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jotaroslooseeyebrowhair · 2 years ago

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(Un)Dead Beat Dad (Chapter 5)

I tried my absolute best for fluff this chapter, enjoy Chap 1 Chap 4 Chap 6

3k words under the cut!!!

The movie had ended quite a while ago, and Jason had turned the tv to regular cable and the volume low so as to not disturb Danny. The boy had been tucked into his side, making noises that could only be described as a cat's purring, for hours. It was quite cute, actually. Jason was, is, confused at the rumbling coming from the small child. Yet, Danny had a soft smile on his face and remnants of chocolate on his mouth from the hot chocolate that he gulped down the moment he held it. Jason had been thinking- about how the child got here, who, what, brought him into Jason's personal apartment, the odd healing and the weird way he hesitated when telling Jason he was a meta- and figured human was probably… not, what the child was. However, Jason really doesn’t give a fuck. As long as he’s okay and isn't a danger to himself or others, Jason really doesn’t care if Danny falls in the human category. Now, first and foremost, Danny needs to sleep somewhere, and by god if Jason’s gonna keep sleeping on his couch. Don’t get him wrong, the couch is comfy, but sleeping on a worn-down couch isn’t the most… well, confidence-boosting. So. Jason knows there's another room in his apartment, it’s being used for weapons storage, but there's gotta be some empty closets littered throughout the apartment he can put his weapons in, right? Whatever.

Jason slid his hands underneath Danny's small legs, far too small for a kid his age, and lifted him slowly. The small boy stirred in his arms, and Jason whispered to him that he was just taking him to bed, he’s okay, and the boy's eyes fluttered closed again. Jason shimmied his elbow against the doorknob until it finally twisted open, pushing the door open with his back and walking into the Dark room. When Danny had woken up earlier, it was actually near midday, not the morning like he had thought. The boy had slept for hours the night before, god knew he needed it with those wounds. Jason paced over to the bed and slowly laid Danny down on it, tucking him in before quietly leaving the room again and heading towards his spare room.

He opened the door and walked in, sighing at the amount of weapons in the room. Usually he would be fine with having so many weapons in his house, but Danny needing a place to stay was far more important than some bullshit organizational system. Jason started picking up weapons and categorizing them into firearms, mele, explosives, chemicals, and smoke bombs. God he has too many weapons. Jason picked up weapons and brought them to different areas in the house, some of each in every room just in case he needed to grab it and run.

Jason sighed at the sight of the- mostly- clean room and hung his head. He definitely didn’t get enough sleep last night. He walked towards the bed and tugged the sheets off, grabbing the pillowcases and throwing them into the washing machine. He walked towards the closet in the hallway and pulled spare bedsheets out, struggling with the fitted sheet for a few minutes but eventually getting them all on. No more dusty sheets.

Jason sat down on the couch and hung his head on the back. It was around 17:47 now, and he knew he would have to take care of Danny again soon. He closed his eyes and was drifting off to sleep when a buzzing noise rang out through the apartment. Jason pulled his hands up and scrubbed his face before standing up and slumping up to the door. He pressed a small button on the wall and spoke into it, “Hello?”

“Package for uhh… Mr.Spanky?”

“Yeah that’s me… Who’s it from?”

“One Alfred Pennyworth.”

“Ahh, okay. Bring it up.” Jason pressed a button next to the other one he previously pressed and a beeping noise sounded. A minute passed before a knock rapped through the door. Jason looked through the peephole, waiting for the man to leave before pulling it wide open and grabbing the box, bringing it back to the table in the living room, setting it in front of Danny on the couch.

“What are you doing up? You should be resting right now Danny.” Jason said with a scowl.

‘Mr.Spanky?’ Danny signed with a smirk.

“Hey, kid, I can’t let just anyone know I’m living here.” Jason said as his face softened, gesturing to the large package in his arms as he set it down on the table, “This is a package from Alfred and we don’t get stuff from him, well, ever, really. Wanna help me open it up?” Danny nodded and walked toward the table with the box, but he was too short to reach.

Danny huffed and looked up to Jason, motioning to the box, who picked up the box and set it on the ground for Danny to see the top of. Jason pulled his hoodie up and grabbed a knife from his waistband and slid it through the tape, ripping it open and then pulling the flaps on the box open for them to see. There were two notes, one with Jasons name on top and one with Danny’s. They each reached for their respective one and opened it, reading silently next to each other.

‘Dear Master Jason,

After seeing you in the cave with Young Master Danny, it has come to my attention that he will likely be staying with us for an extended period of time. I have taken the liberty of collecting a few items that will start Young Master Danny’s recovery and incorporation into the family much smoother. I have plenty of experience with children and if you require any assistance at all, feel free to call me on the personal phone I have. No matter the circumstances, I will answer.

In the package, I have included more medical equipment, clothes that should be more suited to Young Master Danny’s comfortability, blankets that should make sleeping easier on his healing body, and toys and games to pass the time whilst he heals. If you require anything else, please contact me or order it yourself for your new ward.

Good luck with Young Master Danny,

Here's to hoping he’s easier than Master Bruce,

With love, Alfred Pennyworth.’

Jason sat bluescreening at the phrase “new ward” when Danny tapped his shoulder with a concerned look on his face. Jason took a second to collect himself again and set the paper note on the table next to Danny’s, that he assumed he had finished reading not long ago. He opened the box and pulled out the medical equipment on the top and placed it next to the two cards from Alfred. He looked down at Danny, who was sitting there with his hands in his lap, staring back at Jason.

“Go ahead, Not sure what Alfie’s card said but as far as I’m aware, this entire box is yours,” Jason said, motioning to the box, “Go ahead and open it up.”

Danny smiled and sat up onto his knees, peering into the large box in front of him. He reached his arm in and pulled out some clothes, just regular striped shirts, jeans, some shorts, winter gear, etc. Danny continued pulling things out of the box, like some toys and card games (he was going to kick Jason’s ass at Uno) and finally at the bottom were the blankets Alfred mentioned in his note to Jason. Danny reached his hand in and pulled out a blanket, then another, and another smaller blanket. He looked up at Jason in confusion, who only shrugged. He only reached in and pulled out another blanket. Apparently, according to Alfred, Jason didn’t own enough blankets. He smiled and draped the blanket over Danny’s shoulders. The last blanket, old and worn out with a few permanent stains and sewn-in patches showing off its true age. This was the blanket that Jason had chosen the first time he went shopping with Bruce. This was his first purchase that he made without wondering if he’d have enough money for food because his mother had spent it on drugs. This blanket was the first thing that showed Jason he had truly started a new life, a new beginning, and now it was Danny’s. Danny’s new life. Danny’s new beginning.

Jason picked up the box and brought it to the door, he’d take it out later. He turned to Danny and smiled, “Do you like what you have so far?” Danny nodded his head and pulled the warm blanket around himself tighter, “Let’s bring it to your room, yeah?”

Danny froze and looked at Jason confused, ‘My room?’ he signed.

Jason smiled and picked up some of the clothes off of the floor, “Yup. While you were out cold I cleaned up my spare room for you, if you’d like to have it?” Danny smiled and picked up a blanket in his arms, the old one on his back still, nodding his head. They both walked down to the end of the hall and entered what used to be a weapons room.

“I know it’s not the coolest looking room, and I’m sure you’ve seen better but it’s all I have right now. Maybe later we could try to-” Jason was cut off by a tugging on his pant leg.

‘Perfect’ Danny signed, walking into the room and tossing the blankets onto the bed. He turned around and walked back into the living room to grab more things, as Jason dropped off the clothes onto Danny’s bed. It took a few trips to grab everything before they could finally start finding places for everything. Danny wrapped himself in a blanket nest and sat on his new bed while Jason put away all the clothes, making sure to stay in clear view of the boy's eyesight the whole time. Jason finally finished and stood, smiling and motioning for Danny to stay on the bed and running out of the room.

Jason finally came back with a computer in his arms and sat down on the end of the bed so Danny and him were facing each other, and placed the computer in between them with a store's website open.

“You know how to shop online?” with a questioning nod from the younger boy, he continued, “Alright. Whatever you want to get, go ahead and add it to the cart.” Jason said with a small smile on his face. He remembered when he got to do this with Bruce, it was a good bonding experience and showed that Bruce trusted him, most importantly, though, was that it was fun.

‘Anything?’ Danny signed

“Anything. There’s no limit to what you want to buy. Er, as long as it can fit inside this room, of course.” Jason smiled at the small boy as his face lit up. Danny pulled the computer closer to him and thought for a moment before typing rapidly into the search bar. Danny went between typing excitedly and scrolling. Occasionally, Jason would peek over the computer screen and see what Danny was looking at, sometimes clothes, sometimes toys, sometimes decorations and other things throughout the cart. Eventually, Danny sat up and looked at Jason, nodding and sliding the computer back over.

“All done?” Jason asked. Danny nodded with a smile, “Okay, well. Very serious and big question here so pay attention.” Danny’s smile falls a bit and he looks worried, a crease in his brow as Jason feigns seriousness. Of course, Jason can't hold it for long and breaks, “Have you ever played Uno before?”

Danny's smile came back in the form of a mischievous smirk as he nodded his head.

“Okay then. Since Alfie threw it in that box somewhere, and I know you probably aren't sleeping any time soon, go ahead and set it up in the living room and I’ll be out there in a second.” Danny nodded and carefully slid off of the bed, walking to the living room.

Jason spun the computer around and scanned the items in the cart. Hmm. He definitely likes space and… that’s definitely a plush he got. Meh. Jason searched up a few things and added them to the cart as well before placing the order to his alias of Mr.Spanky. Jason closed the computer and stood up, walking into the living room to play uno with Danny.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jason sat at the table with a hand on his face, staring at the cards in his hand. How the fuck was he losing? To a child????

“Okay, you’ve gotta teach me how you’re doing this, kid,” Danny smiled and his shoulders shook in a mock giggle as he held his cards higher up towards his face so Jason couldn’t see them, “I mean, honestly, I was going to let you win because I’m nice like that, but you’re kicking my ass right now, and I can’t even tell if you’re cheating!” Jason said exasperated. He tossed his cards down and stood up reaching for his phone, seeing Danny’s shoulders shake again as he laid down his own overpowered hand of cards which was bullshit, thank you very much.

Jason tugged his phone out of his pocket and opened up the family groupchat labeled with a single bat emoji. He typed out a message and watched as messages rolled in immediately afterwards.

You:

My patrol route is going to be constricted for a while, I’m not sure for exactly how long but it’s going to be tighter and for shorter periods of time. I’ll need someone to cover for me in the areas I can’t reach.

Dickie: JAY

Dickie: WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN

Dickie: WE’VE BEEN SO WORRIED

Replacement: what did you do to have to go to ALFRED for help????

You: Not important. Just cover for me.

Bitch: Jason. What happened.

Mini Bitch: Todd. What have you done to get yourself injured in a way you not only needed Pennyworth’s help, but also do not wish to tell us?

You: Cover. Me.

Dickie: Whats the magic word Jay?

You: Fuck you

Replacement: Eh close enough, we’ll cover you.

Jason clicked the off button and slid his phone back into his pocket, grabbing Jenga from the box Alfred had sent them and turned around, seeing Danny setting up a Sorry game board while kicking his feet beneath the table. Jason walked back over and sat down again in front of him, setting the box on the ground and grabbing the blue pawns as Danny had already chosen the green ones.

Long after Jason had lost multiple times to Danny, he stood up and stretched, cracking his back. He turned towards Danny and started packing up the game. “So, Danny. I have to go out for patrol tonight. I would stay if I could, but I can’t. So, first things first, ground rules.” Jason lifted a finger and stared at Danny, who was looking at him confused, as if he had never heard the word ‘rules’ in his life. “First, you have to go to bed at the absolute most at 20 hundred. Second, if you’re hungry, go ahead and eat what you can reach, but, don't eat too much ‘cause you’ll get sick. Third, clean up any messes you make.” Danny was nodding during the whole thing, all the rules sounded good so far.

“And one more thing,” Jason said as he reached into his pocket before pulling out a small burner phone, “Use this in case of an emergency. It has my contact and Alfreds, call us if you need to, okay?” Danny nodded as he took the phone from Jason's hand and sat back in his chair. Jason smiled and patted Danny’s shoulder softly before walking off towards his room to change into his vigilante gear. Danny sat in his seat for a while, flipping the small phone between his hands until Jason walked out in his Red good regalia, sans the actual red helmet part of it.

Danny looked up at Jason and smiled softly at him, signing, ‘be safe,” to which Jason smiled back and ruffled Danny’s hair.

“Of course, kiddo. When am I not?” He asked as he walked over to his window and slid it open, climbing out and shutting it quietly. He stared at Danny for a moment again before jumping up, climbing off to his patrol routes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Danny sat on the couch in the main room of the apartment, occasionally tuning his ears into Jason's heartbeat. I mean, he’s been around the man for almost three whole days, it was incredibly easy to listen in to this specific heartbeat, not to mention the ecto-contamination that was significantly higher than the rest of Gothamites and easy to take note of.

Danny’s ear twitches as Jason's heart rate dips for a mere second as Danny sits up straighter and tenses, straining his ears to listen closer only to hear… Jason is going stealth? In a warehouse? Oh. Danny’s ears tipped back as he laid against the couch again, sighing against the blanket draped over him. His eyes tugged themselves closer together, hoping to fall asleep. With a sigh Danny slowly brought himself up off the couch and walked toward his new room, dragging a torn-up blanket with him.

While the nice old man- Alfred, had said that Danny would need, what, eight weeks? To recover, all he really needed was a few days with the right ectoplasm and nutrition. While Gotham was definitely ecto-contaminated, it wasn’t nearly as bad as Amity was, though, he was definitely getting better nutrition than he was back home so that was picking up the slack. Not to mention, Danny was getting copious amounts of sleep, after all this he might actually have a sleep schedule again. He wasn’t sure how he was going to hide his advanced healing from Jason, but the man already knew Danny was a meta, er, something along those lines, so maybe he would give Danny some leeway when it came to fast healing?

Danny huffed and climbed up the side of the tall bed that was gifted to him, he was focused on both Jason's heartbeat and thinking about himself. He sighed and let his heavy eyes close while he lifted the covers high above his head and squirmed down into the soft worn-down sheets.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jason had finally finished his patrol -muggings, some drug dealers he needed to beat down, just some small fry closer to his apartment- so he could finally get back to his the kid. He narrowly escaped Dicks relentless questioning, not to mention how many times he had to shut his comms off after Oracle kept reopening and reopening them after he told everyone to fuck off. He landed softly on his fire escape and pulled himself inside only to hear crying throughout the apartment, followed by a weak choked out scream, as if the one screaming couldn't physically cry out- not to mention the incredibly cold temperature, even for it being late fall. He quickly pulled off his helmet and ripped his boots off to be quiet, pulling his guns from their holsters and cocking them, running towards Danny's room; he needed to see him, make sure he was okay, make sure nobody was in his room, make sure that-

He slammed the door open and saw an empty bed.

Thoughts? :) and of course, the Ao3 link as always

Roach count:

@starkcravingmad @terzatheunderscorerima @sunsetdew0101 @onyxlightdragon @ace-aro-agenderr @roseinbloom0202 @aikoiya @blacksea21090 @the-legal-shipper @paperlicense687 @cursedchaosboys @corfinnsunrise @ascetic-orangee @eonic @frostedthroughghost @readerkayden @reach-for-the-horizon @xno-more-smilesxx @undead-essencee @bluebeariis @chaoticchange @cloudminder @meep52 @thefanficcup @justwannaseesomebrozawa @pastalavistamf @dodekakophonie @seraphinedemort @seraphichana @keegan-parkerr @im-da-bronx @asrielstars @sweet-itachi-lovin @09shell-sea09 @tinybrie @wolfeyedwitch @lilac-lanedy @ashenfairytale @thelitteralestmood @mady-is-ace-trash @crazylittlemunchkin @lazy-bouqet @emeraudesfateandfandoms @ae-vixrose@skulld3mort-1fan @mentalcarebear @jaxinkh @honeyrydernot @everything163 @omegasmileyface

ill tag the rest of my roaches separate <3

#(un)dead beat dad au #Dad!Jason #de aged danny #dp x dc #dpxdc #dp x dc crossover #dp au

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realcube · 4 years ago

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ARCADE

summary ★ she needs to get the action figure that's in the claw machine for her sister’s birthday, so saiki does her the favour of using his a telekinesis to win it...along with a few other favours.

trigger warning ★ gambling, god, swearing, fem!reader & reader has a younger sister

construction on the new arcade near pk academy had finally come to an end. the grand opening was today after school so of course, nendou suggested that they attend as a squad. usually, saiki tried to avoid getting roped into outings like this but for a change, he actually agreed without the need for any further prying. that's because the arcade was attached to a small cinema where they'd be premiering the latest action movie — based on the TV show adaptation of the game — 'Olfana's Story X-2'. as it turns out, a few months after saiki gave the game a shot, it became a craze and a massive hit among speed-runners. so from it's new-found popularity, they developed a TV show series which inevitably flopped so now they have created a movie. only the most elite people among the gaming community were allow to see it before the official release date and they all said it was incredible; but there was not a doubt in saiki's mind that they were being paid to sing it's praise. a crappy game turned into a crappy show, now adapted into a movie was sure to be crappy. so you may be wondering why he even wanted to view the movie if he was set on it being awful. Well, there are two simple answers; curiosity and the mystery. since it was so exclusive, he had yet to overhear spoilers through his telekinesis and he now had a germanium ring in his possession so he could watch the movie in peace. also, having played the game but not seen the show, he was curious to see how bad the movie is going to be and perhaps he'd be able to get a good laugh out of it. but he made the mistake of mentioning his plan to see the movie which screened a few hours after the opening of the arcade, as now kuboyasu, nendou and kaidou were all going to see the movie along with him. In theory, it shouldn't be a problem since he'll have his germanium ring on but in practise, the world seems to be against saiki so one of his friends will probably end up stealing his popcorn or chatting throughout the entire movie. he'll just have to wait and see. kaidou and nendou did not even stop to take breaths as they raced on about how excited they were while they were all walking to the arcade. "i'm sure the movie is going to be sick!" kaidou exclaimed, followed by rapid head nods from nendou as he replied, "yup! And i can't wait to see what sort of games they have!" saiki was a bit excited himself but he didn't care to show it like the others did. but when he saw the vaporwave building covered with bright neon lights come into view, his lips curled into a small smile. though it was short-lived as he noticed the massive queue to get in; it appeared as though they weren't the only ones who had the idea to visit the arcade after school as he noticed many familiar faces standing in line, amongst crowds of others. all of their cheery auras dissipated for a few moments until kuboyasu perked up, approaching the doors to the arcade with a smug smirk, cutting in front of everyone in the line and gesturing for the boys to follow him, "don't worry about the queue, guys. follow me." nendou followed without any further questions but saiki and kaidou were a bit apprehensive. all three of them watched as kuboyasu stood shoulder-to-shoulder with the guard by one of the doors, muttering something in the man's ear, causing him to sweatdrop and hesitantly open the door with a shaky smile; allowing all four of them inside. "woah, that was awesome, aren!" kaidou yelled, not only out of awe but so he could be heard over all the cheering, laughing and game noises from inside the arcade. "yeah, that was so cool! but what did you say to that guy? he looked freaked out!" nendou inquired, surprising saiki with his actually intelligent observation. kuboyasu's hand found it's way behind his neck, rubbing it awkwardly as he chuckled, "oh, nothing! it's not important-- hey! how about you guys start playing your games and i'll go get the tickets we reserved, yeah?" "yeah!" kaidou and nendou cheered in unison, high-fiving the purple-haired boy before the all ran off in different directions, leaving saiki standing alone at the entrance. he fidgeted with his germanium ring, contemplating taking it off as he stared at kuboyasu; he really wanted to know what the teen boy could've said that'd incite such fear into a grown man, but he decided against it — merrily making his way towards the claw machines, leaving kuboyasu's secrets alone. ★★★★★★★★★★ "shit." he cursed under his breath as he watched the cyborg cider man plushie that he's been trying to win — for yuuta — for half an hour straight slip out of his grasp once again. 'these things are rigged. and what's the point in having psychic superpowers if i can't use them.' he thought to himself but had to quickly shake off the idea, as there was no way he could risk using his powers in such a crowded place, especially for a plush that wasn't even for himself but rather for an annoying kid. he sighed, slipping another coin into the slot and about to find the right state of mind until he heard a loud "fuck!" from in front of him. his head jerked up, scanning the area for the source of the noise until his eyes landed on you. the claw machines were lined up, back-to-back, and playing on the machine diagonal from him was a girl with enchanting (e/c) eyes which contrasted greatly with her disheartened expression as she stared at the box. the only emotion she wore was sadness as she stared at the machine, so out of curiosity, saiki slipped off his ring in order to read her thoughts; feeling no guilt in listening to the affairs of a complete stranger. 'c'mon, stupid claw machine, i need this!' your silky yet whiny voice rung through his mind, 'what's she gonna think about me tomorrow when i tell her that i couldn't get her the gift she's wanted? she's gonna hate me- even more than she already does. and now i've spent all my money on this silly game so i can't even try get her a crappy gift with the little money i had. Wow, (y/n), you're the worst big sister in existence.' saiki cocked his head to the side, peering through the glass of the machines to see the contents of the claw machine you were standing in front of and when he saw the limited edition, silver cyborg cider man action figure sitting on a pedestal — almost as if it was taunting the poor girl — he finally connected the dots. your hand dug through your pockets until you found the smooth metal surface of your final coin, 'just once more try. if i win her this action figure, maybe she'll finally respect me as her big sister! and this toy will surely make her more happy than any gift mom could've possibly thought of. i'll make her sixth birthday one to remember!' the dejected look on your face slow lifted into a determined one, but it wasn't very convincing as saiki — and anyone else — could see the worry and shame in your eyes as you dropped your last coin into the slot of the machine, giving you one more chance to redeem yourself and claim the title of 'best big sister in the world'. saiki watched you maneuver the claw of the machine with bated breath, admiring how your pretty nose crinkled and your tongue poked out from the corners of your perfectly glossed lips in concentration — 'ew, stop being a simp, kusuo.' he mentally rebuked himself before engaging with your scene one again. your fist slammed down against the big red button, followed by the claw opening and lowering over the box of the cyborg cider man action figure, slowly closing it's jaws around the box and grasping it perfectly, resulting in a slight gasp to escape your throat as your lips pulled into a grin. the claw kept it's grip in the toy as it lifted up, slowly making it's way over the hole where it would drop the action figure, straight into your possession. that is, if the grip didn't falter hence allowing the toy to fall down, off it's pedestal and onto the bottom of the compartment to join the rest of the more average action figures. "fuck!" you screamed in an almost identical way to which you did earlier, expect this one held more pain. 'this can't be happening; is this the third year in a row that i'm going to show up to my little sister's birthday party empty-handed?' you thought, your bottom lips quivering so you quickly bit down on it, staring at the damned toy before turning on your heels, shuffling away from the game with your head hung low, the thoughts which cried in your head about how much you budgeted and how hard you worked made saiki's heart sink. 'maybe i could take out a mortga--' your thoughts were abruptly cut off when you heard the noise of something falling behind you. whipping your head around to see what happened, you exhaled a sigh of relief upon seeing nothing out of the ordinary. however, you caught a glimpse of inside the machine which you had been cursing at and realised that the toy wasn't with the packaging peanuts where you left it, as if it magically disappeared in the few seconds you had averted your gaze. creeping up to it, your gaze darted around in search of anyone who might've won it in less than 5 seconds but that was unlikely. now that you were closer, you peered through the glass once more to confirm that the toy was in fact missing and you were right. recalling the noise of falling you heard just before you turned around, you dropped to your knees and lifted the flap to the compartment which held the good that people would win from the machine. you almost screamed with delight and shock when you laid eyes on the limited edition, cyborg cider man action figure that was tucked snugly inside. yanking it out, you pressed it to your chest and the tears you were choking back finally came running down your cheeks, but now they were from joy. "thank you, god." you whispered to yourself, making saiki chuckle from his spot at the claw machine which he hadn't moved from. he wasn't god — nor was he friends with god — but he didn't mind not being able to take the credit for his kind actions of using his psychokinesis to drop the box into the hole for you. honestly, he found that seeing you happy, sitting on the floor with brightest beam gracing your features along with your now cheerful thoughts in his head, was enough of a reward for him anyway. also, he appreciated how you didn't question how the box ended up in the hole and instead you just deemed it a miracle as you were too overjoyed to use logic; that sort of thinking saved saiki a lot of trouble. 'i should probably go home and wrap this.' your internal monologue had now calmed down slightly as you were now able to produce a thought that wasn't just a squeal of delight, 'hm, maybe once i am done i could come back and see the new movie that's premiering-- but i've not got much money left so i guess i shouldn't get ahead of myself.' you hummed, picking up the box along with yourself, dusting yourself off before heading towards the exit. saiki must've been staring for a tad too long though as you caught his gaze while brushing off your clothes. he cringed, instinctively darting his eyes away so you didn't think he was an ogling creep but the fact he appeared defensive probably didn't help. so he fully expected you to frown or cast him a dirty look, judging him for his actions but to his surprise, you simply chuckled. waving at the pink-haired boy before strolling off with the box under your arm. 'he seems cool. where i can get clips like those?' why were you thoughts making him blush like an idiot? time to put the germanium ring back on. ★★★★★★★★★★ as it turns out, nendou is surprisingly good at poker. he figured this out after he stumbled across the casino section of the arcade, and since he looks way older than seventeen, nobody questions it when he took a seat at one of the slot machines, under the impression that it was a fancy, old-timey arcade game. he was then offered a round of poker with some old dude with way too many gold teeth and nendou ended up taking the poor, stubborn guy's entire fortune. god-knows how many games with how-many people later, nendou was sitting on stacks of cash at a round table with a tired dealer, and two grown men — one crying into the shoulder of his arm-candy and the other weeping into the sleeve of his suit — while the three boys who had came to give him his ticket stood by, all wearing matching confused expressions. "uh, nendou." kuboyasu tapped his friend on the shoulder, waving the ticket in front of his face, "the movie is gonna start soon, we should start heading over there right now so we can buy snacks and get good seats." nendou raised an eyebrow, puzzled until he recalled that he was supposed to watch a movie today, "oh, that sounds cool and all but i'm having a lot of fun right here." he smiled, motioning to the large casino area. kuboyasu chuckled awkwardly, backing away from nendou slightly as he turned on his heels, ushering the two other boys away, "alright, well, have fun, nendou! don't stay out too late!" nendou sung an okay in response, sliding a kaidou some cash for the extortionate theatre snacks before he was rushed away by kuboyasu, the purple-haried boy not wanting to spend anymore time in the casino than needed. "if nendou isn't joining us for the movie then we have a spare ticket. here, saiki, you should have it!" "why me?" "uh, because you said you saw reita earlier. so if you see him again maybe you could offer him the spare ticket." 'absolutely not.' was vocalised as "sure." by saiki as he took the ticket from kuboyasu's outstretched hand, fiddling with it before stuffing it into his pocket along with his own ticket. "what i said to nendou was kinda an exaggeration" aren mused, glancing at his watch before looking up at his two pals, "we still have some time left before the movie starts. i'm gonna go handle some business — you two have fun, and try find reita!" kuboyasu said before pivoting on his heels in the direction of the staff only closet. the only thing saiki could think to do during this free-time was escape kaidou's pestering to play dance dance revolution — since saiki didn't want to dance, dance or revolute, he darted outside as soon as kuboyasu left, leaving kaidou alone and confused in the middle of the arcade. 'finally, fresh air.' saiki inhaled, filling his lungs with the cool air rather than the stuffy, arcade oxygen. scanning the surrounding area, his eyes caught a glimpse of a figure standing by the ATM, which he immediately recognised to be that of the girl he had helped earlier. so naturally, he flicked of his ring to figure out the reasoning behind the awkward look on her face. 'do i really want to withdraw money to see some stupid movie? i mean, i could leave that money to accumulate and buy something nicer later.' without thinking, saiki hummed in agreement with your thoughts as he had been in your position many times before. 'but then again, i should treat myself! when was the last time i saw a movie that wasn't pirated? hmm..' your indecisive thoughts matched perfectly with your conflicted expression as you stared through furrowed brows at the screen of the ATM. a soft breeze passed, followed by something light smacking against you face. you winced slightly, your hand snapping your cheek and grabbing at whatever it was; just by the texture, you could tell it was paper. holding it in front of you, upon further inspection you realised that the mysterious sheet that had flew into your possession was in fact a ticket to tonight's showing of 'Olfana's Story X-2' row G, seat 9. you double, triple checked it out of fear that this may be a cruel prank but no, this was completely real! you cheered, bouncing up and down and away from the ATM since you no longer needed it's services as god had blew the desired item straight into your hands — or your face, rather. either way though, you were over the moon, clutching the ticket to your chest and basking in your second miracle of the day. unbeknownst to you, saiki's smile was almost as wide as your own. you thanked god for your relief and saiki had no problem with that; seeing your little happy dance and squeals with your free ticket was enough for him. but actually, perhaps he might benefit himself after all, since the ticket he had given you previous belonged to nendou. meaning that saiki was seated at row G, seat 10; right beside you. ★★★★★★★★★★ saiki forgot to send a few notes flying your way in the wind, so you walked into the theatre and took your seat, completely snackless since you couldn't afford the exorbitant prices that they sold food for at the cinema. but perhaps that wasn't all bad as it revealed the possibility for saiki to offer you some of his popcorn as a conversation-starter, as he's usually not too good at socialising with new people — forget starting a conversation. however, he didn't need to work up any sort of courage to talk to you as the first thing you did when you plopped down in your seat beside him was turn to him and chirp, "oh, you're the guy i saw at the claw machines earlier! i love your clip thingies." your buoyant-adrenaline allowing your to be more bold than usual. the movie had yet to start, low murmurs of chatter coming from across the theatre as the trailers played in the background, "yes. and thanks." 'good grief, curse myself for not being more talkative. she probably thinks i'm dull now. perhaps i should channel my inner nendou..if i have one.' instead of ending the conversation right there like he assumed you would, you continued talking and saiki was..glad? why did he want to interact with you so much? he spends most of his days trying to avoid interacting with people; why were you any different? "no problem- also, did you get what you were playing for?" you inquired, tapping your lip in genuine curiosity. his ring remained on his finger, despite the fact he wanted to know what you thought about him, he didn't want to invade your privacy any more than he already has. "no. did you?" "yeah, i did, actually!" you chirped, not noticing the smirk creeping onto saiki's lips as you were too engulfed in your memories, "i thought those games were rigged but maybe they're not 'cause i managed to win this super special action figure that my sister has been on the top of my sister's wishlist for like- forever! and her birthday is tomorrow so i'll be a--" you cut yourself off, crinkling your nose in embarrassment, "sorry, i'm over-sharing, aren't i?" your enthusiasm made his heart flutter in a way he wasn't used to, if you didn't know any better, he would have thought he was having a medical emergency. his eyes widened slightly as you halted in your speech, "no, you're fine." he said, the uncharacteristic softness in his voice catching the attention of his two pals sitting on the other side of him. you shook off his comment, "i mean, i'm telling you my life story and i don't even know your name." you said, laughing sheepishly at the reality of the reality of the situation.

“saiki kusuo.” he blurted out without a second thought.

you blinked a few times, shocked that he’d give his details away so easily as you somewhat expected him to be more of a reserved type of guy but evidently, you were wrong. “uh, i’m (l/n) (y/n).” you choked, biting down on your bottom lip slightly before continuing you story as he seemed to wait expectantly, “as i was saying, today’s just been the best day ever! everything has been going so well, i’m a bit scared as to what is going to happen when it hits midnight.”

saiki nodded along, popping a piece of popcorn into his mouth before remembering his plan, “oh- would you like some?” he asked, offering you some popcorn from his bucket. unfortunately, the plan was a last-minute thing so he had only bought a small, but he still wasn’t opposed to sharing.

you shook your head, trying to grin foolishly wide at his kind offer, “no thank you.”

saiki nodded, about to open his mouth to reply until the blaring music from the beginning of the movie started, putting a swift end to your conversation — despite the fact saiki would much rather talk to you than watch the crappy movie — out of theatre etiquette.

★★★★★★★★★★

it was worse than you or saiki could’ve ever imagined.

it was painfully trying not to burst out laughing right in middle of it or lean over and giggle in each other’s ear at the silly dialog but out of respect for the other people in the cinema, you both stayed silent and just cast each other occasional knowing glances whenever something cringey happened on screen.

you both let out audible sighs of relief with the credits began to roll, accompanied by a slow indie song. “that was..something.” you mumbled, grabbing your purse and jumping to your feet, wanting to exit the building as soon as possible and hopefully leave your memories of the movie behind you.

“definitely.” he snickered, absently flicking the side of his empty popcorn bucket, “i stopped paying attention once i finished my popcorn.” it felt weird to vocalise — or rather, telepathically communicate — the comments he’d usually keep to himself; why did he feel so comfortable speaking to someone he only just met?

he began gathering his things, stuffing all of his rubbish in the bucket so he could dispose of it all at once. his mind was fixated on crappiness of the movie and how a five-year-old could’ve shot a much better film, until you grabbed his attention by calling out his name, followed by a question which made him blood run cold.

“before i go, it gotta ask’ how’d you do it? or more importantly, why’d you do it?”

he blinked several times before putting on his best bewildered expression, with the idea that maybe if he played dumb, he could gaslight you into thinking that it never happened or that he had nothing to do with it. “what?”

“oh, don’t give me that!” you scoffed, narrowing your eyes at the boy, “i’m not stupid. every time something good happened to me, you were nearby. i’ve connected the dots so fess up. why did you do all those nice things for me? was it out of pity or are you that nice to everyone?”

“i’m that nice to everyone.”

“i don’t believe you.” you snapped, fixing your tone when you remembered that even though he was lying to you, he still helped you get the present for you sister and gave you his spare ticket. “i don’t care if you’re not gonna give me a straight answer, but at least let me make it up to you.”

he huffed, an unimpressed look covering his features before you even proposed your idea. there was really nothing he could possibly need from you. what were you going to give him that he wasn’t capable of obtaining on his own? so he frowned, ready to decline your offer.

“i saw that you bought one of those jelly pots from the snack stand and i actually work at a little café in the town, so i might be able to get you few things for free or discounted?”

“yes.” wait, that wasn’t refusal.

“great!” you chirped, glad that you wouldn’t have to pry further, “does later this week sounds good? we could meet up here then i can walk you to the café- or i could give you my number and we can arrange a date later?”

“sure.” saiki said without thinking once again.

but it wasn’t as though he regretted it when you slipped the piece of paper you had scribbled your number onto, into the front pocket of his shirt, tapping it with a smile. “alright! i’ll see you later then- unless you want to walk home with me?” you fidgeted with your fingers slightly, instantly regretting what you just came out with. not because you didn’t want to walk with him, but due to the fact you highly doubted he was going so say accept so you mentally prepared for the impact of his harsh rejection.

“sure.”

★★★★★★★★★★

BONUS

saiki ended up walking home with some girl he met at the theatre so that left kuboyasu and kaidou to fetch nendou once the film finished. they both searched the casino area for almost half an hour but neither of them had any luck finding nendou. that was, until kuboyasu had to take a step outside to escape the casino as he noticed an old friend of his playing on the slot machines, and he found nendou crouched by the garbage cans, on his phone.

“nendou! we’ve been looking all over for you- why are you out here by the trash? and what happened to all your money?!”

nendou chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck with his spare hand, “fun story actually. i was doing so well and i was on my way to becoming a millionaire until these schoolgirls came marching in and absolutely slaughtered me! it was so embarrassing and the only way i could escape them was by running away so i hid back here.”

kuboyasu’s aura just screamed ‘disappointed but not surprised’, “so you’re telling me that you lost millions to highschool girls?”

“they might’ve been middle-schoolers, i’m not too sure. i didn’t get a very good look at ‘em but they were all wearing creepy red uniforms.”

all kuboyasu could do was massage his temples to ease his headache at the stupidity of his friends, “so you lost all your money to school girls in creepy red uniforms?” he repeated aloud, just to make sure he was hearing things correctly.

“yes. but not all my money.” he said, pulling out his wallet and grandly opening it to reveal a few notes and a button, “i’ve still got enough to spend on ramen with my bros!”

#the disaster of psi kusuo saiki #saiki headcanons #saiki kusuo no psi nan #saiki no psi nan #saiki k x reader #saiki x reader #kusou saiki #saiki imagines #kusuo x reader #kusuo saiki x reader #the disastrous life of saiki k.#saiki k headcanons #psychic kusuo #kusuo saiki

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boonki · 4 years ago

Note

“You look absolutely horrible.” For the prompts!

OKAY I KNOW YOU ASKED THIS LIKE THREE HUNDRED YEARS AGO i am so sorry ive had to work a ton lately and have just been so tired, i havent written at all recently

BUT

here you go!! some nice sleepy vibes from yours truly at 2:20 am, apologies if there are any mistakes

_______

The only light on in their shared kitchen space is above the sink, drowning the space in a burnt orange color, like the warm glow of a fire. As he stumbles into the room, Obi-wan nearly misses Anakin sitting at the table, fiddling with droid parts, back curled over and head drooped to study a piece of machine in his hands. How he’s even able to see is far beyond Obi-wan, but he’s learned to let it go throughout the years.

Obi-wan turns the knob on the stove and shuffles the kettle to check for water, startling Anakin out of his meditative state.

“Oh, Obi-wan.” Anakin looks up at him and squints, exhaustion forming neat lines around the corners of his eyes. “I didn’t know you were awake.”

Before reaching up to the cabinet for a well-loved mug, Obi-wan catches how pale Anakin is, how dark purple blooms around his eyes like bruises, how he seems to shrink into himself. Obi-wan has seen Anakin look tired before, especially when he was younger and put so much pressure on himself to perfect his schoolwork, but this is on the particularly bad end of things. Anakin’s hair is greasy, the long curls pushed back and tucked behind his ears, and the small blanket draped around his shoulders does nothing to hide the fact that Anakin is still wearing the same shirt from two days ago. He looks absolutely horrible.

“You look absolutely horrible,” Obi-wan says, the mug settling on the countertop with a clink. “Have you even tried to sleep?”

Anakin frowns. “Hey, you don’t look much better. We’re both awake at what,” his head swivels around as he looks for a clock, and finding none, guesses, “four in the morning? What’s your excuse, old man?”

Obi-wan hums noncommittally at that, amusement assuaging the growing worry nagging at his chest. He pulls a tea bag out of the flimsy cardboard box left out on the counter, and rips the packaging open, letting the sachet dangle into the cup. He lets the silence linger.

With a softer tone, Anakin tries again. “You can’t sleep either?”

Obi-wan pours the boiling water into the mug, watching the color turn into a deep shade of purple, and he gently bounces the bag up and down, encouraging it to steep. “I think you’ll find, my dear padawan, that I’ve evolved past the need for sleep.”

Anakin’s eyebrows flatten, and he snorts. “I’ll make sure to pass that along to Cody, I’m sure he’ll agree with you.”

A smile tugs at Obi-wan’s mouth. “No, I,” he pauses, taking a breath, “I keep waking up. Figured a cup of tea would help.”

All of the mirth vanishes from Anakin’s face, leaving only unadulterated worry. Obi-wan looks down at his tea. They both know a euphemism for nightmares when they hear one by now, considering they’ve created half of them on their own. Fighting a gruesome, bloody, and endless war will do that to a person. Fighting a gruesome, bloody, and endless war where a good portion of the deaths are on your hands, on your conscience, even more so.

The air is still between them, but dense with emotion. Obi-wan rarely admits his nightmares to anyone, and by the myriad of expressions racing through Anakin’s features, he can tell Anakin is struggling with the right response.

Obi-wan sips his tea.

“Sometimes, I,” Anakin starts, clearing his throat, “I wish I knew them better, my men who died. I see them in my dreams.” He’s staring down at his hands, either as a distraction or remembering the blood he’s washed off. The droid parts sit motionlessly beneath them.

Obi-wan leans back on the counter, holding the steaming mug up to his chin. “So do I,” he nearly whispers, grateful for Anakin’s admission, his attempt to empathize with Obi-wan. He wants to say more, wants to sit down and let out the demons haunting his dreams, but he’s afraid that they’d rip all his bandages on the way out and tear him apart completely. It’s easier, he thinks, to keep it all inside, contained, controlled. But in the dim and molten light of the kitchen, with his face hidden in the shadows, he wants to be vulnerable. He also wants Anakin to get some rest.

“Do you want to come sleep with me?” Obi-wan asks, eyes darting up to Anakin’s face.

Anakin’s eyes go wide, and he straightens up in his seat. “What?”

He suddenly realizes what he’s said, and he can feel his ears burn. “No, not like that.” He dips the tea bag in and out of the mug, and Anakin relaxes a bit, though still wary, looking somehow disappointed. “When you were a youngling, you used to crawl into bed with me when you couldn’t sleep. You thought I never noticed.”

“You remember that?”

Obi-wan smiles to himself, gazing wistfully down into his mug. “Of course, dear one. You weren’t the only one who slept better.”

Anakin’s eyebrows are knitted together, his lips parted. “Oh.” He looks thoughtful. “Sure, then. Your room?”

Warmth floods Obi-wan’s chest in anticipation, not at all feeling guilty about his careful manipulation. He knows Anakin could never turn down helping others, it’s in his nature.

Anakin’s little droid project is completely forgotten as Anakin stares at him for an answer.

“Considering I don’t quite feel like tripping over half an engine, yes, my room.” Obi-wan takes one final sip of his tea and sets it by the sink, treading over the cold floor back into his room.

With a scoot of his chair, and loud, heavy footsteps, Anakin follows, sliding Obi-wan’s door shut behind him, leaving the pair in complete darkness. Obi-wan is still in his sleep shirt and shorts from before, so he slips into bed, pulling back the covers for Anakin to join him. He hears the soft thump of clothing dropping to the floor and then a dip in the mattress next to him.

Obi-wan lays on his back, as he assumes does Anakin.

Then there’s a shuffle as Anakin readjusts, and with a slight startle, Obi-wan feels a bare arm rest against his chest, a face in his neck, a leg thrown over his. It’s odd, but rather nice. Obi-wan doesn’t remember the last time he felt so safe.

“Is this okay?” Anakin mumbles into the crook of his neck, blowing hot air over his collarbones.

“Yes.” Obi-wan faintly wonders if Anakin can feel his heartbeat.

“What were your nightmares about?”

Obi-wan considers this. Blood, so much blood, headless bodies strewn over a hopeless landscape, their heads coming to life and blaming their deaths on him, his call, his decisions. Qui-gon, standing in the flames, yelling at him to be better, to have saved him, saved his men, to save Anakin. Stillness, as he stands utterly alone and deserted, everyone finalizing realizing they were better off without him, because he is worthless, unlovable, tainted-

“The war.” Obi-wan answers, his voice cracking. “And you?”

When no reply comes, Obi-wan wraps his arm around Anakin’s back, tracing his spine, the flesh warm and smooth underneath his fingertips. Anakin’s breaths come slow and even, and his hand twitches once.

Already asleep, then.

Obi-wan bites a lip to keep from chuckling. Maybe this is the trick to get him to sleep. He rests his cheek against his hair, presses a light kiss to the top of his head.

“I dream of losing you, dear one,” he whispers out to no one, letting the honesty linger in the darkness above them. He trusts the nighttime to keep his secrets.

When they both wake up in the morning, Obi-wan is sure there will be some level of embarrassment from cuddling, from cracking open their hard exteriors to each other. They’ll probably be sent out to the frontlines and never speak of this again.

He feels the sturdy muscles of Anakin’s sides, the dip of his waist and rise of his hips.

For now, Obi-wan holds him, keeps him safe from the torment of his own brain, and lets him get some much needed sleep.

___

Light billows out from underneath the door when Obi-wan wakes, morning having come and gone long ago.

Anakin has curled further into him, practically seeping into his bones. There’s a leg thrown over his waist, face completely smooshed in his neck, and his arm drapes over his chest, Anakin’s palm cupping the side of his face. Delicate snores come from Anakin’s nose, and Obi-wan’s neck is hot from Anakin’s breath. Obi-wan’s hand is settled in the small of Anakin’s back, the other arm thrown up above Obi-wan’s head.

A languid grin finds its home on Obi-wan’s face, sleep tugging at his edges. He hasn’t felt so well rested in years.

Not wanting to wake Anakin, Obi-wan flutters shut his eyes, and lets himself drift back off, soaking in the feeling of love and security that pool together in his heart.

He can feel Anakin breathing steadily on top of him, peacefully.

The war will have to wait.

#boonki writes #obikin #obiwan #obiwan kenobi #anakin skywalker #anakin #star wars #prompts #ask #sonda walkin #i hope this makes sense #i wrote this at 2 am whats good #fanfic #hurt/comfort #sleep deprivation #obiwan & anakin #obi-wan/Anakin #THEY JUST NEED SOME FUKIN SLEEP DUDE #let them cuddle

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meltwonu · 5 years ago

Text

| 🍒 CH-CH-CHERRY BOMB! 🍒 | [CHAPTER 11]

pairing; dom!seungcheol x camgirl!reader

this chapter’s notes; camshow, dom!seungcheol, daddy kink, fingering, oral(fem receiving), overstimulation, a little angst/mentions of theft, but some soft lovin for the masses after the last chapter 😭😭💕, also i think this goes without saying but just in case! There won’t be any Cherry Bomb chapters going up while Monster Mash is happening(same for the drabble game)! So this is our last chapter until Nov 6th!🥺 HAVE A GOOD WEEKEND!!!🍒

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - ?

“Well… Welcome home.”

Seungcheol shoots you a small smile from behind as he watches you trudge past him towards the bed. He toes his shoes off quietly before setting your things down by the sofa, a soft sigh on his lips.

“Seungcheol, are you really sure about this? Really, I can just get a hotel...”

He sits with you on the bed; arm draped around your shoulder as he tucks you into his side. “We’re really going to need to figure things out pretty quickly but… yes. I’m sure. I mean, even if it’s just temporarily until you can find a safer place to live in. Which, by the way, can we talk about that? If you’re okay with it.”

Biting your lip, you slightly pull away as you peer up at Seungcheol. He takes note of your puffy, red eyes; a frown of his own painted on his face. He could hear your sniffles the entire ride back home but he decided to not say anything, in fear of exacerbating the situation.

“I---It happened a couple months ago. Do you remember that week I was doing a stream per day as a thank you gift for my subscribers? Well, I stepped out one afternoon to run some errands and---and when I came back, the door was just ...ajar. But also, nothing was really missing? Just a few things here and there I knew I wouldn’t miss and my filming camera. I didn’t think it was that big of a deal, but the cops came by to take a statement anyway...”

“Didn't you stream that night though?”

You nod shamefully, “I know I shouldn’t have, but I figured since nothing stolen was really irreplaceable. And I had a spare camera I ended up using so I thought it’d be okay.”

The two of you sigh in unison, settling into the quietness of Seungcheol, and now, your apartment. “Well, I’m glad you’re safe. That’s the most important thing, right?”

“Yeah, and I’ll help with the bills and stuff, ‘Cheol! We’ll go halfsies on it, okay? I’ll pull my weight around here.”

You shoot him a shy smile as you wrap your arms around one of his. “Maybe I should take up Jeongguk with that collab stream idea…”

“Speaking of…”

‘Hey, it’s late but I need a favour when you’re free.’

Jeon 🥴: wussup u kno im always awake

‘Are you up for a trade?’

Jeon 🥴: why do u sound like jigsaw 😭😭

Jeon 🥴: also it depends

‘You help me move all of Cherry’s things to my apartment and she agrees to do a livestream with you.’

Jeon 🥴: the--

Jeon 🥴: just tell me when and where baby i got u

Sunday morning is a whirlwind of phone calls and favour-chains, big boxes and Jeongguk knocking early in the morning when he finally shows up.

“I’m ready to go whenever! Seokjin-hyung’s pretty upset he has to take my early shift but I promised him that I’d take his night shift and swore to never mention the time he broke the hot dog machine to Namjoon.”

Seungcheol turns to you, “So, I called the police department and asked if there were any updates and what we can do. All they could really tell me is that we’re free to go back to the apartment since they replaced the door and that they’ve already taken as many fingerprints as they can, so we can go get your things.” He pauses, “We probably shouldn’t try to take everything so quickly so we should go in and get your essential things and then just go back to grab the others later on, if that’s okay?”

You nod in response, making sure you have your things before the three of you head out. “My landlord texted me and told me to tell her when we get there so she can give me the new key.”

Jeongguk pops the gum in his mouth, heavy boots resounding through the apartment as he makes his way to the door.

“Let’s go get some shit!”

“So can we discuss the deal we got going on here?” Jeongguk bounces with giddiness from Seungcheol’s backseat, unable to sit still at the thought.

“Well, we can do two streams.” You take a second to turn around from the front seat, eyes locking onto Jeongguk who immediately leans in towards your face. “One on yours and one on mine. We’ll split whatever money we make and call it a day?”

“Wait a second, two streams? Why would he be on yours?” Seungcheol narrows his eyes at the road in front of him; knuckles tightening around the steering wheel.

He wasn’t even properly in a live cam and now Jeongguk was going to be?

“Oh, I don’t think Seungcheol-hyung would like it very much. Although I will say, my stroke game is preeeeetty good.”

“No, you idiots, not like that!” Seungcheol snorts from the driver’s seat just as you roll your eyes. “On ‘Guk’s channel, we’ll just game. That’s it. Keep it PG, y’know? But on mine… We’ll still game, just… with some added bonuses. I’ve already thought it out, okay? Just trust me. We can do it on Friday night and Saturday night respectively, so we don’t kill our schedules too much.”

The two males nod in return as you turn back around to face forward. “Which, by the way, thank you Jeongguk for agreeing to come and bring the heavy stuff with us. I really appreciate it!”

Jeongguk smiles, although you can’t see it. “Hey, it’s no problem! And anyway, I already might’ve told my viewers that I’d be having a special guest soon so...” He trails off sheepishly; a pale pink blush on his cheeks.

“Wow, well, I guess if there’s anything we should be thankful for… At least they didn’t take the sybian.”

“Ugh, hyung, it’s probably because they couldn’t tell what it was. And they probably didn’t take a lot of the sex toys because they were probably freaked out.”

Jeongguk’s voice gets quieter and quieter as he exits the apartment that you and Seungcheol were still in.

“What’s the damage, baby?”

You sigh as you sit down on the bed, rummaging through a box of personal items. “It seems like they made more of a mess trying to find anything of worth, to be honest. Most of the things taken were gifts and some of my toys but the ones that were still in their packages. Some of my camera and lighting equipment also got taken… Same goes for some of the lingerie sets you got me that were still in their packaging… ‘m sorry, ‘Cheol.” You pout up at him as he chuckles.

Seungcheol stands in front of you, tilting your head up to meet his warm eyes. “That’s literally fine. You can always get more of those things anyway.”

He kisses you gently on the forehead; fingertips threaded through your hair. “Hey, if you’re still doing a show on Wednesday, I’ve got an idea.” Seungcheol offers.

“You? Have an idea?” You raise a brow at him, unsure whether or not to believe him. But before either of you can speak, Jeongguk comes back, boots stomping loudly on the hardwood.

“Let’s talk about this another time, when we’re alone.”

The two of you take the next couple of days in stride as you settle into your new place; whether it was temporarily or permanently for you.

Seungcheol continues his normal work routine and to some degree, you find yourself even more bored without him. For a while, you contemplate getting a part time job, at least to make up some extra money for rent and so that you weren’t always at home alone.

“Hey, I’m back!”

Ah, perfect timing.

You meet Seungcheol at the door, already dressed in one of his shirts. “‘Cheollie~ Welcome home!”

“Have a fun day without me?” He asks, shucking off his jacket and shoes before making his way to the sofa.

“Errr, well, I had some thoughts… and some questions.”

“Okay, shoot.”

You sit across from him, eyes blinking in unsureness as he stares at you. “Well… I was thinking… about maybe getting a part time job? I know we kinda made a lot with the last videos but, it’d help me not be so bored when you’re gone and hey, extra money is always good, right? I can replace all the stuff that got stolen too.” Seungcheol nods in thought, “Maybe you can find a place that’ll give you early shifts so I can just swing by and get you after work. I’d say come work at the roller rink but I don’t think that’d be the smartest idea...”

“I’ll find a place! I was going through the job listings earlier and there were some promising places~” A weight feels lifted from your shoulders as you smile back at Seungcheol; glad that he seemed to be willing to work with you and what you wanted. “Oh and… about the show tonight? What was your idea? We totally forgot about it.”

Seungcheol laughs breathily, running a hand through his hair as he gets up from the sofa to head towards the kitchen.

“Let’s let it be a surprise. C��mon, I wanna try a new recipe from our cookbooks.”

You set up the cameras as per Seungcheol’s request, checking the viewfinder. “Are you sure about this, ‘Cheol? You don’t have to be on cam with me if you don’t want to…”

Seungcheol chuckles as he tugs his shirt off, leaving his sweats on as he gets onto the bed with you. He checks the viewfinder with you, making sure the angle cuts off right at his collarbones. “I’m sure, and as long as the cameras don’t shift, we should be fine. I wanted to try this.”

The unknown factor scares you a little bit, but you trust Seungcheol enough to know that he knows what he’s doing.

“Now, c’mere.” He gestures to you as you tilt your head at him. “But there’s still, like, 12 minutes until we need to start…”

“Yeah, but we’re doing things my way tonight, right, sweetheart?”

Nodding slowly, you crawl on your knees towards Seungcheol, stopping right in front of him as he leans in to give you a chaste kiss. You smile into it, melting under his touch before he pulls away.

“Turn around for me, baby.”

The mood shifts quickly when he slips into character and you can feel your heart racing in your chest when his arms wrap around your midsection. He tugs you towards himself until your back meets his warm naked chest.

“Daddy just wants to make you feel good, princess. Don’t you want that?”

The warmth blooms inside your chest at Seungcheol’s soft voice, “Mmhmm…”

You check the viewfinder to see half of your face cut off and Seungcheol’s head out of frame. His arms are wrapped firmly around your midsection before his hands start to roam your lingerie-clad body. “My babygirl’s had such a rough week. I think she deserves to be treated like a princess tonight.” You gulp as Seungcheol whispers into your hair; a content sigh on your lips when he cups your breasts in his palms.

“Let me make you feel good, okay?”

You lean your head up against his shoulder as his fingertips continue to roam; letting him take the reins.

He slides your bra straps down your shoulders gently, kissing the skin before he slides the material from you. His hands find their way back to your breasts, squeezing them in his hands as you mewl. “S--Seungcheol…”

His eyes flit to the clock on the wall. “Looks like it’s time, sweetheart.”

Nodding, you lean away from his touch for a second as you click the red button on your laptop screen that indicates you were live. It gives a countdown of three seconds just as you situate yourself back in Seungcheol’s lap.

gentleman_josh95: whoa what

universe_WZ: yo wait

angelhan: ????

kitty_junjun has donated $69

kitty_junjun: for my favorite couple

“H--Hi guys…” You whimper; lips falling into a silent moan when Seungcheol pinches your nipples between his fingers. “I--I, um, a-ah, daddy wanted to s-start early so…”

sleepy_wonu: ….interesting

sleepy_wonu has donated $50

therealchan99: btw u didnt have a show on sat! everything okay?

“Ah, ye---yeah, just, some stuff came u-up, is all. Sorry!” You shoot the camera a sheepish smile, hoping that nobody else presses for more.

Seungcheol notices the way you tense up in his hold as he kisses the crown of your head.

“Daddy’s taking care of it now, isn’t that right, babygirl?” The comments and donations flood the screen as Seungcheol talks; questions of who he was and comments about the previous videos still lingering in your viewers minds as they continue to praise the two of you.

He takes your distraction as an opportunity to ghost his hands down your torso until they flit along the edge of the waistband of your panties.

“Spread your legs a little more, baby. Let them see how wet your panties are getting.”

sleepy_wonu: seems like daddy dom.cheol finally got his hands on you huh lol

sleepy_wonu: somehow i knew you’d make a good pair.

tangerine_kwan: the--------------

hoshi_tiger_xx: wait how r u sure

chwenon: actually.... 🥴🥴🥴

sleepy_wonu: i mean, do u see him in here? Isnt it weird he hasnt donated yet?

alphagyu97: goddamn he rly went from private show to actual fucking?

alphagyu97: … living his best life, i cant even complain

For a second, you want to respond, but you let the comments go on to see what else they had to say before chiming in.

A blush blooms on your cheeks when Seungcheol ghosts his fingers over your panties; hips rising off of the bed when he presses into the growing wet patch on the material. He chuckles lightly as he, too, reads over the comments.

“Guess we’re caught, huh?” You can’t help but giggle at Seungcheol’s lighthearted approach to them finding out; glad that he seemed to be okay with it.

chwenon: bruh he said stroke game on ✨x-games✨

xcaliburDK: wait so r u guys gonna be on cam together regularly now?

artist8hao: damn, shouldve known he was packin

“Erm… we--well, not necessarily! He’ll, maybe, join me for some here and, mmh, there but… but that’s it for, ah, n-now..”

Seungcheol drags his fingers up and down your folds through your panties as the material starts to stick to you like a second skin. He noticed you’d hit your show minimum where you usually liked to really start your show, moments prior.

“But for today, I thought I’d take it slow with our babygirl. Let her feel nice and good after her long week.” He checks the viewfinder one more time to make sure everything’s okay before he drags his fingers back to the waistband of your panties as he starts to push them down. “Help me get these off of you, sweetheart.”

You replace his hands with yours as you shimmy the soaked material down your legs until you can kick them off.

Spreading your legs, you make sure you’re directly in the camera’s views as Seungcheol brings his fingertips down to your soaking cunt. “Look at her. I’ve only been touching her for a little while and she’s already so fuckin’ wet for me.”

tangerine_kwan: fuck, give her what she wants

artist8hao: sink those fingers into her tight pussy just like what she likes

Seungcheol drags his fingers through your wet folds teasingly slow as you whine. “M-more… daddy…” He hums in response, middle finger on your clit as he rubs slow circles. Your eyes slide close at his gentle touch, body filled with warmth as you rest against him. You even momentarily forget that the two of you were being watched live; if not for the sounds of donations and comments pouring out of your speakers.

“Babygirl, don’t you have an announcement for your viewers?” He grins against your hair just as he runs his fingers through your wetness again; this time, positioning two fingers at your entrance as he slowly sinks them into you.

He starts a slow pace as he pumps them inside of your warm walls, curling and scissoring them as you clench around the digits.

“A-ah, y--yeah, this Friday I--I’m doing a collab stream on--on, ngh, G-Golden Closet Gaming and, fuh--fuck, on Saturday we’ll be doing a collab stream on, hah, my ch--channel!”

xcaliburDK: wait u kno gcg too?

therealchan99: threesome?

angelhan: wow this channel is growing so fast

“N-no, ah, d-daddy wouldn’t like that very m-much but, mmh, it’s---it’s for a good reason! I promise~!” You let out a choked sob just as Seungcheol starts thrusting his fingers faster; heels digging into the sheets as your legs threaten to clamp shut.

“Ah, ah, ah, keep your legs spread, baby. They have to see your pretty ‘lil cunt stretched wide around my fingers.” He kisses your hair once more before he ever so slowly adds a third finger, pumping them into you slowly. Your nails dig into his thighs at the fullness you feel, hips bucking up as you meet his fingers.

“O-oh my god, ‘m suh--so full!” You whimper, eyes clamped shut.

You already feel yourself close to an orgasm as your thighs start to shake. Seungcheol takes notice of the way your pussy gets tighter around his fingers and the way your breath becomes more stuttered as he curls his fingers inside of you.

“Cum for me, sweetheart. Get my fingers nice and wet.” Seungcheol coos.

“D---daddy!”

The donations and comments flood the screen with words of praise as your orgasm washes over you; back bowing away from Seungcheol as your body locks up in his lap. He places the pad of his thumb on your clit as he starts rubbing circles on the swollen nub, laughing lightly when your thighs clamp shut around his arm.

universe_WZ: so fuckin pretty when she cums

alphagyu97: a sweet babygirl getting what she deserves

Small cries fall off your lips as the oversensitivity starts to bite and you bring your hand to Seungcheol’s forearm as you whine and try to push his hand away. “Mmh… ‘m sensitive now…”

He nods gently as he slowly eases his fingers out of your soaking pussy. “Spread your legs.”

You shakily follow his orders as you catch your breath; shaky legs parting for the camera to see. Seungcheol brings his wet fingers to your lips as you start to lick and clean them of your wetness.

kitty_junjun: fuck and she’s such a good girl too

universe_WZ: a good babygirl who knows how to clean up her messes huh

Seungcheol clears his throat, adrenaline rushing through his veins, “I want you to cum one more time for me, baby. Think you can?” You blink sleepily at the camera, foggy eyes already noticing you’d somehow made twice as much in this show despite Seungcheol not being any of the donators.

“I---I think so, daddy…”

He nods, gulping as he slowly starts to move from behind you. “Good, because you’re gonna cum on my tongue for everyone now.”

Arousal pools in you at Seungcheol’s words and you shoot him a panicked look when he gets up from the bed. He smiles at you softly, rounding the bed and entering the camera’s view with the back of his head showing.

“Lean up against the pillows, sweetheart. Let them see your cute face when you’re cumming on daddy’s tongue.”

angelhan: blue hair huh

sleepy_wonu: lol tryna keep tabs so u kno who to look for?

alphagyu97: maybe

therealchan99: yes but no

Seungcheol takes a deep breath before he lays on his stomach between your legs, hands on your thighs as he places them over his shoulders. He’s slightly nervous; if only because he’s worried he might accidentally show his face. But he steels himself, smiling up at you once before he leans in, tongue already flicking at your sensitive clit before you can even properly get situated.

“Oh, f-fuck!” Your hands immediately tangle into Seungcheol’s hair as you throw your head back against the pillows.

This time, he doesn’t start slow; his plump lips around your clit as he sucks hard. “D--Daddy, please!” You whine as you dig your heels into his back and Seungcheol is quick to laugh against your skin. He kisses your clit; smirking when you jolt under his touch.

“What’s wrong, baby? Too much? Do you want me to stop?” He lets you catch your breath as you slowly bring your head down to look at him; bleary eyes focused on his wet lips and twinkling eyes.

“N-no… jus’ wanna c-cum again…’m really close already ‘cause ‘m sensitive...”

Seungcheol hums, leaning in closer as he drags his tongue from your clit to your entrance, slightly dipping his tongue in as you moan above him. He repeats this process a few times, teasing you as you whine and squirm.

xcaliburDK: goddamn her expressions are so cute

chwenon: she rly does look good like this

hoshi_tiger_xx: better than her toys

universe_WZ has donated $100

angelhan has donated $75

hoshi_tiger_xx has donated $50

You get lost in the pleasure, already on the brink of your second orgasm when Seungcheol sucks your clit back into his mouth. He draws you in closer by your thighs when he feels you shaking under his touch; doubling his efforts when he can already feel your body start to lock up.

Seungcheol flattens his tongue against you, dragging his tongue up and down in hard strokes.

“Fuck, daddy, I’m---I’m c-cumming!”

Tears wet your lashes as you cum hard on his tongue; fingertips locked tight in his hair as your hips cant up into his mouth. He lets you do as you please, letting you ride his tongue as you take your pleasure from him.

The sounds of donations and comments pour in from behind Seungcheol’s back and he has an itching feeling that the shows in which he actually appeared were going to be more popular from now on.

Not that he’d complain.

Your soft cries from above pull Seungcheol from his thoughts as he slowly eases his tongue off of you; kissing your sensitive clit one last time as you squirm.

“Nooooo~” You cry, pushing his head away as he laughs.

“It was nice meeting you all~” Seungcheol comments as he slides out of view of the camera. “I’ll let you take it from here, sweetheart.”

You smile tiredly at Seungcheol, wiping the sweat from your brow as you close your shaky legs.

“Thank you, daddy~”

“Did you still want to get a part time job? I mean… these numbers…”

Muttering, Seungcheol turns off all the lights before he slides under the bedsheets with you, laptop dead-center as the two of you look at the amount of donations you’d made from the single live show.

“Yeah, I think it’d be fun! And anyway, I might’ve already found a place! And with a friend!” You grin at him just as you slam your laptop shut; confusion painted on his features even in the darkness.

“A friend? And where?”

“’Dynamite’! With Jun!”

Seungcheol snorts, flopping into his pillow. “You serious? Why there?”

You snuggle up to his side, resting your head on his arm as you stare up at his side profile. “They’re hiring, Jun would know my schedule the best, and I’d have someone familiar with me.” Pausing, you smirk up at him even if he can’t see it. “And they probably have cute little pastel diner outfits… With a cute ‘lil skirt… And if I bend over enough for you, maybe you’ll see my cute ‘lil panties that are already wet just thinkin’ about you… ‘n maybe you’ll have to take me back to your car and fuck me in your backseat and cum all over my cute outfit.”

Seungcheol nods in though, images of you bent over the hood of his car with your panties pushed to the side as he fucks you in the parking lot; the risk of everyone seeing you making his cock throb in his sweats.

“Hmm... Touché.”

#cherrybomb!cheol #scoups smut #seungcheol smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #seventeen fic #svt fic #seungcheol scenarios #scoups scenarios #seungcheol imagines #scoups imagines #svt imagines #svt scenarios #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines

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writingsbychlo · 5 years ago

Text

tea parties | dad!mitch rapp

word count; 14,990

summary; emma rapp loves her dad, and she admires the badass CIA agent that he’s trying to suppress his feelings for, so she does a little meddling.

notes; this is a dad mitch fic, featuring the little girl I made up so long ago, and she is a little miss emma rapp. I adore her, she’s fantastic, and you’re going to love her too.

warnings; reference to injury, reference to death, reference to PTSD.

Mitch’s feet were taking slow and steady steps along the corridor, as a pair of irrationally matched footsteps skipped, walked and jumped along beside him, a small hand wrapped tightly around his own as the nerves in his stomach went haywire over the briefing he had up ahead of him, and the hope that it was nothing too dangerous. He knew he never got called in to talk to Irene unless he was going away to do something big, but he was hoping it wasn't the kind of assignment that made him wonder whether he’d be returning on his own two feet, or in a body bag.

Crouching down before the elevator doors, the room he needed to be in only a few metres away, he faced the little girl before him, tucking some of the small wisps of hair away behind her ear, fishing around in his pocket for one of the glittery snap-clips he made an effort to always have on him, and internally cheering in victory when he found one.

Sliding it into her hair to keep the shorter pieces out of her face, he brushed the tip of his finger along the bridge of a familiar nose, one she’d inherited from him, and grinning when her face scrunched up in distaste at the ticklish feeling the action gave her.

“You gonna’ be good for me?”

“I’ll be on my bestest behaviour, daddy, I promise.” She adjusted the bag on her arm, pulling it down for only a second and placing it on the floor, unzipping the little backpack to root through it, before pulling out the item so wanted, brandishing it to him proudly. A plastic ‘nerf’ gun, loaded with foam bullets as at least three dozen more sat loose and rolling around the bottom of the bag, bright orange foam to match the neon green plastic of the toy, and she waved it excitedly in his face. “Mr Stan say’d that he’d help me practice to shoot things.”

“How very exciting.” He teased sweetly, zipping the bag back up and pulling it onto her arms, letting her push her arms through the straps and hold onto the fake gun in her hands with both hands. “Do you know where Stan is?”

“In the gym.”

He nodded, licking over his lips, checking the time on his watch and hurrying himself along. “And how do you get to the gym?”

“Press the button with ‘three’ on and run all the way to the end of the corridor when the door opens.” He scooped her up, standing up to his full height, balancing his daughter on his hip and pressing a kiss to her cheek. She took his face in her hands, his face crushing a little when plastic pressed into one side, but she pulled his head forwards enough to press a kiss to his forehead, seemingly sensing his nerves and returning the gesture he always gave her when she had nightmares or fears. Tipping his head back up, he dropped her down, pushing the button for the elevator and waiting patiently. “How long is your meeting, daddy?”

“Not long, princess, I’ll be there to get you real soon. We’ll have ice cream tonight, yeah?”

She cheered, her hand held out to him and he tapped his palm against hers in a high five, ruffling her hair as the doors dinged open and he was able to push her instead gently, watching as she pushed the button for the right floor and waved to him as she disappeared from sight.

Mitch paused for a second once she was gone, choking down the fear about what may happen to his daughter, reminding himself that she was wandering around the CIA main building, and that his little girl owned the hearts of almost everyone in the building, so there wasn’t a soul that would let anything happen to him.

Spinning on his heel before he could change his mind and call the elevator back, and instead pacing the few large strides it took him to reach the meeting room, everyone else seemingly gathered, preparing themselves around the table, and he let out a huff at all of them, not even glancing up at the screens housing the powerpoints and presentations he was going to be seeing. Instead, he got himself a coffee, stirring the wooden stick aggressively through the shitty paper cup that did nothing to stop his hand getting burned if he held it too long, and picking up one of the pastries, squeezing it a little in his fingers to test the softness of it, before placing it into his mouth and holding it there with his teeth as he moved over to the seat reserved for him.

There was already a brown manilla folder laid out for him, his name on top, and he took the pastry from his mouth, tearing off a chunk and chewing it quickly, before taking a swig of his coffee to wash it down with, wincing when the cheap liquid burned his throat.

“Okay, Mitch, let's just jump right in.”

He looked up, huffing out as he did and wiping flaky crumbs from his shirt, before opening the first page of the folder and almost gagging at what he saw before him. Piles of bodies, all burned, the photograph clearly showing the smoke coming off of the stack of bodies, charred and fleshy, some dismembered and torn apart, battered and bruised, and he pushed the remainder of the croissant away from his as his stomach churned at the sight.

“Underground ring of paid fighters, human trafficking, drug empire, it’s all rolled into one. Goods are being traded for bets, every single person so far identified from this pile is a missing person, some going as far back as four years, and there were two more piles.” Turning over the following page, Mitch let out a low whistle as he ran his eyes over the list of names attached to people he’d already They’re working through people quickly, missing people coming up from all over the world, and he sighed out at the thought. “You’re going in undercover, obviously. We know that there must be a huge list of people adding to this web, with such a quick growth rate and being so well known, word of mouth is travelling fast in a criminal chain, and we need to know who the king-pins are. The next event is tomorrow night.”

“You need me to get kidnapped and put into the next fight by tomorrow night?”

Irene scowled at him, motioning for him to turn over the page, his eyes widened as he took in pictures of all the items that had been traded, everything from raw diamond extracts to people, kidnapped children holding the same worth as the deed rights to mansions, bile once again rising up in his throat, paternal possessiveness crawling in his chest and scratching to be released as he ran his fingers gently over the photograph of a young toddler whom he desperately wished was still alive and well.

Flipping over the next page, he was equally as shocked to find a new set of false identities to add to his collection placed neatly within the pockets of the folder. A passport, a driving licence, a rendered photo of the look he was going for as well as a basic list of everything his new personality would entail. Picking up the piece of plastic that allowed him to drive a car, he scoffed at the name. “How the fuck do I even pronounce this?”

“It’s Polish. You won’t be doing much talking, if any, you just need to listen and place bets. Observe, photograph, be discreet, and find out who our big bosses are here.”

“So, I’m not fighting?”

“In a gladiator-style ring, fighting to the death with opponents who have probably won a lot of matches already? No, Rapp, you’re not a fighter. You’re a buyer.” She insisted, already sounding fed up with him, and he sneered a little at her, before nodding.

“What am I supposed to take that’s of such high value?” She nodded to one of the interns beside her, a large cardboard box being lifted that he seemed to struggle to pick up, before he was tipping it out across the table, at least twenty neatly wrapped plastic packages spilling out before him, and he couldn't help the laugh that left his lips, before he was looking towards the other three boxes that she was gesturing to. “Where the fuck did you get that much cocaine?”

“Evidence lock up. A truly useful resource.”

He nodded a little, letting her run through the fact that he’d need to be at the runway for six sharp tomorrow morning, and that everything he needed would already be packed, an agent set to sort his outfit and help test him on everything he needed to know would fly over with him, but other than that, he was running solo. It was no more than a few days worth of work, tops, but he still didn’t like the idea of being away from his daughter for almost a week, and so he couldn't stop his moody huffing and puffing to himself once he’d left the room.

The journey to finding his daughter was short, and yet he was still equally as irritated when he arrived there, searching for the little girl that ever failed to brighten his day, peering into the room through the windows, and spotting her standing beside his mentor in front of the bullet-riddled targets, as promised, her toy gun in her hands as little orange pellets littering the floor.

Their focus wasn’t on the targets, however, it was a little further off, in the direction of the boxing bags and the sparring rings, but despite how much he craned his head, he couldn't see what they could, and so he was resigned to simply entering the room to actually find out. Pushing the button on the door to release the magnetic locking, the sounds of punching bags being battered, machines running and several voices in different areas field his ears, the room much cooler than the corridor, the air conditioning keeping it so, and a shiver ran down his spine.

The high-pitched cheering that he recognised as his daughter’s voice called out, and he followed the sound of it, making his way over to where the two people he recognised where standing, watching a lesson go down in the boxing ring, and his breath hitched, feeling as though his soul had physically left his body as his daughter stared up at you with rapt awe. For well over a year now, Mitch had cursed the slight trembles that went along his body and the butterflies that filled his stomach when you were around, because he had bigger responsibilities in his world than dealing with the fact that you somehow managed to render him back to being the same nervous wreck he was in high school as soon as a pretty girl walked past, the same Mitch he’d been in sophomore year before getting his braces off and growing out his buzzcut.

He was used to pretty girls in little clothing, from high school until now, Mitch has been on various sports teams, and while being a glorified killer for hire now was a little different to playing college lacrosse, he was used to cheerleaders and gymnasts and dancers surrounding him, tight yoga pants and sports bras and pretty eyes with a firm as and a smirk that made his legs weak. He was used to it, and yet somehow, you had more of an effect on him than the others. He wasn’t sure if it was the fact that you were by far his superior in the field, or maybe that you were also a terrifying killer that turned him on in some sick way, or maybe it was his lover-boy paternal instinct that flared up every time, because much like everyone else, Emma had you wrapped around her little finger.

His daughter had spoken to you more than he had, his mind seeming to go blank every time he tried to talk to you, and so he often opted to just ignore you, a trait he was grateful that he could disguise behind the moody and darkened persona he’d built up. It was hard to keep that up, though, when he had to remind himself to close his mouth and stop staring at the way your body moves with grace and elegance in every single extremely well-executed move you used as you continued to take down the two other agents in the out-manned battle while barely breaking a sweat.

You were incredible. Talented and funny and sweet, while also managing to be brutal and vicious and always successful in a field, every characteristic you had made you perfectly suited for this job, and he was half-convinced Irene had just made you in a lab to work for the CIA.

The first time he’d met you, you were wearing a black tank top and some tight leggings, a look that vaguely reminded him of the Black Widow, and so he’d pegged you as CIA eye-candy, before ever getting a look at your file, and feeling all bt blown away as your record made his look like child's play, his work held up next to your own was the equivalent of holding up one of his daughter's drawings from the fridge door up beside the ‘Mona Lisa’ or ‘Starry Night’.

He was absolutely certain that you owned a little bit of his heart, even though he refused to acknowledge the jumps in his pulse when you caught his eye, or the way he wanted to reach out and hold your hand every time you got a little too close to him, because he was a grown-ass man, and a father at that, a would have been widower in addition, the little girl he had, having barely even reached the age of one when her mother had died on the holiday Mitch had taken her on to propose, never having gotten to see the event.

His heart had healed since then, he’d been forced to for his job and for the baby he loved more than anything, but having someone else around to project his feelings onto certainly hadn't hurt. He wasn’t the same man he had been five years ago, though. He was covered with scars and trauma, inside and out, with a chaotic and unpredictable job that many wouldn't understand and he was unable to disclose, and so finding someone else to be with was a hard task that he hadn't had any luck in.

He leaned up against the doorway, watching as his daughter cheered on, grunting a little as she threw her own fists in fake punches, before pulling out his phone for only a moment, taking a short video and catching the sweet moment to save forever, before calling out her name, and watching as her little head whipped around to give him her attention instead.

Little feet were dashing over to him, toy gun discarded with her bag as they leaned against the steps of leading up to the ring, and she launched herself up into the air, faithfully believing he would catch her, barely giving him time to swoop down and grab her, but he managed to. She was energetic and enthusiastic, a trait he recognised from himself, and he adjusted her in his arms, allowing her to crawl across his body like a climbing frame, until he had clambered up onto his shoulders, legs dangling down onto his chest as she held fistfuls of hair he needed or get cut, balancing carefully as he held onto her ankles, a giggle on her lips as he looked out from her new height.

“I’m bigger than everyone else now.”

“Yes, you are, Em. Are you ready to go?” She gave him a hum in reply, and he crossed the room to his mentor, who was now leaning with his arm folded on the edge of the ring and cheering everyone on, excitedly invested in the match that he was pointedly trying not to look at. Lifting her down from his shoulders, he crouched down to pick up the sparkly unicorn rucksack, putting the gun inside and handing it to her. “Go pick up all your bullets, princess, I’m not buying any more this month if you lose them all.”

“It’s not my fault I can’t find them in the street when we go out!” Her eyes were wide as she looked up at him, and he tapped her nose with the tip of his finger gently.

“Shouldn’t shoot them out of the window then, should you?” She pouted, grumbling to herself as she made her way over to perform her cleanup duties, and he stood up to his full height, Stan facing him now. “Should only be gone about a week, not too bad, but I hate leaving Em for more than a few nights.”

“If you give me the number of your sitter, I can check in a few times with them.”

“I don’t have one anymore, she quit after the last one, saying Emma was too much for her’ with all the shit she does.” He frowned, remembering the summary that the nanny he’d had previously, saying that she was far too aggressive and imaginative, and that the girl never calmed down for even a second, and that she was simply too much for a person to handle.

He refused to dampen her spirit, and if nobody else would nurture her than he sure would, because whatever Emma wanted to be then that was her call, she didn’t need to be tamed. She was wild, and enthusiastic, and her mind never stopped working. She was an intelligent girl for her age, and Mitch kept intending to have her tested, but that came right behind getting a new nanny, which he still hadn't had time to do between trying to help her learn to read and write, find a good online school for her to attend, and keep up with his job to pay the bills.

Nobody said being a single dad was going to be easy.

“What about her grandparents?” Hurley mumbled, eyes flicking up to the sparring match taking place, before back to him, and Mitch felt his own face screw up.

“Katrina’s parents haven’t spoken to me since the funeral. They love her, and they send a letter once a year on her birthday that I’m collecting for when she’s old enough to understand them, but that can’t look at her without crying, and they can’t look at me.” Mitch shrugged, the pain of the event that had changed his life feeling nowhere near as aggressive as it once had, no longer ripping agony through his body like searing heat burning him from the inside out, but he still felt a little saddened at the thought of himself being the only family Emma ever had. “I have until tomorrow morning to find someone to look after her, and that doesn’t’ exactly inspire much confidence in my focus if I’m worried about the stranger caring for my baby girl.”

“I’ll do it.”

Mitch felt his breath hitch in his throat, a shadow falling over both of the men, before you were dropping down and feeding your legs through the elastic bands, leaning against them and reaching for your water bottle. You were panting front he exertion, skin shining a little from sweat, and somehow you still managed to look radiant, rendering Mitch barely able to catch his breath as you licked a stray drop of water from your lower lip and smiled at him.

“You need someone to look after Emma, right?”

“Uh, yeah.. that’s, um, yeah.”

“Well, I’m more than happy to do it.” You shrugged, and Stan clapped you on the shoulder, seeming satisfied with the solution, said little girl seeming to choose this moment to come back over, wrapping her arms around one of his legs as she rested a cheek against his thigh, and he dropped a hand down to brush through her hair comfortingly as she waited patiently. “I know your job, and I know your daughter. I’m good with kids, and I have a guest room, I’m more than happy to do it.”

You were staring at him expectantly, and everything within him seemed to go into panic mode, his eyes flicking between you, his daughter and Hurley. Emma was peering up at him, a sweet little face that was mostly confused, but totally happy to just wait for her dad to be ready, while you were narrowing your eyes a little as him as the time dragged on, his throat feeling dry, even drier when he noticed the scrutinising gaze Stan was giving him as he gaped like a fish. Swallowing thickly and licking over his lips, he fixed you with a smile, nodding his head and looking back down.

“What do you think, Em? You want to stay with (Y/N) for a few days while daddy goes away to fight some bad guys.”

She rubbed at her chin, making both you and Stan laugh at her gesture, before she was leaning in a little closer to you, voice coming out like a whisper. “Do you like spaghetti hoops?”

“I do.” You had whispered back, her face lighting up, the craze she’d been so attached to lately of the pasta circles in a tomato-y sauce seeming to seal the deal as she nodded rapidly. “Here, give me a minute to write down my number and address, and you can swing by later tonight, I’ll get everything set up when I get home.”

Mitch once again felt useless as he simply nodded, watching as you slipped out below the elastic ropes and found your bag, searching through for a pen, but not finding any paper. Instead, you pulled the cap off with your teeth, reaching for his arm and pushing up his sleeve, scrawling your number onto his skin, and tapping it with a triumphant sound when you were done.

“There! Just give me a text later, and I’ll send you my address, and we can sort everything out.”

He finally managed to find words, promising he would do so, giving you a simple thank you and mustering what he hoped was a smile and not a nervous grimace, before Emma was wrapping her hand in his, and pulling him towards the door, yelling her goodbyes over her shoulder as she reminded him that he had promised her ice cream.

The entire evening had felt like a blur to Mitch, like at some point he was going to wake up cursing himself for having a dream about getting your address and number all in one night, that he was going to see you outside of work for the first time in his life. It was a thrill, an adrenaline rush of fear and excitement all in one. Personal lives in the line of work you both shared were something to be kept sacred, protecting your secrets and guarding them to your chest, and to be so easily welcomed into yours meant you trusted him, but he wasn’t sure what he was ready to find. Would you be wearing a wedding band on your own time? Did you have pictures up with a boyfriend or girlfriend, or were you in fact, the opposite of everything he thought you to be.

He had absolutely no idea, his breath practically held in his throat as he rapped his knuckles against the door in a few swift knocks, hands place don his daughter’s shoulders as she rolled on the balls of her feet, far more laid back about it all, only having the excitement part of his fear and excitement bundle.

Swinging the door open, you somehow managed to look exactly the same and entirely different all in one. The usual tight ponytail you wore was gone, your hair falling freely around your shoulders, a ripple in it from where the elastic had held it, and your face was free of makeup or sweat and dirt, leaving you looking raw and natural, a softer edge to your appearance. You were clearly in your relaxing mode, he’d only ever seen you in one of two looks; business formal with pencil skirts and blazers and an officiality to your gaze that made him nervous or in gym gear as you kept your world-class abilities up to spec through rigorous training.

You were wearing a hoodie, and a pair of cycle shorts, socks that were reaching just over your knees covered half of your legs, and he cursed under his breath when you crouched over a little, the hem of you hoodie covering the shorts altogether and sending his mind spinning into a series of fantasies and wonderings that he absolutely could not get caught up in.

“Hey there, Emma.” She threw her arms around your neck, letting you hug her back a little as you fell down to your knees from the impact, struggling to wrap your arms around her and her beloved backpack before she was moving from your arms again, and peering around you into your apartment curiously, but never stepping over the threshold. He all but preened with pride as he watched his daughter look up at you, blinking sweetly as she waited to be invited inside instead of just barging into your house, the manners he’d been working on with her for almost a year clearly beginning to take effect. “You wanna’ come in and put your bag down? The couch is right through there.”

She buzzed past you the second you’d spoken the words, squealing with glee as she entered the new place she’d be exploring, and he managed to still his erratically beating heart, taming it down to a simple rhythm, and offering your hand to you to help you up from your crushed position to standing up again.

“Hey, Mitch.”

“Hey. I’m sorry about before, I just got caught off-guard that anyone would be willing to take her, you totally saved me on that, though.” He had practised the words in his head for the entire ride over here, his fingers flexing a little around the handles of the bag he held, filled with enough things to take care of Emma for a week. You only opened the door wider for him, inviting him inside, and he took a couple of steps forwards, the trained assassin in him immediately wanting to take in the environment, memorise everything in case he ever needed the knowledge. There was that one small part of him, however, that was searching for anything that might help him turn his feelings for you down, mute them a little, anything to make you seem a little less perfect in his eyes, but he couldn't find even a trace. “You, um, said you had a spare room? I can put Emma’s stuff away before I go, so you don’t have to unpack it.”

“Oh! Yeah, ‘course, my bad.” You took a step towards the living room, letting him call out to the young girl, who had already tipped out the contents of her toy bag onto the floor, and he cringed a little at the mess that had gathered up. “I wasn’t sure if she was scared of the dark, or anything, With a badass dad like you, I don’t imagine she’s scared of much, but kids are kids, right? I picked up a couple of night light things on my way home, and put them in the sockets around the house, in case she decided to get up in the night, or anything.”

“She’s a pretty heavy sleeper, she doesn't really wake up unless she has a nightmare, in which they’ll definitely help.”

Only a second later, Emma was barrelling into his side, knocking the breath from him as he staggered a little, her body practically bouncing as she weaved between his legs, and he scowled, shaking his he'd a little at her, but knowing he only had himself or blame for her sugar rush, having treated her to far more ice cream earlier than he should have.

It was a simple room - as guests rooms go, but Emma seemed to love it, unzipping her bag and ragging out her favourite blanket to spread over the bedsheets front he second that it had been released, a ‘Frozen’ blanket covering the white bedding in all the spots it reached, looking more like a misplace square in the middle of the large bed, and she star-fished across the centre of it as he busied himself with unpacking her clothes into the drawers, all the lower ones that she could reach, and making sure she could see where he’d put everything for her.

“I have a big bed now, like yours, daddy.” She was more than contented, and Mitch sat down beside her, watching as he rolled onto her stomach, before crawling over to take a seat in his lap, smiling up at you widely as you leaned against the wall and watched the two have their moment. “Do you have a big bed, too?”

“I have the biggest bed, ever! I could fit, like, seven Emma’s in it?”

She giggled as you stepped over, tickling at her sides a little, and he caught a whiff of the sweet shampoo you must’ve used only recently, the essence of coconuts and mangoes drifting into the air at your close proximity. “Only seven? Daddy’s bed could fit eight!”

“No way, that’s totally impossible!”

“It’s way possible!” She shouted, her voice echoing in his ear as he winced at the volume, but it didn’t dampen the smile on her face as he watched the two of you laugh together like it had been the funniest joke in the world. “Can I show you my dolls? I have to get them ready first, though.”

“Well, I will wait right here until they're ready, then!”

She squirmed in his arms, and he let her go, leaving just the two of you, and you took a seat beside him on the bed, bumping your shoulder to his for only as second, and it was still enough to make his heart skip a beat.

“She’ll be totally okay, Mitch. I promise, I won’t let anything happen to her, she’ll have a great time.” Your words soothed him a little, the familiar sense of feeling like his throat was closing up every time he had to leave the most precious thing in his life, but he felt a little more reassured by your voice and your statement.

“I know she will, I trust you.”

The words meant more to him than you knew, it was hard for him to trust people but for whatever reason it was, he trusted you with everything he had, before reaching for the bag, still a few items laying in it.

“This is her teddy, she’s going to insist she’s a big girl and doesn’t need it because she wants to impress you, but she can’t sleep without it. Also, I wrote down some stuff in this notebook for you, as well as the emergency numbers for her doctor, and such. If you need it, her allergies are in here too, and just some information you might need..” You took it from him, the teddy sitting in your lap as you flicked through the notebook, grinning a little as you settled on one page.

“Favourite pizza toppings; chicken and sweetcorn?”

He shrugged, grinning a little as heat flooded his cheeks, but you brushed your fingers over the pages, nibbling on your lower lip as you read some of the words he’d scribbled down, and his eyes were drawn into the action. You were talking, he could tell because your lips were moving, and he had to tear his eyes up from your mouth before you caught him staring, and when he managed to tune back in, he was grateful to hear you were just reading aloud, and weren’t saying anything important that he’d missed.

Emma was calling you through, claiming the doll show to be ready, and he couldn't help but be happy that she had settled in so quickly, making him all that much more confident and secure in leaving her here with you for the time he was away. He followed after you dumbly as you carried the notebook away, placing it on the kitchen counter as you passed by, before he could see his daughter, kneeling on the floor and positioning her toys, the row of dolls lined up along the edge of the coffee table.

“Em, I have to go now, are you going to come say goodbye?”

She turned to look at him, her smile falling away for only a moment, before a smaller one was taking its place guilt clawing at his insides as he watched her stand up and wobble her way over to him on shaky little legs, before lifting her arms up for him to lift her into his arms.

Her little arms wrapped around his neck, legs sealing to his waist as she buried her face into his neck, cheek pressed to his shoulder, short little puffs of breath washing over his skin, and Mitch buried his nose in his daughter's hair, hearing you leave the room to give them their space, a nation that he appreciated from you as he felt tears burn behind his eyes.

“Miss you ‘ready, daddy.”

Her words were muffled by the way she was positioned, a breathy laugh leaving him as he nodded, peppering the expanse of the side of her head and face that he could reach with little kisses. “I’m gonna’ miss you a whole bunch, princess, but I’ll be back real soon, okay?”

“‘Kay.”

“You’re going to be good, right?”

“The best, I swears it.” She pulled back, holding out one of her pinkies for him, and he adjusted her to rest her weight on the forearm wrapped under her legs, before linking his pinky with hers, and kissing their joined hands.

“That's my good girl, now you can go and play.”

She was happy to be let back down to the floor, and you reappeared, giving him a gentle smile before walking him the door, dread and anticipation filling him as he turned back to look at his little girl, waving when she looked up at him, pausing her playing.

“I’ll be as quick as I can, and thank you so much for doing this.”

“Any time, really, I don’t mind even one bit.” Your words were honest and true, making him feel a little reassured, before he could hear the scuffling of socks on the carpet as Emma appeared behind you, tugging on your hand before raising her arms a little, mailing when you picked her up. Balancing her on your hip, she rested her head on your shoulder, holding on with one hand and reaching out a flat palm towards him, wiggling her fingers the best way she knew how to.

It was far too domestic, the way the two of you already had a dynamic that was intimate and sweet, his breath getting caught in his lungs as he looked at the pair of you, his imagination spiralling to places he didn’t have time to go to right now, but he knew would creep up on him later when he was on the plane. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to the top of his daughter's head, and suppressing the urge to look up and brush his lips to your own, settling for a simple nod, before swallowing thickly as he tried to force himself to move away from you both.

“I heard someone’s favourite pizza toppings were chicken and sweetcorn. How about we go inside and have a little look for some takeout places, yeah? You want pizza?”

You looked up at him for the approval, the distraction he was grateful for as his daughter’s wide eyes finally left him, because if she had stared for much longer he may have broken down entirely and stayed, but now it was easier. The spell was broken as he stepped away, mumbling a final goodbye to you both, before watching as the door closed, your smile and Emma’s wave to see him off, before he was able to release his breath, snap himself out of it, and walk away.

The second he’d landed, he was out of the plane and into the car, snatching up his bag and leaving the runway, encouraging the man sent to pick him up to speed up a little as he headed back towards the main building from the airport. He had to debrief, but it was a quick thing to accomplish, most of the work being documents online that could easily be completed and submitted as he wrote up a report of what happened, but more importantly, he’d have his daughter back by then.

The car seemed like it was only getting slower and slower, despite the fact that he knew it wasn’t, and as they finally pulled up into the parking lot, his stomach finally being able to unknot and relax as he saw his daughter, her hand linked through Stan’s as the man held a face like thunder - as usual - while Emma talked his ear off, uncaring of whether he wanted to hear the words or not.

From the moment he had the door open, he could hear her racing forward to meet him, and Mitch dropped down to his knees to catch his daughter’s body as she hurled herself into him, a collision that knocked the breath from his lungs, but he clung to her tightly. Little arms wrapped around his neck as he sealed his own around her little frame, one hand cupping the back of her head, smoothing her hair down as she gave him a tight hug, before pulling back and holding his face in her hands, scrunching up her face as she pressed a kiss to the end of his nose.

“You’re home!”

“I’m home, for a long time, too, I hope.” He glanced up at Stan, who was pulling out a cigarette from the box behind him, standing back from Emma now that he could smoke without her being too close, and lighting up the death stick in his mouth, making sure to blow the smoke up above his head, just in case. Looking down at his daughter, his brows furrowed at the sparkly blue and pink tutu around her waist, layers of netting sticking out with gems and sequins sewn along the waistline, it was a real eyesore, and exactly the kind of thing a child would adore. “I’ve never seen this one before, where did you get it?”

He picked his girl up, balancing her across his front as he stood up to his full height, and taking his bag with him. “(Y/N) bought it for me! I wanted to play princesses, but I didn't have my dresses. She let out a sigh, smoothing little hands over the netting to press it down, before it was popping up again a moment later, and she seemed satisfied with whatever actions she’d taken.

“And where is (Y/N)?”

Emma simply shrugged, choosing to busy herself with taking fistfuls of his hair and running her fingers through it before patting it down, and his attention moved to Stan, watching as he smoked quietly and watched the scene. “I took over looking after Emma this morning, she got a call in the middle of the night from Irene, a lead on her big case that she thought had gone cold last year. Popped back up, a sudden occurrence. She wasn’t going to go, but she had to, we both knew it.”

Mitch could only nod, knowing how hard you’d worked on that case, and how much it really did need to be closed, and his heart warmed at the fact you would give it all up to care for Emma, but he completely understood. It didn't stop the spark of disappointment that shot through him when he realised he wouldn’t get a chance to thank you personally, however, because he’d been particularly hoping that he would be functional enough to maybe try and string some words together, and ask if he could repay you by taking you out to dinner.

His confidence was already draining from him, the adrenaline and victory high he’d been on that had spurred the idea on the first place was melting away, and he sighed out a little, not knowing when the next time he’d get to see you would be.

“Shame, would’ve been nice to see her.” He cleared his throat as Hurley’s eyes narrowed on him for the comment, and he shrugged his free shoulder. “Thank her for looking after Em, check how it all went, you know.”

“Uh-huh.” The man didn’t seem to believe him, but he didn't comment on it, instead dropping the butt of the cig to the floor and stomping it out, before opening the back of his car with a click of his car keys, the bags he had dropped his daughter off with were sitting in the back. “Well she’s gone by now, but I have Emma’s stuff for you, now get in the car so I can take you both home. There’s a reason I didn’t have my own children, y’know.”

Mitch scowled at him, glancing at his daughter, who seemed to know exactly what he meant and was uncaring as she grinned wickedly at Stan, who glared back equally at the girl, before offering her a smile.

“C’mon, Emma, I’m not moving your car seat from the front, your dad can ride in the back.”

She clapped her hands with a loud squeal, before squirming from his arms and into Stan’s, letting him toss his bag in the back and slam the trunk shut, before clambering into the back seat as his superior started up the car.

It was two months before Mitch got to see you again, and he worried for you every single day because of it. Emma would not stop asking about you, she’d spent at least the entirety of the first month telling him about everything the two of you had gotten up to over your time spent together on repeat, until he felt like he could tell the stories himself.

Emma had decided that her latest obsessions had moved on from playing house to holding tea parties, her dollies no longer being her children but instead being her guests, and the backpack carrying plastic guns and princess crowns had been swapped out for a miniature briefcase with a portable tea set, one that flipped over to make a table for her to sit at. The entire set had cost him over a hundred dollars, and he was absolutely certain that he could have constructed himself a better one for ten dollars and a trip to target, but he didn’t have the time for that.

Emma had taken to setting up the table beside the ring, the boxing back, or the equipment that he was working on whenever he came to the gym, Irene beginning to get at him to find a new nanny so that no children were wandering around the building anymore, but he had seen her accept a fake plastic cup on multiple occasions, and even once caught her letting Emma label files with the label maker in her office, so he wasn’t taking the threat all that seriously.

Other agents had chipped in too, because they didn't have the willpower to resist a four-year-old with pigtails blinking up at them, wide-eyed with a pout as she holds a painted plastic teapot and an empty plastic mug to match. No matter how frequently her attention was taken away - a fact he was entirely grateful for, because he had no idea how to attend a ‘tea party’ - for a split second, her questions always came down to when you’d be back, and Mitch was beginning to lose his mind a little bit, running out of excuses.

He was pounding away on a punching bag, his daughter sitting beside him and singing a little tune to herself in the almost empty gym as she occasionally offered him ‘sips of tea’ from the empty cup, before Stan was bursting in through the doors with extreme force and speed, and Mitch’s stomach twisted at the idea that he was either about to get bollocked, or given an assignment.

Pulling up the edge of his shirt to wipe the sweat from his face, he placed a hand flat on the sandbag to bring it's swinging to a stop.

It wasn’t him that Stan was looking for, though, it was Emma. He offered the girl a smile, an expression reserved for her and her only, as she spun around to him, thrusting a teacup into his hand as he came to a stop and crouched before her. “I have a surprise for you, kiddo.”

“You do?” He nodded, and she squealed excitedly, pulling a doll away from one of the seats on the floor by its foot, tossing it to the side in a way that Mitch had certainly done with actual people, a smirk flicking at his lips as the slightly macabre thought of ‘like father, like daughter’ flickered across his mind, watching as she falsely filled Stan’s cup up with tea. “What is the surprise, Mr Stan?”

She sounded exasperated already, and both of them chuckled at her strained voice as she all but bounced on her feet. “Guess who’s back?”

Mitch felt his own heart skip a beat, licking over his lips and trying to control himself from jumping into the conversation, choosing instead to unwrap his hands of his boxing tape slowly, pretending like he wasn’t quite as invested in this news as he actually was. Stan confirmed Emma’s guess when she finally reached your name, coming third in her guesses behind Scooby-Doo and Princess Sofia, and he wasn’t sure when either of the fictional characters had gone missing, but apparently, in her mind, they were a dire missing person’s case.

He only had to wait around five minutes, before he caught glimpses of you going along, two interns following behind you, a whirl of beauty and grace, before you were entering the gym, dead set on making your way towards the lockers and showers.

He could see you more clearly now, anger on your face as blood and dirt covered you almost from head to toe, and you still managed to look beautiful. One of the junior agents following behind you was holding up a phone, microphone pointed towards you as you spoke, listing off every detail of the case that you possibly could, as the other held out a packet of antiseptic wipes and a plastic bag, each time you fingers plucked another one from the packet to scrub at your skin, the old one being collected.

With a black eye and a bust lip, he still thought that you looked beautiful, the stunning hair and makeup up-do that you must’ve had done was completely destroyed, but the silk gown hugging your body seemed almost intact, save for the blood spatters and dirt, and you ran your fingers through your hair, pulling out the clips holding it up and teasing the knots in the strands.

Every further look he took, you seemed more and more exhausted and battered, the bruises on your arms a chest obvious to him now, the scratches and cuts that were inflamed and red, poorly patched up with in the field medical supplies, a miss matching collection of band-aids and gauze, and Mitch almost had to cover his daughter's ears as he realised just how many curse words and language he wasn’t ready from her to hear yet were spilling from her mouth, but you beat him to it, mouth snapping shut.

You’d looked around now, noticing the three of them in the corner, and came to a full halt, a deep sigh leaving you as you met Emma’s eyes, his daughter staring up at you in awe and wonder. Lifting a hand, you waved your fingers at her in a sweet wave, dismissing the two agents who were quick to scurry away. You kicked off your heels, leaving them discarded on the floor as you unstrapped a gun from your thigh, dropping it and the holster to the floor, before holding your arms out to her.

“Princess, be careful! (Y/N) is-”

He cringed, words a little too late as he watched Emma barrel herself into you, almost knocked flat on your back as you caught her in your kneeled position, and he heard the breath forced from your lungs as a whine.

“Injured. She’s injured, Em, just like daddy sometimes is when he comes home. We have to be gentle, remember?” She simply nodded, pulling back a little with a soft apology under her breath, and you brushed her hair back, pinching her cheek and letting her take your hand as you stood back up. “I’m so sorry about that.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’ve been waiting to see this little cutie again for months, anyway.” You brushed it off, but he could hear the tiredness in your voice and see the slight wobble as you studio up, swaying despite not moving and walking, and he worried a little more for you. Stan placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, wishing you a congratulations before following in the direction that the other agents had gone, and leaving the three of you alone in the room. Emma took her hand from yours, pulling off her trainers to place her tiny feet into your heels, trying to balance and shuffle forwards, and you reached a hand out to steady yourself on his shoulder, shaking your head clear a little bit. “I haven’t slept for, like, three days. I’m exhausted.”

“Well, you still look nice. Beautiful, really. You look great.”

You raised your brows at him for a second, looking down at yourself and taking it all in, before a soft laugh was leaving your lips. “I look a mess, but I do appreciate the confidence boost.”

He joined in with your laughs, his heart feeling completely full, and he swallowed thickly to try and choke down his anxiety. You both turned to watch Emma shuffle around, taking tiny steps as she found her rhythm in your heels, looking adorable as she carried around a teacup in one hand and two massively oversized heels in the other.

“Will you stay for tea with us?”

“Oh, Em, I think (Y/N) is probably a bit tired tonight, mayb-”

You squeezed his shoulder, his head cutting to turn to you, and you shook your head at him a little bit. “I would love to, Emmy. Did you make the tea yourself?”

She gasped, nodding excitedly as she abandoned her heels and dashed over to the table again, finding another cup and setting you a place, getting lost in her own world as she listed off the different kind of teas she ‘had’, the list sounding exactly like the aisles at Walmart she’d forced him to stand in for thirty minutes as she memorised them three days ago. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, totally. Why don’t you go shower up, and then when you get back, you can drive me home, because I’m pretty sure I’ll fall asleep behind the wheel if I drive.”

He grinned, ducking his head for only a second, before confirming that he would. “I won’t be long. Promise.”

The next few weeks felt like a slow slide turning into an avalanche, like he’d been slipping on his feet a little for the past few years and was no tumbling like a cartoon down a snowy mountainside, becoming an ever-growing snowball before the brick wall he was bound to hit into sooner or later.

He had been perfectly capable of keeping his feelings under wraps while you barely interacted, greeting one another in the corridor when he was able to pass with simple grunts and on syllable responses, but now you talked. He had somehow managed to make a friend of you, your smiling face every time he passed you by making him feel like he was heating up from the inside, fire bursting from his fingertips anytime, and he wondered if he looked as red in the face as he felt each time.

Mitch could now confirm that without a doubt, he was head over heels in love with you, and you had absolutely no idea. At this point, he didn’t really have anything left within himself to even chastise his heart for making this decision against logic and reason’s advisement, because you were absolutely everything he needed. He never had to lie to you about where he was, or what he was doing, and when he'd had a particularly rough day or assignment, you understood what he needed, sitting with him quietly and swapping the coffee that made him jittery out for a calming camomile tea. You loved his daughter, and she loved you, and you’d managed to support him along his single-fatherhood like nobody else had, making everything seem a little bit easier, because he had a friend to go through it with.

You were always willing to offer a helping hand, a comforting comment or a funny joke to cheer him up, and you’d never said no at the chance of seeing Emma. Said little girl had attached herself to you like a barnacle, wanting to spend as much time with you as she possibly could, and it was both a blessing and a curse for him. On the one hand, any time you were around, Emma didn’t want his mediocre guest skills, because as it had turned out, you were an excellent tea pastry guest. You had the popped up little pinky, and the small talk to match, and you’d even somehow found a set of saucers that match the pattern to give to her when her fifth birthday had passed by. The problem was, when you were sitting on the gym floor and drinking fake tea with his little girl, his concentration was anywhere but the sparring matches and boxing bags, and he often found himself on his back and pinned to the floor by recruits, or being smacked in the face by a bag that swung back at him with force.

His body and face were constantly littered with healing bruises, and there was no chance that Emma was ever going to take her sights off of you, because she had decided that you were her new role model, his chest aching at the thought that he couldn't provide a mother figure for his daughter, that she was growing up and scrabbling to learn front the women around her.

He thought it was adorable that she’d started wearing her dresses more, just so she could tuck her nerf gun into the waistband of her leggings in claims that she wanted to match the way wore your gun under your dress too, or the way she’d started trying to tie her own hair up in the same style you did, but she needed more.

She needed someone to teach her how to paint her nails when she was older and help her pick out an outfit for prom, and to teach her about the women’s side of things, because Mitch still didn’t understand the difference between pads with wings and the ones without, and at what age you’re supposed to move onto tampons, and why a skincare routine needed to be so intense, and what the fuck purple shampoo was, and he didn’t know what to do about it all.

Most of all, he was just glad to have someone back in his life that didn’t bark orders at him or rely on him. Emma was a handful, and he loved her with all of his heart, and Stan was a good enough friend but still a tough superior, and he hadn't had a friend of his own in years, and sometimes, when he finally got to sit down on his couch with a cold beer in hand after putting Emma to bed and having some time to himself, he let his mind wander.

He’d daydream about having someone with him, having you with him, having a friend to talk to. He was lonely in the nights, and when the bed felt cold, and when he never had anyone to share his thoughts with that Emma wasn’t old enough to understand. Being closed off had always helped him, because his number one priority always had been and always would be his daughter, he didn’t want anyone coming into his life that she may not like or that may hurt her, and yet Emma had chosen you all on her own. She had seen you, picked you out by hand and decided that you were everything she wanted to be when she grew up, and he couldn't blame her in the slightest, because he couldn't imagine a better role model.

All of thee thoughts seemed to come spilling over one day when he had intended to say a simple thank you, catching you just before you’d moved away to hit the showers, while Emma was still built giggling with Stan as he helped her fire her latest new child-friendly firearm addition at the newest targets, one of the interns moving around with a bullseye on his chest as she shot foam bullets at him.

“I just wanted to say thanks.”

“For what?” You were a little bit breathless and sweaty, and you were licking your lips on repeat as you tried to get them to stay wet after your intense workout, and his mind was short-circuiting a little bit.

“Everything. Lately.” He barely even paused for breath, before his mouth was continuing without his mind's approval. “I know you have no obligation to us, or to my Em, but she looks up to you, she adores you, and I think it’s good for her to have a mom-type role.” His eyes widened as you laughed a little, and he felt like he was choking on his own tongue as he tried to figure out how to backpedal from that statement. “Oh, God, not that you are her mom, y’know, just that she has a female role-model, because she needs it, I can’t imagine anyone better for her to want to aspire to be like than you, you're an incredible influence!”

With a hand on his arm, you cut off his rambling, and his ears were ringing with the pressure slamming about inside his head, the internal loop of his thoughts now just have become a loud screaming that accurately represented how he felt.

Your lips were pursed together now as you tried to hold in a grin, your thumb rubbing over his bicep in what he was sure was supposed to be a comforting motion but was actually just driving him more and more insane, the domesticity of the sweet actions meant he was definitely reading a little to far into them, but he didn’t care, because he was taking a deep breath as he tried to calm himself down, matching the rise and fall of his shoulders with yours, until subconsciously, he was able to relax once again.

“I always kinda’ wanted a kid, but in this line of work, you don’t really get the chance to meet anyone, never mind meet anyone that wants kids themselves, so I’m glad she’s taken an attachment to me.” You seemed to panic a little at your own words there, his lips flicking up at the sides, in knowing he wasn’t the only one struggling with his words right now. “I’m not trying to steal your baby Mitch, I just love her to bits, and I’m more than happy spending time with her. She’s an amazing little girl, and you’ve done such a good job raising her. You are a fantastic father, Mitch.”

He took a moment to wonder if ‘heart eyes’ were a real thing, or whether there were little birds flying around his head, maybe a massive neon sign above him that simply read ‘I am so fucking in love with you that it hurts’, because that is how he felt, hearing you compliment his parenting abilities, his daughter and their family all in one. His voice felt hoarse as he tried to speak, coughing a little to clear it, but unable to tear his gaze away from yours as he spoke the raspy words, voice cracking a little; “Thank you.”

“I’m going to go wash up, alright?”

He could only nod, his eyes widening to the size of golf balls when your hand slipped up from his arm, across his shoulder and to his cheek, before your lips were pressing to the other, brushing smoothly over rough stubble in a soft peck, before turning away from him and disappearing before his very sight behind the set of double doors leading to the shower rooms. He knew his face was red this time, knew that he was absolutely shocked as he felt like he was going to combust at any moment, whilst also wanting nothing more than to let his weak knees give way so that he could collapse down into the cold floor until his instincts were no longer in overdrive.

Turning around, he was even more mortified to find Emma balanced on Hurley’s hip, watching with a grin as his mentor stared at him with a wide and knowing smirk.

“Daddy and (Y/N) sittin’ in a tree!”

He fixed his daughter with a stern look, taking a step over, and dread filled him when his boss chuckled, before taking a deep breath, and he already knew what was coming next, the two of them chanting the rhyme together;

“K-I-S-S-I-N-G!”

People began to look over at them from the sheer volume of the combined voices, and he snatched his daughter away, scowling at his mentor as he did. He was an assassin, for fuck’s sake, he didn’t have to listen to this shit. Once he knew she wouldn't see it, Mitch was holding his finger up to flip off the older man, before ducking down to scoop up his daughter’s things, and fleeing from the gym before he had to listen to any more of Stan’s teasing, the now knowing for sure that Mitch had one very big weak spot.

That moment had been the result of over a month’s worth of teasing since, smirks in his direction anytime you were within Mitch’s general presence, and like some high school chain of gossip, Stan had passed the information onto Irene, who had told her IT guy and her personal assistant, and he wasn’t sure how many other people knew by now, but it had to be at least half of the people he ever interacted with. Which was a fair fucking amount.

Now, he really did feel like a high schooler with a crush all over again.

He was actively trying not to think about it, instead watching Emma colour in one of the tigers in her colouring book with a green crayon and blue stripes, red eyes that were a little bit haunting in his opinion, when the door knocked quietly and repetitively, and they both froze up a little. Emma was out of her chair like a dash, though, racing toward the front door before he could stop her, and Mitch felt his heart rise up in his throat as she reached for the handle, swinging it open to the unknown arrival and possible threat, before his breath was hitching in his throat.

He wasn’t sure if he was nervous, elated, confused, or a mixture of all three at seeing you standing on his doorstep. A pair of jeans and a baggy jumper, you hair sitting naturally instead of pulled back tightly once again, but this time you wore a little bit of makeup, and you looked softer than he’d ever seen you, possibly even passing for a simple civilian, covered from being a top-secret agent of the highest calibre for just one night.

“Uh, hi?”

He hated the way his word came out, wishing he’d managed to sound more welcoming, but instead he’d managed to sound on edge and crass, your brows furrowing a little as you looked at him, before shaking your head fondly. “This was Emmy’s doing, wasn’t it?”

“What is this, exactly?”

You opened your mouth to reply, before the girl he’d been trying to hold behind him damaged to break free, a high-pitched yell on her lips as she wrapped her arms around your legs, crushing her face into her stomach as she laughed excitedly. “You came! You really came over!”

You crouched down when she pulled away, a smile on your lips, but it didn’t reach your eyes, and Emma placed her hands on your shoulders when you were at her height. “You have been lying and keeping secrets, little missy!” You tickled at her sides lightly, and she crumpled into laughter, before you were continuing. “Your daddy did not invite me over for dinner, did he? You can’t just go around inviting people to dinner!”

“I didn’t lie! Or keep secrets, swearsies!” She stuck her pinky out in your direction, and you didn’t accept it immediately, making her sigh over-dramatically. “Daddy says surprises don’t count as lying if it’s a good surprise, and I know you’re his friend and playdates are always fun and I wanted to surprise him.”

He knew she was trying to whisper, but wasn’t doing an excellent job of it, and he felt his frown slipping away, instead smoothing a hand over her hair to draw her attention up to him. “You’d better go and set an extra place at the table, Em. Clear away your drawings, and later, me and you and going to talk about inviting people over to the house without my permission, okay?”

She frowned, her entire face screwing up with the motion, but she nodded nonetheless, and you shifted to show the tote bag that was tucked under your arm, before pulling out a green bottle, a fancy label on the front as you handed it over to her, Emma’s face lighting up as he dashed inside with the gift.

“Did you just give my daughter a bottle of wine?”

You gasped, standing up to your full height before him, shaking your head fervently. “Of course not! I gave her an old wine bottle filled up with sparkling grape soda so she can feel all grown up!”

“You did all that just for Emma’s impromptu dinner party?” You shuffled from foot to foot, nodding a little, and he felt his heart melt as an entirely new side of you shone through, a new you that was different to the confident and bold woman he knew while on duty, and leaving him with a slightly anxious sweetheart in an oversized jumper. “That’s fucking adorable, you know that, right?”

“I’m not adorable.” You mumbled, and he laughed, reaching out to pinch your cheek before you swatted it away, and the energy between you both felt completely different. He wasn’t nervous with the real you, he was only nervous with the work you. This side of you put him at ease, this side of you made him feel comfortable and relaxed, and he didn’t feel his heart try to burst out of his chest too hard when you smiled back at him this time. “Are you sure you want me here? I can go home, I should have known better, texted you beforehand to check, or something.”

“Do you mind eating dinosaur chicken nuggets and smiley face waffles?”

“That sounds amazing, actually.” He beamed, swinging the door open a little wider for you, and welcoming you into his home, your shoes being toed off by the door as you pulled the sleeves down over your hands, before spinning to him with a sudden intake of breath as he closed the door and remembered to put the highest locks on again. “I bought something for you, too.”

“Is it wine in a grape soda bottle?”

“You wish.” You teased presenting him with a bottle of wine, the cork still in it, and he took it from you, grinning as he looked it over, before meeting your curious gaze, and putting your nerves to rest.

“We can have it after Emma goes to bed, maybe?”

It was a bold move, and he knew it, but at this point, he didn’t have much of his dignity or pride left to lose, and it seemed to pay off as you leaned into him a little, letting out a light breath. “I’d love that.”

He placed the bottle of red down on the coffee table, leaving it there before he had a hand on your lower back, and was guiding you through to the kitchen where Emma was trying to work out which side of the plate the knife was supposed to go on, and which side was the fork.

As much as he admired and adored his daughter’s intentions, he really wished he known, because Mitch found himself dishing up the most un-sophisticated dinner ever, and standing in a slightly messy kitchen to match a slightly messy apartment, covered in children’s toys and carpets he hadn't vacuumed in almost two weeks, wearing sweatpants and a shirt with a hole in the arm that was faded from all the wear and tear it had seen over the years.

He did the best he could, though, because this was the kind of moment he never thought he’d get to have with you, and he busied himself with splitting up the meal, taking all the brontosaurus' and triceratops into your and his plates, because Emma only liked the t-rex’s and the pterodactyls, claiming they tasted different. Arranging them around the outside, he filled the middle with the number of smiley faces that she’d actually at, despite knowing she’d argue for more. Fishing out the ketchup, he squirted the sauce out, shaping it in a couple of hearts, before picking up her plate and placing it down in front of her, placing a kiss to the top of her head.

Your plate was next, the bottle of ketchup going down into the middle of the table as he sat down opposite you. As predicted, Emma complained about the quantities, before tucking in, constantly talking with her mouthful as she tried to add to the conversation. He drank sparkling grape soda from an old wine bottle with you both, and watched as Emma told you everything she could possibly think of that you may not already know, before offering to show off her bedroom to you after dinner.

He both hated and loved how naturally you bonded with his daughter, and how seeing you sitting across from him eating kids meals and having a biased thumb war with his five-year-old at the dinner table felt like something that was meant to be in his life, and definitely something he knew he could get used to. You helped clean up, standing by his side and washing the pots as he dried and put them away, much to your insistence as he told you you didn't have to, and Emma pinned up her blue and green demon-tiger on the fridge, before clearing away her crayons and going to clean her teeth.

You let her give you the ‘grand tour’ of her bedroom as he leaned in the doorway, trying not to think about how he’d very much like to give you the grand tour of his bedroom, and distracting himself by picking out the bedtime story he’d read to her once she was settled under the covers.

He found you again once the girl was asleep, flicking out the lights and finding you sitting on his couch, passing your time by quietly reading the book he’d had out on the coffee table, seemingly already further through it than he’d had the chance to get in over a week, but closing it up when he sat down beside you, two real wine glasses and a corkscrew in hand as he offered one to you.

You shifted as he sat down, resting your feet in his lap once he’d popped the cork out, whispering a quiet ‘thank you’ once your glass had been filled, and just like that, you were once again dragging him down into that hazy feeling he’d spent the entire night in, leaning his head on the cushion, and letting the first things that came to mind spill from his mouth. The conversation took off from there, starting as you conversed the book he had out, and moving to other books, before movies and TV shows, general likes and dislikes, learning one another slowly.

Everything you told him made him like you a little bit more, your quirks and sharp edges, a kind of devotion finding a place in his heart that he never thought he’d feel again as you continued on, before the topic had switched to the future. He spilled his fears, that he wanted Emma to do private elementary schooling, but to attend an actual middle and high school, to get the full experience like she deserved, but that he also just wanted to protect her from the entire world. He confessed that he constantly felt like he was failing, tearing up when he told you about how he was certain he couldn't give her as much as she deserved, leaning into your hand when you wiped away the tear that fell free, and you spilled your own wishes to him.

Everything before the trauma that had landed you in the CIA at a younger age than him, and that no relationship had ever worked out for you, because you could never get past the ‘so, what do you do for a living?’ stage, and could never move in with someone, plan dates, or make a future. You told him about how you still wanted the same little things all little girls wanted, a pretty wedding and a devoted spouse and a beautiful child to raise into the world and add to society, to leave a legacy behind in the form of a beautiful person who would live their own life, and that you worried you’d never get it.

By the end of the bottle, the two of you were more than tipsy, and he felt like he'd known you forever, his body pressed to yours, and an arm wrapped around you as your head leaned on his shoulder, deep sighs leaving you both.

“I’m sorry if tonight was a total fail.”

You shifted, just slightly, before raising a hand, weaving your fingers with his on the hand sitting over your shoulder. “Why would you think that?”

“It’s been.. a while since I last took a pretty woman out for dinner, and it isn’t supposed to be soda and chicken nuggets, and you shouldn’t wear sweatpants, that’s for sure.” You turned a little, pressing the rumble of your laugh into his shoulder, and he didn't even have enough inhibition to be embarrassed about his lack of filter.

“Tell you what, Mitch, if you want to take me out to dinner, then I will dress up all pretty to be on your arm. But, for the record, I am more than happy to spend a dinner date with you and Emma eating kid’s food, in sweatpants and hoodies.” He whined a little under his breath, before pulling back enough to look at you, and resting his forehead on your own.

“Do you have any idea how perfect you are?”

Your breath hitched a little from his words, and he twisted his head, enough to bump his nose with your own as he tasted your breath on his lips, licking over his own and working up the nerve to close his mouth in against your own, slot them together in a simple kiss.

He didn’t get the chance, before you were both jumping apart in slight shock when Emma’s bedroom door clicked open, the two of you watching the girl shuffle down the hall, rubbing at her eyes, entirely unaware of her surroundings as she moved into the bathroom, the door closing behind her. The atmosphere felt entirely shattered, his confidence shooting back down to the floor, the startle from his daughter sobering him up a little, now.

“I should go, it’s probably quite late.”

He only nodded, grabbing the empty bottle and the glasses, running them through to the kitchen and leaving them for himself to sort in the morning, before meeting you by the front door. You were tugging your shoes back on, your hood pulled up over your head to fight the cold that waited outside, and your bag on your arm again.

“I meant it, though. I had an amazing night.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You breathed, pressing a kiss to his cheek again, this one lingering, you forehead bumping his temple as you pulled back, before you were waving to him and walking away toward the stairs, letting him watch until you were sealed within the box and taken from his sights, and he locked the front door once again.

When he turned, Emma was standing there, her thumb in her mouth as she stared up at him, and he reached down, plucking it from between her lips and wiping it off, crouching down before her.

“Do you love (Y/N)?” He all but choked on his breath, staring down at the little girl in shock, before she yawned again, covering her mouth and shrugging her shoulders. Lifting her arms up, she allowed Mitch to pick her up, flicking off the lights in the house as he went, heading away with a destination of her bedroom as her face settled into his neck. “I love (Y/N). She's my bestest friend.”

He placed her down onto the mattress delicately, the nightlight in her room casting a soft pink glow over her features, and he smiled sadly as he looked at her, little eyes fluttering shut as she snuggled back into her blankets. He could see so much of Katrina in her features, sure that they would only develop more as she grew older, but it no longer hurt to look at her like it did in the first year, and he no longer felt that same pang of pain in his heart at the flash of her face across his mind, just nostalgia that made his heart slow a little, for only a second, in memory of someone it had lost.

In addition, though, he could see so much of you in her personality. His little girl was brave, and confident, and would be truly unstoppable one day, and he loved it, stroking his fingers over her hair and smiling a little when she opened his eyes to peer at him curiously, still waiting for an answer from him.

“I do. I love her too, princess.” She smiled to herself like she’d been told the world’s biggest secret, tucking her face into her pillow some more as sleep began to come back to claim her. “She’s special. She’s like.. like-”

“A queen!”

He laughed a little at her words, finding the teddy bear that had fallen from the bed to the carpet and tucking it under her arm, raising a brow in question. “A queen?”

“I’m the princess.” She murmured, the nickname he gave her so fondly rolling from her lips. “That means you’re the king, and (Y/N) can be the queen.”

The stinging realisation that she was searching for another figure in anyone that she could find made him ache with freezing cold ice from head to toe, his eyes welling up a little bit as he tried to hold a brave face, kissing her forehead as he stood up, bidding her a goodnight as her breathing went shallow, and closing the door again behind him.

“Daddy, can you get married?”

Emma was holding up the last of her Haribo sweets on her finger, before chewing the gummy ring off, and he turned to look at her, raising his head from his work, before turning to glare at Stan as he snickered. “Did you set this up?”

“I did nothing!”

He peered at his daughter's iPad, another scene from ‘Frozen’ up on the screen as Anna and Hans’ voices barely reached his ears through the headphones she’d taken off, and he let out a deep sigh, Stan texting on his phone and ignoring them both, and Mitch placed down the pen for the work he was signing off on. “I want to get married, daddy.”

“One day, princess.”

“I want you to get married, too. Why can’t we have a wedding, daddy?” He rubbed a hand over his eyes, before giving his full attention to his daughter. He wasn’t sure how to answer, or what to say, but she was staring up at him hopefully as she nibbled on a gummy bear, the crown on her head tipping a little bit to the side, and he reached out to place it on her head properly again.

“We can have a wedding if you want to, baby.” He couldn't help it, but her little hands were clapping together excitedly and her face lit up, and he didn’t regret the choice at all. “Stan will officiate.”

“I will do no such thing!” The man insisted, but Emma ignored that, only getting more excited as her hands became fists while she cheered.

“Yay, Mr Stan!”

He glared at Mitch, who only smirked back at him, signing his name in confirmation at the bottom of the papers and finishing them off, the man growling under his breath but being unable to refuse, and Emma was leaping out of her chair, fishing out her other crown, and presenting it proudly.

“Royal crowns! Wedding crowns!”

She stamped her feet excitedly, clutching it to her chest as her entire body all but vibrated with excitement, and he was out of his chair in seconds, scooping her up happily and pressing kisses to her cheeks as the other crown fell away, her childish giggles filling the room as he spun her around.

“Right, right, c’mon then. I have a meeting in ten minutes, so if we’re having a royal wedding, we’re on a timer.”

Hurley let out a heaving sigh as he stood up, the door bursting open a second later as you all but fell through, a more formal outfit than usual on you, a pencil skirt and tight jumper, your eyes wide and phone clutched in hand. “What happened?”

“What?”

“The emergency! What happened?” Mitch looked over at Stan, your eyes following his, and you growled under your breath, picking up one of the croissants from the cart beside you and throwing it across the room at him. “You don’t just text people ‘quick, help, there is an emergency’ when there is no emergency, Stan!”

“There is an emergency! Someone has to marry Mitch!”

“Are you fu-” You cut yourself off, pinching the bridge of your nose, before walking over to them and covering Emma’s ears. “Are you fucking kidding me, Stan? I was in a debriefing.”

“I thought I was marrying Emma?” Mitch felt like he was talking to himself as he realised he'd been set up, Emma arranging him until he was facing you, her hands on your hips as she turned you to face him, and suddenly, he couldn’t breathe again. Since your dinner a few weeks ago, neither of you had spoken about what had almost happened, slipping right back to being close friends, and he wasn’t sure whether or not to take that as a good sign.

He couldn't help but think about how odd this entire situation was, the child of the fiancée who had died was holding a fake marriage to someone else, someone she had seemed to have adopted as her own motherly figure, and he felt like it was all a little too weird to actually focus on for too long.

“Em, do you remember what we said about surprises?”

“Yes! You said surprises are okay!” She growled a little at him, her best wolf impression as she tried to get him to back down, and he returned it, watching as her face screwed up with anger and her arms crossed. “Surprises are okay if it makes everyone happy, that’s what you said, daddy!”

“Yes, but how do you know everyone is happy, Emma?”

“Because you love (Y/N)!” Mitch wanted the ground to open up and suck him in, possibly just let him never return, but then someone has to look after Emma, and he didn't even bother to cover her ears as he let a string of curses fall from his mouth, embarrassment flaring up warmth across his entire body, swelling in his chest all the way up to the tips of his ears in a suffocating heat as his head dropped. “It’s okay, daddy! (Y/N) loves you too! Mr Stan says so!”

He heard the dull thud of what sounded like a very solid punch being delivered to Stan, and he had been about to take the same action himself feeling a little bit better at knowing the man got a dig in for his sneaky actions.

“You have to get married and be happy, daddy.”

“Yeah, Rapp. You have to be happy. It’s an order.” He looked up at the man, a more genuine look on his face than any he had ever seen, and he gave in a little, finally managing to drag his eyes up to meet yours. You reached out, taking his hands in yours and pulling him in a little closer to you, as you winked at his daughter, and looked back up to him.

Stan cleared his throat, lifting Emma onto his hip, and she clutched two crowns excitedly in her hands. “We are gathered here today, to join Mitch Rapp and (Y/N) (Y/L/N) in the most epic royal wedding ever.” Emma giggled at his words, nodding in agreement. “Do you, Mitch Rapp, take (Y/N) to be your royally wedded wife?”

He turned, licking over his lips, seeing your little nod to him in a promise that it was okay, before Emma was staring up at him hopefully, and Stan was glaring at him like he’d be shot at dawn by a firing squad if he didn’t agree.

“Yes.”

“Fantastic. (Y/N), do you take Mitch Rapp to be your royally wedded husband?” You rolled your eyes, laughing a little, before nodding your head, and grinning when Emma cheered loudly.

“I do.”

“Emma, the wedding crowns?” He lifted her up, allowing her to place the green one into his hair and the blue one into your own, fixing them to her liking before Stan was pulling her back down to a regular level, and placing her down on the floor. “Would you like to say it?”

He honestly didn't think he could get any worse, or that he could be any more embarrassed than he already was, but then his daughter's next words came, and he thought he may actually throw up a little bit; “You may now kiss the queen!”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“You may now kiss the queen, Rapp.” Hurley growled at him, and he couldn't believe his mentor was teaming up against him with his own daughter.

“I can’t believe you’re encouraging this in my dau-”

He was cut off with the only action he hadn't been expecting at this moment, his eyes closing as he realized what was happening. Your mouth was pressed to his, a sweet and innocent kiss, pulled in by a handful of his shirt, and he sighed happily into your mouth. Your lips were playing with his delicately, pressing and pulling in soft motions, and he felt like he’d slammed into cloud nine. His hands slipped down to your hips, holding you close to him as he pressed back into you, returning the kiss with everything he had, and feeling like his heart was exploding within his chest.

It ended way too quickly for his liking, and he chased your lips for a second, pressing another quick peck to your mouth as you smiled at him, before he was opening his eyes, finding you looking just as bashful as he did, as Stan held his hand up for Emma to smash her palm again in a high-five.

Your arms looped around his neck, pulling him in closer, and your lips brushed against the shell of his ear, making a tremor travel along his spine. “I want to go somewhere hot for our honeymoon.”

He was on an all-time high, and he pulled back, catching your lips in a final sweet kiss. “How about for the wedding reception, we have dinner tonight?”

You hummed thoughtfully before a loving expression was finding itself on your face. “Am I dressing up or dressing down?”

He smoothed his hands around to your lower back, pulling you in a little closer. “How about you come over in the comfiest PJs you own, and when you get cold, I can still be a gentleman and give you my jumper?”

“Sounds perfect to me.”

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impossible-rat-babies · 4 years ago

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wip wednesday!

i got tagged by @lilas, @queerbrujas, and @roses-and-roo ty! <3 i’m gonna tag: @wayhavn, @trvelyans, @zarneki, @coldshrugs, @starrypawz, @possumsunshine, @writer-ish, @captaintiny, @bitchesofostwick, @mournholdmushroom, @forestcreatures, @antigonick, @ardellian and anyone else!

keeping matches in your pocket even though it’s been seven years is a love language:

“Here...” Ortega pulls a small matchbox out, sliding open the tiny package and these are much nicer than his ten cent vintage little books he gets from the gas station because the cashier thinks he’s cute. These matches are made of wood and they strike easy on the side of the box.

“You still carry them around?”

It’s meant to be more of questioning incredulity, but it comes out much softer—forlorn and sticky at the front of his mouth.

Ortega sheepishly looks down at the matchbox, flipping it between his index and forefingers.

“Old habits die hard.”

Pollux lost count of the number of times Ortega pulled a little matchbox out of his pants or one of those little pockets in a fancy shirt when he needed a smoke. He stole the matches out of his pockets too; there was a running mental tally at one point, Ortega protesting whenever he caught him and the two of them scrambling until Pollux tucked it away like magic or Ortega shocked him enough times.

Pollux ended up with a little stacked collection of them all lined up against the baseboard next to his mattress. Next to all the cigarette boxes he used over and over again until they fell apart.

Even now, seven years later Ortega still carries them around and that tugs sharp in the back of his throat and deep in his belly—a sort of nausea that burns his eyes. He blinks several times and fuck there’s the logo of the cigarette shop Ortega dragged him to once in a blue moon.

(Fuck, it was the best place to buy cigarettes--they still had the little machines with the tokens.)

“Yeah...” Pollux mumbles, throat dry and he tears his eyes away.

#owen writes #fallen hero #pollux + ortega #i am gently cradling them #okay to rebloog #i haven't written much lately i should lmao

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jay4firefic · 4 years ago

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Hi! I’ve been reading through your Buckeride fics and I know this isn’t on your prompt list but I can’t get the idea of long-distance Kelly and 118!Buck where Buck sends him postcards like he used to do with Maddie. Like imagine a post card with a pic of Buck and the first baby he delivers, or Buck mastering a complex Bobby recipe or screenshots of a daring rescue. And Kelly peppering his locker with all of these.

So this is definitely not what you requested, but it's where my weird little brain took me. 1200 words, Buck x Kelly. Buck copes with losing Kelly by hiking across the country. Kelly copes with losing Buck by reading his postcards and sending replies in the form of books. Fair warning, I haven't read all of the books mentioned in this but I'll get around to them eventually.

The first time Buck drops a postcard in the mail to Chicago is a generic shot of the desert, picked up for 60 cents in a tourist trap not far from the head of the trail. Buck prints the address of Firehouse 51 carefully onto the back of the card and spends the rest of the night agonizing over what to write on the rest. In the end he scrawls a messy 2,653 miles to go, wish me luck, and drops it into the mailbox outside of his motel without a return address - he doesn’t have one.

The second is a black-and-white reproduction of Ansel Adams’ Monolith, the Face of Half Dome tucked inside the front cover of the artist’s biography and shipped together in a package from the same post office where Kidd mailed his latest resupply. Yosemite was too fucking crowded. Ansel Adams Wilderness was beautiful though. Did you know he did a whole series on Manzanar, the Japanese internment camp? He was an interesting dude. Hang onto this book for me if you can, please.

His next care package contains a book - Only What We Could Carry: The Japanese American Internment Experience - and even though he hasn’t factored an extra book into his pack weight, he tucks it into his bag along with everything else. When he cracks it open in the fading light of a high altitude sunset he nearly chokes on a mouthful of trail mix. There, on the inside cover, is a note in Kelly’s neat-but-cramped handwriting, just like in every other book he’s ever gifted to Buck. Why do you always pick the most fucking depressing topics to take an interest in? Tell Kidd where I should ship the other 3 books about internment camps when you get off the trail, I’m never going to reread them.

Buck closes his eyes and tips his head up to the sky, staring at the wash of red and orange the sunset paints behind his eyelids until the sting that threatens tears fades away. By then it’s nearly dark - too dark to read, but not too dark to thumb through the pages to find the ones that are dog eared, the passages with stars next to them, the notes in the margins careful never to overlap with the text or images. He doesn’t open it again for almost a week, spends another few days reading it slowly, savoring the notes in the margins and writing his own in return. It’s the continuation of a silent conversation they’ve been having since the first time Kelly picked up one of Buck’s dog-eared, highlighted, scribbled-in books off of the nightstand and returned it to him with three questions and an opinion Buck absolutely had to argue with scrawled inside the back cover.

Except this time...this time Buck can’t read his commentary aloud to Kelly at the end of the day, or ask him to expand on one of the thoughts jotted down at the bottom corner of a page. This time he can’t talk to Kelly at all.

Instead he takes a selfie with the PCT mid point sign and then backtracks to hitchhike into town. He celebrates with a motel room, a shower, and a night in an honest to god bed. Pancakes at the local diner taste like heaven in the morning, he calls Kidd from a curbside bench with a beautiful view of the mountains, and he’s in too good a mood to question it when his feet lead him down the street and into a shop advertising printing.

He has two copies of his selfie printed. One goes into an envelope addressed to 51, alongside a postcard of Mt. Lassen thanking Cindy for the cookies and Mouch for the hockey themed wool socks in his latest resupply. The second he addresses to his old Kelly’s apartment. Thanks for the book. I think I’m going to visit Manzanar after I finish the trail - it’s only a few hours from LA. Maybe I’ll climb Whitney while I’m out there. Hey, did you know Lassen and Shasta are part of the Pacific Ring of Fire? The volcanic landscapes out here are awesome.

Buck almost doesn’t put the second envelope in the mail. He almost puts the book in a box and sends it to Stella instead. But in the end he mails the card, tucks the book deep into his bag where it will sit undisturbed but impossibly heavy with emotion for most of the next two months, and hitchhikes back to the trailhead.

By the time he makes his first stop in Oregon there’s another package: food, socks, a newspaper clipping of Truck 81 saving a little girl and her dog from an overturned car, and a book. Surviving the Stone Wind, clearly purchased used, the cover fraying at the corners and the spine cracked. Inside, beneath a faded note indicating it was once a gift for someone else, Kelly has written Don’t get killed by a volcano. That would be a stupid ass way for a firefighter to go out.

Buck sends a picture of himself from central Oregon tucked inside the cover of the book when he returns it, his handwriting a barely legible scribble beneath Kelly’s sharp letters. At least if I die in an eruption it’ll be quick. I’ve been thinking - there’s a lot of time to think out here - about how we would survive if the Yellowstone Supervolcano ever erupts. The answer is that we probably won’t, but if we did, living through the endless winter afterwards sounds pretty nasty. You know how I hate to be cold.

I bought more hand warmers for the emergency kit, Kelly replies, weeks later, from between the pages of a book about Yellowstone. But I think you’re right. I’d rather go in the explosion.

Buck has another hiker take a picture of him on the Bridge of the Gods, smack in the center of the Columbia river, and scrawls on the back of two copies before sending them off in the mail. The Columbia used to have the largest Salmon run on Earth. I never realized how much we’ve fucked up the environment before spending all this time out in the middle of nowhere. Not that the trail is even the middle of nowhere - thousands of people walk every part of it every year. I wonder what it all looked like before we colonized the West.

The Organic Machine: The Remaking of the Columbia River gets to Buck when he’s a couple of hundred miles into Washington. He flips the cover open eagerly, touches his fingers to the only form of communication he’s had with the love of his life in months. Seems like people have been changing the environment out there since long before white colonizers showed up. They just made it a lot worse. This isn’t going to be one of your “if I had a time machine” obsessions again, is it?

If I had a time machine I’d only go back 10 months, Buck writes inside of the cover. He shoves the book deep inside of his pack, beside the first, and mails back a generic postcard of the Cascades instead.

#911 fanfiction #chicago fire fanfiction #evan 'buck' buckley #kelly severide #buck x kelly severide #bisexual evan buckley #my fic #prompt fills #asks and answers

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nataliedanovelist · 5 years ago

Text

GF - Amalia

For @artsymeeshee. Thank you for everything you do for us, for providing plenty of fluff, over-protective Ford content, and angst with a happy fluffy ending. Love you!

~~~~~~~~~~

The snow reflected the tiny amount of sunlight the capital of Iceland received. Spring was coming, though still a ways off, but the large island still welcomed the sun that was starting to rise earlier every day and stay longer as February was coming to a close.

She opened her eyes as the sunlight reflected on the Sea and sparkled like magical dust. She stood proudly on her beam, her favorite Nest, and stretched her back and paws, letting her claws escape her tiny little beans, and then hide again, a secret weapon for any enemies, though she had few. Really, apart from some rude Cubs shooting tiny metal balls at her, the world was fairly kind to her. Big Animals in thick coats gave her Pets and occasionally Food, coming in big Machines and soon left. Some of the Machines made dark clouds, some looked like they were controlled by fluffy white clouds. She liked them all, and was Happy to make sure no Bad Machines or Bad Animals in thick coats came on her Land.

Sometimes, when things were quiet by the sea, she would go Exploring. Cubs would play with her, maybe a Bad Animal or two would try to hit her with a collection of straw at the end of a stick, but she was fast and agile and was never hurt too much. Nothing she couldn’t handle. Today she thought she might go Explore her Land, but something caught her attention. An Animal was standing on a Machine.

The fur on the top of it’s head was fluffy. She wanted to play with it. It had glass in front of it’s eyes, for whatever reason, and had a coat like her’s: thick and blue, but a darker shade, not light like snow, like her’s. She blinked at the Animal and watched it. It took in a deep breath, smiling, and a Hole opened on the side of the Machine and a Path appeared, sliding down onto her Land. “Come on, Stanley, we have a lot to do today!”

“What’s your rush, Sixer?” Another voice could be heard as the Animal left it’s Machine and a second Animal appeared. This one had something red on it’s head, though it didn’t appear injured, and it also had glass in front of it’s eyes. She didn’t want to be seen right now, so she hopped down from her favorite sleeping spot and hid behind some boxes. “We’ve got all day, and if you really wanna sight-see we can stay here tomorrow, too.”

“Yes, I suppose so, but then we’ll have to wait another day for Mabel’s package for us in Ullapool, Scotland.”

“Good point. But we can always visit this place again on our way back to Oregon.”

“Fair enough. Well, how about a quick walk and then we’ll restock on supplies.”

“S’long as we can stop at that bar tonight.”

“Deal.”

The two Animals smelled similar, but not identical. They were a Pack. A Herd. A Family. She watched them venture further into her Land, but she let them. They were Good. She could tell. She emerged from her hiding spot a little after they passed her and watched them go. She wanted to go with them, but she didn’t want to be caught. She would have to be sneaky.

She carefully walked behind the Animals with glass in front of their eyes and watched them. The Animals were a wonderful Pack. They talked and laughed and played, pushing every so often, playing like she used to with her brothers and sisters, and she smiled at knowing they were having fun and learning how to be good fighters. When the Animals were joining other Animals on busy parts of her Land, she climbed up the stone Dens and walked on the tall place to watch them and be close to them. She was good at being sneaky; they did not know she was there.

Sometimes the Animals would go inside the Dens. When this happened she would sit and wait for them to come out. Sometimes they came out with nothing new, other times they would come out with Gain in their holds. When they walked, she walked with them, either behind them or above them. Too soon the Sun was setting again, and she found the Animals going back to their Machine. She was Sad, but walked behind them at a safe distance and watched them enter their Machine.

Behind the boxes, she laid on her belly, resting her face in her paws, Sad that the Animals were going away. She liked them. But then she heard something that made her lift her head and her ears stop being droopy. She looked up at the Machine and found the Animals coming back! They had no Gains with them; they must have left them in their Machine, and decided to go out Exploring again! She watched from behind the boxes as the Animals walked into a Den not too far from the Sea, and she made a Plan.

She had been Sad when she thought the Animals were going away forever, like all the other Animals did. Very Sad. She never wanted to be that Sad again. She carefully sniffed the Path and decided that it was Safe, so she trotted on it, through the Hole, and was on a Machine.

She was a little bit Scared. She had never been on a Machine before, but she could smell her favorite Animals everywhere and could feel the Sea beneath her. She loved the Animals and the Sea, and she knew she was Safe. She decided it was time to go Exploring! This Land was big, but not too big, so it wasn’t Scary. She walked around and could smell more of her favorite Animals’ scent from inside the Machine, inside the Den. There was a Hole with a small opening, leaking out the smell and light, so she pushed the Hole open a little more and entered the Den.

The den was Warm and Safe and smelled of her favorite Animals whom she loved. There were tiny Suns here and there inside the Den. There was something big and Cozy in the Den, away from the Hole. She hopped onto it and pawed at it and rolled around it. It smelled like the Animals the most and she almost fell asleep, but she wanted to Explore some more. And she was hungry. Maybe the animals had Food in this Den.

She stood and sniffed. Something smelled Good. Smelled of Food. She followed the smell to something tall that held weird rectangles with black scribbles on them. There was a small container Animals used to hold Food. This was wet and black, but she lapped at it anyhow, but it was not Good. Not Bad, but not Good. Oh, well. She would find Food later. She wanted to Explore some more.

She hopped down from the tall place and smelled as she Explored. The Land went down at the farthest part from the Hole. It looked a little Scary, but she could still smell her favorite Animals, so she hopped, hopped, hopped down carefully. She was surprised to find two fluffy Nests inside this deep part of the Den. This must be where the Animals slept. She could tell; it smelled the most like them. She smiled and hopped up onto one and rolled around and played with the fluffy stuff. It was Fun and Cozy and Warm and Safe and Good.

She stopped to stretch and yawn. She was Tired. She decided to sleep here, but where? She needed her own Nest. At the end of one Nest, there was a box. She loved boxes, and this one had a tee tiny Hole that could be made into a bigger Hole. She hopped down and stretched her front paws and head into the Hole, pushing through it. The whole box was filled with Warm fluff that smelled of her favorite Animals. She was excited. Her own Nest was Warm and smelled like her favorite Animals! She slipped in, circled, and tucked herself in to go to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~

After some tasty food and warm beer, the brothers returned to their home on the water, tired and ready for bed. It was very cold and bitter out in the night hair, but that only made the warm boat more welcoming and more appreciated. However, Ford was a little annoyed at finding the door cracked open, letting in cold air. “Stanley, I thought I told you to close the door all the way.”

“Sorry, Ma, I was hungry.” Stan said sarcastically and shrugged as they went inside.

Ford sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose as he closed and locked the door tightly. “Good thing I’ve almost perfected our security system so we won’t have to worry about being robbed.”

Stan rolled his eyes and yawned into his hand. “Welp, I’m beat. You coming to bed or do I gotta drag you there myself?” He asked, shrugging his trenchcoat off and throwing it on the couch on his way to the stairs downward for the bedroom.

“No, no, I’m coming.” Ford said tiredly and followed his brother down into their bedroom. “I’ll be taking a shower so if you want one you’ll have to wait.”

“Nah, I’ll take one in the morning.” Stan answered, peeling off his beanie and yawing again, ready to collapse into his warm bed and not move again until sunrise.

Ford moved to the far end of the bedroom, where the bathroom was located, and turned on the shower so the water could warm up. Meanwhile Stan groaned, seeing how Ford had done laundry that morning and now his twin had to pull the warm extra blankets and quilts out from the chest at the foot of his bed.

Stan opened it groggily, not expecting to stare down at the context for a full minute until he was capable of speech, but here he was.

“Uh… Sixer?”

“Yes, Stanley.”

“We have an expected guest on board.”

Ford stopped unzipping his blue hoodie and joined his brother at the chest, who’s eyebrow was raised in unapproval. The aged scientist, however, was stuck with a blank facial expression while he tried to digest the fact that there was an animal curled up on top of the stack of blankets and quilts.

It looked like a cat, though it was unfair to call her a cat. Passersby may assume so without a second glance, but this creature appeared too abnormal to be a kitten. She had pointy ears coated in thick fur to keep out cold hair, light-blue fur that could blend into snow, a tiny button black nose between huge, round, baby-blue eyes, a small floof of fur on the top of her head, and a skinny tail with fluff for fur at the end. It appeared so small and helpless in the mess of blankets, looking up at the brothers with shiny eyes filled with wonder. After a moment of silence, Ford grinned and placed his hands on his knees to be closer to the anomaly without frightening it, and he spoke to her with a voice as quiet as a mouse and soft as silk.

“Hello. Where did you come from, my dear?”

“Dunno, don’t care.” Stan moved towards her and said, “I’ll put her back outside.”

Ford’s senses heightened and he gently grabbed his brother’s wrist to stop him. “Hold it, Stanley, there’s no reason to kick her out so quickly. She’s not doing any harm.” Ford returned his smile to the anomaly and cooed softly as he reached for her and let her sniff his six-fingered hand. “Come here, little one, it’s alright.”

The anomaly happily sniffed Ford’s hand and rubbed the side of her head onto his palm, begging for pets, which he happily gave. The eldest twin carefully scooped her up into his harms and scratched her, finding her favorite spot, until she was practically putty in his hold as he scratched her under her chin.

Stan stared in disbelief and snorted. “Are you kidding me? You spent most of your life around dangerous monsters and you’re gonna let one on our boat?”

“She’s not a monster.” He scolded lightly and smiled again as she purred against his chest. He held her out to him to see better and added cheerfully, “Look how cute she is, Stan!”

“Yeah, until it decides to eat our face!” Stan argued, a hand up in defense.

“She won’t hurt us.” Ford said firmly and held her close to his chest again, letting her lay on her back so her four little limbs were up and trying to catch his wiggling fingers. “I bet she was cold and hungry and was trying to find shelter. Isn’t that wight, wittle one?” He cooed in a low voice. “Who’s a hun-gy wittle anomaly? Are you, are you?”

“Don’t feed it!” Stan yelled after his brother as he went upstairs. “Then it’ll want to stay!”

“Great idea, we’ll feed her so she’ll want to stay!”

“That is NOT what I said!”

Ford rolled his eyes and laughed down at the anomaly when she caught his fingers and licked him with a rough tongue. She wasn’t even trying to hurt him. She was playing and happy to give his hand a little bath. “Don’t worry, my dear. Stanley is right about one thing: I’ve met many aliens and monsters and anomalies in my day, but I can tell when one has nefarious purposes and when one does not, and you don’t. You’re a good little girl; I can tell.”

One handed so he could still cradle her, Ford opened the freshly filled cabinets to hunt for something the strange animal would eat. “Hm, let’s take a look at your teeth.” He gently pulled down her mouth and as surprised how little she fidgeted and fought him. “Interesting. Only half of your teeth are carnivorous. You must be able to adapt to plants or berries if needed. Very well, let’s see… oh, here. You’re lucky Stan talked me into picking up tuna.”

At the time it seemed ridiculous to buy canned tuna when they could fish for dinner whenever they wanted, but Stan said they should still get it because canned goods never expired and fishing wasn’t always successful, so Ford opened the can and placed it on the table and sat the anomaly down while he tidied up a bit, stacking his notes and books and putting his cold coffee in the sink. From the sounds of it, Stan had hopped in the shower since Ford was apparently too busy playing host to bathe, which was fine by him. He sat in a chair, watching how the anomaly ate.

She was definitely not skin-and-bones, but she ate quickly, plunging her face into the can and eating happily. Ford chuckled and pet down her back. She was fairly clean, if not a little weather-beaten. Clearly she could take care of herself, but why should she when he could? Okay, sure, Stanley was a little apprehensive about taking in a strange anomaly as a pet, and perhaps Ford shouldn’t be so quick to take her in as a pet. She might not be happy cooped up in a boat with two old men. In fact, if she lived on this dock, she might do this often, visiting sailors for food and shelter and then leaving in the morning.

“Well, if you want to leave, I won’t stop you,” Ford said to her as he watched her eat. “But if you want to stay, you’re more than welcome to.”

The fluffy anomaly sat up and looked at him with kind eyes. Ford smiled at her, and could have sworn she returned with a tiny smile. He slowly reached for his journal, a green book with a golden six-fingered hand and a crescent on the cover, and opened it carefully so as to not scare her. The anomaly sat perfectly still, watching him, as he turned to a clean page and pulled out a pen to begin sketching her. He titled his head to the side to get a better angle of her, and he stared to find her doing the same, mirroring him.

Ford smiled and titled his head the other way, and sure enough the little one followed his lead. Chuckling, he decided to push his luck and he straightened his head and stuck his tongue out at her just a little bit. The anomaly stared at him, and sure enough, a tiny pink tongue poked out at him. Ford snorted, bit his lip, and continued sketching. He noticed her tail was wagging, like a dog’s might when happy, and he added that to his notes. He had no idea what to call this species, so he left the title blank for now, deciding he would come up with a species title once he had more information.

They must have been at that table for an hour or so, because soon Stan’s rough voice called from the bedroom sharply, “Sixer, if you’re not down here in two minutes…”

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” Ford called back and grinned as the little anomaly yawned, making the tiny tongue stretch out and curl inwards slightly. The old man carefully pick her up and carried her with him into his shared bedroom. Stan was in his undershirt and boxers, shaking his hair dry with a towel as he sat on his bed, and he growled when he saw the animal still in his twin’s arms.

“Please tell me you’re not taking it to bed.” He snarled.

“No, of course not.”

“Good.”

“She deserved her own space.” Ford said as he pulled a pink blanket out from the chest and placed it neatly, still folded, on the floor between the beds. “She can have her own bed.”

“What!?” Stan yelled as Ford got on his knees and let the anomaly climb down onto the blanket to give it a try. “I’m not letting that thing sleep in here! What if it turns into some blood-sucking monster in it’s sleep and kills us both?!”

“That won’t happen, don’t be so paranoid.”

“Oh ho! That’s a new one!” Stan laughed harshly, but quickly turned sour again. “Can’t believe you're not a bit more guarded with that thing? What makes you think you can trust it?!”

Ford shrugged. “A lot of people lately have proven to me that I can trust others. Besides, there’s good in her. I can tell.”

Stan blinked at his brother. It was like this was a completely different man than who had come out of the portal. Well, okay, Ford knew that before they had even started sailing that Ford wasn’t the same person he was when he punched Stan in the face, but still. Stanford Pines really had changed a lot.

“It’s just for one night, Stanley.” Ford eased as he took off his hoodie and slipped off his boots, preparing for bed. “She’ll leave in the morning and find some new friends to provide food and shelter from the next cold night, I’m sure of it.”

Stan rolled his eyes and laid down with his back to the fluffy pair. “Fine, whatever.”

Ford had to admit that he was a little chest-fallen that his brother was a little cold towards their temporary house-guest, but he can recall their niece telling Ford that Stanley appeared to have a burning hatred for a certain pig, but everyone knew he loved Waddles very much. Perhaps he was trying to prove he was still a tough guy, or perhaps Stanley didn’t want to get attached to the anomaly so he wouldn’t be disheartened when she was gone. Ford knew he could handle her leaving tomorrow if she wanted to, he would be happy to have met her and that she was happy, so with one final scratch between her ears, ruffling her little floof, Ford took off his glasses and turned off the lantern, letting darkness overtake the bedroom.

“Goodnight, Stanley.”

“G’night, Sixer.” The younger twin managed to grunt.

Ford smiled, relieved that at least his brother wasn’t angry at him, and he slept soundly as the warm boat kept the cold late-winter air away.

~~~~~~~~~~

Ford was the first one to wake up. Or at least the first one to rise out of their bed. He slipped on his glasses and was happy to find the little anomaly where he had left her last night: curled up like a kitten on her folded blanket. He took the time to scratch her behind her ears before heading towards the shower.

The aged explorer could understand why Mabel was so attached to her pet pig, Waddles. There was immense satisfaction in caring for something or someone and having them care for you in return. While that is the fundamental basics of human relationships, homo sapiens tend to over complicate such relationships with intense emotions and lack of logic. Other species, like most animals on Earth, allowed this principle to be basic and easy, simple. Give love, get love.

Throughout the years, Ford had indeed come across hundreds of thousands of different creatures. True, a vast majority wanted to eat his face, but to be fair he had been in their climate and they were hungry. That was the beautiful circle of life. Some creatures were perfectly friendly and could even offer some companionship, but none of the creatures Ford had met would stay for long and he knew better than to get too attached; he was too busy trying to take care of himself to add a pet to his list of responsibilities. However, if an animal who enjoyed his company wanted to walk with him in the forest or up a mountain, he wouldn’t stop it or go out of his way to scare it off, knowing full well something else would capture it’s attention or Ford would have to hop through a hole in space-time and the animal would run off, less inclined to follow the kind stranger to an alien world.

Still, a small part of Ford had missed the idea of having a pet. He can remember enjoying Shanklin’s company as a child and being very sad when he had died, though not nearly as heartbroken as Stanley had been. When he had discovered the Shapeshifter as a hatchling, there was a reason he had quickly associated it as a pet, despite Fiddleford’s arguments against it. Perhaps if the encounter hadn’t ended so ugly or if he hadn't been so distracted with Bill and the portal, Ford might have taken in a pet to give him company when it was time for Fiddleford to return home. Maybe a low-maintenance cat or something unique and different. Maybe he would take in a plaidypus. He had enjoyed that anomaly’s company.

As the warm water made it easy for the old sailor to think, he seriously considered adopting the new anomaly as his pet. He knew that Stanley would warm up to her eventually, he just needed time to trust that she wouldn’t go savage on them. Really, there was no real issue or obstacle in his way. They were financially stable, so they could afford to take care of her, there were no other pets that might get jealous of her, they would always be around her so she would never be neglected or abandoned on the boat. Really, the only obstacle Ford could see was that the anomaly might not want to stay.

If Ford had learned anything about wildlife is that animals pick the humans just as much as humans pick the animals. There must be a mutual agreement to love and care for each other in their own unique way, but if one if not willing or incapable of returning the affection, then the arrangement wouldn’t work. There was a large possibility that the anomaly was perfectly happy being a peaceful stray and didn’t want to be tied down to one boat and one pair of sailors, which was perfectly fine. Like Ford had said last night, if she wanted to leave, that was okay. But if she wanted to stay Ford would be nothing short of delighted.

As Ford emerged from the bathroom with a towel around his waist and a towel in his hand, shaking his fluffy charcoal gray hair dry, he found the sweet anomaly on his bed, playing with his blankets, rolling around and pawing at the soft fabric. He smiled and hung up the towel in his hand as he approached the anomaly, who stopped playing to receive pets and lick his six fingers.

“Good morning, my dear. Sleep well?” He whispered, knowing full well she couldn’t respond, but she looked so happy and well rested, even her fur appeared to host some bed-head. Ford glanced over at his twin, who was still fast asleep, limbs sprawled everywhere and snoring peacefully with his mouth wide open. He grinned, having an idea, and he gently picked the anomaly up from his bed and placed her on Stan’s bed, just by his legs.

As Ford got dressed for the day, he watched as the anomaly pawed at the blankets and then walked up to Stan’s face, then sat and watched him for a moment. Ford had to bite his lip to keep from laughing when the anomaly lifted a soft beanie paw and gently smacked Stan’s nose, playing like she had found a ball. By the time Ford was fully dressed the anomaly had climbed up to Stan’s chest and sat close to his face, happy to only watch him sleep.

The sudden weight on his chest stirred him and Stan groggily opened his eyes and was shocked to find two large baby-blue eyes staring closely at him. “ARG!” He yelled and sat up quickly, making the anomaly jump down from the bed and hide under the bed.

Ford laughed good-naturedly while Stan growled in his throat and put on his glasses. “Ford!”

“Good morning, Stanley.”

“What is that thing still doing here, I thought she was only staying just for the night!”

“Oh, I’m sure she’ll leave once we leave.” Ford reasoned as the anomaly slowly crept out from under the bed and rubbed herself against Ford’s legs.

Stan grunted, not sure if he should believe his wishy-washy brother, but it was too early to fight this battle, so he yawned and popped his back and made his way upstairs to make coffee.

The anomaly followed Ford everywhere he went. When he went upstairs, so did she. When Ford sat at the table, she hopped onto it. He smiled and got up for a second, seeing how she turned her nose at his coffee, and he poured her a small plate of milk. She happily lapped it up while the twins sipped their coffee and went over their plans for the day, one purposely ignoring her and the other occasionally petting her or scratching her behind the ear.

About an hour later Stan and Ford were ready to leave for some sightseeing while at Iceland’s capital. The anomaly followed them out of the cabin of the boat and hopped on the wall of the Stan O’ War II and watched them walk away. Ford even waved her goodbye, not sure if this would be the last time he would ever see her or not. Again, it was totally fine if she decided to leave. But the fact remained that Ford would be immensely grateful if he found her still on their boat when they returned.

Stan privately decided that it was best to get his brother’s mind off that little menace, so hopefully when they left the dock and set sail tomorrow morning they could leave this whole ordeal behind them. The two brothers had a good time cracking jokes and laughing as they visited historical sights, museums, and other amazing things the capital had to offer about their culture and history. For lunch they sat at the park with warm sandwiches and listened to a street performer sing and beat a drum about a mountain troll wanting to get married.

Having seen everything they had wanted to see, Ford and Stan decided to head to the Stan O’ War early and leave the docks before dinner. Ford was a little disheartened to find the anomaly no longer on the wall of the Stan O’ War, which again, was fine. She was a wild animal and could do whatever she wanted. And no, Ford was not upset over the fact that she wanted to move on.

So why on Earth was he so jubilant, could feel his heart do a cartwheel of joy in his chest, why he grinned so happily, at the sight of her on one of the lounge chairs, bathing in the sunshine and only awoke because she sensed someone’s presence and she smiled up at him and went to rub against his legs again.

Ford picked her up and held her close to his chest, alone with her since Stan had gone inside to start on dinner and probably didn’t even know she was here. The old scientist sat in the lounge chair and petted his new pet softly, making her purr against his hold.

“You’ll need a proper name, my dear.” Ford thought out-loud. To help decide which best suited her, he listed some names out to see if they sounded right for her. “Luna? Ivy? Amber? Periwinkle? Maybe something more sophisticated, like Alessandra? Stella?” Ford tilted his head to the side as they looked at each other. She coped him curiously.

He chuckled and rubbed her head. “You are a strange anomaly. Hm… while Anomaly isn’t a suitable name, maybe something along those lines. Maybe… Molly? No, close, but you don’t quite look like a Molly, my dear. How about…” And then suddenly, he had it. Ford knew what to call her. It was perfect. It was unique, just like her. Ford smiled peacefully at her and settled with, “Amalia. I’ll call you Amalia from now on.”

“Alright, Sixer, we ready to set… oh, great.” Stan stopped when he saw who Ford was with and he glared at the strange anomaly.

“Say hello to Amalia, Stanley.” Ford said happily and held her up to him to see. She poked her little tongue out at him.

Stan glared at his brother. “Amalia? You named it?!”

“Yes. So? Is there a problem?” Ford asked with a raised eyebrow, bringing Amalia back to his lap, a little tired of Stan’s cold attitude.

“Stanford, you’re not supposed to name it.” He growled, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Once you name it, you start getting attached to it! Now get it off the boat, we’re leaving now.”

Ford looked down at Amalia, who was curled up in his arms, and then back up at his brother firmly. He hated to push him, but this was important to him and he genuinely felt like Stan was being unfair. “No.”

Stan blinked at his twin. “I’m sorry?”

“No,” Ford said calmly. “Stanley, please. I think she wants to stay, and I want her to stay. Yes, she is probably a wild animal and can take care of herself, but she shouldn’t have to. Why should she when she could have a loving family who takes care of her? I know you’re a little apprehensive that she’ll turn on us, but as my brother I’m asking that you trust me and let me keep her. Please.”

Stan stared, no longer visibly angry. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Ford. He did, more than anyone, and if someone who used to not trust anyone found this little ankle biter worthy of his hard-earned trust, then Stan had to give that little fur-ball some credit. Not to mention that Stan could remember a time when the tables were turned and someone had agreed to help keep a certain possum a secret. At the memory Stan couldn’t help but smile.

He sighed, rubbed the back of his neck, and admitted defeat. “Fine, she can stay. But she’s your pet, which means you feed her and clean up after her, you keep her out of my stuff, and if one day we wake up missing a finger or an eye, I’m blaming you.”

Ford grinned; he could see right through Stan’s tough-guy persona. “Thank you, Stanley. You won’t regret it.” He stood and hurried off the boat. “I’ll go buy some supplies for her before we leave! Thank you!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Stan muttered, shaking his head. He couldn’t believe how happy his brother had looked when given permission to keep that little gremlin. Stan hadn’t seen Sixer that happy since they first began their adventure.

~~~~~~~~~~

Ford couldn’t find a pet store within close range, but he did find a convenient store that might have the bare minimum he was looking for. Cans of meat, maybe a soft bed, toys, a brush, etc. Though there was no sign saying “No Pets Allowed,” Ford wouldn’t be surprised if he wasn’t allowed to bring Amalia inside with him, so he decided to play it safe and hide her in his hoodie.

At first she was tucked in by his chest, her tiny claws clinging to his sweater with no pain to his skin, but Amalia soon climbed up his neck and he had to put his hood up to hide her. She made her way up the right side of Ford’s neck, curling around the back of his head, and resting her front half by his left shoulder, giving Ford a small, furry scarf around the back of his neck, and curling up for another short nap.

And no, Ford was not crying next to the shelves of cat litter.

pt.2

#GF #gravity falls #fanfiction #gift #ford pines #stan pines #sea grunks #amalia #anomaly pet #CUTE!!!#fluff #mostly fluff #and a little fluff #more to come... probably #I HOPE YOU LIKE IT!!!#Thanks for reading!

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kazoo5480 · 4 years ago

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Emma woke up, the familiar view of the sun rising over the water and the city outside her window. She smiled; she would miss this view. Her body felt used and sore deep inside. She looked at Killian, asleep on his back, sound asleep.

She quietly tiptoed to the bathroom to brush her teeth and headed to the kitchen to pop in a K cup. She popped open her laptop and placed a delivery for boxes, bubble wrap, and tape.

She heard the water run and sat in the window seat looking down over the street, drinking her coffee. Killian walked out a moment later and looked around. “Hi. Did you sleep ok?” her soft voice rang out, and he noticed her sitting in the window.

He sat down next to her and took the coffee from her, taking a sip, and looked out at her view. The water, people below walking their dogs, runners jogging, men in suits, taxis honking. He smiled and looked at her.

Emma was looking at him curiously, her blonde curls shiny in the morning sun, tucked atop her head. She looked like an angel, he ran his hand over the curve of her cheek, and she smiled at him.

“What do we need to do today?” he asked, his voice still thick with sleep.

Emma smiled at him, his hair was a wreck sticking up at odd angles and she laughed and tried to smooth it. His eyes looked impossibly blue as he gazed at her, awaiting her answer.

“I ordered the packing supplies; it will be here a little later today. I thought we could explore a little” and he nodded yawning.

“Are you feeling, ok?” he asked her.

Her brows pulled together confused. “Uh-huh” and he slid his hand down her thigh to her ass.

“Here too?” he asked seriously, and she bit her lip and nodded.

“Was it ok that I did?” he asked, and she blushed and smiled at him.

“Have you ever…?” he trailed off, and she shook her head.

“Did you like it love?” he asked, and she blushed a deeper pink. “Swan? Don’t be shy my love” he asked her again.

“I did. But because it was you” she said squeaked out, and he smiled and kissed her forehead.

He got up and went to try and find a mug and coffee for himself. He started the machine, and Emma came into the kitchen leaning over the list on the counter, and he came up behind her caressing her gorgeous behind, as his coffee brewed.

“You know love, I would be happy to take you here whenever you want” he said kissing her neck and smirking into her skin, his hands lightly squeezing her ass.

She looked at him, “Have you done that before? With other women?” she asked.

His ears went red, “I, uh, a few times, but nothing like last night. I haven’t done that before with my hands” he said. Emma nodded, her cheeks pink.

He cupped her neck with his thumbs tracing over her jaw. “Emma, nothing I have done in my past even comes close to what we do love.”

She looked at him, and the blush crept down her neck to her chest. He wrapped his arms around her waist rubbing circles on her lower back, “Every time with you Emma, it feels like you’re sinking into my skin a little deeper every time. Sometimes I can’t even tell where I begin, and you end,” she looked up at him in awe.

“I never tried it before. I bet it would hurt” she said quietly. “It’s not like you have a small dick either Jones,” she said and buried her face in his chest embarrassed.

He smiled against her hair, “Emma, I would never hurt you, or do something to hurt you in our bed love. If you wanted it, I would make sure you weren’t hurt at all” he murmured into her hair.

“Do you want that?” she asked him quietly.

He smiled, “I will take whatever you want, if that was a one-time thing last night, then I do not care in the slightest. But if you want me to fuck that gorgeous arse of yours, then I would absolutely love filling it” he smirked at her wickedly, and she rolled her eyes.

“Oh my god!” she said completely mortified. “Just answer me Killian!”

He nodded, “I would absolutely love to fuck your lovely arse, Emma. I love every inch of you, I don’t find it disgusting or a turnoff. It is you and me in our bed, there is nothing shameful about us in our bed, and wanting something from me, or I from you is nothing to be shameful over” he said kissing her forehead before he stepped to grab his coffee.

Emma felt like her face was on fire. “Is that something you enjoy? To be done to you I mean” she asked.

“I have never done it, so I can’t say I would or wouldn’t enjoy it. Is that something you want to try?” he asked her without any shame at all.

She eyed him, “Maybe. I’ll think about it, I would worry that I would hurt you.”

He nodded, “I have heard that prostate stimulation provides quite the release for men,” he said seriously and smiled at her.

“I could ask August,” she said.

“NO!” he all but shouted. “Our bedroom, our business. I love you, and I understand August is a package deal with you but no Swan. I do not want you to ask August about prostates or anything regarding my arse” he said, and she burst into laughter.

“Ok, ok. I won’t ask August how to give you a mind-blowing orgasm even though he would know” she said still giggling.

“Fuck, you’re adorable,” he said and kissed her. “I am incredibly lucky to have you, I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I am a right lucky bastard,” he said kissing her again before he sipped his coffee.

Emma looked at the clock, it was only nine. She walked down the hall and opened her closet and pulled down some boxes and bags and began looking through her drawers. August had cleaned out the majority of her dresser already, but the closet was still full.

She found her stickies and started walking through the rest of the apartment, Killian sitting in the window drinking his coffee still people watching. She placed stickies on pictures, her books. She stopped at her punching bag.

Killian walked over to her where she was looking. “Bring it” he said, and she looked at him curiously.

“Where will we put it? The loft isn’t some massive space” she said.

He circled her waist and placed his chin on her shoulder. “So, I will build you an area for all this stuff, in the back room of the shop, hell I will give you the office if you want it,” he said and kissed her neck.

“What about all this kitchen stuff?” she asked. “Well, bring the Keurig,” he said, and she laughed, “but I think we can donate the rest unless you want it, then we will donate mine,” he said. “Oh, bring your pasta pot,” he said.

“It’s cute that you think I own a pasta pot” and she laughed at him, and he chuckled.

“So, what do we need to bring?” he asked. She looked around. The art from my room and in here, my clothes, toiletries, I will leave cleaning supplies behind. We need to donate the kitchen stuff. Do you want the towels and linens, or should we just get new ones?” she trailed off.

Killian was grinning at her, “what?” she asked.

He shook his head, “nothing love. We can get new linens if you like, bathroom towels, whatever your heart desires. We can pick them out while we buy a new pasta pot” and she laughed.

She pulled up donation sites on her phone, “hey, there is a donation center a few blocks over, we can drop that stuff off last on our way back home” she said absentmindedly strolling around the room.

Killian’s heart somersaulted in his chest, she called Storybrooke home, she just did it without thinking about it. Her phone rang, she smiled and hit the speaker.

“Hey,” she said.

“Morning sunshine” August’s voice rang out. “Did you forgive Jones?” he asked.

She took him off speakerphone, “We talked, everything is fine. I can’t believe you told him to feed me” she said.

Whatever he said in response had Emma leaving the room. Killian was nervous, if he pissed off August, then there were going to be problems. He and Emma were a packaged deal, and Killian genuinely liked the man. He would never want to be at odds with him.

Emma came back in and handed him her phone “he wants to speak to you” she said and handed the phone to him.

“Morning August,” he said.

“Jones. I need a favor from you while you are in town. I need you to pick something up for me, and I will get it from you when I come see you guys.”

“What is it?” Killian asked, and Emma looked at him concerned.

“A gift for Emma, so you will need to ditch her to get it.”

“Ok, sure.” He said, and he shook his head at Emma.

“I will text you the details and let them know you’re coming. Text me when you are on your way there before you guys head out of the city” he said.

Killian nodded, “Sure mate. Hey before we donate all Emma’s kitchen, do you want anything?” he asked redirecting Emma’s attention.

“The Keurig” and Killian laughed.

“It’s already claimed, sorry” and August sighed “put me on speaker.”

“What do you want August?” Emma asked while she was pulling shoeboxes down.

“You should probably pull the menagerie of dildos out of your nightstand and give them some use Em” and cackled hanging up abruptly.

Emma’s face reddened, “what an asshole” she laughed.

Killian immediately went to her nightstand opening the drawer and his jaw dropped. “It’s like an arsenal of sex toys Swan,” he said pulling out one peculiarly shaped one.

Emma snatched it out of his hands, “I hate him” she said.

“Now, now Swan. Let’s not be so rash. There are a lot of items in this treasure chest that I do believe we can make use of love” he said still looking through it.

Emma laid face down on her bed, “I wish the floor would swallow me whole” she said muffled by the blankets.

Killian stopped, “Swan, have you ever used these with anyone?” and she looked up and shook her head.

“No, why?” she asked.

He nodded and leaned over her. “Good, we can keep them all then” and hooked his fingers under her shorts and pulled them down her legs. He grabbed the peculiar-shaped one and a tube of lubricant.

“I think we should test this one, make sure the batteries are still operational” he said smirking at her.

Emma’s pupils dilated, and she bit her lip. “You want to watch me?” she asked, and he nodded eagerly, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

She lifted up pulling her tank top off and was completely bared to his gaze, her nipples hardening in the morning light that filtered through the windows.

Emma reached over grabbing the lube out of his hand, and took some of it, lubricating the longer end of it, and handed him something, he looked down at it curiously.

“It’s the remote,” she said, and he grinned wickedly at her.

“Now I like that very much,” he said totally turned on that he would control her pleasure.

“Want to help me warm up?” She asked coyly, her eyes practically glowing.

“With pleasure,” he said kissing her, guiding her to lay flat on her back. He placed open mouth kissing, dragging them down her neck sucking lightly.

Glancing up at her, her green eyes darkened in lust. He continued his descent and his tongue darted out to tease that perfect bundle of nerves as he kept his eyes on hers.

He inhaled the scent of her and licked a stripe up her cunt with the flat of his tongue, and she moaned. He grabbed the toy, using it to tease her entrance which earned him a louder moan from Emma’s parted lips. Emma took the toy from his hand and inserted it, he watched in fascination as it disappeared inside her.

“I want to watch you get off on watching me” she panted, and he raised his eyes back to hers. He grabbed the remote and leaned over her, sucking each nipple into his mouth wetly, before licking across her lips.

“Ready love?” and she nodded. He switched it on and heard the faint vibrating noise, and Emma’s hips bucked. Killian pulled his pants down and fisted his cock tightly. He swiped the precum leaking out of his tip and offered his finger to Emma sucked it into her mouth and released his digit with a smirk.

He swallowed thickly, “bloody hell” he croaked out.

Emma reached her hands up, kneading her breasts and pulling her nipples. He increased the speed on the toy by one, and she cried out, her thighs trembling. Killian was so turned on, he pumped and gripped himself hard, making sure to keep his eyes on Emma and not miss a single thing.

Her eyes were on his cock, watching as he rubbed himself. “Do you like watching me love?” he asked her in a strained voice, and she nodded.

“You’re the most glorious thing I have ever bloody seen my love,” he said, feeling his sac pull tightly. Killian was working himself up too quickly and slowed his pace despite wanting to blow his load all over her perfect tits.

He hit the remote two notches and Emma arched her back and neck, her blonde curls escaping their confine, and fanning out tangled over her dark pillow. She was biting down on her bottom lip watching him touch himself.

He was regretting this plan, he wanted to feel Emma come all over his cock, he wanted to fill her up with his cum and be the reason she fell apart.

He stopped rubbing himself, he just lightly caressed the head of his cock, stroking his desire but not allowing himself a release. He turned the toy up another notch and Emma screamed, her hand reaching for him.

He knelt closer to her, licking into her mouth, plucking at her nipples, and her hands slid into his hair as her hips thrashed, her pleasure was coming too fast.

“Emma, I can’t” he growled and turned the toy off. She looked startled and he swiftly removed the toy and pulled her up on her knees and gently pushed her forward onto her hands, her ass in the air.

He rubbed her cheeks and slapped them lightly and she moaned. He grabbed the lube and smeared some on his fingers. He lined his cock up and surged forward, eliciting a cry from Emma.

“Love, can I touch you here?” he asked rubbing over her ass, she stilled for a moment and nodded.

He rubbed the lube over his fingers warming it and kept pumping into her. Emma felt his thumb caress her ass, and she willed herself to calm down. His thick cock dragging in and out of her, she was already so worked up, and she felt him push his thumb into her ass slowly. It was like an assault on all of her senses.

“Oh god” she cried, her nails gripping the sheets, and Killian’s fingers dug into her hip as he plunged into her at a punishing pace.

“Killian, I need you to slow down! Babe, I am going to come!”

“Grip me, Emma, clench that perfect cunt around my cock and take it all” he said.

She felt it coming, an onslaught of pleasure building faster and faster inside of her. His thumb in her ass made her feel deliciously full.

“God I can feel my cock inside your perfect cunt Em,” he pushed and pulled his thumb quicker but still gentle, and he changed the position of it. He could feel his cock through her thin wall, and his thumb made her cunt only feel tighter around him.

“Emma love” he growled out, and he rammed into her stilling his hips as he pumped his thump gently in and out of her ass, she screamed as her orgasm washed through her, her ass clenching his thumb, and her cunt gripping his dick so tightly that his orgasm spilled into her in long jets.

“Bloody hell,” he said, and Emma was breathing hard, her head on the bed, her arms had given out. He slid his thumb out slowly, and she moaned at the loss of it. He smirked at that.

He went to the bathroom and washed his hands, grabbing a cloth and wetting it to clean her up. He was gentle as he wiped her, her body jerked a little as he ran it over her clit and wiped between her thighs.

“Are you alright love?” he asked lying next to her, and she nodded. He rubbed her back lightly, as she came down from her high.

“Wow,” she said eyeing him, and he nodded.

“Did that hurt, love?” he asked her, and she shook her head, and he grinned.

“I felt like you were everywhere, I can’t describe it” she said biting her lip.

“Good,” he said and kissed her shoulder.

“Why did you take the toy out?” she asked him, her green eyes sparkling.

“Because I couldn’t handle watching you come from a toy, and not on my cock” he said darkly, and she giggled.

“You’re hopeless Jones. So should we toss the drawer?”

He looked horrified, “DEFINITELY NOT!” he lightly smacked her ass, and she laughed at him.

Emma rolled to her side, her breathing slowing down. She took a moment to sit herself up, thankful that he wiped her down, so she didn’t get everything dirty.

“Alright Jones, we had our fun. I need to see where the delivery guy is at with the boxes” she said, rolling up and throwing on a pretty sundress and some panties. He just sat there dazed by her, and she kneeled next to him.

“You done ogling, and ready to help?” she said kissing his cheek and he rolled onto his back and pulled her to his chest as she giggled, and he peppered her cheeks and lips with kisses.

“As you wish” and got up, throwing his pants and tee shirt back on. Emma shook her head at him and started pulling shoes out and stacking them. She pulled a pair of tall black suede boots out, and those caught his attention.

“Thigh-high boots love?” he said, mental images flooding his brain and he felt all the blood rush south.

Emma smirked at him, “If you don’t help pack Killian, we are never getting home” she said slapping him in his arm where she knew he wasn’t bruised.

“Oi, hitting the invalid? Bad form Swan” he said, and she rolled her eyes at him.

He knelt down next to her, “Go out with me tonight” he said. Emma looked at him with sparkling eyes and kissed him. “Okay,” she said.

Killian got up, and went through the apartment, removing all the artwork Emma had tagged and laying them carefully on the couch for wrapping. He popped into her room, “do you have spackle?” and she shook her head.

“We can get some while we are out” and the door buzzer rang. She hopped up and pulled open the door. A young man came in carrying large

rolls of bubble wrap, boxes, and packing tape. Killian watched the young man take in Emma’s appearance, and definitely her lack of bra.

He cleared his throat, Emma looked at him confused and finished signing the receipt. The young man left quickly and threw Killian a sheepish look.

“What did I miss?” she asked him. He shrugged, “nothing of consequence” and grabbed the bubble wrap. Emma grabbed some boxes and began assembling them in her room.

Packing her shoes, folding clothes, and she looked at the clock, it was nearly one. She went out to find Killian, and he was just finishing wrapping her photos.

“Let’s go get lunch,” she said, and he nodded.

He strolled toward her, “I need a shower. Care to join me?” he said running his hand down her arms.

She smiled, “Just a shower” and he nodded. “I can live with that for now” he said and led her to the bathroom.

Killian dressed in jeans a soft tee shirt and ballcap, and Emma came out of the bathroom with makeup on, and a white sundress that was to her feet, her hair braided.

He swallowed thickly, the vision of her in a white dress doing something to him on a level he hadn’t experienced before.

She grabbed a purse, and her sunglasses, and turned toward him smiling. What?” she asked.

He shook his head, “Nothing love. You look terrific” he said.

Emma smiled up at him, “Come on, I know the perfect place to take you” she said.

They got to the lobby, and she whistled for a cab. Killian was surprised she could whistle that loudly, but nothing about her truly shocked him. Emma Swan was an absolute marvel, his marvelous treasure.

Emma directed the cabbie to “Seaport district please”, and Killian looked out the window smiling, looking out at the city breezing past them. She gave him an address and they arrived there shortly.

Emma swiped her card in the holder and thanked the man, leading Killian toward something resembling a seafood shack. “The barking Crab” he said laughing at the name and she nodded.

“I love their Mussels,” she said, and he nodded taking her hand and leading her inside.

They opted to sit outside next to the Channel on the patio. He looked around, taking it all in and Emma smiled watching him looking at every little thing. “DO you like it?” she asked.

He smiled at her, “I do. So, what’s good here?” he asked.

“Everything. But I don’t know what your plans for dinner are” she said.

“I was going to take us to a seafood place, but I don’t mind eating seafood all day and night, it is my favorite,” he said, and she nodded.

Their waitress appeared and Emma ordered beers for them and rattled off about 4 different items. Killian was distracted watching the boats and all the people walking along the waterway.

“I can see why you like it here,” he said still watching everything.

Emma squeezed his hand on the tabletop. “It’s been my home for a long time, but this will always be here, we can visit whenever we want. I want you to be home, ok?” she said, and he looked at her with an impish smile and nodded.

“I promise I will bring you back often love” and she smiled agreeing.

Killian was amazed at the order, mussels steamed in wine, crab legs, hunks of lobster with butter and garlic sauce, and some kind of delicious roasted potatoes.

They ate and talked. Laughing, and pointing at people as they walked by, he gazed at her often, looking so carefree and happy, their jokes felt like inside jokes just between them.

Killian knew this was it, she was it for him. He listened as Emma told him a ridiculous story about August and an idea, he had to try digging for clams on a weekend trip they took once, and how he sliced his foot wide open on a razor clam, bleeding all over the sand.

He liked hearing her happy memories, he hoped this weekend would be one of many for them, minus their argument. Their Waitress offered to take a photo of them, their first together he thought smiling.

They finished up their lunch and walked along the waterway, and when four o’clock rolled around Emma hailed a cab to take them home.

He remembered he needed to get Augusts' package, and they did need spackle for the nail holes, so he made a small list and grabbed the green keys telling Emma he was running to the store for that.

He dialed Augusts' cell, and he picked up immediately.

“This better be a friendly call Jones,” he said.

“I am running out, text me the address and I will pick up your stuff while I am out” Killian said.

“Ok, I will call and let them know you are coming. Ask to see Marco” he said.

“This isn’t anything illegal, is it?” Killian asked seriously.

August barked out a laugh, “no Jones. Just a gift for Em, but she can’t see it, so you need to pack it away where she won’t find it before her birthday” he said.

Killian smiled, “ok. Ill text you when I have it” he replied.

“You may see something there that you like too,” he said cryptically.

“I will text you later,” Killian said, and he heard a man in the background. “August is everything ok?” he asked.

“Yah, yah Jones. I will talk to you soon.” Killian heard someone distinctly call August “babe” before the phone cut out. Did August have someone that he was seeing? He shook the thought off, it was none of his business.

He hailed a cab giving the address and was brought to a small shopfront.

Killian paid for the cab and stepped out, the front door of the shop open, and he smiled. A jewelry store, he shook his head and walked inside.

An older man was seated on a stool, glasses perched low on his nose, and he looked up noticing Killian. “You must be Jones,” he said with a slight accent.

Killian nodded and extended his hand, “Killian Jones. August Booth sent me here” he said a little unsure.

The man nodded and got up disappearing into the back room of the store. He came out with a wrapped package setting it down in front of him.

It was not small, but too large for their suitcase, he would need to wrap it and hide it in a moving box, he thought.

Marco eyed him, “is there something else you might care to see Killian?” the man asked.

Killian looked up at him and scanned the store. “Maybe” and he turned to walk along with the cases. He stopped in front of the case, spotting something.

His heart racing, blood pounding through him, “can I see that one” he pointed, and Marco smiled and nodded, opening the case, and bringing the tray out. He grabbed a velvet cloth, and Killian pointed.

Marco held it up, “I see you have exquisite taste my boy” and Killian swallowed. “May I?” and Marco handed it to him with the cloth wrapped around the base.

Killian looked down, it was perfect, he smiled. “Emma would be very lucky” he said quietly to Killian.

Killian swallowed. “Um, I am not sure, you see we haven’t been together with all that long, I don’t know if it would be a wise choice” he stammered.

Marco nodded and took it back from him. “How about I put this on hold, and remove it from the floor, I will give you 30 days. You can call me, and if you want it, I will take installments if you wish” he said knowingly.

Killian swallowed, “How much is it?” he asked.

“Forty. But for Emma, Thirty” Marco said taking it back and tucking it safely inside of a velvet box and setting it on the counter.

Killian swallowed, “Uh, yeah. Um, do you have a card I can take with me?” he asked, and Marco slid one to him.

“How about we look over here my boy” and Marco led Killian across to necklaces, and bracelets. He scanned the case, and Marco pulled out a few trays.

“Emma is simple, she doesn’t wear a lot of jewelry,” he said, and Marco nodded knowingly. “Do you know her?” Killian asked the man.

Marco smiled at him, “very well actually. August and she both worked here in their younger days” he said.

Killian smiled at that, “well, what do you think would be most appropriate?” he asked.

Marco lifted a pendant, it was a circle, on a gold chain. “Very simple” Marco said, “perfect for Emma,” he said. Killian knew she would like it, so he nodded, and Marco rang it up, and wrapped it for him. The box small enough to fit in his pocket.

“It was a pleasure my boy” Marco grinned and shook Killian’s hand.

“Thank you, I uh, I will be in touch. Just don’t mention it to August please” and Marco nodded.

Killian headed out, and Marco’s voice rang out “She would be very lucky” he smiled at Killian, and Killian nodded heading out of the store in a daze, with Augusts' package tucked under his arm.

He hailed a cab rattling off an address to a hardware store near Emma’s apartment and thought about the ring the entire drive until the cab came to a stop.

He got out, and grabbed what they needed, and asked for a paper bag so he could stash Augusts' box in it without Emma spotting it. He shot a text off to August, and he didn’t respond as he made his way into Emma’s building.

Emma was laying on the couch out of his sight when he came in, and he quickly set the bag on the counter, noticing her books and photos all wrapped and boxed.

“Emma?” He called out, and she popped up scaring him.

“Hey, where have you been?” She asked smiling.

“I went to the hardware store on my google app, talked to a nice old man for quite a while,” he said, it wasn’t a lie he thought.

Emma smiled at him, “Well the closet is packed, out here, and the bathroom except for a few things we need out for two days. Should we start loading the truck?” she asked, and he nodded.

Killian grabbed the paper bag and headed to the bedroom, ten boxes neatly labeled were stacked up, and he saw a few lefts. He quickly slid the present for Emma in their suitcase and took August’s wrapping it in bubble wrap and shoved it into one of the boxes.

Emma appeared in the doorway, “What time is our reservation?” she asked startling him.

“I made it for 8:00, I wasn’t sure how long this would take” and she nodded at him.

“How about you go grab the elevator, and I will start bringing these out to it, just hold it until they are all inside” he said, and she nodded slipping her sandals on.

He began lifting all the boxes out and depositing them in the elevator while Emma stood there holding it open, texting on her phone.

He grabbed her photographs and carefully leaned them against the wall as they descended to the garage. Emma unlocked the car, and he began loading it.

“I will grab your bag last before we leave,” he said to her, and she nodded looking in the car.

“You were right, maybe I had more than I thought,” she said smiling and he put his arm around her neck pulling her close.

“Told you” and kissed her with a smacking kiss.

They headed back in, and Emma looked around her apartment. “You got spackle?” she asked him, and he nodded, walking to the bedroom, and handed it to her.

“Sit, I got it,” he said, and she laid on the couch on her phone while he walked through filling tiny nail holes.

“How long did you leave here for Swan?” he called out from the hallway. “Three years,” she said, and he was surprised. “Did August live in Boston too?” he asked.

“For two, not with me, but just a block away. Canada is the furthest he has ever been from me” she said.

Killian nodded and filled the last holes, the pink spackle already drying white in some spots. “So, your punching bag, our suitcase, and maybe one more box?” he asked her, and she scanned the room, making sure nothing was left.

“Yep, and the kitchen stuff for donation. I called for a pickup of that though while you were out, they will be here Monday morning” she said, and he nodded.

He collapsed in an armchair, and she smiled. “Thank you for your help” she said.

He smiled, “I would do this ten times if that were what it would take love” he said.

Emma laughed and nodded, getting up to head toward the bedroom. “Babe, what’s the name of the restaurant?” she called out to him.

“Mastro's Ocean Club,” he said glancing at the app on his phone. He heard Emma let out a whistle as she walked down the hall towards him. She plopped on his lap and kissed his cheek.

“That is very pricey sir,” she said. “We can go somewhere less expensive, that place is like Rockefeller expensive” and he smiled at her.

“Em, it is fine, we aren’t eating there every day, love. Let’s go get dressed up and have a fancy dinner” he said bopping her nose.

She frowned, “Did you bring a dinner jacket?” and he laughed, “I did actually. I looked it up and booked it before we left” and she looked surprised.

“Alrighty then!” She said laughing at him. She stayed curled up on his lap for a little while, until he shifted her.

“My legs are numb Swan,” he said kissing her hair.

She stretched out and rolled to the floor, the rug softening her fall. Killian laughed at her, and she smiled watching him rub the blood back into his legs.

He rolled to the floor next to her and swept her hair back off her face, and leaned over her to kiss her.

“You taste like garlic,” he said, and she laughed.

“So do you, but I don’t mind” and they laid there making out like teenagers on the rug for a while. Killian finally rolled to the side and glanced at the clock. “You need time to get ready?” he asked her, and she nodded as she sat up.

“I am hopping in the shower,” he said, and she went to her closet looking at the choices she left out. She had two dresses that might suffice, it was a short black leather dress that she loved, and she had left out her tall black heels.

She heard Killian in the shower and turned on her curling wand, laying out all her makeup on her dresser.

She walked out to call August, and he picked up right away.

“Hey, sunshine,” he said.

“Hi. I miss you” she whined.

August laughed at her, “How is everything, all patched up?” he asked.

“Yep. We went to lunch, and we are going to dinner in a bit. What are you up to?” she asked as she flipped through her menu drawer, gathering them all up to toss.

“Ah, not much. I finished the wire fraud case, and I am having dinner with a friend myself” he said.

Emma dropped the menus, “Are you going on a date!” She asked excitedly and he laughed.

“You could say that,” he said cryptically.

“August! I want to know everything! Please?” she begged.

“His name is Scott, and this is our 4th or 5th date, right?” he called out and Emma nearly dropped the phone. “He is in your apartment with you, like right now!” she squealed.

August laughed, “You’re on speaker Em,” he said, “Be good.”

“Scott, what is your last name, and Hi, I’m Emma, and are you guys in a relationship?” She said quickly hearing August sigh.

A deep voice came out, “Hi Emma, I have heard a lot about you. I am Scott Wilson, I work in IT, and yes I like to think Auggie, and I are in a relationship” he said.

Emma was speechless and burst into laughter. “Auggie! OH MY GOD, You will never be August ever again! Thank you so much Scott!” she laughed, and August took her off speakerphone, “Why?!” he was chastising Scott who appeared to be laughing.

“No way duckling, you will never be calling me that, or I will disown you” he said.

“Aw Auggie you can’t give your sister back” she teased.

“I hate you,” he said without malice.

“I know Auggie, but it will be ok. So, when you come to see us, you will be bringing Scott too right?” she said practically bouncing in her seat.

She could practically hear Augusts' eyes roll through the phone, “Perhaps” he said. “Now go enjoy your dinner with Jones,” he said.

“Finnnnnnneeeee” She whined, “wait! I have a question” and she thought to Killian’s refusal of her to ask August anything bedroom-related.

“Actually, never mind, I got it” and August laughed.

“Love you,” he said.

“Bye Scott! Love you Auggie” she singsonged and he hung up on her.

She sat there laughing, and Killian came out in a towel, “What’s so funny love?”

Emma stood up, “August has a boyfriend! I just caught them; his name is Scott. I need my laptop” and she rushed toward her bed grabbing it, pulling up a website, and Killian watched her start typing in the man’s information.

“Em, come on love. Don’t run a check on him” and she glared at him. “Auggie did one on you, fair is fair” she shrugged, and Killian laughed shaking his head. “You two are completely mental.”

“Ah-ha! Got you!” she said and pulled his address, tax information, ID, and a whole slew of other things.

“OH MY GOD” she exclaimed, and Killian leaned down.

“What?” he asked, “Em this feels wrong love, the man deserves privacy.”

She kept looking and clicked. “He has a Facebook page!” She began looking through all his photos until Killian pushed the lid of her laptop down.

“Love, please go get ready and leave the man alone,” he said softly.

Emma rolled onto her back, and looked up at him pouting, “But” and Killian dropped his towel, leaning between her legs.

“I suggest you go get ready love, or I am going to keep you here in this bed, and your thoughts off the person in August's life, by force if I have to” and he smirked at her, licking the seam of her lips. She felt him harden against her leg, “Okay! Let me up!” he laughed and rolled off her.

She went into the bathroom and tried to get her thoughts on tonight, on Killian, and tonight. Tomorrow she wanted to take him to a ballgame at Fenway, as a surprise, and she needed to focus. She applied her makeup a little heavier than usual, and her hair perfectly curled.

She stepped out and Killian was out in the living room watching tv, and she noticed her laptop missing. She glanced at the clock and pulled out her surprise for him. She stepped into the bathroom with them and her dress.

She put her pretty black lace set up, and her garter belt. She carefully rolled up her thigh highs, clipping them into place, and took a look at herself. She smirked, he would not know what hit him she thought, and pulled her dress on, Zipping it up.

She came out and slid her heels on, and grabbed her favorite clutch, putting necessities in there. She strolled out to the living room where Killian was waiting for her, and his jaw dropped.

“Hi,” she said, and his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. “Wow” is all he could manage.

He walked toward her wrapping his arms around her waist and looked down at her shoes. “Always such impractical footwear,” he said smiling against her lips.

“I know, but I like these” and he smiled at her.

“you look good enough to eat love, and his fingertips skirted the edge of her dress. Emma quickly pushed his hands away, “Nope! Food Jones, you promised me a date” she said smirking and he nodded and grabbed his jacket off the hook by the door. “Do you need anything else before we leave?” and she shook her head pushing the elevator button.

Killian caged her against the wall with his arms, nuzzling her neck. “You are going to drive me absolutely mad,” he said lightly nipping her pulse point.

“That’s the point,” she said and pecked him quickly.

Emma whistled for a cab, and let Killian get in first. She didn’t want him catching a glimpse of her surprise for him, and grinned. When they arrived at the restaurant, he paid for the cab and led her inside, his hand warm on the small of her back, her blood pumping through her.

She had to try to not grin or react to his touch and keep herself presentable in a place like this. They were seated at their table and Killian chose a bottle of wine.

Emma smiled at him; he was really going all out to impress her. “You know I am a sure thing Jones, no need to break the bank,” she said sliding her fingers deliberately up and down her wine glass and looking at him watching the movement.

Killian swallowed, almost choking on his wine as he listened to her words. “You deserve a fancy night out Swan, wined, dined, maybe even sixty-nined if you play your cards right love,” he said smirking. What he was not expecting what to feel Emma’s foot stroke up his leg. He looked at her, trying to keep his face impassive, and she smirked mischievously.

He grabbed her ankle surprising her, “Careful love, you’re playing with fire” he said lowly, his cock stiff in his pants, and Emma blew him a kiss.

“I think I can handle that Jones,” she said, and he took a deep breath, trying to calm his dick down. The waiter by some merciful god appeared, and placed their plates before them, giving them the interruption, he needed. He wanted desperately to give her the necklace, but he would wait until dessert.

He looked down at his plate, and an artful arrangement of seafood sat before him, and he smiled at Emma. She looked a little overwhelmed by her plate of crab legs, and the crackers, they really were barking crab casual people with beers and laughter over silly jokes. He smiled at her, the thought warming his heart, and began to eat, smirking as Emma called the waiter over to crack the legs and bring them back.

He laughed at her, “Why on earth would you order that if you didn’t know how to crack them?” She smiled and shrugged, “in a place like this I assumed they would at least pre-crack them for me” and smiled again as the waiter placed her plate back down.

They talked about all kinds of things, they decided to paint the bedroom in the loft, Emma asked if there was room for a bench in his shower, and he nodded. They were making plans to travel away for weekends, and it was just surprisingly easy to picture.

The waiter cleared their plates, and Emma started to say something before she was handed a dessert menu. “I am happy we are doing this, I really am” she said, and he cocked an eyebrow confused. “Us, a life, I didn’t know I wanted it so badly, but I guess I just needed to find you,” she said, and her cheeks turned pink.

He smiled, and reached into his coat, “I got you something today” and he slid the velvet box towards her, her eyes widening. She looked at him curiously, and he nodded “go on, open it” and he noticed her hands shake slightly.

She popped open the lid, and she smiled big and wide. She got up out of her chair and leaned down to kiss him in front of the whole restaurant.

“I love you,” she said and kissed him one last time returning to her seat. She held the circle up and looked at it. “It is beautiful Killian, I love it” she said with a little awe in her voice.

He blushed and nodded.

“When did you find the time?” she asked, and his ears turned pink she noticed.

“When I went out today, I passed by a store that caught my eye and I just wanted to get you something” he said.

She unclasped it, and asked, “would you help me?” and he got up swiftly and clasped it for her.

The waiter stopped by and smiled at them, “Dessert?” and she nodded, “but please pack it to go,” she said, and the waiter took her order and scurried away.

Killian looked at her and she smiled, shrugging at him. “We can have dessert later” she said, and he grinned at her laughing. “Too right you are, my love.”

They made out like teenagers in the back of the cab, Emma kept pushing his hands away from the hem of her dress, and the cabbie was probably scandalized by their behavior.

They made it to the elevator before Killian dropped the dessert and pushed her against the wall of the elevator. He was finally able to slide his hands successfully up her dress. He stopped and pulled back, lifting her dress up, his pupils blown wide, and Emma bit her lip.

“Surprise,” she said, and he hoisted her over his shoulder as the elevator opened. He unlocked her door, practically sprinting to her room. He removed her shoes, dropping them along the hallway, and set her down on the soft carpet.

She turned away and he slid the zipper of her dress down, and she turned back to him. Her fingers sliding his coat off and unbuttoning his dress shirt. He toed his shoes off and tore his pants and socks off.

Emma pushed him to sit on the edge of the bed, and slowly removed her dress, her arms sliding out of each hole, and slowly peeling it down her until it dropped on the floor.

Killian’s eyes were nearly pitch black with desire, his tongue licking over his lips as he took in the sight of her surprise.

“Bloody Christ Emma, have you been wearing this all night?” he asked, and she bit her lip nodding.

Killian drank in the sight before him, she was a bloody goddess. Black sheer stockings, a lacy garter belt, and a matching bra and panty set he hadn’t seen before. He stood up and picked her up, her legs going around his waist, and he smiled as he laid her back on the bed.

He stood there looking at her perched on her elbows looking at him, waiting for him to make a move. He grabbed his pants, “Can I take a picture of you love?” she hesitated and nodded. He got the camera up and she tipped her head back and spread her legs. Snap, Snap, Snap.

He walked around the bed taking pictures of her at different angles. Emma smirked and laughed in some, he captured her perfectly.

“Killian stop!” she said pouting and he threw his phone to the floor and leaned over her.

“Sorry love, something so perfect needs to be captured” he said weaving his hand into her curls and kissing her deeply, angling her head with his hand.

He kissed down her neck, his hand snapping the garters against her skin, and she gasped at the sensation. He smirked against her skin doing it again, working his way down, kissing the tops of her breasts, sucking, and licking her soft skin.

Emma had never felt so desired in her entire life, it was an intoxicating feeling. His lips and tongue lavishing over her heated skin, desire pooling between her legs as he kissed his way further down her toward the apex of her thighs.

She gasped as he snapped the garter straps against her skin, surprising her. She felt his warm breath over her clit through the sheer panties, and his nose nuzzled against her. She moaned at the small contact.

“Gods you smell divine love” and he licked her through her panties. It was so much, and not enough. His hands rubbed up and down her legs, squeezing her skin and toying with her.

She was surprised when he unhooked the garter belt from her stockings, and slid her panties down, refastening the belts to her stockings. She smirked at him, “You want them on?”

He spread her thighs wider, bending her knees up on the bed, and lowered himself to just above her clit. “You look too delicious love, I am going to devour every inch of you” he said darkly, and he began lapping at her clit, his thumbs spreading her folds apart. Her head dropped back to the bed and her neck arched as he plunged his tongue inside her, fucking her with his mouth.

“Oh god” she moaned, her fingers scraping against his scalp, and he moaned against her cunt. He was drinking in every drop of her arousal; she was so wet, it was intoxicating. Her scent, her arousal, he felt drunk on her. He tucked two fingers inside her, continuing to lap at her, and curled them, thrusting, and rubbing her just right.

Emma squeezed her tits, pinching her nipples through the lace as Killian swiped over that spot with just the right amount of pressure. Her orgasm was rolling through her limbs, her veins crackling in anticipation as he sucked her clit into his mouth and she screamed, her hips bucking, her hands clenching the sheets as it tore through her with fury.

Killian brought her down gently and laid beside her. He pulled her above him, steadying her hips as he lowered her onto his thick length. Emma moaning deeply as he filled her up. She leaned back on one arm slightly, the angle allowing that last little bit of his cock to slip inside her.

“Fucking Christ Emma” he bit out, his tongue swiping over his lips, tasting her there. She began to move, to lift her hips, up and down his length fucking him with a hurried purpose. He leaned up, his arms under hers pulling her down on his cock hard and deep.

He groaned as he hit the bottom of her cunt, her walls so hot, and tight. She cried out, her nails digging into his skin, as she tried to keep her rhythm steady. His eyes nearly rolled back in his head when she squeezed him like a vice, sliding up and down him.

Killian gripped her hair and pulled her closer, pushing deeper inside of her. His lips bruising hers in hard kisses. “I am going to come Emma” he growled and bit down at the junction of her neck and shoulder” and she went faster, harder, and he could feel that spot deep inside her with the tip of his cock.

He held her tight, intent on bringing her with him when he felt her walls pulse around him, and he thrust up into her harder, and she gripped him as her body began to shake.

“Oh god” she screamed, and he let go, his cum filling her as he continued thrusting himself into her, emptying himself inside of her.

Emma gripped onto him as she came again, feeling every lash of cum hit her deep inside, she sagged against his sweaty chest. His head buried in her chest, his hands gripping her hips still.

He pulled back to look at her, he pushed her sweaty curls off of her face and pulled her into a kiss. “I’m not done with you yet love,” he said lifting her off of him, flipping her onto her stomach.

He wrapped his arm under her stomach hauling her up to her knees and bent her forward. He dragged his hand through the cum leaking out of her, smearing it over her puckered hole.

“Emma, can I?” he asked.

She looked over her shoulder at him and nodded. He reached over and grabbed the tube of lube on the nightstand and warmed her up by using his finger. “Relax love, I won’t hurt you” and he felt the tight ring relax a fraction allowing him entry.

He slid his index finger in slowly, her back arched and she groaned. “It’s ok love, I will go slow, I promise Emma” and her head dipped down to the mattress.

He gently slid it in and out and squirted the lube over his dick, coating himself thickly, bringing his cock to full attention as he continued pushing his finger in and out. He squirted some over her ass, pushing it in with his finger, loosening her up, slipping in a second finger. She moaned at the entry.

Killian went slow, slightly scissoring his fingers, feeling her soft tissues relaxing. Emma was lightly rocking her hips into his hand, and he smiled. He knelt up and brought the tip of his dick to her hole, removing his fingers quickly and replacing them with the head of his cock.

Emma cried out softly at the different feeling, her mind in a million places, as she tried to focus on Killian’s reassuring coos. She felt the tip of his cock slip in, “oh god” she moaned biting her lip.

Killian rubbed her lower back with his hand, gently rocking himself into her ass gently, and she felt him inch in further. She felt him add more lube, spreading it around her, and he slid in further.

Killian looked down, watching as his dick slid further into her perfect ass. The tight muscles clenching him tightly, he bit down on his lip until the lube allowed him to slide in further. Emma moaned, “are you ok love” and she nodded.

“Good girl,” he said lovingly, and began rocking, sliding deeper with each soft thrust. He pushed a little harder, and her muscles gave way allowing him full entry. He went slow, and his eyes snapped shut as he slid all the way in.

He gripped her hip with his hand steadying her and used his clean one to reach around and rub her clit. Emma arched, her head tilting to the side, and a breathy moan escaping her swollen lips.

“Oh love, it’s so good. So soft, and tight love” he reassured her, keeping his pace steady and slow. His fingers rubbing her clit, teasing her lips, and her sensitive nub which was swollen. He rubbed his cum over her folds, and she cried out again with his next plunge.

He rocked against her ass, a little faster, his sac slapping against her clit with his thrust, the feeling of being buried inside her was bloody heaven. He kept going, keeping pace with his hand, and Emma lifted up onto her elbows, changing the angle, making it feel tighter.

He groaned her name, and Emma began rocking herself against him, the feeling so intense. Her arousal skyrocketing as his sac kept slapping at her clit with each thrust, his big cock stretching her ass, she felt so full. His hand rubbing her clit skillfully, playing her just right.

She felt another orgasm brewing in her belly, her core flooding with arousal as she looked back seeing the look on his face as he watched his cock going in and out of her ass. “Holy fuck” she cried, and she knew it was going to come fast and hard.

His cock slid in and out of her with ease now, and he felt a gush of arousal wash over his fingers inside her, her ass scorching hot and so fucking soft around him. “Em I am going to come with you love,” he said harshly, and he quickened the pace of his fingers inside her, and Emma began trembling.

“that’s it love, good girl, squeeze me Em,” he said, and she moaned. He pinched the lips of her clit, and she screamed again, her cunt gripping his fingers, walls pulsing, and her ass gripped him, and he saw a flash of white as his orgasm shot through him like a firework. He slowed his pace, as her ass milked every drop out of him.

He waited until she sagged, and slowly pulled out of her. He leaned back on his heels, Emma breathing heavy, her face on her arms on the bed, her ass in the air still. He swallowed as he took in the sight of him dripping out of both of her holes. Bloody Fuck she was going to be the death of him.

“I’ll be right back love” and stood feeling dizzy. He went to the shower turning it on warm, not hot, and set a towel on the bench over the cold tile. He washed his hands and grabbed a cloth to wipe her. She mewled as he wiped her gently.

He tied her hair up in a bun and took off the bra, and stockings. He bent to scoop her up and carried her to the shower. He set her on the bench gently and detached the showerhead, changing the setting to a softer setting, and knelt between her legs.

He looked at her, she was wrecked but so fucking beautiful. “Love, I am going to clean you up, ok?” and she looked at him, eyes glassy, and nodded with a small smile.

He grabbed the washcloth wetting and soaping it lightly and began washing her gently. She moaned slightly at the contact, but he kissed her forehead and kept going. He helped her to stand and cleaned her thoroughly, and held her, washing her whole body.

He grabbed a towel and gently dried her off, slipping her nightgown over her. He tucked her into her bed, and quickly showered himself, climbing into bed with her. Emma’s eyes were open, and she smiled sleepily at him.

He tucked her into his arms and kissed her.

“Are you alright my love?” he asked.

Emma looked at him “Wow” she said a giggled softly. He smirked, “so I didn’t hurt you?” and she shook her head. “It was just, wow,” she said turning her face into his chest.

“Love don’t be embarrassed if you enjoyed it. Never be ashamed of me loving you, or us making love in our bed” he said softly.

“It’s not something I would do all the time, but you didn’t hurt me. It was just completely different” she said sleepily.

He nodded, “I love you” and he nodded, curling her fingers into his chest hair, and fell asleep. He laid there thinking about what just happened and smiled. He never thought he would have this, loving someone so wholly, body, heart, all of it.

He thought of the first time that he saw her, and let that memory guide him into sleep with Emma wrapped in his arms.

@hookedmom @xsajx @kymbersmith-90 @kmomof4 @katie-dub @ohmightydevviepuu @lassluna @pirateherokillian @teamhook @stahlop @elizabeethan @whimsicallyenchantedrose @resident-of-storybrooke @therooksshiningknight @jennjenn615 @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @killianswannn @stories-enchanted @eleveneitherway @girl-in-a-tiny-box @withheartfulloflove @kday426 @lyssapup27 @swanlovato @kaoslikesstuff @djlbg @kristi555 @laschatzi @xarandomdreamx @lkles08 @wyntereyez @bubblegum1425 @xhookswenchx @yasbio2015 @tiganasummertree @winterbaby89 @wefoundloveunderthelight @hollyethecurious @let-it-raines @jonesfandomfanatic @searchingwardrobes @dreamingdreamsalways @oncechicagolove @andiirivera @vvbooklady1256 @gingerchangeling @everything-person @klynn-stormz @qualitycoffeethings @vampcoffeegyrl23 @enchanted-swans @cassy1511 @ohmakemeahercules @donteattheappleshook @bluewildcatfanatic @the-darkdragonfly @demisexualemmaswan @lavenderbudd @grimmswan @spartanguard @flslp87 @ultraluckycatnd @sarahpaq08 @thisonesatellite @captainswan21 @zaharadessert @mariakov81 @snowbellewells @xouatxcs @kiwistreetswan @batana54 @nadine200179 @probalicious17 @courtorderedcake @julesep3026 @jackieorioncat @whatthehell102082 @xemmaloveskillianx @jarienn972 @sthonour @linda8084 @carpedzem @pirateprincesslena @daxx04 @winterbythesea @artistic-writer @scientificapricot @cocohook38 @wisfan3000 @chrisilybrooke @pcrcabcth @captainswan4life85 @molly958 @kingofmyheart14 @badwolfreturns @itsfridaysomewhere @mcakers @chamomileandmint @fallingforthecaptain @lovethelifeyoulive1106 @onceratheart18 @strangestarlighttree @omgmarvelous @justanother-unluckysoul @anothersworld @purplehawkcaptain

#emma swan #killian jones #once upon a time #ouat #august booth

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datavenia-hp · 4 years ago

Text

Frappe non grata (Draco/Harry, 1k, G)

When Harry walks into the new coffee shop in Diagon Alley, he's hit with a rude awakening when the clerk he's been checking out turns out to be Draco Malfoy. #Pre-Slash #Coffee Shop

A/N: Inspired by this tweet. Also posted on AO3.

Sweat trickles down the back of Harry’s neck as he rushes into the new coffee shop in Diagon Alley. He’s greeted with the heavy smell of coffee beans and pastries, and he eyes the glass case by the counter with anticipation. He’s just finished the last bit of his half marathon training. With three days until the race, he feels a sense of pride at how far he’s come.

After his split with Ginny, Harry can now admit that he fell into a bit of a depression and periods of unproductive wallowing. It was at Hermione’s urging that he sign up for something that would get him out of the house and back into the world.

Harry wasn’t sure if he liked the skin-tight nylon running gear, but he couldn’t deny how comfortable they were. And after six months of training, he’s lost a few stone and can at least acknowledge that he looks pretty good.

He licks his lips and stares at the tarts behind the glass deciding that he can allow himself this one indulgence.

The back of a clerk behind the counter near the till steals his attention. The long, white-blonde hair, tied into a bun, is the first thing Harry notices. Though the man is leaning a hip against the counter, Harry can tell the man is tall, certainly taller than him. He’s dressed quite well for a shop clerk, Harry thinks, eyeing the well-tailored black trousers that accentuate his small waist. The crisp white button-down shirt is tucked in, the sleeves of which are rolled up to his elbows.

He gulps as the man turns to face him. Harry’s eyes trace the curve of the man’s muscular arms folded across his broad chest. His gaze travels up past the collar and he finds himself a bit mesmerised by the expanse of pale, exposed skin.

When his gaze reaches the man’s face, Harry’s stomach drops.

“Malfoy?”

The clerk jumps and straightens up. A pair of familiar grey eyes are on Harry and he’s suddenly filled with a rush of regret, anger, disappointment, and, to his utter horror, lust.

Malfoy’s nostrils flare a few times before he manages to say, “Welcome to Brews and Afters.” He waits for Harry to say something, but when he doesn’t, Malfoy raises an eyebrow. “What would you like?”

Harry stares at him, still unable to process the man in front of him. He can’t remember the last time he’d seen Malfoy, but he’s fairly certain he hadn’t looked like that.

Malfoy raises his hands in front of his chest and begins motioning sign language with his fingers. Harry doesn’t speak any form of sign language, muggle or wizarding, but he quickly suspects Malfoy isn’t signing the words he’d previously just spoken.

“Er—” Harry takes a step toward the counter and looks behind it, spotting two other employees. One is sitting on the counter by the espresso machine and the other is hunched over the prep table leaning on her elbows. Harry stares at them but addresses Malfoy. “Could I have a toffee nut frappe?”

“Does anyone want to make a frappe?” Malfoy asks, eyes still focused on Harry. He’s offering Harry a neutral look, but his eyebrows are slightly raised. After a few moments, Malfoy turns to the other employees who silently shake their heads. “Well,” he says, turning back to Harry, with a smirk. “No one wants to make it.”

Harry clenches his jaw and keeps himself from saying something he’ll regret. Malfoy likes to use simple misunderstandings to rile Harry up, although Harry’s never understood how his frank and obvious quips and flippant digs at him could be mistaken for anything than what they are. Malfoy’s never uttered another prejudiced word since they were in school, but he’s also never missed an opportunity to antagonise Harry.

Harry quickly decides that two can play at that game. If Malfoy wants to make things difficult, Harry will respond in kind.

He glances at the glass case. “I’ll take everything you have in here,” he smiles, pointing to the array of croissants, palmiers, muffins, quiche, and tarts.

Malfoy’s smirk fades. “...All of it?”

“All of it,” Harry confirms.

It takes the three of them almost fifteen minutes to pack everything up and cast the proper stasis charms. They bicker back and forth and Malfoy enlists one of them to stay past their scheduled shift to help restock the pastry case.

Harry absentmindedly listens and ends up taking the time to stretch his legs. He is bent over in a forward fold when he hears a throat clear from behind him.

“Here,” Malfoy finally says. Harry looks up and smiles at him as he holds out a dozen boxes tied with string. “Thank you for your patronage,” he grits, a pained expression taking hold of his features.

Harry rises from the stretch, turns around, and takes hold of the pastries. He glances at the other employees who’ve returned to their former relaxed positions on the countertops. One of them smirks and says sarcastically, “Be seein’ yeh.”

“Count on it,” Harry replies.

He grips the packages, and an onset of doubt takes over as he realises he has no idea what to do with twelve boxes of baked goods. A myriad of ideas flood his mind. He quickly decides to owl a box to some of his friends and colleagues as well as his children. His panic begins to fade; it’s quickly replaced with the beginnings of a plan. “I’ll be back tomorrow!”

He catches Malfoy’s face as he turns to leave; his cheeks are flushed and he’s biting his lower lip between his teeth. Harry’s provoked a level of outrage in the other man, whom he hasn’t seen in years, and it’s giving him a better high than any run he’s ever finished.

Harry thinks a hundred and forty-two galleons was worth it. He just hopes he can stop himself from buying the entire pastry case when he comes back tomorrow.

#drarry #draco/harry #drarry drabble #my writing #under 1k

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annhellsing · 5 years ago

Text

Rough One

notes: soooo i started this at a deeply unchristian hour and it turned smutty on me, of course it did. welcome to keishin fucker’s anonymous!!! rating: explicit, there’s wall sex!! pairing: ukai keishin / reader word count: 2,322

It’s difficult, remembering to romanticize even the unkind moments in your life. And waking up before six o’clock in the morning, you’re convinced, is deeply unkind.

You can see Kurasuno high school on the hill, at the other end of the steep slope. It looks clean and faint-orange in the half-sunrise from your spot far down the street. You stare, in a haze of wishing you were still asleep for several minutes.

And then you return to your senses. You lift your chin up a fraction and breathe in cold, early-spring air. The storefront to your right is crowded outside with vending machines, you’re almost tempted to grab a bottle of iced coffee and try to take a nap in your office.

But you shake your head, too tired merely dismiss the thought in your mind. The bell rings above your head when you open the door.

A man sits behind the counter, his hair spiked and his eyes tired. His bangs are held back with a headband, you pause a moment before turning down an aisle to look at him. He’s blonde and handsome, with his nose buried in a magazine.

He looks up at you just for a second before returning to the article he’s reading. His smile is slow and sleepy. It makes you feel warm in the pit of your stomach.

“Morning,” he offers up when he isn’t looking at you any more. You nod.

“Good morning,” you return.

You drift off down the aisle sporting bandages and rubbing alcohol, picking up a bottle of contact solution. Then you stare blankly at the labels on the pre-packaged food, considering breakfast somewhat distantly. The only time your vision is in any way pointed is when you turn your head to look at the clerk.

He’s more than handsome, you decide.

You think of your bed and its fluffy duvet, unmade and well-loved. You washed your sheets last night, and rolling between them with him would be nice. Passing in and out of sleep, his lips at your neck and shoulder.

You look at him again, at his tongue that darts out to wet his upper lip. His eyes aren’t moving across the magazine page.

He’s handsome and you want to take him home.

Your shoulders droop and you decide on what you’re going to eat, picking up the package and tucking it under your arm. As much as you’d like to mill about, stealing glances at this very beautiful man-- it’s getting later by the second. And you’ve made promises this morning.

“Just this?” he asks when you set your items down on the counter. He’s set his magazine down in preparation. And though he seems as sleep-addled as you, you appear to have his full attention.

“Mm,” you mutter in return. He quirks an eyebrow.

“You know, breakfast is the most important meal of the day,” he replies, gesturing to the heatbox at his elbow where meat buns slowly spin. “Want one of these? No charge.”

“Are you kidding?” you ask, giving a little smile that borders on playful. And he seems almost embarrassed at the offering.

“The high schoolers eat ‘em all up around eight, so you’re here just in time,” he continues. You shrug and open the heat box, taking a bun and putting it on the counter for him to ring up.

“I promised I’d meet my boyfriend up at the gym,” you say, “he coaches the volleyball team. I wanted to see them practice.”

“You must love him an awful lot to get up this early,” he comments. You smirk.

“Oh, yeah,” you say. “Hey, I was in the medicine aisle and--”

“Something not there?” he asks, he almost looks impatient. Your smile widens.

“Condoms,” you say, “you sell that here?”

He glances at the door behind you, then at the clock on the wall immediately above it. Then, he returns your impish smile and stands up from his stool.

“In the back,” he says, “be lucky my mother’s not here.”

“Lead the way,” you reply, your purchases forgotten on the counter.

You follow close behind him, putting your hands on Keishin’s waist. He feels warm, his pace slowing considerably so that you can fold your arms around him.

“I said in the back for a reason,” he tells you, “I don’t want to traumatize my customers.”

“I love you,” you tell him, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. His blue tracksuit is faded and worn, the material scratching your lips. He sighs.

“Love you, too,” he says, “come on, we gotta be up at the gym in half an hour.”

“Wow,” you start, he takes your hand and keeps walking. You’re pulled along behind him. “I have you all to myself for a whole half hour? Think of the possibilities.”

“Oh, I have,” he says, “weird stunt, pretending you don’t know me.”

“Yeah, I don’t know what I was thinking,” you admit, “it was kinda hot, though.”

“You make the oddest shit really hot,” he replies. That heat in your stomach burns a little brighter. “That’s a compliment,” he adds.

“Thank you,” you say.

His hand, the one not gripped in yours, reaches into his tracksuit pocket. Keishin takes out the back room key and unlocks the door, flicking the light on as he guides you inside. The door is safely locked behind you.

“Someone could rob the place,” you tell him. But he’s already turned around, an expression other than exhaustion on his face.

“You think I care?” he asks. You shake your head.

You move towards him, putting your hands on his broad chest and moving him back towards the wall. The shelves are stacked close together with overstock items, but there’s enough room to move between them. You press Keishin back against the wall, applying affectionate pressure.

“I was thinking about you,” you say, “what we could be up to right now if we were both home.”

“Well, it is Friday,” he says, “I don’t have to coach on Saturdays until ten o’clock.”

“We can have more fun tomorrow,” you start, moving closer and pressing your chest against his. You dip your head, taking a soft kiss from him that he eagerly returns. “But I want you now.”

“You got me,” he smiles. He kisses you again, just a quick peck, like he needs it to live. “You can have me.”

You intend to.

You take his tracksuit zipper and tug it down, opening his jacket. You push your hands under his shirt, and though he flinches at how cold they are, he doesn’t complain. His chest is soft, but you can feel firm muscle underneath as you press him back against the wall.

Keishin turns his head to the side, covering his mouth just in time as he yawns. And though you try to giggle at him, the same compulsion takes you over.

“Jerk,” you kiss him again, for longer this time. He tastes like cigarettes and you don’t have the energy to tease him about that. But he can tell when you pull away that it’s a conscious choice not to comment.

“You’re beautiful,” he says, like he’s trying to make up for it. You roll your eyes.

“I know,” you say, leaning in again and kissing his jaw. Your hands push his shirt up his chest, but you’re too short on time to undress him. “So are you.”

The chatter fades to sluggish silence, broken up by the sound of Keishin’s appreciatory grunts. When you nip at his neck, his head lolls back to allow you better access. You hold him, pressed between your chest and the wall. Your heartbeat is loud as thunder against his, he wishes he had three hours at hand.

No, he doesn’t. He knows how important practice is to his team, how much of a fight it is to force them to sleep in on Saturdays. But his mind drifts to tomorrow, to doing this with more time to spare.

He rolls his shoulders, pressing back against you. When your hand skirts over the front of his pants, Keishin groans in your ear. The sound wakes you up a little bit, spurs you to action. You palm him a little more heavily, feeling his half-hard bulge stir and throb.

“You were thinking about me,” you say. He laughs, still close to your ear. The sound raises goosebumps on your neck.

“I already told you that,” he reminds you. Keishin cuts himself off with a low moan when your hand slips past the waistband of his pants. But, even with the time crunch you seem determined to be a tease.

You toy with him over his boxers, pressing your palm harder against him. He leans back against the wall, going rigid before relaxing. His smirk is still tired, but now it’s for a different reason.

“Love you,” you tell him again, placing a delicate kiss at the corner of his mouth. He turns his head, chasing your lips.

“Love you, too,” he sighs.

“Where are the condoms, Kei?” you ask, nudging his jugular with your nose. You kiss where his pulse point flutters.

His hand darts out, fumbling on the shelf beside you. He turns to look only for a second, grabbing the first box he touches and giving them up.

“Switch with me,” he says, you inspect the box and tear the top open. His hands on his shoulders guide you around him until your back is pressed against the wall instead.

“All right,” you say, “but don’t get any funny ideas. Who’s in charge here?”

“Trust me,” he huffs, “it’s you. It’s always going to be you.”

You smile at that, happy to find genuine earnestness overcoming the sleepy expression on his face. Keishin stands back far enough for you to shift the box of condoms from your hand to the crook of your elbow, you push his pants down his thighs.

“Wait--” he starts, “hang on, I want to--”

“Ten minutes or less,” you warn him, “I know how you get when you’re fingering me. You can go forever.”

“Only you would think that’s a bad thing,” he mumbles. But he kisses your exasperated look away, and in the very same breath that he coaxes you to lift your leg.

You hook it around his hip, granting him access up your skirt and between your legs. Keishin wastes none of the precious time he has to begin his exploration, dragging the pads of his middle and ring finger over the crotch of your panties.

The box of condoms slips, you hurry to snatch a packet from it before your grip fails and it falls to the ground. With one in your fist, you loop your arms around his neck.

“You’re pretty,” he tells you, hooking his finger through the gusset and tugging the cloth aside. He’s gentle, almost to a fault and when he circles your clit it’s almost frustratingly light in pressure.

“More,” you whisper, “now. We don’t have time for teasing.”

“Hey,” he says, “you’re telling me you weren’t being a tease when you had your hand down my pants?”

“That’s different,” you sigh.

“Yeah, how?” he asks. You shake your head.

“It’s funny to watch you look so needy,” you reply.

“Funny, huh?” he asks, you open your eyes and watch his expression turn playfully sinister. “Well, I could say the same about you.”

“Whatever happened to me--” you cut yourself off, strangling a moan as Keishin finally deigns to press a little harder on your clit. It’s not painful, far from it, it’s the perfect amount of contact. It takes a moment for you to right yourself before repeating, “What happened to me being in charge?”

“You call the shots, same as always,” he says. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No,” you insist, gripping his neck ever-tighter. “Please, no.”

“Since you asked so nicely--” he teases, slipping his fingers forward and sinking one inside you.

It’s jarring how quickly it happens, Kei can draw out foreplay with the best of them. But you look at the storeroom clock and realize with a sinking feeling in your stomach that it’s already fifteen minutes to seven.

“Hurry,” you whisper, tugging on his jacket with more impatience than you have energy.

“We got time,” he says, “we still got time. Come here.”

You’re pulled against him, hugged tight with one arm and your back is spared the wall. Keishin holds you there for a moment, wrapping you up in his warmth and the faint smell of smoke. You wish, more than anything, that you could fall asleep like that.

“Give me the rubber, babe,” he says. You drop it into his open palm and snake your arm back around his neck as quickly as you can.

He fumbles with it, content to lead while you have a rest. He tears the foil with his teeth and wastes no time rolling it down his cock.

“Ready?” he asks. You lift your head from his shoulder and kiss his cheek.

“Yes,” you tell him. He shifts, holding you against the wall and lining himself up.

In a slow, unassuming motion, Keishin eases into you. You fall forward again on his shoulder, too warm and content to stifle a moan.

“Now, that’s what I like to hear,” he grunts, pushing inside slow enough that you feel only a pleasant stretch.

His hand helping your leg stay wrapped around him relocates, finding its new home just above your joining. He teases your clit just as before, applying barely any pressure.

He starts up fast, rocking his hips and setting a pace that has you reeling. His middle finger presses harder, tapping and rolling over your clit in time with his shallow thrusts. You grab him tight, burying your head in his neck. You’re determined to leave as many love bites as you can below the collar, before you run out of time.

#ukai keishin #keishin ukai #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #ukai #ukai x reader #keishin x reader #keishin ukai x reader #ukai keishin x reader #haikyuu fic #haikyuu ukai #anniewrites #winks @ u all #this came outta almost nowhere #i did mean to write this for a while but #it happened quicker than i thought!!

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hailing-stars · 4 years ago

Text

@febuwhump day 16: broken bones

such a softie

summary

“Told you it was disgusting,” says Tony, as Peter pulls the metal bar and flushes the toilet.

“Shut up,” says Peter. His voice was so weak and miserable, Tony felt a stab of guilt.

“Feeling better?” he asks. He reaches out, and covers his forehead with his hand. “You feel a little warm.”

“I’m fine,” says Peter. “Let’s go back and watch the film.”

“Kid,” says Tony. “You’re clearly sick. We’ll go home, and you can rest, and we’ll come back when you’re better. It isn’t like we have to see this one tonight.”

Peter develops a sickness at the movies, and Tony attempts to make him feel better.

“Parker,” says Tony.

They’re standing outside of the movie theater, their planned meeting destination, and Tony doesn’t think he can make it through the double doors without asking about what’s hanging on the boy’s arm.

“Please explain that hideous purse.”

“Oh,” says Peter. He tugs on the strap. “It’s May’s movie purse.”

It’s said with a tone that implies Tony should’ve already known this information, and as if that one, short sentence is enough to properly explain why the hell Peter has it and why it’s so ugly.

“And you’ve brought it out into the light of day because…”

“Because,” stresses Peter, “it’s tradition. It might not be fashionable, but it’s absolutely the best purse to sneak snacks into the theater. It’s got so many pockets!”

“You brought that to carry snacks?” asks Tony, unimpressed. “You realize they have a concession stand, right?”

“You’re rich so you don’t understand,” Peter tells him. “You gotta sneak snacks from the dollar store, Mr. Stark, or you’ll pay seven dollars just for a coke.”

“Uh huh,” says Tony. He slings an arm around Peter, and together, they start towards the entrance. “And since, as you so wisely just pointed out, I’m a literal billionaire, you didn’t stop to think I’d buy the snacks?”

“It’s the principle. Five dollars for a box of Sour Patch Kids is robbery.”

Tony laughs as they step inside the building. They purchase their tickets, have them checked at the end of the roped line, and step into the open area. The (apparently) evil concession stand is in front of them. Tony starts in that direction when Peter grips his arm to stop him.

“It’s my money, Pete -”

“Wait,” says Peter. The boy closes his eyes, and Tony sighes. He recognizes that goofy expression. He knows he’s about to get some kind of melodramatic speech. “Do you smell that?”

Tony humors him, and inhales the aroma of buttery popcorn. “Yep. That’d be the popcorn you refuse to let me buy.”

“Not just popcorn,” says Peter. “It’s the movie magic smell.”

“Christ,” says Tony. “I wish May would’ve told me you transformed into a strange little gremlin once you walked through the theater doors.”

Tony continues towards the concession stand, where Peter manages to violate his principles and uses Tony’s credit card to buy a large popcorn, a large Cherry Coke, assorted candy boxes, a package of chocolate chip cookies and a soft pretzel with a cup of cheese sauce.

He proves his original point quite well, when, between the two of them, they order enough food to charge over a hundred dollars to his card.

They haul all the food to their seats, and Tony thinks maybe they should’ve paid for an extra seat just for all the kid’s snacks. It’s a ridiculously large amount of food. If it were anyone else but Peter, Tony would’ve doubted they’d eat it all.

Peter Parker is a garbage disposal that never gets full. He’s devoured the pretzel and starts tearing open the package of cookies before the previews even begin.

Out of the corner of Tony’s eye, he watches as the kid does the most reprehensible thing he’s ever seen. He dunks the chocolate chip cookie in the cheese sauce and eats it.

Tony releases a long sigh. “Kid, that is literally one of the most disgusting things I’ve seen you do. Please do not -”

“-You wanna try it, Mr. Stark?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Seems boring, but okay.”

“If I were boring,” says Tony, “I wouldn’t be chaperoning you to this R rated film.”

Peter rolls his eyes. “Like I don’t have a fake ID.”

“Excuse me what?”

“I said good,” says Peter. “Because I don’t have a fake ID, so thank you.”

“Uh huh,” says Tony, just as the lights begin to dim and the previews start to plan, temporarily saving Peter from an interrogation Tony schedules for later.

Parenting is rough, and teenagers are like a different species of human altogether. He’s dreading Morgan’s teenage years, but at least he’s got Peter to prepare him for it, to give him a trial run.

The previews end, and something’s glitching out the kid.

He’s gripping the armrests tight. He’s grimacing, and for a few seconds, Tony’s convinced Peter is holding his breath. He’s just about to ask him if he’s alright when Peter stands, and bolts, fleeing the auditorium with that ugly purse strapped on his shoulder.

Tony pauses, waits a few seconds, before deciding he’d better follow him and make sure everything’s okay.

He finds Peter in the bathroom, with his knees on the floor and his head over the toilet, puking his guts out.

“Told you it was disgusting,” says Tony, as Peter pulls the metal bar and flushes the toilet.

“Shut up,” says Peter. His voice was so weak and miserable, Tony felt a stab of guilt.

“Feeling better?” he asks. He reaches out, and covers his forehead with his hand. “You feel a little warm.”

“I’m fine,” says Peter. “Let’s go back and watch the film.”

“Kid,” says Tony. “You’re clearly sick. We’ll go home, and you can rest, and we’ll come back when you’re better. It isn’t like we have to see this one tonight.”

“Maybe it is,” says Peter. He wobbles, and has to lean against the slimy, gross bathroom wall to steady himself. “This might be our last chance! There could be a pandemic that shuts down everything and threatens to topple the theater industry forever.”

“Pete that’s not going to happen, not even in our universe,” says Tony. “You watch too many science fiction films.” He pulls Peter away from the wall and leads him out of the bathroom. “Besides, we’ve got Bruce Banner. No pandemic would stand a chance, and it’s about time he start putting those seven PHDs to use.”

“Fine,” says Peter. “But we’re coming back to the theater as soon as I stop puking my guts out.”

“Deal.”

They spend the night in the bathroom.

Peter throws up so much Tony starts to worry, though there’s not much he can do except look on in pity and offer the occasional back rub of support.

After Peter finishes a brutal episode of puking, he flushes the toilet and wipes his face with a strip of toilet paper.

“I think I broke a rib that time,” he mutters.

“If you broke bones puking, that’d truly be a record, kid.”

“Might as well get something from this misery,” he tells him.

Peter looks at him with glossy eyes and a face pale with sickness and with sweat. He appears much younger right then, as if Tony’s peering into the past, and Peter’s pain hits him much harder in that moment.

Tony’s struck with this strange urge to make the whole world right just for him. He considers going backwards in time again, only this time just a few hours back, just to slap that damned cookie and cheese sauce from the kid’s hand.

“I’m sorry you got so sick, bud.”

“That’s okay,” says Peter. “I think I’m done puking… at least I hope. Just wanna lay down.”

“How about this,” says Tony. “We’ll get you in your bed, all nice and cozy, and I’ll bring you some Gatorade and some crackers, annnddd a trash can. Just in case.”

“Sounds good,” says Peter, and he tries to smile, but it gets twisted into a grimace.

Tony helps Peter to his bed, and tucks him in. He brings him the things he thinks will make him feel better, but somehow, it doesn’t seem like enough, and Tony’s still pondering a way to make things right for him, even after the boy’s eyes close and he drifts off to sleep.

Finally, he thinks of something that still isn’t enough, but will at least put a proper smile on the kid’s face.

Tony finishes setting up the screen along the wall opposite of the bed just as Peter nods awake. He sits up slowly, and rubs his eyes.

“Mr. Stark,” he says. “What’s that?”

“The theater,” says Tony. “I’ve brought it to your bedroom.”

Peter laughs. “You’re such a softie.”

“Shut your mouth or I won’t tell you the best part.”

It’s the first time in Peter’s life he manages to be quiet. Tony switches on the projector, and the opening credits play for the movie they had been trying to watch before the Cheese Cookie Illness had taken control of their evening.

“No way!!” says Peter.

“I know it isn’t the same -”

“-are you kidding?” asks Peter, his face lit with a grin. “This is so awesome!”

Tony’s chest flutters with something like pride. It’s a good, warming feeling, to see the strange gremlin Peter return, and maybe the best part, Tony doesn’t even need a time machine to achieve it.

#febuwhumpday16 #irondad #irondad fic #my fic #vomiting #sickfic #tw: indirect nod to covid19 pandemic #it's just one line #just trying to be safe tho

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writingsbychlo · 4 years ago

Text

starry night | chris beck

word count; 9241

summary; chris beck delivers flowers to you five times.

notes; this was originally called ‘candy cane lane’, but I changed it up a little.

warnings; none!

When Chris had started working in a flower shop, it was to pay his way through college. He was getting a degree in medicine and it wasn't cheap, and he needed a simple and easy way to make cash that wouldn't take too much out of him. He wasn’t big on anything social, and so working in a bar or restaurant didn’t seem like the best fit, and unfortunately for him, all the library jobs had been snapped up at the beginning of the year. Supermarkets were a no go, he hated the people that came through and how rude some of them could be, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to get a job in a coffee shop.

Working those machines might as well be rocket science.

The little flower store on the end of his campus road had been hiring, and eventually, he’d become desperate. It wasn’t his usual gig, he wasn’t sure how he felt about it, to begin with, but it offered decent money, reasonably flexible hours, and the boss actually let him study on shift when it was quiet, and so it actually gave him more free time than he had before getting a job.

Then, he’d started to warm up to it. It was always cool in the summer and warmer in the winter, keeping it temperate for the plants, and it always smelt good. He made friends with a man named Mark who came in every so often to buy new plants to study, he was becoming a botanist, and they bonded over the serene quietness of flower shops for studying and bad jokes.

Little old ladies pinched his cheeks, the tips were good, and it helped him clear his thoughts to be able to do menial tasks like spray the flowers with water every other hour to keep them wet enough, and to sit behind the cash registers. It was a simple Christmas present from said botanist friend that really inspired his passion, though. More of a gag gift, he was sure that was its intention, but he’d started to take it seriously. Chapter after chapter on the meanings of flowers, how to send hidden messages through plants, and something about the way of communicating in ways other than words had spoken to him.

After that, he’d been able to offer a service of sending messages through flowers. He’d become a more popular salesperson, and he’s shifts had increased, and he loved doing it. He loved the physical way that a message could be conveyed, beautiful explosions of colour to mean ‘I love you’ or ‘Happy Anniversary’, and so he’d started to invest his time in that. Nobody had been all that surprised when the older man who ran the shop had left it to him when he passed, not even Chris himself, and so he’d finished up his degree and started working at the flower shop full time.

Mark had taken on a part-time job there, as well as his internship in a clinical research lab, and they’d hired an extra hand at the register. It made him happy.

Less so, when he had an influx of orders overnight, and instead had to focus on building bouquets to be shipped instead of the garden expansion he was making, but happy nonetheless.

He was twenty-seven custom orders in, Mark already out running the standard bouquets for delivery, and he was stacking them by the garage door, wrapped in ribs and pretty vase-boxes, all ready to go. Licking the tip of his finger to flick the paper over, he let out a sigh, two sets of flowers on one page, his rows raising. It wasn’t unusual for there to be multiple sets on one order form, but as his eyes scanned over the list of preferences, scents and colours, as well as the messages they were wishing to convey, one of his brows rose up.

One request for the pretty set of pink roses and lilies that he’d loving crafted himself, a collection of flowers that signified an apology, and he was always happy to offer advice to any guys who came into the store to buy that set. It was usually a guy fresh to a relationship, messed something up by refusing to unfollow another girl on Instagram, or just saying the wrong thing in front of his friends, introducing a girl as his friend, that one always made him giggle. The second was curious, though, and it made his lips quirk up in a slight smirk at the insinuation of it. Red roses and tulips, a darker and more seductive bunch; new beginnings and early love, and he was willing to place his last dollar on it being an affair.

It felt even more sure when he noticed that the delivery address was that of an office block, and not a home address, a man’s name instead of a woman’s. In the personal notes section, there were no names, and so that was an option ruled out for getting to the bottom of the situation, but he wrote out gift cards, one with swirling writing for a heartfelt apology and the other with a sickly-sweet pick-up line and what he assumed to be an inside joke.

Curled ribbons and plastic wrapping, and the two bouquet were standing side by side for delivery, the van chugging as it was pulled back into the driveway, reversed up, and his blond-haired friend rounding the vehicle, looking utterly worn out, and it was only halfway through the day.

“You’d think it was Valentine’s Day, or something. This is crazy, it’s November!”

He took off his cap, running a hand over his hair and scratching lightly at his scalp, before placing the embroidered garment with the company logo back onto his head. “I’ve got something that’ll cheer you up!”

“Oh, yeah? Is it the rest of the day off?”

“Uh, no.” He deadpanned, his friend laughing as he came to stand by him, and he motioned towards the collection. “However, it is a rather exciting combination. These two-” He tapped at the boxes holding them firm at the base. “-are going to the same place.”

“And that is exciting why, exactly?”

“Because one is supposed to symbolise asking for forgiveness and all that, and the other symbolises new love and beginnings and all that. They’re being delivered to an office block, not a home address.” It took Mark a minute to process it, and Chris watched the gears turn in his friend’s head, before his jaw was dropping, and he let out a disbelieving laugh.

“Oh, and you think it’s a.. y’know.” He only nodded, and he began to load up the other orders into the van, a printout sheet of new addresses and order numbers on the tags, the delivery sheets loaded onto a clipboard to be signed for at each location. The empty van was once again teeming with bright flowers and artfully arranged bundles. Securing them all down and making sure they wouldn't tip over or get crushed during the ride there, he was confident they were ready to go, almost all of them set up, before he was staring at the two he’d recently made once again, his curiosity getting the better of him. “You want me to try and find out while I’m there?”

He almost agreed, it would have been so easy, a simple way to put his questions to rest, but he was invested in it now, and so he already knew what was coming. “No, I’ll deliver these ones myself.

Mark only nodded, slamming and locking the back of the van doors, double-checking the hatches for fresh air were open to stop them from wilting in transit, and then he was back up into the main cabin. The loud sounds of disco music exploding from the van radio as he started it back up, reversing from the driveway and setting off on his next round of deliveries.

Scooping up the first set in his arms, Chris patted down his pockets in search for his keys, finding them in his left side back pocket, unlocking his car with a click of a button, and setting the first batch on the passenger seat. The second soon followed, and he used the seatbelt to secure them in place, rolling the windows down as he set off, programming the address into his SatNav.

It was a short drive, twenty minutes maximum, even with traffic, the tall and shining office building one that he was vaguely familiar with towards the inside of the city, harsh rays of winter sun reflecting off of clean glass windows, all the way up to the top floor, and it was so tall that as he stared at it, he swore the building was swaying. With a bouquet in each arm and the clipboard tucked under one, he backed his way through the polished glass doors, a company insignia printed onto the glass, and he almost wanted to check his shoes for traces of at the appearance of the clean white lobby.

Large tiles of marble flooring, specks of grey flickering throughout them, and white leather couches along some of the walls on one side of the lobby, a waiting room. The other had various coffee and tea machines, recyclable cups and sugar packets, as well as a range of fruits and muffins, and he wanted to scoff a little at the ostentatious nature of it all. The desk was empty as he finally approached, though he could hear chatter in the background, behind reflective glass panels that he couldn’t see through, one-way glass he assumed, and as he balanced the bouquets up on the counter, an older woman, approaching her fifties he presumed, came out, a wide smile on her face as she brushed down the material of her skirt.

“My, my, aren’t those beautiful? Unfortunately, I don’t think they’re for me.”

“Well, ma’am, unless you’re a ‘Mr Robert McKinley’, I’d have to agree.” She chuckled, nodding her head as she looked at them before picking up the phone, and typing in an extension. Lifting it to her ear, she balanced it there against her shoulder, smiling at him once again.

“I’ll just have his assistant come down to collect them and sign for them for you, lovely.” He nodded his head, turning away to be polite as she chatted away on the phone for only a moment, confirming that there was a package to be sorted out, and he twisted back to look at her as she put the phone down. Manicured nails tapped at the desk for only as second, an awkward silence forming, and one of the elevators let out a small ‘dinging’ sound as it was clicked into use, the numbers on the screen above the floor counting down, coming all the way from the twenty-eighth floor. “Would you like a candy?”

He jumped a little, turning back to look at the woman who had now sat down a little distance from him, behind the computer at the desk, and she turned to him, raising up a bowl of neatly wrapped candies, and placing it up on the glass counter for him to reach. He didn’t, but she was staring at him expectantly, and so he plucked the first one from the bowl, offering her a simple nod of his head, and tucking it into the pocket on his shirt.

When a chime sounded throughout the lobby, the sound echoing off of every hard surface, Chris’ attention was drawn to the clicking of heels on the smooth stone flooring. A pretty blouse that looked like it cost more than his entire outfit and a fitted pencil skirt that was sitting just below your knees, your were a professional vision. Except, your hair was a little messy, and there was a wide grin on your face as you typed rapidly on your phone, not even needing to look up to do the walk, but your expression made you look much more approachable than the usual businesswoman.

You clicked off your phone only a few feet away from him, looking up as your gaze went straight to the flowers at his side instead of him, but it gave Chris the chance to take you in just for a moment, and fully observe you, Up close, you were even prettier, soft skin and pretty hair that shined under the lights, and whatever the shade of lipstick was that you were wearing was perfect, because it suited you like it had been made for you.

You reached out, straight past him for a second, and the receptionist gasped, reaching for the bowl of candy, but you were quicker, your hand scooping up a little collection of the sweets and pulling them back, a sound of victory sounding from you, and she mumbled under her breath playfully, rolling her eyes and threatening to start hiding the treats before she ran out, but you only chuckled, unwrapping one and placing it against your tongue, lips brushing your fingers as you turned to him, and he forced his eyes away from your mouth, a blush on his cheeks.

“Oh, wow. Check these out.” You turned to the receptionist, motioning to them, and she only nodded her head, the sounds of a printer firing up in the back room, and she disappeared to collect the sheets, leaving the pair of you alone. “For Mr McKinley?”

You leaned over the counter, snatching up a pen from the other side, and he only nodded, producing the collection sheet, and pointing out the spot that needed singing, the scraping of the pen on paper filling the silence as you signed in both boxes, handing it back to him and tucking the pen behind your ear. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Fire away.” You grinned, unwrapping another candy, leaving the wrapper on the glass alongside the other one, a cheeky move he was sure you’d get reprimanded for by the receptionist who kept a beautifully organised and clean desk and foyer.

“There are two bouquets here, both with flowers that have very different meanings. Can I ask why?”

You hummed, staring at him for a minute as you chewed slowly, before swallowing the sweet in your mouth and smirking slightly. “I’ll answer your question, but only if you answer mine first; what do the flowers mean?”

Chris grinned, unable to hold it in, because he loved getting to talk about his passions, especially when he could show off a little in front of a pretty lady, and he nodded his head. “Pink roses and lilies are an apology, but red roses with tulips are for new love.”

“And do you have any theories?”

“Just the one, but I’m waiting for it to be confirmed.” He chuckled a little at the devious look that flashed over your features as you pulled the red roses bundle toward you, nose pressed into them for a second as you inhaled deeply, a little sigh leaving you afterwards.

“I’m trusting you here, but you’re cute, so I’ll tell you.” Heat rushed to his cheeks, head ducking for just a second, before he was looking back up to catch your gaze, brows raised as he waited excitedly, leaning in to meet you as though a scandalous secret was about to be told, and he supposed that’s exactly what it was. “There’s another receptionist, and intern back in there, fresh out of college, just a year below me, and he’s definitely fucking her.” You tapped a finger against the red roses, before your gaze was flicking to the second bunch, still by his arm as he leaned on the counter. “However, a couple of days ago he had a lunch date scheduled with his wife, and he missed it. I couldn’t find him anywhere, and I couldn’t find the intern either. Not hard to connect the dots.”

“Oh, so he’s covering both of his bases?”

“For sure.” You grinned, backing up a little bit to grab the second bundle, and adjusting them in your arms for balance. “Angie had probably realised too, and dashed in there to tell the girl that she’s got flowers coming.”

You were making your way over to the elevators, and he followed after you, pressing the button to summon the lift, and it hummed to life behind closed metal doors. “You know, since we just became partners in crime, maybe I should get to know your name?”

“Well, that was smooth.” You laughed, the doors opening up, and you stepped inside, placing one bouquet on the floor at your feet and holding onto the other. You caved, giving him your name as he placed his hand over the door to stop them from closing, ad he repeated the name to you, testing it on his tongue as he learnt it. He gave you his own in return when he asked, and when you said it back, his smile widened, already liking the way his name sounded coming for you.

You typed a code into the pad on the wall of the elevator, the screen flashing green as your programming was accepted, and he stepped back, grinning as you waved your fingers at him, the doors closing as you disappeared from view. He snatched up his clipboard on the way out, unable to contain the smile on his face.

Chris Beck hated making deliveries, but this one hadn't been so bad.

There was a genuine smile on his face as he stepped through the glass doors of the lobby, smaller and simpler bouquets this time, both matching and nothing special, but he’d tasked himself with delivering them personally because he’d recognised the name and address immediately, his encounter with the cute assistant he’d met only two weeks prior flashing through his mind as he’d insisted on delivering this order himself, Mark smirking and helping him gather the flowers as soon as he’d spilled all about you.

Now, he had two sets of pretty pink flowers in different shades, and a single red rose in a sleek plastic wrapping, all wraith ribbons wrapped around them were bundled in one arm, the other holding onto his clipboard, and the desk was once again empty as he approached. A bell, sleek and shining silver, and it was a new addition, definitely not present last time, and he eyes it suspiciously for a moment, before pressing a finger against the top lightly, just twice, a little ringing sounding out around the lobby.

A head of curly hair popped out from around the glass, much younger than the previous assistant, and wearing a much tighter skirt, and she grinned widely as she stepped forwards. He couldn’t deny that she was beautiful, fiery red hair and a wide smile, lips painted with red lipstick, and she seemed sweet, but far too intimidating for him to ever consider. Her heels were so tall that he wondered how she even walked in them, long and thin points creating the stilettos.

“Flowers?”

There was an eager tone to her voice, and he put the pieces of the puzzle together, assuming this to be the intern, his eyes flicking down to her name badge for a second, reading it as ‘Clara’. “For Mr McKinley. Is his assistant free tom come and sign for them?”

The woman paused, rolling her lips a little and nodding her head, a coy look on her features before sitting down in the chair and spinning in it to face the phone, lifting it up to her ear and dialling a short connection number. He didn’t seem to need to wait long, before she was summoning you, a ‘flower delivery’ to be claimed, and she was far too excited, only confirming his doubts that this was definitely the mistress. “She’ll be right down.”

“Fantastic.” He wasn’t sure she even processed his words, before her eyes were closing in on the flowers, and he ignored it, turning back to look at the elevator, waiting for the number on the twenty-eighth floor to light up, a number flashing over the screen. It paused on its descent this time, stopping at the eighteenth floor, and then again at the twelfth, and he assumed that somebody else had joined the journey for a short while.

When the doors finally opened, you weren’t built typing away this time, a grin on your face as your eyes swept over the entrance for him, and he waved his fingers again, straightening up from the desk.

“It’s my partner in crime, back again.”

“Missed you too much, just had to return.”

“Of course, you did, because I’m awesome.” You came to a stop before him, peering up at him through bright eyes, and he swallowed thickly, a little nervous but very excited, and he tried to remember any of what Mark had taught him, his friend being far better with the women than he was, and everything from the last-minute crash course he’d been given upon leaving the shop forty-five minutes ago seemed to have gone blank. “So, what really brings you here today?”

You gasped a little as he shifted to show you the collection, sliding the clipboard closer, and you were presented with a pen from him, floral patterning woven along the body, your thumb clicking it on to sign for them. When you passed it back, you shared a look with him, both of your glances flicking over to the intern who was still admiring the flowers, completely oblivious.

“Hey, Clara?” Her head snapped up, pale skin heating with colour as she flushed, and he suppressed a chuckle. “Mr McKinley is in meetings all afternoon, but he’ll want to approve these flowers. Can you put them in water, and I’ll call to have them sent up when he’s ready?”

She only nodded, more than happy to take a gift that she knew one of was for her into the back, hands reaching over to gather them all up. He almost missed it, watching as all of the flowers were taken, too busy watching the way you rolled your eyes at her when she looked away, fond but still a little cool, and he bit at the inside of his cheek to contain his amusement. It was just as she was leaving that his mind cleared, and he cleared his throat.

“Wait, wait, hold on!” She turned back, brows raised, and he reached over, letting her take a step forwards so that he could reach, plucking the single rose from where it was laying over the top of the two. “This, uh, this is actually for you.”

He presented it to you, your eyes widening a little, and you looked between him and the flower several times. His heart was in his throat, worry you were going to reject it, before you were giving him a different smile than he had seen yet, something softer and more endearing, and you plucked it from his hands, bringing it to your nose. “You’re just a big flirt, huh, Chris?” Your eyes fluttered for a moment, before you were looking back up to him through your lashes. “Thank you.”

“It’s no problem, honestly. I own the shop, the least I can do is give my partner in crime a pretty flower.”

You scoffed, but it was out of friendship and playfulness, not judgement or rejection, and silence fell between you both once again. The plastic in your hands wrinkled as you twirled it, wrapping the curled ribbon around your finger for a second, and letting it jump back into place when you let it go. “You busy? Got a packed store to run back to?”

Your question caught him off-guard, and he struggled to find words for a second, before clearing his throat and shaking his head. “No, uh, no. Clear day, actually. This was the last order.”

“So, you’re free for an hour or so?” Chris nodded his head, licking at his lips as he became a little nervous once again. “Well, why don’t I give you a tour? We’ve got some pretty cool stuff here, and I’ll fix you up with a drink from the coffee bar before you go.”

“This building has a coffee bar?”

“You bet it does.” You teased, turning on your heel as you took his question as acceptance, and he scooped up the clipboard, following after you as you made your way to the elevator, and this time when it opened, he stepped inside with you. As soon as the keypad lit up, prompting you to enter your four-digit authorisation code and make a floor selection, and you paused, finger hovering over the electronic selections. “What do you wanna’ see first, then?”

“You got an office?”

“I sure do.” You grinned, tapping for the twenty-eighth floor, and the machinery soon hummed into life, gears jerking smoothly into motion and soft music playing over the speakers in the background.

The ride was quiet, and he twisted his head as though the walls were interesting, just to take them in and hide the expression on his face as he watched you twirl the rose he’d given you between your fingers. There was a tag, one that he hadn't yet seen you read, and while all it contained was his number and a sign of his name, he was still a little nervous for your reaction to it, so he was glad to watch you place it onto your desk to be returned to later as you showed him around.

The building truly was impressive, large floor to ceiling glass windows on one wall of your office, staring out at the city below and giving a view so stunning and far that he could see all the way out to where the concrete faded away into greenery along the horizon, and he was a little taken aback by it all. Dipping the rose into a mug of water from the office kitchen, you promised to transfer it to a vase when you got home that evening, and you showed him all around.

Up and down on the elevator, proudly showing him every aspect of your workplace, and somewhere between the in-house gym and the coffee bar you’d boasted of in the staff food courts, you’d made him promise a tour of the flower shop sometime.

Way over an hour had passed in total, and he would’ve been more than happy to let that go on and on, for the rest of the day until the sun was setting, just to sit on the stools at the high tables at the coffee bar, getting refills on his coffee as he watched you drink herbals teas and chat about everything you got up to in the day, but your boss was paging you again to ask where you were, and he had his own job to return to at some point. You seemed hesitant at first, but had eventually divulged him with a guest security code for the elevator, logging him under your name, so that in future, he would be able to bring the flowers straight upstairs to you, and come and see you whenever he stopped by.

With a to-go cup in hand that had your number written on the cardboard holder, you’d escorted him all the way back to the lobby, pressing a friendly kiss to his cheek as he stepped between the doors, waving a little with what he knew was a goofy smile, waiting until he could no longer see you as the metal doors slid shut to reflect his image back at him, before he was bidding the two women at the reception desk a goodbye, and pretending not to know that they were eavesdropping, because he was floating far too high to care right now.

Chris hadn't been surprised at all when the next batch of flowers had come through, because you’d told him days prior that he could be expecting another batch of apology flowers to come through. Your work had been busy lately, you’d told him so yourself the few weeks that had slid past since you’d exchanged numbers had been filled with an abundance of texts.

Sharing texts had rapidly become phone calls in downtime, exchanging social media and sending one another dumb jokes and funny pictures throughout your workdays. He knew that your job had been getting harder lately, the run down to Christmas making everything a little more difficult, and that you’d been swept off of your feet because your boss had been, too. Eight-hour shifts had become twelve, day through to night, never seeing the light of a winter day unless it was through the windows of your office as you worked, and he had a sympathetic guilt twisting in his gut.

Two bouquets to make up for the lack of time that your boss had been able to spare for either of the women in his life and you’d looked positively exhausted as you came out of your office to greet him at the top of the elevator. You had a frown on your face that barely lifted into a smile as you saw him, even though he knew you were happy to catch sight of him. The usual shade of lipstick that projected boldness and power was gone, your face free of makeup entirely, and styled hair now just pulled up into a bun.

He wondered how long it had been since you’d had a full night’s sleep.

“Hey, sweetheart. How’re you feeling?” You only shook your head, sniffling a little as you suppressed a yawn, before taking one of the bouquets from his arms, and inspecting it carefully.

“These are beautiful.”

“I put a little extra ribbon on them, just for you.” He winked, and that had earned him a little chuckle, glancing at him over your shoulder as he followed you through to your office, and placing them down on the cabinet near the doorway to be distributed when your boss had a free second to look at them. Chris felt his own eyes widen in shock as he looked around, the stacks of paperwork littered around the surfaces were astonishing, and there was other mess scattered among that.

Stationary littered the desk, clearly trying to get everything sorted, and almost every draw in the room was half-open, your heels kicked off by the edge of the desk and there was a clear spot against one of the walls where you’d been sitting, a patch clear with papers spread out around you, wording and statements on them that made his head spin as he looked at them. Business definitely wasn’t his forte.

You rubbed a hand over your forehead, cursing a little as you tried to find a pen that wasn't a highlighter, and he didn’t miss the crack in your voice as you scoured the paper stacks. Leaning down to pick one up from the dropped pen pot on the floor, and offering it to you. A little sigh passed your lips, before you were taking it from him, clicking it into action and signing your name on both of the forms to confirm the delivery, a simple ritual of habit by this stage, as he knew that even if you didn’t he wasn’t risking any legal action from you.

You rubbed a hand over your forehead afterwards, rolling your shoulders and shaking yourself down as you tried to hit that reset button on your mood, but it wasn't working, it didn’t take a genius to see it, and so he reached out, placing a comforting squeeze to your forearm, fingers slipping a little lower to latch onto your wrist loosely.

“Okay, you’re a little overwhelmed in here, huh?” You let out a weak laugh, glancing around yourself and nodding. “It’s time for a break. Take your lunch break now, we’re getting out of here.”

“I can’t leave, I have too much to do. I’ll just get something from the food courts, a sandwich, maybe.” You slumped down into your desk chairs, the wheels on it carrying you backwards slightly, and he placed his hands on his hips, shaking his head at you.

“You have to go. It’s doctor’s orders.”

“Which doctor?” You scoffed, rolling your eyes at him, and he gasped a little, hands finding your own and pulling you to your feet, despite the whine that you let out.

“This doctor. I went to medical school, I get to give the orders. You, my dear, need one hour of rest and relaxation from your workplace, stat.” You started up at him for a second, seeming to weigh it out in your mind, but he wasn’t backing down, and he swore he saw that realisation click within your eyes, because you caved.

Slipping your heels on and grabbing your jacket from the back of the door, you logged your timeout of the building in the lobby with Angie, who cooed at you a little as she watched you go, a pitiful look on her face as she knew just how hard you were working too, before his hand was settling on your lower back.

A ten-minute walk, finding a table in a small pizzeria on the corner of a street, one that he’d been dying to try for months now, and a quick order, and you were slumping down tiredly against the table. The workload always increased at Christmas, sales shot through the roof, all the expansions of your company were filing for Christmas bonuses, parties, annual reports and then, of course, there were the usual rises and falls in statistics over the year that needed to be dealt with.

It was chaotic, to say the least.

Over a hot and freshly baked pizza, your selection of toppings, and a soda that made you wrinkle your nose from the fizziness within, you looked like there was a little more life within you when you’d been leaving.

You spilled it all to him, telling him every struggle you’d been facing, and while he didn't understand half of what you were saying, he was more than happy to just to listen. He couldn't offer much advice, or anything of the sort that might be helpful, but it seemed that just being able to talk to someone had made the day a little brighter.

The chill in the air and the biting winds had made you wrap your coat around yourself even tighter on the walk back to your work, but there was more of a pep in your step and a lighter tone to your voice, a little more chipper and slightly less drained as you began to make your way back across the carpark. His arm was sitting around your waist, keeping you pulled up to his side against the cold of the winter. Instead of guiding you over to the door, though, his first stop was his car, ensuring that you couldn't see what he had placed on the passenger seat until he was ready for you to see it.

Leaning yo back against the cold metal, he unlocked the car, making you promise to cover your eyes, and while making a few jokes about how you were sure this was how friendly guys would kidnap a girl, you did as he’d asked. You gasped a little at the rustling of fabric in the wind and under his hands, seeming to guess what it was before ever seeing the gift, because a wide smile spread over your features.

“Is that what I think it is?”

“Depends, what do you think it is?” He teased, making you wait a little longer, and you dragged your lower lip through your teeth, a hopefully look spreading over what half of your face he could actually see.

“Flowers, maybe?”

“Then you would be correct!” Your hand fell away from your eyes, taking a second to blink back into adjustment of the rays the winter sun gave off, before you were brightening up even further at the bundle he was holding in his hands.

Soft petals in different shades of yellow, some duller and some standing out to shine like the sun, but it was a stunning bunch all over, and he’d been sure to pick the freshest and best-looking plants from each pot as he built the bouquet especially for you before leaving for his delivery. He let you stare at them for a second, running a finger over some of the petals, sniffling the collection carefully, and admiring each individual plant, before finally looking back up to him, a brow raising as you waited for an explanation on the plants.

“I just thought yellow was a bright colour. Nothing particularly special about these ones, I wanted to cheer you up.”

He scratched nervously at the back of his neck, and you hummed happily, bringing them up to admire once again, before letting out a happy little sound from the back of your throat, one that made his cheeks flush with embarrassed warmth, bringing a pink tinge to the pale skin. “Don’t yellow roses mean friendship?”

His stomach dropped a little, but he swallowed thickly, and nodded. He was impressed that you knew that, a random fact to know, but he almost felt like he was being friend-zoned by the statement, even though he was the one who’d given you the flowers. It was only a few days ago that he’d realised he might have feelings that weren’t going away any time soon, the original fascination and infatuation was becoming something a little deeper, he often found himself thinking of you when he was at work and filling or orders, or at home cooking, or even letting his morning coffee. You seemed to be on his mind a lot nowadays, and he was beginning to regret the yellow rose choice, worried he’d sent the wrong message. How ironic.

“Well, I’m really glad you consider us friends, Chris. I think you’re great, and I hope we’re friends for a long time.”

He tried to contain his disappointment, nodding his head as he stuffed his hands into his pockets. Walking you up to the front door, both of the receptionists made a point of fawning dramatically over the flowers in your arms as you signed back in, exactly an hour later and perfectly on time for the end of your lunch break, but with a lot more joy and a rejuvenation for the work you were doing, enough to carry you through the rest of your day.

Standing at the elevator and waiting for it to arrive, his cheeks were warm enough as it was, the attention you were getting front he not-so-discreet spying of the receptionists making him even more nervous, but if Angie and Clara were watching then that's their choice, because he didn’t have much left to lose, now.

Cupping your cheeks in his hands, he made sure that you were looking at him, a soft and shy smile on your lips as he thumbs smoothed over your skin, trying to reassure you without using words. “Chin up, sweetheart. You’re gonna’ be just fine, okay?”

“Okay, Chris.” You nodded your head, words whispered as you agreed with him, and when he pulled you a little closer, you tipped your head to meet him, his lips pressing to your forehead in a tender kiss, his heart leaping in his chest as you did. The elevator dinged, and he snapped away from you, both of you lingering for a moment longer, something unspoken laying between you, but it was broken as a colleague stepped out of the box, excusing himself as he squeezed past you, and the moment was over.

Waving goodbye, he wiggled his fingers in response to you, and he took a moment to himself to steady his racing heart once the doors had closed with you inside. He bid his farewell to the two women ogling him with wide eyes from behind the desk, trying not to let his nervousness show, to be confident like Mark had taught him to be, and it lasted all the way to the car, before he broke it with a ragged sigh and a little cheer to himself, immediately dialling his best friend on the car’s phone as he pulled out of the parking lot.

It was the kind eyes of Angie that met him as he stepped into the building, palms sweating a little and a shake to his breath, and the flowers in his arms were practically vibrating with nerves as he approached the front desk. Placing them down on the glass surface, she admired them quietly, taking a look at them all before he was being offered the candy dish that she usually had hidden, and he took a peppermint gratefully, red and green swirls along it through the clear wrapping, the festive theme of the late December days was shining through.

“Only the one bouquet this time?”

“They, uh, they aren’t for Mr McKinley.” He mumbled, unwrapping the hard sweet and shoving it wrapped into his pocket, placing the treat on his tongue and sucking on it lightly for something to do, sweetened mint flavours exploding over his senses.

“Oh, so these are a pretty bouquet for our lovely (Y/N), then?”

He could only nod, wondering absently whether or not sweat was beginning to physically show through his shirt, and just how fast his heart was going, because he felt like he was about to pass out. “I think she’s in a meeting right now, but I can get them sent up for her, if that works for you, my dear?”

“Can I just go and drop them off in her office? It’ll make a nice surprise for her to come back to.”

She considered it for a moment, mulling over the security risk and all other options, and he was ready to give up, before she eventually agreed. “Alright, but only if you tell me about the flowers. She’s been telling me all about the pretty bouquet you make with meanings, even showed me your website.”

“She did? She does?”

Pride flushed through his system at that knowledge, and Angie seemed to pick up on it, her face cracking in an even wider smile. “Yes, and they were all beautiful, but I don’t remember this set on there.”

“It’s new, I made it. It’s a personal one, I suppose.”

“It got a name, yet?” He mulled it over, staring down at the pretty bunch in his hands. Dark shades of blue and black, splashes of purple that were speckled with white, and he decided it resembled the night sky rather nicely.

“What do you think of ‘Starry Night’?”

“Very fitting.” She confirmed, and his heart managed to slow a little in his chest as at least one thing on his to-do list became sorted. “So, blue roses, but what are the rest?”

“They would be black pansies and gypsophila.” She hummed, continuing to fix him with that curious gaze, and he knew that wasn't going to cut it. “The blue roses are for mystery, and gaining the impossible. I dye them myself. Black pansies mean broken love, which, I guess isn’t totally suitable here, but combined with the gypsophila, it’s more like the chance of a new beginning, and not necessarily unrequited feelings.”

“You really like her, huh?”

“That obvious?” He grinned, knowing that his feelings may as well be lit up with a neon sign above his head. “You’ll get them to her after her meeting, then?”

“Of course, I will.” She took them over the desk, writing down a memo on her notepad so that she didn't forget, and he watched as the pretty bundle was carried away. “Did you leave a card, or do you want to write a note?”

“Just tell her to text me if she likes them?” She beamed, nodding her head, and he backed away, turning on his heel, a little disappointed that he didn’t get to give them to you himself, but simultaneously relieved at the fact, because he could feel his pulse racing right to the tips of his fingers with how intense it was.

You’d clearly had a busy day, because it wasn’t until Chris was shutting up shop that he finally felt his phone buzz, doing his last check over of all the systems and machines, when a text from you came in, diverting every ounce of attention that he had.

[stardust 🌌 ✨] so, do these flowers have a hidden meaning, or did you just put them together because they look good?

He grinned at his phone, shaking his head slightly as a laugh left his lips, and he leaned on the wall, fingers hovering over the keyboard as he thought out his response.

> a little bit of both.

It was a few minutes before you replied, this time, a photograph coming through, of you carrying your flower out of the building, setting off towards the elevators from your office, if he was depicting the background correctly.

[stardust 🌌 ✨] gonna tell me what it is, or do I have to google it?

He paused, not quite having got that far, and the relief of not having to explain his feelings or you before had drowned out the fact that he’d have to tell you at some point, and his heart was leaping into his throat.

He gave himself a minute, checking over the locks and windows to make sure everything was sealed up, setting the thermostat and setting the alarm, not yet activating it, but making sure that everything was done, right down to holding his keys for the main door in his hands. Locking up the building, he sealed down the metal guard, triple checking the padlock, and making his way to the car.

Engine on, heaters up, his lights being the last to flood the parking lot as he tried to man up, before finally bringing back up the unopened message, taking the notifications and opening his texts.

> long story short, I’m trying to ask you out. using flowers, because words normally fail me in times of importance.

He let out a slow breath, running a hand over his face and just hoping that it was acceptable, his phone buzzing before he’d even managed to start up the car property for his journey home. His hand hovered over where it was laying on the passenger seat, considering whether or not to pick it up, before forcing down his nerves and reaching for it.

[stardust 🌌 ✨] friday night work for you?

He stared at the message for a few seconds, confirming that they were real, and he wasn’t just making it up because it’s what he wanted to read, before letting out a loud and victorious set of cheers for only him to ever know about.

> I’ll pick you up from your work at 5.

Chris was sitting in one of the white leather chairs that had been scattered around the lobby, shifting slightly awkwardly, nerves getting the best of him. He knew you wouldn't stand him up, but as the clock ticked over past 5:10 PM, he worried a little that you were trying to find a way to let him down, having decided that you’d changed your mind on wanting to go out with him, and he tried to steady his nerves.

Brushing over the flowers in his hands, he adjusted his grip on them a little, not wanting the plastic to become damp with his sweaty palms, and swallowing thickly again. Finally, the elevator doors chimed, and he let out a nervous sigh, taking a deep breath and sliding his eyes shut as he calmed himself down, certain that his heart no longer had a rhythm and was just beating erratically and rapidly like the seismograph in a disaster movie.

Twisting his head a little, he let out a deep breath, watching as you came toward him, looking far more casual than he had ever seen you ever had before. Jeans and jumper, a striped scarf that looked suspiciously handmade in the sweetest of ways, and sneakers on your feet instead of heels, dropping your height down by a few inches, and he was so used to looking straight at you, never needing to look down, that it caught him a little by surprise.

“I’m sorry I’m late!” You looked a little flushed, sounded slightly out of breath, and he realised you must’ve been rushing, not stalling, and he felt a little calmer at that thought. Placing down the flowers on the chairs, he stood up properly, letting out a slow breath.

“Don’t worry about it. You look beautiful.”

“I thought I’d change, heels and pencil skirts are great for work, but not so comfy for a first date.” There was a bag on your arm, which he assumed your business-wear was stuffed in, and he gave himself a moment to take you in. He liked you better this way, you looked more like yourself, the version of you that he knew you to be from hours of late-night calls and texting, weeks of getting to know one another, both in-person and via messages, and the formal outfits he was so used to seeing you in were just a cover for the real you.

He realised he’d been staring too long, jumping slightly in his panic, before turning away and grabbing the bundle that he’d brought with him. “I brought you flowers. Not as special as normal guys, since I own the flower shop and it's not the first time, but I did create this bouquet design just for you.”

“I think it’s pretty special.” Your words were whispered, taking the bundle of flowers and bringing them into yourself to admire delicately, a combination of red and white roses, with green bells peppered throughout. “Okay, so, let me guess on this one.”

He only nodded his head, watching as you considered the bundle, licking over your lower lip and taking it hostage between your teeth as your thoughts whirled before his very eyes.

“White roses are innocence, right? Seems fitting for a first date. Red roses are romance, of course.” You smirked a little then, glancing up at him through your lashes, and he grinned, feeling totally at ease now that he was under your gaze. “What about the green ones?”

“Green bells. They’re for good luck.”

“Well, I don’t think you’ll need any luck, you’ve pretty much already got me wrapped around your little finger, Chris Beck.” You adjusted the flowers in your arms, taking his hand with your other one, and lacing your fingers together, and he squeezed back in security as heat flooded over his face in a warm blush. “However, I do think it’s sweet, so I’ll accept it.”

“I wanted to do something Christmassy for you, but I didn’t want to go with any of the typical ones. Holly, mistletoe, poinsettia, they didn’t feel unique enough.”

“I don’t know, I think mistletoe can be good.” You leaned in a little, his brows raising slightly as your wide smile dimmed down, the humour of the moment changing, and his free hand found your waist, fingers playing with yours on the other, and he pulled you a little closer, taking the hint that you were laying down.

“Maybe just this once.” He teased, nose bumping against your own, and he could still taste the sweet honey on your breath from the herbal teas you were always concocting, warm breath shared between you. As your head twisted to close the gap, he became acutely aware of the lingering feeling of not being alone, the both of you jumping and snapping apart a little when the loud crashing of a mug on the floor sounded out loudly.

Two sets of voices cursing followed it, Angie’s and Clara’s heads both ducking down behind the desk as they looked at the mess on the floor, and his jaw dropped as he released the two had been watching on eagerly this whole time, and he’d been so wrapped up in you that he hadn't realised there’d been an audience all along.

He would’ve been embarrassed, had it not been for the way your face pressed into his shoulder as you tried to contain your laughs, and he found the amusement in it too, his arm slipping around your waist as he matched your laugher, shaking his head as he watched the two women try and clear up the split coffee and smashed mug.

“Hey, ladies, I’ll see you Monday!”

The popped back up, sheepish looks on their faces as they nodded, and he gave them both a little wave, letting you tug him along by the hand that was still connected to your own, towards the open doorway of the building, a chill rolling in. As you stepped out, a chill took over, and his hand slipped from yours to sliding around your waist instead, pulling you closer to him, and you guided him over to where your car was parked, and he was more than happy to simply follow.

“So, what do you have planned?”

“I thought something a little more relaxed would be fun. How do you feel about a tree lighting ceremony, and some street food?” You curled into him a little more, a happy sigh leaving you.

“Sounds perfect to me.”

Unlocking the car, he let you go, long enough to put your back in the trunk and lay your flowers out on the front seat, locking it back up as you deemed yourself ready to go. “Ready to go?”

“Yes, but just one thing, first. Something I’ve been waiting weeks for.”

His brows raised, lips parting to ask you waist it was, but your hand latched onto the front of his shirt, tugging him forward as you leaned up, and he groaned a little, a soft sound but vibrating through him as your mouth closed over his, soft and warm, lips pressing together, and a shock ran along his entire body. His hand slipped to your waist, one cupping your cheek as he pulled you a little closer, pressing you back into the car as your bodies came flush up together, and he felt like his legs were going to give out underneath him as you sighed out against his mouth, a breathy moan carried with it.

Twisting his head to the side, he barely pulled back for breath before he was diving right back into you, more confident and passionate this time with his movements. He took control, feeling the way you sagged into his hands as he did, lips working with yours in an intimate dance of their own making, slow and teasing movements, before finally he was pulling away, just far enough to press his forehead to your own as the two of you panted lightly, trying to catch your breath.

“Worth the wait?” He mused, feeling your breathless giggle wash over his lips, before you were leaning up just enough to peck his lips once more, and his lips were still pouted, chasing after you as you backed away for a second, before he was licking over them and cracking his eyes open to look at the adoring expression on your face.

“Definitely worth the wait.”

#chris beck #chris beck x reader #chris beck/reader #chris beck the martian #sebastian stan chris beck #sebastian stan the martian #sebastian stan #Seb Stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan/reader #12 Days of AUmas

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