#The sequel advanced it a little but then no more

[kyliafanfiction]

Every once in a while, you open a story - fanfic, original, whatever - and you think it’ll just be some nice, kinky fun that appeals to your id or whatever.

And then the author slams you in the face with character development, and backstory, and thematic narrative, and ARCs and moral nuance and FEELS SO MANY FUCKING FEELS

[nvuy]

hijacked — boothill

summary. a mission to retrieve some files from a banquet hall goes wayward south when a galaxy ranger shows up to ruin your night—and score some bonus kisses while he’s at it.

notes. save me space cowboy… save me… remembered his entire body is robotic except his head. the possibilities to hack it and take over……….. ngh

HEY YOU!! there’s a sequel now.

warnings. little bit of threatening, mind control/hacking/hijacking? you take over his body for like a few minutes? is that a warning?

“Hey, pretty thing.”

Target locked. Your scanners had already tracked him before you could even realise he was speaking to you.

You swiftly hid away the USB drive in your purse.

Did he know?

It seemed his own eye enhancements—although a lot less subtle than yours—were scanning you down as well. How transactional. You’d hoped the walls you’d put up were enough to keep whatever technology he had at bay. Or at least, not trigger any alarms.

“You looked lonely. Was g’nna buy you a drink. Help you loosen up a bit.” He swished his own drink in your face for good measure. The coupe glass in his hands looked odd. He didn’t seem like a cocktail man. Not at all.

He looked like a whiskey man. Hard whiskey. With ice. In a tumbler with ribbed glass. You could picture it.

He just looked so out of place at the banquet.

He wasn’t even following the dress code. He was wearing boots, and a pair of old pants with zips along the calves. A hat with a white feather woven into the fabric rested on a head of long white hair with splashes of black around his face.

“No thanks,” you said with a wave. You tried to discreetly scan down his body, searching for any sort of hint of how you could get into his system.

His pants and what little material of his jacket hid most of the metal of his body. Internally, you cursed at it. He had no clear openings in his neck or arms. His head seemed entirely organic.

No weak spots.

“N’aww. Shame.”

The front door felt a lot further away now. Even more so, knowing he was most definitely here for you. He hadn’t even introduced himself yet. You had a feeling he knew he didn’t need to.

“Was g’nna ask ya to dance.”

You laughed awkwardly. “I can’t dance in these shoes.”

“Take ‘em off. Who cares?” he bantered playfully. “I’ll watch out for ‘em if they’re expensive.”

“They’re priceless,” you quipped back. “All of me is.”

“Good. You know your worth.”

You were actually worth about fifteen million, as according to your wanted status by the IPC. You weren’t sure if this man was a part of them, though members of the IPC were always very adamant on letting you know that, yes, they did work at the IPC. It was usually the first thing that came out of their mouths.

Questioning if they actually worked at the IPC opened another entire can of worms.

You didn’t feel the need to ask. Not in that moment, at least.

“And what’s yours?” you asked him with a bat of your lashes.

He winked. “Guess.”

You smiled and scanned him down again. “Depends. I’d have to see what you’re made of.”

“Naughty.” He leaned back against the wall with you. “You sure you don’t want that drink? It’s a cosmopolitan.”

Very sure. You were convinced that he’d just taken the drink from one of the server’s trays. You couldn’t imagine he’d walked up to the bar and requested it for himself.

“You strike me as a whiskey man,” you eased. It came past your lips like butter.

He flashed his teeth in warning.

Then, he sipped his drink. “You’re good. Anything else you can read with your fancy eyes?”

You stopped short.

He did know. It wasn’t a surprise, not at all. He wasn’t entirely human. He must have been equipped with similar technology to realise just how advanced yours was.

You realised then with a shaky breath that you had the same vision enhancements as he did. An even match, unable to read through to each other.

He must have had so much more, too. You only had so many enhancements, whereas he was made almost entirely of metal. The thought of amount of different codings and technology he had crammed into every wire of his body gave you a headache.

Bad idea. You shouldn’t have provoked him. You needed to retreat. You needed to get home, preferably safely, with the USB stored nice and snug in your purse.

You tried not to let your nervousness show, but by the way he was staring at you, you knew he could read your face.

“That’s it, then. You’ve figured out my party trick.” You got up from the wall. “Thank you for the offer. The drink, I mean.” You cleared your throat. “I’ll be going now.”

“I’m not scaring you off, am I?” He got up off the wall too.

He hadn’t taken his eyes off of you.

“Not at all.” When you turned to face him, he was smiling so wide his eyes had crinkled. “Have a good night.”

“At least let me walk you out,” he insisted. He also offered to hold your purse, to which you quickly declined. That only made him smile impossibly wider. “What sort of man am I to not see a pretty thing like you get home safe?”

You headed towards the hallway, knowing he was right behind you.

The banquet was still in full swing, barely even close to ending. Most of the cast were drunk or getting there. Heels had been discarded, some missing their pair, skewed all over the dancefloor like glitter.

The golden chandelier in the main room was yet to be pulled from the ceiling. You were surprised nobody had tried to swing from it yet.

You dodged chattering groups and couples in the hallway—one of them had decided to put on a full display while right next to an unoccupied bedroom, right there in the centre of the hall.

Another one was gagging dangerously close to your feet.

You shouldered past them. “Stop following me, Ranger.”

“Don’t make this more difficult than it needs to be.” You felt his hair brush over your shoulder.

You knew he had a weapon. He wouldn’t have come to threaten you without one.

Before you could reach the door handle, he grabbed your wrist, pulled you backwards, and into the unoccupied guest room that the couple hadn’t bothered to take.

He shut the door with a loud slam, though not before hearing someone whistle out in the corridor.

Your head snapped towards him. He was leaning on the door, his arms crossed, looking almost unbothered.

“We can play this game all day, pumpkin. I got time.” He waved you off with a grin. “Give me the files. I’m askin’ nicely. I won’t force ya to hand ‘em over. Yet.”

You gritted your teeth.

You were so fucking close. So close to getting out of here, and then he had to come—this walking hunk of metal and scrap—and ruin everything.

Nothing ever went your fucking way anyway. You shouldn’t have been shocked something like this would happen.

You held your purse tightly in your hands. All of this was pointless. The dress, the heels, the hair, the nails, the makeup. All of it.

You just hoped by some miracle that he hadn’t found your locator beacon yet. You’d hidden it well; within the bushes outside away from anyone’s line of sight, but he wasn’t just anyone. He could see things a lot of people couldn’t.

“C’mon. You know you wanna…” He smiled sweetly for good measure. It looked like a threat. When he leaned to the side, the golden barrel of a gun flashed beneath his belt.

You could try to make a backup. Right then. You had what you needed in your watch. He’d probably stop you before it was complete.

Or…

Or what? What else could you do?

Your locator beacon wasn’t responding, though it hadn’t been broken. Most likely deactivated temporarily. You bounced on your heels.

You then formed the worst idea of your life.

With shaky hands, you walked towards him slowly. You reached into your purse, feeling for the cold plastic of the black USB he wanted to get his grubby hands on.

“Knew you’d come ‘round.” He held out his hand expectantly.

You fished the USB from your bag.

Then, before you could place it into his palm, you tripped and almost broke your nose on his torso. Your hands splayed desperately onto his chest to keep your face from shattering on impact.

He was quick to grab your arms to steady you with a surprised grunt.

There was a whirring sound, and then the sound of something mechanical and wrong. Foreign. Not from his body, but from yours.

The spaces beneath his joints lit up abright yellow for a moment before his hands loosened from your arms.

You grinned. Gotcha.

When you pulled back, he witnessed you pull a strange light from beneath his skin before you held it along your fingers.

When he blinked, you had an entire copy of his body in the palm of your hand. A hologram formed of his entire artificial makeup. Every crevice of his body, all of the metal that weaved to make him who he was.

All of it in your hand, with puppet strings attached.

It was missing just his head.

He froze. And then, he rushed out a simple, “what did you do?”

You tapped on his holographic arm on the screen. “Hijacked.”

When you moved it, his arm twitched to life.

Against his will, he pulled the gun from his holster and dropped it to the floor. It clattered uselessly onto the carpet.

He could only simply stare as his body moved against his will. There was no way to even twitch a finger with all his might.

It was like you had shut down all of his systems and replaced them with your own.

He should’ve seen this coming.

You whistled as you studied the model of him in your hands. When you tapped onto his neck, it zoomed in to show every single wire and thread of metal, as well as an accompanying string of coding.

“I don’t need any special enhancements to read you. What sort of cyborg comes in alone to try and stop me? You know who I am, don’t you?”

He wasn’t able to move his body. He said not a word.

“Somebody clearly doesn’t understand their body.” You patted his chest. His fans had kicked in. You could hear them whirring.

He was glaring at you.

“Did the IPC send you?”

After a moment, he scoffed. “Hardly. I don’t work for those… people.” It seemed like he wanted to say something else, but decided against it.

“Huh.” You didn’t think he was lying. “So… you’re not concerned about my bounty?”

“You said yourself you were priceless,” he countered easily. Despite his position, he was still grinning. “And besides, I’m sure my bounty is heaps bigger than yours.”

You almost snapped. He’d come to gloat, even at a disadvantage.

“You look better with your mouth shut,” you spat. You shoved the lining of code in his face for him to see, making the holographic blue screen as large as you possibly could. “I could make you tear yourself apart. I could make you forget who you are. I could alter whatever sort of brain you have in there. Watch yourself.”

Still glaring, but this time his lips sealed almost instantly.

You made him stand ram rod straight as you turned around, now eyeing a golden vanity next to the bed. The bedroom was surprisingly clean, save for a few empty glasses strewn about. No stains, no messes.

You sat down in the chair and angled the mirror so you could keep your eye on him.

You breathed out, trying not to stare at him for too long. You could feel your irritation growing, and it was showing on your face. If you stared at him for any longer, you feared you’d pull his limbs off with your own bare hands.

You fished out the powder from your purse and leaned closer to the mirror.

Maybe if you looked better, you’d feel better.

“You’re seriously dollin’ yourself up right now?” he asked, briskly annoyed.

You dabbed the sponge beneath your eyes. “Can’t let anyone think I let you put your hands on me. I have standards.”

He had nice hair. You weren’t sure if it was real, though. You weren’t sure if he could even grow hair. He was almost entirely artificial, save for his head.

He didn’t seem to age—his face, at least. You weren’t sure how old he was supposed to be, but his organic skin still looked fresh, as if left untouched and well taken care of.

Maybe it’s because that was all he had left of him.

You snapped the powder shut.

The ranger sneered. “Yeah, yeah. I’d beat you in a fight anyway.”

“‘Course you would,” you answered easily. You pulled a stick of gloss from your bag. You swiped the lipgloss over your lips, fixing it with the tip of your nail. “That’s not what I’m talking about, though.”

You stood from the chair, placing the gloss back in your purse.

“You’d never hit me, would you?”

His face almost lit up with fury.

It was absolutely hilarious.

“You’re so lucky I can't move,” he threatened. “You wouldn’t recognise your pretty face in the mirror.”

“Such a gentleman.” You stood on the tips of your toes to press your lips to his cheek. You hoped the sticky gloss bothered him, knowing he would be unable to wipe it off of him. You hoped it stained his milky skin a nice glittery bubblegum pink.

You hoped the scent of your perfume lingered on his skin, and he never forgot your name.

“Of course, gorgeous.” That same mocking tone. “Anything for you.”

You held the USB up to his lips. “Open.”

Begrudgingly, he did so.

You slipped the stick past his lips until his teeth caught onto the plastic and held it still.

“You can have it. I already got what I needed anyway.”

You kissed his other cheek for good measure, lingering for a moment before you pulled away. Two pink glittering stains on his face now; perfectly symmetrical.

“I’ll be thinking of you.” And that you would. You winked at him. “Bye, Boothill.”

Then, with sudden grid lines of yellow forming over your figure, the locator beacon buzzed to life, and you disappeared.

In the blink of an eye, you were outside in the cold night air. There were few people out in the front garden of the building, and none had spotted you.

You picked up the gadget and quickly left. A copy of his body and the USB were now a collection in your own personal belongings.

As soon as you vanished, Boothill regained control of his limbs and fell to the floor, trembling with the after effects of your invasion. His teeth were gritted as he pulled himself up onto the guest bed.

He spat the USB out before he could bite down and damage it.

He held it between his thumb and index finger.

There was a smear of your lipgloss on the side of the USB stick.

Mission accomplished, he supposed.

He also had two matching lipgloss stains on his skin as a trophy. He could see how stupid he looked in the vanity mirror.

He snickered with clenched, shaking fists.

You smelled like strawberry.

[ariaste]

Hello, published author here who just noticed a thing in the s3 teaser that may help us to determine the timeline:

This is not an ARC. ARCs, aka "Advance Review Copies" or "Advance Reader Copies" are sent out in advance of the publication of a book in order for magazines/newspapers/whoever (and these days, online book influencers) to review it, and for booksellers to have a chance to read it so they can order copies for their store and hand-sell it better on publication day. ARCs usually go out around 3-4 months before publication.

ARCs are also sometimes called "advance uncorrected proofs" because they usually haven't been through copyedits yet (aka typo-finding and punctuation-checking). ARCs are always clearly marked on the front cover as what they are, to make it harder for people to sell them online and so that bookstores don't accidentally put them out as merchandise.

We know that the IWTV team knows this becaaaaause, from the end of s2e8:

*THAT'S* an ARC. You can see how it says so all over, both "advance reader's copy" and "advance uncorrected proof". It's also a paperback (as ARCs usually are) rather than the hardback that Lestat is holding -- all very typical and correct.

And here is a finished copy. And we know exactly how far after publication it is, because:

Daniel also gives a shout out to a "book fair" and Atlanta, which I take to mean the Decatur Book Festival, which takes place in October. So that means the book would have been published in June -- nice timing! Get all that good Pride Month promo for this gay-ass vampire memoir. So far we are nailing the Expected Publishing Industry Timeline And Behaviors.

So the only thing I can tell you definitively about what this means is that Louis got that ARC probably in February, aka around eight fucking months ago at the end of s2, and still hasn't even skimmed it, and that is HILARIOUS of him. not a shred of guilt on him about it either. (if you get a print ARC (as opposed to an e-ARC) and you don't even read it, it is polite to be a little embarrassed about that. not my personal best friend Louis DPDL tho.)

As for whether Daniel is a vampire during the s3 trailer -- the thing we are all clamoring to know -- I have two possible ways the timeline could be working, given the publishing industry stuff:

OPTION 1: Louis leaves Dubai -> Goes to New Orleans for Depression Hovel reunion, refuses to get back together with Lestat -> Lestat "I will woo him back with a Song, just like last time. ok that didn't work I'LL GO BIGGER. that didn't work. BIGGER" Lioncourt starts his rockstar career as a Gotta Get My Man Back tantrum -> Daniel finishes the manuscript, delivers it to his publisher, and sends an ARC to Louis (February) -> Book is published, bestseller (June) -> Daniel (who was turned at some unknown point) goes on TV about it (October) -> famous currently-bestselling journalist gets in touch with up-and-coming rockstar to get his side of the story -> Lestat has a mental breakdown on camera about how Louis is not even paying attention to all the albums he is recording, hurtful, tragic, heartbreaking

or

OPTION 2: Daniel DEFINITELY got out of Dubai alive -> [all of the above up to "Daniel sends an ARC to Louis"] -> book is getting great reviews -> already-famous Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist gets in contact with up-and-coming rockstar to do the sequel even before the book is out (slightly odd publishing choice but when you have two Pulitzers, the rules are different, so it's not implausible) -> Daniel gets his finished copies of the book (which brings us to probably May at the earliest; you don't usually get your finished copies more than a month in advance) and has one on set for interviewing Lestat -> Lestat has his sexy little rockstar breakdown on camera -> Daniel is human for interviewing Lestat but gets turned by Armand somewhere in the five-month span between finished copies arriving in May and his TV interview in October.

Option 1 gives the show writers a little more timeline wiggle room, which can be useful, but Option 2 is more Dramatic and builds extra tension if Daniel is trying to do this interview while not having a good time with his Parkinson's. Either way Louis is just out here not answering anybody's phone calls or reading the lovely ARC he was so thoughtfully sent bc he's busy redecorating his house.

THAT SAID, please take all of this with a grain of salt, i have been losing my mind over the s3 trailer and i may have missed something

this has been your war correspondent a report from the publishing industry. thank you and goodnight

[steddie-as-they-come]

sequel to my roommate steddie au!! here's the first part! tags have changed, it's now more mature with some fade to black sex

Steve’s so warm. It’s not fair.

Eddie must have half his wardrobe on, tucked under all the blankets on his bed, and Steve is just sitting over there, in a T-shirt and thin sweatpants, like the jackass he is.

"You look cold." Steve says, shifting a bit.

Eddie glares at him. "No shit, Sherlock," he bites out, trying to reign in his temper. All things considered, Steve's a pretty great roommate, sharing his food and his children with Eddie. It's not his fault the college decides to let their students freeze to death.

Steve, to his credit, just laughs at him. "Okay, fine. I was gonna offer for you to come hang out over here, since you're over the vent and I'm not, but if you're gonna be like that-"

Eddie practically teleports out of bed. "No! No, please, Steve, did I ever mention how great your hair looks today and how kind you are to me-"

Steve laughs again, moving out of the way and patting the bed next to him. Eddie doesn't hesitate to scurry up and tuck himself into a little cocoon of his own blankets, trying not to bump Steve's arm as he focuses on his homework. He doesn't completely succeed, and his hand brushes against Steve's bare arm.

"What the fuck?" he says loudly. "Why are you the temperature of a campfire?"

Steve shrugs. "I've always run hot." he says. "It's great during winter movie nights because everyone piles on top of me, but then I get banished during summer movie nights, which is no fun."

Eddie's already sprawled over his shoulder, sighing happily, like some kind of lizard on a sunlit rock. If August Eddie could see him now, he'd try to smack the shit outta him for falling for a straight guy. One who was his roommate, no less.

But it's hard not to when Steve is kind, and accepting, and a little bit stupid, and hot as hell. It isn't like he just tolerates Eddie's physical affection either, he seems to welcome it. Steve even started initiating it, wrapping an arm around Eddie's shoulders, grabbing his arm to haul him out of particularly big crowds, and the hugs. Steve loves hugs.

There's a darkness to Steve too, the way he moves, the way he's always checking over his shoulder, flinching at flickering lights, always ready for a fight.

It makes Eddie wonder if Steve is like him.

Eddie wiggles a bit, adjusting his chin to prop on Steve's shoulder. "Whatcha workin' on?" he asks, just to be nosy.

Steve rolls his eyes, leaning away. "None of your business." he teases.

Eddie misses the warmth as soon as Steve's gone. "Nooooo," he whines. "Come back. I won't look!"

Steve stays leaned away, raising his eyebrows. "You're so weird." he says. It's not in a mean way, more that he's bewildered that one person can be this strange. Eddie takes this as a compliment.

He pretends to freeze to death, jerking and flinching. "It's...so cold." he mutters. "I see...the light... All because my roommate...let me freeze to death..."

Finally, Steve's blissful warmth comes back, and Steve sighs, tapping his pen against his paper. Eddie tries to peek again, and recognizes familiar words.

"Is that a character sheet?" he yells, and Steve frowns at him.

"You said you wouldn't look!"

Eddie waves him off, grabbing for the sheet. "Steve, this is D&D. It's automatically my business when it's D&D."

Steve finally hands it over. "Fine. Yes, it's a character sheet. Dustin's birthday is next Monday, and I was gonna ask you if I could join your game as a present to him."

Eddie nods, inspecting the sheet. Dustin's been begging for Steve to join basically since they started their little arrangement, where Eddie DM's for them in exchange for no more open hostility in the dorms. It may have worked a little too well, given Eddie's budding crush, but c'est la vie.

Eddie hands it back. "You are supposed to give the DM the character sheet a couple days in advance so they have time to work you into the plot."

Steve winces. "Really? Shit, I didn't know that."

"It's fine, I got some ideas, just from looking it over. You can borrow a spare set of dice and one of my miniatures too."

"Oh good, I had no idea if I needed any of that stuff."

"Do you want me to do a little crash course for you?" Eddie asks, preparing to brave the cold to grab his little homemade handbook.

Steve gives him a deadpan look. "Are you kidding me? Dustin is gonna love being better than me at this. I might as well go in with a regular six-sided die and pretend I thought that's the one I needed."

Eddie laughs. "Fair enough." The cold touches his neck and he burrows back into his blankets. "This fucking sucks, by the way. The cold."

"You're a big baby, man. It's fine."

"Ah, yes. Forgot I live with a walking, talking furnace." Eddie rolls his eyes, muttering, "This is worse than the time I was left outside in the cold."

"Wait, what?" Steve turns to him, eyes flinty like steel. "You were...what?"

"Oh. Um." Eddie's not sure how much to reveal, but he figures it had to come out eventually. "My dad left me out in the cold when I was thirteen. I think he thought it'd fix me. I just got really sick, though." He laughs humorlessly.

"You said...fix you?" Steve says, and Eddie's heart drops. He backs away from Steve before starting to talk, trying to find something to defend himself with if Steve gets mad.

"Yeah." Eddie says. "He saw me...kissing a boy."

Steve's eyes widen, and then he scoots closer. Eddie's breath hitches.

"Me too." Steve whispers.

Now it's Eddie's turn to be shocked. Steve continues. "Not...not left outside in the cold. They'd need to be home long enough for that. But...bisexual. I like girls and guys."

There's a tense, charged silence in the room. Eddie draws up all his courage. "I like you, Steve."

Steve stares at Eddie’s lips. “Can I-” he whispers breathlessly.

Eddie, seemingly just as entranced, nods, and Steve leans forward, pressing his lips against Eddie. Almost unconsciously, Eddie tilts his head, deepening the kiss, and Steve hums happily. 

Eddie’s tongue swipes at the sealed lines of Steve’s lips. Steve freezes, then slowly, tentatively, opens his mouth. 

Give him an inch and he’ll take a mile. Eddie practically pulls Steve down towards him, hands greedily exploring every inch of Steve he could reach. Steve gladly returns the favor, sneaking his hands between Eddie’s back and the mattress so he can feel the muscles lining Eddie’s spine flex and move as Eddie kisses him stupid. 

Eddie pulls back, breaking the kiss. Steve whines, actually whines, and dives back in, but Eddie stops him with a gentle hand on his chest. 

He kisses the corner of Steve’s mouth, and Steve chases it, leaning subtly towards Eddie, but Eddie just keeps moving, kissing a trail from his mouth to his chin, to the soft skin where Steve's jawline blends into his neck. Steve keeps moving, running his hands up and down Eddie’s back just for something to do. 

Eddie reaches the small curve where his shoulder meets his neck, and Steve feels a small scrape of teeth against his skin. He whimpers. 

“Oh?” Eddie says, the first thing he’s said since Steve leaned in. His voice is raspy, and Steve privately thinks it's the hottest fucking thing in the world. “There?” 

He kisses there again, but this time there's no teeth, and Steve stays quiet, breathing slowly, in and out, in and out. 

“Or…did you like it when I did this?” 

Eddie leans forward and nips at Steve’s collar, and Steve keens. “Eddieee…” he says, dragging the vowels out too long, leaving that name hanging in the air.

Eddie tilts his head back up and captures Steve’s lips in another kiss, tongue sliding into Steve’s mouth smoothly. He kisses for a few seconds, then readjusts and gently nips at Steve’s lower lip. 

“Please, please Eddie,” Steve begs breathlessly, not even sure what he's pleading for. Eddie seems to get it though, and slides his hands under his shirt to cup Steve’s waist.

Steve laces his hands through Eddie's hair and pulls, and Eddie lets out a moan, pushing Steve off of him and rolling so he's on top, enjoying the feeling of Steve under him on the mattress.

"I've never been so glad for the cold," he whispers against Steve's lips, and kisses him again.

[hotwings0203]

Needed to get possessive alpha bakugo off my chest, ill prolly write a sequel to this tmrw cuz i got some ideas

Tw: noncon, omegaverse

thinking about childhood possessive bakugo who's pined for his omega since she joined the pack Time after time again since you were kids he'd always tried to get close to you, using a number of strange to threatening courting techniques. It was benign at first when you both were young, with him jumping up the large apple tree to get you the juiciest fruit you could never seem to reach, but when you two grew older and played together with the rest of the pack, his efforts seemed more...possessive.

He'd always single you out and force you to be on his team, following up with growling at you whenever you'd run more than a few paces in front of away from him. His sleek gold and black coat would brush up against you constantly, as if only touching you would satiate his desire for your proximity. Bloodred eyes would glare at you when you'd shyly back away at dinnertime, opting to sit away from his intense gaze.

Not like he'd let you get that far.

When it would come time for bathing with your sisters, somehow, everytime you'd be out of the loop and would end up being forced to wash yourself on your own in the cold water.

Little did you know your sisters were not-so-kindly encouraged to not communicate their congregation to you by a certain fiery alpha.

And so when everyone was by the fire, barking out laughter and telling stories of their weekly hunt, you'd sulk to the riverside by yourself, clutching your towel over your shivering body as youd sink closer in the shallow water.

You wanted to get it done as fast as possible so you could join your pack in merry-making, haphazardly scraping dirt off your paws and washing the crevices between your ears.

But as soon as you take a step towards the lush bank, you hear a heavy splash behind you.

You whip around, ears drawn back immeditaley after seeing the alpha who shamelessly follows you around like he's already claimed you.

"W-whatre you doing here? Everyone's by the..fire..." you trail off unsurely as his spiked-up wet mane shakes in laughter. His lack of concern for the reprimands he'll undoubtedly recieve for being this physically close to you send faint warning alarms at the back of your head. Usually he glowers at you and turns tail, but this is new.

"I thought the pack leaders told you to leave me alone," your lip wobbles as your tone borders on fear and indignation. Your brothers had always kept you safe from him, snarling and hiding you behind their tall legs whenever he was around. Bakugo never seemed to give up though, his own flashing teeth and sick grin mirroring their own worry pulled back from their lips.

"Yeah? But you're here though."

You swallow hard and hope he doesn't hear your whimper as you splash backwards towards the bank, but his low grumble of pleasure upon smelling your sweet fear-omones says otherwise. It proves to him that you're not as immune as your other brothers swear you are to protect yourself against him, theyre actually worried for a reason.

They know you'd never stand a chance against him.

And his muscles do ripple amid the water as he steadily stalks towards you, leering as he licks his canines and trains his eyes on your feeble form.

It seems like as fast as you flail backwards towards unseen safety, he advances twice as fast, and within seconds your back hits a hard and scratchy surface.

Bakugo chuckles a humorless laugh as you've nestled yourself in a nice, private corner away from the mainland where everyone can see you. You've backed both of you into an enormous concaved treetrunk, one that circles around 10ft and only one opening...

which you've trapped yourself in.

The roots of various plants that have grown inside this hollowed out trunk provide little cushion as you whimper and try to desperatley climb the walls.

"When are you gonna give up?"

His voice is low, raspy with mixed want and bitterness.

"S-stop, stay away from me or I'll call for h-"

"When are you gonna realize you can't escape me?" He harshly whispers right at your ear as he lunges toward you, causing you to squeal with terror.

He nips your soft ear and inhales your neck, craning his own to get a good look at the sensitive unclaimed part of your neck.

His hands grip your sides and mold the squishy parts as though they were dough, his greediness increasing exponentially as he lowers his drooling mouth to your ear and laves his wet tongue over the planes of your neck and shoulder.

You begin to shake and sob, never having been dealt with him actually touching you and being a victim to his lust. You've taken the protection of your brothers for granted, and oh how you wish you could softly howl out if you had the courage to ask for help.

But the blonde's presence itself is enough of a threat to your life and safety, that much being made clear as his hands grow claws, no doubt his physical appearance shifting from being so riled up. Your skin prick and cuts as his nails jab harder into you, his hands roaming up and down your back, feeling your hips and ghosting over the swell of your ass as well as chest.

You writhe against him which unbeknownst to you, pushes your naked chest out against his own shredded pecs, your pebbled nipples grazing his toned skin and practically making his eyes roll back in efforts not to pin you down and take you like his bitch.

"I just wanted to wash," your voice comes out pleading, and meek. You have no idea how he'll react to you being aggressive and defensive against his assault even if you had the courage to speak out against him.

"And I want to claim you as my omega," he growls directly in your ear, causing you to whine again and cower your head beneath his hounding mouth. "But I guess we'll both have to wait for what we want, huh?"

He knows you know.

You have to know.

Have to have known how badly he wants you, wants to hear your voice ring high with laughter like you do teasing your sisters, wants to hear your playful growls as you wrestle with your brothers who let you win just to see you swish your tail with prowess. He wants to feel you rest your head on his chest, wants to see you look up at him with security and ease, knowing that he's there to protect and love you.

But how can he explain that, with years of nothing but threatening looks and yards of distance between you two?

If it brings you familiarity and perhaps ease of seeing him as you've always thought to have known him, as a brute with nothing on his mind apart from taking you like an animal and conquering you, then he'll save the monologuing for later.

"After all," he heaves in the darkness of the seclusion, voicing his thoughts, "your birthday's coming up, right? You'll be of age to be claimed."

He thrusts his knee in between your trembling legs, pushing your shoulders down while following with his head and never letting his mouth rise above your unclaimed mark. You gasp as he begins grinding his knee in circles against your hooded clit, bouncing you lightly to evoke whatever sweet noises he can from your pursed lips.

You choke and sputter, suddenly grasping around his neck for leverage as you try to pull yourself up, but you're no match for him as it only serves to prove his point and enrage him from your constant rejection.

You can lie to him all you want, but your body never will.

"And trust me, little girl, when that cunt ripens for me to take, when that neck fucking sings for me to lay my mark-"

Your voice cracks into a howl as he takes one of his hands and squeezes the fat of your tit while the other spanks your jiggling ass on his knee, feeling whiplash from the onslaught of sensations.

"-I can promise you, there's no running. There's no cowering behind your brother's legs like some fucking baby, there's no using your sisters as an excuse to turn your face away from me."

Bakugo presses you tight against the wall, smothering you chest-to-chest with him and using the confined space to rut his naked erection against your thigh, his hips snapping forward and chasing years of needed release in your presence.

"I'll tie you down on my bed, face down ass-up and breed you as my bitch. I'll take you bent over and wrapped around me against every surface and floor of our secluded cave."

You blubber as you can feel yourself coming to a high, the water splashing obnoxiously at your humping against each other. In an effort to keep your pride, you try as hard as you can to grit your teeth and delay your orgasm, but he seems to catch on pretty quick.

"And then," he drops your tit and uses both hands to pry your asscheeks apart, impaling you impossibly closer down on the hard bone of his knee, your clit grating deliciously as his leg vibrates and flexes from moving you back and forth, up and down, any direction he can get your teeth to latch onto your lip and pussy clench on nothing.

"Then, you won't have to hide that pretty voice anymore. I'll get those years of silence back in exchange for your screams for help."

At this, he hugs you flush against the wall and himself as you shake from your orgasm, the water rippling at your reaction.

"So if I were you, I'd be grateful for any solitude from now on. Because you won't be getting it anymore."

[cy-lindric]

bonjour cy-lindric, j'ai une petite question. when I was a young person, I read The Three Musketeers and then eagerly started to read Twenty Years After and was so upset at what had happened to my beloved young heroes that I put the book down and never picked it up. what do you think, should I try again?

Bonjour !

After reading The Three Musketeers, I also wasn't sure I wanted to read Twenty Years After, and I took a break inbetween both to read something entirely different (The Locked Tomb, iirc). I think my reason for that was kind of the opposite of yours ; I enjoyed T3M a lot and loved the characters, flaws and all, but by the end they had somewhat crossed over the line into being Too Awful and the lack of retribution left me a bit frustrated. I didn't see it as a failing of the story - on the contrary, their strong character flaws and downfall in the conflict with Milady is one of the most emotionally intense and compelling parts imo - but I wasn't sure I felt like hanging out with these guys for a few hundred more pages at that point.

If your vision of the characters as a young reader was a very positive and perhaps idealized one, I can imagine why you might not have enjoyed entering into Twenty Years after. The illusion of glory has worn off ; the characters have separated, they live unremarkable lives, and their personalities have evolved drastically with the passing of time. It's almost a brutal return to reality.

For me though, it added layers of characterization to the point where now it's clear to me that this version of the Inseparables is by far the one I prefer.

I hope it's ok if I take the opportunity to talk at length about what I like about TYA below the cut. TL;DR : I love that Twenty Years After is a more realistic look at the big four's personalities and how they evolved while still keeping them thematically coherent, and that TYA makes them confront the reckless and cruel shit they did in their youth.

Spoilers ahead obviously.

We've often talked about how T3M is at its core a story about the end of knighthood. It's a tongue-in-cheek approach at chivalrous initiation, set at edge of the modern world, inbetween the time of ballads about knights in armor and that of adventures about journeying gunmen and soldiers. I think TYA embodies that particularly ; the story of people who have carried the last of these intense, dangerous chivalric ideals in their youths, and who have now grown into middle aged adults who need to find their place in the world.

For a good chunk of the book, the big four are separated into two teams ; that in of itself might discourage some, but imo it's genius. Instead of the natural two-by-pairings, Dumas goes for a d'Artagnan+ Porthos and Athos + Aramis split on opposite sides, which makes for good drama and develops lesser explored dynamics. D'Artagnan and Porthos form a scrappy team of opportunists with money on their minds, and Athos and Aramis a more idealistic duo fighting for a noble lost cause. I think it's a bold choice but also premium sequel writing.

I also love the way the young and wild characters we knew evolve into middle aged men ; at their core, they're still the same, but they've all changed and struggled against the sunset of the golden age in their own ways.

D'Artagnan, after knowing such adventures and subsequent rapid social ascension in his teenage years, has been met in his adult life with the harsh reality that he is, in fact, not a noble knight but a soldier on payroll. His modest origins give him little hope for any further career advancement, and he takes on a new mission in his early 40s for a man he has no devotion for and a cause he doesn't care about, simply because he is bored and broke. D'Artagnan still has his quick wits, his strategic talent, his fencing skills, but he has grown out of the excesses of pride of his teenage years. I loved meeting him again in TYA, and it made so much sense to me that his bouts of anger and aggressivity would be a youthful trait that he'd ended up taming. He also realizes now a lot of what seemed like funny adventures and necessary violence was actually kind of fucked up ; that was a shock to me, as their shenanigans are treated so lightly in T3M, and tbh it healed me a little. Grown up d'Artagnan is cunning, calculating, down to earth and realistic. My foxy little man. I love him.

Porthos, likewise, has been struck by the weight of reality. He has made the sensible choice and got married to the rich widow who sugar mommied him in the first book. Now she's passed, he is rich, but he still fails to earn the respect of the high society he evolves in because he's not high born enough. Like d'Artagnan, he's stagnating and bored and now that he goes back adventuring it has nothing to do with the queen or the kingdom or honour ; it's about getting his damn nobility title.

Athos, on the other hand, is the eternal knight : the only truly high born of the four, and still hopelessly holding on to a time gone by. It's no surprise imo that his storyline brings him into the english civil war, doomed to fail at saving a king who'll end up executed right in front of him. TYA acknowledges more clearly than ever that at 28 yo, Athos was a depressed alcoholic, and an embodiment of what an excess of aristocratic righteousness can do. In TYA, he is sober and moisturized and a DILF, and now he's running around frantically looking for absolution for his numerous crimes. It's delicious.

Aramis is maybe the hardest pill to swallow. TYA confirms the T3M hints that he isn't really the prim and proper romantic boy he acts like he is, and that he's possibly the most hypocritical and ruthless of the four. It might be a harsh one for Aramis fans who like him better as a cute bean, but I love the early onset of remorseless conniving bloodthirsty ambitious Aramis. Another harsh bit might be the evolution of Aramis and d'Artagnan not really liking each other ; they were always the least close combination, and imo it makes sense that their personalities would clash. I think it's clever and compelling conflict.

Now, obviously, if you've cared enough to read all this and if you know me a little, you know that a huge highlight of the book for me was its late-appearing antagonist, Mordaunt. Mordaunt is the son Milady had with her english husband. Because of the Musketeers' intervention, he's grown up in poverty and has been denied his father's inheritance. He's now a Roundhead working for Cromwell, and set on avenging his mother at all costs. Mordaunt, unlike his mother who was this beautiful and dangerous force of nature, is very uncool and pathetic. She was the primordial snake, he's the gutter rat. Obviously, I love that in and of itself, but it's also kind of striking image of the wretchedness of what they've done to her, a fucked up little goblin ghost come back to haunt them as they're trying to make their life worth living again. This time, their enemy is not a cunning political rival with a flamboyance of body and mind akin to their own ; it's a shitty little guy with bad skin who wants to kill the king and punish the murderers. Watch out babes, it's the modern world coming for you.

Of course, they're the Four Musketeers, and they did what they had to do, so they get together again and swear friendship and keep going their way. But they're also old guys with difficult personalities in a world that's never going to be the same. I think it's a cool book.

[angsthology]

THE KANGAROO(KIE) VS. THE WORLD

the misadventures of being the only female f1 driver through the eyes of the grid’s renowned snoopy-loving kangaroo

mostly thank u to @sebscore and @disneyprincemuke for the idea of fem!driver on the grid (i love both of them by them please check it out)

anyway! these are mostly from random spurts of thought i have along with memories of my toddler self who wanted to be race car driver! (did not in fact become one btw. im somehow becoming a law student instead). i also try to not use any y/n (which so far i have succeeded in, hopefully, hehe) and psa, she is often implied as a non-european. (well more on how i write her cause i write what i know)

also, apologies in advance, this is going to have a LOT of projecting <3

talk to meee!!1! (or maybe request just whatever)

tag << everything rvstw (asks, brainrots, & more!!)

ABOUT THE DRIVER

☆ introduction

a little intro into our driver and the likes of her (hcs)

☆ re-intro

idk car stuff and some designs

☆ more

just random stuff about her

☆ behind the driver

behind every little gremlin is a group of tired adults

ROOKIE ERA (2022)

☆ the origin story

the journey of when what and whys of our driver

☆ the kangaroo!

the story of how she got the nickname “roo”

☆ the gig

she’s... in a band?

☆ the presence

roo has been acting a little too quiet and when the drivers take notice of it they had to ask

☆ the figure

it started as an accident, ended with family

☆ the dye

who told him this was a good idea?

☆ the m problem

so... we need to talk about roo?

OH, WELL, THE MORE YOU KNOW! (2023)

☆ the rise

lets get the year started, yeah?

☆ the button (–2024)

it went from that to this

NEW YEAR, NEW ME (2024)

☆ the shoot

welcome to 2024! who is this person...

☆ the streak

she is posessed by the demon (her real self)

HOLIDAY HURRAHS (from summer break to winter breaks)

☆ secret santa

the process of how the 2023 secret santa went

☆ beach day

spending the day at the beach with a large group of f1 drivers may seem like a good idea until you remember some of them are literal children

☆ beach day the sequel

the consequences of your actions and some more actions

PADDOCK ENCOUNTERS (misc & shorts)

☆ chilli-pepper

☆ sold

☆ teenagers and baseball gears

☆ roo vs. the cameraman

BEST OF ROO (the compilations)

☆ radio

☆ incorrect

SOCIAL MEDIA POSTS

☆ after the gig

☆ what’s your roman empire?

☆ there’s another side that you don’t know

☆ new year, new name, and a vacation dump

☆ into outer space

[bridenore]

HD eight year fic recs : 50k+ words

Here are a few drarry eight year fic recs that are between 30k and 50k words. Posted in alphabetical order, as always.

You can access my rec lists for eight year fics that have less than 10k words here, between 10k and 20k here, between 20k and 30k here and between 30k and 50k here.

Arms Wide Open: Hogwarts by Sita_Z [28k]

Harry did not expect his Eighth Year to involve any more investigations of abandoned bathrooms. Nor did he expect to come across Draco Malfoy there, alone, bleeding and in late-stage labor. Arms Wide Open: Grimmauld Place by Sita_Z [36k] After leaving Hogwarts, Harry and Draco face an uncertain future, raising Scorpius and dealing with the wizarding world’s reaction to their situation. Sequel to Arms Wide Open: Hogwarts.

At Your Service by @faith2wood [95k]

Hogwarts students are in danger; Harry is determined to save them all. There’s only one thing he knows for certain: Draco Malfoy is somehow involved.

Azoth by @lol-zeitgeistic [88k]

Now that Harry is back at Hogwarts with Hermione for eighth year, he realises that something’s missing from his life, and it either has to do with Ron, his boggart, Snape, or Malfoy. Furthermore, what, exactly, does it mean when one’s life is defined by the desire to simultaneously impress and annoy a portrait? Harry has no idea; he’s too busy trying not to be in love with Malfoy to care.

Beholden by @faith2wood [123k]

Draco Malfoy might not be a killer, but it turns out he's an effective painkiller. If stopping pain was all Draco's touch did, things might not be so complicated, but either way Harry can't afford to be choosy.

The Changing Lights by lazywonderland [142k]

Harry returns for an eighth year following the end of the war and realises that although he's put his own animosity towards Malfoy aside, no one else seems to have done the same. When a hex leaves his oldest rival in the body of a female and ridicule doubles, Harry discovers that his hero complex is a difficult thing to fight.

Exceeds Eggspectations by Elle Gray (LGray) [61k]

Eighth year. Winter. Christmas has been and gone. Harry’s just been dumped and so has Malfoy. There’s a stupid fake baby assignment to be done, and what’s the harm in doing it together, really, when life is this shit already? This is not slow burn, this is a roman candle pointed at a pile of dry twigs that represent your heart.

Firebond by Oakstone730 / @i-didnt-wanna-do-it​ [94k]

Draco is forced to tutor Harry in potions. A slight problem occurs.

Golden Age by @lol-zeitgeistic [52k]

The Celtic druids once made a decision that kept magic in abundance in Britannia, but they couldn’t account for the technological advances Muggles would make centuries later. Now magic is dying on the isles, and this is not a dark lord that Harry can fight. OR: Harry Potter doesn’t save the world this time, but he does get a lot of hugs.

Graceless Heart by shushu_yaoi_lj / @orange-peony​ [132k]

Harry is lost and broken after the war. He has gone to countless funerals, broken up with Ginny, moved back into Grimmauld Place—which feels darker and dirtier than ever before despite how much he tries to fix it. He feels lonely and desperate, but he won’t ask for help, and he still can’t cry. When he agreed to help the Aurors at Malfoy Manor over the summer, he thought that he would be breaking dark curses. Harry never thought that he would actually spend his days sorting out dusty books with Draco Malfoy, or teaching him how to cook. Little by little, as they begin to navigate their life post-war, Harry and Draco become intimate…in more ways than Harry could have ever expected.

Helix by Saras_Girl [92k]

Seven months after the end of the war, Harry is feeling lost. Fortunately, he is about to be offered an unexpected and sparkling chance to find himself again. [2014 advent fic]

It’s No Great Mystery by @agentmoppet​ [57k]

Who on earth decided that bringing back the Yule Ball for their eighth year would be a good idea? It feels like the worst day of Harry’s life, watching everyone get glammed up like the war never happened, like the last Triwizard Tournament wasn’t such a colossal failure. And then it happens again. And again. And again.

Manticoria by @lol-zeitgeistic [70k]

In the dangerous days after Voldemort’s fall, Harry struggles to find a way to be with Draco—again. But as the magical world threatens to die all around them, it might be more difficult than he thought. Includes dying wards, dying beasts, and love struggling to live; sentient magic, wandlore, Founder lore, potion lore, and ward lore; and of course there is Zacharias Smith to ruin everything, as usual.

Mental by sara_holmes [156k]

Harry has had quite enough of sharing his mind with someone else, thankyouverymuch. A miscast Legilimecy spell says otherwise.

My Little Berserker by @aelys-althea  [105k]

Eighth year was supposed to be calm. Moderated. Peaceful, even. Draco returned to escape the chaos wrought upon his shambles of a life and Harry to flee the responsibility of a world that sees him as something greater than was truly possible. Hogwarts was a safe haven, right? At least it was until Hagrid comes up with the wonderful idea to introduce some additional members to the student body of the fluffier variety. Hagrid doesn’t do moderated - where’s the fun in that?

The Nightmare Club by Elle Gray [85k]

Hermione and Ron are going back to Hogwarts to do N.E.W.T.s, Ginny isn’t. Harry hasn’t decided, until he has, in front of the Wizengamot and now he’s responsible for Malfoy as well. A tale of enemies who learn to get along, get it wrong and get it on. Everything is purple, some things are on fire and no-one is sleeping properly. But don’t worry, there’s tea!

Not in the Hands of Boys by @fourth-rose [130k] *incomplete

Once the final battle is won, life must go on, although it can be even harder to master than death. Back at Hogwarts for his final year of school, Harry tries to cope with everything he's been through. As the world around him struggles for a way back to normality, he is forced to realise that in the long run, living takes a lot more courage than dying.

Objects of Desire by Azrael Geffen [400k+]

The dream team sign a magical contract promising to lose their virginities within the year, they soon fix on the objects of their desires, but will the bitterness left in the wake of the war prove too hurtful for love to exist?

Ocean of Storms by Bounding-Heart [113k]

The war is over and Harry has returned to help rebuild Hogwarts. He longs to move forwards, but the past refuses to let him go. The castle is full of ghosts: haunting nightmares, the deaths he couldn’t prevent, and the age-old rivalry that Draco Malfoy seems determined to maintain.

Owl Was Well by @fencer-x [66k]

Draco Malfoy is not an owl, really he isn’t. He simply assumes the shape of one on occasion when he wants to find a bit of privacy—a goal entirely thwarted because Harry Potter doesn’t understand you can’t just grab any old bird from the Owlery and force it to send your missives and deliver your packages.

The Promise of Summer by Omi_Ohmy [66k]

How was Harry supposed to know that coming back for eighth year would be so confusing? Everything is the same, and yet not the same. And nowhere is this more obvious than with Draco Malfoy. Harry finds himself once more watching and following Malfoy, trying to work him out. When they are drawn together to heal the castle, Harry doesn’t just find Malfoy - he also finds himself.

red and green are complimentary colours by  ace_0fhearts [88k]

After the war Hermione manages to convince Harry to go back to Hogwarts for his eighth year. Expecting an uneventful year of classes and rooming with the other Gryffindor boys, he’s surprised when McGonagall tells him he’ll be sharing a room with Draco Malfoy. Now Harry has to get through a year of arguments and awkward silences. Or he would, if Malfoy would stop ignoring him and moping around the castle alone. Or: Draco and Harry fall in love through sleepless nights and late night quidditch games

Reparo by amalin [84k]

Voldemort’s final defeat does not mean Harry Potter’s troubles are over; far from it. In the aftermath of war, he returns to a Hogwarts that is fractured and divided, but this is no break that can be fixed with a spell. New owls, fading scars, surprising alliances—and along the way, the hardest task of all, to live with it. 

Right Hand Red by @lqtraintracks [73k] 

Harry felt Malfoy’s breath on his lips as they came together over the bottle, hands firmly planted on the floor as though they each needed their familiar soil, refusing to cross into enemy territory. Except that Malfoy no longer felt like his enemy. Malfoy felt inevitable.

The Silent World Within You by @femmequixotic and @noeeon [95k]

Harry only wanted Malfoy for one night, one birthday. It wasn’t meant to be anything more.

spins madly on by asofthaven [56k]

As part of his probation, Draco Malfoy returns to Hogwarts to complete his N.E.W.T.s. Gobstones, the political machinations of the Hogwarts student body, and one Harry James Potter captures Draco’s attention instead.

Things Worth Knowing by @femmequixotic and @noeeon [164k]

After the Battle, Harry thinks he’s left Hogwarts for good, but Minerva insists that all students return for an Eighth Year if they wish to sit for NEWTs in the spring, and Harry needs those NEWTs to go into the Aurors. Draco’s just grateful not to be in Azkaban. Or the Manor. He’s hoping he can steer clear of Potter this year and grapple with his own problems. Unfortunately for him, Potter appears to be one of those problems. And that’s not even addressing the fact that Potter’s got serious issues of his own, which Draco realises as he’s forced to share an Eighth Year dormitory room and several classes with the Gryffindor Git. If only they can make it through the year without killing each other, it should be all right, shouldn’t it?

Written on the Heart by who_la_hoop [113k] 

Harry doesn’t mind that so many Slytherins from his year have returned to finish their NEWTs, really he doesn’t. It’s just – do they have to be so friendly? He’s not prejudiced, really he’s not. It’s just – they’ve got to be up to something, right? Unnerved by the attention he’s attracting from everyone – the Slytherins are the least of it, to be fair – and struggling with a raft of changes to Hogwarts itself, Harry wishes he could be happy that one constant remains: Draco Malfoy really fucking hates him. When he’s hit by an illegal love-spell though, Harry finds he has more to worry about than whether or not Blaise Zabini actually wants to be his friend. For if everyone affected has been blessed – or cursed, by the look on Malfoy’s face – with a magical tattoo revealing the name of their soulmate, what does it mean that Harry’s skin remains completely bare?

You’ve Got Owl Post by @slyth-princess [50k]

After discovering muggle romantic comedies during winter break, Pansy Parkinson and Luna Lovegood decide to launch an ambitious project called You’ve Got Owl Post which matches up students through an enchanted notebook so they can send letters to each other without knowing who is at the other end. It is an instant hit. Harry, without his friends knowing, is one of the first to join. And he rapidly finds a kindred soul on the other side of the pages. In real life, however, he is once again plagued by Draco Malfoy. After fighting in class, McGonagall has had enough. So, as punishment and a lesson, she assigns them the running of that years dueling club. Everyone, including Harry and Draco, assumes it will be a disaster. However, sometimes the people you think you know the best are the ones who can surprise you the most. A story of letters, bets, friendship, love, forgiveness, and discovering who you really are.

I hope you enjoy these stories as much as I did!

[physalian]

“How do I know if my story needs work or if I’m just being hard on myself?”

As I sit here accepting the fact that at 70k words into Eternal Night’s sequel while waiting for my editor for Eternal Night itself, that I have made an error in my plot.

Disclaimer: This is not universal and the writing experience is incredibly diverse. Figuring this out also takes some time and building up your self-confidence as an author so you can learn to separate “this is awful (when it’s not)” and “this is ok (but it can be better)” and “this isn’t working (but it is salvageable).”

—

When I wrote my first novel (unpublished, sadly), years ago, I would receive feedback all over the chapters and physically have to open other windows to block off parts of the screen on my laptop to slow-drip the feedback because I couldn’t handle constructive criticism all at once. I had my betas color-code their commentary so I could see before I read any of it that it wasn’t all negative. It took me thrice as long as it does today to get through a beta’s feedback because I got so nervous and anxious about what they would say.

The main thing I learned was this: They’re usually right, when it’s not just being mean (and even then, it’s rarely flat out mean), and that whatever criticisms they have of my characters and plot choices is not criticism of myself.

It did take time.

But now I can get feedback from betas and even when I hear “I’d DNF this shit right now unless you delete this,” I take a step back, examine if this one little detail is really that important, and fix it. No emotional turmoil and panic attack needed. I can also hear “I didn’t like it” without heartbreak. Can’t please everyone.

The only time I freak out is when I'm told "this won't need massive edits" followed up by, in the manuscript, "I'd DNF this shit right now". Which happened. And did not, in fact, require a massive rewrite to fix.

So.

What might be some issues with your story and why it “isn’t working”.

1. Your protagonist is not active enough in the story

You’ve picked your protagonist, but it’s every other character that has more to do, more to say, more choices to make, and they’re just along for the ride, yet you are now anchored to this character’s story because they’re the protagonist. You can either swap focus characters, or rework your story to give them more agency. Figure out why this character, above any other, is your hero.

2. Your pacing is too slow

Even if you have a “lazy river” style story where the vibes and marinating in the world is more important than a breakneck plot, slow pacing isn’t just “how fast the story moves” it’s “how clearly is the story told,” meaning if you divert the story to a side quest, or spend too long on something that sure is fluffy or romantic or funny, but it adds nothing to the characters because it’s redundant, doesn’t advance the plot, doesn’t give us more about the world that actually matters to the themes, then you may have lost focus of the story and should consider deleting it, or editing important elements into the scenes so they can pull double-duty and serve a more active purpose.

3. You’ve lost the main argument of your narrative

Sometimes even the best of outlines and the clearest plans derail. Characters don’t cooperate and while we see where it goes, we end up getting hung up on how this one really cool scene or argument or one-liner just has to be in the story, without realizing that doing so sacrifices what you set out to accomplish. Personally I think sticking to your outline with biblical determination doesn’t allow for new ideas during the writing process, but if you find yourself down the line of “how did we get here, this isn’t what I wanted” you can always save the scenes in another document to reuse later, in this WIP or another in the future.

4. You’re spending too long on one element

Even if the thing started out really cool, whether it’s a rich fantasy pit stop for your characters or a conversation two characters must have, sometimes scenes and ideas extend long past their prime. You might have characters stuck in one location for 2 or 3 chapters longer than necessary trying to make it perfect or stuff in all these details or make it overcomplicated, when the rest of the story sits impatiently on the sidelines for them to move on. Figure out the most important reasons for this element to exist, take a step back, and whittle away until the fat is cut.

5. You’ve given a side character too much screentime

New characters are fun and exciting! But they can take over the story when they’re not meant to, robbing agency from your core characters to leave them sitting with nothing to do while the new guy handles everything. You might end up having to drag your core characters along behind them, tossing them lines of dialogue and side tasks to do because you ran out of plot to delegate with one character hogging it all (which is the issue I ran into with the above mentioned WIP). Not talking about a new villain or a new love interest, I mean a supporting character who is supposed to support the main characters.

—

As for figuring out the difference between “this is awful and I’m a bad writer” and “this element isn’t working” try pretending the book was written by somebody else and you’re giving them constructive criticism.

If you can come up with a reason for why it’s not working that doesn’t insult the writer, it’s probably the latter. As in, “This element isn’t working… because it’s gone on too long and the conversation has become cyclical and tiring.” Not “this element isn’t working because it’s bad.”

Why is it bad?

“This conversation is awkward because…. There’s not enough movement between characters and the dialogue is really stiff.”

“This fight scene is bad because….I don’t have enough dynamic action, enough juicy verbs, or full use of the stage I’ve set.”

“This romantic scene is bad because…. It’s taking place at the wrong time in the story. I want to keep it, but this character isn’t ready for it yet, and the vibe is all wrong now because they’re out-of-character.”

“This argument is bad because…. It didn’t have proper build-up and the sudden shouting match is not reflective of their characters. They’re too angry, and it got out of hand quickly. Or I’m not conveying the root of their aggression.”

—

There aren’t very many bad ideas, just bad execution. “Only rational people can think they’re crazy. Crazy people think they’re sane,” applies to writing, too.

I just read a fanfic recently where, for every fight scene, I could tell action was not the writer’s strong suit. They leaned really heavily on a crutch of specific injuries for their characters, the same unusual spot getting hit over and over again, and fights that dragged on for too long being unintentionally stagnant. The rest of the fic was great, though, and while the fights weren’t the best, I understood that the author was trying, and I kept reading for the good stuff. One day they will be better.

In my experience beta reading, it’s the cocky authors who send me an unedited manuscript and tell me to be kind (because they can’t take criticism), that they know it’s perfect they just want an outside opinion (they don’t want the truth, they want what will make them feel good), that they know it’s going to make them a lot of money and everyone will love it (they haven’t dedicated proper time and effort into researching marketing, target audiences, or current trends)—these are the truly bad authors. Not just bad at writing, but bad at taking feedback, are bullies when you point out flaws in their story, and cheap, too.

The best story I have received to date was where the author didn’t preempt with a self-deprecating deluge of “it’s probably terrible you know but here it is anyway” or “this is perfect and I’m super confident you’re going to love it”.

It was something like, “This is my first book and I know it has flaws and I’m nervous but I had a lot of fun doing it”.

And yeah, it needed work, but the bones of something great were there. So give yourself some credit, yeah?

[nanowrimo]

5 Essential Tips for Mastering Scene Writing in Your Novel

There's many parts involved when writing a scene. Knowing how these different pieces work together may help you move forward in your novel. NaNo Participant Amy de la Force offers some tips on brushing up your scene writing knowledge. Scenes are the building blocks of a novel, the stages where characters spring to life, conflicts brew and emotions run high. Mastering the art of scene writing is crucial for any aspiring writer, especially in the lead-up to NaNoWriMo. But what is a scene, and how do you effectively craft one? 

What is a Scene? 

A scene is a short period of time — in a set place — that moves the story forward with dramatic conflict that reveals character, generally through dialogue or action. Think of writing a scene as a mini-story with a beginning, middle and end, all contributing to the narrative. 

Why Scene Writing is Your Secret Weapon in Storytelling

Well-crafted scenes enhance your story to develop characters, advance the plot, and engage readers through tension and emotion. Whether you're writing a novel, short story or even non-fiction, scenes weave the threads of your story together.

Tip #1: Scenes vs. Sequels

According to university lecturer Dwight Swain in Techniques of the Selling Writer, narrative time can be broken down into not just scenes, but sequels. 

Scene

The 3 parts of a scene are:

Goal: The protagonist or point-of-view (POV) character’s objective at the start of the scene.

Conflict: For dramatic conflict, this is an equally strong combination of the character’s ‘want + obstacle’ to their goal. 

Disaster: When the obstacle wins, it forces the character’s hand to act, ratcheting up tension. 

Sequel 

Similarly, Swain’s sequels have 3 parts:

Reaction: This is the POV character’s emotional follow-up to the previous scene’s disaster. 

Dilemma: If the dramatic conflict is strong enough, each possible next step seems worse than anything the character has faced.  

Decision: The scene’s goal may still apply, but the choice of action to meet it will be difficult. 

Tip #2: Questions to Ask Yourself Before Writing a Scene

In Story Genius, story coach and ex–literary agent Lisa Cron lists 4 questions to guide you in scene writing:

What does my POV character go into the scene believing?

Why do they believe it?

What is my character’s goal in the scene?

What does my character expect will happen in this scene?

Tip #3: Writing Opening and Closing Scenes

Now that we know more about scene structure and character considerations, it’s time to open with a bang, or more to the point, a hook. Forget warming up and write a scene in the middle of the action or a conversation. Don’t forget to set the place and time with a vivid description or a little world-building. To end the scene, go for something that resolves the current tension, or a cliffhanger to make your scene or chapter ‘unputdownable’. 

Tip #4: Mastering Tension and Pacing 

A benefit to Swain’s scenes and sequels is that introspective sequels tend to balance the pace by slowing it, building tension. This pacing variation, which you can help by alternating dialogue with action or sentence lengths, offers readers the mental quiet space to rest and digest any action-packed scenes. 

Tip #5: Scene Writing for Emotional Impact

For writing a scene, the top tips from master editor Sol Stein in Stein on Writing are:

Fiction evokes emotion, so make a list of the emotion(s) you want readers to feel in your scenes and work to that list.

For editing, cut scenes that don’t serve a purpose (ideally, several purposes), or make you feel bored. If you are, your reader is too. 

Conclusion

From understanding the anatomy of a scene to writing your own, these tips will help elevate your scenes from good to unforgettable, so you can resonate with readers.

Amy de la Force is a YA and adult speculative fiction writer, alumna of Curtis Brown Creative's selective novel-writing program and Society of Authors member. The novel she’s querying longlisted for Voyage YA’s Spring First Chapters Contest in 2021. An Aussie expat, Amy lives in London. Check her out on Twitter, Bluesky, and on her website! Her books can be found on Amazon. Photo by cottonbro studio

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

In Abstract 1

A sequel no one asked for. First Series: Portrait of a Dangerous Man

Warnings: noncon/rape, some violence, blood, alluded murder (for now?), grief, confusing, criminal allusions, some untagged extreme events.

This is dark!mob!Clark Kent x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: You adjust to life with Clark, thought the past won't seem to let you go.

Character: mob!Clark Kent

Note: I don't know where this came from.

Thanks to everyone for reading and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :) I appreciate your comments and enthusiasm! Reblogs help and are like candy, so please, feed me.

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 As usual, I’d appreciate if you let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

A speck of red. A speck of red in a sea of blue. From the observer's eye, one would not notice. But the creator, the artist, the start error is obvious. No inadvertent, but entirely deliberate. A reminder of what it cost you.

You close your eyes and the fleck of blood sears in your mind. Like the site of your boyfriend gasping his last breaths. Ex, now. For a while. It feels like yesterday yet no time at all.

You shiver and hug yourself through the white cashmere. The sweater offers little warmth in the cold house. The glass doors look out onto the white lawn, a fresh dusting of snow trims the covered pool and blankets the landscape. It would be beautiful to any who did not know the sinister secrets of this place. The crimes witnessed by these walls alone.

You turn away from the portrait hung above the gaping fireplace. Even the crackling flames cannot warm you. There is no comfort in this house or the man who resides there. A warden, a maniac, a murderer.

You near the glass doors, eyes drawn to how the snow gathers in corners. The thin sheet of frost that cakes the panes and the fog of your breath as you stand close. The world outside is obscured by your own existence.

Silence. Stillness. Distance. Isolation. The vast grayness of your small world trapped behind a transparent wall. You touch the handle, feeling the cold metal, gripping it tight. A sudden urge to run out and dive into the heaps.

"Dinner tonight?" Clark's voice claps like thunder through the lull.

You gasp and recoil from the door. You turn to him, hugging yourself as much out of fright as the temperature. You step away from the door and your yearning for escape.

"Dinner," you repeat, your hollow voice echoing off the high ceilings.

"Yes, your mother is coming to town? We'll get her from the airport and take her to Elliston's?"

"Are you asking or telling?" You mutter as you drop your arms, tucking your hands up the cuffs.

You sweep away, crossing to the archway that opens into the spacious kitchen. You go to the counter and flip up the lid of the coffee machine. You focus on the rack of pods. It's habit more than anything, often you let your cup go cold, basking in the scent but too numb to taste it.

He follows. You sense him. Like you always do. Always hovering. Always watching.

"Don't be like this. You've been looking forward to her visit."

You grumble as you pick out the cinnamon cookie pod and shove it in the top. You shrug. Not really. You only ever play the part he wants. Move your brush to his whim, streak the paint by his word, lay on your back as he gets what he wants.

"And I have been too. I can't wait to meet your family. All of them."

Your chest winds tight. You can't tell if it's a threat or genuine. He is always hard to decipher. If you had ever been able to see through him, you wouldn't be standing there, trapped in his house, in his grip.

Five months. Five months in your cell. Five months with Marcus' blood on your soul. 

"I'll get a room ready," you put a mug under the spout and hit the brew button. 

He lurks closer. You stare and wait for the drip to begin. He puts his hands on your shoulders, the fabric turning course beneath the weight of his grasp.

"Nina's already working on it," he growls into your crown, "don't act so hard done by…"

"I'm not," the trickle spits out and hits the porcelain sharply.

"I give your more than he ever–"

You tear away from him, sliding along the counter as you spin to face him. He clucks and tilts his head, slowly pivoting towards you. The anger cordons in his cheek.

"I told you…"

He scoffs. "You're right, he was nothing. Not worth talking about. Sweetheart, it was always going to be me."

You clamp your lips shut as your eyes sting. He doesn't wake up every day in horror, he doesn't sink into sleep like a stone in mud, he doesn’t know what it is to live in black and white when the world used to be painted in a million colours.

"I'll confirm what time she gets in."

He sighs and crosses his arms. You look down at the white sweater and unroll the crumpled hem. You didn't wear cashmere before, no silk, no satin. Just cotton and tweed. Now you wear what he tells you to.

"Find something to wear for dinner," he demands, "and after."

He crosses the pristine tile and you look at him in the face, eyes glossy and pathetic. He kisses your forehead as his hand comes up to your chin, his thumb stroking your lips. He inhales your scent and lets out a growl.

"Wear the diamonds," he demands.

He lets you go and leaves you there. You watch after him as he stalks off, checking the time on his wristband. He clears his throat as he turns out of your sight. Your vision blurs to a muddy blur.

The coffee machine dings and brings you back. As much as you love your mother, how do you explain this to her? Lies are easier on the phone, but face to face, the truth is clear to see.

🎨

Your mother pulls you into a hug, her suitcase forgotten at her side. It's been almost a year since you last saw her. You and Marcus made a rare trip down for her birthday. As solitary as she prefers her life, she cherishes your rare company.

"Tweety bird, it's been so long," she hugs you, swaying you with her. She releases tou and holds you at arm's length, "don't you look like a dead mouse?"

"Ha, yeah, I was up late… painting," you smile thinly.

"Never change," she chides as you sense a shadow approach. Clark grabs the handle of her suitcase and rolls it towards him as he puts his hand on your back. "Oh, who… is this?"

"Clark," you try not to show your frustration. Your mother's always been a touch flightly, "I told you about him."

"Ah, yes, oh, that Marcus," she tuts and shakes her head, "couldn't believe it when you said he ran off but then again, I wasn't unhappy."

"Mom," you sniff.

"Well? He always left his dirty socks on the couch."

You bite the inside of your cheek. You'd rather not talk about him. You fear she'll see right through your story. Clark takes his hand off your back.

"Nice to meet you–" he begins.

"Don't be silly," she pulls him into a hug, an impressive feat as she is rail thin, "you must be the one saving my gal from heartbreak."

"Um, sure," he snorts, "you're Janine?"

"That's the one," she pulls back and fixes her wild waves, "I'm afraid she hasn't given me more than your name."

"She's been busy. Commissions and all," Clark puts on that perfect act. The gentleman with all the charm. The one you fell for. "We hope you're not too tired, I suggested a reservation for dinner…"

"Oh, yes, please, I'm starving. That airplane food is better avoided," she trills, "besides just ask Tweety, I'm mot much of a sleeper."

You shake your head in confirmation and she grins wider. Clark rolls her bag around and waves his arm ahead of him, "ladies."

"Oo, finally got yourself a gentleman."

"Mhmm," you hum as you start forward, "something like that."

🎨

You watch the wine flow into the glass, filling the belly with a rich burgundy colour. Your mother looks around emphatically as Clark gives a curt nod of dismissal to the server. You're left to peruse the menu.

“Wow, this is a fancy place,” your mom comments as she opens the leather folio containing the menu, “where was it Marc would take us? Denny’s?”

You give her a look. It’s strange, you’re mother was never one to turn her nose up at simplicity but there were some very specific sticking points when it came to your boyfriend. Ex. Or maybe money really does corrupt all.

The wine is stringent. You don’t like it. You take a hefty swig and set the stem down heavily. Clark gives you a look. Right, he has his curated image, you have to fit into that.

“So mom, how was your flight?”

“Ah, it’s fine. But I was sat next to this skinny fellow. So nervous. Jittered the whole way. I had to close the window because it made him sick. So I took a nap.”

“I hope you don’t mind shacking up with us. I thought of a hotel but we have more than enough room,” Clark suggests, “after a long day, I’m sure you’d like to just relax.”

“With us? You live together?” Your mom raises her brows.

“You knew this. Remember?”

“No, you said you moved out of your apartment, I don’t remember a where or with who. This is moving fast,” she says, “definitely not a rebound then?”

You cringe. Clark is a better actor than you. He laughs. Or maybe it is really that funny. Laughing at your dead ex and the ensuing predicament. You take another gulp of the disgusting wine.

“Well, the salmon looks interesting, “but I do prefer halibut…” she mulls over the listings, “oh, prawns. Tweety, don’t you remember when you drank all my vodka and puked up seafood all night?”

“Mom,” you swallow.

“Tweety, that’s an interesting nickname,” Clark says, opening the door for further humiliation.

“Ah, yes, well, funny story.”

“Not really,” you intone.

Your mother ignores you as she closes her menu and rests it on the table in front of her. “Her aunt used to give her Tweety Bird everything. Pajamas, stuffies, notebooks… she hates Tweety Bird. Always has but she was too nice to tell my sister so she had this little collection. I bet it’d be worth a bit now. Vintage and all that.”

“Oh, Tweety,” Clark echoes, “interesting. Cute.”

“Yellow did always suit her.”

“Anything suits her, doesn’t it?” He puts his hand over yours, “I tell her all the time. She makes paint stains look incredible. You wouldn’t believe it, at the end of the day she walks out of the studio looking like, uh, what’s that artist that does the splashes?”

“Pollock,” you answer dully.”

“She was always obsessed with men with too much time and not enough talent,” your mother remarks, “art, I’m just happy she isn’t still working at the coffee shop.”

“That was like six years ago,” you retort.

“Still, you have a degree, you should use it.”

“And she does,” Clark assures, “she’s wonderful at what she does.”

“Aw,” your mother almost fawns, “you’re such a sweetheart. Where did she find you and where do I get one?”

You barely restrain from rolling your eyes. Clark basks in the praise. You empty your glass and feel the slosh in your mind. It might be a bit too much but the wine makes the nights go quicker.

You decide on a salad. You’re not hungry. Your appetite is scant at best, food is a necessity, not a joy. Like much of your life now. It makes you miss those numbers you thought were so dire. The easy life of putting numbers in boxes and putting frozen lasagna in the oven.

The server returns and you turn your attention to his convenient arrival. You need the distraction. He nods to your empty glass and you see how Clark takes notice as well.

“Did you require more, mademoiselle?” He offers.

“One will do until we have our entrees,” Clark insists, “no good drinking on an empty stomach.”

You smile and take the stout glass of water from beside the stemmed glass, “thank you. He’s right.”

“Do we know what we’re having?” The server asks.

Clark defers to your mother with a gesture. She orders first. Halibut with the seasonal vegetables. Clark has his usual filet mignon, and you get the cobb salad. You hand over your menu and sit back, twiddling your fingers in your lap.

“Salad,” your mother comments, “when she was a teen, I couldn’t pry the onion rings out of her hands. Now look at her. It’s catching up, isn’t it?”

“Nothing wrong with being mindful,” Clark comments as he brushes his fingertips along his thick beard. He’s let it grow out, his hair too, the curls spiraling past his ears. “It’ll save room for dessert, they have a delicious creme brule.”

“Mmm, amazing–” your mother’s voice catches and she looks past you.

You don’t react right away as another serve sneaks up on you. Clark reaches behind him with one hand, covertly as if trying not to give himself away, and brings it forward as you peek up at the woman all in black. She giddily grins and backs up.

Clark takes a breath and pushes back his chair as he rises. He turns and kneels as the server hovers nearby, hands clutched together. Several other tables hush and servers look up from their work. You feel time halt as your ears ring.

Clark presents a red velvet box as your mouth falls open. For those strangers all around, those who don’t know about you or him, it must look like shock, even glee. But it's thrumming, crashing terror. No. No. Your eyes pinpoint on the large diamonds as he reveals it, three rings of smaller ones around the large.

You look up over his head then over at your mother. She dabs her eyes and covers her mouth in disbelief. You wobble as you turn back to Clark. His voice rumbles in your ears but you can’t make out the words. You blink. And blink. And blink. Gaping like a dead fish.

“...marry me?...”

His question hangs before you. You could keel over and shrivel up. You could stand up and flee. Run until you can’t stop. You close your eyes and see the blood spurting from Marcus’ chest. The image of your mother’s face flits across your mind, replacing his. You won’t let him hurt her too.

“Yes.”

The voice is not your own. It can’t possibly be because you can’t feel it on your tongue but it tickles in your ears. Clark snatches your hand and forces the diamond on, standing as he tugs you up and pulls you into an embrace. He tilts your head and kisses you. The fairy tale he writes for the onlookers is nothing more than a cautionary tale.

[foreverisntenough]

‘OURS’

Summary: You were his and he was yours but what would it be like adding one more? Thrust into a whirlwind romance you never could’ve imagined that became your forever love. You continue building a new life across the pond with a very beautiful Scouser. A sequel to the ‘You’re Mine’ fic.

INDEX

Warnings: This series will contain fluff, suggestion, smut (unprotected sex,) pregnancy, parenting, self doubt, body image, mention of the word ‘daddy,’ kind of angsty, alcohol consumption - not sure what else really… if i miss anything please lmk!

Note: Thank you for reading! Please be sure to like, comment, or message me what you think of the series! Try not to nitpick with any real pregnant/ baby logistics it’s better if you just read along happily :)

Chapter 12 - Mwah | ‘Ours’

You were thrilled when you found out Liverpool’s preseason was going to be in the US this summer. You practically screamed when Trent told you. You were so excited to have an excuse to go back to New York. You’d get to see your family, you’d get to tote Teddy around back where you grew up. It was just a perk this trip would happen to coincide with his work. It would be amazing to have your parents around Teddy for a bit as well.

Before preseason officially kicked off leaning into the end of July, early August, you spent the weekend out at your parents house out in Montauk, New York. You and Trent were really happy you’d get one last bit of time together before the season began. Being back at your parents place made you miss it a little. Home was England now. Home was wherever life took you with Trent and Teddy but a small piece of you still missed this place. The big open beach that had a different scent than the ones in the UK, the way the sun shone a little brighter, a little warmer on the horizon. Any case, you were glad you at least got this weekend to spend with your whole family and show Teddy the place you spent too many summers.

“Mmm C’mere baby.” Trent hummed pulling you into him in the bed you were sharing. It was funny staying in your childhood bedroom with him. Okay, it wasn’t really your actual bedroom it was your bedroom at your beach house but regardless he liked being able to get to know you a little more through it. Trent liked to explore what you had kept hidden in your desk drawers, finding little niche things that made you you, made this your space. It was nice but it was also practically being rubbed in your face you were at your parents home and not your own so you felt like you had to behave. Trent’s family was definitely more relaxed. Chill, if you will. They had rules of course, no messing about, but it was still a family of boys, whereas obviously you were a house of two girls growing up in Manhattan. Dianne sometimes would tease you saying she’s glad she got you as her daughter later in life. She wouldn’t have been able to handle it. Boys were easier. Her boy currently wanted to be easy for you.

“T” you sheepishly giggled. “We can’t. My parents are literally right downstairs.” You whispered as if you were 16 and you had snuck him in without them knowing.

“They’re watching a film. You’re in bed with me so why are you worried about them? Worry about me and taking these clothes off for me.” He cooed as he dragged the strap of your silk tank top off your shoulder. You felt a shiver run down your spine in the best way.

“T! Please.” You let out a harder laugh amused by his advances. You pressed your palm against his chest pushing him away from you slightly.

"Mmnnmm.” he hummed dismissing your rejection. He was obsessed with this moment. The dark room only lit by the moon out over the ocean seeping in through the window. Your soft skin against his, the feeling of drowning himself in your scent. You were going to have to really convince him this was a bad idea to get him to stop. “Don’t be so scared, baby. Give me one kiss and then decide.” He cooed, brushing some of your hair behind your ear. His eyes fell into the pleading puppy dog look you couldn’t say no to. He kissed you and you moaned into his mouth almost immediately loving the feeling of his lips on yours and the sensations running through you from the second they connected. You pushed your hips greedily into his.

“Okay, okay. You win.” You sighed into him. You dropped your hands over his shoulders and bent your elbows back to drape your hands to come grip his hair. You pulled him into you for a deeper kiss. You gasped a little as he pulled your top further down exposing more of you.

“You’re perfect, baby.” He flicked his eyes between yours, your lips, and your tits indecisively. He couldn’t decide where to fixate first. You let out a desperate moan when he finally landed on your tits brushing his thumbs over your nipples. “Shhhh. You need to be quiet. Yeah?” Trent hushed you when he heard the creek of someone walking up the stairs. You giggled, not interested in his request, too caught up in what he had started and proceeded to pull at the waistband of his boxers.

“Y/N… are you awake?” You heard a voice from behind your closed bedroom door. Trent pulled your top back over your chest to your displeasure. He got out of the bed abruptly and pried the door open. You were surprised he went so quickly but you watched as he leaned on to the door frame. His back muscles looked stupidly sexy. Winnie was behind the door. “Not Y/N” She laughed a little seeing Trent answer opposed to you and then a little more when she assessed both of your states. You were wide eyed and Trent was impatient with her wanting to get back to you.

“No, not Y/N.” Trent confirmed he was in fact not you. They conversed longer than you thought they would Trent, biting at Winnie’s proposal if you wanted to go to the beach tomorrow so they discussed plans at length before he returned.

“Let me take this beautiful baby girl. Should we make you a big breakfast?” Your mum was quick to pluck Teddy out of your arms. You had woken up early in the morning and carried her downstairs. You loved that she connected so well with her but it also confused you in a way. Watching her be so maternal, so nurturing and careful, none of the things she was with you. As your mum watched Teddy, you hopped upstairs and dragged Trent out of bed. It was obscenely early but you were running on borrowed time. His season began in a matter of days and you wanted to spend time with him. You put on a jumper of his and a tiny pair of shorts and insisted he went for a walk on the beach with you. Your house was on the coast next to a resort you remember not remembering so many nights spent there growing up, sneaking drinks with your friends. It was funny you and Trent had sort of the opposite trajectories. You were carefree and relaxed when you were young and now grew to be more rigid and organized. Trent was the reverse, now calm and easy going but grew up diligent and committed.

“I had my first kiss there.” You laughed strolling on the shoreline, recalling a boy you think was shorter than you force his tongue down your throat behind a cabana. You filled Trent in on that tidbit of your life pointing in the general direction of the scene of the crime.

“Don’t tell me that!” Trent scolded you looking at you like you were crazy. He could believe you just told him that. You’ve had this conversation once before and only once. He wanted to know everything but just once.

“Trust me I’ll remember what you tell me.” he confided in you that there wasn’t a shot in hell he’d forget the names of the people you were about to rattle off who had touched you, gotten to be with you.

“This is dumb! You have to tell me then as well.” You asked not wanting to expose only yourself. Telling a partner about previous relationships was always a tricky situation. You had to know. It wasn’t like you had met as virgins but you were adults. You had to be honest, you wanted to be honest with each other it just was scary.

“You really want to know?” He asked interested in your answer but slightly falling into a feeling of anxiety about having to tell you. Trent was… well he was a young footballer on a big stage to say women flocked to him was understatement. It was something you were definitely aware of and made you nervous but at the same time the thoughts of telling him about the unmentionables you’d done with stupid mistakes like Chase was not exciting.

“No, not at all. I guess I should though.” You looked him dead in the eyes and he regretted starting the conversation. He didn’t feel as strong as he usually did around you. He felt weak like you had the power all of a sudden.

“I was 15, relax!” You laughed pinching at his side. He gripped your wrist fast. He was so agile it caught you off guard.

“Don’t tell me that either! You have never kissed anyone but me.” He teased and pulled your body into his. His eyes narrowed looking at you seriously. You ran your palms over his chest draping them behind his neck scratching his scalp gently. You could feel him relax under your touch yet simultaneously go stiff trying not to get too turned on in public.

“Whatever you say” you pressed your lips to his. He hummed at the taste of your kiss. Trent secretly, or not so secretly because he’d told you before but, really liked knowing you had some sort of wild side, maybe daring. You’d commit to things. Him being one of those things. You spent 5 days straight with him right after you met. It was all very instinctual. You just grew up completely differently and yet you fit perfectly together and he loved that about you. He remembered on your first date being slightly bothered that he couldn't open wikipedia and read more about you. He wanted to know you intimately. He wanted you to read him a biography about your life, the sound of your accent hitting against his ears all night.

“Ran from the police once here too.” You giggled and his face contorted, shocked at your admission. There were still bits and bobs of information you didn’t know about each other, of course. You could never truly know everything but you had gotten close to that. Trent definitely didn’t know this piece of information though. You broke out of his gentle hold. “Didn’t catch me though.” You yelled, beginning to run away from him down the empty beach. He chased after you as you ran

“Come back here. Think you were really gonna be faster than me?” He caught you quickly grabbing onto your arm. You stumbled a little not able to catch your balance on the shifting sand and his hold dragging you backwards.

“I am faster than you!” You giggled out of breath falling into the sand pulling him down with you.

“You’re not but I love you despite your flaws” he teased, pinning your arms down to your side. Your heart faltered a little at his aggression. There were moments with Trent when he was unintentionally very sexy. He’d forget how strong he was, how weak you were in comparison.

“My flaws! What happened to ‘you’re perfect baby?” You asked breathing heavily beneath him, widening your eyes mocking his accented words. He hovered over you. He looked perfect as the morning sun rose up over the horizon reflecting onto the water and splashing onto his golden skin.

“You are perfect.” He kissed you. “You’re beautiful.” He kissed you again “You’re not very fast” he kissed you with a slight laugh and your lips curled into a smile as you shook your head at him. “And you’re all mine.” You let him rest his body weight on you, pressing you into the sand. You squirmed a little beneath him as he persistently smothered you with kisses all over your face

“I love you so much, T.” You cooed sincerely. Meaning each word that fell out of your mouth.

“I love you. You've changed my whole life.” He whispered, moving his lips only millimeters away from yours.

“You are my whole life, baby.” You took a deep breath feeling his big hands on your hips push up the bottom of your his jumper. He dragged it up over you until he could see the bottom of your lacey bra peeking out. He kissed up your stomach, slow, dedicated, but also almost harsh. What he left behind were the signs of him, shiny spots caused by his warm spit. It was weird as you felt a memory of your first night together come rushing back. Like you were transported onto the hotel bed of the room you were in at The Plaza. You remember the feeling of his foreign lips on you, the ones you knew so well now like it was yesterday.

“God, please” he moaned. This wasn’t even directed at you, he just wanted some higher power to let him have you. You didn’t smile at him. Tears fell over your waterline. Your heart broke at the rant. He looked panicked. He looked distraught over how he felt. You wiped at your face before he took over slowly catching any tears.

“I didn’t really anticipate making you cry in bed. Not this way at least” you slapped at him gently, a smile starting to form. “Please” he softly begged you. You nodded wholeheartedly.

You should’ve known you’d fall for him then and there. You cried on your first date. Normally, you would’ve been mortified if that had happened and yet with a new stranger you felt completely safe. You wouldn't even call it a first date. It was like 7 in a row; dinner, the bar, the cab ride, the bedroom, the club, then the bedroom again. You laughed thinking how insane it was that he really did mean what he said, that he knew what he wanted, how certain he had been. You laughed recalling it all in grave detail.

“What are you giggling about, huh?" He interrupted your reverie. You looked up at the cheeky smirk appearing on his face as he watched you try to compose yourself under him. You pushed him away playfully trying to get out of the emotions that were crashing over you right now. It was too early to be that sentimental.

“I think we should get married here. What do you think?” He asked laying down next to you in the sand. He rested his head on your chest and slid his hand down to hold yours.

“Yeah… I think I’d fancy that. When?.” You asked him with a smile, liking the idea a lot. It hadn't really registered or settled in yet that you actually were going to get married, you’d have a wedding, so the exact location or date of it definitely hadn’t been thought about too much.

“Whenever you want. I’ll be there waiting.” You pouted at him. How did this stuff come out of his mouth? It was like he had it all rehearsed, like you were in a simulation being played and you loved every second of it. You laid there for a little longer before he pulled you up. “I am marrying a felon. Who knew?” he laughed.

“No. I told you, they didn’t catch me, remember?” You giggled in response but you fell into a comfortable silence after.

“What for…?” Trent asked and stopped walking, needing to know more. Needing to read the passage of your Wikipedia that broke down a run in with the law.

“It was stupid. Someone had thrown a party, there was underage drinking and a lady called the cops. I didn’t want my parents to know I was out so I took off.” you shrugged. His brow furrowed confused. “It’s really not a big deal here, honest. It's common, I think?” You tried to rationalize with him. He was quiet for way too long racking his brain. It’s not like he didn’t have fun growing up or have a drink before he was 18 but the police felt… intense. “You’re making me feel bad now!” you quipped.

“Well, you ran from the police!” he laughed, letting go of your hand and draping his arm around you.

“Oh well, not all of us are beloved local lads the police would let go are we?” You teased him. He knew what you were referring to. Trent would be lying if who he was hadn’t gotten him out of trouble. He told you about a few times where he had been pulled over driving by the police but they let him go after he simply took a selfie with them. His jaw slacked offended you’d bring that up. You nuzzled your face into his arm starting to feel almost dizzy by the whole conversation. “Do you still love me?” you sheepishly whimpered.

“What?” he shook his head at you confused laughing. “Obviously. What are you on about? I just asked a question. Of course, I love you.” he quipped before he abruptly grabbed your face with one hand. He pushed your cheeks together, pursing your lips for you. He smashed a wet kiss against them. You pulled away with a shy smile. His stare blank. “Got it?” he asked seriously.

“Got it. Jeez!” you laughed, wiping your mouth of some of the wetness that remained. He just rolled his eyes as you walked back inside the house.

You got ready to go to the beach later on in the early afternoon actually in bathing suits this time with Teddy and Winnie. Your sister sat on a towel and complained to you about how stupid some boy was dming her that Lauren was trying to set her up with. You lazily lounged on Trent while Teddy sat on his chest. He haphazardly held her. She occasionally would just topple over onto him still working on her balance but eventually she was definitely doing it on purpose, loving squishing her face against Trent’s warm skin, hearing his laugh, his chest vibrate and heart beat as his big hands kept her secure on top of him.

“You can never DM anyone, alright?” Trent cooed at Teddy, resituating her up right as she giggled, before falling again wanting to continue her game with him.

“DM all you want, Ted!” Winnie rebutted Trent’s rules. She gave him a smug smile he was annoyed at.

“Go on Ted!” You just spurred her on. Teddy squealed, hearing her name getting exciting. Her little hands grabbing eagerly at Trent’s face for a kiss. She had recently learned how to purse her lips, coming to understand that it would result in a kiss for her. She loved it. She loved the attention, she loved the sound, a giggle following every single one. Trent kissed her identical pout.

“Can mummy have one, please?” You asked her for a kiss, envious of the one she gave him. You squeezed her arm gently to grab her attention. You pushed your lips out towards her. “Mwah!” You made the sound she couldn’t get enough of. She laughed and wiggled trying to get to you. You dragged her off Trent’s chest into your own. She nuzzled her face into you comforted by every little thing. The way you smelt, the way your skin felt, your familiar heart beat. She calmed as you kissed her head. “My Teddy bear.” You squeezed her a little tighter to you. Trent pinched your arm to remind you of this moment that you definitely did know how to make her very happy.

“She’s happy right?” Speaking of a daughter's happiness, your mum asked your dad back at the house looking on, able to see your little family from afar as they sat by the pool.

“She’s never been better. He takes care of her.” Your dad reassured her watching you kiss Teddy laying on Trent.

“I’m surprised you took such a liking to him. If he wasn’t on the team you support would you’ve?” Your mum teasingly asked your dad. It was a joke but she was also a little curious as well for his answer.

“Don’t be silly, I genuinely think he’s a good kid. Good head on his shoulders, good family, good values.” You dad reaffirmed his stance that Trent was good for you. “Could be different though if he played in Manchester but...” Your mum ignored his dig at other teams, keeping her focus on you.

“They’re good with her.” Your mum admired you and Trent playing with Teddy. “I just want her to be happy. It felt like she never was when she was here.” She remembered life before you moved, before you met Trent.

“She was… she just needed to find her place. Her person. We all eventually find our way to them.” Your dad cooed, squeezing your mum’s hand from his lounge chair.

You came back to the house as the evening sun sank down. Winnie running with Teddy back to the house in a fit of giggles in her arms. You trailed slowly with Trent holding his hand inspecting his newly tanned golden skin. You shuffled up the steps and turned on a spout to wash the sand off your feet. Trent turned on the water inside of the outdoor shower next to it.

“C’mere” he dragged you in after him. “You look so good today.” He purred beneath your ear. His plump plush lips ghosting over the sensitive skin of your neck.

“Yeah? I thought I caught you staring” you turned away from him pushing your ass against him. His hands drifting around you slowly one gradually come to paw at your boobs. You shut your eyes in pleasure. You rolled your head back onto his shoulder.

"Nah, me staring at you. Never." His dark, brown eyes bore up into your closed ones and you breathed in heavily feeling his hands glide over your skin. His free hand ran down your side sliding under the tie of your bikini on your hip. It was subtle yet it had your heart racing. Watching his fingers run over your body as the water cascaded down with them felt pornographic. He moved his hand from your tits up to cupped your jaw. He tilted your head awkwardly and harshly to look at him. It made you gasp a little as he pushed his hips into you further. You could feel his hardening cock. You flashed your eyes at him and it only got harder. Your lust filled gaze sent sinful thoughts barrelling through his mind.

“Y/N L/N! That boy is not your husband yet. I better not be seeing two sets of feet in that shower.” Your mum yelled out clocking that you two had come back to the house, were nowhere to be seen, and the shower was on with two familiar pairs of feet in it. All thoughts were halted the moment you both heard her voice.

“Sorry” you sheepishly apologized strangely embarrassed by her call out. You kissed his lips, peeling your body off his. Your mum was ‘old school’ in an ironic way. Like she picked and chose when she wanted to implement those values.

“Nah, I have you for the rest of my life. Not worried.” He whispered before one final kiss.

“Mum, they have a baby…” Winnie laughed carrying a pitcher of margaritas out onto the deck with one hand, Teddy in the other before passing her off to your dad.

“They can have 10 babies, Win. We still don’t want to know it’s happening” your dad chimed in situating Teddy on his knee as she smiled oblivious to the nature of the conversation about her parents. You timidly got out of the shower pulling Trent behind you. He held your hands behind your back and rested his head in between your shoulder blades childishly hiding from your parents. “Trent, my boy, I love you but keep your hands to yourself.” Your dad quipped and you wanted to die. Trent held his hands up in innocence taking a step away from you. It wasn’t the first time Trent had encountered a protective dad but it was different with you. He had good banter with your dad but really respected him and listened to what he was asking because he respected you. “I want that signed license before I’m holding another one of these.” He voiced in a serious manner asking for the marriage certificate before you had a second baby. You couldn’t quite tell if it was laced with any humor as you watched him kiss Teddy referring to her as ‘one of these’ loving every second of her. You grabbed Trents lips and pulled him into a kiss. Your hands cupped his cheeks. His lips were warm and soft. A shock of electricity ran through you being so bold to kiss Trent in front of your family. Your parents groaned. Trent held his hands up again not touching you reinforcing this wasn’t his move.

“Oh Y/N, really?” your mum quipped. Winnie booed. You giggled and shrugged then went to pick up your baby girl.

“You introduced me to him. Your own fault. ‘Oh you’d like him.” You mocked the words your dad once told you whilst watching a Liverpool match pointing out Trent to you on the TV.

“And I appreciate it.” Trent said, running a towel over his tanned skin. He dried himself off before he wrapped the semi damp towel around you and Teddy. Winnie took a photo of your bundled family engulfed in his arms and terry cloth on her film camera.

“Win, I want that one. Send me it when you develop them.” Trent asked after hearing the shutter go off. The sun went down, drinks were poured, and the fairy lights illuminated your dinner table. “They taste different here, swear.” Trent explained to Winnie that he genuinely believed burgers taste different in New York. She wasn’t sold on his rationale so they rambled on back and forth debating the unimportance. You caught Trent smiling at you though mid sentence as he watched you scarf down your food relieved you were eating. He winked at you and you had to put your head down you felt so flustered.

“Any plans about the wedding yet?” You mum asked eagerly. It was driving her nuts you hadn’t begun making any concrete plans.

“Think this morning we decided we should maybe do it here” you cooed to no one in particular at the table but then looked at Trent to confirm the decision. You mum sat up a bit straighter and began to rant to you about contacting all these events planners and contacts she had in the area.

You and Winnie exchanged your typical look, the one exchanged your whole life. The ‘mum is fucking nuts.’ one, you knew well. You wrapped up dinner and you put Teddy down for sleep. You were sitting on the couch watching a film with Winnie. You were cuddled up into Trent when you got distracted watching the veins of his hands move as he rubbed over your skin. Your heart started beating faster as you tried to reclaim your focus but you couldn't. He was the only thing on your mind now. He caught your quick side eyed glance towards him before you attempted to follow the movie again. With the hand he was stroking you with he squeezed you. It took you by surprise because he did nothing else, didn’t even acknowledge you or look but it set something off. You wanted him to pay attention to you. Sometimes with him you’d get a feeling like you were just meeting again. Like you wanted to impress him, get him to like you all over again, make him want you.

“Do you really have to leave tomorrow?”. You whispered in his ear before you dropped your head into the nape of his neck, your lips gliding down his neck.

“Mmmhmm” he hummed as he rolled his head to the side to give you more space to run your soft lips over. He closed his eyes, lost in the moment, losing all hope at following the plot of the movie anymore.

“Are you sure?” You gently pushed his t-shirt up with your palm and slid your hand across his abs. The feeling of your lips on his neck and your nails dragging across his skin dangerously close to the band of his shorts had his heart rate speeding up.

“I’m not so sure right now.” He quietly told you. He took control of the situation quickly just the way you wanted him to. He turned his whole body towards you completely ignoring the movie and the fact that your sister was about a yard away. “I’m not sure I can leave this mug of yours.” His eyes narrowed and scanned over your features. He flashed a devastating smile watching you trying to suppress the smirk blossoming on your face.

“Can you guys not… I get it, you're engaged. I am single.” Winnie stood up annoyed. You giggled hiding in Trent’s neck, embarrassed almost forgetting she was in the room.

“Oh, Win! I’m sorry! Finish the film with us” you called out to her as she stormed off in a huff before stopping in her tracks.

“No, no, I’ll leave you to it! Also,” she flashed her glare from you to Trent. His eyes widened, surprised she was mad at him and he was being included in the sisterly spat. “You give Lauren fucking Jude Bellingham… and me, nothing. Jude Bellingham.” she threw her hands at him.

“I don’t think I exactly gave Jude to her, did I?” he quipped back and she feigned a face as if she was less than impressed. She started to laugh though unable to hide a silly smile on her face trying to commit to her theatrics. This was quintessential Winnie. She thought this was very funny. Trent knew her well but not the way you did, of course. Not the years of her creating these situations out of thin air. For Winnie, taking a bit or a tease too far was a thrill. She loved to overreact just to grab people's attention only to drop it with a giggle. It was a bizarre yet endearing power trip.

“Winnie!” You yelped her name before falling into giggles yourself at how ridiculous her claim was, very aware this was one of her ‘performances.’

“There’s 26 players on a team and you’re on two! Club and Country” she gestured to two different spaces in front of her with her hands spelling it out for Trent. “I’m only asking for one man.” She rolled her eyes at the stunned look on his face. She walked out of the room.

“I can’t tell if she was serious or not… Am I meant to set her up?” He said to you louder than he thought he did. Winnie’s voice echoing a ‘yes’ that made its way back to the living room where you were as she made her way down the halls away from you.

“You asked if I had to leave…you gonna miss me, baby?” Trent asked, a few minutes later, gently grabbing your jaw. The way his eyes looked into yours made you feel special. Made you feel love and then lust.

“Yeah, T. WIll miss you and this cock” you boldly stated. Your words drenched in neediness as you leaned forward to slide your hand over the bulge that had been tenting in his shorts.

“Mmm yeah? Show me then” He instructed you and your eyes lit up with greed. This was a terrible idea. Your dad would murder both of you, your mum would have a heart attack, Winnie might vomit but he looked so good and you were going to miss him… and his cock… for the 5 days you were about to be apart.

“Can you be quiet for me, baby?” you asked with feigned innocence in your eyes as you lowered yourself toward his length.

“I’ll be good.” He stroked over your cheek as he watched you lick the tip of his cock. He let out a moan, feeling your tongue graze over the slit leaking pre cum. Your eyes widened looking up at him annoyed because he literally just said he’d be quiet.

“Sorry, sorry. Start again. I’ll be good. I promise.” He tried to convince you. You ran your hands up his strong thighs as you licked his length from base to tip, not totally convinced by his promise but you didn’t care now that you had a taste. Desperate for more of him. Desperate to make him feel good. “Such a pretty girl, yeah?" He praised you in a whisper as you flashed your glossy eyes up to him. All you wanted was for him to tell you how good you were for him. He breathed deeply watching you trying not to make a sound. He didn’t do a great job but at least his words of encouragement were whispered. “That’s so good, baby, fuck. Keep going.” he quietly groaned. He tucked wisps of your hair behind your ear stopping your constant need to move your hair away from your sticky lips. He threw his head back against the couch cushion in pleasure at your movements. He ran his hand over his hair. The air had gone thick in the room. It was hard to breathe all of a sudden for both of you for different reasons. “Baby” he grunted at a normal volume warning you he was going to cum. He unraveled quickly to your delight. You clasped your hands around the backs of his knees, slacking your jaw just that much more for him to take all of him sucking in your cheeks as he released.

“Good?” you giggled after you swallowed, pulling yourself up using his thighs. He nodded out of breath. Eyes closed and head resting back onto the couch coming back to reality slowly. You climbed up on him and straddled over him. You slid off your shorts and to Trent’s surprise you weren’t even in panties. He just blew air out of his mouth amazed by your figure over him. Your tiny white baby tee clearly worn without a bra, nipples very out, and your pussy on full display for him to admire.

"You wet for me?" He asked and you nodded. You got wet just sucking him off and he knew that. He ran his fingers through your slick folds.

“Tell me what you want me to do, T” you whined, getting desperate for more. He was teasing you, giving you enough to lose your composure but not getting close to your entrance or clit.

“You’re gonna take my cock.” He demanded and you smirked and he began peppering kisses over your jawline. “and you’re gonna take my cum.” You aligned yourself with his already rehardened length. You sank down slowly not having his usual help preparing you for his size. You let out a whimper feeling the leaking tip of his cock burying himself inside your pussy. He began languid but purposeful thrusts up into you. He immediately felt you clench tigh around him as your jaw slacked and your brows pinched adjusting to his length. “So good f’me always.” he stoked your cheek with his thumb while his other hand held your helping you move on top of him.

“Please, T, I want to make you feel good. I want to be good for you.” Your words went straight to his cock. He smiled. Even in bed you were always well mannered. He loved when you begged for what you wanted. You liked T being in charge in the bedroom. You were politely submissive. You both were mindful you had to be quiet though so your words were hushed but they were potent. You both wanted to be good for the other. It was apparent with every deep upwards thrust of his and every merciless roll of your hips. It was all so needy and desperate.

“Oh fuck, baby. You make me feel so good. I want you to cum on my cock. I need to feel you.” He tried to whisper but his pleads were hard to keep in check with his shuddering breath as you were working on top of him. You both were climbing to your highs. “No one else will ever be able to fuck you ever again. No one else could ever fuck you the way I do.” He muttered into your neck trying to muffle his voice as he huffed.

“Nuh uh.” You moaned. You placed you mouth against him to quiet the volume of the sounds you wanted to make “Oh god, only you T. You forever. Only want you always.” Despite your dickmatized haze you genuinely meant that. You only wanted him to fuck you forever. Your thighs began to quiver.

“That’s right. Good girl. My girl.” He bit onto the most sensitive part of your neck he knew drove you crazy. “Absolutely no one else.” You picked up your pace even though your legs were aching, you wanted more of him. His breaths were hot against your skin, audible. You rode him for ages on the couch in pure euphoria. It must have been almost over any hour. You were surprised no one had come down stairs but were more relieved than anything else.

“I love you” you let out the most sinfully innocent moan in his ear. A sound he wanted to keep forever. His soul was completely in your grasp. The way you sounded and felt right now was his heaven. You pulled away and looked at him with twinkling eyes and he pushed up into hitting a spot so deep you had no other option to then fall into an earth shattering orgasm. Your face fell onto his shoulder biting him to not make a noise. He kissed your cheek repeatedly as he continuously thrusted into you as you attempted to move. White hot pleasure spread rapidly through your core. Seeing you cum always tipped Trent over the edge.

“I love you, baby. Gonna fucking cum inside my pussy, yeah? This pussy’s just f’me.” He confirmed his possessiveness over you and you loved it nodding eagerly. His drew his face into your neck and let out a strained moan as he thrusted up a few more times before he filled you up. Your eyes rolled back and closed. His cum leaking out of you more as you bounced on him a few more times helping him ride out his high, fucking his cum deep inside of you untill he was empty. You fell onto his chest heavily breathing tucking into his neck hugging him desperately.

“Let’s go to bed, hmm?” He asked quietly after you both had begun to calm. You pulled your head off him and looked at him so exhausted but with a glow he loved. You were the pretty girl who took everything he gave her just now but also the pretty girl he was unequivocally in love with

“I can’t feel my legs” you whined with a pout. You felt like you’d be given a lethal dose of euphoric pleasure.

“Oh, my poor baby.” he teasingly cooed, pressing his lips to yours gently. He picked you up sweetly and he wrapped your legs around his waist for you carefully as he carried you back to your bedroom.

Trent had to be at Liverpool’s team hotel tomorrow so he was out the door early. They had a game at MetLife stadium which is in New Jersey but it's for New York sports for context. It was kind of cool. Weird to be in an NFL stadium for football. It just gave off a different vibe. It didn’t feel right but it was more like exhibition games, upcoming season preparation.

“For youuu.” You cooed handing your dad the new LFC kit for the season as you got into his car. You were going to the game with your dad and Teddy. You had driven to the stadium with him from your beach house. Lauren and Winnie were also coming but they weren’t as fussed about the actual match. A lot of people you knew in Manhattan or just in the general TriState area were going to this match because it was an opportunity to see Premier League teams play and party. What was a little funny about it being in America though was that there were tailgates for the game, like it was a US college football game. Lauren and Winnie were within that group. People from college and friends you had from growing up all going together to get drunk. The football match was a second priority.

“You’ve got to come to more matches with me, dad.” You told him as you got to your seats just as the warm-ups for the game were beginning. You watched intently and more closely than most people do enjoying the sleeveless warm up gear Liverpool had on due to the summer heat. Trent looked particularly good, freshly tanned and toned.

“Gotta invite me.” Your dad cooed. “Isn’t that right Teddy girl? Don’t you want mummy to invite Pop Pop over to come see you?” He picked her up. She looked adorable in your opinion. She had on this season’s newest jersey freshly pressed with ‘daddy’ on the back. Bittersweetly for you, you had to get a bigger size now that she was getting older and growing. She had on white ruffled shorts and white adidas samba trainers that had red stripes. You sat through the match constantly having to point daddy out to Teddy. She was way more in tune with what was going on now. She could stand on her own for a few seconds before you’d have to help her. She could point and clap a little bit so games were all that much cuter now. As the end of the 90 minutes approached you got a notification your flight had been moved and you began to panic. You hated when plans shifted. Minor inconveniences really rattled you. The final whistle blew you were able to meet Trent but you were stressed and worried about finding a fix to your flight dilemma.

“My baby bear!!!! Did you have a fun time? Did you clap for dada with mama?” Trent asked, scooping Teddy out of your arms. You just smiled at them scrolling through your phone incessantly. “Hey… you alright, baby?” He looked at you and grabbed your chin with his free hand and lifted it up to make you look at him. He knew the face you gave him well. You were stressed. He knew your brain ran a million miles and hour. Very very different to his but he liked to help you, to help you settle it. “Baby.. take a deep breath for me. What’s going on?”

“Our flight got canceled or moved or I don't know and I have bad service and I need to make sure we get back because Teddy has her check up scheduled at the pediatrician and I already moved it once, and…” you babbled insistently.

“Baby….” Trent cut you off in a soothing voice. It felt like you were the only people in the room for a moment. His calming persona just wafted over you. You dropped your shoulders and took a deep breath in and exhaled it out your nose. Teddy tried to imitate the noises and breaths you took quite funnily. So both you and Trent laughed. “Good girl” Trent cooed to Teddy first. “Thank you.” He kissed your forehead and his hands that were resting on your hips crept up your torso raising the hem of your shirt slightly. “I will fix the flight for you. I’ll handle it, okay? You’ll make the appointment. It’s gonna be fine. Promise.” He kissed your lips this time. You you closed your eyes as your mind settled until you heard an ‘mawf” type noise from the cute little girl in Trent’s arm who was pursing her lips towards him waiting for her kiss from daddy.

You sat in a lounge type area after the game because Trent had a bit of free time and was allowed to come and hang out for a bit. So with him, your dad, Teddy, and a drunk Lauren and Winnie you all caught up.

“How’s Marce?” Lauren leaned forward inquiring about Trent’s brother. Winnie eyes widening with a smile knowing all the dirty details. You were close in age so you did a lot together but after you moved Winnie and Lauren met up more often just the two of them. You were happy they got closer but every Instagram story on a night out you couldn’t be at always made you a tinge jealous. If you and Lauren were trouble, her and Winnie were like hell on wheels. They were playing with fire anywhere they went.

“No, we’re not doing this again.” Trent responded, moving his gaze off of you and Teddy momentarily to look at her. Trent loved Lauren and just was joking but definitely didn’t want things to go any further than they had in the Marcel, Jude, Lauren triangle from Greece.

“Laurennnn” You palmed your forehead. “Laur is silly, huh?” you cooed in a baby voice to Teddy. It was a habit. It just happened, it was your life 24/7. You were a mum. Trent hummed concurring with you wiping his thumb over Teddy’s lips.

“No. Laur is not silly, Teddy girl.” She addressed Teddy but threw a glare at you then flicked her eyes back at Trent. “I asked how your brother is… is that suddenly a big deal?” She quipped back knowing very well her sentiment in asking was laced with a million different innuendos.

“It is when you kiss and tell, Lauren.” Your dad chimed in from his seat further down the table you were sitting at. You laughed hiding in Trent’s neck not knowing he had been listening to the whole conversation. Laurent rolled her eyes at your dad playfully.

“Lauren, you can’t just get with all of the men we have on deck.” Winnie looked at her with glossed eyes, still fairly drunk. “I mean, it’s not like T is helping me with who he has on any roster but…” she quipped with a laugh.

“Men on deck? Roster? Win… They are people and my friends. I'd like to keep my relationships with them and with you two if you don’t mind. Lauren already made her bed.” He rambled back at her with a smile teasing them both but also attempting to justify why he hadn’t set her up.

“They were good in bed though” Lauren chimed in. Trent made a face like he was gonna be sick.

“Ignoring that.” he looked at Lauren then back to Winnie. “Besides, I’m not just going to parade around every dressing room I’m in ‘Lads, anyone want my fiance's sister?’ Am I?”

“Well, you should. What picture do you show when people ask what I look like?” Winnie leaned forward asking both you and Trent.

“Teddy, please ignore everything that is coming out of the left side of the table’s mouth please.” Your dad piped up again. The chaotic conversation continued and definitely didn't get any better when Dom came over to grab Trent to leave. Winnie practically drooling. You said goodbye to Trent with a crying Teddy and it broke your heart. It was always the worst. She’d be okay but she also didn’t understand why daddy had to leave. Trent was knee deep in the few more days of preseason but did fix your flight issues the night after that match. You had to get back to your house, your dogs, your life, and your appointment for Teddy. You flew home with her and way too many bags you assured Trent you could handle but regretted it now. Thankfully you had some help from airport staff but it was still exhausting. You needed to sleep on the flight but had to wait till Teddy was out and even then you could only lightly sleep in case she needed something. You held her against your chest and she was good. You felt like she was getting alot more attached to you. Like something clicked, she felt like you were her home and being attached to you was the safest and comfiest place she could be. Even though she weighed a little more now and it was hard having someone glued to you all the time, it was a nice rewarding feeling.

You stood waiting for your Uber outside of arrivals at the Manchester airport with Teddy and the too many bags you promised you could carry. One of your suitcases tipped over as you attempted to wrangle them all.

“Uh Oh!” you cooed to Teddy making a surprised ‘o’ shape with your mouth and she lit up. She attempted to imitate you. It wasn’t great but it was cute nevertheless. “Yeah, Uh Oh! Teddy” You said once more but in your head you were actually saying ‘shit, shit, shit.’ You leaned over with teddy in your arms and saw a masculine hand grabbing the handle of the luggage before you could. He picked it up and you stood up straight again and looked at him.

“Oh wow… Thank you” You said inspecting a oddly familiar looking face. He was an older man but well kempt, dressed really nicely too.

“Not a problem. Visiting for long?” He asked politely clocking your American accent and what felt like 100 pieces of luggage around you.

“I guess you could say that, I visited a couple years ago… never left though” you candidly explained with a smile. You readjusted your hold of Teddy. You were focused on her but you could feel his eyes examining you.

“Have we met before?” He cooed, taking a closer look at Teddy and then you. Recognizing both faces in different ways almost perplexing him more.

“Hmmm” You thought for a moment. “You know what? Yeah, I think we have. I met you at the end of Liverpool’s last season a few months ago. My fiance introduced us. I believe you know him.” You responded recognizing that you had met this man at the party the club had thrown directly after the final match.

“I knew that face looked familiar. An Alexander-Arnold a mile away.” He cooed. He was talking about Teddy, of course. You hummed politely. “I’d love to talk to you sometime…” He continued talking. You paused a little confused what he was asking so you waited for him to say more. “ I am a lifelong fan of the club but I really work for Condé Nast and I’ve been wanting to do something to better understand the inside. What makes them tick?” He explained but it didn’t really give you any clearer idea of what he meant.

“Makes them tick?” you asked him, still trying to wrap your head around what was happening, while watching your baby, whilst looking for your Uber. You were slightly overstimulated but you were listening best you could.

“Your fiance. How do you make it work? It’s a weird dynamic I imagine. You make their world go round but you have your own life, your own interests. You're not out on pitch on match day. They come home to you, a valuable human, so who are you? I want to know about you." It was strange to hear someone speak about a relationship he didn't know anything about so honestly and almost insightfully like he already knew.

“You said Condé?” You asked just trying to organize this whole thing. You had worked with some of their publications before you moved and dabbled a little here and there after you did but not much anymore. You knew enough about the company though.

“Mostly GQ and Vanity Fair. In fact, that's where I met Trent first. I heard he was coming in for a shoot when a kind editor tipped me off that a footballer from my beloved club was coming in.” He spoke like such an old man, he had grandfather vibes in the best way. It felt like you were talking to stylish Santa in a hilariously endearing way.

“Oh, amazing. Well, I don’t know. I’ve never done any sort of official interview or thing in the public” you babbled starting to feel awkward. This was really uncharted territory. He gave you his card. You inspected it closely. God, this could all be some sort of ruse but it seemed legit as you read it time and time over again. ‘Bentley Brown’

“If you’d ever want to, I’d love to meet you again sometime for a tea or a pint and tell you more about what I think we could do.” You just nodded. “Lovely to meet you both. Best of luck with the season.” You stared at the business card for days after on your dresser in your bedroom. You’d never thought about people wanting to interview you. You’d had a career before and you had an instagram following now but that wasn’t anything official or noteworthy worth being published in print.

•

Thank you for reading! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter … 🤍

Next part - Chapter 13 xx

[blurredcolour]

Born To Be Yours

[One-shot | Sequel to We'll Meet Again]

Eugene Roe x Nurse!Female Reader

Despite the end of the war in Europe, violence still finds its way to the men of Easy company. Thankfully, Eugene knows just where to find you to get them help.

Warnings: Language, Weapons, Canon Typical Violence, Smoking, Treatment of Wounds, Medical Procedures, Hospital Settings, Questionably Written Cajun Accent, Inevitable Historical and Military Inaccuracies, Mature/Explicit Themes [Kissing, Necking, Dry Humping] - 18+ ONLY

Author’s Note: Slight warning - the events of this fic are centered around the shooting of Sergeant Charles E Grant. The title of this fic is based off the song 'Yours' by Vera Lynn. For your reference, the Cajun pronunciation of cher, Eugene's term of endearment for the reader, is 'sha.' Just to help you really imagine it in your head. This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the HBO series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.

Word Count: 3887

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This kind of thing wasn’t supposed to be happening. Not here in Austria after the surrender of the German army. Not today, the anniversary of D-Day. And yet here Eugene sat, balanced over a stretcher bearing a motionless Grant, holding an IV of blood above his head as Speirs sped down the road toward Saalfelden where the 47th Field Hospital was set up on the edge of town. Talbert rode in the front seat, frequently glancing back at them over his shoulder.

It was a miracle Grant was still breathing after receiving the headwound, continued to breathe through the frantic bandaging and loading onto Speirs’ jeep.

“Where’s the nearest surgeon?” The Captain had barked and Gene had answered easily, known it immediately, because the nearest surgeon was with you.

After parting ways in Titz, following that very eventful Easter Sunday, your hospital had stayed precisely where it was intended to be – twenty-five kilometers behind the line as they advanced across Germany. You had surprised Eugene by sending your next letter not by post, but in the pocket of an ambulance driver who had been all too happy to receive a pack of smokes from you for his trouble. Your ingenuity had opened his eyes, and he’d sent his own reply back two days later, postage paid with chocolate from his rations.

Being able to write one another without the censors having a say, to share every detail of your daily lives without fear of the letter going missing – as long as you each chose a trustworthy deliveryman of course – was a relief after all the delays in communication the pair of you had previously endured. Eugene was admittedly disheartened when he learned that your station in Austria would be in Saalfelden with the majority of the 101st Airborne while Easy and the rest of 2nd Battalion found themselves a further seventeen kilometers down the road in Zell Am See.

There remained a remarkable number of things for him to do, and the lack of ambulance traffic, while a blessing, severely impeded your correspondence once more. In short, Eugene was feeling awfully guilty about the fact that he had not managed to visit you since the war in Europe had ended. As the jeep pulled up outside the requisitioned gymnasium that had been turned into the 47th Field Hospital, he was not certain if he hoped you were there or not.

He jumped off the back of the vehicle as Speirs and Talbert grabbed each end of the stretcher and the three of them rushed toward the building. Eugene hurried a few steps ahead to pull the door open, wincing a little as Speirs shouldered it open fully, sending into the wall with a ‘bang.’ There was a scurry of footsteps from down a hallway to the right before you stepped into view, clad in your white and brown striped hospital dress, a brown cardigan over top with the sleeves pushed up to your elbows. Concern etched your features.

“Follow me.” You said quickly, rushing to pull open the next door into the gymnasium itself. “On the table right there please, sir.” You gestured to a makeshift exam table built of filing cabinets and a cot.

“Chief Nurse?” A young woman poked her head out from behind a privacy screen and Eugene nearly tripped over his own feet.

Last he’d heard you were Assistant Chief Nurse, promoted after your natural leadership of the group of nurses during your nine hours of capture. You’d gone and gotten yourself promoted again. He fought the urge to grin at you proudly as they carefully set Grant down as instructed.

“Shirley, go fetch Dr. Brock from his office immediately.”

“We need a surgeon.” Speirs rasped and Eugene watched the girl halt her progress across the room and look back to you questioningly.

“Dr. Randall then, quickly.” You amended, shifting to begin triage on the patient by checking his vitals as Speirs took Grant’s hand in his tightly.

Shirley fled the room, returning in less than a minute with a dark-haired man wearing a white coat in tow – surely Dr. Randall. A cigarette hung for his lips as he looked to Eugene for the hand off.

“Shot in the head with a pistol, maybe twenty minutes ago? Bandaged and given blood by IV.”

He saw Shirley hand you a chart out of the corner of his eye and you quickly noted these things along with the vitals you’d been taking when the surgeon had walked in. Dr. Randall leaned down to lift the bandages, inspecting Grant’s wound.

“Jesus.” He muttered.

“What?” Speirs asked, looking to him quickly.

“He’s not gonna make it.” Dr. Randall said, taking a slow drag on his cigarette.

“Ya can’t operate on him?” Eugene asked incredulously. This man was a surgeon, this was his job.

“Not me. You’d need a brain surgeon. And even if you had one, I don’t think there’s any hope.” Dr. Randall rubbed at his eyes, obviously just as worn out from the endless number of casualties he’d born witness to, before walking off.

Eugene’s eyes slid to meet yours where you remained next to the spot recently vacated by Dr. Randall; felt his throat clench painfully at the look of deep sympathy you were sending him.

Speirs took a breath and turned to Talbert, breaking the stunned silence that had fallen over the group. “You find the shooter, I want him alive.” He pointed at him for emphasis before turning back to Eugene. “Come on help me.”

“What’re you doing?” Talbert asked, grabbing the end of the stretcher.

“We’re gonna go find a brain surgeon!” Speirs declared before they were off and running back towards the door.

“There’s a German hospital further into town, follow this road for five blocks then hang a left.” You spoke quickly, hurrying to hold open the doors to ease their progress back to the jeep.

“Thank ya, Ma’am.” Eugene nodded quickly, ducking slightly as it had begun to lightly rain while they were inside.

“Take care.” Your voice shook a little and Eugene looked back to you once he’d resumed his perch on the back of the jeep, watching you wrap your cardigan tighter around yourself as you stood in the rain, staring at him intently until the vehicle jerked into motion as Speirs took off in the direction you had instructed.

The hospital was easy enough to find, thanks to your directions, and Talbert secured another jeep there to carry out Speirs’ orders to find the shooter. The brain surgeon was not currently on duty, but Speirs was undeterred and demanded his home address, from which he fetched him out of bed to operate immediately.

“It will take several hours.” The German surgeon had warned them when Speirs had asked where the waiting room was.

“We’ll wait.” He had replied flatly, and Eugene had followed after him as a nurse led them into an empty room filled with worn chairs and a few side tables with outdated German periodicals.

Eugene watched Speirs sink into one of the chairs while he found himself unable to sit down, wandering the perimeter of the room quietly, mind turning over all manner of things, but always coming back to how reluctant you had looked to see him go. The guilt within him had multiplied astronomically – he had been a fool to not rush to see you the instant he could, and now your first interaction since Easter was purely professional and surely terrifying. Precisely why he had been so very reluctant to admit his feelings to you in the first place.

“Doc, if you’re not going to sit down, go talk to that pretty Chief Nurse, would you?” He muttered, pulling the garrison cap from his hair.

Eugene’s head whipped up to look at his commanding officer in shock. Shock at the fact that Speirs had had the wherewithal to notice the looks you had been exchanging over Grant’s prone form. Shock that he was allowing him the liberty to visit you. Pure shock.

“Otherwise, it’s going to be a very long couple of hours.” There was a dangerous edge to the man’s voice that made Eugene swallow nervously and nod sharply.

“Yes sir, I’ll be back in a few hou’s then, sir.” He moved to slip out of the waiting room.

“Be careful out there, Doc.” Came Speirs’ parting command and Eugene nodded once more before heading out into the street, thankful that the blackout was no longer in effect and he had the assistance of streetlights to retrace his steps back to the Field Hospital.

He made a much quieter entrance this time, finding the nurse, Shirley, at the desk near the door in the gym.

“Oh, you’re the medic from earlier – how is your man?” She asked in a hushed voice as she stood.

“In surgery with a German brain surgeon now…I was wonderin’ if I migh’ speak ta you’ Chief Nurse?” He tilted his head, and she nodded quickly leading him down the hall to an unassuming office door.

“She’s still here, working late again.” She laughed softly and knocked.

“Thank ya, Ma’am.” He nodded as she nodded in return before heading back into the gym as your door swung inward.

“Gene…” You breathed in surprise, peering into the hallway as if to confirm he was truly alone.

“Cher…” He murmured in response, tremor in his own voice this time, and your fingers wrapped around his wrist, pulling him into the moderately sized office.

Your arms pulled him into a tight embrace as you nudged the door shut with your foot. He buried his face into your hair, fingers curling into the knit of your cardigan against your back.

“I’m right here, Gene.” You sighed soothingly, arms holding him so tightly, so warmly, Eugene was convinced you might actually be able to fuse his broken pieces back together. To make him feel whole again.

“Merci, cher.” He managed to find his voice after a moment, pulling back slightly only to press his lips to yours tightly in a physical expression of his gratitude.

Eugene felt the tremble that rolled through your body in response, his hands gripping you tighter as your fingers wended their way into his hair making him shudder in return. There was something about your touch tonight that felt like he was playing with fire, your entire presence loaded with explosive charge that could set him off at any moment. He pulled his lips back quickly before he did something wildly inappropriate in your office and panted against your mouth.

“M’sorry I haven’ come ta visit ya.”

Your response was a breathless laugh that made him bite the inside of his cheek.

“I’ve barely left this office. I’m beginning to think this promotion was a curse disguised as a blessing.” You smirked and stole one more kiss from his lips before straightening to look over his face warmly.

“It’s late, and I know ya don’ work nigh’s no mo’e…” He tried to keep the admonishing tone in his voice light, but he was admittedly upset you were working after midnight, something that even he was aware was unusual for a Chief Nurse.

“You know too much, Gene.” Your fingers smoothed his hair gently, restoring order to the strands you had put into disarray, a fond smile stretching his lips as he truly adored hearing you call him ‘Gene.’

His heart had nearly stopped when it had appeared in your letters but to hear it leave your lips was heaven itself.

“Let me walk ya home, tha man who did tha’ is still out the’e.”

He watched your eyes widen before you frowned deeply, shaking your head in dismay. “Did you find the hospital?”

“German brain surgeon’s operatin’ now…”

You took a slow breath before nodding. “I usually have an MP escort me, are you sure you don’t have to get back?”

He shook his head. “Grant’ll be in surgery a few hou’s longah. Cap’n Speirs won’ leave ‘till it’s ovah. Told me ta ‘go talk to that pretty Chief Nurse’ if I wouldn’t sit still.” Gene smirked ruefully and you blinked rapidly before biting your lip.

“Perhaps we have not been nearly as subtle as we thought, Gene…”

He laughed softly under his breath as he watched you turn to collect your things, sliding a small utility bag over your shoulder before turning out the desk light. The desk itself was still covered in stacks of files and he couldn’t help but frown as it seemed that your late nights had barely made a dent in the work your new position had foisted upon you.

“Wait here.” You said once you’d locked your office door and walked a little further down the hall to knock on another door.

He could barely make out another man’s voice, it didn’t sound like Dr. Randall, so presumably Dr. Brock, before you swung by the desk in the gymnasium to wish Shirley a good night. One last stop at the MP office to the left of the entrance where you informed your usual escort you had someone to walk you home before the pair of you were able to step out into the damp night. Thankfully, the rain had stopped falling but the puddles on the ground were plentiful as Eugene offered his arm. He could not help his fond smile as you took it without hesitation, hugging his elbow close as you walked side-by-side.

“I’m quite close to the hospital actually.” You gestured down the road and he nodded, turning that way.

“Tha’s how ya knew…”

Your soft laugh made his stomach quiver slightly though he did not miss the yawn you tried to smother.

“Ya been workin’ late a lot, cher?” He prompted softly, vigilant to your surroundings but so far, the streets were quiet.

“Mm.” You nodded slowly before sighing. “Seems the Chief Nurse before me was not such a fan of paperwork. Maude was a fantastic leader, we’re lucky to have her as the Assistant Director of Austria base, but if I had known what was awaiting me in that office…well I’d probably have asked to help her more when I was her assistant.”

He felt you tug on his arm and looked down to you quickly to see you pointing across the street to a modest apartment building.

“We’re quartered here.”

Eugene nodded and led you across the street as you fished for the keys in your bag. He couldn’t help but notice that you were in fact only a few blocks from the German hospital where Grant was still undergoing surgery. He said another silent prayer to guide the hands of the surgeon to success as you led him up to the building entrance.

A pair of sharp cries cut through the night, making the both of you freeze briefly.

“Hey!”

“Stop right there!”

The voices were still a block or so away, but belonged to men that Eugene knew a well as his own family.

“Inside cher, now.” He said quickly, pulling you toward the building.

“Second floor.” You uttered quickly and he pushed you up the stairs front of him, hands on your hips as he could hear the voices of Talbert and Malarkey growing closer, accompanied by footsteps splashing through puddles and the rumble of a jeep engine close behind.

You stopped at an apartment door and Eugene noted your struggle to line the key with the deadbolt, gently but firmly taking it from you to unlock the door and push you inside. He was quick to close and lock the door behind him, wanting you nowhere near the drunken madman who had already killed at least two people tonight. He heard you take a breath as you turned back toward him and he gently covered your mouth with his palm, shushing you softly as he listened for further noises from the street below.

They sounded as if they were right outside, their voices rising up through the stairwell as his wide eyes bored directly into yours.

“Yeah, that’s him!”

“Get in the jeep you son of a bitch.”

The sound of the engine faded off into the night and Eugene waited a full minute before lowering his hand from your mouth, the only sound remaining being the pounding of his heart in his ears. He heard you suck in a breath, the only warning he was afforded before your lips collided with his. He stumbled slightly, startled a moment, before the adrenaline in his veins was transformed into white hot desire. His hands clutched at your lower back, pulling you tightly against him as he blindly stumbled toward the doorway he had glimpsed upon entering your apartment.

He felt your body impact with something behind you and pulled back from your lips quickly to see he had backed you into the kitchen table. He felt you rise up onto your toes, seemingly intent on sitting on the tabletop and his hands quickly seized your hips, aiding you in your efforts by hoisting you the last bit of distance. He could not help the smirk that graced his features as you gasped at his strength; hard-won through years of training and carrying wounded from the battlefield. His mouth quickly returned to yours, shuddering as your tongue met his eagerly, your fingers once more burrowing into his hair.

Eugene’s lungs began to ache from a lack of oxygen and he reluctantly pulled back from your lips only to begin trailing open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and down your throat. Your shaky exhale filled his ears as your fingers began to tug at the buttons of his OD jacket, sending his own in search of the same on your cardigan. As he pushed the fabric out of the way, he slid his hands along your sides, sucking at the hollow of your throat, exhaling hotly against your skin as you parted your legs for him.

“Cher…” He rasped against your skin, gulping at the whimper that fell from your lips as he stepped closer, nestling between your thighs.

Your body felt so hot against him, even through his ODs and wool trousers, he was helpless not to press as tightly to you as possible, not even leaving a hairsbreadth of space. Your fingers curled into the front of his wool shirt, hips bucking against his slightly as you whimpered again.

“Gene!” Your gasped and he kissed you fiercely as his lower abdomen grew heavy with arousal, blood rushing to his already hardening length as he rutted against you obligingly.

The moan that rattled from your throat into his mouth had his head swimming, his baser instincts immediately taking over, demanding he do anything and everything to draw that sound from you again and again. His hands shifted to grip your thighs, pulling your body even tighter to his as he continued to move against you, delighting in your repeated cries of pleasure which he devoured hungrily. He barely noticed your persistence against the buttons of his uniform shirt until he felt your hands sliding around his torso with only the thin barrier of his undershirt separating your skin, a groan falling from his lips as he tore them from yours.

“Merde.” He hissed, screwing his eyes shut against the salaciously delicious friction between your bodies.

“Mm! I know that one…” You giggled breathily against his neck before your lips were on his skin, making his hips rock sharply against yours.

“Feel so good, cher.” He groaned again, hands shifting beneath the hem of your dress, beneath the hem of your slip, to find the bare skin of your thighs. Quite possibly the softest thing he’d ever touched.

“Yes, Gene.” You whined against his kiss-dampened skin. “Don’t stop.”

He grunted in agreement, fingers tracing higher to grip your hips, increasing the friction yet again as he rutted his fully hard cock against your underwear. The moan that fell from your lips contained an almost anguished tone and he had to grit his teeth against the desire to climax at just the sound of it. Your fingers were digging into his back through the cotton of his undershirt, hips echoing every motion of his as his fingers delved past the edge of your underwear to curl into the soft flesh of your buttocks.

“Oh god Gene I’m…” You panted, head rolling back, and he nodded vigorously, eyes latching onto your face, desperate to watch you fall apart in his arms.

Eugene had long been convinced that you could do everything with grace, and you once again proved his assumption correct as your eyelashes fluttered against your cheeks, your mouth falling open to emit a soft wail of pure ecstasy. Burying his face against your neck, he cursed harshly as his hips bucked sharply, all sense of rhythm and control abandoning him as his orgasm immediately overtook him. Sliding one hand out from beneath your skirt to brace against the table lest he collapse onto you, he smiled sheepishly as you grinned up at him, your lower lip caught beneath your teeth.

“Sorry, Gene…” You murmured, running your hands along his back soothingly, your chests brushing against one another as you both struggled to catch your breath.

He shook his head quickly and then tensed. “Do ya….are ya the only one billeted in he’e?” He glanced back toward the hallway, suddenly aware of how much noise the pair of you had made.

Your bright peal of laughter caught his attention, and he turned back to you quickly.

“You ask me that now, Gene?!” You teased, gripping the back his neck to pull him down for a lazy kiss as he huffed a laugh against your lips in reply. “No, just me. Chief Nurse perk.”

He relaxed with a nod, straightening slowly as his legs finally felt like solid muscle and bone once more.

“The washroom is just down the hall if you wa–”

“Be my wife.” The words fell out of his mouth before he could stop them.

He had intended to make more of a spectacle of it. Hell, he had intended to have a ring to put on your finger. But the way you were looking up at him now with glossy eyes still hazy with pleasure, crinkled at the corners as you smiled his favorite smile to date – he was helpless to hold them back.

Eugene held his breath as he watched your eyes widen, your mouth drop open, as his unexpected statement hung in the air.

“Are you…proposing to me Eugene Roe?” You exhaled and he gulped roughly.

“I understand if ya don’ wanna marry me, I still have ta go ta tha Pacific an’…”

“How could I say no, Gene, when I was born to be yours.” You eyed him softly but there was something about your words, and the way your lips were twitching with mirth, that tugged at the back of his brain.

“Cher are ya quotin’ Vera Lynn again?” He huffed and grimaced playfully at your answering laugh, yet felt his heart begin to beat double time as your hands cupped his cheeks and your expression grew serious.

“Eugene Roe, I would love to be your wife.” You nodded firmly and sealed your acceptance with a firm kiss that made his heart soar.

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Band of Brothers Masterlist

Tag list: @ronsparky, @fuckoffthanos, @bcon24, @phyllisthefirst, @footprintsinthesxnd, @she-wolf09231982

[iridecsense]

his brother’s keeper - m. 

 ⤷ summary: after yet again pining for his brother’s girl, newt finds himself stuck between his brother and the woman he is in love with...quite literally.

𓇬 word count: 8.0k 𓇬 pairing: theseus scamander | fem!reader | newt scamander 𓇬 genre: smut, porn with a little plot  𓇬 rating: 18+ 𓇬 warnings: profanity, depictions of spiked drinks 𓇬 kinks: voyeur, cuckholding, breeding, creampie, menage et toi, oral (fem recieving), anal mdom/femsub/msub 𓇬 author’s note: Something you can think of as a sequel to rumors, or a stand alone one shot. I will definitely not see the pearly gates after this, I am so sorry in advance! I may be a bit rusty so please be gentle and accept this late Christmas gift as a New Years surprise. Expect more from me soon. ;)

     It was usually in conditions like these, when the streets of London were slick with cool wet, and the biting cold spread mist from hot mouths filled the air, that made a time meant for cheer and love, one of desolate solitude for those less fortunate. Whatever the circumstances may be, it is in these times Newt Scamander often found himself alone. Though, if you were to ask him yourself he would deny the accusation and snarkily ask if one could ever be truly alone when surrounded by magnificent creatures. Despite the best efforts of his brother, who cared for him most earnestly, Newt hadn’t spent the holidays with him in years. 

      He had his reasons to be sure. Back when Theseus was engaged with his childhood friend Leta, there was no doubt an awkwardness. The younger Scamander brother was in love with the Lestrange girl. To see his brother have what he had longed for since he first met her put a strain on his heart. Newt was not bold in any sense of the word. Being forward with a woman never came easy to him. When he’d lost the chance to win Leta’s heart he swore that when he found himself enamored by another woman he would make it clear to her his affections.     In came Tina Goldstein, an American auror who he found himself entangled with on a trip overseas. He felt something for her—a kind of attraction that was different from the one he felt for Leta, but an attraction nonetheless. Tina was tall and beautiful and treated him with more respect than anyone ever had. But even that effort fell short. Tina had become more dedicated to her work and her sister. There was no room for him in her life at the moment. The two drifted apart succeeding the events of Grindelwald's rally in Paris. He returned to London, and she to her own affairs.     That had been nearly three years ago. Newt did well on his own, he felt. His creatures keep him busy enough. Getting through the day was easy. The nights were the hardest. At night there wasn't anything busying his mind from thinking of you.     Newt started to believe he was cursed to always fall in love with women he couldn't have. Whoever it was must have been especially cruel to make him fall for his brother’s girlfriends. That could be the only explanation. Otherwise,  he was just a sick, perverted man who desperately needed therapy. Little did he know two things can be true.    It wasn’t as though it were intentional. When it came to Leta, he had loved her first. Theseus just happened to get her. You, however, was something he did not expect. He was acquainted with you, only knowing and conversing with you when Leta was involved, considering you were her friend. It wasn't until she died that he got to know you better. During that time, Newt stayed with his brother and swore to stay by his side and help him and the ministry in capturing Grindelwald. Theseus grieved, and Newt was there to care for him, and so were you.     You would come by with food and insist on helping clean the apartment. The gesture was kind, especially when you were going through your own grief. Newt wondered if you used your kindness and instinct to help others as a way to distract yourself from the pain you truly felt. He was able to prove his theory right after many nights alone, drinking gin and fire whiskey, when he got to know you more intimately.     Theseus never knew, but in those first few months he spent grieving, Newt had grown rather fond of you. You were funny, kind, a great cook, and you listened to him, something no one else really did. The day he discovered your relationship with his brother he was disappointed, to say the least. Once again, Theseus had managed to take someone else he cared about. Newt often wondered how different things would have been if he had kissed you that night as you so desperately wanted him to. The same night when you had drank one too many gin and tonics and found the Scamander family album hidden in Theseus’s bookshelf. That night you somehow wound up on top of his lap, flipping through embarrassing baby pictures and evidence of his pubescent awkwardness. You were too drunk to notice how tense he was underneath you, or how with every shift of movement, or every laugh you chuckled, your ass pressed against his crotch.     When you came across a picture of Newt his mother had taken of him on the first day working at the Ministry when he was sixteen, you gushed over how ‘adorable’ he looked. Newt blushed. Then you said something he didn't expect.     “I see what Leta meant. You were always cute.”     Newt didn't know what to say. You positioned your head on his shoulder to look up at him. Newt was never good at eye contact, but he found it hard to tear his eyes away from yours.     “You have pretty eyes,” you slurred suddenly with a smile stretched across your lips. He could smell the alcohol on your breath your faces were so close.     “So do you,” he said, surprising himself with his own brazenness. It was true. You had two pretty (e/c) eyes like none he’d ever seen, even when they fluttered and stared blankly up at him in an intoxicated daze. But it was only with the help of the three glasses of gin he had earlier that helped him say it aloud.     Your smile grew wider. Your hand went to cup his left cheek. “I never understood Leta,” you mumbled. “How could anyone look past you?”     He’d wanted it so bad. To feel your lips against his would be his greatest reward after all he’d been through, after all his shortcomings. If he were a lesser man he would have taken advantage of your drunkenness. But you could barely sit up on your own, and he couldn’t tell how long it would be before you lost consciousness and fell asleep on the couch as you had done several times before.     “Kiss me, Newt,” you asked. “Please.” It was the first sentence you hadn't slurred since the gin entered your bloodstream. In a moment of weakness, his hand caressed your cheek. His thumb swiped over your bottom lip and he heard your breath hitch in your throat.     You were so beautiful and there you were, begging him to kiss you. Begging for something more by the way you pressed your body into him and looked desperately at his lips through half-lidded eyes. And maybe if he had four gin and tonics instead of three he would have given you what you wanted. But he was more sober than you and he respected you far too much to take advantage of you in your current state. What he had to do afterward took all his restraint.     The next day you greeted him in the kitchen with the same kind smile you always gave him as you prepared breakfast. The matter was never brought up again and Newt assumed you simply didn't remember. He saw no point in bringing it up himself. Before he knew it, it was too late. Theseus had set his eyes on you and wasted no time claiming you as his. Newt could not touch you, no matter how badly he wanted to.     And so, once again, Newt found himself in love with his brother’s girl. Constantly keeping her on his mind, constantly yearning for her, but always stepping back. He was still close to you, which only made it harder.     For the past year, he’s kept the secret of that night. But that wouldn't stop him from thinking of it, and all that could have been, just as he was doing now, lying in his bed with his hand wrapped around his cock. If only he could have you with him now and feel your skin on his, taste the salt of your sweat, and feel the heat of your body. He could only imagine. But even in his imagination he was the happiest man on earth. Theseus must have felt like God.     Unbeknownst to him, he would get a taste of that feeling the very next day. In the morning when he woke up, he found an owl waiting for him with a letter. It was an invitation, from you no less, to join you and Theseus for a Christmas dinner later that evening. In truth, Newt had been so busy tending to his creatures the past week he had forgotten how close Christmas was approaching, let alone that it was Christmas Day.     The thought of spending an evening with you was enticing. It was Theseus’s presence that made him second guess. He loved his brother, that was no question. He probably loved his brother more than anyone else in the world, which is why he could sit silently as he continuously watched him have everything he ever wanted with no protest. That didn't mean it was easy. It was hard to see you with him, even harder than when he had to endure Leta with him. At least then he had Tina as a distraction. Now there was only you and he could see no one else better than you.     Had it been Theseus who sent the letter he wouldn't have agreed to stop by. He might not have even replied. But since it was you, and only because it was you, he sent an owl confirming his arrival.     On the other side of things, you were ecstatic. It had been some time since you'd seen Newt and you considered him one of your closest friends. You knew Theseus would love having his little brother visit for Christmas and felt it would be the perfect present for him.     You had told Newt to come a couple of hours earlier than when you would be expecting Theseus. When you opened the door you greeted him with a bright, toothy smile and open arms. Newt hugged you back awkwardly and stepped inside.     “Everything is cooking in the oven now,” you said. “I’m just finishing up the pie for dessert. Come, have a drink in the kitchen.”     Newt followed behind you. You looked adorable in the tacky red and green Christmas sweater you wore over your long white dress. You made him a drink and started on your creme pie.     “It’s so good to see you, Newt,” you told him. “I was afraid you couldn’t make it. I know how busy your creatures keep you.”     “It’s good to see you too,” he replied. “Bunty insisted she stay and help while I am away. She claimed she had no other plans.”     You pouted your lips. “That’s awful!” You said. “You should have told me! I would have gladly invited Bunty over if I knew. No one should be alone on Christmas.”     Newt smiled softly. There you go again, always thinking of others. As the two of you sat in the kitchen you caught each other up on your lives. Things were going great for you, Newt discovered. You had recently gotten a promotion and received a medal for your efforts spying abroad for your department and gathering intel on Grindelwald and his acolytes.    Newt told you about his own travels abroad, searching for and rescuing creatures whenever he could while doing his own work for Dumbledore to support the cause. He told you stories of the places he’d been and the creatures he’d seen, even promising to let you visit his home to see them for yourself. “They’d love you,” he said.     Before he knew it, the two of you were sharing a glass of wine on the couch while the food kept warm. Then you shared another, and another, and another while you both waited for Theseus to return.     “He works later these days,” you tell Newt. “There’ve been days where he doesn't come home at all. Just stays up there, drooling over papers in his office. I worry about him sometimes.”     “That’s my brother,” he says. “Always working harder than anyone else. Always having something to prove. In some ways I’m jealous.”     You chuckled. “Jealous? How so?”     “He’s always so,” Newt paused, searching his brain for the right word. “Dedicated. Determined. He sets his mind on something and won't stop until he does it. He’s always been like that.”     You turned to face him next to you on the couch, sitting on your legs and propping your elbow on the back of the couch to lean your head against your hand. You peer at him quizzically. “But you’re like that too.”     Newt scoffed. “No I’m not,” he chuckled as he took a sip of his wine.     “Yes, you are!” You insist. “You’re very determined and dedicated to your animals. You have done things many others are too afraid to do; all to protect the things you love. Even Theseus admits you are much better suited to be an auror than he is.”     Newt raised a curious brow, a coy smile on his face. “Really?”     You nod. “He’s very amazed by you—admires you, even. As do I. You’re very brave, Newt. No one is more determined or dedicated than you.”     “There is one person,” Newt muttered.      “Who?” You asked, genuinely curious about his answer, prepared to playfully berate him for his humbleness.     “Theseus.”     “Well, he doesn't seem to think so,” you say.     “But he is,” Newt quipped, whipping his head to look you in the eye. The energy in the room shifted, and though both your brains were fuzzy from wine, you could tell the moment had gone from playful to serious.     “He is,” he continued. “He wanted to become head boy and he did. He strived to be the best auror at the ministry and he is. He wanted Leta and he got her, and when he wanted you, he got you.”     You were silent as you listened, unsure of where exactly Newt was going with his ramblings.     “I could never do that,” he admitted. “If I could, you would be with me now, not him.”     Now it was the wine talking. You were surprised. Newt’s face was red, but at this point, it wasn't clear if it was because he was embarrassed, frustrated, or tipsy.     “What do you mean, Newt?” You asked, your voice soft and sweet. His expression softened, and he looked at you in such a way your heart fluttered in your chest.     “You are so beautiful,” he proclaimed, making your face burn hotter than it already was. “I should have told you that a long time ago. If I were as forthright as Theseus I would have told you I loved you the night we almost kissed a year ago on this couch.”     Newt chuckled at your stunned expression, unable to say a word. “You don’t remember, but you were beautiful then too. You sat right here in my lap and you held my face in your hand and begged me to kiss you. I would have if you weren’t intoxicated. I wanted to talk to you about it the next day but you had already forgotten—”     “I didn't forget,” you spoke finally. Now it was Newt’s turn to be surprised.     “What?”     You put your wine glass down on the coffee table and scooted closer to Newt on the couch. Your knees touched his thigh, but neither of you moved.     “I didn't forget,” you repeat, clearer this time. “We were drinking while Theseus was asleep in his room one night. I had found your family album and we looked at it together when I asked you to kiss me.”     Newt frowned. “If you remember then why didn't you say anything?”     “I was embarrassed,” you reveal. “When you didn't kiss me I thought that I made a fool of myself. That you rejected me. When you didn't say anything afterwards I figured that was it. That you just wanted to forget and stay as friends.”     Newt couldn't believe his ears. All this time you had remembered that night and thought he held no feelings for you. He was spiraling in his head, you could tell by the way he distantly stared into his glass of wine.     “Newt?” You called out to him, taking his glass and replacing it with your hand.     “This is what I mean,” he said finally. “I wasn't determined. If I were like Theseus I would have talked to you regardless of whether or not I thought you remembered. I would have told you how wonderful it felt holding you in my arms and how desperately I wanted to press my lips against yours and taste you on my tongue. I would have told you how much I love you.”     Your stomach turned excitedly at Newt’s words. You squeezed his hand tightly. “Newt...”     He stopped, realizing what he just said. “I...I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I don’t know why I’m saying these things.”     “That would be the veritaserum in the wine,” said a deep voice behind him.     Newt turned around and found his brother, Theseus, standing under the archway to the foyer.     “Theseus,” He stammered and quickly stood to his feet.     “No need to get up, brother,” he said calmly. “It wasn’t as if I didn’t know.”     On the couch, you held up the wine bottle and inspected it. “How did veritaserum get into the wine?”     “I drugged it,” Theseus said simply as he walked past Newt and took a seat across from the couch in an armchair.     “Why the hell would you do that?” You asked Theseus angrily.     “Because this morning you said Newt accepted your invitation to dinner. Because I knew the real reason why Newt hasn't visited me in months is that he feels guilty for loving you knowing you’re with me,” he explained. “And I didn't want to have a Christmas dinner with a brother who resents me and sulks across the table pining for you. So, I put veritaserum in the wine I knew you wanted to drink tonight and left the two of you alone, hoping my baby brother would finally confess his feelings. And he did! Now we all know.”     You shot up from your seat and glared at Theseus. “This is cruel Theseus. You had no right!”     “I will admit it was slightly unethical, but I don’t see the harm in it. Aren’t you glad that Newt confessed his feelings?”     “Yes,” you answered instantly, though, of course, not of your own free will.     Theseus then turned to Newt. “And don't you feel better having finally told her?”     “Yes,” Newt admitted.    Theseus smiled. “Good! Now everything’s better.”     “You aren't upset?” Asked Newt.     Theseus looked at him as though he were confused. “Why would I be upset?”     “You’re not upset that I’m in love with your girlfriend?”     Theseus pursed his lips in thought before shifting his eyes to the half-empty bottle of wine. Standing to his feet, he walked towards the coffee table and grabbed the bottle by the neck. He took a swing of the truth-spiked wine and put it back down.     “Why don’t you ask me again.” He said.     “You’re not upset that I love y/n?” Newt once again asked.     Theseus smiled almost tenderly at his brother. “No.”     The older brother walked back to his chair and sat down, leaving you and Newt stupefied. “I do, however, wonder how you feel, darling.” He said, now turning his attention to you.     You furrowed your brows. “Me?”     “Do you love Newt back?” Asked Theseus.     Newt’s eyes fell on you. Your mouth opened and took a breath in preparation of your answer, but it closed as soon as it happened. Your glare on Theseus sharpened.     “What are you playing at, Theseus?”     “Don’t try fighting it,” he said. “You won't be able to lie so just answer. Do you love him?”     Your eyes flickered over and connected with Newt’s, who was looking at you expectingly. Your eyes softened and the tenseness in your shoulders fell away.     “Yes,” you whispered.     Newt couldn't believe his ears. Everything happening at this moment felt surreal. Just a few minutes ago he thought he had embarrassed himself once again, having confessed his feelings to his brother’s girlfriend right in front of him. He was prepared to be punched and thrown out and for his brother to hate him for the rest of his life. But instead of being angry, Theseus was encouraging him. He encouraged you and finally, he got to hear you say words he’d only dreamt of you saying. You loved him. Oddly enough, despite how it came about, Newt couldn't be happier.     “Kiss her.”     Newt was pulled from his thoughts and his shared gaze with you. You both turned and looked at Theseus who sat cooly in the armchair.     “Didn’t you hear what she said?” He asked. “She loves you! Stop standing there like an idiot and kiss her!”     “Theseus—” you began to speak, but Theseus stopped you.     “It’s okay, love,” he assured you with his gentlest voice. “Let him kiss you.”     The energy in the room for the second time that night, all because of Theseus, who ironically was the calmest person in the room. But there was something about the aura permeating from him that domineered over everyone else. His gaze burned into them as he stared, waiting for Newt to do as he commanded.     Every part of him wanted to turn around and walk out the front door and never speak of this again. He would go home and lay in his bed and do his best to fall asleep and forget everything that happened here tonight. Every part except the one that wanted to turn to his side, take you in his arms, and kiss you the way he should have that night. It was that part of him that won over all his better judgments.    In an instant, Newt’s lips were on yours. He held your face in his hands and pressed his body flat against yours. You were taken aback. You’d even yelped when his lips first touched yours. It was a while before your body finally relaxed and you closed your eyes, leaning into the kiss. Your lips began to move with his and he felt your hands lightly grip the sides of his waist, still unsure.     Theseus leaned back in his chair and said nothing as he watched. Newt’s tongue darted from between his lips and licked a stripe over your own. Your mouth opened for him willingly and he wasted no time exploring your mouth. He moaned at the taste of you. The feeling of your tongue swirling around his made his cock twitch in his pants. You could feel it against your thigh and your breath hitched in your throat.     “Don’t stop,” ordered Theseus with his hand over his pants, palming at the growing hardness straining against the fabric.    Newt kept his mouth on yours, only moving his grip around your face down to your hips. Your hands fisted the fabric of his shirt and you pressed your body into him, yearning to be closer. Newt stumbled back until the backs of his legs hit the couch and he broke away from the kiss to sit down. He spread his legs outwards and pulled you down onto his lap. You straddled his waist and his hips bucked upwards, longing to connect. A soft moan fell from your lips and he swore hadn't heard a more beautiful sound. Soon lips were back on yours.     “Tell her how pretty she is, Newt,” Theseus instructed.     Newt pulled from your feverish kiss and pushed your hair from around your face. “You’re so beautiful, y/n,” he said. You looked down at him through half-lidded eyes dilated with lust. Your lips twitched into a smile as you began salaciously grinding your hips against him, feeling the bulge of his dick against your slick heat. Newt hissed and watched you from below, moving his hips along with you, admiring your form hovering above him as you pulled your sweater over your head and threw it on the floor.     “Show him just how beautiful you are, sweetheart,” Theseus commanded. His voice was low and husky. He watched the two of you closely, palming his own arousal.     It was of no concern to the two of you, however. Newt was so encompassed by you he could barely pay any mind to his brother watching across the room. Of course, there were thoughts screaming in the back of his head telling him how fucked this whole situation was, but they were nothing more than muted whispers compared to you rubbing against his cock.     Just as Theseus commanded you showed Newt how beautiful you were when you took a hand and pulled down one of the straps to your white dress and freed your arm, repeating the same to the other. Taking his hands from your waist you brought them to your chest and helped him pull your dress down around your waist, revealing your breasts.     You felt Newt’s cock jump at the sight of you. He could only stare slack-jawed as you placed his hands over your beasts and guided him in pressing them against each other in a continuous circular motion while you rubbed your clothed clit against him. Your soft pants filled his ears as his low grunts filled yours.     “Newt...” His name fell breathlessly from your lips.     He had pumped his cock to the thought of you moaning his name many times before, but it barely held a candle to what it felt like to hear the real thing. Your name fell from his lips just as easily and he once again captured your lips in a heated kiss while he massaged your breasts.     Across the room, Theseus had his hand wrapped around his cock, slowly sliding it up and down as he watched his girlfriend shamelessly hump his little brother. You were the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. The way your hips moved against Newt could rival even the best of strippers. Your pretty moans filled his ears and he couldn’t help but reminisce about the many times he'd made those same sounds come out of you. To hear it in person is a gift. To feel your lips was a blessing. To feel your tight cunt wrapped around his cock was the best thing a man could ever feel. There is no greater present than fucking you, and Newt didn’t even realize that Theseus had just given his brother the best Christmas gift a man could ask for.     “Tell her what you’re thinking, Newt,” Theseus breathed.     Newt licked his lips. He did his best to gather his thoughts which were wall focused on you.     “Go on,” you said through shaky breaths. “Tell me.”     Newt moaned and pressed a trail of kisses on your bare shoulder and neck. “I’m thinking about how amazing you are,” he grunted out. “I’m thinking about how long I’ve wanted you and how good it feels to finally have you.”      You loved hearing Newt praise you. You loved the feeling of his hands and lips on your hot skin.  “Keep going,” you urged, moving your hands up his chest to unbutton his shirt.     ���I think you’re perfect. I think that Theseus doesn't realize how lucky he is to have you,” he said boldly, piquing both your and Theseus’s interest. “You should have been mine. I would take good care of you—f-fuck!”     You had reached the top of his pants and unbuckled his belt, unbuttoning his pants and pulling out his hardened length. He wasn’t bigger than Theseus, but he certainly was thicker. Your hand slid up and down his shaft, only stopping to collect the precum leaking from his tip on your finger to put them in your mouth. He watched in awe as you licked and sucked your fingers clean.     “God, I want you,” he growled in your ear as your hand reached for his cock. “I want to be inside you. I want to feel you,” he said through labored breaths.     “Give him what he wants, love” Theseus spoke up. “Let him feel you.”      You sat up on your knees and hovered over his hips. Pulling your panties to the side with one hand you used the other to guide Newt’s member to your center. Both your breaths caught in your throats when he entered, stretching you open with his thick cock. Feeling you around him was unlike anything he could ever dream or hope. You were slick with arousal and he easily slid in and out of you, filling you up in all the right places. Your moans filled the room as Newt sucked on the supple skin of your neck. His hands and fingernails dug into your soft skin as he held you close and it felt as though the two of you were the only ones in the room.     Newt’s name sweetly slipped past your lips. Yours flittered through the air from his own. His hips rolled into yours with a precision you had no idea he was capable of. If he’d allowed it, the two of you would have lost yourselves in each other, forgetting the third presence in the room. But that wasn't going to happen.     Standing from his seat, Theses moved towards the couple and took a seat next to them on the couch, his hand still wrapped around his dick. “Does it feel good, my love?” He asked you.     “Yes,” you breathed.     “Does my little brother make you feel good? Do you love the way his cock stretches your tight little hole?”     You moaned at his dirty words, lulling your head back as Newt's lips wrapped around your nipple. “Y-yes,” you stammered, your hips rocking faster against Newts. “I love it. I love the way he feels inside me.”     “I know you do,” Theseus hummed, his breaths hastening. “You want him to make you cum don’t you, baby?”     You nodded excitedly and Theseus smirked.     “Newt, help her cum,” he said. “She likes it when you speak to her. It turns her on hearing all the dirty things you’re going to do to her.”     “Is that true?” Newt asked you once he pulled his lips from your pert nipples. “You want to hear all the things I want to do to you? Like how I’m gonna fuck your sweet cunt until you’re shaking a quivering under me? How...How I’m gonna fill you up so full with my cum you’ll end up with twins!”     He and Theseus laughed.     “See,” Theseus chuckled as he lifted the fabric of your skirt to reveal the sight of Newt’s cock pumping in and out of you. “She likes it! Look, she’s so wet your cock is soaked!”     Newt looked down and marveled at how wet you were. You took him so well and his cock disappeared inside you with ease. Newt held the skirts of your dress up so he could watch—so they could both watch.     Theseus’s hand rubbed the inside of your thigh. “Do you want me to touch you too, baby?” He asked politely.     You opened your eyes to look at your handsome boyfriend. He had long since undone his tie and unbuttoned his own shirt. His large cock was being tugged by his right hand and you nearly drooled at the sight of it, suddenly missing the feeling of having it shoved down your throat. You loved it when Theseus touched you. His hands were always precise, knowing exactly where to pinch, caress, and stroke. Like how he was rubbing your thigh right now, knowing how sensitive the skin on that area was for you. Your eyes connected and you ached seeing how dark his once baby-blue eyes had become.     “Yes,” you nodded.     Theseus wasted no time pressing his fingers on your aching clit. He rubbed your most sensitive part while his hand teased his own cock. Between his fingers and Newt’s dick plunging deep inside you, your body buzzed with pleasure. The air in the room grew hot and sticky and a symphony of soft moans, grunts, and pants melded with the sound of skin slapping against skin and the slick wetness of your dripping cunt. You could feel the knot in your stomach tightening and your eyes shut, desperately chasing that feeling.     “Are you close, darling?” Newt asked once he felt you tighten around him.     “Y-yes!”     Theseus’s fingers rubbed faster to help you get there. “Watch her, Newt,” he urged. “When she comes, it’s the most beautiful thing you’ll ever see.”     Newts darkened hazel eyes trained on you. His grip around the dress wrapped around your waist tightened and her wrapped it around his arm and held your hips steady. His hips snapped upwards, changing pace. You bounced on his cock, your moans growing louder and louder.     “Cum for me, please,” Newt begged, now reaching his own release. “Let me see it. I want to see it. Show me, my love. Show me how beautiful you are when you cum. Please show me.”     He pressed open-mouthed kisses on your chest and neck, his eyes never leaving your face. Theseus’s breaths quickened as well, his pace on his cock matching the pace of your hips rising and sinking on Newt’s member. One of your hands wrapped around the base of Newt’s neck, taking a fist full of his hair. The other grabbed Theseus’s wrist and held his hand in place over your clit. A few more pumps and several flicks was all it took for your body to seize up, tightening around Newt's cock as your whole body trembled. Your moans caught in your throat, struggling to escape. The knot inside your stomach had broke and you came harder than you ever had in your life.     Newt came not long after you, sputtering your name as he did so and holding your hips down, burying his dick deeper inside you and making sure every drop of his cum spilled inside. “F-fuck,” he choked out.     Theseus had cum too, clear, white ribbons of his seed spilled into his hand and onto his abs. He wiped up what had spilled with two fingers and held it up to your lips. You were still dizzy from your orgasm, but it didn't stop you from obediently opening your mouth to suck Theseus’s cum from his fingers. Newt watched as you did this. Your skilled tongue licked and wrapped around Theseus’s long fingers promiscuously, ensuring you cleaned up every last drop.  It was enough to get him hard and twitching inside you again.     “That’s a good girl,” praised Theseus with a smile on his lips. “Isn’t she a good girl, Newt?”     “The best,” Newt agreed.     Theseus pulled his fingers from your mouth and replaced them with his tongue by reaching up and pulling you into a deep kiss. It was slow and purposeful, as if he were trying to show off in front of Newt who had no choice but to watch uncomfortably as your tongues swirled passionately in each other’s mouths, earning your soft whimpers. Inside, he hated how much it turned him on.     As you both pulled away, you captured Theseus’s bottom lip between your teeth and playfully tugged it away before letting go. Theseus’s hand quickly flew to tightly wrap around your neck, keeping your eyes trained on him. He smirked. “Look at you, darling. Still asking for more. Aren't you tired?”     Your hand reached down to grip his cock as an answer, making him laugh. His grip around your neck tightened.     “What? Was my brother’s cock not enough for you? You need to have mine as well? Or perhaps you want us both at the same time. Is that it? You need me and my brother to fuck you senseless like the greedy little cock whore you are?”     You clenched at the thought of having both Scamander brothers filling you up at once. Newt felt it and your increasing arousal started to drip down his balls.     “I think she does,” said Newt. “Will that satisfy you, my love? If Theseus and I fucked you within an inch of your life and pumped your selfish cunt full of cum? Tell us you want it.”     You’d never seen this side of Newt. You didn't even think he was capable of saying such filthy things. He was always so sweet and temperate, being shyer than demiguise. But here he was, spurring you on with his debaucherous words. It only made you want him more.     “I want it,” you say and salaciously grind your hips into Newt, making him hiss due to how sensitive he still was.     “Beg,” Theseus demanded. “Tell us how badly you want it.”     Your cheeks burned red hot from embarrassment. Theseus smirked mischievously because he loved watching you squirm. You always begged so nicely for him with your pouty lips and round doe eyes. His little princess. He only wanted Newt to see and appreciate it too.     “Please,” you begged shamelessly. “I want to feel you both inside me. I need to feel it. I want it so bad. I want to make you both feel good.”    “You want to make us feel good?” Theseus repeated. “Such a sweet little girl you are, wanting to please us. But we all know your secret.”     Theseus turned to Newt. “Should we give her what she wants?” He asked.     Newt looked up at your pleading eyes, so sweet and innocent despite them begging for him to fuck you. How could he ever deny you?     “Yes,” he said finally. With that, Theseus picked you up with ease and carried you upstairs to the bedroom. Newt followed behind and once Theseus placed you on the bed he began fully stripping himself of his clothes. Newt followed his brother’s actions, closing the door behind him and peeling off his shirt and pants. You watched them under the candlelight, admiring the two beautiful brothers and their different bodies.     You’d seen Theseus naked a hundred times before but it never ceased to excite you. He was large in every sense of the word. He was tall and had a wide, muscular chest with strong arms and thighs to match. Newt’s body was new and different. Newt was tall as well, only a couple inches shorter than his older brother. Surprisingly, Newt was more muscular and lean. His abs were more pronounced and taut in comparison. Both brothers were freckled, the younger of the two having more of them with accompanying scars. They were beautiful. Having two gorgeous men naked in front of you made you feel nervous and self-conscious. Without realizing it, you had pulled your dress up to cover your body. But Theseus was having none of that.     He crawled over to you on the bed, moving your hands and pulling your dress back down to your waist. Newt sat on the bed as well and pulled the dress down the rest of the way, discarding it on the floor. Theseus trailed kisses up your stomach, chest, neck, and face until he reached your lips. He kissed you passionately and tenderly, reaching for your right hand to intertwine his fingers with yours while Newt peppered soft kisses up your legs and thighs. Their attempt at relaxing you and distracting you from your thoughts worked, and you melded with them both.     “Theseus...” you whispered against his lips because you knew how much he liked hearing it. He shushed you, pecking the corners of your lips.     “Just relax, darling,” he muttered. His hand left yours to grab your thigh, spreading your legs apart.     Newt’s kisses lingered on your inner thigh, nipping, sucking, and biting the sensitive flesh. You trembled under their touch, not sure what to expect next. Theseus hovered over you on your right, covering you with kisses and massaging your breasts while Newt neared dangerously close to your core.     “Such a sweet girl,” Theseus said between kisses.     “I wonder if she tastes just as sweet,” said Newt.     “She does,” Theseus confirmed. “But you’ll just have to taste for yourself.”     The sudden feeling of Newt’s warm tongue licking a licentious stripe along your heat made you gasp. He kissed and sucked on your lower lips, occasionally darting his tongue in and out of your entrance. He licked up and down your dripping cunt before finally swirling his tongue around your clit. Your hips bucked and twitched as he drew figure-eights with his tongue over your sensitive bud. Theseus held your right leg while Newt held down your left, ensuring you kept your legs open for them.    “F-fuck, Newt,” you sighed and closed your eyes, resting your head back into the fluff of the pillow.     Theseus was sucking the skin at the crook of your neck, determined to leave a mark. His hand on your thigh trailed closer and closer to your center until his skilled fingers reached your entrance under Newt's chin. He easily slid his longest digit inside and curled it upwards, instantly finding that spot he knew so well. He pumped his finger in and out, making sure to brush against your g-spot. Soon he added another finger and quickened his pace. Between Newt’s assault on your clit and Theseus’s fingers deep inside you, you were ambushed by another orgasm. White flashed behind your eyes and your hips spasmed. Newt sucked on your clit and Theseus vigorously fingered your hole as you rode out your high until you became too sensitive to touch and begged them to stop.     “No, no, no, baby,” Theseus muttered in your ear. “We can’t stop now,” he said. “We haven't ‘fucked you within an inch of your life’ yet.” You could hear the smirk in his voice. They weren't done with you yet.     Newt came up from between your legs and kissed you, letting you taste yourself on his lips. “Can you taste it?” he asked. “Your sweetness. I can’t get enough of it. I don’t think I ever will.”     Your lips chased his, wanting him to kiss you deeper. You were sandwiched between the two men, Theseus at your back, and Newt before you. You felt Theseus’s cock press flush against your ass while Newt's poked between your legs.     “Are you ready for us, darling?” Theseus asked as he nibbled at your ear.     “Yes,” you answered against Newt’s lips before he slid his tongue back down your throat.     Being as gentle as they could, the two brothers eased their cocks inside of you, introducing you to a whole new sensation. You had never been stretched out like this, with two cocks filling your holes at once. It was strange and slightly uncomfortable at first. They knew this, which is why they took their time, distracting you with their mouths and whispering sweet nothings in your ear, and ensuring you were okay.     “You’re doing so well,” they’d say.     “You feel so good.”     “You’re so wonderful, darling.”     “Are we hurting you, sweetheart?”     “Relax for us, my love.”     Theseus’s hand once again found your clit and he began lightly circling it with his fingers to give you some relief. It didn't take long for it to work and your body opened up for them with ease. They pushed deeper inside, inch by inch until they were fully sheathed in your flesh. They both whispered their own set of curses, letting out soft grunts and moans as they began slowly rocking their hips into you.     “Fuuuck,” Theseus moaned. “This ass is so fucking tight. You’re being so good for us, darling.”     “So, so good, love,” panted Newt. “You make us feel so good.”     Your high-pitched mewls and pretty sighs were like music to their ears. They completely engulfed you, body and soul. The world simply slipped away and nothing else mattered besides them, Theseus and Newt, making you feel better than you had ever felt before. You couldn't get enough of them, nor could they get enough of you. You were intoxicated by their scent, their bodies, and their moans. In your minds, you all tried to comprehend how lucky you all were to be in this moment. Nothing could be better than this. Nothing.     “This is it, isn't it?” Theseus panted in your ear. “Your secret. You’ve always wanted this. To have your holes stretched out by our cocks. Does it excite you, my darling, fucking two brothers? One just wasn't enough, was it? You had to have both. Well, now you have it. Now you’re taking our cocks like the good little girl you are, just like you wanted because we decided to give it to you. You should thank us. Go on and thank us, darling. Tell us how much you appreciate being filled up and fucked, blinded by your own pleasure.”     “T-th...Thank you,” you choked out, tears brimming your waterline. “Thank you so much! I wanted this. I always wanted this!”     “Good girl,” Newt praised, pressing a kiss on your forehead. “Such a good, good, girl for us. We’re glad to give it to you...Whatever you want, y/n. Whatever you want—a-ah!”      Newt’s thrusts got faster and sloppier, as did Theseus’s. They both worked hard to bury themselves deep inside you. It came to a point where both their cocks were brushing against your g-spot, one after the other. You felt the knot in your core again, that delicious, evanescent knot tightening, ticking like a bomb about to explode and send you to your euphoric escape.     “Oh, God!” You gasped, digging your nails into the skin of Newt’s back and Theseus’s thighs. “Don’t stop! P-please...right there! S-Shit, I love you!” You proclaimed. “Both of you. God, I love both of you so much!”     This seemed to excite them even more, something you didn't know was possible. They thrust into you faster than they ever had before, their winded breaths filling your ears.     “I love you,” Newt breathed. “So...so much...More than anything.” He kissed your lips.     “I love you too, darling,” grunted Theseus. “My sweet girl...Always.” He kissed your lips too.     In that moment the three of you bonded, body and soul. You all came at once, their bodies falling flush against you, twitching in satisfaction. For a while you just lay there as they held you and listened to the sound of their breaths while you waited for the sweet, buzzing feeling to dim. When it did, Theseus got up to fetch a towel from the bathroom, leaving you and Newt cuddled up on the bed, whispering sweetly to one another. They helped clean you up and embraced you with their warmth. You just stared at them, sharing kisses, twirling hair, giggling, holding hands, and gazing lovingly into their eyes. There wasn't much to say. You all knew. You didn’t need to say it. You could feel it in the room. You were complete.     “Do you smell something burning?” Theseus asked suddenly. You and Newt sniffed the air and your eyes widened like saucers.    “THE FUCKING TURKEY!” You gasped, and struggled your way out from between your two lovers, picking one of their shirts from off the floor to cover yourself as you ran downstairs to save what was left of your forgotten Christmas dinner.     Newt and Theseus smiled to themselves and chuckled. There was an awkward silence as they lay there alone, both unsure of what to say or do next.     “I do know how lucky I am, by the way.” Theseus was the first to speak.     “I know,” said Newt.     Theseus turned to his brother. “You can be lucky too...If you want.”     Newt blinked, not fully believing he’d heard what he thought he heard.     “She loves you,” said Theseus.     “She loves you too,” Newt reminded him.     “I know. And we both love her.”     “And we both love her.”      It was as simple as that.     “Thank you, Theseus,” said Newt.     Theseus scoffed and playfully pushed Newt’s shoulder.     “Happy Christmas, Newt.”     “Happy Christmas, Theseus.”

[nnight-dances]

FADE INTO YOU ˚₊☆ ‧₊˚

[a sequel to REPETITION / RARE LOVE]

Mingyu, your best friend turned lover, is possibly the best thing that's happened to you. But as you juggle a rigorous summer internship and pressure from home, you start to spiral. Overworked and isolated, you're spiraling and the cherry on top: you overhear Mingyu say some things that have you convinced he's tired of you. Fighting takes on a different meaning now that you aren't just a couple of besties and heartache is possibly inevitable.

PAIRING: kim mingyu x fem!reader

GENRE: angst, fluff, some suggestive content toward the end

TROPES: unhealthy working habits, miscommunication or rather lack of communication, mean mother, hurt/comfort question mark, you're on your period as well as sick at one point, arguing and conflict :/

WORD COUNT: 6.5k approximately

"So, how's it going with Mingyu?" 

"It is…" you trail off as you poke at the discarded pizza crust on your plate, "...going well."

Yunjin's smile retracts at your hesitant pause. "What's wrong?"

"I never said anything was wrong. On the contrary, if you were listening to what I just said–"

"That pause was at least three seconds long. Three seconds, Y/N! That's the first sign!"

You frown, "The first sign of what?"

"A fight. You're fighting with Mingyu, aren't you?"

"I mean, fighting is what we do. Most of our relationship is based on the other's ability to be a witty bastard." You scoff uneasily. "I think we'd be in trouble if we weren't fighting." 

"You and I both know that's not what I meant," Yunjin sighs at your antics. "I'm talking about a real fight."

"...No. We're fine, Yunjin, you're worrying over nothing."

Though she drops the topic thereafter, you can tell by the way she bids you goodbye, leaving with a sneaky "make up with Mingyu before it's too late!!!" that she's not convinced. On the ride back home, you stare at your phone as you go over the conversation again and again. Biting your lip, you wonder why Yunjin had been inclined to think that you were fighting with Mingyu in the first place, anyway.

The thought, though not unsurprising, was a little out of place in your head. 

Truth be told, all isn't well with you.

You'd been having a couple of rough weeks and it had a lot to do with the fact that you'd chosen to not go back home for the summer, choosing to stay in your college town to pursue an internship there instead. While the internship itself was overwhelming at times, at the end of the day, you felt more fulfilled than ever. However, the consequences of you not visiting your family had you rubbing your temples more often than not every time you fielded a call from one of your parents. 

And though you'd told them that the only reason you weren't back home was your internship, there was more to it than that. For one, as much you missed basking in the attention of your parents and showering your sweet dog with love, you also were actively avoiding the suffocation of home: the prying questions about your future career, the insanely invasive relatives who would no doubt leave snide remarks in their wake, and of course, everyone's reactions to your best friend to lovers arc with Kim Mingyu. 

You'd been renting a place with Mingyu over these few months because he, too, had decided to stay back to take a summer class and study in advance for some difficult courses next semester. Most days, it was everything you'd wanted: waking up to a warm bed and the sound of Mingyu snoring into your neck, slow breakfasts cooked mostly by Mingyu while you clung to his waist, and long days at the desk in front of your computer. Well, the last part wasn't ideal but every time your supervisor assigned you a new, more advanced task, you couldn't help but feel proud of yourself. 

However, some days weren't as dreamy as you'd hoped they would be. To begin with, the past week had you waking up with heavy eyelids, perhaps something to do with the late nights you'd been pulling to finish your work, and an empty bed. Mingyu's class had started meeting earlier thanks to the heat in the afternoons, which meant you were left to fend for yourself during breakfast. Head heavy, you'd drag yourself to eat some sloppy cereal and get to work: somewhat manageable of a day. 

But today as you're swirling through your bowl of muesli to pick out some raisins, your phone buzzes on the table. If the sudden sound doesn't startle you, the name on the screen definitely has your heart beating a little bit faster: it's your mother. You're already dreading the conversation. 

"Hello?" 

"Did you just wake up?" comes your mother's voice, her tone already hostile. Great. 

"Um, yeah, I woke up like half an hour ago. Why?"

"...Nothing. It's just I thought you were really busy with classes."

"Mom, I've told you it's not class, it's an internship. Two very different things." You inhale deeply to calm yourself. When she asks you if you've eaten, you tell her you're currently having some muesli. Ignoring the scoff that she lets out, you ask her about her day, a question that she gives her usual vague answer to. You try to engage with her rationally, intent on getting some cordial connection with her.

But honestly, it's no use, your mother's set on picking you apart today and so she does, especially when you let it slide that Mingyu's at class. 

"In class? Already? Y/N, you should learn a thing or two from him. Just because you're dating him doesn't mean you can slack off like this, okay? I don't want to see you become lazy over some man. I don't care how rich–"

You cut her off, afraid of what you might have to hear if you didn't. "Mom. I can't believe you're making this a competition! I'm not making an enemy out of my boyfriend because you want me to."

Your stomach lurches at how high-pitched your voice sounds to your own ears, vision blurring somewhere along the way. "Fine. If you're gonna scream at me every time I call you, I might as well stop." 

"Mom–" She hangs up before you can say anything else, leaving you staring at the fading screen with her contact photo on it. It was a picture of the two of you, with you grinning as she leaned in to peck your cheek. It was maybe one of your favorite photos, especially when you came to associate it with phone calls with your mother, something that used to be a comfort amidst the chaos of your life. Now, you weren't so sure as you rested your forehead against the wooden table, eyes swimming with unshed tears. You blink them away, swallowing hard against the lump in your throat, because despite everything, you didn't have the time to cry over this. 

So slowly, you pick yourself, wiping at your cheeks. You move on in your day, washing your dishes as well as Mingyu's from earlier this morning. You shower, and pat your face with skincare, find a shirt that doesn't remind you of home, and take a seat at your workstation in the living room. Headphones on your ears, the reminder of your fight with your mother slowly fades away as you begin working. 

Despite everything, you found yourself thinking later that afternoon as you refilled your water bottle, you were so grateful for Mingyu and the stability that he brought you, whether it be as a friend or as a roommate. It was with this reliance on him that you pushed yourself through the day. So when he came back from class, more sullen than usual, you find yourself instantly unsettled.

"Gyu?" you call out, removing your headphones when the jingling of keys catches your attention. The big guy stoops in the hallway, removing his shoes and outerwear before stepping in. He makes eye contact and the soft smile he shoots you, you can tell, is forced. You're standing up, "Hey, you're late today. Everything okay?"

"Not at all. Prof kept us back late to throw extra credit stuff at us. It's ridiculous but I needed it, so I stayed back." You nod in understanding as you walk to him in the kitchen, watching as he washes his hand and pours himself cold water. "It was worst though, babe, I kept falling asleep."

You match the pout on his lips when he finally meets you at the kitchen counter, hands finding your waist as you press yourself into him. "Hmm, sorry to hear that, Gyu. Did you not sleep much last night?"

"No, it's real weird. I kept waking up in the middle of the night. And every position I slept in was so uncomfortable. Plus, I kept thinking I was gonna wake you up on accident."

"Ha, and since when have you cared about my sleep?" you chuckle into his chest, "Just wake me up next time and we can have hot cocoa or something."

Mingyu hums in appreciation around you, "I'll make you regret that offer tonight."

You hit him when you separate, eyes trailing back to your workspace and Mingyu catches on as his hands tighten around ever so slightly. Eyes desperate, he asks, "You wanna watch a movie tonight? I can order some fried chicken." 

You light up momentarily and then are instantly reminded of the deadline that awaits you in a few days. Mingyu notices you stiffen a little and you sigh. "I have that stupid report due on Friday, Gyu," you whine.

"Can't you take a break for a while? You've been working so hard lately." Mingyu brushes your hair back, his thumb rubbing at your jaw gently. "You deserve some time off." When you seem to remain in your rumination period, Mingyu presses a peck on your lips. "Please?"

You groan as you playfully push him away, "God, I hate it when you're physically affectionate as a way to entice me into doing things with you."

"So movie night's on?"

"...Are you ordering the chicken or should I?"

"Hehe, I love you."  

"Ew, stop, Gyu, go take a shower!!"

As you steer Mingyu toward your shared bedroom, you make your way back to your desk, invigorated by the promise you've made to Mingyu to finish as much as you can for tonight. The motivation's enough to push you into the zone as you go through your notes and begin typing away. 

You don't realize how much time's passed until you feel Mingyu's cold hands press against your collarbones. You jump at the sudden touch but groan in familiarity as fingers gingerly find your scalp before you can scold him for surprising you. 

But then you look at the time and curse under your breath, "Fuck, I forgot to order the–"

"It's okay, I ordered fifteen minutes ago. It'll be here in ten."

You kiss Mingyu's knuckle apologetically, "Thanks, babe. I'll let you choose the movie for tonight."

"Really?" he squeals, and you guffaw at the way he flaps his arms around excitedly, making his way to the couch and TV. "Oh my God, this is so sudden. I need to see if they have all the Nancy Meyers movies on Netflix– Or wait, I could pirate it– Or wait, what about our subscription to– Oh no, I forgot to pay the–" 

You slowly turn back around as your boyfriend busies himself with picking a movie for the night and your head throbs as you look at your screen, feeling guilty about ditching the work that awaited you. But then, you tune back into the rambling Mingyu in your living room and you can't help but care more about sitting in your boyfriend's arms with fried chicken crumbs all over your lap. 

And that's what you find yourself doing half an hour later. It's a little bit concerning how focused on the movie– The Holiday, Mingyu had finally chosen– so much so that you have to keep pushing him to eat as well. At one point he chokes on some chicken and you have to pat his back real hard to make sure he stays alive. 

"Are you sure you're trying to keep me alive because–" Cough, "you're going really hard, babe."

You laugh as he returns to normal and push a glass of water toward him, "Of course, big guy, I wouldn't be able to pay rent if you died so keeping you alive makes top 3 on my to-do list."

"Top three? What's more important than keeping me alive?"

"First of all, rude. Second of all – duh, keeping myself alive. That's second on my to-do list."

"Y/N," Mingyu starts warningly, "Please don't tell me number one on your to-do list is to video-record me screaming at that one Youtube video of scary ghost sounds."

"No! Obviously not, Gyu."

"..."

"It was to record you crying over a video of babies saying their first words."

"Aww, come on, Y/N! You know how I feel about that! It's like their lives have begun when they start speaking! They're all alone in this big world!! And don't even get me started when their first words are a parent's name– That's like endgame right there!!!"

Eventually, the two of you manage to get back on track when it came to actually watching the movie – except, you don't. Admittedly, once you've both finished your food and settled in to focus on the television screen, you find your mind wandering. And while once that would've meant something entirely NSFW, thanks to your long hours, you find yourself thinking about work. The work that's sitting right there on your desk that you can see, just sitting there in the darkness, all tangible and full of consequences behind the TV.  And once you start thinking, there's no stopping it and before you know it, you're all up in your head. 

So much so that you're brought back to earth when Mingyu pauses the movie and stares you donw in silence. It takes you a moment but then you bite your lip as you meet his gaze, feeling like you'd been caught red-handed cheating on him. And well, the way he looked at you in disappointment, you might as well have been. 

"Y/N, you've been looking at your desk longingly for the past ten minutes."

You really don't have anything to say for yourself except, "I'm really sorry, Gyu."

He sighs at your quick admission of guilt and you hate the way he peels his arm of your shoulder. "It's okay, if you need to work, you can go work."

"No, but we're watching a movie–"

"There's no point to it if you're distracted."

"I'm sorry, I won't think about work, promise."

"No, no, it's okay, babe," Mingyu reassures you, hand finding your shoulders, rubbing circles into it as you look back at him in dismay, "I'm serious, I don't want to keep you from completing your work. We can finish watching the movie later, alright?"

You deflate a little, "Okay. But I promise I'll make it up to you, okay, Gyu?"

Your boyfriend simply smiles at you and the sight makes you regret ever making him pause the movie when you could've been cuddling into his warmth instead. But he's so sweet when he kisses your cheek, "Don't worry about it, my love." 

The next few days find you absolutely swamped because where you'd thought things would get better slowly, they only got worse. Your internship was more stressful than ever as you found yourself going later and later into the night to keep up with the tasks assigned to you. The report was coming along slower than you'd like. But while you could do something about those things, there were things that felt completely out of your reach. 

For one, you'd been ignoring your mother's calls, a measure you'd taken to protect your fragile mental state. Each time you'd send her quick but cold text saying something along the lines of I'm too busy to talk right now. You felt bad every time you left her hanging but it was undeniable that you felt slightly less deranged in the monrings without her daily check-in. 

But there was also the situation with Mingyu. Ever since movie night, you'd only spent lesser time with him, to the point that even getting to sleep in the same bed at him counted as a win for you. Even when he would come back around lunch but you'd be too busy working to notice and dinners were usually just the two of you talking back and forth about your days. 

At dinner, he seemed fine, answering your questions about class enthusiastically and listening to your own responses eagerly. But you'd notice the way he'd be quick to clear the table once you were both done eating, not even taking the chance to ask you to watch a movie or talk more with him. And though it stung right through your heart, the fact that you couldn't afford to take the initiative yourself left you no choice but to watch as he retired to the bedroom for the night. 

Which is when you come back from that lunch with Yunjin, your head's reeling. Were Mingyu and you fighting? Could you be? It didn't feel like a fight, it was a lot more nonverbal. More subtle. She'd asked you if things were okay and they weren't, but it's also not like they were terrible. They were just worse than okay. 

But Thursday night came around, and you were closer than ever to finish that godforsaken report and head into a much-needed weekend off. Feeling a little cheery in anticipation of all the free time you'd have, you thought you might take a break and ask if Mingyu to get late night ice-cream, an offer you knew he would never turn down. 

However, you're about to enter the room where Mingyu's said he's going go "rot while watching life-sucking short-form media content" (his own words from two hours ago) when you hear his low voice, presumably on the phone. 

"...yeah, man, I don't know, it's getting pretty bad.."

You freeze instantly, your guts lurching as they tell you this conversation probably has something to do with you. Before you can feel bad about eavesdropping or consider the possibility that you're only projecting, Mingyu goes on–

"Of course I've told her! Or at least, I've tried to tell her. I keep trying to get her to leave the house for something other than grocery runs… but it's no use. I kinda gave up after that." He sighs heavily and you hear the sheets shuffle, probably as he turns to his other side, voice now muffled. 

Your fists are at your sides, tight but shaky as you take in what he's saying, both in shock but also in acknowledgment. 

"It's hard for me, too, yeah, I guess. I miss her… non-overburdened self. I wish I could end the stress somehow…"

His voice gets harder to hear at that point or maybe you stop listening– it's hard to tell with the flood of thoughts in your head by then. You detach from the bedroom door and your legs drag you to your desk. You feel yourself sit but mentally, you're still outside the room, hearing Mingyu's honest thoughts for the first time in a week. Honestly, you ought to have seen it coming, with your one-track mind and his tendency to keep things to himself. 

I kinda gave up after that point… You know he's referring to getting you around to a healthier work schedule and still, you can't help but think of the words more generally. Like, in the context of your relationship and well– it was all dominoes anyway, right? One thing after another. Today, it was you neglecting spending time with Mingyu over your internship, tomorrow, what if he's giving up on you and your inability to prioritize? 

You take in a deep breath to steady yourself, feeling your thoughts get out of control. But they don't let up, Mingyu's words ringing in your head loud and clear. He wanted to end the stress– you were causing him stress. You lean into your chair and look up at the ceiling, stomach uneasily swirling. 

No, you tell yourself, you couldn't go based off a snippet of a conversation you eavesdropped on. Besides, Mingyu had every right to be tired of your work ethic and there was nothing you could do except try to get better at it. Slowly, you bring yourself to stare at your screen, plans to take an ice-cream break long abandoned.

A small part of you rationalized that it was already past one and starting tomorrow might be a better idea, but the larger and much more emotional part of you could only hear Mingyu's worn-out voice in the deep of night, and you know you can't stop till you're done.

…And that's how it's nearly six in the morning by the time you pick yourself off your chair. Good news: you've finished one of the biggest reports you'd submit during your internship, which meant you could take a few days off. Bad news: working an all-nighter on top of your sleep-deprived state meant you were barely functioning as you hauled yourself to bed.

More bad news: in your delirious state, you don't make it to the bedroom and pass out on the couch. 

Three hours later, Mingyu wakes up to a cold pillow next to his and sits up faster than he's ever before, mind racing as he calls out for you. Going to sleep to an empty bed, he was used to, but waking up to one was new for him. Every morning, it was to your peaceful sleeping figure he'd open his eyes to, without a mistake. It was the one constant that he was holding on to every morning. So yeah, he's pretty panicked when he finds you passed out cold on the couch. 

He debates why you might've slept on the couch instead of the bed and almost wakes you up because he can't stand the thought that he might've been the reason why. But he stops himself when he hears you snore quietly and instead presses a hand to your cheek lovingly– only to find you burning up. 

"Fuck." 

Fuck is right because when you finally come to, around two hours later, your body feels like a rock and not at all in a zen way. More so, in the way that every time you move, a shriek rips itself from your throat. Speaking of your throat, it's literally never been this dry. When you manage to sit up in bed and take a sip of the water that's conveniently placed next to you–

You half-choke on the liquid in your throat as you realize your surroundings. You didn't remember going to bed last night but then you spot the note on your side. It's from Mingyu.

Y/N: YOU WERE PASSED OUT ON THE COUCH LIKE AN IDIOT. YOU ALSO HAVE A FEVER. CAN U EAT THE PORRIDGE IN THE FRIDGE AFTER HEATING IT UP? I WILL BE BACK BY 3, HAVE A STUPID WORKSHEET TO TURN IN TODAY :( 

And then, in smaller writing:

we'll talk when i get back, okay?

[PS: please be alive when i come back or trust, i will make u pay rent from your grave]

You laugh at his note, the scrawny letters ever so characteristic of him, but immediately regret it when your headache makes its presence known. You groan as you get out of bed. The morning only seems to get more painful as you nurse your burnout-induced fever. Because the universe has perfectly timed your period to start today. So that's already two kinds of pains you're fighting in bed, when your phone rings a little too loud for your liking.

You don't who else you expect: it's your mother. And this is probably not a good time to hear her voice, not when you weren't on good terms, but the combination of your period and a fever has left you more emotionally vulnerable than ever and you find yourself craving her love.

Except you should've known better because when you answer the phone in a weak voice, muttering a "Hi," she's already snapping at you. "Took you long enough to stop ghosting your own mother!"

"Sorry, Mom, I was just… really busy with work. But I'm–"

"Why do you sound like that?" she sounds concerned and the indication of worry has you feeling a little warm despite everything. So you let it slip that you're sick. And where you'd thought you'd receive consolation and cooing, your mother's only reprimanding you: "Great. Now you've gotten yourself sick. You can't even take yourself, can you? When will you grow up, Y/N?"

You barely hold the sob that escapes your lungs at her harsh criticism and she catches on: "Are you crying? Y/N, you're such a kid–" And that's it, you give up. Silently, you hang up on your mother but instead of watching her contact photo fade, you throw your phone away from you in despair and hear as it lands on the floor with a crash. 

And God, everything might've hurt like hell before but now that you're crying, it's so much worse, you think you're going to die. But painful or not, the nasty crying actually feels good when it's out of your system and you think your fever might even be clearing up by the time you hear the front door open, signalling Mingyu's return. 

You sit up in bed, tears long wiped and phone recovered from the floor, as Mingyu enters the room with careful steps. When he notices you awake, he relaxes and meets your eyes with a concerned frown. 

"Hi, Gyu," you greet him through a small smile. 

Mingyu's cautious, more so than you've ever seen him as he regards you from the door of your bedroom: "Hi, babe. Are you feeling better?"

You nod, "Much. Thanks for the porridge. It was disgustingly healing."

Mingyu approaches the bed now, but instead of the quick affection you thought you might receive, he only narrows his eyes at you. Damn it, what was it with your loved ones and just being nice to you for once? (It might have something to do with… like, the consequences of your actions but you don't want to think too hard right now). 

"Why…" Mingyu starts and his voice is unfamiliarly grave. You almost shiver because you must've fucked up big-time if Kim Mingyu's bringing up serious talk for the first time in your years-long relationship with him. "Did you sleep on the couch last night?"

You swallow against your throat, dry once again but for different reasons. "Um, funny story, I kinda passed out there last night… or this morning. But!" you quickly supply your mistake with, "I finished my report early so I have all of today and the weekend to just do nothing."

Once again, Mingyu's looking at you, face serious, not even a hint of a smile and Yunjin's words are returning to you. As much as you hate to admit it, maybe you are fighting with Mingyu and fuck, you hate it. 

"Are you seriously pretending like everything's okay, Y/N?"

Mingyu's words are like a slap across your face, except instead of sending you flying, you end up returning to his words the night before. It's hard for me, he'd said, and you feel the weight of your selfishness all at once, the doubts you'd gotten yourself sick over invading your mind once again. Your eyes fall to your hands.

"You've been working yourself like a dog, Y/N! And now you're sick! Does that make you happy?"

God, you hate the way he says your name like it's a bad word. Or worse, like you're a stranger. Everything he says is a reminder of the burden you've been to him. 

"I'm sorry," your voice is small and you raise your eyes to his– which is a mistake because you catch the hurt look on his face and fuck, you're tearing up. So much for getting it out of your system beforehand. "Fuck, I'm so sorry, Gyu."

Mingyu, on the other hand, is completely taken aback when you start shaking, hot tears streaming down your face rapidly. He'd been upset at your poor health and your mental condition the past few days, but he'd expected you to fight back; to defend your actions and to justify why you did what you did like you usually would. It'd be an intense going back and forth but the two of you would eventually fight it out.

But to see you break like this, fists wrapped tight around each other to the point of white– shit, he hadn't seen this coming.

The thing is you've both been on completely different wavelenghts for a while now. Where you've been plagued with self-doubt and guilt because of work, strained calls with family, and now, your fight with Mingyu; Mingyu's just been lonely. It didn't help that you weren't doing too much except small talk in your free time with him.

"Hey, baby, please, I'm– I didn't mean to make you cry. Please, you'll make yourself more sick."

You look up at him through tears in confusion, voice breaking, "You're… not mad at me?"

Mingyu frowns, "I am. But it doesn't mean I'll watch you cry yourself to death."

"God, I'm sorry, Gyu… I– I overheard you talking on the phone last night."

It takes him a moment to make sense of what you're saying but when his own conversation comes back to him, his heart's squeezing uncomfortably. "You heard me?" He feels guilt, regret, and hurt all at once. 

"I'm so sorry, Mingyu, I didn't mean to be such a bad girlfriend– heck, I was such a bad roommate this past week. And I'm sorry I was a burden to you when you have your own problems to deal with–"

Mingyu interrupts you when he crawls upto and places your face in his hands, forcing you to look up at him. His eyes are wide and you can visibly see the tears pricking there as he stares at you. "Y/N, the literal love of my life, what the actual fuck are you saying? You're not a burden to me. And what problems have you burdened with me when we barely talk about anything real these days?"

You purse your lips at the deserved call-out and Mingyu shakes you, "Babe, I wish you were more burdensome. I want to know everything that's worrying you. Please, I can't be there for you if I don't even know what demons you're fighting."

You blink away fresh tears at his genuine words. "I'm… on my period."

"Oh," breathes Mingyu, hands dropping to your shoulders, "Is it your first day?"

"Yes. And I've been fighting with my mom. My whole family maybe. But specifically her."

Mingyu wraps his arms fully around you this time. "God, I'm so sorry, Y/N. I had no idea you were having family problems. Is it because you didn't go back home?" When he feels you slowly nod against him, he says, "That sucks. But did you tell them how hard you've been working at this internship?"

"Mhmm, but my mom still thinks I won't ever be as good as you."

Mingyu pulls away at that, "Me? You talk to your mom about me? Wait, no, I mean, why does she think that?"

You contain a smile, "She knows you have summer school and that you go to class at nine. That's much more admirable than stupid little me who wakes up at eleven and eats cereal for breakfast. And then I went and got sick. So now she also thinks I can't take care of myself."

"...I think she might be right about that last part," Mingyu tells you with a pointed look and you push him away with a broken sigh. 

"I know, but you know what really gets my goat, Gyu? That you were dishing about me to someone else instead of calling me out to my face. If I was being a little bitch, I would rather you tell me. I don't want you to bottle it up and end up feeling resentful toward me."

"Hold on a minute, where is this coming from? Who said anything about you being a little bitch? If anything, you were a really massive bitch but only to yourself. I could tell that you felt bad about not spending time with me. But I wasn't ever resentful, I was just… lonely. I meant what I told Shua last night: I just miss you! And doing things with you..."

You scan his face for signs of any dishonesty but it's the same handsome but honest face that stares back at you. You lean into him until your forehead bumps against his chest, partly to feel his warmth again and partly to hide the tears that bubble out again. "Sorry. I was just. I was so scared that you were gonna want to break up with me."

Almost instantaneously, Mingyu's grip is on you, stronger than usual so that it actually hurts as he pulls you away. "What?" he asks in disbelief, "Are you genuinely insane. I'm going to need you to never say those words again. Please. Don't bring the possibility of that into existence or I will have to hurl myself back into my mother's womb."

You find yourself half-laughing and half-crying at his hysteric concern, entertained but also so incredibly relieved that Mingyu hates the thought of leaving you as much you do.

While you don't say anything and simply travel the territory between laughter and tears, Mingyu is genuinely losing it: "No, Y/N, I don't think you understand. That is simply not on the table. We've been dating for like, three months? I have so many things I want to do with you, okay? So if you're having these thoughts, throw them the fuck out because I'm going to actually pass away."

You finally break and shut Mingyu up with a kiss– a real kiss, and only pull away to mumble, "It's been a while, boyfriend. I love you so much it hurts."

You're only a little shocked when Mingyu sniffles, because you'd felt his cheeks dampen halfway through the kiss. His hand finds the back of your neck, keeping your lips a breath away from his. "Stupid girlfriend. Thinks she can play with my feelings and then kiss her way through a sorry." But he kisses you again anyway and you kiss him back with equal passion, convincing him enough to stop his crying.

"God, we must both look like shit right now," you giggle when you pull away, running a finger across his red cheeks. "Sorry I made you cry."

"I love you," Mingyu replies, "And if you ever overwork yourself to the point of sickness again, I will hurt you." 

"The way we talk is concerning to me sometimes. It sounds like we're… married or something. As if we're not literal college students. And as if you're not the biggest coward ever."

"Not sure why you felt the need to say that last thing but– Wasn't it Kazuha who said we were like her parents sometimes? We could live-stream our fights and market them as childhood nostalgia for kids around the world."

You can't keep your laughter in at his plan, but hit his arm anyway to let him know where you stood. "Damn it, Kim Mingyu, that's it, I'm going to call Zuha and tell her to block you as soon as she can." 

"But before I do that, can we go back to being irresponsible, unmarried young adults in love and order take-out for dinner? Please?"

Mingyu's grinning already, and you want to pick him up and pocket him for how adorable he can be but resort to gazing at him with hearts for eyes as he declares, "Of course, love, what do you wanna eat tonight?"

"You can decide. I'll go wash up in the meantime."

"Wait, I'll come with, I need to shower, too."

Now things start to get better. You settle into a comfortable silence with Mingyu, and as you snuggle next to him, you let the scent of him overwhelm you with a giddy smile. The food in your plate is warm and Mingyu is giggly as you finally finish watching The Holiday, and for once, your period cramps are merciful, for the pain of laughter brewing in your stomach is far more intense.

And the pain of love, as you watch Mingyu put away the leftovers from dinner and clean up the kitchen for the night. You'd volunteered to do the dishes but he simply pushed you into a chair at the kitchen table with a soft sigh and honestly, you're not complaining. He's better at doing them anyway.

In the dim glow of the quiet kitchen light, Mingyu's all soft edges, so careful as he wipes the damp plate you'd shared just a few minutes ago and the look in his eyes is loving when he finally makes his way back to you, asking if you'd like to head to bed now.

For the next few days, it's so easy to forget about time because you find yourself talking it away in Mingyu's arms, fighting the urge to kiss him every time he guffaws at something you say. But you also let him drag you out of the house, a real date in the city, both of you dressed up and blushy under the lamplights as you walk back from dinner. 

Wine-drunk, Mingyu stops you outside the front-door to the apartment and leans down to peck your cheek. The modest action has you all flustered and you let out an embarassed huff. "What are you kissing me good-night for?" you ask, more amused than you are confused. 

Mingyu's eyes twinkle in response, head clearly wrapped around some new plot. "I said I'd walk you home. This is home. You should head inside first." 

You laugh when he stands with his hands politely clasped in front of him, catching on to the bit. Only Kim Mingyu would think to pretend to be a shy first date dropping you off home, as if you hadn't known each other for as long as you'd known to love. 

"Ah, I didn't even realize we reached home. Such a shame," you cheekily step closer to him, one hand brushing against his crossed arms, "Do you want to come inside? We can… do things."

Mingyu breaks character with a toothy grin at that, "You're so bad at this!"

"What?" you ask in feigned offense, "I'm inviting you inside!"

"Yeah, but to "do things"? Is that really how you've been flirting with your first dates, babe? Actually, no, don't answer that– Unless? There's no way that works, right? Or do you just charm your way through the awkwardness– No, but that's just–"

"Okay, now you're rambling, big guy," you hook an arm around his and pull him inside after you. "Come on inside, we have things to do."

"Hmm, and these things…" Mingyu hums with an undertone of mischief, his arms sneaking around your waist already, "...they wouldn't include getting naked and um, cuddling?"

"Gross, Gyu! I was offering to watch a movie but– You're such a creepy little pervert– Ha– AGH, Okay, okay, okay, sorry, I'll stop! You can drop the threatening sock now please– NO, DON'T YOU DARE THROW IT AT ME, KIM MINGYU–" 

The next day, you're sure to call Yunjin up, who picks up with a heavy groan and before she can curse you out for waking her, you ask her if she wants to get lunch. "Gyu's coming, too, if that's okay?" Yunjin pauses. And then: "Ugh. So you guys finally made up? Thank God. I was getting tired of the passive aggressive texts from Joshua about you and Mingyu. Speaking of which, can I invite Joshua? He'll shut up if he sees you two in love in person."

– 

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

i tried to preserve the best friend banter dynamic but given that they were fighting, it was a liltle hard. idk i can't tell if this is any good but it's something! i promise to proof-read later.... probably... anyway, ... thank you for reading and i love reading any feedback slash reviews in the tags so pls do let me know <3 lots of love to my friends and foes!!!! bye.

[thefandomdirtymind]

The Haircut

OPLA - Vinsmoke Sanji

Sequel : The Small Favor (18+)

Sanji / OPLA Masterlist and Coming Soon 

* English is not my first language, I tried really hard to correct myself but, I hope you will excuse me if some mistakes are still there.

—

Sanji was in a weird mood.

Not that it was affecting his food,delicious like always, or the easy conversation you usually have after breakfast around a strong cup of coffee. But, even from your seat at the far corner of the table, your book abandoned at the benefit of your curiosity, you could see that something was bothering the cook.

Busy at chopping vegetables for a future meal, his face a total mask of concentration you hadn’t seen on him for something as easy, you heard him sigh of frustration as he passed a hand on his blond lock. His hair that you had often joked that you could easily make a fortune of, as much they look like golden filaments. His hair, which now was long enough to reach his chin.  

“ Sanji ? “ You advanced, not wanting to irritate him more if your deduction was wrong. After all, his mood could be affected by a lot of things, starting by waking up from the wrong side of the bed to Luffy stealing an item prepared especially for the supper of the next day. “ Isn’t your hair aren’t becoming a little bit long ?”

Putting his knife down, giving you all his attention, he offered you a smile that didn't exactly reach his eyes. 

“ Indeed sweetheart, when I was at Baratie, Zeff would call a barber for the whole crew since we were cut for most of the civilisation. With luck, sometimes, one of the new cooks or waiters was an old barber.But on this ship, I didn’t realize it could become a problem. Then, here I am already incommode with the curtain of my hair and it’s starting to play with my nerves. “

“ I can cut them for you if you want “ You offer, closing your book for good. Helping your favorite crew member was way more interesting. “ I’m not a pro, of course, but I gave some haircuts to the kid in my village and they never complained.”

“ I wouldn’t bother you, it just irritates me when my vision is as obstructed.” He hesitated. 

“ Sanji, I offer it. “ You smile, knowing way too well how the tall man loves to care for others,but rarely asks for anything other than help to charge his grocery shopping “ I have nothing more to do than read that book and trust me, it can wait. But, I will not force you, if you don’t want me to cut your hair.We still can use hair pins until we reach an island with a city” 

“ No darling,it’s okay, I trust you “ He replied, a true smile on his lips.

“ Ok, then I will go take my scissors and I will come back.” You said, leaving the kitchen. 

When you came back, Sanji had been busy. A single chair had been put aside in the best light angle, some towels were aligned on the counter and the broom was waiting in his corner. 

“Will you need something else ? “ Sanji asked. 

“ No it’s perfect, thank you “ You confirmed “ If you’re ready, take place and I will do the rest okay ? “

Nodding of the head, the blond sits, letting you work. 

As you expected, the hair of Sanji was clean and soft under your touch. Passing your fingers into his hair, trying to determine where to cut and how much. You often saw him close his eyes, with a pleasant smile, clearly enjoying the sensation of your hands through his locks. Repressing the need to tease him, you carefully made the first chop. 

Reaching the front part of his hair, you gently cut his bang, millimeter by millimeter,  trying as much as possible to stay focused and not meet his soft but, also burning, gaze on you.

“ Sanji, if you continue to look at me like that you will finish with less hair than you expected “ You warned, cutting the straws between your fingers at the right length. 

“ I’m sorry, if I distract you, I just didn’t notice how pretty your eyes were…” He softly replied, his flirty tone present but underneath a new awe you had rarely heard from him. “ It's just that we never had the chance to see our faces so up close aren’t we ? “

“ Never had the occasion, it’s true “ You said, adjusting the cut around his ears. Of course due to his nature, Sanji had always kind of flirted with you and since you knew that said nature, you didn’t take it personally. So with time, it became a great friendship. But, here, at only a few inches of his face, you couldn’t say that all your thoughts were totally friendly. 

“ I maybe should have tried harder “ He flirted, giving you this playful smile you like that much. 

Lightly laughing, you finished the last touch, doing the last check by passing your fingers through his hair one last time, before putting down your scissors. 

“Hello Handsome” You flirted back, intending as being more a tease than an actual line. But as you were arranging his hair in his usual hair style. You caught his eyes still focused on you, and the interesting blush effect that your innocent greeting to his freshly former self had caused. 

“ Hello coeur en sucre * “ He replied softly, as much unsure as you if the palpable tension of your accidental flirting will lead to a sweet result or in a silent agreement to forget the moment.  * Sweetheart/ Heart of sugar

Your gaze caught in each other, your faces close enough that you could smell the faint odor of his last cigarette under his breath. You closed your eyes and gently put your mouth on his, feeling your role switch as his hand flew into your hair, pulling you closer. Soft and tender, the kiss was slow, almost fragile, often broken as he nibbled on your bottom lips before joining your mouth for another kiss. 

As the moment passed, you broke the embrace, realizing that you just kissed your friend. Your favorite friend.  

“ I’m done “ You finally said, taking a few steps back. Trying to act like nothing happened.  

“ I’m really grateful, thank you “ He smiled. Getting up, already taking the broom before  sweeping the floor in a large strike. His usual friendly behavior, back. Trying as much as you, to act like he didn’t just taste the sweetness of your lips. 

“ I will help you clean, “ You said. 

“ Y/n, it’s okay, I swear. Go read your book, look it’s already finish” He stopped you, already putting the chopped hair in the trash. “ I really appreciate it, thank you “ 

As you leave the room, your book under your arm, you weren't truly sure if he was thanking you for the hair cut or the kiss.     

As time passed, it became a ritual for you to cut Sanji hair when needed. In exchange, even if you had protested many times that he didn’t have to repay you in any kind. He had learned, with Nami you easily guessed. To do many hairdos. Braiding your hair on hot days, practical ponytail for hard work or some elaborated buns for rainy ones. Your friendship was still going strong even if the memory was still vivid in both of your heads and often kept you awake, wondering. 

As for Sanji, something, as the night is quiet and he keeps himself busy in the kitchen. He couldn’t help himself to think about your soft lips against his and sigh. Hoping one day have another taste of your sweet kisses. 

---

A/N : I know that the end seem a little bit sad, but as I was writing it, I have the thought that it could be a good Prequel for The Small Favor (18+) . I like the idea the dynamic of Y/N and Sanji are like exchanging favors as token of their love. Yes, no, maybe ?

If you have ideas of other favor I could write, let me know please. I could maybe write more for that serie, I don't know.