#a supportive embrace of a palm you get what am saying

[coolnonsenseworld]

Has anyone maybe counted which Klance floating lovingly mid air of mine is it? Sixth? Eight? But first one to become a standee though. I adore the idea of them gravitating toward each other, away from trouble, without any other context beyond love and bliss and I will be happy to draw 50 more versions of it.

Linktr.ee/mezzy

[orphicdreamers-wp]

When You Know You Know — Quinn Hughes

Summary; In which you, Quinn and your loved ones recount the early days of your relationship

Content Warning: wedding ceremony inaccuracies, fluff

You laughed into your palms as Jack took the microphone and grinned sheepishly, “Hey guys! I’m Jack, the cooler of Quinn’s brothers.” You turned to your husband, “How bad are we expecting this to turn out?” Quinn laughed, “Almost as bad as Trevor standing up after the minister said ‘speak now or forever hold your peace’ and saying ‘don’t nobody say nothing’.” Jack grinned as you turned to face you and his brother, “I have one text from a Quinn Hughes, dated December 9th 2018. Jack no joke, I just met my wife. She’s perfect.”

Jack turned to face your wedding guests, “It should be noted that the first two weeks of December that year there was a horrendous snow storm in Vancouver so I initially didn’t believe him. Until he FaceTimed me the next day trekking through the snow holding a bouquet of lavenders that was bigger than his head, which is ideally a huge thing of flowers. He told me he was going to meet a girl for dinner. He called me again the next day, this time he was demanding to speak to our mom to learn how to make pasta as he was having someone over for dinner.”

Jack’s story earned laughs from the guests. Jack smiled at you and Quinn as he continued, “This continued through the remainder of December and the majority of January. It was nearing a month he’d been needing dating advice. So he called me once again trekking through the snow, but that time he wasn’t alone.” Jack turned to face you with a smile, “I was complaining about whatever stupid crap a 17 year old boy would. And then I saw Quinn get pelted in the face with a snowball. Then I heard Y/N squeal as she and Quinn ran through the snow covered streets of Vancouver throwing snowballs at each other and giggling.”

You laughed softly as you melted into your husbands side into a warm embrace, “I quickly learned that Y/N was perfect for my brother which was unexpected because Y/N is classy, kind and beautiful and Quinn is not. But after meeting her I have never had to question or wonder if my brother made the right choice. Because from the moment I met her, Y/N has shown nothing but grace, love and support for not just Quinn but my entire family. I could not be more proud to say, welcome to the family sis.” Your eyes welled with tears as you stood to go hug Jack, “I always wanted a little brother to annoy.” Jack smiled as he hugged you, “I always wanted a sister.”

You returned to your seat next to your husband as your best friend, Gracie stood up with the microphone, “I hold here a hot pink notebook sheet of paper dated April 13th 2006, it reads ‘GG I have a secret. I have to tell someone so your my friend now that I told you. Mrs Tkachuck’s son is cute. He is always skating at recess. I think he has really nice hair, maybe my husband will too. Anyways I got peanut butter sandwiches for lunch what did you get?’ This was the first note I ever received.”

You covered your face with your hands as you heard your husband whisper, “Please tell me it wasn’t Brady.” You laughed as Gracie continued, “The boy in the note did have really nice hair. Matthew Tkachuck everyone. That note would be seen as two 7 year old girls agreeing that a 9 year old was cute and bonding over lunch. But for me that singular note written in real glitter pen by the 7 year old who had no friends because she didn’t let anyone say anything mean to her. You, Y/N changed my life at just 7 years old.”

Quinn squeezed your hand reassuringly as you blinked back soft tears as Gracie continued, “You wouldn’t know this, because I never told you. But on Friendsgiving in 2018, when I pulled the longer side of the wishbone. I wished for you to find someone who would alter your life the way you altered mine. And then 13 days later I got a voicemail from you at 3 am. You had claimed you found the love of your life and his name was win. I unanimously decided that his name probably wasn’t actually win but more likely Quinn.”

You felt your gaze soften as Quinn pressed a kiss to your temple as your best friend finished her speech, “To my beautiful, perfect, amazing and wonderful best friend. To the rest of your life with a guy who treks through the snow a day after meeting you. PS your husband did end up having good hair.” You and Quinn erupted into soft giggles as you looked at each other. You smiled up at Quinn, “I so would have written love notes to you in teal glitter pens.” Quinn laughed, “I would trek through a million snowstorms to bring you flowers.”

You melted into a kiss as your mother in law took the stage, “My biggest baby. In your entire life I have only seen you love three things. Your family, hockey and the beautiful woman that is sitting next to you. And none of those things are in order. From the moment I met Y/N it was clear to me that you loved her more than anything else in the world. It’s in the eyes. You, Quinn Hughes have very telling eyes. I could tell by your eyes when you pushed Jack face first down a slide when you were 5 and he was 3. I knew from the look in your eyes the first time you snuck out. And I knew when I saw your eyes light up when Y/N offered to take Jack and Luke to hockey practice so me and your father could have a break.”

Ellen continued as she smiled at you, “I knew that you were long gone, there was no coming back. You were head over heels for her and honestly I think I was a little bit as well. For as long as I remember you and your brothers never liked each others friends or associates. Don’t get me started on girlfriends. But Jack and Luke came home and would not shut up about how much they liked Y/N. I knew then that she was perfect for you and she fit like a missing puzzle piece of our family. So it didn’t come as a shock to me when you called me less than a year later asking me to help you pick out engagement rings.”

Your jaw dropped, you hadn’t known that Quinn had thought about marrying you so quickly. Ellen smiled at you and her eldest son, “To my beautiful son and his even more beautiful wife. Watching you two navigate life together has been one of the most gracious gifts I’ve ever received.” You smiled warmly at your mother in law as you rested your head on your husbands shoulder, “So I’m picking up on the fact that apparently everyone around us including us knew from the beginning of our relationship that we’d end up here. Is it just me?” Quinn kissed your cheek, “Nope, definitely not just you.”

[judeisbae]

Till' Death Do Us Part

In which: After a night full of celebration, love and alcohol, the newly weds Jude and Y/N finally get to experience one another in a brand new way. tags: Virgin!reader(religious), Virgin!Jude, soft!sex, semi experienced Jude, semi experienced reader. warnings: Praise!kink, mentions of alcohol, mentions of smoking, mentions of semen, cursing, unprotected sex (lmk if I missed anything)

enjoy ->

1:23 am, Ocho Rios, Jamaica

The loud, upbeat music flooded the venue, so loud that it was impossible to hear the voices of those around you, but you could hear Jude's words of affection oh so clearly. In the middle of the crowded dance floor, the two of you clung to each other as if it was the first time in years you had been in one another's embrace. With your head tucked at the base of his neck and his hands adorning your hip and lower back, the two of you stood, eyes closed fully experiencing each others affection. "I think we should head to our room love, have our first bit of alone time as a married couple y'know" you whispered in Jude's ear, tilting your head up and gently grazing your lips against the lobe of his ear. Jude, pulling back to make eye contact with you, gave a smile filled with content, nodding his head in agreement to your statement.

Hand in hand, the two of you stumbled through the crowd after having more than a few glasses of champagne during the reception, giving smiles and "thank you for coming"s to your guests. Walking away from your beachfront venue heading back up the steps toward the hotel, giggling like teenagers on your first date. Reaching your room door, the two of you smile at each other, making your way through the door. "Y/n" Jude called to you, bringing your attention to him, patting the area on the mattress next to where he was seated, motioning for you to sit next to him. Settling onto the bed next to Jude, taking his face into your palms you inch closer to him, eventually allowing your lips to melt against his. The kisses you two shared were always tender and gentle, but this was different, new. Both of you wrapping your arms around one another, sighed a breath of contentment into the kiss. Softly pulling back, Jude spoke in a gentle tone, "Y/n, I want to make you a promise, different from the one we made earlier. I want to promise you that I will forever prove to you, day after day, that what we have is the most important and dear thing I've ever experienced in my life, I promise to continue to show you how much I love you, in every way possible. The feelings you give me compare to nothing else. I owe you everything Y/n, thank you for always supporting me, and loving me everyday, through everything" . Tears brimming both your and his eyes as his sentence came to a close. "Jude you're like actually making me cry right now please", You sniffed with a laugh, "But in all seriousness, Jude you mean so much to me that I struggle to put it into words each day, I swear at this point I could go longer without food and water than I could without you," both of you laughing at your statement.

Placing his hand on your cheek, Jude pulls you back into the kiss. Sinking into his touch, you let out a soft moan, "Jude I think i'm ready to have sex with you, for so many reasons" you say as you pull back abruptly, Looking you in the eyes with his, that in this moment, seem to shine brighter than the stars, he responds out of breath, "I think I am too, love". The two of you fall back into your kiss, his hands making their way around your waist and up your back to toy with the zipper of your cocktail dress. As he begins to pull the zipper down your back, your hands slide down from his shoulders to his chest to begin to undo the buttons on his shirt. Being raised in a very Christian household, the ideology of sex being a gift from God for married couples resonated with you, and you had decided to honor this through your life, you and Jude had met at around 15 years old, the age where sex is absolutely in the air amongst teens, pressure on young couples to just "get it over with". A little bit into your relationship with Jude, you had explained to him your feelings towards sex before marriage. Jude had admiration for you and your firm commitment to your beliefs. He made a promise that he would be with you, whether or not the two of you had sex. You were more than appreciative to have a man like him in your life.

Jude's hands moved back up to slide the thin dress straps off of each of your shoulders, once again pulling away from the kiss, his head dipped, delving into the crook of your neck where he began leaving a trail of warm, open mouthed kisses all the way to the curve of your shoulder. Your hands that previously fiddled with the buttons of his shirt, moved to the back of his head. Jude's actions had you longing for him, a heat floating down to your lower abdomen, turning into a growing wetness between your legs. You pushed Jude's shirt over his broad shoulders, his hands leaving your sides so he could pull them out of his sleeves. Focusing his attention back onto you, Jude gently pushed you down onto the bed, with his hand on your side for support. Standing up, he moved to the foot of the bed and began undoing his dress pants, with your eyes fixated on the skillful movements of his hands, you slowly pushed your dress down your sides, shimmying your hips to prevent it from bunching there. Once it was finally down you pushed it off the side of the bed. Jude has also finished removing his pants, he stepped out of where they lay at his feet, left in his gray boxers that left little to the imagination.

As he climbed back on top of you, you couldn't help but let your eyes wander, down to his chest first, then to his abs, toned and faintly shining in the dim lighting of the room, then to his well accentuated v-line. The sight of him like this was something to you knew would be burned into your mind. Your eyes trailed back up to his, meeting once again, his already fixated on your face. Jude placed one hand on your hip, toying with the side of your black lace underwear. His kisses began once again on your neck, gradually moving down to your chest. Jude had never done this before, the only reason he had somewhat of an idea of how to do any of this is because he had spoken to some close friends, done some internet surfing, and payed extra attention to all the things that seemed to excite you during the times the two of you made out, all in an effort to please you to his best ability in this moment.

Jude kissed your breasts where they spilled out of your bra, going down your stomach with hot kisses, exuding adoration. When he reached the band of your underwear he looked up at you giving a warm smile, Jude pressed a kiss to your clit through your underwear, letting out a muffled "I love you" while he did this. Hooking his fingers under the side of your underwear, he slowly pulled them down, leaving you in just your bra. When your underwear reached your ankles, he placed them to the side. He placed the first, open mouthed kiss onto your pussy, which was soaked with anticipation. The feeling of his lips against your desperate cunt sending a wave of heat through your body, causing you to inhale sharply, hips bucking upwards towards his face, your body practically begging him for more. Jude of course, granted this, delving down to your opening and separating your folds with the delicate tip of his tongue. Jude began his movements on your cunt, the feeling of his lips, tongue, the stubble on his face, and his two large hands gripping you're thighs, was unimaginable, and incomparable to anything you've ever felt.

Jude's face was buried deep between your legs. Your moans filled the room, increasing by octaves the closer you got to your high. As you finally arrived to your orgasm, Jude's grip on your thighs tightened, in response to your involuntary squirming. He pulled away from your cunt, face glistening with your slick, he flashed you a smile, melting your heart that was still racing from your high. Still in a daze, you quickly removed your bra, straddling Jude, who was now sitting on the bed next to where you previously lay. Placing a quick kiss to his lips, you shifted your focus down towards his lap, one of his hands found its way between the two of you. Jude positioned himself at your entrance, his tip prodding at the place you needed him the most. He used the hand that rested on your hip to begin to lower you onto him, the feeling had a light sting, which was soon overpowered by a full feeling as he bottomed out inside of you. One of Jude's hands came up to your cheek to lift your face, causing you to make eye contact with him. He had an endearing look in his eyes, Jude had always looked at you like you were an angel roaming this Earth, admiration in every glance, you truly were his everything. Your movements were slow, you lifted your hips with shaky breaths, your eyes still not leaving his, even as they began to flutter.

Sinking back down onto him, you let out a breathy moan. Jude's head began to fall back, his prominent Adam's apple grabbing your focus. The two of you, moving in sync, basking in the newfound feeling. Your pace increased, riding him with passion. As your movements continued your hips began tiring, Jude took notice. He bucked his hips, now fucking into you from beneath, the feeling was indescribable. His lips then met your chest, leaving kisses on and around your breasts. As you felt him begin to twitch inside of you, you pulled him into a kiss, the two of your moans clashing. The heat in your stomach grew into a flame, your cunt fluttering around him. The two of your climaxes were seconds away. "Jude please don't stop, so fkn' good" you cried out, throwing your head back simultaneously. Both of you finally arrived at your highs his cum inside of you only added to the sensation of fullness in your cunt, the room was filled with passionate moans, whispers of affection, and the sounds of the heavy breaths from the two of you. Bringing his attention to your eyes, Jude moved to kiss you, the kiss was slow and loving, almost like a silent gesture of his gratuity. "So happy to have you as my wife love", Jude smiled, pulling away.

"first round 2 in the shower?"

[bro-atz]

miscommunication [trope — yeosang]

inspired by: friends — sitcom

word count: 2.1k

content: angst, smut, miscommunication, bedroom sex, (unintentional) infidelity, unprotected sex (pls remember to wrap up irl!), completely consensual (sex)!

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You were waiting for Yeosang at the restaurant. You both agreed on the time and the place earlier in the week, and yet, he was still late. He was always late. The only time you ever saw him on time was the very first date you went on with him, and he was early for that because he was nervous. Now? Now he was late.

If it was only by ten or fifteen minutes, you would’ve been okay with it. However, it was never just ten or fifteen minutes. It was hours. Once, he kept you waiting at home with a home-cooked meal you put your back into for three hours. The worst part was that he always had an excuse, and his excuses were legitimate. Honestly, you wondered why you were still torturing yourself with the guy, but then the second you saw his face, the second he showed you the love that you oh so desired, you forgave him. Just like that.

This time, however, you were not going to do that. You were going to let him have it, and you were going to end it.

“Yeosang… You did it again," you uttered the second Yeosang arrived wheezing and panting.

“I’m sorry, baby. I really am,” Yeosang apologized earnestly. “I just forgot that we switched the location, and then time got away from me—”

“How many times will you use that excuse?! This is the third time this month! And I even texted you this morning to confirm, and you replied saying that you got it, so what the fuck?!”

You slammed your hand down on the table and got up. Yeosang grabbed your arm, but you snatched it away immediately and stormed out of the restaurant. He followed behind you shortly, and he walked behind you as you continued to walk away. Unfortunately for you, the light turned red, and you were stuck at the intersection, allowing him to catch up and pull you into a tight hug.

“Yeosang, let go of me,” you said as you fought to get out of his ridiculously strong arms.

“No, I’m not going to,” Yeosang responded, his embrace tightening. “Baby, I’m seriously sorry. You know I’m just really bad with these things—”

“You say that all the time, and nothing’s ever changed!”

“Let me make it up to you.”

“How are you going to do that this time?”

“Move in with me.”

Your eyes widened. You leaned away from him and looked into his eyes, yours darting back and forth as you tried to make sense of the situation. He seemed to be very serious about his proposition, and the thought of moving in with a boyfriend, not going to lie, scared the complete shit out of you.

“Or, if that’s too daunting,” Yeosang quickly added. “I want you to have a key to my place, and you can stay whenever, sleepover whenever— I just want you to know how serious I am about you. Please, baby.”

“Yeosang, one of these days, you either need to get it together, or this isn’t going to last,” you warned him.

“I know. I will. I’m sorry. Please.”

You knew that it wasn’t going to be so simple, that Kang Yeosang was incapable of changing so easily, but you loved him. You were going to make it work, right?

“Alright.”

The two of you went back to his place so he could give you the set of spare keys, but that never happened. Instead, the second you got there, Yeosang pinned you against the front door and kissed you passionately. Both of his hands cupped your cheeks, his palms resting on your cheeks while his fingers supported your neck. He was kissing you earnestly, as if he was trying to prove his love.

His hands worked on getting your clothes off as the two of you remained in the foyer, his impatience getting the better of him. He traced his hands over your bare shoulders and down your arms, the feeling of his hands alone enough to cover your entire body in goosebumps, the sound of your mingled gasps and breaths adding to the effect.

You were completely stripped down to nothing when Yeosang turned you around and pressed you against the door, his hand tracing the curve of your waist before grabbing your ass cheek tightly and pulling up on it, the intensity turning you on quickly. He continued to grope your ass and used his other hand to play with your breast while his mouth planted on your neck and left little pink marks scattered along the side of your neck and on your shoulder.

When he turned your face, he kissed you passionately again, completely distracting you as he, too, stripped down. He slipped his hand down to your neck, and his other hand began stroking your cunt, the tips of his fingers teasing you by scratching in lightly. You shared soft, breathless moans that melted into your endless kisses, the sound enough to turn you on so much that the second Yeosang’s finger brushed past your clit, you felt your insides clench, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you came.

Without giving you so much as a moment to prepare, Yeosang slid his cock into you, making you moan so loudly that it echoed in the foyer hall, overpowering the loud smack of his waist against your ass.

“Yeo—” you calling his name got cut short when he rutted into you suddenly, his thrusts short and sporadic. “Yeosang… N-Not here…”

You were honestly waiting for a verbal confirmation from the man. Instead, he quietly pulled out and turned you so that your back was pressing against the door. He stuffed you full with his cock again, a muffled cry leaving your pressed lips. You were honestly so worried that he was going to fuck you into the door, letting his neighbors hear every single thing the two of you were doing, but instead, he cupped the underside of your thighs and lifted you.

Your legs were wrapped tightly around his waist as he walked you into his bedroom, his cock still deep inside you. He brought his head up and connected your lips with his again, his tongue teasing yours. When he got to his room, you thought he was going to drop you on the bed. Instead, he remained carrying you, his ridiculously strong arms lifting you and dropping you quickly on his cock, the sheer speed and impact making stars appear in your eyes.

“Ah— Yeosang! P-Please don’t drop me,” you begged as you clung to him tightly, your nails digging into his back muscles as you pressed your head into the his collarbone.

“Don’t worry, baby. I’ve got you,” Yeosang uttered, his lips by your ear.

You continued to moan as Yeosang moved you even more forcefully, the slapping of his waist to your ass reverberating in the room. You felt like you were starting to slip, making you hug the man tighter. Not only did your arms get tighter, but so did your walls, his dick feeling the intensity of your clench. Yeosang’s breathing hitched, and he let out a low groan as he came. He held you in place and let his cock twitch inside you, his cum just filling up to the point where it was leaking out of your cunt and onto the area rug in his room.

After he had cum completely and started going soft in you, Yeosang moved you to the bed. He pinned you down and gazed at your face with love and affection as you blinked the tears away from your eyes. He tucked a stray piece of your hair behind your ear and kissed your temple softly, his eyelashes fluttering against your skin and tickling you.

“I promise, baby,” he whispered, his low voice making your knees tremble. “I’m going to make it up to you all night tonight.

“I cannot fucking believe this, Kang Yeosang!”

You were screaming at the top of your lungs as you stormed around your apartment, your boyfriend’s eyes following your every movement.

“Y/N, I said I was sorry—”

“You keep fucking saying you’re sorry, and I keep fucking falling for it! Just stop apologizing, and just say that you don’t love me anymore, Yeosang!”

“You know that’s not it—”

“No, but it is because you do this to me every single time without fail!” You slammed your hands down on the kitchen countertop and kept your head down, tears threatening to slip out of your eyes. You sniffled and wiped your tears before yelling with a wavering voice, “How can you fucking forget Valentine’s Day of all days?!”

“It just… It just slipped my mind.”

“Right. Because the day that is literally the national sex day is something that can slip out of your goddamn head.”

“Well, yeah!”

“Yeosang, there are hearts and flowers and reds and pinks in every single fucking store, every single street and alley, and I even asked you about it yesterday!”

“Y/N, I’m sorry, okay! But what should I do about it now? Also,” Yeosang shoved his arm forward, revealing the big bouquet of flowers he got you for the holiday. “I did get you flowers! All I did was forget to book a table at the restaurant, and I definitely did not forget that it’s Valentine’s Day— I’m saying that the reservation slipped my mind!”

“I asked you about it yesterday. You didn’t think to tell me yester-fucking-day?!”

“I am sorry! What more do you want from me! I can’t undo the entire day and restart! We’ll just do it properly next year!”

“Next year?” your heart sank, and your tone dropped. “You seriously… You seriously think there will be a next year, Yeosang?”

Yeosang’s mouth was open, but not a sound came out. He wanted to say something. He really wanted to say yes, that there would be a next year, but based off the way you said it, he wasn’t sure.

“I think… We need a break.”

“A… Break?”

“Let’s take a break,” you said. Let’s take a break— as if you were Ross and Rachel. “Let’s take a break.”

How long are breaks supposed to last, anyway? It had been weeks since you spoke to him. You wondered if he expected you to reach to him, but there was no way you were going to because it was his fault. He should apologize to you and come crawling back to you, right?

So then why the fuck was he sitting in a café across from another girl who was clearly laughing and flirting with him? What was supposed to be a detoxing shopping trip quickly turned into high anxiety and stress the second you saw him sitting there, the biggest smile on his face as he let that girl touch him so familiarly, and it took everything in you to keep from storming in and grabbing that bitch by her hair.

Well, you stormed in, but you didn’t grab her by her hair. Instead, you stood right before him, your eyebrows knitted together as you stared at the situation in complete confusion.

“Y/N?” Yeosang sounded surprised to see you— not shocked or worried; simply surprised.

“What the fuck is this?”

“What do you mean?”

“This!” you pointed at the girl. “Who the fuck is this?!”

“A girl I’ve been seeing—”

“What do you mean a girl you’ve been seeing?! Why have you been seeing someone?! What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

Patrons of the café were definitely staring, and while you would’ve been embarrassed normally, you were too fucking pissed to give a shit about who saw your dirty laundry.

“What do you mean?” Yeosang stood up, the two of you locking eyes. Without so much as even a stutter, Yeosang continued, “Because we broke up, remember?!”

“What the fuck?! I said let’s take a break, Yeosang! I just needed time for myself!” You were damn near tears and were barely able to choke out, “I never wanted to break up with you!”

That was the thing. You never wanted to break up with him; but, seeing him in the café with another girl just a mere couple of weeks after declaring you needed a break, seeing him move on so fast without even bothering to check on you, without even thinking he should clarify what the status of your relationship with him was, was enough to show you how he really cared. You weren’t going to fight for him, you weren’t going to beg for him to come back, and you certainly were not going to just let him be without a final confirmation. You grabbed one of the drinks from his table and poured it on his head, the man gasping and hunching his shoulders in shock as the coffee trickled down his face and absorbed into his clothes.

“Consider yourself dumped, Kang Yeosang,” you bit out. “We’re definitely broken up now.”

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[tommydarlings]

raising hands and racing hearts | s.v

pairing: dark!rbr!seb x reader

warnings: slapping, chocking, abusive/toxic relationship, manipulation

w/c: 0.9k

summary: Sebastian was a mean man, and he will always make sure that you know that — especially when you think that you can raise your hand against him.

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You and Sebastian were arguing…again. Of course you were, what else would the two of you be doing in this almost miserable relationship.

The two of you were always yelling at each other, pointing angry fingers at each other or throw something on the ground, most of the time he did that to scare you and make you jump — for some sick reason he loves seeing you vulnerable.

You don’t know in which kind of way, but he was different, he was…mean, almost evil you would say. He liked seeing you below him with teary eyes while he’s scolding you.

“You would be absolutely nothing without me!” Sebastian raised his voice at you, pointing with his finger at you from across the kitchen as you furrowed your brows, gulping before you sighed.

You shook your head before fresh tears entered your eyes that were staring at him in disbelief, deciding to quickly walk over to him.

To your suprise, your dear boyfriend smiled before he opened his arms, looking down at you with raised brows as he waited for you to crash into his embrace and apologise to him for everything you’ve done wrong.

But that wasn’t your plan. You stood in front of him and stared up at the German driver with a gaze that’s filled with rage, ”What?” He laughed down at you, “Come here, mein-”

Before he could even finish saying the infamous pet name, you raised your hand and slapped him across the face, only watching as his head struck to the side while you just stood there with big eyes.

You made a mistake, and you knew it.

He turned his head back around again, looking at you with an expression that you sadly weren’t able to read, you could only guess that it was pure anger and annoyance.

You don’t know why, but slowly taking a few steps back from him were the most logical thing to do in your opinion, so you slowly walked backwards, casually making your way over to the counter to continue chopping the vegetables for dinner.

But Sebastian wasn’t done yet.

You couldn’t even react before his arms already caught your waist, swiftly picking you up from behind and lifting you up, harshly gripping your body that’s pressed against his chest now.

His mouth ran along your ear, “Slapping me now, huh? You grew balls, little one,” he mumbled quietly, palms squeezing your skin, making you hiss, “didn’t expect that to be honest…I am really suprised.”

You gasped at his words as tears out of fear entered your eyes, gasping again as he ran his red knuckles along your now wet cheek.

“I'm mad that you raised your hand against me, oh I am furious, mein schatz…” he whispered into your ear as he wiped some of your tears away, “But I am also curious, baby,” Sebastian mumbled, “curious of how you would react if I would slap you with the same force across the face.”

You started to tremble as you heard his words, you know that, that would hurt way more since he’s physically just simply stronger than you.

And it scared you.

You shivered as his mouth briefly kissed your wet temple before he let go of you, putting your figure back onto the ground before he turned your around, palms cupping your cheeks.

You stared up at him with big, tears stained eyes, “S-Sebastian, that w-was in the heat of t-the moment! I’m s-sorry, I’ll-”

But Sebastian didn’t care, he just stared down at you with dark eyes before he slammed you with his hand around your throat against the wall, making you gasp and gulp since he slowly took your air away.

Your boyfriend leaned in closer, nose almost touching yours as he stared into your eyes, thumb gliding along your jaw as he slightly chocked you, other hand brushing some of your hair out of your face.

His dark eyes softened a tiny bit as he stared into your eyes, shaking his head as he noticed how afraid and nervous you looked. “What am I gonna do with you, hmm?” He tilted his head to the side.

You slowly shook your head, mumbling tiny no's under your breath while your hands trembled, nervously furrowing your brows as tears covered your temples and cheeks.

“No?” He asked teasingly with a wicked smile as he shook his head as well, pathetically mocking you, “Why are you acting all vulnerable when I’m the one who got hit by you! I don’t understand that, baby!” He raised his voice, making you jump a bit as his hand around your throat slowly loosened itself, softly putting it onto your cheek now.

“I don’t understand that,” Sebastian whispered in a rather gentle tone, fake pouting at you as he cupped your cheeks.

You sighed before you sniffled and just when you wanted to apologise again, he raised his hand and slapped you, making your face shoot to the side, forcing a high pitched gasp and whine out of you as he looked down at you with those deep, dark eyes again.

This bipolar freak.

Out of nowhere, you stared to cry, to sob and whine in a rather loud tone, pathetically falling into his arms, burying your face into his chest.

“You do know that I did this because I had to right y/n, baby? I did this out of love, mein Liebling,” the German mumbled as he stroked the back of your head,

“Just pretend that I never did that to you, okay?” He said as he heard your loud crying, “I can’t stand to hear and see you cry, you hear me?” He pecked your temple.

“Just listen to me and don’t raise your hand against me or I have to raise my hand against you, alright my love?” He kissed your nose before he kissed some of your fresh tears away as he chocked you again.

[the-dendrophile-bookdragon]

Come Home

Pairing: Eggsy Unwin x fem!reader

Warning: angst, fluff, smut, talk about unknown mission, anxiety, nail and skin biting, making out, p in v, dirty talk

Summary: Eggsy can't tell you what his next mission is going to be. Your worry drives both of you a little crazy.

Please support me by liking my post and reblogging and maybe leaving comments in the tags. Thank you!

The kitchen felt so small as you paced it up and down. You bit your nails and the skin around it. A habit you tried to unlearn. But the person who could keep you from biting yourself was the same person who was packing his bags for a new mission. A mission he was not allowed to talk about.

Eggsy was upstairs while you paced. He was worried too. About your well-being. He wasn’t allowed to talk about his mission which would make you go a little crazy with worry. He was finished packing and went down the stairs. From over the railing, he could see you pacing the kitchen. Your beautiful face contorted into a worried expression.

He came into the kitchen and stopped your pacing by gripping your shoulders. “What’s the matter, luv?” His worried expression mirrored yours.

You sighed as he looked down at you. “Your next mission.” You looked down at the floor. Eggsy’s face changed to confusion. “What about is bothering you?”

“You always tell me what will happen at your mission. Or at least you tell me the details you can reveal. But this time, every time I asked you, you say it's classified.” Your voice becomes shaky.

Eggsy sighed deeply. He pulled you into his arms, tightly embracing you and holding you to his broad chest. “I wish I could. But no one in the agency who isn’t involved in the mission is even allowed to know. That’s how important this mission is.”

Your head moved under his chin onto his chest. “Promise me you won’t be reckless and you will listen to Merlin.” Eggsy softly chuckled. His hand moved over your back in a moving motion. “You know I follow Merlin’s instructions to a T.” You looked up at him with a raised eyebrow. Eggsy sighed. “I try not to be too much of a hero.” He kissed the top of your head softly.

“I love you, Egg.” You moved closer into your boyfriend’s arms. “I love you too. You won’t notice me. The day you start missing me is the day I will be back. Wrapping you in my arms.”

A smile etches itself on your lips. “What if I missed you already yesterday?” Eggsy huffed out a laugh. “You are wrapped in my arms, are you not?” He raised his eyebrows. You just nodded softly.

“When will you be back?” You looked up at Eggsy with a soft expression. “I am not sure. Maybe two days. I promise I call you when I am flying back.” You nodded again. Your head was deep in thought. Eggsy took your cheeks in his palms and softly caressed them.

Your eyes wandered up. “Can you make love to me before you go?” Eggsy’s eyes widened for a bit before he pulled you closer to him, a grin etching on his lips. “Of course, my love. Let's go upstairs and get comfortable, shall we?”

He pulled you up to your shared bedroom. The clothes were shed with lightspeed. Hands were roaming each other’s bodies. With a soft grip, Eggsy picked you up and laid you on the bed. You made out for a little while. Calloused hands running over your soft skin.

He moved behind you. With a tight grip on your hips, he slowly moved inside of you. You mewled softly as he was deep inside of you. Eggsy groaned behind you as he moved out of you. Your walls squeeze him tightly. “Shit, baby. You are so tight.”

Your boyfriend was biting and sucking hickeys onto the skin of your neck. “Sweetheart, can we do-“ You nodded immediately. “Yeah, let me just turn.”

Eggsy sat up and let you move on your hands and knees. He kissed down your spine before softly biting into the flesh of your hip. “God, your ass.” He groaned softly as he caressed your cheeks. A sharp slap made you jolt and gasp. Eggsy grinned.

Your hands fisted into the sheets of your bed. The room's temperature was rising as Eggsy’s thrust grew stronger. With every thrust your soft mewls became louder, turning into soft moans. “Sweetheart, am I safe to come inside you? I forgot the condom.” You nodded. “Took the pill this morning and no outflow. We are safe.”

Eggsy rutted faster into you from behind. His peak is approaching fast. He snaked his arm around you to touch your clit. With soft circles, he brought you closer to your end. “Shit, sweetheart. I don’t want to finish before you do.” He moaned out. His fingers sped up.

Your body began to shake as you neared your orgasm. Your moans turn into screams of your boyfriend’s name. Eggsy smirked as he felt you squeeze him impossibly tight. Your arms gave out under you as the dam broke and you finished. Eggsy followed close behind. He thrust into you with three powerful thrusts before releasing inside you. The twitching of his cock made you shiver, which made your walls tighten a bit. “Shit!” Eggsy hissed out. “Everything okay, Egg?”

The man in question nodded softly. “Peachy, sweet cheeks. You just squeezed me while you shivered. I’m a bit sensitive right now.” He moved out of you and softly laid you on your back.

With a soft kiss to your lips, he excused himself to the bathroom, coming back with a damp washcloth to clean you up. He caressed your inner thighs with a soft touch while cleaning you up. You jerked away a bit, feeling the oversensitivity yourself. “Sorry, sweetheart. I am nearly finished.”

After cleaning you and himself up he lay down and enveloped you. You turned to face him, softly kissing his nose. “Promise me you will come back to me and JB. Promise me, Gary!” Eggsy looked down at you. He knew you needed him to confirm your request. You used his birthname, which you only used when he did something stupid, you were annoyed at him or when things got serious.

He sat up a pit, leaning over you. He caressed your sides. His fingertips move along your rips not going further than under your boob. “I promise you I will come home in one piece. I call you as soon as I am on the plane home.” He looked you deep in the eyes. “I love you too much to make you cry because of me.”

Eggsy kissed you deeply. He pulled you to his chest. Hand splayed on your back as he held you to his chest. You fell asleep in his arms. He held you to his chest and waited until you were fast asleep before he got dressed in his bulletproof suit and went on the mission. You woke up to a message on your phone. “Sweetheart, I love you. Coming back home in two days. I promise you. I’ll come home.”

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@b3llb00

[chvoswxtch]

Hey there, I was wondering if at some point you could do a one shot of female reader who has PTSD from being trafficked and Frank comforts her during one of her nightmares or flashbacks?

I’m a survivor and just could really use some measure of comfort right now. That maybe there are people who care. That I’m not alone. That things will get better. That maybe one day I can actually have a man who will love me.

Thank you so much.

my darling nonnie,

I just want to say how proud of you I am. I cannot even begin to imagine the horror you went through, and I am so very sorry that happened to you. I am so grateful to know that you made it out and you are safe.

you are absolutely not alone, not here. I can assure you that one day, you will meet someone who will take the time to listen to your story, and will love you through it, and do everything they can to make you feel protected. you are worthy of love and happiness, and nothing that was ever done to you was ever your fault.

I want to apologize for taking so long to get this to you, but I hope it provides the solace that you need. I want to thank you for trusting me with this, for sharing your story with me, and for giving me the opportunity to gift you with some comfort. I hope this makes you feel supported, and I hope it makes you smile. I am sending you every ounce of love I possibly can. ❤️ 

warning: light swearing, angst, mentions of ptsd word count: 1.7k

right here.

The faintest disturbance to your otherwise peaceful slumber instantly made Frank’s eyes flutter open. He had always been a bit of a light sleeper, and during his time in the marines, he had to be ready to wake up at a moment’s notice and prepared to jump into action if need be. This made it particularly hard for him to be able to sleep in, even when he really wanted to, but it did grant him the ability to rescue you from the lingering monsters that came after you in your dreams.

Opening up to Frank about your traumatic past had been a task that terrified you, and you had put it off as long as you possibly could. It was difficult to talk about in general. You didn’t enjoy having to relive that nightmare all over again, but sometimes beneath the depths of sleep, your mind didn’t give you a choice. The first time you had a nightmare in Frank’s presence, it was terrible. 

You had been thrashing around in your unconscious state, warm salty tears staining your cheeks, and the feeling of strong hands holding your body down only sent your subconscious into a further state of panic, crying out for anyone to help. It was several minutes before Frank’s deep voice broke through your psyche, and your eyes suddenly snapped open to meet his horrified ones. Frank was straddling your hips, his large hands wrapped firmly but gently around your wrists, and he had them pinned against his own chest. You could feel the warmth radiating from his skin through your fingertips, and his heartbeat pounding wildly in his chest. His face was twisted up in a concoction of pure concern and unmistakable fear, and that caused an onslaught of overwhelming emotions to crash into you like a merciless tide against an unsuspecting shore.

Fear. Guilt. Shame. Panic. Insecurity.

It all washed down your cheeks in wave after wave, and apologies spewed from your lips like glimmering sea foam. Frank didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know what you needed from him at that moment, but he did his best to navigate you away from the storm in your own head to the safety of his serene embrace. 

He had swiftly pulled you up into his arms so that he could hold you in his lap, cradling the back of your head in his large palm against his chest, pressing his lips to your forehead in a permanent kiss. His arms were wrapped tightly enough around you that you knew he wasn’t going anywhere, but not so much that you felt suffocated. Frank rocked you gently in his arms, alternating between shushing you quietly and whispering sweet nothings into your ear to calm you. 

You couldn’t let go of him. Somewhere along the way, you had gone from being terrified of someone to touch you to needing Frank’s touch more than the oxygen in your own lungs. Even despite knowing about Frank’s past and what he had done, you knew he wouldn’t hurt you. It was extremely hard for you to trust anyone like that after what had happened to you, but you trusted him. You knew his intentions were always pure. Frank was always gentle with you. He never pushed you to talk if you didn’t want to. He respected all of your boundaries, even the ones you didn’t voice, but he could see. When it came to intimacy, he followed your lead and always made sure you were comfortable before he did anything. 

But it wasn’t until that moment that you realized how safe you were with him. 

That moment of clarity was a huge breakthrough for you, because you finally realized that you had someone that would love you through anything, and would go above and beyond to protect you. 

That what had happened to you would never happen again.

Once you had finally calmed down enough to speak, you told Frank the truth about your traumatic past. Frank listened intently and without judgment, and held your hand the entire time, crafting the safe space you needed to get that weight off your chest. You could see the crestfallen shine coating his waterline as you spoke, and feel his rage for those who had hurt you in the way he tightened his hold on you. 

Everything seemed to click into place for him. He’d had his suspicions that there was something you weren’t telling him. You were just as hypervigilant in public as he was. Shades of discomfort and anxiety coated your face whenever people moved into your space too suddenly, especially men. You had been weary of him when he first met you, and took awhile to warm up to him, but he had just assumed you found him physically intimidating, or that you knew the truth about his past before he’d had a chance to explain himself. Intimacy was a slow process in your relationship, not that he really minded, and he had picked up on your sensitivity to being touched. 

Frank knew the signs of PTSD. He had seen it in several of his friends during his time in the marines. He saw it every time he looked in the mirror. And he saw it in you. 

Your confession only made your relationship stronger with Frank. It helped him understand you on a more intimate level, and helped him figure out what you needed from him when things got bad, or when the shadows of your past came to plague your dreams.

Like they were doing right now.

Frank turned over from his position on his stomach to mold himself against your back, reaching over your hips to grasp one of your hands, lacing his fingers through your own as he brushed his lips against your ear. The little distressed whimpers he heard coming from you broke his heart, and he hoped that he could pull you from the horror film playing in your head before the climax.

“Wake up, sweetheart. C’mon, wake up for me.”

He lightly brushed his thumb along your lower stomach soothingly, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck, caressing your jaw with featherlight kisses from his plump lips.

“Listen to my voice. Come back to me, baby. C’mon, m’right here.”

He listened intently for the sound of your breathing to become shallow, and a rush of relief flooded his senses when he felt you start to grip his hand for reassurance. 

“There ya go, attagirl. Come to me, baby.”

Frank could faintly see the reflection of the moonlight twinkling in your eyes as they shot open. The shuddering inhale that cut through the silence made his heart ache, but he fought through his own emotions to focus on you.

“Frank?”

The smallness of your voice coming out in shattered fragments hurt him more than any wound he’d ever had. He gave your hand a gentle squeeze, pressing his lips to your neck in a tender kiss as he whispered delicately into your ear.

“M’here, sweetheart. Right here.”

For a moment he just held you, his thumb tracing invisible shapes against your skin, giving you a moment of space to figure out what you needed in that moment. Sometimes you knew that answer, and sometimes you needed him to find it.

“Need somethin’, honey?”

“I…I don’t know.”

“S’alright. This one wasn’t so bad, yeah? S’gettin’ better?”

The sound of your deep exhale was loud in his ears. He felt the stiffness of fright slowly melt away from your bones as you relaxed into his embrace, and Frank knew he had you back.

“Yeah.”

For a moment it was silent, nothing but the echo of your confirmation and the summertime breeze rustling through the trees lingering in the air.

“Thank you.”

“Never gotta thank me, sweetheart. I wanna help.”

“You do, a lot. Sometimes I feel like…like I ask too much of-”

“Hey, don’t start that.”

Frank heard your soft sigh of protest, and he held you against him that much tighter in his own silent response.

“I don’t think I can go back to sleep.”

There was a twinge of guilt resonating in your soft confession. Frank glanced behind him to look at the clock on the nightstand, the lime green digital numbers reading three seventeen in the morning. 

“You hungry?”

“What?”

The tone of your voice was a mixture of perplexity and amusement, but he was just glad you sounded like you again.

“Lemme take ya to breakfast, c’mon.”

“Frank, it’s like-what, two in the morning?”

“Three actually.”

Frank was halfway out of bed, prepared to drag you with him, when you gripped onto his hand and your melodic laughter filled the room. God, he had missed that sound.

“Where are we going for breakfast at three in the morning?”

“That diner down the street ya like. They’re open twenty four hours, and they’re one of the only goddamn places in this city knows how to make fuckin’ hash browns right.”

The more Frank talked, the louder your infectious laughter got, and he found himself grinning from ear to ear with pride.

“What are you talking about? What is the right way to make hash browns?”

The incredulity was clear in your tone, even though you were laughing so hard you could hardly speak.

“Gotta cover ‘em and smother ‘em. Onions, cheese, ketchup, maybe a lil hot sauce. There’s a right way and a wrong way, alright? The fact you don’t know there’s a wrong way means you ain’t ever had ‘em right, and what kinda man would I be if I didn’t fix that, huh?”

Frank didn’t wait for your reply. He lifted you up by your waist and gently folded you over his shoulder, his arm wrapped securely around the back of your thighs as his free hand came down against your ass in a light smack while he grinned widely.

“Now c’mon, baby. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.” 

tags: @day-dreaming-goddess @neverlandcity @charmedkim @queenofthenoobs @stilldreaming666 @mattymurdock1021 @bubuslutty @messymissy @dark-academia-slut @strawberry1042

[trendywaifus]

hello there! Nice seeing you post again— been following you since your first Kny’s posts and I love your writing style! Since we’re under the HSR train, can I request reader who is part of the express and like March and Stelle are very protective of them because they’re really weak due to a past injury? And Then they tell the Characters that one day they’ll find the strength to be able to fight for themselves soon? Heurhuryeue that’d just be cool, only if you wanna tho!! Thank you!!!! Have a bread day

omg!! rlly?? eeeeeeeeee, its so nice to see long time followers! its been like. .5 or 4 years since i made this blog? wow time goes by fast, im really happy that you’re still here! i hope you’ve been growing as a person without much struggle as time passed!

“ march! “ you swatted her prying hand away and adjusted the crutch to your side. “ for the last time, i can get up and walk myself, can’t you see i have this crutch to support me? “ taken aback by you swatting her hand and your warning glare, her expression saddens. you were injured from the encounter with the doomsday beast. march made a mistake she wish she could take back. during the doomsday beast encounter, she gotten cocky; biting more than she can chew and recklessly attacked the beast with barrage of arrows while staying in one spot. at that moment, one of its hands quickly appeared in front of her, ready to strike. luckily, you managed to push her out of the way at the cost of your side getting clawed and a fractured leg.

march’s stomach churns at the horrible memory. what stuck to her mind was the look of horror written on your face as the creature’s large claw nearly dug itself into your side as you clumsily dodged backwards. you nearly screamed as you landed in a bad position and danheng had to escort you far away from the fight as far as he could. she swallows hard, digging her nails into her palm, enough to engrave crescents into her skin.“ i know that, but still! i want to support you too. i-i was the one who made you like this! if i had buffed you with defense, i- “

“ march 7th. “ your partner shakes her head stubbornly, tears in her eyes. “ you don’t understand, seeing you back there—seeing you in pain like that— haunts me! i can’t pretend to be all happy and joyful when you’re not even with me on adventures! i know that i’m ignorant to many things that i shouldn’t be ignorant to. but. . i don’t want to be insensitive to your struggles either that’s why i been so protective.”

you sighed deeply, dropping your gaze to the floor. unusual silence fills the atmosphere of your cabin while you fully process march’s confession. you were wrong for being annoyed at her protectiveness. things could of been much worse and you could only imagine how’d she think of herself then. march takes your hand in hers, your eyes immediately reverts back to hers, gaze softening around the edges. her lips curled into an apologetic sad smile, she looks at you with pleading eyes.

“ months from now march. .” you cast her a tight—lipped smile, “ me, you, stelle, and danheng will all be together running around making memories in some random planet. i’ll be able to do things for myself fully again so don’t you worry, you reckless girl.”without any protest, you let her throw her arms around your shoulders to embrace you.

“ i’ll do better next time, i swear on it (name)!“

“ i know that i don’t miraculously come back alive after i die like you but you’re watching me as if i’ll just suddenly fall over and perish. “ you remark, striking the wooden dummy with a wooden sword. you were careful not to swing too fluidly because of the stitches on your abdomen. you’d rather not reopen them and bleed out on the spot. “ danheng said that you’re not suppose to be training while you have stitches in. “

you scoffed, “ alright? well i am, now what? i’m not in much pain anymore and i just have to reduce my movement in my slashes. danheng’s a snitch for telling you that i’m here. you know what they say stelle, snitches get sti—fuck! “ a momentary sharp sensation shoots in your wound area and you crumble to your knees. stelle is by your side, her countenance contorted in disappointment. her gloved hand rests on the small of your back and the other on your knee. “ i-i’m okay, this normally happens after a few weeks of having stitches. pretty fun experience time to time. it’ll be completely painless sooner or later. “ you comment, mustering a shaky smile.

“ i think danheng is right and i don’t like seeing you like this. “ stelle frowns. you sighed in relief at the sensation going away and lifted yourself from the floor, stelle follows suit. “ then leave, stelle. you don’t have to be here. “ you shrugged her off and repositioned yourself into sword stance. she blocks you from the dummy, giving you a pointed look. “ don’t look at me like that. unless you want to be my training partner, i want you to step aside. “ you commanded, glaring at your stubborn girlfriend.

she shakes her head, a mocking smile erasing the frown from her lips. “ i don’t want to so now what?”you roll your eyes, she continues, placing her hands on her hips playfully, “ i don’t think you have the strength yet to defeat the likes of me, foolish mortal.“

“ oh no! you’re right! “ you gasped, dropping your sword dramatically, “ i wonder how i can defeat you! oh, i know how. “ before she can react, you pulled her in by the hoodie and smashed your lips against hers for a brief moment then pulled away. stelle looks absolutely dumbfounded, her jaw slightly ajar at the surprise kiss. you smirked, “ i don’t even need my full strength to defeat you and when i do, i’ll do a lot more than this. “

[sequinsmile-x]

300 - Part 2 - Emily & Aaron

Emily, Aaron and their love as observed by their friends.

AKA - the five times the team see them love each other, and the one time they don't even try to hide it.

My 300th Hotchniss fic

Part 2/2

-x-

Hi friends,

Thank you so much for the love on Part 1 - it genuinely means the world to me. I would write you all 1000 Hotchniss fics (and lets be real i'm 1/3 of the way there).

As ever your support means the world to me, and I hope you like this part 2 of our idiots just being hopelessly, completely in love with each other.

-x-

Words: 4.2k

Warnings: None

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Aaron & Emily

She wakes up slowly, her senses kicking in one by one as she blearily blinks and groans, pressing her face into Aaron’s chest as she snuggles deeper into his embrace. He chuckles against her hairline and runs his hand up and down her back, his palm sneaking under her t-shirt, his t-shirt, to press his skin against hers. 

“Good morning, sweetheart,” he says, his voice gravelly, thick with sleep. She loved his voice in the morning, loved that it was somehow deeper than normal, that it was something just for her. She hums and tilts her head to look up at him, her eyes meeting his through heavy eyelids as she places her hand on his cheek and drags him in for a kiss. 

“Morning,” she mutters against his lips, kissing him again, “What time is it?” 

He looks at his watch and fights a yawn as he places his hand on her back again, “Almost 8 am.” 

She groans and presses her face into his neck, untangling her leg from between his to hook it over his hip so she can get closer, “Before you, I used to sleep in,” she grumbles, kissing his jaw, “I just had to fall in love with a morning person.” 

He suppresses a laugh, well aware from experience that even in a half-asleep state she’d be mad at him if she thought he was making fun of her, “It’s worth it though, right?” 

She hums and nods against him, tilting her head back to look at him. She runs her fingers through his hair, smiling to herself when it flops back into position, “Totally worth it.” 

They’d been together for just over a year and she struggled to remember how it felt to live without love like this. It was all-encompassing, the kind of thing she’d only ever read about before him, what she’d once believed only existed in romance novels she’d indulge in when on vacation. He and Jack were everything. Her Hotchner boys filling gaps in her chest she hadn’t known existed, all three of them helping each other heal from the things they had been through. She loved them so much that it scared her at times, her happiness so reliant on them that she worried about them constantly, anything as small as a scratch on either of them enough to make her panic. 

It was a price worth paying, she thought. The love, joy and happiness far outweighing the pain that inevitably came with loving someone. 

“Good to know,” he replies wryly, cupping the back of her head to hold her in place as he presses a kiss to her forehead. 

She smiles softly at him, resting her head on his shoulder as she yawns. He starts to run his hand up and down her back again and she knows if he carries on she’ll fall asleep, “Can we just stay here all day? For someone who has moved as often as I have, I’m exhausted.” 

He’d asked her to move in with him months ago, not too long after they told the team about them, but after a long discussion, they’d decided to find somewhere new. To buy a house for them and Jack and whoever may come along in the future. To create a home that neither of them had been a part of in a long time, or in her case - ever. It had taken a long time to find somewhere that felt perfect for them, somewhere that they could see themselves spending the rest of their lives. 

They’d only just moved in a few weeks ago, the last of the boxes from their old places now in the house. They were slowly unpacking. Their bedroom and Jack’s were sorted, as were the kitchen and the living room, but the dining table still hadn’t been delivered, the home office was just full of boxes. She knew they had to finish unpacking, but she wanted to leave it for a day and spend some time relaxing with her boyfriend. 

He looks down at her, and he blows out a slow breath, making sure to school his features before she looks at him, “Actually, sweetheart, I have to go into the office for a little bit this afternoon.” 

She scoffs and shifts to look at him, her eyebrows furrowed together, “Oh, why?” 

He pushes some of her hair from her forehead, “Strauss.” 

She rolls her eyes and rests her head back on his shoulder, “Well what am I supposed to do?” She asks, reaching for his hand and linking their fingers together, “You’ll be at work, Jack is with Jess. I’ll be here all by myself.” 

She used to treasure her alone time, used to pride herself on the fact she was good at being alone, but she couldn’t be anymore. Even though they’d only just officially moved in together she couldn’t remember the last time she spent a night apart from him. She didn’t like being alone anymore, it was too quiet when Aaron wasn’t next to her, tapping his fingers on her thigh as he read a case file, or when she couldn’t hear Jack’s cartoons from the next room when she was in the kitchen. 

He smiles, pressing his thumb to the slight pout of her lower lip, “Why don’t you call JJ? See if she’s free.” 

She hums and nods, “Yeah, I’ll do that. Will is working today so she’ll be free,” she smiles, kissing his thumb, “I can get in some Henry cuddles,” she kisses his thumb again, “You’ll come home as soon as you can though?”

He nods and leans in to kiss her, his smile pressed against her lips, “I’ll always come straight home to you.” ___

Aaron 

He feels the nerves bubbling in his chest as soon as he steps into the bullpen.

He gives himself a moment to himself, knowing it will be the last one he has all day, before he pushes open the glass door and smiles as his friends look up.

“I’d about time you showed up,” Dave grumbles, raising his eyebrow at him as he places a box of candles down on Emily’s desk, “You’re the one proposing and you’re the last one here.” 

Aaron can’t help but smile, the ring box in his pocket suddenly seeming slightly heavier as he thinks about it. He’d had this planned for weeks, every detail something he’d agonised over, second guessing himself over whether he’d made the right decision in how he was going to ask Emily to marry him. They’d discussed marriage, so she knew it was coming at some point, but he still wanted to surprise her. It’s why he’d got the team involved, his uncharacteristic request for help with something personal had piqued their interest immediately. Penelope had been close to giddy, so excited he’d had to ask her to calm down so Emily didn’t hear her. 

“We were running a little late this morning,” he says, “JJ said she’d keep Emily busy for as long as we needed her to.” 

“How come JJ gets to go shopping as part of this,” Derek says, raising his eyebrow as he tilts his head towards the box of rose petals he had on his desk, “And I’m on rose petal duty?” 

Dave rolls his eyes, “Because it wouldn’t be believable if you asked her to go to the mall with you, Morgan.” 

Derek sticks his tongue out at him and Penelope scoffs, a clipboard in her hand with a to-do list she had printed out herself, “We don’t have time for you to act like children,” she says, shaking her head, “Rossi - candles, Derek - rose petals.” 

“What am I here for?” Spencer asks, putting his hand up, his lips pressed together, his amusement slowly fading as Penelope glares at him. 

“To help where it’s needed, genius,” she replies, looking back and forth between her list and the rest of them, “Well come on. We don’t have forever and I won’t let you ruin this for me.” 

Aaron clears his throat and raises his eyebrow at her, “Garcia, I think you mean you won’t let them ruin this for me and Emily?” 

She waves at him dismissively, “That too,” she says, “Now you just need to go to your office and set it up.”

He suppresses a smile and nods, catching Dave’s eye as he salutes her, “Yes ma’am.” 

He walks up to his office, the din of the team's conversation fading away as he closes the door behind him, taking a breath to centre himself as soon as he is alone. 

This was the place where he’d met Emily, where their paths had crossed and their lives had started to intertwine in a way he never could have anticipated. He’d been attracted to her immediately, her beauty undeniable even then. He never could have known that he’d one day know her as he did, that he’d know she had a patch of freckles on her shoulder that bloomed every summer, or that her skin always smelt faintly of vanilla. That her embrace was one of the few places he’d one day find safety. Home a place he found somewhere between her collarbone and her shoulder. 

He wished he could have been nicer to her when they first met, that he could go back and tell himself he was talking to the woman who would end up being the love of his life, but he knew everything happened as it should have. That they could never trust each other as much as they did now without that initial distrust and what it had led them to, a flight to Milwaukee just the two of them forging a friendship that would one day turn into so much more. 

She always said that he liked to rewrite their history, that he liked to underplay just how little he trusted her at first, but it was true. He’d been attracted to her the moment they met. Her smile and firm handshake, the way her eyes sparkled in a way he now knew covered the trauma she’d just been through in a job that wasn’t on her official record, had drawn him in. Like a moth to a flame as his marriage crumbled around him, the very thought of Emily enough to make him angry at himself. Pouring gasoline on the flame of guilt that climbed up his throat during every disagreement with Haley, something that had only got worse as time went on. 

When he met Emily he never could have known how important she’d come to be to him, how integral to his and his sons’ lives she’d become, and now he couldn’t imagine life without her. She’d helped put him back together, something she seemingly never tired of, picking up the pieces again and again when old demons came out of the shadows. He did the same for her, being the strength she needed when it all seemed too much. It was something he felt privileged to do, to be the person she let past the barriers she had built around herself long before they had ever met. 

He was excited to spend the rest of his life with her, to make the house they’d just moved into a home. To raise Jack and hopefully a couple more kids with her. To kiss her every morning, to let her know that she was loved every day. Even though they’d talked about marriage, and he knew it was something they both wanted, he could still feel nerves rolling through his gut. Excitement at the prospect of forever with her fizzing under his skin. 

He smiles to himself as he approaches his desk and he pulls the ring box out of his pocket and places it down, his fingers lingering on the velvet. 

This is where he met her, and it was where he’d ask her to spend the rest of her life with him.

___

Emily

“Aunt Emily!” 

She turns at the sound of Henry’s voice and she smiles, opening her arms and crouching down as the 5-year-old races towards her, leaving JJ behind. She scoops him up into her arms and rests him on her hip, pressing a kiss to his head as he wraps his arms around her neck.

“Hi buddy,” she says, kissing his head again and chuckling as JJ finally makes it to their side, “You already wearing Mommy out?” 

“He sure is,” JJ says, placing her hand on Henry’s head for a moment, ruffling his hair, “You know not to run away from Mommy.”

He shrugs and leans in further to Emily, “But I saw Aunt Emmy.” 

Emily and JJ exchange a quick smile and she tilts her head to look at the little boy in her arms, “I would have waited, honey. No need to run,” she says, adjusting her hold on him slightly as she looks back at her friend, “So, what stores did you need to go to?” 

Something close to panic flashes through JJ’s eyes only for a second, her smile tight as she shrugs, “Oh, nowhere in particular,” she says, “Did you need to go somewhere?” 

Emily narrows her eyes slightly, and almost reminds her friend that she was the one who said she needed to go to the mall, and that she was only tagging along because she was home alone, but she lets it slide. She clears her throat and shrugs, turning her attention to Henry, bouncing him in her embrace. 

“Well, I promised Jack some new Legos, so do you want to help me pick some out?” 

Henry’s face lights up and he nods enthusiastically, “Legos!” 

JJ laughs and starts leading the way, “The Lego store it is.” 

Henry convinces her that Jack needs two new Lego sets and she can’t help but shake her head at herself as she pays. She was a pushover when it came to Henry and Jack, and she knew she would be for her future children too. It was something Aaron always gently made fun of her for, a loving smile on his face as he said he would have to be the disciplinarian at work and at home, as if he wasn’t also wrapped around Jack’s finger.  It would always warm her from the inside out when she thought about their future, the future she would have once thought was nothing but a fantasy bright and real right in front of her. 

When she was in Paris, dead to almost everyone, a life like this had seemed impossible to consider. A fantasy she’d run through every night to chase her nightmares away as she lay in bed and tried to sleep. She already knew she loved Aaron by that point, feelings she could no longer deny bursting free from where she’d buried them deep in her chest at the thought of never seeing him again. Even when she came home she had thought it would never happen, that she was simply too damaged to be with him. He’d been hurt so much already and she didn’t want to add to that, didn’t want her scars to stick to his, pulling them into each other in a way that was unhealthy. 

The first time they kissed it was like the world had restarted, even though she wasn’t aware it had stopped. Everything shifted in a moment, all the things she had once believed she would never get to experience suddenly within reach. They made each other better, loved every single thing about each other, especially the broken parts, and every day she woke up hoping to make him feel even half as loved as he made her feel. It was a privilege to be loved by him, to love him back, and she would happily go through everything all over again just to make it right to this point. 

“Do you want to go and get something to eat?” JJ asks after they’ve been wandering around for a while, Henry’s hand firmly in Emily’s and she feels her stomach roll at the thought and she shakes her head.

“I’m okay,” she replies, turning her nose up at the mere idea of the smell of the food court, “You two can go get something to eat if you want,” she says, checking her watch, “Aaron will probably be on the way home soon anyway, so I could just head-”

“No,” JJ says, cutting over her as she checks her own watch, “It was just an idea I’m not hungry,” she adds before blowing out a breath, “Why don’t we just do a little more shopping? Surely you need some things for the house?” 

Emily narrows her eyes at her friend but nods, “Okay, sure. We still need some things for the dining room.” 

“Perfect,” JJ says, smiling as she nods in the direction of the home goods store, “Let's go.” 

She looks down at Henry as they follow JJ, “Your Mommy is in a weird mood today, honey.” 

Later, when she looked back on it she’d realise just how many signs she missed, JJ’s slightly odd behaviour suddenly making sense, but she willingly follows her friend around the mall. 

And she doesn’t question when JJ suggests they drop by the office, she simply nods and agrees, excited at the prospect of seeing Aaron. 

___

Aaron & Emily

She can tell something is different the moment she gets into the office. The usual hustle and bustle that she’d feel here, even on a weekend, is missing. It feels almost peaceful, calm in a way that makes her curious. 

She stops on the spot the moment the bullpen is in view. There are no lights on, but there are candles everywhere, leading from the glass doors, past her desk and up the stairs, to Aaron’s office a path laid with rose petals that makes her breath catch in her chest. She knows what is happening, her stomach flipping as she blows out a shaky breath, tears already pressing at the back of her eyes. She looks up at Aaron’s office, the open door a calling card she can’t ignore, and she’s moving before she can think about it, as if her body was pulled towards him. 

She places her hand over her mouth as she steps into his office, a sob catching on every rib as she tries to force it down. There were more candles, more rose petals, and most importantly - him. He was standing in the middle of the room, wearing a suit he hadn’t been wearing when he left home earlier that afternoon, a nervous smile on his face. 

“Hi sweetheart,” he says, his voice shaking a little. He wasn’t nervous anymore, not now he was looking at her, but he was overwhelmed, almost bowled over by his love for her. 

“Hi,” she gasps, her hand landing on her chest as she looks around, shaking her head slightly, “Now I see why JJ told me to go ahead when we got here.” 

He chuckles and nods, “The others are all here too,” he says, his smile widening when her mouth falls open slightly, “They are in the conference room waiting. I think Dave locked them in so Penelope wouldn’t come rushing out here.” 

She chuckles but it’s wet, catching on to the built-up emotion in her chest, “Well,” she says, wiping a tear from her lashline as it falls, “We better not keep them waiting.” 

He steps towards her and kneels on the ground, his hand reaching out for hers. She sucks in a breath, desperate to stop herself from crying, but she knows it’s useless, that she was a lost cause the moment she stepped into his office. 

“Emily, sweetheart,” he says, clearing his throat to steady his voice, increasing his grip on her hand, “This is the place that we met. And, no matter how much I wish I could say I was polite to you that day,” he says, and both of them chuckle, “I wouldn’t change anything. Because otherwise we might not be here, and that seems like an impossible thought. You’ve changed me for the better, you’ve made me happier than I ever thought I could be, happier than I thought I deserved.” 

She shushes him, shaking her head at the self-depreciation, “You deserve everything.” 

He kisses her knuckles before he carries on, pressing his love directly onto her skin, “I want to spend the rest of my life trying to make you as happy as you make me,” he says, briefly letting go of her hand to pull the ring box out of his pocket. She gasps as he opens it, the ring exactly what she would have chosen for herself, a pear-shaped diamond set back into the band, something she could wear at work without worrying about it catching on something, “Emily, will you marry me?”

She’s nodding before he’s even finished asking the question, her answer coming out as a sob, “Yes. Of course, I will.” 

He slips the ring onto her finger and she doesn’t give him the chance to even try to stand up, already kneeling down in front of him as she presses a fierce kiss to his lips, her arms tight around the back of his neck. She pulls back from the kiss and hugs him tightly, an embrace he returns with just as much love, and she buries her face in his neck. 

“I love you so fucking much,” she says, her words muffled against his skin. He turns his head to kiss her, his lips catching her ear and he runs his hand up and down her back. 

“I love you too,” he replies, kissing her again, “I love you so much.” 

She chokes on a sob as she pulls back, taking a moment to look at her hand, to get used to the weight of the ring, the feel of the metal against her skin, and then she looks around the room, shaking her head at him, “You did all of this for me?” 

He cups her cheek and makes her look at him, his smile soft and his eyes shining as they meet hers, “I’d do anything for you,” he replies, leaning forward and stamping his lips against hers, “It wasn’t too much was it?”

She shakes her head and runs her fingers through his hair, “It was perfect,” she says, scratching at his scalp, “So perfect,” she kisses him, resting her forehead against his as she pulls away, “Thank you for asking me.”

He smiles and rubs his nose against hers, taking a moment to breathe her in, to enjoy this moment of the two of them alone, kneeling on the floor of his office, before they went to see their friends a few rooms down the hall to celebrate. 

“Thank you for saying yes.” 

She hums and pulls back to look at him, wiping a stray tear from his cheek, “There was never any other answer.” 

They stay kneeling like that for a while, huddled together on the floor as they exchange kisses and ‘I love yous’, lost in their own world. Eventually, he pulls back from her, standing up and purposely ignoring the mischievous tint to her smile when his knees pop. He offers her a hand and helps her up.

“As much as I would love to stay in here all night,” he says, wrapping his arm around her waist, “I think we’ve kept them waiting long enough. Penelope’s excitement is probably outshining Jack’s.”

“Jack is here?” She asks excitedly, looking forward to seeing the little boy.

Aaron nods and places his hand on the small of her back, a space that seemed to have been carved out perfectly to fit his palm, “Who do you think helped me pick out the ring?” 

She presses her lips together in a failed attempt to stop herself from smiling, her cheeks aching with happiness as she shakes her head at him, “Have I mentioned that I love you?” 

He shrugs playfully, “It’s come up,” he stamps a kiss against her lips and links his hand through hers, ready to lead her towards the conference room, “Come on, Dave bought the best champagne money can buy.” 

She bites her lip and stays still, tugging on his arm as he tries to walk away. Nervous excitement bubbles in her chest, and whilst this hadn’t been the way she’d planned to tell him, she knew it was the perfect way. 

“I can’t have any champagne,” she says coyly, her eyes fixed on his as he furrows his brow, “Not for the next several months.” 

His eyes go wide as it clicks into place, and the laugh that escapes him is full of wonder and joy. He scoops her up into his arms, holding her so tightly her feet leave the ground. 

When the rest of the team hears the joyful laughter from a few rooms down the hall, they pop the champagne, all pleased with their involvement in what they assume their friends are celebrating. 

-x-

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[sayafics]

Just For A Moment - Part 3

Hi guys, I just wanted to say thank you for the support! I enjoy seeing you guys comment asking for more, it makes me feel very appreciated and I am very happy there are people out there who enjoy my writing.

I do hope you guys enjoy part 3, it really is a big mix of emotions. I know you guys really enjoyed part 2, so I hope I did this chapter justice. Thank you, again <3333

Part 1

Part 2

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Masterlist

The words had caught both Jay and Hailey off guard, the revelation that she knew their secret caused the blood to drain from Jay's face as he was at a loss for words.

She knew.

She knew.

This whole time, she knew, and she never said a word. She let herself suffer quietly.

He looked at the tears that streamed down her face, her wide eyes and trembling hands - he broke her. There was no other way to put it, she seemed fearful of even breathing in his presence.

Perhaps that was the worst part - Aurora was not only angry or disappointed. No, she was also terrified of being hurt by him. Again.

The question came out before he could stop it, making himself seem like an even bigger fool as everyone in the bar sent pitying looks towards Aurora, he asked, "how?" How did she know? Did she see them? Hear a rumour? See their texts?

If he could take back the question, he would.

If he could take back his actions, he would.

Aurora simply shook her head, the action causing her tears to fall more vigorously as a strained laugh escaped her. She stumbled backwards, heading towards the exit before Jay could stop her once more. On her way out, her heart heavy with unease and agony, she whispered an apology to Brett. But it seemed Brett and her friends were more concerned for the girl than the interrupted party.

Hailey's hand was still on his back. The feeling of her palm against him began to burn, and he wrenched himself away from her touch, away from her side. And he went after Aurora.

He pushed through the crowd, ignoring the looks of betrayal on the faces of his teammates, the look of disappointment in the eyes of his friends, and most of all, the petulant voice of Hailey who called after him in indignation.

Jay had found Aurora at her car, hands fumbling with the keys as she struggled to see through her tears. He raced towards her, his heart on fire at the sound of her muffled sobs. He reached around her, a hand wrapping itself around one of her own and her set of keys.

"You can't drive like this, Aurora. Baby, it's not safe. Please."

The feeling was so familiar to Aurora, his warm embrace and loving touch - a sensation she had begun to crave when she first gave into her heart's desires and let Jay into her life. And for a moment, she lost herself in the nostalgia, in the feeling of him being so close to her after feeling nothing for so long.

But the sound of a disgruntled blonde had followed Jay out of Molly's, the woman thrown off by the glares and judgements handed down to her from friends and colleagues. Hailey had left the bar hoping to convince Jay to come back home with her, to let her lick his wounds as he did her's. To reassure him that they would get through this and be stronger as one, and in time, everyone would forget what had happened and accept them.

It just so happened that Jay had his own idea of how things should play out, and they did not include Hailey.

The sound of her voice calling out his name brought back the memories of that night, of her lover pressed up against another, lost in the pleasures of his own unforgiveable actions. And just like that, Jay's touch had lost all its warmth.

Because the Jay that stood in front of her, a pleading grip on her hands, was not the Jay she had said yes to all those months ago - no, she had lost her Jay. And not when he had decided to sleep with Hailey, she had lost her Jay the moment Hailey joined the Intelligence Department.

As ignorant as he may be to it, and despite all the denial his heart may be full of, Jay Halstead was intrigued by Hailey, he has been since the moments she climbed up those stairs and helped them on their first case.

Aurora couldn't compete with that. Can't compete with that.

She wishes she could. Wishes her eyes shone like Hailey's so Jay could lose himself in them, wishes her hair was brighter than Hailey's so she could stand out like her, wishes she wasn't so extraordinarily plain that Jay's betrayal to her was so easy.

Jay's words snapped her out of her thoughts, his voice pushing her to pull her hand out of his grasp, but his grip was relentless - "I'm so sorry, Rory."

Aurora couldn't help the strangled cry that escaped her at the sound of that name, a name he would whisper into the darkness, hidden behind his confessions of love and admiration. She shook her head, "no, you're not. You're sorry you got caught."

Her voice was raw and exhausted. She had worn herself out holding all these feelings inside of her and pretending everything was okay. And now that the truth was out, she felt herself full of dread and weariness.

Jay shook his head vehemently, ignoring the way Hailey shuffled to his side, hoping to interject, "no. No, no, no. It was a mistake. I love you. I'm so sorry, there's no excuse but it was one time and I regret it every day."

The confession had deflated every ounce of ego Hailey had previously held, "you regret it?"

Hailey's eyes were painted in disbelief, but Jay met her head-on, his eyes empty as he regarded her - "I wish I didn't touch you that night. I wish I didn't let you in."

Hailey could feel her eyes well with tears, taking a glance towards the bar her heart beat faster in mortification when she saw that the three of them had an audience.

She tried to scrape up any sense of decency she had left, no longer able to look Jay or Aurora in the eyes as she cleared her throat, her voice oddly quiet, "I'm going to go."

As she left, she couldn't help but throw glances over her shoulder, hoping one of them would meet Jay's and the sight of her in anguish would cause him to come running back.

That didn't seem to be the case, as Jay's eyes were glued to the Aurora, who's face twisted in defeat - "if you loved me, you wouldn't have fucked her."

She would repeat it a hundred times if she had to, Jay betrayed her. That wasn't love.

"It was a mistake. I was drunk and she came over, she told me she liked me- she kissed me and- she, I don't know."

"That's not an excuse," her voice broke as she raised it an octave, "Jay you have had weeks to distance yourself from her. You've had weeks to pick the woman you say you love over the woman you fucked. And still, you spent every waking minute with her."

"I was scared," it was a hesitant confession, "I didn't know if you were angry at me because you found out or because I did something wrong. I- I couldn't make sense of it, any of it. But it was wrong of me, I know. I'm so sorry."

"Stop saying that! You keep saying you're sorry, but you've had weeks to be sorry. Why now, Jay? Why apologise now? Why tell me you love me now? Why pick me now?"

Jay couldn't find the words to explain, truthfully he didn't have the words to explain. It was a mistake, but his mistake hurt her in unimaginable ways. And he hadn't made amends after, he didn't tell her the truth, he didn't stay away from Hailey. No, he got pissed off at Aurora instead. God, he was an idiot.

Aurora's eyes flickered between his, as though she was searching for something within them. Her frustration grew when she could not find her answer, and her frustration turned to heartache.

She reached up with her free hand, cradling Jay's face gently. The action prompted him to free her other hand, hopeful she would not run from him. Hopeful she understood and hopeful she had forgiven.

Both her hands came to hold his face, her skin soft against the planes of his jaw and cheeks, her thumbs gently tracing the angles and lines on his face. She pulled him down towards her, leaning up to place her forehead against his, Jay's eyes closed at the sensation as hope simmered in his chest.

"Jay..."

The quiet whisper prompted him to open his eyes, to lose himself in the eyes of the girl who held his heart. Her eyes were drowning, so consumed by emotions, they were red and tired, full of unshed tears as the next words came to her, "was I not enough?"

Jay's eyes shut again, this time in anguish. Try as he might to stop them, tears escaped from his eyes and a stifled cry escaped as he spoke, "you're more than enough, my love. I'm the idiot, I'm the one who's not enough. You're everything to me and more, baby."

"Then why did you hurt me?"

Jay had no answer. It was true, what he had been saying all this time, he had seen Hailey as a friend. That night she came to his apartment, she was upset and in need of support and Jay had one too many beers that he didn't realise she wasn't talking about needing a friend until her lips had pressed against his own.

He lost himself in the feeling of a warm body, lost himself in the feelings of his own desires.

The thoughts tormented him, eating at him and taunting him because he had no excuse. No plausible reason for him to choose Hailey over Aurora. Yet, he still had.

He pulled himself away from Aurora, head shaking forcefully as he tried to get rid of the mocking thoughts. He heard a sniffle behind him, before a shaky sigh was released.

Aurora took his behaviour as an answer in itself, his inability to answer her was more telling than anything else. She composed herself, wiping her tears and steadying her breaths. A grim smile pulled at her lips, "it's okay. I get it. I do."

Aurora wasn't enough.

She unlocked her car and sat inside, reaching out to pull the door shut. She took one final glance at Jay, his back turned towards her as his shoulders were hunched over. Aurora could see how his body wracked at the silent cries he tried to hold back, his guilt overwhelming him.

Goodbye Jay.

***

Jay can't remember how he got home last night. His last traces of those hours began with a firm hand placed on his shoulder, and a glance up confirmed that it was Kevin.

Kevin looked disappointed in Jay's actions, but he could see his friend was in need of support. He couldn't leave Jay to wallow.

Guilt ate at Kevin at the thought, knowing that he and his friends had been more than happy to leave Aurora to her thoughts, and let her be consumed by whatever was troubling her.

Still, he would not repeat his mistakes.

Kevin guided Jay back to Molly's, encouraging him to take a seat. The occupants of the bar stared at him, various glares of anger and disgust were sent his way as he began to drink - one after the other. If it were up to Jay, he would've sat at Molly's drinking until the bar had closed, and when it had he would've gone to find another.

Instead, he was back at his place, waking up to a pounding headache and aching back as he laid astrew on the couch.

Jay moved slow, purposefully ignoring the memories of the night before as they seared themselves into his mind, forcing him to relive the pain and agony he had endured what feels like only moments ago.

Jay walked into his room, getting ready for the day. All the while, he ignored the bed that sat neatly behind him knowing the last person he had there with him was Hailey, on the night he wanted to forget the most.

He had tainted his most revered place, had wiped away Aurora's scent and defiled the place they were most affectionate to each other. The extra space of the bed was supposed to be Aurora's, and he had taken that from her - alongside her heart, which he had broken and burnt.

Time ticked by sluggishly as he drove to the department. His heart skipped beats as he ignored his throbbing head, but his hands felt numb and his head was swimming with dreadful thoughts and possibilities of what would happen when he saw Aurora in only a few short minutes.

Would she look at him with pitiful eyes? Would she make snide remarks? Would she be angry at him? Or would she continue to ignore him, as though he never existed?

The idea of such things happening continued to plague him, his body moving on its own accord as he found himself walking up the stairs to the Intelligence Department. It seemed he was the first one there.

Jay looked towards Aurora's desk, suddenly feeling uneasy and alarmed.

Aurora's desk sat bare, picture frames and trinkets removed leaving the desktop bare. He stumbled his way to the desk, hands almost twitching as he threw open every draw only to find them empty.

His heart lodged itself in his throat, he could feel a familar burn sting at his eyes as he shook his head in denial, "no..."

He continued to mumble to himself as he looked around the office, only for his eyes to land on a small white box on his desk.

The box couldn't have been bigger than the palm of his hand, and worry brewed within him as he began to pull the box apart to reveal its contents.

Inside sat a necklace, it shone gold in the artificial light and as Jay held it up in front of him he could make out the word inscribed on it - Aurora.

Jay had bought it for her a few weeks into them working as partners. It didn't take long for the pair to divulge their secrets and fears, and one of the most memorable ones had been when Aurora had confessed that after all those years she had spent living lives that were not her own, she was troubled by the idea she would no longer remember her name. Her biggest fear was losing herself.

Jay had bought her the necklace the very next day, he had told her as long as she had him he wouldn't let her forget who she was, he wouldn't let her lose herself and Jay promised, as he placed the necklace around her neck, that he would travel to the ends of the world and back to find her, if he needed to.

His hands clenched around the necklace, his face falling as he brought it close to his chest, his knuckles blanching at the force he held them with - she had left her necklace behind, had taken all her stuff.

It only meant one thing.

Jay could feel the urge to look into Voight's office, and a part of him was terrified to face the truth.

But he had to know. He had to know if he lost her, if she was well and truly gone.

And a glance into Voight's office had confirmed exactly that.

***

When the rest of the team had gathered in the office, they had stood frozen by the stairs. They were already worried about the scene they would find when they made their way into the office, wondering how the odd dynamic between Aurora, Jay and Hailey would now work.

It seemed they didn't need to worry about Aurora though, because in Voight's office sat Jay. Alone.

Jay had a haunted look painted across his face, his eyes swollen and red as they looked down passively at the desk, his hands pressed firmly against his chest, as though he was holding something close to his heart.

As the team mads their way closer to Voight's office, their concern for Jay grew stronger. Jay's eyes never strayed from the objects that laid in front of him - your gun, badge and letter of resignation.

You were gone.

You had left.

And it was all Jay's fault.

He made you feel like you were not enough.

Goodbye Aurora.

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

daisy, chapter two

A/N: last sfw chapter before the story takes a very porny turn. run for your life now if that is not your jam

summary: “are we just gonna wander around the woods or did you have a specific place in mind?”

warnings: private school!reader, perv!steve (last time I'm gonna say that it's nearly invisible in this chapter, because you are not even ready for what's in store for just next one.... I am already drooling), skull rock, love confession, kissing

word count: 1520

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“And remember,” your teacher recapped loudly over the commotion the school’s bell had triggered, “read the rest of chapter 12 for next week!”

Zipping your backpack closed, you swung on the heavy bag and ventured forth to the bus stop. Cracking open the thick novel you’d brought with you as entertainment for the ride to and fro, you nearly tripped several times as your nose was instantly buried deep within the pages, immediately sucked back into the mystery you started this morning. 

Trekking by the plethora of parked cars, by now you had already walked this route enough times that you didn’t have to look up anymore in order to know what direction you needed to go. 

“Hey, ace!” the familiar voice ripped you away from the who done it and up to see none other than your best friend, sitting on the hood of his maroon car.

“Steve!” you immediately ran over to hug him, “what are you doing here?”

Hopping off of his waiting spot, he soared into your arms like a magnet, sneaked his fingers under your rucksack, rubbed his large, warm palms over your back, and softly delivered the answer directly in your ear, “I remembered you saying that Thursday was a long day for you, and I wasn’t doing anything,” he pulled back from the embrace, though still kept his fingers entangled with the straps around your shoulders, “so I wanted to come pick you up, maybe drive somewhere, hang out for a bit?”

“Sure, okay,” you happily agreed, his big grin successfully rubbing off on you. 

Flipping down the sun visor, you studied your reflection in the tiny mirror and asked, “hey, do you think I should cut my hair?”

Steve glanced over at you, seeing the way you fluffed and played with your locks, bending it some places to get an idea of how it would look.

“Why? Do you wanna cut your hair?”

“I don’t know,” you pursed your lips and exhaled in a bored fashion, “I just feel like, new school, new me and all that, I should cut my hair.”

Taking his eyes off the road again, he gave you a sincere look, “I like your hair. But if you really wanna cut it, then go ahead.”

“Wow,” you poked his side, seizing the moment to tease, “Steve the hair Harrington likes my hair?”

“Oh, shut up,” he returned his focus to the driving, “you know you’re gorgeous no matter what your hair looks like.”

“So,” you clutched onto his hand as he helped you over the fallen tree trunk, “are we just gonna wander around the woods or did you have a specific place in mind?”

Once both of your feet were safely on the forest floor again, he let go of your fingers, “don’t get your panties in a twist, we’ll be there in a sec.”

Catching up to his long strides, you walked beside him for a bit before timidly inquiring, “can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” he spat out automatically. 

Peeping up at his face for any form of reaction, you asked, “are you okay?”

Furrowing his brow lightly, he glanced your way, “yeah, why?”

Choosing your words carefully, “you just seem a little off…” then bumped the side of your arm softly into his, “you know you can always talk to me, whatever it is, right?”

Wincing slightly, he tried to get ahead of you, effectively obscuring his face, “I don’t know if I can…”

“Why?”

“I just,” he raised a defensive hand, “can’t, okay?”

“Is it about a girl?” you saw his entire body tense up at that, “what, is this one special? Because you’ve never had a problem sharing any of those details with me before. I mean, I know borderline too much about your love life,” you thought back to all of the locker room talk he hadn’t ever shied away from sharing with your innocent little ears.

“I know that, but this one’s different. I can’t talk about her with you.”

Struggling to take your next breath, you swallowed the terrible taste that statement set in your mouth, “okay…” and kept on walking. 

Suddenly, Steve stopped dead in his tracks, and it was only now that you recognised the infamous place he had taken you to. 

“What are we doing here?” you looked up at the ginormous rock and decided to joke, “what do you wanna do? make out?”

Smirking, he boldly chose not to play along, “I mean, it wouldn’t be the first time…”

Try as you might, you never could forget that day. You had both been around 13 and Steve was already quite the little lady killer, never shying away from having a sloppy make-out session with the girl of the month in the middle of the hallway, blocking everyone’s lockers. 

One day he had gotten enough of all of your groaning and small irked comments, that he just asked you flat out, almost as a joke, why you always reacted that way and if it was because you had never kissed anyone before. Your ghostly white face had said everything he needed to know, so that day, after school, he suggested that he could teach you, hopefully making it a bit more fun and less intimidating when you finally got your nose out of those books and found a real date. 

Palms sweating, you’d nervously agreed. It was clumsy, it was probably not even that pretty, but holy fuck did it turn your whole world upside down.

From that moment on you had been absolutely and totally in love with him.

“Oh,” you blushed, then forced out a stiff laugh, “haha, very funny, Steve.”

His own laughter mixed in with yours, obviously finding your palpable flustered appearance cute, “I’ve missed this,” he kicked a few of the dry leaves under his feet. Then his eyes met yours and his laughter melted away into the warmest of smiles, making you quite literally weak in the knees, “I miss you, Y/n.”

Did he just say your name? He never ever called you by your name. With a concerned furrow to your brow, you caught his hand in yours, “I miss you too Steve.”

It all happened so fast. One moment he was just standing there and the next he kissed you. He kissed you. He kissed you. He kissed you. 

Even though it had rushed you like a hunting feline, it turned out to be surprisingly soft and gentle. Much better than how you remembered your exploratory first one to be, but it would have been slightly worrying if he still kissed like that after all of the girls he had dated in the meantime. 

Pulling back, he looked down at your stunned form, waiting for a response. Your hands frozen in his, you fumbled, trying to make heads or tails of what just transpired, “I-…did-, did you just-… what just happened?”

Studying your face closely, he tried softly, “… I just-“

“Yeah, I know,” you cut him off, squeezing your eyes shut so hard that you might never regain the ability to open them again, “why?”

“Because…” he breathily gathered up the courage, “because I love you…”

Blinking up at him you, “what?” as all the air left your lungs. 

“I love you,” he repeated and when you didn’t reply in any way, not even moving one single muscle, he ducked his head down lower, and squeezed your hands, “Y/n? please say something.”

Your name sounded so strange coming from his lips. But the kind of strange that gave you goosebumps. “This doesn't make any sense… when did it even happen?”

Inhaling deeply, he told you, “pretty much the moment I met you… although, it did take me some time to understand what it meant.”

“But,” you shook your head again, “what about all of the girls you’ve dated? Why even do that if you liked me this whole time?”

Catching your chin with his thumb and forefinger, he forced your eyes to lock with his. 

“Why do you think I dated so many girls? To try and get over you. And guess what, it didn’t work. I like you. I love you.” inching in closer and closer till his nose brushed against yours, he asked, intimately sharing your breath, "do you want me to stop?"

Anchoring a hand in his jacket, you clung on as you let go, “no.”

As his lips once again met yours, you couldn’t hold back the whimpering sigh even if you wanted to. In honeyed desperation, you felt his tongue sneak up and dance against yours, making you feel like you might lose your balance. 

Pausing, not nearly long enough to catch your breath, but just enough to change the angle, you begged hungrily against his mouth, “say it again.”

Feeling his lips curl into a smile, he fulfilled your request just before diving in for more, “I love you, ace.”

“Again,” you demanded, practically hanging from his jacket with the way you were pulling on it. 

Keeping his pecks short, he echoed in between every single tingling one of them, “I��love…you…”

next chapter

© 2022 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[youcouldmakealife]

LBTE: Jared (145-146)

In which Jared is suspicious of his good fortune and Bryce is defeated by a tiny little baby.

Going to be daily from this point on, or we ain't getting to the end of these before we get to the end of Impaired Judgment (still might be a close call).

If you want to follow along, the series page is here.

145. Divine Intervention

Title implies Stephen is divine, and he thinks that is only right. (Or that I am, which is true inasmuch as I am absolutely pulling the strings. Well. Sometimes. When they don't wander off on me. It's less like being behind the driver's wheel and more like herding cats.)

Normal doesn’t mean nothing has changed, because of course things have. A few guys have been trying to talk to Jared, invite him out, like now that he’s ‘Bullet’s husband’ to them they have to treat him differently.

How dare they.

He’s sure the team philosophy is ‘if I can’t sleep with my wife/girlfriend when I’m on the road, you sure as shit can’t sleep with your husband’. It’d upset the collective sense of fairness.

Legitimately, though, it would mainly be frowned upon for this reason.

They get teased a bit about how lucky they are on roadies — ‘road head’ was unfortunately uttered and Jared wishes he could scrub that one out of his memory — but Jared notices it’s never when the media’s around, not even when the support staff is, carefully cupped in the palms of the locker room. Maybe Gabe told them all not to say anything. Maybe they already know.

Jared, Bryce didn’t tell you shit about the dynamic in the Flames room until he hit his breaking point, you KNOW shit stays in the locker room.

“Bryce says you’ve been tense lately,” mom says over drinks after dinner. “That you’re expecting everything to backfire on you two.”

Tense is a massive understatement. High strung would be closer, yet still an understatement.

“Okay but it’s not—“ Jared says

“Paranoia when they’re out to get you?” dad asks.

“Don,” mom says. “At least try a little harder with your jokes than going with ‘chain email from the 90s’.”

“It’s not a joke,” dad protests. “It’s true. It’s not paranoia if the things you’re worried about can come true.”

Jared does not want to be on his dad’s side in this.

And yet he thinks he’s on his dad’s side in this.

Jared slowly embracing that he is his father’s son, which is good, because goddamn is he his father’s son, and that’s only going to become more and more evident as he gets older.

“You’re waiting for the other shoe to drop,” Gabe says.

“I mean,” Jared says. “Basically.”

“But it isn’t necessarily going to,” Gabe says. “And even if it is, you can enjoy it in the meantime, you know. Be happy with what you have instead of worrying about it possibly being taken away.”

Jared waves a dismissive hand, and Gabe sighs.

Get this gratitude bullshit out of Jared’s face.

“Jared,” Gabe says. “You’re scaring the rookies.”

“How?” Jared says, then realises he doesn’t care how. They need to toughen up if he’s scaring them without even trying. “Never mind. Who cares.”

The death glare keeps showing up. It’s not aimed at anyone in particular, which means it feels like it’s aimed at everyone.

“Because the rookies need to toughen up,” Jared says.

“Oh yeah?” Bryce asks, mouth tipping up. “I remember you being scared shitless of Mike Brouwer.”

I mean, legitimate fear for a rookie. Unless you’re Liam Fitzgerald, who obviously has no sense of self-preservation whatsoever.

Jared picks at a cut on his knuckle. He’s not sure how he got it. He had his hand jammed against the boards in a scrimmage earlier by Bryce of all people, so probably that. He won’t tell him, though. Bryce will react like he gravely injured Jared and then walk around all day looking like he accidentally stepped on a puppy’s tail.

He would be DEVASTATED.

Not worth it, especially since he’s finally started not actively backpedaling if he’s up against Jared in practice. The team has not been merciful about how easy Bryce goes on him. The chirping has genuinely been impressive.

The phrase ‘love tap’ has lost all meaning, it’s been used so much. With an accompanying leer every time, naturally.

“Did you come here to insult our decor?” Jared asks.

“No, but it’s a nice bonus,” Stephen says, and makes himself comfortable on the couch.

“Why are you here,” Jared repeats. “Oh shit, are you two finally—“

“No,” Stephen says. “Shut up.”

If someone mentions the word marriage to him one more time…

“This is an intervention,” Stephen says. “Gabe’s about to wring your neck, and you know what happens when Gabe wants to wring someone’s neck?”

“You want to wring his?” Jared guesses.

“No,” Stephen says. “Of course not, if he wants to wring someone’s neck I imagine it’s wholly deserved and I become fully prepared to wring that neck for him.”

Gabe’s neck wringing threshold is so far beyond Stephen’s that chances are Stephen would have already committed the act before Gabe even reaches the point where he considers it.

“Did you know that you sigh?” Stephen says. “Dramatically, apparently. Every day. Multiple times. You sigh.”

“Um,” Jared says.

“And Gabe asks what’s the matter,” Stephen says. “And you say ‘nothing’. And then you sigh again. Or sometimes you say ‘you wouldn’t understand’. And then you sigh. For weeks this has been going on. Weeks.”

Not little sighs either. These are big ‘ASK ME WHAT IS WRONG’ sighs. But if Gabe does ask, he gets hand-waved and ‘you wouldn’t understand’ed. He’s very tired.

“You’re moping,” Stephen says. “Why.”

Jared sighs.

“Gabe’s right,” Stephen says. “That’s infuriating.”

One sigh for Stephen to reach the strangling threshold. Gabe’s endured dozens upon dozens of them.

“Here’s your problem,” Stephen says. “You overthink everything, and you have ulterior motives for pretty much everything you do—“

“Hey,” Jared says. “Stop making me sound evil.”

“—and you think that everyone else is like that,” Stephen continues, like Jared didn’t say anything. “But they aren’t, mostly. Some are, but most people don’t think much at all about, well, anything, honestly. Certainly not about you.”

Sounds fake.

“Hard lesson to learn, but it makes shit a lot easier,” Stephen says. “You may be the centre of your own life, but you’re peripheral to everyone else, with very few exceptions. Fewer than you’d think, honestly.”

Don’t worry, Jared, you’re the centre of Bryce’s life too.

“Bryce is admittedly a great player,” Stephen says. “But you two aren’t fresh off a Stanley Cup in the fishbowl of Toronto media. Vancouver’s a media heavy market, but not like Toronto. And again, it’s been a decade, and other players have come out since then. Riley and Lapointe was national news. You guys? It’d be news, for sure, but I think it’d be a smaller ripple than you’d think it is. The people who give a shit, good or bad, they’ll care. But the average person, who cared because Lapointe and Riley were a novel situation? They won’t. Old news.”

Obviously there is a reaction when Bryce and Jared came out, but it's pretty contained to the hockey world (with the addition of some non-hockey fan but very online people).

It was also bigger news than it would have been had they formally come out, because the second people sniff out a cover up, speculation leads to higher engagement. (For a recent RL example, contrast how many people were talking about Milan Lucic versus Corey Perry.)

“You sound like you’ve thought about this,” Jared says.

“Of course I have,” Stephen says. “I’m a player agent whose NHLer boyfriend has my name on all his legal documents and vice versa. You think I haven’t thought any of this through? You think we didn’t weigh unintended consequences carefully before we made every decision about our relationship, including the one to come out to the team? Gabe thinks the best of people, but he’s not naive. And I think everyone sucks, so.”

Truly the mentor Jared deserves.

“Oh no, he’s awful at it,” Stephen says. “You think Gabe doesn’t overthink everything? Gabe’s analytical: he’s good with people because he considers every single possible outcome and prepares for it.”

“I do that too,” Jared says. No wonder they get along.

“Analyzing and being judgmental aren’t the same thing,” Stephen says. “Apparently.”

Most judgmental people don’t bother with the analysis part at all, in my experience.

“That one was Dmitry, weirdly,” Stephen says. “He gets quite philosophical sometimes. Usually if pot is involved. Especially edibles. I can’t believe you’re giving me that look. It’s legal. And you live in BC. Have you seriously never—”

Jared are you being judgmental again.

Also, for reference: British Columbia has a reputation for being a province full of pot smoking hippies. Which is saying something when Canada legalised recreational marijuana nationwide. (Though that reputation did precede legalisation by decades.)

“Not smoking pot to chill,” Jared says. “Not happening.”

“You’d probably just get paranoid anyway,” Stephen mutters. “More paranoid.”

He’d be fucking hilarious is what he’d be. (Also probably paranoid! More paranoid.)

“Caution’s understandable,” Stephen is. “It is. I’m never going to be the one to tell you to throw caution to the wind or whatever the hell careless people say. But when caution overtakes your happiness, it’s no longer helpful. You just — you have an NHL career. You live with your handsome, talented, adoring husband, like — truly adoring, that man does not think you have faults.”

I continue to be proud of Bryce for no longer arguing when Jared refers to himself as mean.

“And that team supports you,” Stephen says. “Which — there are much less supportive environments than this in the league, you know that firsthand. And I get that’s going to make you wary and think this might be too good to be true, but that’s not — sometimes you just get lucky, Jared. There isn’t some cosmic balance where some higher power’s like, ‘wait, things are too good for Jared, time to shit on him to even things out a bit’.”

Sometimes a higher power does have to do that, though. For narrative reasons.

“You didn’t toss your hair once,” Jared observes. “Can we really call this a proper intervention without hair tossing?”

“I have to be sparing with it,” Stephen says. “Or it won’t have the desired effect anymore.”

Stephen has retained the lesson.

“Is the desired effect people thinking you look like a nervous horse?” Jared asks.

Jared you are so lucky to have friends.

“I don’t know why I’m about to offer this, because you’re a horrible little gremlin,” Stephen says. “But if it helps I can go over scenarios you’re the most worried about and make sure your agents have solid action plans prepared if they do come to pass.”

This is literally the nicest thing anyone could offer Jared right now. He really hates feeling unprepared.

“But I just called you a nervous horse,” Jared says.

He does not deserve Stephen’s offer at all. And knows this.

He’s systematic about absolutely everything — paper trails, photographic evidence, cell records, digital paper trails. He’s not snide for once, no matter what Jared says, just keeps his head down, hair in his face, writing in a messy scrawl Jared knows better than to comment on, because Stephen may be left handed now, but Jared doesn’t think he always was.

He was not originally left-handed, no.

(No snide with clients, and right now he’s in work mode)

“I sigh, apparently,” Jared says. “I hear it’s really annoying.”

“It’s not annoying,” Bryce says. “I just want you to be happy.”

‘The man does not think you have faults’.

“Worried, I know,” Bryce says. “And like, I get it, obviously. I’ve been on this end too. I just want you to be happy.”

Big earnest eyes. Just telling Jared he wants to be happy. Bryce could weaponise this if he tried, but of course he never would.

My sweet, earnest boy.

“I am,” Jared says. “I am happy. It’s not that I’m not happy, it’s that I keep like, being happy, and then I’m like — suspicious of how happy I am, I don’t know.”

Bryce blinks at him.

“I know how absurd it sounds,” Jared lets him know.

“That’s the most Jared thing I’ve ever heard,” Bryce says.

“Hey,” Jared protests. He can’t just call it a Jared thing right after Jared tells him it’s absurd. Even if it’s absurd. And admittedly kind of a Jared thing.

‘I agree with everything you said, but also: how dare you.’

“45 and Hammer asked if I wanted to come over and play FIFA with them tonight,” Bryce says.

45 is not for the number. Colton has the nickname due to the very famous 19th century handgun the Colt .45. He's called 45 for short.

Hammer (for the surname Hammond) is the one Jared refers to as Langley (another nickname of his, because he’s from Langley, British Columbia, which is a town in the Metro Vancouver area. Local boy, just like Bryce.). Hammer/Langley is the one whose comments Jared and Gabe overheard ‘I’m not homophobic, but I don’t get Math and Bullet. Math’s mean.’

They are attached at the hip; live together, room together, sit together.

Jared will be bad at it, and he doesn’t like being bad at things

You don’t say.

Bryce looks hopeful. Transparently hopeful, those big earnest eyes on him.

“Sounds fun,” Jared lies, and Bryce’s grin practically splits his face.

Soooooft.

Bryce getting to Vancouver-adjustment-them coming out to the team is the shortest arc of the ‘verse, but definitely its own thing, tonally. The arc of ‘everything is unnervingly good and everyone is unnervingly nice (except for Holden Chase)’

Now we jump to...the shoulder, the blanket, and the gaffe.

146. Forbearance

“Murder him dead,” Jared says. “Stone cold.”

“The guys might have a problem with that,” Gabe says. “Leading scorer and all.”

“I don’t care,” Jared says. “Do you think Stephen would help me hide the body?”

“Probably,” Gabe says.

Love Gabe’s pragmatism in the face of Jared's death threats. And of course Stephen would, but you just know it’d be ‘remember that time I helped you hide a body?’ every time he needed a favour, or, you know, just to annoy him, until Jared killed him. (But then who would help Jared hide HIS body? Or save him from Gabe?)

Jared gets it. He does. Bryce is frustrated, and feeling helpless, and in a lot of pain. He had some modified training, things he could do without the use of his shoulder, but it was severely limited compared to his usual summer training, and not even close to enough to burn off all the shit feelings he’s been carrying around. And all those shit feelings are twisted up inside him and driving him nuts.

And he’s driving Jared nuts.

Bryce is BORED. And Jared’s never really been around bored Bryce before — first their relationship was brand new, and then they were long distance, so even if Bryce was dealing with boredom in the day to day (say, contract talks), Jared was exciting! But right now Bryce is bored, and restless, and most of the things he would typically do when bored or restless are off-limits. And Bryce doesn’t really have a high frustration tolerance. At all.

The circumstances of the injury probably didn’t help. Bryce doesn't really deal well with humiliation. He doesn’t like it when people laugh at him. Another understatement. And people are laughing. It’s more in a ‘wow, that’s some seriously shitty luck, man’, not a ‘haha loser’ way, though Jared is pretty sure Bryce is taking it as the latter. And to be fair, how many people throw out their shoulder while babysitting? And not even like, a rambunctious toddler or something. A baby. He was babysitting a baby. Who can’t even hold up her own head yet.

It is objectively funny that Bryce was taken out by a baby. But also a sign of the kind of shape Bryce’s shoulder was in by that point. Periodically, throughout IJ(aoe), Bryce has had shoulder injuries. Jared never really specifies which, but they have always been the same shoulder. And he’s always returned to the ice before it was 100%. Or even 90%. Sometimes before 70%.

Chaz feels guilty, which is utterly absurd. Maia’s like, ten pounds. Bryce could have just as easily done something to his shoulder carrying groceries, or, hell, grabbing a glass from a cupboard. Or, most obviously: at some point in summer training, which is a hell of a lot more strenuous than babysitting Chaz and Ashley’s kid. Jared has told him. Bryce has told him. Jared even asked Ash to whisper it to him in his sleep to see if it sinks in, but she just said ‘what sleep are you referring to, Jared?’ and Jared figured it was a bad idea to retort to a sleep-deprived new parent.

Good call on the last thing, Jared. And yes, Chaz is currently exhausted (training AND a baby) and has responded slightly irrationally to the situation.

Bryce is hiding in the guest room when Jared gets back home, and doesn’t peek his head out. He could be napping, there has been a whole lot of napping lately, so Jared doesn’t check on him. He’s bad enough without adding ‘cranky because Jared woke him up’ to the mix.

Jared would argue he also has a baby right now.

Jared’s just sat down with a glass of water when Bryce drifts in, arm in a sling, and sighs explosively in Jared’s direction, then exits. Gabe invited both of them to that lunch. He could have come, but he said he was ‘tired’ and ‘not in the mood’ and that Jared should ‘go have fun’.

A sulky silence is his only answer when Jared reminds Bryce of that fact.

“Then did you literally just come into the living room to make sure I know you’re bored and annoyed?” Jared asks. “Because I am well aware!”

Or a teenager.

So apologetic Chaz: out. Jared can’t vent to Ash, because she’s stressed out as fuck. Raf is too nice to commiserate with. Ditto Grace. Julius was good at first, but now he won’t pick up Jared’s calls or answer his texts except to say ‘busy!’. Stephen’s out for obvious reasons. Gabe is a good ear, but Jared shouldn’t push it, considering the Stephen thing. Erin’s Team Bryce always. Elaine is Elaine.

You know that Jared has discovered all of these things from direct experience.

“I don’t want to hear it,” his mom says when she picks up the phone.

“Hi mom, how are you,” Jared says.

“Great,” mom says. “I don’t want to hear it. Complain to your dad.”

Susan also has some recent experience with the venting.

Jared stares at his phone, betrayed, then calls his dad. Obviously his dad will be up for Bryce bitching.

“Hi bud,” his dad says. “Calling to complain about Bryce?”

As has Don.

Jared gets twenty minutes of updates about every single family member he has. And family friends. And acquaintances. And some of the fellow Canucks dads he met on the Dad’s Trip. And people Jared hasn’t even heard of and is suspicious may not actually exist. He thinks he’s being punished, though he’s not sure why.

This is exactly what Jared deserves.

“How’re you guys?” his dad finally asks.

“Well—“ Jared starts.

“And I don’t want to hear about Bryce’s sulking,” dad says.

Jared just listened to shit about every single person dad knows for twenty minutes and he doesn’t even get to talk about Bryce’s sulking? This is bullshit.

EXACTLY what Jared deserves. Don is very proud of himself right now.

Jared has to commiserate with someone.

“Do you know who the most annoying person alive is?” Jared asks.

“Is it me?” Bryce mumbles.

JARED MATHESON.

“I don’t want it anymore,” Bryce says.

“You have to have it to take your pills,” Jared says.

“I don’t want them,” Bryce says.

Jared takes a slow breath in rather than arguing. That’s what his mom said to do before she stopped taking his calls. “I’ll just leave it beside the bed, then,” he says.

“I don’t want it,” Bryce says, then whines, “Jared!” when Jared puts it down. “I don’t want it. Take it away.”

Jared’s complaining is slightly over the top, but Bryce is, indeed, being a giant pain in the ass right now.

Julius screens his call. Jared knows this because Julius texts ‘I screened your call’

I love Julius so.

[postwarlevi]

Arise

content: over 1.3 words of unedited suggestable fluff, helping Levi get ready in the morning

"Come on sweetheart." You're in bed, leaning over your partner who has just slept through his alarm three times.

Levi mumbles but doesn't move. You smile and kiss his shoulder and neck and are suddenly being wrapped up in his embrace, making you giggle.

"I'm so tired." He says, snuggling into you.

"I know, but after today you have three whole days off." You remind him as your fingers caress his cheek.

"Just five more minutes." He isn't ready yet.

Levi has been working a lot of overtime the past two weeks with no days off in between, and his insomnia has finally been pushed aside due to exhaustion.

"You're already running late. Come on, I'll get your things ready for a shower." You pull yourself out of his grip while he sighs dramatically.

"You're so mean." He doesn't actually mean it, and it makes you chuckle.

Truthfully, even though you have work most days too, you've been very supportive and have taken good care of him, even when he's come home late every night. It's the least you can do as he always takes care for you.

"Oh, am I now?" You ask playfully, pulling the covers away from him and pulling him upright.

Levi finally opens his eyes, blinking multiple times at the light.

He shakes his head. "No, not really." He leans forward to try to cuddle you and you move out of his reach.

"Come on love, shower time." You head towards the bathroom, sure that he'll follow shortly.

Levi sheds his night clothes and steps into the warm shower that you have put to the exact right temperature for him.

In the meantime you lay out his clean clothes, take the dirty ones up and make the bed.

"Thank you." You hear from behind as a damp Levi calls to you from the bathroom.

"You're welcome. Dry off, I'll get your tea." You had put it on after the first alarm went off, and it should be just to his liking right about now.

Heading to the kitchen you pour the tea into his favorite cup just as a stylish Levi comes in and slumps into the chair.

"You still tired?" You ask softly, pushing the cup towards him.

Levi takes a few sips and let's out a breath. "Less so." He looks up at you lovingly, and you scratch under his chin. He closes his eyes and leans into your palm.

"Freshly shaved." You note the whiskers you felt earlier are gone.

"You like it better." He might leave it more often but he knows it's not your favorite.

You kiss his forehead. "Drink up, I'll get your lunch."

"Thanks." He adores the sweet smile you give as you turn to get his bento box ready.

"I promise I'll make it up to you." Levi can't help it. Though he loves when you take care of him, he likes it best when he can do it for you.

"It's okay. I know." It is rare you get to pamper him and savor this time.

He sits watching you for a few more moments before coming over and wrapping his arms around your waist, kissing your neck, completely interrupting your actions when you squeal in delight from his touch.

You turn around and plant a slow kiss on his lips, careful not to put your hands anywhere they could stain his fresh outfit.

"Levi!" You giggle when you pull away. "Come on, you're already late." You point to the wall clock.

"So what? Let's just stay home." He leans in for another kiss and you shift your head so he gets your cheek.

"Stop it. Tomorrow we'll do whatever you want. Today? You go to work mister." You say sternly.

Levi raises an eyebrow. "Whatever I want?" He grins at your laugh, and you bump your hip into him.

"Go run a comb through your hair. I'm almost done." Somehow his hair always seems to look perfect already, but you've got to get him moving out the door.

"Yes ma'am." He jokes, giving your hip a squeeze before going back into the bathroom.

You stand there with a smile on your face for a moment, going back to finish his lunch, grabbing a sticky note and a pen.

You just get everything together when Levi comes back in.

"Hey, what's that?" He asks as he sees the small yellow paper just before you snap the box closed.

"Part of your lunch." You pat the box, going into the fridge.

"But I want it now." He says like a child, shoulders falling. Your notes are his favorite part of his work day.

"No, you'll wait." You insist, pulling out the overnight oats. "And eat your breakfast soon." You give him directions. You don't want him skipping it in favor of lunch. He should he able to get it down in just a few minutes at his desk.

"Okay." He promises, watching you put everything into a lunch bag.

Levi really wants nothing more than to call off today and spend the day showing you how much he appreciates everything you do for him and how much you mean to him. But he knows it's just one more day.

You turn towards him again and blush at the look you see. "Levi." You say almost as a warning.

He shakes his head and wipes the tempting look off his face. "Sorry."

You curl your finger, motioning for him to come closer.

He shuffles over and puts his arms around your waist again, as yours go wround his neck.

"One more day sweetheart. I have some work to do today, but I'll make you an amazing dinner tonight, and I promise, the next three days are all yours."

"That sounds like a good offer." He kisses your mouth briefly.

"You're such a good boy." You smirk at the look this gives Levi.

"Don't do that." He groans, pushing himself away from you, because otherwise he won't be able to.

"Shall I save it for tomorrow?" You give a suggestive sensual smile, batting your eyes.

Levi nods, crashing his mouth back into yours. "Yes, all of it. I'm not letting you out of bed. You hear me?" He whispers against your mouth.

"I look forward to it." And with that you hand him his bag. "Get going, working man. Come home to me quick."

You move to get his keys and jacket as well, resting the jacket over his shoulder and pushing the keys into his free hand.

Levi hums. "How'd I get so lucky?" He still doesn't know.

"I ask myself that every day." You kiss his cheek and go stand at the front door.

Levi gives you another fond look. If only everyone else knew for all the irritable looks he gives to them, he saves all of his softness for you. Chances are some of his friends have a good idea, anyway.

"I love you." Levi gives you one last cheek kiss before heading out.

"I love you too. Have a good day. Eat your breakfast." You remind him, earning you another smile.

"I will." He calls to you, settling in for his drive to work.

You shut the door behind him and stand by the open window, blowing him a kiss when he looks up.

You wait for him to leave the driveway before going about your day, making sure everything is ready for when Levi comes home tonight.

Once at work Levi eats like you told him before starting in, but he can't stop himself from also opening his bento box for your sticky note.

He stares down at it, trying to keep himself composed. You can't wait for his three days off either, it seems.

He sends you a quick text, tattling on himself that he's seen your note.

"How dare you write this." How's he supposed to work?

You send him an innocent smiley back. "Told you not to read it yet."

Levi smiles to himself as he puts his phone down and cleans his desk area.

Oh how he can't wait to get home.

a/n- The title is eh, but I got this out real quick before work. Sorry for any mistakes. Enjoy!

[furenlvr]

Shameless smut TW 🔞

Characters: Pantalone x Fem!Reader

Tags: first time, emotional trauma, from enemies to lovers, author is a hopeless romantic

Kinks: name kink, master kink

‘Do you understand what you’re asking for? I want to make love to you gently. Once I do it rough, there will be no going back. Are you sure you can handle me?’

***

‘I take it you received my letter? Good.’

It was a snowy day when you caught up with Pantalone. You were walking down the stone bridge crossing the icy lake. His hand was in yours so that your fingers intertwined. However, since he was constantly wearing his gloves, a part of you felt not enough of his touch. You’d secretly like it very much if he were to hold you with his bare hands. It kept you wondering whether his fingers were as icy as his usual demeanour. As he was gripping your hand you were occasionally glancing down at where your hands were connected.

He was a man of actions more than words, so such physical touch as fingers intertwined was one of his affection languages. As he asked you a question you replied almost immediately with a hint of smile.

‘I read it a few times and I think…’ you paused and Pantalone stopped walking too, seeing your obvious hesitation.

‘What do you think? I believe I am straightforward enough with you, so I would appreciate it if you were honest too.’

‘Well, it would be not so appropriate of me to suggest something blunt.’

It was a rather vulgar letter that you received not many days ago. Pantalone was confessing to you about his fervent thoughts which made your face go deep shade of red. In that letter he stated how frustrating it became for him to only dream of you, and if earlier it was much easier for him to just palm himself, it had become rather exhausting recently (both to his body and mind) to do it without you. He said he would be damned to let go of his idea of pursuing you, and the longer he knew you, the harder it became for him to suppress his lust.

‘However I don’t want to be an appropriate lady now.’

Just hearing you, Regrator looked you in the eyes, and his smirk grew wider.

‘It is common knowledge that we didn't get along well at first. I misjudged you. I think we might have even unintentionally hurt each other. And I regret it.’

These words pierced into your heart sharp and you could not hold back your tears that you immediately wiped away with your free hand.

‘…Me too.’

‘Come now’, even though you tried to hide your feelings as fast as possible, Pantalone’s sharp eyes caught the glimmer of tears in the corners of your eyes. He took your free hand in his, stopping you from any movement. ‘I know when you’re trying to be tough. It’s unnecessarily now.’

‘I didn’t want to embarrass myself, but it seems already too late’, you responded quietly.

‘It’s not true. You’re not embarrassing at all.’

Pantalone slid his fingers up and down your hand, caressing it with soothing motion.

‘I was never known for affection. In fact, I don’t think I am capable of being warm at all’, he then moved the lock of your hair out of your cheek and leaned closer. His voice was but a raspy whisper. ‘But you dug into me so deep and made me feel things I never thought I’d be able to feel’, he let out a shaky breath and moved even closer. ‘Right now you seem upset and I don’t even know what to say because of how difficult it is for me to support someone.’

‘I am not upset, it is just shocking to me how we got along after bickering like cat and dog all the time.’

Pantalone looked at you with curiosity.

‘Actions speak louder than words. Perhaps it would be easier for me to show you how instead…’

Not long after he said that, Pantalone plumped his lips against yours. His hands travelled down your spine until they landed above your hip. He pulled away for a quick moment just to peak at your reaction before bringing himself onto your lips as the wet kisses continued. As he was embracing you tighter and pulling you closer, his touch was becoming more possessive. Your bodies were in heat and you could feel him pushing himself to the limits while he slowly but precisely devoured your lips.

Just when he slipped his tongue across your lower lip, you took it as a sign and opened your mouth wider to ‘invite’ him. It took him off guard and he whispered into your mouth:

‘So impatient.’

Just as you provided him with easier access, Pantalone forced his tongue inside your mouth and touched your own. You felt his hands wander over your hips until he made an attempt to squeeze your butt. However, as quickly as he did that, you grabbed his hands and started pulling off his gloves.

‘Get rid of these. I want to see your hands.’

‘Unnecessary’, he said coldly, regaining his breath, but did not protest when you removed them. Pantalone let out a groan of disapproval when you grabbed his hands closer and saw his aging marks. These aging marks were a reminder of his hard physical work and lately — handling the paperwork.

‘Do they bother you?’

‘No.’

His face slightly softened when he heard you.

‘Now you see a little bit more of me… Wait, what are you—’

You grabbed his hands and put them around your hips. You wanted to act honestly and out of your heart when you were here with him, both of your souls naked. Thus, you gave him pretty blunt instructions.

‘Squeeze my damn butt.’

Pantalone rapidly pulled you closer and his hot breath hit your neck. There was a sense of animality, almost overwhelming lust within him.

‘Don’t push your luck’, he squeezed your arse firmly and let out a silent, yet soft, sigh. ‘Damn it…’

You suppressed a gasp that would have left your lips when he touched you like that.

‘W-what?’

‘You’re perfect.’

He intended to devour your lips, your neck and your collarbone even more but stopped when you gently pressed your fingers against his shoulders.

‘Let’s go somewhere… I don’t know where. I can’t really suggest, it would be indecent.’

He considered your words for a moment before taking your hands in his once again.

‘As much as I don’t care if anyone sees us, I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable afterwards if we got under gossips’, he closed his eyes and let out a long hot sigh. It was apparent how strongly he held back himself. It was even more apparent when he voiced it:

‘We should not linger anymore. I can barely…’, pant, ‘control myself. And you, letting me grab your ass like that, did not make it any easier.’

*** (NSFW PART)

You were seated on the table in the hotel room when Pantalone was getting rid of his layers of clothes one by one. Pantalone looked at you —you were still in the dress, yet he couldn't help but glancing at your neat breasts pointing through the thin fabric of the dress from time to time. The view of your body made him so aroused that it almost hurt his lower areas just how insufferable the pants rubbed against his skin. Yet he had to restrain himself. He had still patience left to not take you completely now. He unbuttoned his shirt and put it somewhere near.

You smirked at him mischievously:

‘What? Aren’t you playing a “master in the bedroom” with me?’

Pantalone narrowed his eyes, grinning, as he slowly approached you and pressed his hands by the both sides of the table, trapping you.

‘I was thinking of such roleplay, however…’

You raised your eyebrows. Pantalone was burning with raw passion, however he still managed to not be a complete beast with you.

‘However?..’

‘However…’ he lingered, and afterwards you did not let him think.

‘Rip this fragile dress.’

‘That would be highly unconscionable of me. It costs too much.’

‘It would be even more unconscionable if you kept torturing me (us) any longer.’

Pantalone’s look dropped on your shoulders, where the dress straps were and with one single motion he pulled it away.

The dress tore apart, loud sound of fabric filled the room for a second. The dress (or what was left of it—) dropped down the floor and before your feet.

It took him everything to not let out a gasp when he saw your bare shape.

Pantalone cupped your breasts and squeezed it slightly. You wanted to hide your reddened appearance but he wouldn't let you, would he?

Pantalone forced his tongue into your mouth, first in the sessions moaning into the kiss. He kept squeezing your breasts gently, his fingers scratched your nipples lightly. He moved to your body closer and forced your legs spread open with his knee.

‘Open for me… dear…’ he said, interrupting the fierce dance of your tongues.

He pulled your panties, which were hanging on your ankle already, and dropped it to the side.

As he was touching your tongue with his own, you felt how passionate his movements had become and sensed it was unbearable for him to keep it this way. He wanted more, he needed more. You pulled away from the kiss and your eyes met.

You stared intently. There was a long, painful pause.

But catching his emotions right in the eyes you finally spoke:

‘Do you want me?’

He shook his head, snickering:

‘I want you so bad, that my mind has gone blank and I only see you in front of me.’

Rapidly, he kissed you again, biting your lower lip.

‘I want to fuck you so hard.’

‘I know you do. I want you to.’

‘Such a candid reply… Do you understand what you’re asking for? I want to treat you gently, but at the same time, I…’ he was on the verge of irritation and didn't finish the sentence, instead kissing your neck to distract. His kisses were now edging between pain and pleasure. You had a feeling such touches would leave hickeys on the next morning.

He kissed your neck, your shoulder, your collarbone. The touches were so eager and hungry you might have actually lost consciousness of such tension.

Pantalone’s wet trace of lips stopped right near your stomach when he sighed.

‘My dear. You have captivated my mind, heart and soul. There would be no greater pain than knowing I might’ve hurt you. Please, do bear in mind once I do it as rough as I want, there will be no going back. Are you sure you can handle me? I might not be holding back and take you to the brim.’

You caught a lock of his hair and said decisively:

‘I can handle that, as long as you are the one doing it.’

‘I would not let anyone else do this to you,’ his grip on your hips tightened. He slowly exhaled and suggested gently: ‘You asked me about the ‘Master in the bedroom’. Are you ready to obey me and follow my instructions?’

You raised your eyebrows and nodded quickly.

‘Of course... I am all yours.’

‘Good’, he made himself comfortable between your thighs and hips and ordered: ‘Don’t move.’

You did as told however you couldn't predict the gentlest movement of his when he opened your outer lips with his thumbs and—

‘Ah!’

That gasp was the only thing you were capable of right now as his tongue drew a wet line all over your pussy. Instinctively, you placed your hand on his head and gripped his hair. You forgot how to breathe…

Pantalone raised his eyes and stopped for a moment just to see your face.

‘M-m… the expression you make’, he said just before licking his way up and down, and then in circular motion while keeping your outer skin open with his thumbs. The wet noises you heard from your body was insufferably embarrassing to hear, but blinded with satisfaction you chused to ignore it.

He didn't touch your clitoris — not yet — and goodness you were grateful for it! Your body was too sensitive right now, and applying pressure there would crash you completely. Instead, he played with the speed and pressure to other nerve endings.

‘You taste divine,’ he whispered with his mouth full. All you could do was receive and moan with your head slightly tilted back.

‘Should I insert a finger into here?’

‘Pantalone, please.’

‘Good’, his smirk widened as he forced a finger inside your tight hole, ‘Wet and impatient, look at yourself.’

Your thighs trembled and you gasped again when he started stimulating your clitoris.

‘Pantalone-’ you moaned.

‘Shut up,’ he kept licking your juices with a rather rapid motion, torturing you immensely.

Your body, although enjoyed, yet spasmed on top of the table. The things his hands were doing! Your shameless moans must have been heard to everyone in the hotel.

‘Let me smooch, and lick, and peck your delicate pussy while my finger is stretching your tight wet hole.’

A few drops fell down your thighs and onto the floor.

His words were so embarrassing to you, you wanted to cover his mouth with a rag but that was a moment when he denied your orgasm and pulled away, breathing loudly and heavily.

‘I’ll be damned’, he pulled his trousers and underwear simultaneously down and leaned to your ear, whispering what seemed quite seductively.

‘Are you ready for me?’ his hand slid down your waist and lifted you off the table.

‘Are we making it to the bed?’

He was already unwrapping the protection.

No.

He pushed you against the wall near the table, his arms strong enough to prevent you from falling.

‘No, we won’t make it… to the bed— oh,’ he let out a shaky moan as he took himself in hand and filled you to the brim.

As his shaft slid so easily into you, both of you froze, just getting used to the new senses. Soon enough you realised how well your bodies fit each other and there was no effort, no pressure into pushing his cock deep inside you. Pantalone’s eyes widened and a blush spread across his pale face.

‘Fuck…’ he held you in place tightly and looked you in the eyes most seriously, ‘Don’t move.’

‘I might fall…’

‘You won’t fall as long as I…’ he gasped shakily and pounced it against you, ‘hold you, and pound you… thrust into you, and…’ he thrusted a little more rougher this time, ‘…fuck you.’

His senses became blurry and Pantalone almost felt drunk at this point. You felt drunk no less than him, as the pleasure completely, utterly fulfilling you was your only priority now.

His eyes widened even more now as he pressed you tightly against the wall and panted into the shall of your ear.

‘Put your hands around my neck. Quickly!’

You did exactly that: your fingers wrapped around his hot, reddened skin tracing along some of his birthmarks which constructed uknowable constellations. Pantalone adjusted his body right and started thrusting into you with a steady rhytm. His strokes were so precise and accurate that you barely had time to think about something else. Expressing his raw desire for you, he sank his teeth in your neck.

‘I can’t wait anymore. My dear, let me take you’, he said just that, gasping with each time his shaft cherished your insides.

‘I’m yours’, you panted, ‘Pantalone.’

‘Say my name again.’

You whimpered to his touch, but still said:

‘P-pantalone…’

‘And again.’

‘Pantalone!’

He let out a low moan and started pounding you fast enough to make your mind go blank in the face of passion. The sounds of his hips hitting against you, attacking your body with his desire were loud enough to hear from the other room. His cock twitching inside you, touching you in the deepest areas ever imaginable.

He raised his thumb to caress your lower lip gently before he pushed two fingers of his into you mouth and without a word, you sucked on his fingertips. He shut his eyes and kept pounding into you while you held his neck tightly.

Once his movements became almost unbearably rough for you (he warned you about it), you gripped his hair and pulled it, receiving a low grunt.

‘Fuck… You feel so good…’ he removed his fingers from your mouth to only push you harder against the wall, ‘bear with me a little longer…’

‘Fine’, you cried, unable to keep your voice down and suppress your moans anymore. He was pulling out the full length only to strike it back to the brim. He moved with such roughness you almost saw stars.

‘Scream for me. Let them hear how much I love you.’

Your world shattered before you, as you heard these majestic three words: I love you. And even if they were subtle, you could not but tense even more, making his cock trapped inside you tightly.

The pleasure was so immense you wanted to climb the wall.

Pantalone had a fat chance to hold a loud moan at this time. Just in sync, you screamed with him. His stomach was filling with warmth and he felt himself so close, so close that he hardly had time to warn you before—

‘NGHH!!’

He collapsed against you, his hot breath hit your neck once again. He kept letting out soft noises as he pounded a few more times against you, milking himself to the emptiness.

By the moment he finished your legs were trembling. You noticed a bright mark on his neck caused by how tightly you were embracing him. He touched his skin as soon as he noticed your concerned gaze.

‘Needy, are we?’ He inquired exhaustedly.

‘Sorry.’

‘No, it’s good. But I don’t think we are done with you, no?’

‘No.’

‘Of course not. You are not so foolish to assume one round would be enough for me.’

You pouted, however Regrator immediately closed the distance between you two and kissed you with his tongue again.

‘Just kidding’, he moaned into the kiss, ‘You were amazing.’

‘And I handled your “rough treatment”’, you answered smugly.

‘You were magnificent. You are, in fact…’

He stopped and his voice lowered. He gently and slowly pulled his cock out of your body with a low groan and dropped on the wall right next to you.

He was still breathing heavily and taking time to regain control.

‘I can barely stand, yet I want to keep this session up until the morning.’

Gentle touch took you out of a slumber somewhen in the late morning, and you turned to see Pantalone caress your cheek.

‘You are my rarest jewel.’

‘Those three words you said when we—’

‘And I mean it’, he looked away, ‘don’t mention it.’

His fingers lightly stroked your hand.

[mishasminion360]

If Only In My Dreams

Zach Wellison x fem!reader

Warnings: Fluff; smidgens of angst; mentions of war; a little Christmas magic.

Summary: It’s never been harder to be in love with a marine when the man in question is overseas for the holidays.

A/N: Sorry to get all depresso but….this past October I lost my father very suddenly. My biggest supporter; my best friend. Mom and I barely made it through Thanksgiving and now Christmas is hitting me hard. I’ve spent the last week thinking how I’d give anything to have him here for the holidays, and my angst spawned this idea. Everyone, please remember to cherish your loved ones, especially during the most magical times of the year. I hope that 2023 will be a better year for all 😊

You can’t recall a Christmas that’s ever felt colder. Even with the fireplace roaring you can’t seem to feel the heat. His embrace warms you more than any flame.

He’s been gone for a year but it feels like 10. True to his word there hasn’t been a day where you and Zach haven’t spoken via Zoom, or a week where there wasn’t a postcard from parts unknown waiting in your mailbox.

The last letter you’d received had been accompanied by a small box. A ring box. An empty ring box. At the bottom of the postcard, following his missive, was a P.S.

“Think about it and get back to me.”

You didn’t have to think about it; you’ve had the answer locked and loaded since the day you’d met Zach Wellison. Now you just need the man to give it to. Home safe and sound.

That odd letter had arrived a week ago, and only silence followed. Now here it is Christmas Eve and you’ve never been more aware of your loneliness. The lights on the tree don’t seem to twinkle; the hot chocolate just doesn’t taste as sweet. All of the holiday magic has faded away, replaced by a heaviness that settles into your head and your heart.

***

You’re halfway through “Elf”—vaguely chuckling at the absurdity of Buddy’s holiday antics—when there comes a knock. You fly to the door faster than the narrator in “Twas the Night Before Christmas”, eager to investigate your late night visitor.

A FedEx driver is the last person you’re expecting to find shivering in the snow on your porch.

“Don’t you folks get the day off?”

“Not as long as there are still important Christmas packages to deliver into the right hands.”

He hands you a small cardboard envelope and instructs you to sign on the dotted line. You watch him wander all the way back to the warmth of his waiting truck before tearing open the envelope and fishing around for its contents.

You can only stare in awe at the diamond ring that falls into your palm, glinting like a snowflake that’s caught the light of the moon.

“Well, what do you say?”

God, you hope it’s not a dream; a holiday hallucination. There he stands on your front lawn, stateside, adorned in his fatigues and rucksack at his feet.

You’re off the porch and tearing through the snow, launching yourself into Zach’s arms with enough force to send you both falling into powder.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’,” he chuckles, wrapping you in those arms you’ve been longing for. You’re instantly warm regardless of the slush filling your pajamas.

“It’s always been ‘yes’, Wellison.”

He slings has pack over his shoulder and carries you inside just as the clock strikes midnight.

“Looks like I made it just in time. Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

Zach doesn’t let your feet touch the floor until you’re beneath the mistletoe.

@grimeylady @rav3n-pascal22 @mamacitapascal @insomniamama1 @pedrosbisch @emmaispunk @lv7867 @reonlouw @hawaiianmelodies @pascalsky @pascalpanic @heythere-mel @healingstardust @delorena @pedropasxal @caesaryoulater @kiizhikehn-cedar @hellovanessax-deactivated202209 @fangirling-alert @fromthedeskoftheraven @axshadows @dragon-scales88 @spacepastel-blog @spideysimpossiblegirl @pbeatriz-blog @hauntedmama @mswarriorbabe80 @horton-hears-a-honk @wild-at-heart-kept-in-cage @a-trial-run-on-paper @oonajaeadira @foli-vora @dhadiirah @felicisimor @practicalghost @luz-introvertida @amneris21 @hb8301 @tanzthompson @littlemisspascal @dobbyjen @supernaturalgirl20 @alexxavicry @harriedandharassed @trickstersp8 @neganwifey25-blog @twistedboxy @emiemiemiii

[dcbbw]

Dawn’s Early Light

My Dearest @tessa-liam:

Surprise … I’m your #choicessecretpal22!

Before we get into unwrapping your present (which comes with a gift receipt for returns if you don’t like it), I’d like to take a few moments to say THANK YOU for being such a supportive member of the fandom, whether you are creating content (linking your Masterlist for those who don’t know) or enthusiastically supporting others who do via reblogs and insightful commentary.

When I got your wish list, I was sorely tempted to go with the obvious choice given we are both King Liam stans, but I considered: You get Liam content (from me, at least) all year round. You know what isn’t as prevalent? Desire & Decorum content.

So, I gift you my rewrite of the iconic duel between Ernest Sinclaire and Duke Richards. I sincerely hope you (and any who read this story) enjoy it. FYI, I used the default name, Clara Mills.

Thank you so much @choicesfandomappreciation for hosting such a wonderful event!

Please excuse any and all typos, missing/extraneous words, and/or grammatical errors. I proofed it really well, but it’s me, and I am not the best at wrapping gifts. MS Editor rates the story as 99% error-free.

Rating is M for Mature

All characters belong to Pixelberry.

Song inspo: A Bitter Song, Butterfly Boucher

Word count: 3,356

Content warning: gun violence, slightly nsfw

Dawn, The Castle Ruin

The early morning held a chill; it dusted the cracked earth with a light frost and turned breath into puffs of white. A man and woman emerged from the shadows of the abandoned castle ruin, hands tightly clasped together as they walked across the desolate field. The quiet was broken by their shoes crunching over sparse, white-tipped blades of grass, and her hitching breath as she held back tears.

The man’s gait slowed, and she peered up at him through tear-tangled lashes. His bluish-gray eyes smiled down at her, though his expression remained somber.

“Clara, my love …whatever happens today … I am in completely and utterly in love with you. For eternity.”

His palm cupped her cheek before his fingers combed through her thick dark tresses that flowed from beneath her bonnet. A bittersweet smile curved his mouth before slowly fading; he worried his lower lip before letting out a deep sigh.

“My will … everything goes to you. Ledford Park, assets, heirlooms, all of it. Mr. Harper has the official document in the event things do not go as planned.”

Clara pulled him closer, deeply inhaling his scent as her cheek lay upon his chest. “Ernest, don’t speak like that!” She pulled away, staring into his eyes beseechingly. “I can’t live in a world that doesn’t have you in it,” she sobbed.

Ernest Sinclaire pulled his lover closer to his body, his strong arms embracing her tightly. “I pray to the Lord above you won’t have to.”

The pair stayed that way for a few moments, pulling away only when they heard the thundering of horse hooves draw closer.

“Why is there such a goofy smile on your face, Mr. Sinclaire?” Clara Mills teased as she made herself as comfortable as possible upon a large boulder just outside the ruined castle.

Ernest Sinclaire sat on the ground with his long legs stretched out before him, staring dreamily into Clara’s face. A bemused grin split his lips. “’Mr. Sinclaire?’ Why so formal, m’lady? And if it isn’t apparent, I am in love with you. Foolishly so, it seems.”

Clara laughed, the peals almost musical. “It’s quite apparent. Hopefully my feelings for you are as transparent.”

Before Ernest could reply, a gravelly voice interrupted their conversation.

“Well, well, well. Isn’t this lovely?” Duke Richards sneered, a scowl marring his facial features. “I come searching for my fiancée, and she’s both enthralled and entangled with another!”

Clara’s eyes were mere slits and her mouth a thin line against her now hardened expression. “I am NOT your fiancée! I am HIS! I had already accepted Mr. Sinclaire’ s proposal before this farce you insist upon parading before the public!”

“Your own grandmother, the Dowager Countess of Edgewater, arranged this union between us,” Duke Richards snarled as sunlight glinted the silver threading his dark brown hair. “It is official, and there is nothing you can do to break it, you ungrateful harlot!”

Clara fell silent. While she had been finding love, Lady Grandmother had been seeking advantageous unions for her only granddaughter. Despite her numerous connections, the best Dominique Foredale could do was Duke Richards, the worst of the lot.

Ernest Sinclaire leapt to his feet. “THAT is quite enough, Your Grace,” he bellowed. “You shan’t tarnish the reputation of the Lady of Edgewater in such a manner!”

The Duke looked at Mr. Sinclaire in amused surprise. “Her reputation is already sullied! I am doing her a favor even agreeing to marry and lift her station in life. I am two generations removed from royalty! You are merely gentry, and she? She is a commoner wench who stumbled into some form of nobility!”

His Grace’s gaze fell upon Clara. “Get UP and come along, fiancée! Don’t make me ask again!” he snapped peevishly.

Ernest stepped protectively in front of Clara, his arms hanging at his sides; his hands curled into fists. “Let us settle this once and for all, Your Grace. I challenge you to a duel. Pistols at dawn for the honor and hand of Lady Clara. The winner has her for as long the Lord allows the union to last. The first to fall walks away with no more connection or communication with her.”

“ERNEST!” Clara screamed at hearing the words.

Duke Richards’ eyes darted between the two, a shrewd expression on his face while his index finger stroked his chin. “And you’ll walk away, out of her life. Forever?”

Ernest’s eyes hardened. “The loser will.”

The Duke shrugged. “Same difference.” He looked around. “Where do you propose we have this … duel?”

“Here. At dawn,” Mr. Sinclaire replied.

“I’ll see you at dawn.” The Duke tugged at his waistcoat, preparing to take his leave. His eyes fell upon Clara. “I’ll see you at dinner. Don’t be late,” he warned.

As the noble stalked off into the woods that led back to Edgewater, Ernest Sinclaire’ s face paled as he fell to the ground, lightly thumping his forehead against the rock his beloved sat on.

“I’ve just challenged the Duke to a duel,” he murmured disbelievingly.

“And it won’t be a fair fight,” Clara muttered as her fingers combed through his chestnut-colored hair.

The gathering met in the clearing, divided into two groups: Duke Tristan Richards and his second, Sir Gideon Payne on one side; Ernest, Clara, and their friends on the other.

The Duke and Sir Gideon whispered amongst themselves, the second occasionally patting his jacket pocket. Despite the nip in the air, neither man wore an outer coat.

Miss Annabelle Parsons huddled with Clara, hugging the younger woman close to her side. The Lady of Hazelvale’s expression was stoic as her eyes flitted about, observing everyone.

Briar Daly, Clara’s best friend and lady’s maid, wrapped a woolen shawl about Clara’s shoulders as she strained to hear what the Duke and Sir Gideon were discussing. The constant plumes of white emitting from their lips suggested it was urgent; the lowness of their voices confirmed it was clandestine.

Prince Hamid, the ambassador for the Ottoman Empire, glared at the Duke, not bothering to hide his disdain for the noble.

Luke Harper, Ernest’s second, was in conversation with the country squire, uncertainty washing over his features as he examined the pistol cradled in his palm.

“The Duke shall be dead in the morning!” Briar Daly declared in a decidedly cheerful voice which was at odds with her words.

The friends were seated in the study at Ledford Park, discussing the impending duel.  After minutes of thunderstruck silence upon hearing of Mr. Sinclaire’s challenge, the visitors had erupted in bouts of jesting and laughter and mocking His Grace, Clara included.

Ernest Sinclaire looked at them, the pit of his stomach turning sour as his anger and frustration mounted. But his tone was measured when he spoke.

“I’m certain that this joviality is an effort to relieve the … heaviness we must all be feeling at what awaits me in the morning, but we mustn’t lose sight of who we’re dealing with. This is a man who rapes unsuspecting women and demands thank-yous from them for sharing his noble seed with them. A man whose wealth was built upon unscrupulous deals. A man whose very word cannot ever be trusted.”

His friends watched Ernest Sinclaire with somber eyes and sober expressions, the merriment of a few moments ago now gone. He met their gazes and gave a rueful shake of his head.

“This is without doubt the most foolish thing I have ever done, but now I know what true love is and I refuse to let it slip away. Or be taken away.”

Clara rose from the settee, quickly making her way to Ernest’s side. She rose on tiptoes to place a sweet, lingering kiss on his cheek. “I’m not worth a duel.”

“You’re worth everything,” Ernest replied.

“Well, what do we need to do?” Miss Parsons asked briskly as her palms smoothed the skirt of her dress.

“I need a second. Mr. Harper, I would be honored to have you by my side.”

“Are you quite sure of that, Mr. Sinclaire?” Prince Hamid asked. “The rules state that your second must be your societal equal.” The Prince looked quickly at Luke Harper. “No offense, Mr. Harper.”

Luke nodded. “None taken, Your Highness. I thank you … all of you … for seeing me as a person, not a colored person.”

Ernest had risen from his chair and was using a key to open a glass cupboard that lined the back wall. “I see you as a man, Mr. Harper. As for societal equals, I’m Mr. Sinclaire, he’s Mr. Harper. We have the same title.”

“I am humbled by your invitation, Mr. Sinclaire, but I served in the Navy, not the militia.”

“A pistol is a pistol, Luke.” Ernest removed a firearm from the cabinet’s shelves. “Just aim and fire. Let’s practice, shall we?”

“Come along, come along,” Duke Richards grumbled as he infiltrated the band of comrades. “I’m ready to have breakfast with my fiancée.”

“Pride cometh before a fall, Your Grace,” Briar snapped as she stepped in front of Clara.

The Duke unceremoniously pushed the maid out of his way. “This isn’t my first time taking a woman from Sinclaire. Although I’ve never had to get up so early to do so. And one.more.word, and you will be unemployed.”

Briar bit her tongue at the noble’s words. She knew the Duke was referring to Roselyn Sinclair, Mr. Sinclair’s former wife.

Mrs. Ernest Sinclaire was a social climbing gold digger who had never loved her husband, marrying the young squire for access to his small fortune; for reasons known only to her, she indulged in a year-long affair with Duke Richards.

Roselyn became pregnant with the Duke’s child and Mr. Sinclaire threw her out into the street; she soon returned when the nobleman refused to even acknowledge her existence. The Sinclaires continued to live together in Ledford Park but led separate lives.

Mr. Sinclaire never told his wife’s family or friends of her indiscretion to spare her reputation, the only thing she had left.

Roselyn died in childbirth, and her son given to her brother to raise.

Duke Richards’ eyes lingered over Clara’s countenance, studying her as one would a storefront display. His gray eyes were the color of storm clouds as he took in her hair flowing freely about her shoulders instead of modestly pulled back and braided.

His lips thinned when he noticed the intimate bruises along the column of her throat. His hands tightened into fists when Clara defiantly turned her head to the side, giving the Duke a glimpse of the markings against her neck.

The Lady gave him a haughty look before speaking so low, only the Duke could hear. “Regardless the outcome, you will NEVER have me in any way! I belong to Mr. Sinclaire and he, to me.”

Duke Richards thrust his face into hers; there was less than an inch of space between them. He bared yellow-stained teeth in a wolfish grin. When he spoke, his breath was foul. Clara’s nose wrinkled at the stench.

“You rutting bitch, I couldn’t care less what the hell your commoner ass does with that noble wanna-be once I get hold of Edgewater,” he taunted.

“You will CERTAINLY NOT ever be in possession of Edgewater!” Clara seethed.

“The Dowager Countess has practically promised it to me and has agreed to draw up papers to that effect. Don’t believe me? Ask her yourself after I win this duel.”

Clara’s blood ran even colder. Ernest MUST win!

He pulled back, straightening the lapels of his red jacket. “I suggest you learn now how to treat me with the respect my position warrants. It could save a life and make yours more … pleasant.”

Duke Richards turned at feeling a hand cup his elbow; it was Sir Gideon. “Your Grace, it’s time.”

Ernest Sinclaire made his way to Clara’s side, his brow furrowed in concern and ire. “Are you in distress, my darling? My attempts to reach you were …thwarted.” His eyes slid to Gideon Payne who was now in discussion with Luke Harper.

Clara’s eyes began to water as they searched Ernest’s face, committing his every feature to memory. “Ernest …”

Mr. Sinclaire’s head bent, and his lips pressed against hers, quickly and fiercely. “I’ll never forget last night,” he vowed as his eyes held hers. “I’ll never forget you.”

Clara pressed her palm to his cheek, relishing in the warmth of his flesh despite the temperature. “Godspeed, my love.”

Thin fingers of moonlight slithered through the cracks in the castle roof; Clara focused her gaze on the silvery-white light sparkling against the broken stained-glass window as Ernest’s full lips kissed a searing trail from her throat to her breasts.

His tongue wetly licked the puckered pink of one of her nipples, while his fingertips pulled and gently pinched the other. His skin, tanned in the daylight, was pale in the shadowy darkness.

But warm. So warm.

The pair had left Ledford Park just before sunset to clear their heads as best they could. It was unspoken that they would return to the ruin; it had become a sanctuary for them. A space where there were no worries, no problems.

Just them and their love.

Tonight, their sanctuary was becoming hallowed ground.

Ernest was at her center now; his large palms pressed against the silk of her thighs, pushing them apart. There was a low moan as his lips wrapped around her clitoris, and he suckled eagerly. Clara’s eyes closed as she felt a slickness cover her folds; the scent of arousal filled her nostrils. She didn’t know if it was hers or his.

Or both.

His name fell from her lips as his tongue slid in and out of her entry; her hands fell into his hair when his fingers walked along her wet walls. She groaned when his manhood entered her tightness. His movements were slow and deliberate at first, but quickly sped up as she accommodated his length and girth.

“Open your eyes, darling,” he commanded.

Clara obeyed, keeping her gaze trained on his.

They screamed their orgasms to the heavens above.

Afterwards, when the silence was broken by Ernest’s snores and the sound of his heartbeat in her ear, Clara prayed that she and Ernest would have forever together.

However that may come about.

The two men faced each other with very different expressions. Duke Richards’ was smug, Ernest Sinclaire’s was stone-faced.

“Are you ready, gentlemen?” Luke Harper asked.

The Duke and Squire nodded in unison.

“Sir Gideon shall count up to 10; for each tally, you will both take a pace in opposite directions. At the final count, you will face each other and draw weapons. Do you understand?”

The men nodded again.

For the first time since their arrival, the group was silent.

Briar bent her head in prayer.

Clara clutched Miss Parson’s hand tightly, her eyes glued to Ernest Sinclaire’s form.

Prince Hamid stood next to Luke Harper, hands behind his back, his dark blue eyes inscrutable as he watched the exchange.  

The seconds handed the principals their weapons. Ernest frowned slightly as he hefted the pistol; it didn’t feel … right. A frisson of fear licked at the inside of his belly, but he shrugged it off.

His weapon of choice was a sword, not a gun.

“ONE!” Sir Gideon shouted.

The sky began to streak with orange and yellow; the first of the sunrise rose over the abandoned castle as the count continued. Ernest felt his heart rate increase with every measured step. He had to win. It wasn’t that he minded death; he didn’t. It was all the circle of life. But to leave Clara at the mercy of the jackal mere steps behind him?

Unacceptable.  

“TEN!” Sir Gideon announced.

Ernest spun on his heel, weapon drawn. Ten paces away, Duke Richards mimicked his stance. His index finger curled around the trigger, but nothing happened. He pulled again but the firing pin was jammed.

What the hell?

The shot that rang out across the clearing was a thunderclap upon the still air.

Every movement following seemed to happen in slow motion:

The looks of surprise and pain that washed over the Squire’s face.

The gun falling from his hand, landing in a patch of damp grass three feet away.

The bloom of blood against his white shirt as he fell backwards.

The flopping of his thick brown hair against his forehead as he landed heavily against the earth.

Clara, Luke, and Annabelle Parsons rushed to Mr. Sinclaire’s side, determining the placement of the wound. Without thought, Clara hooked her hands together, frantically pressing her palms against the flow of blood. It was warm and pulsing against her skin; her hands were soon coated with it.

Dear God, there’s so much blood!

Duke Richard’s sauntered over, a cruel smirk twisting his lips. “Well, that was quicker than even I anticipated.” His eyes were slate stones when his gaze settled on Clara. “Let’s go, darling,” he ordered.

Clara paid him no attention, her eyes focused on Ernest’s face. His skin was as white as a sheet, and perspiration dotted his forehead and upper lip. All while his blood ran thin rivers over brown dirt.

Hallowed ground.

“Not so fast, Your Grace!” Luke interrupted as he rose. “You still have to face me!”

Duke Richards looked confused. “Why? You want to join him?”

“The rules require it, Your Grace!” Annabelle Parsons shouted in anger and fear.

Prince Hamid walked slowly towards Luke, examining the fallen pistol in his hand. “Mr. Harper, this isn’t Mr. Sinclaire’s gun.”

The Duke and his second snapped their eyes to the Prince.

“You LIAR!” the noble snarled.

Luke snatched the gun, giving it a cursory once-over. “And YOU are a cheater, Duke Richards! There is no inscription on this weapon; Mr. Sinclaire’s gun had an inscription on the barrel.” Luke continued his examination. “There are no bullets in the chamber, and the firing pin is missing.”

His eyes settled on Sir Gideon. “This is NOT the gun I exchanged with you during the inspection.”

The Duke’s face flushed red. “Oh, come now! Mr. Sinclaire and I had a gentlemen’s agreement! Of COURSE that’s the gun you gave Gideon! HOW could he have switched weapons with you RIGHT THERE?”  

Snatches of the conversation reached Clara’s ears, but she was too busy trying to staunch the flow of blood. If only she had a cloth …

She was roused from her mission by Prince Hamid. He knelt beside her, his cape folded in his hands. “Here, let me, Lady Clara,” he offered in a gentle voice.

She nodded quickly, changing positions so Ernest’s head could lay in her lap. She smiled tearfully into his face. “Stay with us, love. Please stay.”

Ernest Sinclaire’s face was distorted with pain and slick with sweat. “Clara … I’m so sorry.” His eyelids fluttered as he struggled to maintain consciousness.

Luke Harper and Prince Hamid were still arguing with the Duke and Sir Gideon. “YOU HAVE TO FACE ME!” Mr. Harper shouted.

“For what? With what? You don’t even have a pistol!” Sir Gideon replied snidely.

Duke Richards stepped away, making a beeline to Clara. Gideon could handle Luke Harper. “You have two minutes to say goodbye!”

“I’m not going ANYWHERE with YOU!”

The Duke ignored her, his gaze now on Ernest Sinclaire. Even the nobleman had to admit the Squire was in dire shape. Ernest’s eyes opened; upon seeing his nemesis, he croaked out, “Go to hell.”

“Seems you’ll beat me there. Do save me a seat, won’t you?”

Clara’s attention was caught by the figure headed their way, pistol in hand. Her eyes widened in fright. “Ernest,” she whimpered.

Mr. Sinclaire’s gaze shifted, and his eyes widened slightly.

The Duke turned, irritated at the interruption.

A shadow fell over the trio as a second shot rang out.

As the sun rose majestically against a cloudless blue sky, Ernest Sinclaire’s eyes closed.

Clara screamed as blood from the gunshot slowly spread across the white shirt.

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