symbols she used to remind herself of the last session, course of treatment, overall progress, all while maintaining strict confidentiality.  Not even Geillis Duncan, her office administrator and very good friend, knew how to decode the script.

Geillis liked to laugh at the old-fashioned day planner, reminding Claire that their practice utilized software that could perform the same function electronically, but she enjoyed the act of physically logging each session.  The solid heft of her Mont Blanc pen in her hand, a medical school graduation gift from her Uncle Lamb.  The scratch and grab of the nub as it bled black ink over virgin paper.  It was a tactile ceremony in a detached world.  Geillis would nod and then tell her she needed to get laid.

Speak of the devil, a sharp rap on her office door was followed by the appearance of her strawberry blonde head. blue eyes alight with mischief.

“Yer two o’clock is here.  Did ye need more time tae finish bolting down tha’ chaff ye call a salad, or can I show him in?”

“It’s kale,” she defended.  “It’s full of anti-oxidants.”

A disdainful scoff was the only response.

“Yes, Geil, please show Mister...” she glanced down at her planner, “...Fraser in, thank you.”

The tiny rectangle contained only a name, which meant this was their first appointment.  Geillis vetted all prospective patients, but Claire preferred to go into the first meeting blind, with no assumptions or pre-conceptions.  

She wondered what misfortune had caused Mr. Fraser to seek out her psychiatric services.  The death of a child, perhaps, or the end of an extra-marital affair.  People grieved for very different reasons and worked through or around that grief with a surprising variety of coping mechanisms.   Most called upon her practice in much the same way they would a breakdown truck when their car’s engine failed.  They simply wanted to get back on the road to happiness.

Despite the degrees and accreditations that decorated her office wall, Claire wasn’t certain such a thing was possible.  In her experience, grief was a phantom limb that never really went away.  The best one could hope for was to learn healthier ways of living with it.  

The sound of Geillis clearing her throat snapped her back to the present.

“Was there something else, Geil?”

“Och, no’ really.  Just, when yer considerin’ how tae thank me later on, remember tha’ my favourite stone is an emerald, that I prefer gold tae silver, but platinum is ne’er amiss.”

“What are you on about, Duncan?”  But her friend had already disappeared back into the reception area, leaving behind only the glow of her Cheshire smile.  Claire was shaking her head, bemused, when another knock rang out, this one considerably heavier than the first.

“Come in,” she called as she looked up.  And up.  And up some more.

The man who now practically filled her office door had to be at least six foot four, with powerful shoulders and a broad torso encased in a blue henley.  His nearly endless legs were likewise muscular, as testified by the stretch of his jeans across each thigh.  As if his physique wasn’t remarkable enough, he had a head of outrageously wavy red hair, worn long enough to graze the tops of his ears and the nape of his neck, but swept back from a high brow by a judicious use of product.  His face was angular in a pleasingly unique way, with a day or two’s growth of beard counter-balancing an almost youthful, earnest appearance.  But his most striking feature by far were his aquamarine eyes that shimmered like a tropical sea.  Eyes that were currently observing her with perplexity.

“Dr. Beauchamp?” a deep Scottish brogue inquired.  He pronounced it as though she were French.

“Yes,” she startled.  “That’s me.  And it’s pronounced Beecham.  Please, come in Mister Fraser.”  She shuffled a few items around her desk needlessly as she tried to compose herself.  Damn Geillis for not giving her a bit more warning that her newest client was some sort of fitness model.

“Thank ye,” he replied.  “An’ it’s pronounced Jamie, if ye please.”   She added wit to the growing list of the man’s attributes.

If anything, he grew even more impressive as he approached.  She could see he was nervous, although hiding it well.  His striking eyes darted about the room, trying to get a sense of his environment.  She indicated the well-upholstered armchair that sat to one side of her desk.

“Have a seat,” she invited.

With a surprising amount of grace for one so tall, he eased into the chair but didn’t lean back.  The fingers of his left hand tapped restlessly against his thigh.  She watched him quietly, waiting for him to speak.  This was a trick she had learned when she first started practicing psychiatry, but in this case it also allowed her to continue her appraisal.  He was, she concluded, the most attractive man she’d ever seen in the flesh.

“No couch,” he finally observed.

“No.  That’s a bit of a Hollywood trope, I’m afraid.  Lying prone in front of a stranger is hardly conducive to feeling at ease.”

He nodded his acceptance of her logic, but was otherwise silent.

“So,” she spoke at last, unable to wait him out, “what caused you to seek out counselling, Jamie?”  His name suited him, she thought as she spoke it for the first time.  Both boyish and imposing at once.

“I didna.  Twas my sister, Jenny, who insisted I see a doctor.”  His mobile mouth twisted into a grimace.  She could imagine the sibling discord that such a demand would have caused.  Whoever this Jenny was, she was made of strong stuff.  Unfortunately for her, a hostile patient would receive no benefit from merely visiting her office.  Counselling was a participatory process, and she could tell from the stubborn set of Jamie’s shoulders that he had no intention of participating.

“I see,” she said carefully.  “Well, it’s your time and your dime, Mr. Fraser.  This session lasts for forty-five minutes, and you’ve not been here for five.  There’s a carafe of hot water on the table over there, if you care for some tea.  Or you’re welcome to just enjoy that comfortable chair for another forty minutes.  I’ll be working on some administrative necessities.”

She turned her chair away from him, but from the corner of her eye she could see his gobsmacked expression.  He had clearly expected her to cajole and manipulate him into co-operating, but that simply wasn’t her style.

“I meant no offence, doctor.  I’m certain ye’re verra good at what ye do.  Tis only... well, Jenny is my older sister, ye ken.  She practically raised me.  And so ofttimes she treats me like a muckle-sized bairn, and no’ a man who’s capable of lookin’ after himself.”

As he spoke, Jamie leaned forward until his elbows rested on his knees, expressive hands gesturing in front of his face.  Hostile to the notion of counselling he might be, but he clearly wanted her to understand it wasn’t a slight.  As a physician, she had been trained to never take a patient’s reactions personally, but it didn’t mean she didn’t appreciate the effort.

“No offence taken, Jamie.  If you don’t need my assistance, I’m happy for you.  That’s one less person hurting in the world.”

“I didna say I wasna hurting.  But I can handle it my own way.  I am handling it, that is,” he hurried to add.

Unable to sit still any longer, he rose and walked over to the small table where she kept an assortment of herbal teas and a tray of Geillis’ homemade biscuits.  Bending over, Jamie set about making himself some; chamomile by the smell of it.  The sound of spoon ringing off porcelain as he stirred in some honey made her smile, reminding her of Lamb and his obsession with the lost art of afternoon tea.

“Can I make ye a cup?”

The question was so unexpected, it took her a moment to process it.  The tea was there as a distraction for her patients, to give them something to do with their bodies as they worked through difficult emotions.  None of them had ever thought to offer her a reprieve as well.

“No, thank you.  I just finished lunch.”

He dipped a shortbread into the steaming tea, then ate it in a single bite.  Instead of sitting back down, he began to browse the framed certificates and photographs along the far wall as he sipped his tea.  With his back turned, her eyes dipped to admire his ass, which filled out his jeans perfectly.  When she caught herself, she gave her head a shake, appalled at her lack of professional detachment.  Maybe Geillis was right.  Maybe she really did need to get laid.

“How long have ye been a doctor?” Jamie asked without turning around.

“Ten years,” she replied.  “But I’ve only been a psychiatrist for the last two.”

It was a dangerous topic, and she blamed his ass for letting the words slip out.  Fortunately, his inquisitiveness took him in an entirely different direction.

“Were ye some kind of prodigy, then? Ye hardly seem old enough tae have yer own practice, let alone fer a decade.  If ye dinna mind me sayin’ so,” he added quickly, as though realizing what he’d just said.

“Not at all.  And you hardly seem young enough to be a, what was it? A muckle-sized bairn?”

As he turned to look her way, she understood the expression ‘shot-gun smile’ for the first time.  It spread across his face like a sunbeam, transforming what was already remarkable into a work of art.  If she hadn’t been sitting, she likely would have stumbled backward from the force of the blow.  Scrambling for something familiar to keep her from making a very grave fool of herself in front of this man, she clasped her clinical training with both hands.

“Are you and your sister close?” 

“Aye, when we’re no’ tryin’ not tae kill the other.  Our Mam died when I was only four, and with Da workin’ dawn til dark on the farm, Jenny was parent, teacher an’ playmate all rolled inta one.”

“You’re not from Edinburgh, then?”  Although what that had to do with his counselling, she hadn’t a clue. 

“Nah, I hail from a wee village in the Highlands ye’ve likely ne’er heard of called Broch Mordha.”  She shook her head to indicate she was indeed unfamiliar with it.  Jamie launched into a detailed description of the place, his hands sculpting the landscape out of thin air.  He obviously cared very deeply for his home, and she felt a twinge of jealousy, having never known that feeling of deep belonging  herself.

“And what brought you to Old Smoky?” she asked as he wound down, her interest piqued.  It was like slamming a lead door on his previously sunny disposition.

“Family obligations.” Said in such a way as to make it clear that no further words would be forthcoming on the topic.  She regretted her nosiness immediately, despite what it revealed about his emotional state.  Jamie was most certainly grieving something, but handling it he was not.

Before she could find a way back to the easy flow of conversation, a chime from her laptop indicated that the session was up.  She couldn’t bear to dismiss him without trying to set things right.

“Listen, Jamie, I understand that you only came here today to humour your sister, but I want you to consider something.  Whether we’re grieving or angry or jealous, or any destabilizing feeling, we’re often the worst surveyors of our own landscape.  Just like you can’t know your place on the sea without referencing the stars, it takes something external to ourselves to measure how far adrift we have become.  Your sister obviously loves you.  Ask yourself, what has she seen in you that prompted her to force you to seek help?”

They parted with cordial but muted goodbyes.  The door closed behind him, leaving Claire to stare at the blank rectangle in her planner that bore his name.  No coded symbols flowed from her pen.  When the door re-opened, it was Geillis, closing it firmly behind her.

“Weel, did I no’ tell ye?  Wee fox, tha’ one.  And he told me he liked my shortbread!”   Geillis said this as though it was some kind of sexual euphemism, which for all Claire knew, it was.

“Yes,” she replied distractedly.  “He’s very nice.”

“Nice!  Nice?  Tha’ man is tae nice what Wagyu is tae beef jerky.  Have ye completely lost yer senses, woman?”  

“Yes, well, he’s a patient, Geillis, as you well know.  And not one I’m likely to see again,” she added, acknowledging out loud what she already knew.

“Oh, no?” Geillis sing-songed.  “Thas’ strange, as he just made an appointment fer the same time next week.”

Claire’s eyes flew to where her friend looked on, smug as could be.

“Yer three o’clock called tae say she was runnin’ five minutes late.  I’ll leave ye tae think about yer... patient.”

Claire picked up her pen, trying to pull together something resembling a professional summary of her first appointment with Jamie.  Her mind replayed their interaction, but all she could remember was the way his eyes crinkled when he was listening attentively, the tidy half-moons of his fingernails, the seam of his jeans as it contoured his thigh, and the cymbal-crash in her chest that accompanied his smile.

Patient, she reminded herself.  Jamie Fraser is your patient. 

[wiener-soldiers]

heal my soul with your lips - tommy shelby

request: “idea: tommy with a singer or just someone that's musically talented” from anon

summary: a melodic voice helped him through the depths of hell once. the same melodic voice finds him once more or tommy shelby recognizes the sweet voice of nurse that sung to the soldiers in france in a jazz club in london.

pairing: tommy shelby x fem!reader (race non-specific)

words: 3.9k

warnings: some themes of ptsd (it’s subtle), jealous tommy!

a/n: based off this head cannon. also, the song i used was “through the valley” by shawn james and IK it’s not period accurate; the song just fits the show so well i couldn’t not use it. also also, ik made the name of the club an awful combination of french and english. i speak french so ik it’s awful, but it’s intentional.

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Tommy Shelby heard you before he met you.

He was in a field hospital in God-knows where. Somewhere in France, obviously, but he didn’t remember where exactly. They were ordered to keep pushing forward, but with his days underground and his endless tunnelling, it was impossible to know how much ground they had covered.

As it turns out, he was closer to the enemy lines than he realized and a brief but bloody squabble in a tunnel under the gunfire left him with a stab wound in his leg.

He practically dragged himself to a field hospital before plopping himself on the nearest empty cot. His condition wasn’t terrible, a nurse had told him, as the knife had missed a major blood vessel. But the prospect of living another day didn’t excite Tommy, it was the promise that he would probably be one of the later patients to be treated and he could rest in an actual cot instead of the cold, wet ground, even for a few hours.

He laid in the bed, trying not to aggravate his wound further, and slowly shut his eyes. Strangely, he felt tranquil. Yes, he could hear the screams of soldiers, the cries of anguish, the gunfire and the shells dropping, but he felt at peace. Laying undisturbed at the Somme was a win for him.

Suddenly, he hears a voice cut through the violent sounds that filled the ear. It  was hauntingly beautiful, so much so that Tommy wondered if that the nurse who had spoken to him at first had been wrong and he was on the brink of death.

But the voice persisted. Soft. Unrelenting. Beautiful. He assumed that the woman singing was further within the hospital, closer to the more severe patients. The cries and screams of the men seemed to stop and even the battlefield seemed to quiet. It’s like everyone took breath to hear her voice, Allies and Central powers alike.

The juxtaposition between beauty and darkness was almost too much for Tommy as he felt his chest start to squeeze. He suddenly felt nostalgic for home, for his family, for his brothers. Instead, he was fighting in a war that wasn’t his.

“Sergeant Major Shelby,” a voice calls. It’s a new nurse this time and she looks as exhausted as he is. He notices the tray she’s carrying and how it’s full of medical equipment. He sighs; it was time to get his stitches and his moment of tranquility was now over.

---

Years later, he and his brothers are walking through the streets of London like the own the city. It was comical, really. Tommy had just started a war with Darby Sabini, one of the most influential men in London, and he had the confidence of a man who had just killed a hundred men single-handedly.

The Shelby brothers hopped from club to club, drinking in the lavish London lifestyle which paled in comparison to the more humble pubs back in Birmingham. Though his brothers couldn’t help but try their hands at some snow (and even something stronger), Tommy kept his distant, trying to stay aware.

Eventually, their energy began to die down and the brother stumbled into their final club for the evening. It was quieter than the others, Tommy notices, but perhaps it’s because the night was getting quite late.

The club was painted a deep red with gold decor to compliment, but what stuck out to him was the rest of the decorations: military medals, entire walls lined with them. Batered Union Jacks hung from door archways, ones that looked like they had been brought back from France. Finally, a wall full of photographs of men in their uniforms. Veterans, Tommy realized. The one’s that didn’t make it home, he noticed, as their birth and death years were on display. He then notices the vases filled with poppies on nearly every table and every spare ledge.

And then a voice.

“I walk through the valley of the shadow of death

and I fear no evil because I’m blind to it all.”

It feels as if the air from Tommy’s lungs had been sucked out. It was the same voice from the Somme. It was louder now and he could hear it more clearly...it was even more beautiful than he remembered.

“And my mind and my gun, they comfort me,

because I know I’ll kill my enemies when they come.”

His chest starts to squeeze again, just like it did when he was on that cot in the cramped field hospital. He froze, seemingly transported back to the warfront. His brothers paid him no mind however, as they stumbled to the bar to order a drink.

“Surely goodness and mercy will follow me 

all the days of my life,

and I’ll dwell on this Earth forevermore.”

“You served?” a voice calls to him. It’s a man who’s slumped in a chair, staring at the medals on the wall in melancholy.

“Yes,” Tommy answers curtly.

“You have that look about you,” the drunken man says. “All soldiers get that look when she sings that song.”

“Said, I walk beside the still waters

and they restore my soul.”

“You see a lot of soldiers here, then?” Tommy asks the man.

He laughs, shaking his head sadly. He lifts he glass up to Tommy and says candidly, “Brother, I am one. This is where the soldiers with the Flanders Blues come. Too violent to fit back into normal life, too tired to fight another war aside from the one in our own heads.”

“But I can’t walk on the path of the right

because I’m a wrong.”

Tommy finally looks at the direction of the singing and locks eyes with you. You’re standing on a small stage at the end of the club, swaying to the haunting jazz tune of the piano. Behind you was a large Union Jack, soot stained in the fabric and filled with bullet holes. You were a vision, in Tommy’s eyes. You sung beautifully into the microphone, your satin red dress accentuating the dips and curves in your body. The men in the pub, most likely soldiers according to the drunk man Tommy spoke to, stared at you in wonder and sadness. You seemed to be an enigmatic cure for their sorrows. You sung of tragedy and sadness, but you seemed to be the light guiding them through the darkness. Tommy fell into your trance as quickly as the other men.

“Said, I walk beside the still waters

and they restore my soul.

But I know when I die,

my soul is damned.”

You held your final note as the pianist hit the final key and the crowd clapped in muted and bittersweet cheer. You still smiled, understanding that a large reaction wasn’t appropriate especially given the men in the room knew that death was nothing glorious. A few men walked up to you, sincerely thanking you through their unshed tears before leaving the club to return to their families. You conversed with the pianist as you sipped a glass of water when you noticed that his expression began to falter.

“Mr. Shelby,” the pianist stutered out, looking over your shoulder at someone behind you.

You turned to look behind you and noticed the man who had caught your stare approaching. His face was hardened and his aura was dark and dangerous, but you saw through it immediately. He was no different from the veterans who flocked to the pub every night.

“Evening,” Mr. Shelby replied. “You know who I am?” he asks, voice neutral but laced in curiosity. He had just come to London, even he was slightly surprised about his reach.

The pianist nods, “My cousin works in one of your factories, sir.”

Mr. Shelby curtly nods before saying, “You wouldn’t mind if I spoke to the lady then, would you?”

“Of course, good evening to you both,” he says respectfully before turning to leave.

“Mr. Shelby then, is it?” you say without the intimidation in your voice. You’ve been through and seen a lot in France and you know how the men acted when no one was watching when they returned home. It was going to take a lot for you to feel intimidated. “What can I help you with?”

“You were a nurse, weren’t you? You were at the Somme,” he says, though it didn’t seem like a question.

Your eyes widen, taken aback slightly by his forwardness and his accurate description of your time as a nurse on the front. “I was. Have we met?”

Tommy shakes his head no. “I was getting stitches in a field hospital when I heard your voice,” he explains.

You laugh lightly, though it feels strained. Tommy understands why. “The men find it easier to take the pain if I sing to them.”

“Is that why you sing here? In front of all these broken soldiers?” he asks. You can’t tell if he’s being condescending or curious. It was hard to read men like him, despite the practice you had every day.

You decide to answer honestly, hoping that it would allow you to see the man he was on the inside. “I was too hot-headed to stay a nurse after the war, but I still wanted to help because I knew most of the men were as broken, if not more, once the returned home than they were in France. So, here I am. The singing seemed to help them in France, why not let it help them here as well?” you say softly, still bravely staring at his face. You watch his facade crack, just a little.

“You think I’m like the rest of them, then? A soldier too tired to fight another war except for the one in his own head?” he asks, testing her.

You don’t falter and reach forward to flick his collar where blood had spattered from his fight in Sabini’s club. “I think you died back there. In France, I mean. So, you keep finding and fighting new wars to distract yourself from the one goin’ on in your head.”

You worry that your candor is too much for him, but Tommy stares at you in what you could only call as affectionately.

“Was this place always a pub for soldiers, then?” Tommy asks, hearing himself become more comfortable.

You laugh, eyes crinkling slightly, and Tommy finds the sound as addicting as your voice. “You’re definitely new around here,” you tease. “Before the war, this club was full of classist, elistist toffs who rejoiced the King. None of them faught. When the war was over, the soldiers basically drove them out with their horrific stories of France and their despise for the Crown. Turned it into the place it is today. The owner’s son served and he was more than happy for the change.”

“How’d you end up here?”

“So many questions, Mr. Shelby,” you continue to tease, hoping to get a reaction out of him.

“I find you very intriguing,” he remplies simply, pulling out a cigarette.

“You don’t even know my name,” you point out.

The corner of his lip quirks upwards and you find yourself grinning slightly at your success. “It’s Y/N. Reckon I should spare you from the pain of suspense,” you say, breaking out into a smile as you do so.

“Tommy,” he says, grabbing your hand and pressing his lips to it.

“Oi, Tom!” a thick Brummie accent shouts through the club. “Arthur’s piss-faced and can barely fuckin’ walk. We should go.”

Tommy sighs against your knuckles and you giggle slightly. “Your brothers?” you ask, making note of a younger man attempting to haul an older one with a moustache out of a bar stool.

“Hmm,” he nods, before taking a step back. “Can I see you again?”

“You know where I work,” you tease and he rolls his eyes in an amused manner.

“I was thinking dinner,” he says boldly and you grin.

“Come back tomorrow and ask me again,” you smirk before brushing past him and walking into the back room.

---

Tommy did come back the next night and asked again. You said yes, slightly shocked that he fufilled your request. He didn’t seem like the type of man particularly fond of taking orders, but rather the type of man who often gave them. If being around veterans every day taught you anything, it was how to read those who didn’t want to be read.

Your dinner date turned into two, then three, then weekly visits from Tommy, then weekends spent alone in your apartment, then you visiting Birmingham, then you meeting his family. Neither of you had talked about where exactly you stood in a relationship because it was seemingly obvious.

Tommy was infatuated with you and you easily returned the sentiment.

He had learned that you aren’t really from anywhere because you moved around countless times with your parents as they tried to find work. So, it wasn’t too hard to convince you to move to Birmingham to live with him after nearly a year of courting.

You had been slightly pained at the prospect of leaving your old club behind, especially since the owner was getting old and his son was involved in his own medical career to take over the business, so Tommy made a quick move to buy the club from him and began running it as one of his legitimate businesses in London.

It’s a gift, he had told you but that didn’t stop you from nearly burst into tears. That club meant a lot to you, as it was a safe haven for both you and the soldiers it serviced. Tommy had put you in charge, so you hired a few people—all veterans, most of them regulars who were eager to help keep the business alive—to manage the place while you were in Birmingham. Every few weeks, you’d make the trip to London for a few performances. Though you hired new girls to sing, the club was still filled like no other night when you were in town. You called it The Club Infirmerie, an ode to the field hospital in the Somme where Tommy had first heard you sing. More and more veterans flocked there to heal amongst the music and amonst their fellow soldiers, just as you hoped.

When you were in Birmingham, you involved yourself in business where you could. You had no problem with the kind of work Tommy was involved in, to his delight, but there was still a lot you didn’t fully understand. Polly did her best to groom you in the more complex side of business, but you still gravitated to a more manegerial role. So, Tommy put you in charge of most logistics of the factories and clubs he owned. Your favourite establishment, however, was The Garrison.

“Look’s a little like the Inifirmerie, Tommy,” you teased him as he showed you around The Garrison for the first time, arm slung around your shoulders as you gazed at the decor of the pub.

“I may have gotten some design inspiration from you, darlin’,” he hummed, pressing kiss to your temple.

Like The Club Infermerie, you had set up a small stage, piano, and microphone to have performers in The Garrison. When you were doing this, Tommy opened up and explained why there had been no singing in his pub before; the pub was void of singing becauase of Grace and her betrayal. You kissed him softly, a reminder that you were different and that were staying. Tommy’s heart swelled as you found another way to slowly heal his soul with your lips.

On that particular Friday, The Garrison was more full than usual, partly because there had been word that you were to perform a set that evening. The bar was bustling as men and women of all backgrounds ordered drink after drink. You, Harry, and Arthur had a hard time keeping up, so you inlisted the help of Finn and Isaiah who had been sharing a pint with some younger Peaky’s at the end of the bar.

“Oi! Finn, ‘Saiah, c’mere!” you shout, filling another pint.

“What is it, Y/N?” Finn asks as he approached you, Isaiah in tow.

“Hop ‘round the back and take over for a bit, will ya?” you ask quickly, wiping your hands on the skirt of your work dress. “I need to prepare for my set.”

"Course,” Isaiah says kindly and agreed to help right away, though you aren’t blind to the small crush the younger boy harbored towards you, which is probably why he had been eager to help.

Finn, however, groans. The effect of being seen as a sibling to him, you suppose. “’S what hiring more people’s for, Y/N,” he complains, dragging his feet as you approach him. “Why’d I gotta do it?”

You squint your eyes playfully at Finn before saying, “I’ll let you have a glass of whiskey.”

“And you won’t let Tommy take it away?” he says skeptically.

“I won’t let Tommy take it away,” you confirm.

Finn perks back up again and pecks your cheek before shouting, “This is why I like you better than Tommy!” You laugh to yourself as you slip into the snug to change out of your work dress into a fancy, silk one. It’s one Tommy had purchased on a business trip to London because he said it reminded him of what you were wearing when you first met. The dress was long, almost a gown, but it still abandonned the old, Edwardian silhouette in favour of a more modern one. In fact, the dress was more scandoulous than most, with the neckline and back dipping deep into your chest and back and a slit in the skirt as climbing as high as your thigh. The red of the dress was deep and luxiourious, matching the walls of The Garrison.

The moment you stepped out of the snug, it’s like the crowd had parted for you and allowed you to walk through the pub interrupted until you reached the stage. It’s not the awe of your presence that drawed you to keep singing, but the calmness and tranquility that followed. Throughout your set, the peaceful daze that fell over the pub persisted. Tommy had entered The Garrison halfway through the set, having just finished business, and he fell back into your spell just as easily as everyone else. He loved that about you—how easily you could calm a rowdy crowd. It meant you could just as easily calm his thundering and monstrous soul. He leaned on the threshold of the snug, watching you sing with a content smile on his face.

When the set was over, the crowd errupted into applause. Women flocked forward and gushed to you about your performance and men stared longingly from afar. You were Tommy’s girl and they knew you weren’t to be trifled with. 

Unfortunately, someone had not gotten the message. Rather, he got the message but simply didn’t care.

Tommy noticed Finn and Isaiah behind the bar and apporached them curiously. Upon seeing his brother, Finn grinned at him.

“Whiskey, Tom?” Finn asks cheekily. He knows the answer will be yes anyway, so he starts preparing his drink.

“What’re you doin’ behind the bar?” Tommy asks, accepting the whiskey from Finn.

“Y/N asked us to help because she needed to prepare for the set,” Isaiah explains, filling up another pint.

Tommy smirks at him. “I know why you’re helping behind the bar, Isaiah,” he jokes, referring to the crush the young Blinder has on his girl, “I was asking why Finn was.”

“Can’t I just be a helping hand?”

“She offered you whiskey, didn’t she?”

Finn groans. “C’mon, Tom! Just this once? She said she wouldn’t let you take it away! It’s been ages since you let me have a glass.”

“What about that time Y/N patched you up after getting into a pub fight, eh?” Tommy notes, teasing his brother further. “Nearly had half a bottle there ‘cos you wouldn’t stop fuckin’ wailin’.”

“I was in pain,” Finn defends himself, but with no malice in his voice. He liked that he could joke around with his brother again; that was all your doing. “’S not my fault the bloke stabbed me with a rusty fuckin’ knife.”

“Sorta is, Finny boy.”

“Uh, Tommy?” Isaiah interrupts with a confused look on his face as he stares in the distance. “Is he supposed to be doing that?” he continues, nodding in your direction.

Tommy turns his head in your direction and his jaw clenches.

“I’m tellin’ ya, love, your voice? Fan-fucking-tastic. Couldn’t have captured the sound of heaven betta’ meself,” the man talking to you chuckled, placing a large hand on your waist.

You tried your best not to get flustered, “I’m really glad you enjoyed it Mr. Solo—”

“Alfie.”

Both you and Alfie turned to face Tommy who was staring at the later with more distate than you’ve ever seen.

“Ah, Tommy! Good to see you, m’friend,” Alfie cheers loudly, sticking his hand out for Tommy to shake. Tommy’s doesn’t budge.

“I see you’re getting reaquainted with Y/N,” Tommy notes bitterly. You catch Tommy’s stare and you almost laugh at how jealous he’s getting.

“What can I say, Tom? She’s a sight to see. And hear for that matter,” Alfie jokingly puts his hand on his chin inquisitivley. “I wonder what she sounds like in b—”

“Right, that’s enough,” Tommy hisses, grabbing your hand and dragging you away. He can hear Alfie’s booming laughter in the distance as he pulls you into the snug. Luckily, it’s empty.

“Tom—”

You’re interrupted by a harsh kiss to the mouth, with Tommy’s hands wrapping themselves around your waist as he backs you into the table, forcing you to sit on it.

“Well, hello love,” you giggle against his lips. “What’re you doin’, handsome?”

“Didn’t like the way he was looking at you. Or touchin’ you,” he grumbles harshly, moving his lips to your neck.

“You’re not one to act like that in public. In front of him for that matter,” you note, letting your hands squeeze Tommy’s hair as he kisses and especially sensitive spot.

“Can’t help it,” you says against your neck and you snort.

“Yeah you can, darlin’,” you say, pulling away to look at him. “Everything alright?”

Tommy stares at you, mentally debating with himself, before saying, “That bastard was supposed to meet me today before I came here but he bailed. Came here pissed to the fucking moon ‘til I heard you sing. Turns out, he was here watching you up close while I was in my office waiting for his fuckin’ pompous ass.”

“Probably just wanted to rile you up,” you say ernestly. “Don’t let him.”

Tommy kisses you again before muttering against your lips, “If where this is going is me getting riled up, I wouldn’t be opopsed.”

You almost let out a moan, but choke it back and say, “Tom, someone’ll hear!”

Tommy pulls away, a mischevious smirk and a dark look in his eye forming. “He wants to know what you sound like, eh? Let him.”

[nutty1005]

Exclusive Visit of 72 Hours! Full Record of “A Dream Like A Dream” Behind the Scenes

Original Article: https://mp.weixin.qq.com/s/yI4arm9P9nJwE3RMSUW-5Q Original Author: 杨晋亚 Translator’s note: The original author is part of Yuli Studio, this article is published in Yuli Studio’s Weixin Official Account on 23 Apr 2021 as a part of “Behind the Screens” Volume 640.

On 22 Apr, “A Dream Like A Dream” Wuhan Charity show was still in the midst, countless related topics were already on Weibo Hot Search.

This is probably the hottest play on the internet till date.

A big intellectual property that lasted for 21 years, and now with the addition of the hottest celebrity, debuted for the first time as a Charity Show in honor of the heroes of the pandemic last year, “A Dream Like A Dream” contained stories on stage and backstage.

Before the official start of the play, Yuli Studio walked into the backstage of “A Dream Like A Dream”, and entered the dream in advance.

“A Dream Like A Dream”

Celebrity Cast

On 19 Apr noon, 15 minutes before the first full dress rehearsal for “A Dream Like A Dream”, there were not much audiences, they were all in the lotus pond seats.

Overall producer Wang Keran was suddenly notified that there was someone recording secretly, he immediately called the executive producer Da Shan to check, who had already expressed multiple times that audiences were not the take pictures. Wang Keran face turned gloomy, loudly accused Da Shan of incompetency, stood up, “Trusted friends who are currently seated, I hope that everyone would protect the actors, stop filming.”

Afterwards Wang Keran told us, his anger then was actually “for show”, that situation needed him to make a stand, scold Da Shan so as to alert everyone else, “I needed to kill two birds with one stone, control the scene, protect the actors.”

Xu Qing, Xiao Zhan, Zhang Liang, Huang Lu… the addition of many celebrity actors, caused the interest in “A Dream Like A Dream” to increase.

Protecting his actors, was something that Wang Keran always did ever since he built this group.

Yanghua Theatre and Baoli Theatrical Center collaborated and did some massive and intricate work, in order to ensure that protection project was as per usual, “The theaters put in a lot, the meager profits that this project is giving them, can’t completely cover their massive investment.”

Wang Keran also helped to block countless signature and photograph requests for Xiao Zhan, his good friend had came from afar to Wuhan just for a photograph with Xiao Zhan, but Wang Keran did not agree, “I promised a clean creative environment for my actors.”

The “A Dream Like A Dream” group tried their best to give all the actors an equal, harmonious creative environment, and in here, there is no celebrity actor Xiao Zhan, only Patient No. 5 B.

In the backstage of the Wuhan Qintai Theatre, the plaque on the door of Xiao Zhan’s resting room was not labelled “Xiao Zhan”, but “No. 5”.

Director Chen Limei and Zhang Rui said that the group did not treat Xiao Zhan specially as a celebrity; Actress Huang Lu, who portrayed the role Jiang Hong, had the most scenes with Xiao Zhan, she said that everyone was just actors.

Privately, Xiao Zhan would treat Huang Lu fruits, as well as recommend good motives to her, Huang Lu said, working with Xiao Zhan was not much different from working with other partners, the only difference was that there were suddenly a lot of Xiao Zhan fans leaving messages on her Weibo, most of them were messages of encouragement and support.

“A Dream Like A Dream” , Xiao Zhan, Huang Lu

During the very initial rehearsals, the director closed Huang Lu and Xiao Zhan into a small practice room, in order to cultivate tacit understanding.

“When we were rehearsing the French portion of the play, I knew he was from Chongqing, I would suddenly use French translated to Wuhan dialect to talk to him, what d’ya wanna eat what d’ya wanna eat, and then he would suddenly reply me in Chongqing dialect.”

Huang Lu remembered, when Xiao Zhan entered the group, he had already memorized all of his lines, the tacit understanding between them were built up within 3 or 4 days, and on the details of the performance, they would also inspire each other.

For example, the biggest reaction from the audience in the Wuhan show was the scene in the Parisian apartment, actually contained Xiao Zhan’s designs, when they spoke the lines “Monday Wednesday Friday Tuesday Thursday Saturday and Sunday”, Xiao Zhan suggested that the two of them would lean their heads on each other, so as to give a better effect.

When the two of them were conversing in comedic Japanese scene, there were traces of the old version of the play, but there were new creativity as well, “Pikachu” was from the old version, whereas “sleeping” was an idea that Xiao Zhan came up with.

“A Dream Like A Dream”, Xiao Zhan, Huang Lu

The duration for “A Dream Like A Dream” was long, the lines voluminous, there was once during rehearsal, one of the actors had a sudden breakage and his lines became more and more scattered, voice lower and lower, that day Director Chen Limei gave him a stern talking to, but in the director’s memory, this problem never occurred to Xiao Zhan.

“Xiao Zhan was very serious, we could all feel that, every night after he went back, he definitely thought through his scenes once more, so that he would not make this kind of mistake.”

Xiao Zhan expressed that his familiarity with the lines had gone to the state that he could say it “whenever”, he was more focused on the “current feeling and the chemistry with his partners.”

Xiao Zhan was very strict with his own expectations, on the 19th after the first full dress rehearsal, there were many audiences who gave his performance good reviews, but he said, “I’m not quite satisfied with today, it wasn’t as good as yesterday.” Although the audiences did not spot any problems with the lines from the scene ”Monday Wednesday Friday Tuesday Thursday Saturday and Sunday”, but after the performance ended, Xiao Zhan himself felt that there were some slight flaws.

“A Dream Like A Dream”, Xiao Zhan

The lotus pond seats in “A Dream Like A Dream” to Xiao Zhan was a challenge, it made it easy for him to lose concentration, and once you had lost it, it would be easy for the scene to scatter, he described, “the feeling in concerts is that you need to interact simultaneously, plays to me meant that I need to make myself lonely”, so he needed to make sure he could ignore the audiences.

Wang Keran invited theater critics to view the play for the 19th’s full dress rehearsal, after the upper half ended, they were exclaiming in praise of Xiao Zhan’s acting, Wang Keran also proudly recommended this newly found actor to people around him: “He had a different layer of creativity process, the first day we’ve finished the script, he surprised me onstage the second day, it was green but came with a lot of accurate instincts. He constructed the character to be intricate and abundant, but yet layered, not just emotional scenes, everyone could burst into emotions, but he was intricate, lively and entertaining, he conveyed the soul of the character, his sense of pace was this good.”

“A Dream Like A Dream” Performance Stage

The story of “A Dream Like A Dream” and Xiao Zhan had to begin with the Cao Yu 110 Anniversary Special Event last year.

In 2019, Wang Keran heard of Xiao Zhan’s name, but he quickly forgot about it. “Then I was in Wuxi, there was a large excited crowd of people, said that the hottest actor, Xiao Zhan, was in there.”

Until 2020, a psychiatrist friend told Wang Keran, to take note of this actor Xiao Zhan.

“Before then I was an older person, I’ve always picked actors above 35, but after the psychiatrist finished talking, I started subconsciously noticing this person, and then I found out that this person was really interesting.

How interesting? There were a lot of people attacking him, I thought I’d understand what these attacks were, I found out that these people were a contradiction of the most realistic things and most hypocritical things, this era’s idols were different from 5 years ago, they are now placed on a pedestal as a symbol, as something to be fought over or stepped upon. Via Xiao Zhan I noticed the new pulse in the development of society, understood this movement, art should be something that is most compatible with the times, my personal view on plays is just like this, plays should be the current drama action of this moment, and the emotional relationship of the people here and now.”

“A Dream Like A Dream”, Xiao Zhan

The commemoration event for Cao Yu, Wang Keran needed to find a young guest who could have a conversation with Wan Fang, a colleague suggested Xiao Zhan, Wang Keran suddenly realized, this was perfect, “The complexity on Xiao Zhan would fully represent the complexity of plays.”

The first time he met Xiao Zhan, Wang Keran captured the mysterious sense of fate behind his back, but yet he also gave a sense of youthful obtrusiveness, gentle and warm. Wang Keran gave Xiao Zhan a list of books and asked him to go back and read, after which Xiao Zhan finished the books in a few days, even wrote some 10 over questions to Wan Fang, the questions were simple but deep, and moved Wang Keran.

On the Cao Yu Commemoration Event, Wang Keran studied Xiao Zhan, and found that his sense of stage was fantastic, and immediately invited him to join “A Dream Like A Dream”.

To Wang Keran, the similarity between Xiao Zhan and Patient No. 5 was that they were both trapped in the uncertainties of fate.

Xiao Zhan’s portrayal of Patient No. 5 gave Wang Keran a pleasant surprise, as to whether he would continue as Patient No. 5 after this year’s shows, they had not spoken about it, but Wang Keran felt that “A Dream Like A Dream” already gave Xiao Zhan some rewards, “I feel that via this play, he can prove that he is a good actor, I feel that ‘A Dream Like A Dream’ gave him a power.”

“A Dream Like A Dream”, Xiao Zhan

Entering the Dream Again

Not only Xiao Zhan was a new addition, the Yanghua version of “A Dream Like A Dream” had almost a brand new cast.

Zhang Liang and Yanghua had collaborated for 2 plays, they were old friends; Huang Lu was recommended by Xu Qing, she was also the only actress that was confirmed without meeting Wang Keran.

Director Zhang Rui was in-charged of arranging actors, but because of the pandemic, the Taiwanese actress who was supposed to play the role of the wife could not arrive, another actress had to take on this role. “A Dream Like A Dream” had a total of 31 actors and actresses, many times one would take on multiple roles, any adjustment of actors would have big ramifications.

Zhang Rui created many versions of the casting chart, “This casting chart was an intricate process, move an actor, we might need to reallocate every scene, whether they could make the scene in time, whether they were suitable, reasonable, I’m so frustrated my hair’s dropping.”

Starting from 2013 when “A Dream Like A Dream” premiered in Mainland China, Director Chen Limei and Zhang Rui grew with this play for 9 years. Chen Lipai previously also handled the role of Stage Executive, Zhang Rui was with the crew everyday, there were the two who were most familiar with “A Dream Like A Dream”.

In their memory, the first rehearsal for 2013 lasted 3+ months, after which if there were not much changes with the actors, repeat rehearsals would last 1 week. Some years they had to change an actor, but yet they did not give sufficient rehearsal time and almost drove the actor insane, “Because the crowd actor had to act as multiple roles, the management of every role was complex, he needed to remember his position, his clothes, and he had to depend on himself, there would be no one backstage to inform him, he had to take care of himself.”

“A Dream Like A Dream”

This year, more than half of the cast was changed, theoretically they needed one and a half months, but to gather 31 actors to rehearse at the same time was not easy, the group merely squeezed out 17 days for practice time.

Practice time started officially from 9 Mar, the group settled in Hebei Tangshan, the time was tight, the mission was heavy.

Lai Shengchuan, who was faraway in Taiwan, gave instructions via video conferencing to the actors, to help answer their questions. Wang Keran, Chen Limei and Zhang Rui handled the task of direction.

Wang Keran mainly handled the mini classes to the new actors to the group, every actor had different classes to attend.

Huang Lu was a movie actress, her method for lines was to say to herself, but “A Dream Like A Dream” was to say them to 1200 audiences, Wang Keran gave her a training method, “He made me rehearse only with Xiao Zhan, each of us would stand at the furthest corner, but we must be able to hear each other’s lines, that is we needed to get used to speaking loudly, I felt that this method was actually quite crucial.”

“A Dream Like A Dream”, Xiao Zhan and Huang Lu during practice

When he first entered the group, Zhang Liang was tortured by the role of the Baron for 3 days, he totally could not find the sensation, Wang Keran gave him 3 days of progressive classes. The first class was to control the micro expressions and movements, “For example, the first day I reached Tianxian Court, he requested that when I did gestures, my hands could not be higher than my chest, when we normally spoke my palm would face up, but he said that the Baron could not have a moment where his palm was facing up, his palm would forever be facing down.”

The second class was culture class, discussing European culture, politics and artistic background, so as to understand the motives behind Baron’s actions. “Baron would not let Xianglan draw abstract art, made her start from still life, it actually had political connotations. Classical realism represented calm and control, whereas abstraction and symbolism, etc, developed from the lowest of the masses, represented the destruction to order, Baron hoped from the bottom of his heart that Xianglan would live with him, if you liked something he didn’t like, that represented betrayal to Baron, that’s where the cracks in their relationship started.”

Chen Limei and Zhang Rui understood every detail of “A Dream Like A Dream”, when the actors gave any small questions, they would immediately solve them.

For example, how to swiftly get into positions, what to wear after changing out, both directors could immediately give the correct answer, “We found that this time round that one of the new actors was slow in moving, he would say he could not make it, I would say you definitely could make it, you tell me why you couldn’t make it, I would know where you did wrong. He said it was very dark and he couldn’t find his bag, and he needed to take the gun from 2nd floor to the 1st floor, I said there’s another prop gun downstairs, you don’t have to carry it down, he said he didn’t know. We actually spoke to him after observing him for a few days, because we knew that the 2nd floor was very dark, we definitely had to ensure the safety of our actors first.”

“A Dream Like A Dream”, Xu Qing, Xiao Zhan, Zhang Liang, Huang Lu, Lan Nan, etc.

The time left for the directors was not much, rehearsal, costume, positions, etc, all had to be done simultaneously, the volume of “A Dream Like A Dream” was supposed to be large, there were pressures on progress, the experience for the whole group was basically demonic scheduling.

For example, for 22 Apr Charity Show, the schedule for the actors that day was like this —

10:30 to 11:30 Actors and actresses would set of from their hotels to the theater for make up and costume; 12:30 Lunch; 12:30 Microphone testing; 13:10 Warm up; 13:30 Audience entry; 14:00 Start of Charity Show.

After nearly 8 hours of performance, when the actors were having their media session it was already 30 minutes past midnight.

Everyday they worked for around 12 hours, that would be the normal hours for the group for the month, during practice they did not wear their make up and costume, but they still had to set out by 12:00, practice starts 13:00, 17:00 was dinner, 18:00 was practice again, and they end at 22:00.

“This time round we really went for it, we didn’t work this hard previously, because we changed very few people then, we could probably get to the practice at 2pm,” Chen Limei said.

“A Dream Like A Dream”, actors practicing

The tight rehearsal schedule was a challenge physically to the actors, as they practiced day and night everyday, even Huang Lu felt lost once.

“Because we would be acting the same thing everyday, everyday when you went in, it was day, but when you left, it was night, that period of time I really craved a normal life. There was once we were video conferencing with Teacher Lai, I just said that after this play, I suddenly feel that plays, movies weren’t that important, what’s important was our real life, I especially wanted to experience communicating with people, the feeling of being with family, friends and loved ones.

When you filmed dramas, you would still be outside, after you knock off you could be in touch with a more realistic life. When I was in the same play group as Zhang Ruoyun, we practiced in Beijing, everyday we practiced for around 3 hours, we could still meet friends in the afternoon and night, but this play was concentrated practice, when we left it would already be midnight.”

“A Dream Like A Dream”, Xu Qing and Huang Lu during practice

Wang Keran could foresee, that actors would experience this type of lethargy, so the arrangement from the very beginning was that after the 17 days of practice, the group would briefly rest for a period of time, until a week before the Wuhan Show, where he would recall them.

This method of working was not easily seen in plays, but to actors, this was a good time to rest and digest.

“The first day we returned, Keran said that was the best time I’ve acted with Xiao Zhan,” Huang Lu said. “Perhaps in-between I had time to digest, get in touch with real life, and had a new understanding.”

In comparison with “A Dream Like A Dream” from 8 years ago, besides the changes in actors, this year’s Yanghua version also shortened the script by around 15 minutes or so, without affecting the foundation of the script.

The adjustment was mainly on the pace of the actors. For example, at the end of the upper half, the housekeeper of the castle would talk about the past of Baron and Gu Xianglan, it used to use a slow and narrative tone, Wang Keran felt that it was not right, “This type of expression seemed to cause Grandpa, who just arrived at Shanghai, to seem unfamiliar with his surroundings, but in fact, Grandpa was very familiar with the castle, he could have returned frequently, like the feeling of a tour guide,” so he adjusted the tone and pace, and made the play richer and more layered.

“A Dream Like A Dream”, Xu Qing, Zhang Liang, Lan Nan

Every improvement in detail, came from written notes from everyday.

When rehearsing, both directors would sit in the middle of the lotus pond, with a small table, and a faint table lamp, the actors would be acting while the directors discover problems and mark it in the script, or write furiously on white paper, after the end of a day’s rehearsal, the paper would be littered with over 200 to 300 notes.

After the rehearsal ends, actors would sit together in the lotus pond and listen to the directors reading the notes one by one, every actor would record down their respective portions.

Xiao Zhan’s phone memo was full of everyday’s notes, for example there were around 10 notes for 19 Apr, Xiao Zhan’s note taking method was simple and concise, note down the scene, or a point, with the remarks of watch out for emotion or pace.

In Zhang Liang’s memory, with regards to his notes, there were up to 20 notes a day, but later on as the problems lessened, the notes also reduced.

Director Chen Limei said, some actors would be confused, why were there always 200 to 300 new notes everyday during the note session, did that mean that they had not improved, but actually everyone was getting better on the basis that they were already getting better.

“A Dream Like A Dream”, the directors at the rehearsal

There was a process in practicing, at the start you might not have memorized all the lines, that note would be about lines, when the lines passed, it could have been about wrong position or movement, at the last part when the acting was getting better, I might notice intricate details such as costume, hairstyle, which you needed to notice carefully. Every stage had its own set of problems discovered, only when you walked from Step 1 to Step 2 that I can see the problems of the current step, otherwise my focus would not be that.”

For example, on the last day before the official show, the note for Xiao Zhan became “the singing before the curtain call, stand slightly westwards” this type of small details.

After experiencing the full dress rehearsal of 18, 19 and 20 Apr, the last day of rehearsal became “note rehearsal”, that is to repeatedly rehearse based on the problems in the notes so as to affirm the scenes that could easily cause issues, including the group scene at Tianxian Court, the scenes between Baron and Young Xianglan, etc. For Xiao Zhan and Huang Lu, the scene they rehearsed was the propless scene around the staircase, which needed to take note of the eye contact as they two of them went up and down the stairs, entering by pushing the door.

After the premiere on 22nd ended, the notes continued, so as to have new improvements for the consecutive shows.

“A Dream Like A Dream”, Xu Qing, Zhang Liang, etc.

Idealism

After the full dress rehearsal ended on 19 Apr, all of the actors gathered backstage, surrounding the directors, quietly standing, it seemed like a special ceremony.

For the new actors who joined this year, this was their first time witnessing this ceremony, but to the actors who had been with “A Dream Like A Dream” before, this had already became a habit.

Director Chen Limei introduced that this ending ceremony was called “Echo”, it was a habit from Lai Shengchuan — a habit that existed since the first premiere in 2013, “When we finish a show, and gain the applause from our audiences, as well as new empathy for our roles, we must return this feelings out, give them to more people, you can imagine that there was a large crowd of people, we would send out these blessings and share them.”

After “A Dream Like A Dream” came to Mainland China, it had always been well acclaimed, it used to show in Beijing and another specific city. Starting the 9 Cities Tour, especially adding the Wuhan Charity Show, was also a form of “Echo”, to share this play with even more audiences.

“A Dream Like A Dream”, Wuhan Charity Show inside view

2 years ago, in Chongqing Theatre, Wang Keran came up with the idea to get more people to understand theater, experience theater. He started conceptualizing the 9th Anniversary 9 Cities Tour for “A Dream Like A Dream”.

When they heard of this plan, Chen Limei and Zhang Rui thought it was an impossible wish.

“Because ‘A Dream Like A Dream’ was such a large play, we would actually lose money by doing a tour. Such a big group, there’s about 130 people in the group, so many people’s living expenditures, including putting up the set for each location, it takes a week to put it up, only for a few shows.

Until the start of last year, Keran told us that we would still do it, I said we really had to do it? How could we do this in the pandemic? Last year he said that we could definitely do it the next year. This might had to do with his view of life, he would do what he set out to do, just like then when he did his first play, he sold 4 houses.”

In comparison with previous “A Dream Like A Dream”, the investment of this tour was obviously bigger. More touring cities meant that there was more costs with transfer of set, when they rehearsed in Tangshan it was not as good as Beijing, all the actors had to be in Tangshan with their living expenditures.

On the other hand, the seats in the theaters were fixed, there’s a ceiling to the ticket prices, in the face that it was not profitable, Wang Keran included a not-for-sale charity show, “The cost is too high, after completing the charity show, we basically have no profits for this stop,” Wang Keran said.

“A Dream Like A Dream”, Xu Qing and Xiao Zhan during rehearsal

Early last year during the pandemic period, Wang Keran already thought of doing a charity show in Wuhan.

Then, he spoke on the phone with the person in-charge of the theater, and asked about the situation in Wuhan, “He had always stuck to Wuhan, and told me that if you really cared about us, then you should bring your best show over, I asked which one did you mean? He said ‘A Dream Like A Dream’. I just felt that if ‘A Dream Like A Dream’ did not come, it would not fully express our special respect for Wuhan, and we would do a charity show, free.”

The actors had the same idealism.

Wang Keran said, theater would definitely be tough, the rehearsal time was long, and while they would perform for 3 days in every stop, they had to allocate 1 week for practice, a popular artist’s time would be calculated in days, but they were willing to allocate their schedule for the play.

Sun Zhongyi, who played roles such as the old housekeeper and professor, was one of the core actors for Yanghua Theatre, he was given the rare opportunity for a lead role in a movie, it was very important to him, but the schedule collided with one of the shows for “A Dream Like A Dream”, and for the play, he gave up this rare opportunity.

“A Dream Like A Dream”, actors rehearsing.

Plays do not earn as much as dramas and movies, no matter how popular the celebrity is, the profits from plays will never match up with the value of the drama, an actor’s rehearsal fee for “A Dream Like A Dream” is 100RMB a day, but all of the actors cooperated seriously.

Huang Lu said, sometimes we would joke that we “missed money making opportunities”, but everyone felt that this was especially fine, it was rare that we had a whole year to focus on doing one thing, the period where we practiced in Tangshan was very much like return to school.

“Everyone basically didn’t come here for money,” Huang Lu said, she viewed “A Dream Like A Dream” as a rare opportunity, it was a training for acting, also like a chance for self improvement.

After the “A Dream Like A Dream” Wuhan Charity Show ended, Huang Lu came to the front lobby for a photo.

Every actor gave their best performance.

Newly added actress for Young Gu Xianglan, Ge Xinyi, worked hard to match her senior; seasoned actress Feng Xianzhen controlled her character with grace and power, all 3 Gu Xianglan had an overall soul; Zhang Liang performed a Baron who was different from Jin Shijie’s version, but it was still accurate and layered; Fu Xing as the representative of the original group, became the foundation, their steady and down-to-earth performance assisted every new actor in building up their steady and accurate system of performance.

After performing for 9 years, Xu Qing had already embodied the blood and soul of Gu Xianglan, she also followed the progress of the group, and participated in all of the practices. Wang Keran expressed his thanks to Xu Qing once in Tangshan, “I say I really thank you for appearing in the practice, because your every practice would always accurately complete every detail, even if it was the most basic practice, you always put your heart to it, never held back, completely constructing the character.”

Xu Qing constantly improved her performance, frequently discussing how to handle every word with Wang Keran, for example after Baron had his car accident, Gu Xianglan would run up hurriedly to the police to say “I saw your incompetence” that kind of transition scenes, she would repeatedly try different expressions, after 9 years of “A Dream Like A Dream”, she is still pondering over it repeatedly, searching for the best method to handle every detail.

“A Dream Like A Dream”, Xu Qing and Zhang Liang during rehearsal.

During the rehearsal in Wuhan, Yuli Studio also witnessed how Xu Qing gave all of her emotions in every rehearsal, especially the important scene where Gu Xianglan took off her Cheongsam and walked through the lotus pond in sleeping garments, everytime Xu Qing finished that performance, her eyes would be filled with tears.

Xu Qing told Wang Keran one sentence later, and hoped that he would share that with the new actors, “Just tell them this point, 1 minute onstage, 9 years of effort offstage.”

Theater people always had this persistence in idealism and passion for the stage, with so much interest in “A Dream Like A Dream” this time round, Wang Keran hoped that with this play, more audiences would understand plays and love plays.

He especially prepared a live broadcast after the charity show ended, so that people beyond that 1200 audiences could see “A Dream Like A Dream”, hear the words from the actors’ hearts, he hoped that the other actors besides Xu Qing and Xiao Zhan would also be noticed.

“I know that the rules of news broadcast, if it wasn’t live broadcast, you would definitely cut away the people who weren’t important, right, but I hoped that everybody could see everyone’s effort. Xu Qing, Xiao Zhan, they were also very happy to have this method, I think that this is also a faith in collaboration equality built upon plays for them.”

“A Dream Like A Dream” would continue to tour 9 cities, Wang Keran hoped that through this play, it would encourage more youths to enter theaters, “I had this thought a long time ago, I just needed to find the right opportunity. For all of our lives we had hoped that plays would have more influence, could have more people entering theaters, if this worked out, then actors and actresses such as Xu Qing, Xiao Zhan, Zhang Liang etc, would have great contribution.”

[willow-tree-writes]

❀Bet {1}❀

JJ Maybank x Reader

Summary: You were always the good girl that didn’t do anything outside your parents’ wishes. Including dating bad boys. Out of the blue, the baddest of boys comes and asks you on a date. The catch? You don’t know quite yet...

Request: N/A

Author’s Note: This idea is kind of based off 10 Thing I Hate About You. Great movies, if you haven’t watched it, please go watch it.

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: Cursing

!I don’t own this gif!

“He’s a bad boy, Di.” You didn't look up from your notebook as you finished your poem for English.

Dina, who sat next to you at the library table, huffed. “But he’s so your type - blond hair, blue eyes, built like a God. He’s the whole fucking package.” 

You rolled your eyes, closing the notebook and turning to her. “Who drinks, smokes, and has sex with anything that breathes with a vagina. I want someone a little more stable.”

She groans, throwing her head back. “You’re a 16 year old virgin, Y/N. Stability is a middle-aged person thing.”

You laugh a little and shake your head. “One, it’s not. Two, even if I was interested in him, there’s no way in hell he’d ever notice me.”

She smirks, hearing your second point as you possibly being interested in the boy. “I can think of a way for you to get his attention…”

“No.” You frantically shake your head. “Hell no.”

“Come on! You never go!” 

You laughed. “Yeah, cause I don’t feel like getting drunk around a bunch of fake people.”

She pouted. “Come on…” She whined. “Just one! I promise I won’t leave your side for a second, or get drunk.”

You sigh, shaking your head. You were about to say no when you looked at your best friend. She displayed a puppy dog face. You sigh again, closing your eyes. “Just this one time.” She never did the puppy dog face unless she really wanted something.

She squealed, jumping up from her seat. “Yes!” 

The librarian, who was a good distance from you two, looked in your direction at Dina’s outburst. “Shh!”

She giggled out an apology before suffocating you in a hug.

You were so going to regret this.

----

JJ plopped down in his seat at the cafeteria table. “Yo, John B, watch this.” He hit his friend lightly on the arm as he grabbed a french fry. 

Kie rolled her eyes from where she sat. “Do you always have to do this?”

He ignored her as he tossed the french fry up in the air, catching it in his mouth long ways.

John B chuckled. “How long did it take you to do that?” 

He shrugged, chewing the fry. “Fucking long enough to be appreciated.”

Everyone at the table snorted at JJ’s comment. Their laughs died quickly when a few Kooks came over and sat at their table around them.

“You guys lost or something?” 

The one that seemed to be the leader of the pack, Gavin they thought his name was, spoke. “I was actually looking for a favor.”

“Look elsewhere.” John B answered, sitting back a little.

JJ looks at the fake watch on his wrist. “Come back when we’re working. Oh, wait, that’s never.”

Gavin rolled his eyes a little. “We both know I can pay. So humor me.”

JJ crossed his arms. “You humor us.”

“I need one of you to trick a girl for me.” He looked at the boys, but specifically John B and JJ. 

They all laugh a little. “Sorry, but that’s not our thing.”

One of the Kook goons patted his friend on the back. “You didn’t let him finish.”

JJ rolled his eyes and signaled for Gavin to continue.

“She’s right over there.” He points across the cafeteria to a H/C girl sitting with a brunette. “Her best friend is a total babe. But she won’t date anyone unless the both of them are getting some.”

John B shook his head. “And I’m guessing that’s where we come in?”

JJ speaks up before Gavin can say anything more. “Why can’t you get one of your ‘friends’ to do your dirty work?”

“This girl has specific tastes. And one of them is she prefers anyone but Kooks.” Gavin looks away from the two girls and back at the two boys. “So, what do you say? Will one of you take the offer?”

The table was silent for a moment. Kie was disgusted with the premise of using a girl just to get into another girl’s pants. Pope was glad he didn't get rope into this. John B knew sure as hell he wasn’t going to do this. But JJ, he was actually considering it.

“Alright, bet.” JJ says after a while, shoving a french fry in his mouth. “I’ll do it.”

Gavin smiles and pats him on the back. “That’s what I’m talking about, man. Her name is Y/N.”

----

“Now that’s what I’m talking about, girl!” Di squeals as she looks you up and down.

You were in a pair of black ripped jean shorts that kept riding up on your thighs. Your F/C crop top barely covered any part of your stomach, also riding up every now and then. You didn’t do much with your hair, not wanting to seem like you got really ready for a Kegger Party.

Di drags you to where most people are. “Thank my mom. I was going to come in tights and a t-shirt.” You mumbled.

She rolls her eyes playfully as she shoves a red solo cup in your hand. “Of course you were.”

“What’s in this?” Sloshing the liquid inside, it looked like a cheap substitute for red wine mixed with hard beer.

She shrugged and grabbed your arm, pulling you where more people were. “Who cares! Let loose for once and have some fun!”

You laugh a little and look back at the contents of your cup. Maybe a couple sips wouldn’t be that big of a deal.

Boy was that a bad idea.

The alcohol tasted cheap and went down like a child scared of a waterslide. It also hit you like a truck on an icy road.

You didn’t realize this until you were babbling on about the horrible quality of the education system to some poor Touron from Maine. Di, who had had way more to drink than you, was right behind you, laughing every once in a while at what you said. 

“I mean, who the hell cares about proofs? I shouldn’t have to prove shit!” It’s not like you even drank a lot. You had, at most, four sips.

The Touron was a mix between an uncaring tipsy and a concerned sober. “I need to get another drink.” He got up and, without waiting for you to respond, rushed off away from the kegger.

Not processing he was ditching you, you waited nice and patiently for him to return. You waited five minutes. Which turned to ten minutes. Then twenty. Then thirty. Then Di had to come over and correct your thinking.

“Girlie,” she slurred, almost tripping on you. She did seem to have sober up a little bit. “He’s gone gone. Like so gone.”

You sighed, helping her stand up properly. In the back of your mind you knew you overstepped, but you couldn’t say it.

After you were sure she could stand up on her own, you said, “I think I’m gonna-”

You had started to turn around and head towards the kegger when the sudden appearance of a body set you landing down right on your ass.

“Mother of all ducks and gooses…” You mutter, rubbing the part of your butt that wasn’t completely in the sand.

A hand popped in front of your face. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

The voice was one you didn’t really recall. But the face… If the blow to your ass didn’t sober you up, the thought of talking to this boy would have.

His smile was goofy, but presented itself like he knew how he made girls feel. Which he did. “Y/N, right?”

How the hell did JJ Maybank know your name? There was no way he should have known your name. It was impossible.

You felt a nudge on your shoulder and glanced back to see Di trying to contain her excitement and failing. Looking back forward, you slowly take his hand and let him help you stand back up.

“Y-Yeah…” 

“Great.” He didn’t let go of your hand once you were standing. Instead, he started to pull you over to a group you recognized as his friends.

You might have been a little too quick to stop him. “Wait, wait.” You pulled back on your hand. It didn’t get him to let go; only to slow down. “What - Who - Why?” You weren’t completely sober, so complete sentences and comprehensive thought wasn’t a friend.

He laughed, enjoying the effect he had on you. “Go on a date with me.”

That wasn’t a question. And the bluntness of it made you want to take a couple steps back. JJ Maybank, head Pogue boy or whatever, was asking a low profile Kook on a date. Something wasn’t right there.

Before you could open your mouth to answer, Di came and leaned over your shoulder. “Yes! Of course she’s gonna go on a date with you.” The smell of alcohol was a little too much for you.

He let go of your hand, which left a cold spot, and flashed you a charming smile. “Great. Meet me here on Friday. 3:30.” With that, he just walked back to his friends.

You were left sober with a drunk best friend to deal with and one question on your mind - What the fuck just happened?