#been so busy preparing to fly and visit friend!!

[rinto190]

happy halloween!!!

[stillmonsterz]

my summer girl

pairing: jay x reader

genre: smut, fluff

summary: it's 1975, jay is about to enter his last year of university, and he's still a virgin. however, he plans to change that this summer when he goes abroad to france. the only problem is finding someone good enough to be his first.

warnings: unprotected sex, swearing, voyeurism, dubcon

word count: 7.2k

--

It was the summer of 1975, and Jay was going to lose his virginity. He knew that he was a late-bloomer; 21 years old, three years of university under his belt, and he hadn’t so much as seen a woman in her undergarments. But contrary to the teasing remarks of his friends, it was his decision. Jay wanted it to be a perfect experience, something out of the fanciful, romantic novels he regularly read in his spare time, or like a movie. He wanted his first time to be complete with red roses on white sheets, aromatic oils dripping from their bodies, and swelling music that led to a sensuous, thrilling crescendo. Jay occupied the time not spent on work, school, and his various hobbies with these grandiose fantasies. While his friends cavorted with the women from their established university, Jay bided his time. 

Then he got the best news of his life. As he packed away his clothes for summer vacation, one of his classmates who worked in the school office knocked on his door.

“Jay,” she said, “your mother called.”

Jay brightened; he liked to hear from his parents, and he was fully prepared to brag about both his grades and his prowess on the rugby field. The words that came out of his mother’s mouth, however, dashed away all thoughts of grandstanding.

“Honey,” his mother said as he clutched the phone. “We’re coming to get you shortly.”

“Today? I already booked a flight to visit you guys in a few days,” he replied. “I was just packing up.”

“Well, we’ve had a slight change of plans. We’ve decided to fly to France for a month this summer!”

Jay nearly dropped the phone, but he tried to feign nonchalance. “France? That’ll be a great opportunity to practice my French with the locals…”

His mother cooed, “Oh, aren’t you so practical? We’ll be staying at this gorgeous chateau in a town called Gordes, I’m sure you’ll love it…”

She kept speaking, but Jay was too busy imagining his summer. He wouldn’t just lose his virginity in France, he would be able to  have madcap adventures with a gorgeous woman. A wild summer fling charged with youthful exuberance and set in such a romantic country…it was beyond his expectations.

When he got off of the phone, Jay was practically vibrating with excitement. He rushed to his friends’ dorm room- Heeseung and Jake’s room. His own roommate, Sunghoon, was nowhere to be seen. Probably trying to convince his on-again off-again girlfriend that they should take a break so he could “sort himself out.”

Jay burst inside of the room. “Guys,” he said, opening the door with gusto, “I have some excellent news.”

Heeseung and Jake had been sitting cross-legged on the floor and playing a game of Crazy Eights, a game that they didn’t halt despite Jay’s intrusion. “Are you finally going to get laid?” Jake asked blithely, setting down a five of spades.

“Yes, actually,” Jay said, leaning against the doorframe.

Heeseung and Jake looked at each other, then at Jay. 

“Really?” Heeseung asked suspiciously, while Jake asked, “You’re not going to visit a whorehouse, are you?”

“Yes,” Jay said, pointing at Heeseung. He shifted his finger over to Jake. “And no to that.”

Heeseung chanced a smile. “You’re seriously going to do it?”

“Yes,” Jay said, crossing his arms. “My family and I are going to France for the holidays. I’m going to meet a beautiful woman, and she will be my summer girl.”

Heeseung rested his hands on his jeans, a smirk on his face. “Your what?” 

“My summer girl,” Jay explained, gesticulating madly. The scenes played out in front of his very eyes like a Technicolour romance. “We’ll meet at the chateau, we’ll play tennis together, hold hands, and then I’ll fuck the everliving daylights out of her every single day. Then- stop laughing at me- then I’ll leave her behind, because she’s my summer girl.”

Jay heard footsteps behind him- it was Sunghoon, trotting down towards the room with an annoyed expression on his face. “Hey guys,” he said, walking past Jay and sitting on Heeseung’s bed.

Jake turned to Sunghoon, who was swigging on a bottle of coke. “Sunghoon,” Jake said with feigned innocence, “our friend Jay here is going to find a ‘summer girl’ and ‘fuck the everliving daylights out of her.” Sunghoon choked on his soda as he doubled over in laughter. Jay clenched his hands into fists as his friends teased him. That’s fine, Jay thought, It is not by muscle, speed, or physical dexterity that great things are achieved, but by reflection, force of character, and judgment. And he had force of character in spades. While they dabbled with whores and sluts, he would find a quality, stunning woman to be his summer girl. 

–

As it turns out, not only were there no quality, stunning women milling about the chateau, there weren’t even any whores and sluts. Jay had walked all around the premises of the area in abject horror. The chateau stood by itself, nestled into a forested area with no neighbors for miles. Jay could. The nearest town was a 40 minute drive away, and not only was Jay an unconfident driver, but the town was so small he figured that any single woman was probably single for a reason. He tried to keep up his spirits so that his parents wouldn’t realize that he was disappointed- or worse, attempt to figure out why he was so disappointed. As he trudged through the opulent, spacious chateau, however, he felt a heaviness in his heart and a stiffness in his cock. There was a codgy butler milling around, a cook in the kitchen, and apparently there was a maid. Presumably, they were all related.

Jay slumped onto his bed and sighed. His room was rustic, with dark-stained floors, white-washed walls, and hand-carved wooden furniture. There was a small bookshelf in his room replete with both French and English books, so at least he would come away this summer with a decent grasp of French grammar. Jay groaned again, closing his eyes. He wished that the soft light filtering through the gauzy curtains beside his bed  would turn to raucous thunder and gloomy skies, or at the very least a drizzle of rain to complement his mood.

He heard a knock on the door and sighed. “Who is it?”

“Ah, housekeeping,” the voice said quietly. Jay’s ears perked up; that voice sounded decidedly feminine. Then he came back to reality; maids were generally married women who would have little interest in sleeping with the son of the master of the home. When Jay didn’t respond, the woman continued, saying, “Mrs. Park asked to have some tea delivered to your door, in case the flight unsettled your stomach.”

He wished that it was the flight causing him this internal anguish. “Please,” he said, closing his eyes and crossing his arms behind his head, “bring it in.”

The door opened quietly, and Jay could hear the rattle of the tea tray as it was carried into the room and set on his nightstand. His nose picked up on something, a floral fragrance that wafted in a pleasant cloud. 

He opened his eyes, and then he saw you.

You were wearing a dark blue maid uniform with a stained white apron, but you kept yourself well. You were groomed well, your nails were clipped short and polished, and your face was bright and sweet. And that perfume…Jay wondered how much you had had to save up to purchase it, or if it had been a gift. Maybe a boyfriend had gifted it to you.

“Did you need something else?” Your voice was so kind, and you looked at him so expectantly.

“No,” Jay whispered softly, “nothing at all.”

You nodded and pointed to a small piece of cloth hanging out of the wall above his desk. In his despondent mood, Jay hadn’t noticed it. “If you need me, you can pull that and it’ll alert me. It’s a bit old-fashioned, but this is an older house…”

Jay smiled. “Any time?”

“When you need something, sir,” you replied, smoothing your apron down. 

Jay cleared his throat. “Of course.” He poured himself a cup of tea, dropping two lumps of sugar inside and mixing it languidly. As he sipped his tea, he noticed that you were still lingering nearby. His smirk was hidden by his teacup as he looked you up and down. You must want him already. “Ah…you’re still here, Miss…?”

You told him your name, then said, “I have to be dismissed.”

Jay’s face reddened. “Right. Yes, right, of course. You’re dismissed.” You bid him goodbye and left him with the tea tray. As Jay sipped his tea, his feet crossed at the ankle, his vision for the summer shifted. Instead of wild encounters in haylofts and dirty, wet hot sex in valleys and behind churches, Jay now envisioned himself ravaging you in that little maid outfit of yours. Yes, he thought as his hand slowly crept to his crotch, this was perfect. 

He had found his summer girl.

–

Jay was able to quickly ascertain the problem with his plan- you were his maid. And you had to work. While he lounged outside, sunbathing shirtless, you were inside polishing the silver. He would eat lavish dinners, and you were the one who set the table, brought the food, and stood by on hand and foot. While he enjoyed being able to ogle you at his leisure, he started to feel like a brat. What could he do to prove to you that he wasn’t just a spoiled child? 

When he would stew over this, he would feel indignant. Why did he care about what the wait staff thought of him? He was Jay Park, and you should be so glad that he wasn’t ordering you to hand-wash his boxers. In fact, what was stopping him from just ravishing you the second you walked inside of his room? He was a rugby player, and rich, and he could get away with it. Just as quickly as those thoughts would enter his head, however, they would be cast out. For starters, it wouldn’t be right. Moreover, it wouldn’t have been earned. He had spent years building up to the loss of his virginity, and he didn’t want it to be with a woman struggling to get away from him. He wanted to seduce her, pliant in his arms as he made passionate love to her on his bed, or on a beach, or maybe on the balcony, or by a river…

Generally, these mental deliberations always ended with him squirting lotion onto his hands and soothing his angry cock the best way he knew how. They were always fuelled by the image of you puttering around the chateau. 

You had this way about you that Jay found intoxicating. He would always pretend to read, but he would take peeks at you as you cleaned up. Something about your movements, your manner of speech were all so sensual. The care with which you take care of the house, the knitting of your eyebrows as you scrubbed at a particular spot, the precision you utilized when tidying his room, it all appealed to his more epicurean sensibilities. And, of course, that scent…whenever you left the room, he would stand where you had been and he would deeply inhale its heady aroma. 

After a week of this, Jay had come up with a paltry idea. He tugged on the piece of cloth, and within three minutes you arrived at the door. As usual, your expression was bright. “Hello, sir,” you said politely. 

“Hi,” he said with a tenderness that would have earned him Jake’s derision. “I would like you to bring me some Earl Grey tea. And bring two teacups.”

You gave him a quizzical look, but you said, “Yes, sir,” and bustled out of the room anyway. 

When you left, Jay picked up his small pocket mirror and checked his hair. He unbuttoned one of his buttons on his loose shirt, fluffed out the collar, and parted the curtains so that the light would settle on his face better. He laid on his bed with a practiced relaxation, waiting for you to return. 

You came back with a tea try equipped with two cups. Setting it on the nightstand, you smiled. “Enjoy, sir…”

“No, no, you’ll join me,” Jay replied. The way your eyes widened was so cute, Jay just wanted to kiss you.

“Oh…I don’t know if I can do that, I’ve got to polish the silver…”

“I’ll come down and vouch for you,” Jay said, holding one of the cups to her. “Please? I haven’t been able to talk to anyone near my age in a week. I’m going mad.”

You laughed and warily accepted the cup, which you then set down to pour his own tea. 

Jay rested a hand on yours and shook his head. “Please, allow me. Come on, sit on the bed.”

You did as he said, leaving a fair bit of space between the two of you. He carefully poured the tea for both of you, willing his hand to stay steady. “How do you take your tea?”

“Just like this,” you said. 

“Really? No sugars, no milk, no cream?”

You shook your head, and Jay sighed. “Have you ever tried it with sugar?”

Once again, you shook your head, sipping your tea. “No point in wasting sugar like that.”

Jay gently took your cup and dropped a lump of sugar into your tea, mixing it. “Try it like this.”

You wrapped both of your hands around the cup and took a slow sip. He loved the way you drank. “It’s good like this,” you said. “Very good.”

“Isn’t it?” Jay looked at you closely, and he knew that the warmth bursting inside of his chest wasn’t good for his plan. You were his summer girl, and affection would only ruin that. Jay drank his tea, trying not to stare at you. He decided that engaging you in a conversation might help; reminding himself of the class difference between you two would stave off the feelings blossoming within him. “So…what do you like to do?”

“What do I like to do?” You drummed your fingers on the cup as you thought. “Well…I like to go for walks. The area is simply gorgeous, so I go for walks when I’m not working. I like to sketch, too.”

“You sketch?” Jay swallowed his tea in one painful gulp. “What do you like to draw?”

“Oh…everything, I guess. The things I see. I like to draw flowers, trees. Sometimes people.”

“Would you draw me?” Jay blurted out, setting his tea cup on the tray.

“I couldn’t do that,” you said with a slight laugh. “Imagine how embarrassed I would feel if I made you look bad.”

“I’m sure you couldn’t do that,” he said, leaning against the headboard. “You’re so careful with everything you do. I bet your drawings are lovely.”

“You’re just flattering me, sir.”

“No, no, not at all,” Jay said with a laugh. 

“Or you’re trying to get a free portrait out of me.”

Jay shrugged. “Can you blame me?”

“Yes, I can. Someone like you could afford to fly Elisabeth Chaplin here and have her paint a portrait of you,” you retorted. Then you stiffened; Jay figured that you weren’t used to speaking so casually.

He kept his voice light. “What are you saying then, that I should pay you?”

“How much would you pay for a portrait I did of you?”

“For you-,” he began, but just then, you heard a bell chime in a different room. The veneer of nicety came over you, and you quietly put your tea cup on the tray and lifted it. 

“Thank you for the tea-time, sir,” you said politely. “Have a lovely day.”

“Yeah,” Jay said, dejected. “You too.”

–

After that, he pulled on the cloth and asked for tea three more times. Three more times he had shared conversations of varying length with you, and something dreadful had happened to Jay. Instead of waves of raw, primal lust overtaking him and pushing him to take you on the sheets, Jay felt warm when he spoke to you. 

You told him about your ambitions, about how you had become a maid, your favourite records, your favourite books, how you would walk down the dusty road winding into town and meet your friend halfway. Then you would watch movies with her. You liked movies that were thrilling, a contrast to your own life. Every time you laughed, your eyes shifted, every time your fingers wrapped around the small teaspoon as you swirled a lump of sugar into your tea, Jay felt like the sun was rising within him. 

He watched you as you cleaned up. When you would go outside to tidy up the tennis courts after your parents would play a game, he would watch you, sometimes with one hand shoved inside of his pants. 

Jay knew that his fantasy of using you as nothing more than a warm body and bragging rights was fading away quickly. He had to refocus his efforts…but how? As he paced around his room one night, he got an idea. A damned good one, if you asked him. 

He knew that you got off work at 6 pm, so at 5:59 pm he tugged on the cloth. The scene was set; his bedsheets had been rumpled to mimic a post-coital aftermath, his shirt was sensually unbuttoned, and he had dabbed cologne behind his ears and on his wrists. The record player in the corner was playing a crooning Serge Gainsbourg song. The piece-de-resistance was the bottle of pinot noir that Jay had filched from his parents’ room while they were taking a stroll in the forest, along with two fine-stemmed wine-glasses.

As he heard your footsteps approaching his room, he adjusted his position so that he was lying on his back, one hand draped over his stomach, the other hanging over the edge of the bed. 

“Mr. Park?” you asked softly, rapping on his door.“Come in,” Jay said in a low, husky voice.

“What was that?”

“I said, ‘Come in,’” Jay said normally. You stepped inside, closing the door behind you, and Jay smirked at you. You had no clue what he had prepared for you. As usual, you were wearing your maid outfit, and your hands were clasped in front of your apron. Even from here, he could smell your sweet, floral scent; it was almost an aphrodisiac to Jay.

 “Come sit.”

You sat at the end of the bed so that his feet were pointed towards you. He shifted his position so that he was sitting up slightly. He leaned over to his nightstand and grabbed the bottle of wine.

“Do you like wine?” Jay asked, uncorking the bottle.

You nodded. “I do. I don’t drink it often, though.”

Jay poured you a glass of wine, making sure not to spill a drop. “This is a nice Domaine de Montille Les Pezerolles, from Pommard.”

“Oh, really?” You swirled the wine around in the glass, and he was pleased to see that you held the wineglass’ stem at the bottom. “It sounds good.”

“Yes,” he said, pouring himself a glass. He took a slow sniff of the wine before taking a sip. “This is from 1969, so it hasn’t completely thinned. In fact, it has a full body- you smell that?”

Before you could speak, Jay continued. “It was a dry summer when they harvested these grapes in Pommard in a premier cru- do you know what a premier cru is? It’s a vineyard where high-quality grapes are harvested. Of course, these aren’t the creme de la creme. The best grapes are harvested in what are called grand crus. Do you know Romanee-Conti?”

You paused, then said, “Ah…that’s a very expensive wine, yes?”

“It’s a type of wine,” Jay said, taking another sip of his wine. “I take it you’ve never had any?”

“Well…no.”

Jay pointed his pinky at you while he held onto his wineglass. “I’ll have to get you some someday. I’ve had a glass once, I believe it was a 1956 La Tache, and you can simply taste the caliber of the grapes. The tannins weren’t strong, more on the silkier side…”

You tilted your head. “What are tannins?”

Jay’s face brightened.Somehow, without knowing it, Jay had spent two hours explaining what tannins were, how wine was harvested, the ideal temperature to enjoy wine, and how he would pair the wine they were currently drinking with a meal. After 8 o’clock had approached, you had quietly excused yourself, bidding him goodnight. Jay had waved goodbye gaily, until he looked down at his empty wine glass and realized belatedly that he had squandered his opportunity to fuck you. 

Jay sighed and poured himself another glass of wine, sitting on his bed and closing his eyes. He was running out of ideas, and the third week of vacation was steadily approaching. If he went back to school without knowing what you felt like, what you tasted like, Jay thought he might die.

His dreams that night centered around you lying on his bed, naked save for a black pair of pantyhose. Jay was pouring that wine all over your body and sucking it off of your breasts, licking the sweetness from your stomach like a madman. He poured wine into your mouth, and you kissed him back so that he could drink from you. When Jay woke up, the taste of pinot noir was heavy on his tongue.

–

The next day, after breakfast, Jay knocked on the door of his parents’ room in the chateau. His father opened the door, smiling at him. 

“Hey, kid,” Mr. Park said, affectionately ruffling his hair. His father was wearing the same set of pajamas that Jay wore

“Dad,” Jay said quietly, “I need to speak with you.”

His father’s eyes narrowed in confusion; Jay’s expression was earnest and his tone was pleading. “Sure.”

Once they were safely inside of Jay’s room, Jay sat on his bed. His father joined him. 

“Dad…” Jay hesitated, unsure of how to word his question. Finally, he said it as plainly as he could: “How did you win Mom over? I mean…how did you approach her?”

Mr. Park’s eyes twinkled. “Has someone caught your eye?”

Jay tried to ward off his father, who was nudging him in the ribs with his elbows. “Not-not quite, Dad. Just…for the future, you know? For the future.”

Mr. Park laughed. “Sure, son.” He looked up at the ceiling as he thought, and Jay looked directly at his father. “Well, it wasn’t easy. I had to chase your mother. She was popular, beautiful, and smart, so it wasn’t an easy task. But she said that what she enjoyed was when I would send her flowers.”

“Flowers?”

His father shrugged. “She said it was such a classic gesture, it made her feel like I was more of a traditional man. Not someone who would just toy with her emotions then cast her aside like so much filth.”

“Flowers,” Jay repeated, his eyes darting around. Of course. Flowers.

“I was also honest about my intentions,” Mr. Park continued. “I knew that she was desirable, so I didn’t want to waste time. I told her how I felt and showed her my cards. That might not work for every woman, but your mother and I thought- think- similarly. And that’s what you want to find, Jay. Not someone who mirrors you, but someone who thinks just similarly enough to you that you’ll hardly argue, and differently enough that your arguments will be interesting.”

Jay smiled at his father’s joke, but he quickly became lost in thought. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “I’ve got a lot to consider.”

Mr. Park ruffled his son’s hair again. “Glad I could help, sport. I hope things go well with this girl.”

Jay smiled at his father affectionately. “Yeah, me t-,” Jay’s face blanched. “I mean, there is no girl.”

His father laughed as he left the room, and Jay sighed. At least now a plan was forming, something concrete. 

– 

Jay spent his entire afternoon wandering through the forest bordering the chateau searching for flowers. He brought his thick canvas bag with him, as well as a pair of shears. Every time he saw a gorgeous flower, he snipped it carefully and placed it into the bag. Violets, white flax, buttercups, sheaths of elderberry, red and purple poppies. Jay had to work fast; he wouldn’t forgive himself if the flowers even slightly wilted before you could enjoy them. As the sun set, Jay’s fingers were caked in dirt, sweat coated his brow, but his bag was filled with various, fragrant flowers. To his delight, he realized that their scent was similar to yours, and he walked towards the grounds of the chateau with his nose buried in a handful of flowers. 

You lived in the servants’ quarters, which was a smaller house located on the edge of the premises. It was past six o’clock, so you would surely be there now, washing up. Maybe you had already changed into something comfortable. Jay darted inside of his bathroom, cleaning all of the dirt off of his nails and changing into a loose shirt and linen pants. He slicked his hair back and applied cologne. Using a light blue ribbon from a package of artisanal biscuits, he tied the flowers together into a rough bouquet. Jay arranged the flowers carefully, placing the violets at the front and tucking the elderberry flowers as accents.

Jay swallowed thickly and walked over to the servants’ quarters. He knocked on the door, and as he waited for someone to come to the door he reminded himself that he was Jay Park, the son of James Park, someone to be revered, someone to be respected. 

To his delight, you answered the door. You were wearing a long nightgown, and your smile was so soft and dreamy Jay could have melted. 

“Hello, sir,” you said, leaning your head against the doorframe. “To what do I owe this honour?”

“Nothing,” he said quickly. Then he thrusted the flowers towards you. “Here. For you.”

You beamed at him, and Jay knew he would have spent a month traversing that forest if it would make you smile like that again. “Thank you.” You received the bouquet, touching the flowers delicately. You closed your eyes and took in their scent.

Jay lingered outside of your door. He felt like he was being split into pieces. He wanted to caress your hair and kiss your cheek; he wanted to barge into your house, toss you on your bed, and take what he wanted from you; he wanted to run away until he was a better man, a stronger man; he wanted to be one of the flowers you were stroking, the perfume you inhaled. 

You looked up at him. “The butler and the cook won’t be back until 8,” you said quietly. “They’re still at the chateau.”

Jay’s breath caught inside of his throat. “Is that so?” 

“Yes, sir. So if you liked, we could go inside and talk?”

Jay’s eyes glowed. “Yes, yes, of course.”

You led him inside of the small home; there was one large room that constituted the kitchen, living room, and dining room, a bathroom, and three bedrooms that were hardly more than a cot and a dresser. Yours had drawings stuck on the wall, a threadbare blanket covering the bed, and a dresser that was covered in your makeup, hairbrush, and other toiletries. Jay sat on your bed and frowned as he looked around his room. 

“What is it?” you asked, setting the bouquet on the dresser. “Not to your liking?”

“That’s not it,” Jay said, his eyes fixed on your drawings. “It’s just that you deserve something better.”

You smiled at him. “Do I? Why?”

“Why? What do you mean, why? You’re…you’re too good for this,” Jay said, gesturing wildly. 

“So where should I be?”

So many words sprung to his mind that they clogged in his throat. You should be in my bed, in my college, in that chateau, on a beach being ravaged next to the ocean, lying in a flower field, anything except being a maid. Instead, Jay looked down at his hands.

“I’ll just get a vase for this,” you said, gesturing at the bouquet. Jay nodded, and as you left he gripped his thighs and sighed. He could hear his heartbeat thumping madly, and the fact that he was in your room wasn’t making things any better. Your scent was everywhere, lingered on everything, and it set his heart ablaze. 

With a furtive glance at the door, he leaned down to your pillow and inhaled deeply. Jay moaned slightly; he wished that you would stay away for a little longer, so that he could pleasure himself in a cocoon of your fragrance. He’d leave traces of himself everywhere, in your clothes, in that maid outfit, in your underwear. Jay was considering pawing around in your drawers to find your panties when you came back with a chipped vase. You set it on your dresser and tucked the flowers inside of it carefully, not disrupting the arrangement that Jay had made. For some reason, the way that your fingers deftly placed the flowers in the vase made him shiver from arousal. 

He couldn’t hold back anymore. Three weeks now, three weeks of smelling you and seeing you and learning about you without so much as a touch. Once you stepped away from the glass vase, Jay came up behind you and grabbed your shoulders, pinning you to the bed. You seemed more curious than anything else, your arms splayed at your sides.

“I want you,” Jay whispered. “I want you so...ardently, it hurts.” With trembling fingers, he shoved your nightgown all the way up to your waist. Now, he could glimpse your panties- white, of course you wore white panties. It was like you had been designed to ruin his summer. 

Jay didn’t bother taking his pants off all the way, instead only tugging them along with his underwear down slightly. His cock was hot and already leaking precum as he looked down at you, at your gorgeous pussy that was covered in a fine mat of downy hair. You stared up at him, seemingly daring him to make his next move.

Jay spit onto his hand and coated his cock in a mixture of saliva and precum. His entire body screamed for him to enter you, ruin you, to fulfill millenia of biological hardwiring. Jay trembled in anticipation as he finally pushed himself inside of you. It was like nothing he had ever experienced. You were so warm, inviting, and silky, like you had been made for him. The small gasp you had made as he had entered you was just perfect.

He thrusted inside of you, overwhelmed by the sensation of your velvety pussy. After another stroke, he realized that his orgasm was already racing through him. 

“No, no,” Jay whispered, pulling out of you, but the friction of your pussy as he slid out of you caused him to spasm. Cum spurted out of him in humiliating globules, landing on your stomach and nightgown. 

Jay hovered over you, his eyes widened with shock. “No. No, no, no. That-that was nothing. That only lasted for, what…”

“A minute,” you replied, your face impassive. 

“A minute,” Jay repeated in horror. “Oh, my God, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry…” Jay squeezed his eyes shut and groaned. Now everything was ruined. He had come in a pathetically short amount of time. You probably didn’t feel a thing. 

Then he felt warm hands stroke his cheek, and his eyes opened. A small smile had graced your lips, and despite his despair he managed a smile too. 

“Was that your first time?” you asked quietly, tracing his lips with your thumb.

Jay hesitated, but there was no point in lying. “Yeah,” he whispered, “it was. You were.”

You nodded sympathetically. “It’s okay,” you said. 

“It…is?” Jay stared at you in awe.

Then, to his delight, you brought his head down and kissed him softly. It wasn’t rough, not the way his friends had described it- teeth clashing, tongues choking each other, hands wildly groping. This kiss was so gentle, and Jay reciprocated, his hands cupping your face. Your scent tickled his nostrils, filled his mind with a haze. 

Soon, you were licking his bottom lip, so Jay parted his lips. You slipped your tongue into his mouth, and he touched it with his, once, twice. He ran his tongue over your teeth, probed into your mouth, sucked on your tongue. He wanted to memorize every inch of you. 

Jay felt one of your hands slip under his shirt, and you ran your hands over his abs. He was proud of the hardened muscle he had worked so hard to cultivate, and he could feel his pride slowly returning. Emboldened, he kissed you even more deeply, and he began to feel your breasts over your nightgown. You weren’t wearing a bra, and he could only imagine how soft they must feel properly in his hands. 

“Take it off,” you whispered against his lips. Jay didn’t need to be told twice. He undressed you slowly this time, helping you push the nightgown over your head. 

Jay groaned under his breath as his eyes flickered over your body. It was amazing. You were like Aphrodite, the Venus of Willendorf, a being designed to be admired. How could he have ever thought of thrusting into you like you were his right hand? “Turn the light on,” he said quietly. 

“Yes, sir,” you said, flicking your standing lamp on. Your body was bathed in the soft, rosy glow, painting you in colours that rivaled the work of the pre-Raphaelites. 

“Don’t call me sir,” he said pleadingly. “Call me Jay, please.” With that, he dipped his head down and kissed your neck softly. You whimpered, and the sound was like the song of an angel. He kissed you all the way down to the space between your breasts. One hand gently fondled one breast, and the other hand held your waist as he kissed the other breast. 

“Lick my nipples,” you whispered. “I like that.”

Jay did as you asked, taking one nipple in his mouth and licking it. The way it hardened was fascinating to him, and he lavished both of your nipples with attention. His hands stroked your waist, up and down, and he could feel you tremble. Jay trailed wet kisses down your stomach, sticking his tongue into your navel to make you laugh. He splayed your arms out on the bed and kissed and licked them. When he got to your hand, he kissed your palm  and your fingertips. Jay lifted your legs up and kissed them from your inner thigh to the backs of your calves to your ankles, all the way to your toes. 

You made these darling little sighs as he kissed you and touched you. “This feels great, Jay,” you sighed out. On occasion, you would tell him to pay special attention to a certain part of yourself; your inner thighs, Jay found, were a sensitive spot. He would frequently return there on his journey around your body and bite and suck at the soft flesh there. 

As Jay gripped your thighs, kissing them, you pulled at his hair so that his face was tugged upwards. 

“I want to teach you something else,” you said, looking him in his eyes. 

“What?” Jay whispered.

As a response, you parted your legs slightly. Jay could see pools of arousal leaking out of your pussy, and his cock stirred. You took your fingers and touched a small, pearly nub of flesh. 

“Do you know what this is?”

Jay had a rough idea, based on the conversations he had had with his friends. “Your clitoris?”

You smiled and nodded. “Yes,” you said, your fingers still threaded through his hair. “I want you to lick it.”

“Lick it?”

“It’ll make me feel good,” you whispered, and you gently pushed his head down between your legs. After one tentative lick, Jay was hooked. You tasted amazing, not quite sweet, not salty, but something else. Something primal and delicious. He laved your clit with his tongue, spreading your legs apart even further. 

For the first time, you moaned, a sound that made its way all the way to Jay’s gut. He kept going, lapping at that little pearl with feverish abandon. Jay pulled away after a while, worried that he was going too fast, being too rough again. “Is this okay?” he asked.

Your voice was tense and high as you said, “Yes, you’re doing amazing, Jay. It feels amazing. Keep going, keep going.”

That encouragement was all Jay needed. One hand firmly split your legs apart, and the other reached up and toyed with your nipples again. He felt you writhe and shiver as he swallowed your arousal, making circles with his tongue around your clit. 

“Jay, Jay, I’m going to, I’m going to…” A series of high-pitched moans passed through your lips and your back arched off of the bed. Jay continued licking your clit until you weakly pushed his head away. Jay stared in awe at your cunt opening and closing on its own, and he inserted a finger inside of you to feel the contractions for himself. He shivered as he imagined his cock in here, but he decided to wait until you weren’t so exhausted. 

Jay dragged himself up the bed so that he was lying beside you, and he affectionately rubbed your stomach. Your face was wet with sweat, lips parted, and your eyes were lidded. Still, that same smile was plastered on your face, and Jay wiped your face with his thumb.

“How was that?” he asked, just to hear you praise him.

“It was great,” you said weakly. “It was…wow. You’re a fast learner, aren’t you?”

“Top of my classes,” Jay said with a wide grin. You playfully pushed him, and he kissed your cheek. “I’m sorry I couldn’t…you know… last.”

You shook your head. “It’s okay. It was your first time. No one has a very good first time.”

“Did you?”

“That’s a story for another day,” you said with an eye roll. 

Jay traced your stomach with his hand again, his eyes flickering over you. After a while, he whispered, “Teach me.”

You looked at him. “Teach you…?”

“How to please you. I want you to enjoy it, too. Please?”

You glanced at him, and your eyes were so soft Jay got the sudden urge to cry. “Okay. Come on, sit up.”

Jay sat so that his legs were spread, entrapping you between them. You sat up as well, leaning against the headboard. 

“Your pants…”

“Oh, right.” Jay scrambled to take them off, and his boxers too. His cock flopped out, and he was dismayed to see that it wasn’t completely hard. He glanced at you to gauge your reaction, but your gaze was fixated on his dick. 

“How have you managed to stay a virgin with that?” Your hand rested on his thigh, rubbing up and down.

Jay’s heart swelled with pride. “Oh, well, I’m picky, I suppose. I only like the best of the best.”

You smiled softly, catching the compliment, and then your head bobbed down to his cock. His eyes drank in the sight of your wet little tongue swirling around the tip, your hands massaging his balls. Jay moaned loudly, his arms falling back to hold himself upright. “Oh, will you jack me off, too? Please.”

You obliged him, letting some of your spit trickle down his shaft before massaging it loosely. Jay leaned his head back and moaned loudly. He was so glad you two were in the little servants’ quarters and not the chateau, where the sounds would have echoed. The sloppy noises of your mouth wrapped around his tip and your hands fondling his cock, and his own moans. 

Soon, you were pulling away, and Jay was initially disappointed by the lack of his contact. You wiped your mouth and smiled at him, and his annoyances were forgotten. You shifted backwards so that you were sitting against the headboard again.

“Now,” you whispered, “come here.”

Jay crawled over to you, sitting upright as well. He pulled your legs over his, so that you were straddling him. As he waited for you to keep speaking, he caressed your smooth legs. 

“This time, be slow. You want to feel everything, feel the way I fit around you. Take your time. There’s no rush, Jay.”

He kissed you, then, his hands around your throat. Jay pushed himself inside of you again, this time noting how delicious the stretch was, how your pussy squeezed his cock mercilessly. You wrapped your arms around his neck, and your lips were still on his. You moaned into each others’ mouths as he bucked his hips against yours. Jay’s hands fell from your neck to your shoulders to your breasts, fondling them slowly. He grew accustomed to this rhythm, of becoming one with you, and it was better than what he could have ever imagined.

Jay gently pulled you on top of him, his back hitting the bed. He thrusted into you slowly, languidly, and you matched his movements. From this position, Jay could swirl his tongue around your nipples again as his hands groped at your ass. He pushed you down on his cock, forcing you to take his full length. Now that your moans were no longer muffled by his lips, they reverberated all over your small room. The air was thick with your scent percolating with Jay’s, your soft moans with his harsh grunts. 

Jay could feel his orgasm approaching, but he resisted the urge to pound into you. Instead, he rolled you over so that he was on top of you again. He pulled out of you and kissed you the way you liked, slowly, tongues meeting, spit dribbling down chins, hot, wet mouths sharing breaths. While you kissed, Jay’s hand worked down your body and he tried to find your clitoris again. Your hand reached out and gently guided him towards your small nub; he rubbed it in steady circles, and he relished in your whimpers. 

“Are you close?” Jay asked before pressing his lips against yours again.

You nodded, unwilling to stop kissing him. 

With that, Jay thrusted inside of you again, his fingers still playing with your clitoris. He felt powerful as he felt your back arch. When he dug his knee up slightly, he could feel your legs begin to tremble. Finally, he let himself go, rutting into you the way he had wanted from the start, his free hand  on your waist. Jay grunted as he approached his high, his eyes shutting in ecstasy. 

You came first, whining his name and clutching him tightly. Your pussy clenched around his cock, and he came with a final, primal grunt, emptying himself in you. 

Jay didn’t want to pull himself out of you. He wanted you to stay full of him, and the way you held him made him think you felt the same way.

Jay kissed your forehead and laid on top of you, stroking your cheek as you came down from your highs together.  The way you nestled your head into his neck made his heart sing, and your scent was even stronger now. He knew that he could never let go of you.

You were his summer girl.

[icallhimjoey]

More!!! More!!!! More bookstore!joe! MORE!!!!!!!!!! we've seen his erratic behaviour when he visits the store after not having been able to come in for a while, but what about the visit before he knows he's not going to be able to come in for a while?

omg im so here for the bookstore!joe requests, but the "i already miss you even though youre still here" somehow turned into whatever this is... idk why i went where i went, my apologies, and tw for vomit Wordcount: 3K

---

Lost Moments To Keep

You hadn't stopped staring at Joe with the biggest eyes. You seemed confused and weirdly mesmerised. Your eyes tunneled a little, vision darker around the edges.

"That's Joe." Anne just said, and then your eyes moved to give her the same wild look.

"And I'm Anne. We like me, a lot. We don't like Joe. You've got temporary loss of normal brain function, look, Google says." Anne held her phone to your face, too close for anything to register.

"You're not helping, Anne." Joe scolded through clenched teeth.

"Wha–"

Joe was on the phone to someone, and... you knew who that was. You knew who that was. What the fuck. What was Joe Quinn doing in your bookstore?

And why were you on the floor, exactly? Your left elbow hurt, but the back of your head much worse.

"Yea, she's awake. She hasn't lost consciousness at all." Joe said to whoever was on the other side of the line. "Confused, though. Brain's all scrambled."

"Do you feel dizzy? Google says you might feel dizzy."

"I... what day is it?"

"Oh my God, she's asking what day it is." Anne said, turning to Joe like she was blaming him for what you'd asked. In Anne's terms, she was panicking. Anyone who didn't know her, though, would think she was being exceptionally calm given she'd just witnessed her boss lift a box of books that tipped her over backwards.

Your head hurt.

And you did feel dizzy. And nauseous too, a little.

It made sense that you had fallen, but it was strange to not remember and to have two strangers fret over you in your own business.

Your eyes darted from the worried face of famous actor Joe Quinn who was stood by your feet, to the wildly uninterested face of a younger girl who sat next to you with her legs crossed as she scrolled on her phone.

"Any vision disturbance? Are you more sensitive to light than you'd usually be, do you think?" Anne asked, seemingly going down a list she'd found online.

"Okay, thanks. We'll make sure she doesn't move until you get here." Joe looked at you as he said goodbye and hung up. That looked like your phone.

"Her mum's on her way."

Why was he using your phone?

"Any mental fogginess?" Anne continued, ignoring Joe and additionally ignoring you, entirely unfussed that you weren't answering any of her questions.

"Hey," Joe softly said, catching your attention as he stepped closer and leant an elbow on the counter as he bent down a little. He smiled warmly at you when he asked, "How are you feeling?"

Joe Quinn.

Joseph Quinn.

What was he doing in your bookstore?

And who the fuck was Anne?

Your eyes moved from one to the other until you saw black spots and the pain behind your eyes grew. Your ears were ringing when you softly said, "I'm... I'm gonna throw up."

Joe almost hadn't gone in today. He almost hadn't, because he didn't really have any time to waste. But, Jesus, he was glad he was there.

God, imagine if he hadn't been.

When Joe had woken up that morning, he thought he was likely going actually insane. He was flying out for work the next day, and instead of preparing, of packing, of seeing family and friends before he'd be off for a while - instead of all that, he showed up on the bookstore's doorstep at 10 am sharp. Right when Anne unlocked and opened the door. Just because that was where he wanted to be. He kind of already missed the store, even though he was right there.

Anticipatory nostalgia; Joe could feel it in his bones.

Instead of stepping aside and letting him in, she gave him a deadpan tired stare and waited for him to take the A-frame from her hands to put outside on the pavement.

Joe happily helped out. Said, "Good morning, sunshine!" all chipper and laughed when Anne looked like she had to try really hard not to vomit.

He'd called a good morning into the store, got a faint "Morning!" in reply from the backroom where you were making yourself a coffee, and found his ledge... empty.

Anne saw him look at the spot where he usually left the books that he was reading. You'd granted him that small little surface area of the store so you wouldn't have to keep putting his books back on the shelves, and so Joe wouldn't have to go looking for those same books again the next time he'd come in. A win win little ledge of excuses for Joe to return to your store. A real privilege, Joe thought.

Except he'd left books there.

He knew he did.

Where had they gone?

"I tidied." Anne said unsentimentally and challengingly looked at Joe over her mug as she took a sip of hot coffee.

She loved being a little shit and inconveniencing Joe wherever and whenever she could. Tidying the store was part of her job, and Joe knew if he was to complain, she'd have the upper hand, because what was he even really doing? The store wasn't a library, no matter how much he had starting treating it like one.

So instead, Joe used her inconvenient power move as an excuse to take his time to browse the whole store and took care to be in the exact wrong spot at the exact wrong time.

You secretly smiled every time you heard Anne sigh with frustration and heard her mutter, "Move!" under her breath before using a shoulder to push him aside. Every single time, Joe pretended he was totally oblivious. Would go, "Oh! Sorry! Was I in the way?" all innocently, but you could see how his mouth was fighting to keep his own smile hidden.

It took maybe forty minutes for Joe to have built up a little stack of books on the small sidetable next to your granddad's armchair in the window, and then Joe sat and read undisturbed for an hour and a half.

You loved it when Joe was in.

Just sat there.

Reading.

Absolutely engrossed in his own little world.

The faint feeling of envy was always overshadowed by the joy of being allowed to unashamedly stare at him from the counter, leant on both elbows.

You'd brought him a coffee after those 90 minutes of silent reading, and he'd given you a quick wink and a smile as a thank you.

Customers filtered in and out, and you went from moments of it just being Joe in the store to having eight people needing your attention simultaneously. It was both busy and not, and the switches in energy had left you in a weird spot mentally.

You hadn't realised you'd fully skipped lunch.

You'd seen Joe dart out for some pastries, and you'd ordered Anne to get her ass into the back to go and eat something, but you never followed up on your "I'll take my lunch after."

It was why, in a moment of quiet, you'd picked up a box of books from behind the counter that had sort of been in the way the whole morning, you been unsuccessfull.

Maybe you'd gotten up too fast.

Or maybe the box was just too heavy.

The entire thing had taken you down quicker than you'd been able to get it off the floor. It didn't help that the box was open. The reflex of your body became about making sure none of the books would tip out and hit you in the face, when the reflex should've been about cushioning your fall.

You shot no arms out.

You didn't drop the box.

You just... fell.

The weight of the box pushed the air straight from your lungs and left you gasping.

The back of your head had hit the wooden floorboards so hard, you immediately saw stars.

After impact, for a short moment, it was pin-drop silent. Anne froze, pausing for a moment, listening. She was waiting for you to go "I'm all right!", but that never came.

Joe was ripped from his book at the sound of the fall, but was confused. One moment you'd been there, and then now, you were gone.

When a soft wincing gasp was heard from where you were hidden form his view, he was on his feet in an instant, rounding the counter and finding you there on the floor, box of books heavy on your stomach, eyes completely glazed over as you rapidly blinked up at the ceiling in an attempt to erase the fuzzy bits in your vision.

"Oh my G– Anne!" Joe was quick to remove the box and the books that were tumbling out. "Breathe. Careful, don't move, just focus on breathing." Joe advised as he watched you struggle.

"What dropped?" Anne asked, getting closer now and trying to find the source of the whack.

"She did."

"I know she did, but what was that–"

"That was her." Joe tried to make eye-contact. "Hey, just breathe, all right? Are you hurt?"

The eye-contact failed, as did answering Joe's question.

You hadn't even properly heard him it felt like.

Anne and Joe shared a look, for a moment both unsure of what to do. Who was going to take the lead on this? Joe didn't work there, but Anne was a literal teenager.

Before they could even think of discussing a game plan, you incoherently asked through a constricted panicked voice if anyone had thought of the fire escape. They both turned to look at you, both faces frowning in confusion.

"Huh?"

"What was that?"

Joe and Anne spoke at the same time.

"I think I forgot. Are the bugs gone?" you winced as you moved a hand to where your head hurt, and Joe was quick in deciding he was going to have to be the one to call the shots on this. He'd clearly chosen to spend all day at the bookstore for a reason, so it seemed.

It took a little while for you to return to normal.

You babbled through some more disjointed chat whilst Joe carefully checked with his fingers if your head was bleeding. It wasn't, which was good. But you did wince in pain as he slowly felt around in your hair before you tried to sit up and take your shoes off.

Anne had to fight you back down onto the floor and sternly told you to relax whilst Joe slid his folded jacket underneath your head.

When your consciousness returned into the room, you were met by a girl sat by your side who was scrolling through concussion symptoms, and a guy stood up by your feet, talking to someone on the phone.

"What's going on?" You'd asked, and Anne had just casually said, "You fell."

Joe'd called your mum on your phone. Anne knew the code. Joe told himself he'd give her a stern talk about normal-people things like privacy later. Priorities lied elsewhere right now.

And then you'd thrown up into the box of books that had taken you down earlier.

Served it right, Joe thought.

Joe'd held your hair through it, and kept brushing back little pieces that kept falling into your face. His touches were so tender and gentle but they still hurt, and you were absolutely mortified. So fucking embarrassed. There was a fucking celebrity in the store and you were vomming into a box of books that, halfway through, got swapped for an empty bucket.

It smelled awful, and it probably was the most unattractive thing in the world.

You felt like the most unattractive thing in the world.

"Sorry you had to see that." you croaked when Anne handed you a glass of water to rinse your mouth.

"We think you're concussed."

Somehow, that made perfect sense.

"You took quite the tumble. The back of your head must be hurting."

You moved to sit with your back against a cupboard door, careful to not lean your head back too far, and Joe decided to stay put next to you. Keep an eye on you. Hold your hair back in case you weren't quite done throwing up yet.

Meanwhile, Anne had moved into the backroom and did her best in trying to save whatever books she could from where you'd thrown up over them.

"Do you have any pain anywhere else?"

You paused a second to focus on the feelings inside of your body, and then moved an arm to touch the opposite elbow.

"Your elbow? Are you bleeding?" Joe used a soft hand to move your arm so he could have a look. "Does it hurt a lot?" No broken skin. Joe hoped that maybe the blow he'd heard had been your elbow, and not your actual skull.

"Stop asking her a million questions!" Anne shouted from the back, like she hadn't been doing the exact same thing before.

"You'd tell me if you weren't okay, wouldn't you?" Joe's voice remained soft and warm for you. All kind and gentle.

For a moment, you just looked at him.

"Hi," he smiled, and he saw how you were trying to puzzle the situation together. "I'm Joe."

"I know who you are."

"Oh, that's great!" Joe exclaimed.

"Were you... did you happen to just be in here to buy books, or..."

Oh.

Not so great.

You knew who he was, but you didn't know who he was.

"Um, no, not really. I actually come in here a lot. I um... you let me hog one of the armchairs where I read books."

"You do?"

"Yea, it's awfully rude of me." Joe smiled. "But I'm lucky. You're very cool about it."

Joe could feel his chest swell at the faintest hint of a smile coming from you.

"He's your boyfriend." Anne bluntly interrupted as she stepped back into the storefront, and before you could even begin to process that wild bit of information, she added, "But not really. The two of you are... you're really weird about it."

It sounded like a weird joke, and you looked between the both of them to figure out what the punchline was, because you didn't get it.

Joe just smiled when you looked at him.

"She hates it."

"I do." Anne confirmed, walking across the store to move the sign on the door to 'closed'. Your mum was going to come by and pick you up to get your head checked and there was no way Anne wasn't going to go with.

Joe craned his head to watch Anne as she went to fetch the A-frame out front and then leant close and whispered, "We kind of like that she hates it."

That made you smile into your lap.

"Have you um..." you started, suddenly frowning. "Do you have a plaster for me?"

Joe's concern immediately grew again. He wasn't quite back where he was twenty minutes ago, when you'd laid right where he was sitting now, unable to catch your breath properly, but his eyes bulged like he was just as worried anyway.

"Why? Are you bleeding? Where?"

"I've not finished my homework."

"You've not..." Joe tried to make sense of something nonsensical before he realised he'd lost you again.

Joe wondered if he could let someone know he wasn't going to be able to leave the city tomorrow. Let alone the fucking country. The prospect of leaving you like this for a few weeks and having to actually do a job seemed impossible.

How was he not going to be thinking about you all the time?

To be fair, his life was already like that, a little.

But especially now; after all this, no one could expect him to not constantly worry if you were all right, could they?

"I don't think I've got any plasters for you, sorry."

"Oh," you seemed disappointed, but only for a second. "You bought Blindness from me."

There you were. Back again. God, he really did already miss you, even though you were right there.

"I did."

"You hadn't... you'd not read it, but you'd seen the film."

"I had."

"I remember."

"Read it in one day."

You'd likely be fine.

People got concussions all the time, didn't they?

"Sorry, I'm all over the place."

"You're not actually," Joe smiled. "You're right here."

Joe was going to leave the country tomorrow, and you'd stay with your mum until you'd be one hundred per cent again. You would keep the store closed, so there was no use in him hanging around anyway. And then, when you'd be all better, he'd pop back in on a random Tuesday morning without any warning, and then he could tell you all about today. You'd likely not remember a thing of it, all of it a lost moment to you, but one that he'd get to keep. Get to cherish. Get to share with you later.

"My head hurts..." you suddenly said like you'd only just realised it.

"Yea, you fell." Joe could go through this loop again, he didn't mind.

"I did?"

"Hmm, we think you're concussed. Your mum is coming to pick you up, have you checked out by a doctor to double check and make sure you're okay."

"We?"

Joe saw how you went to reach for the back of your head again, but before your fingers could disappear into your hair, the bell above the door chimed and Anne said, "No sign of her yet."

"That's Anne." Joe calmly explained, and then reached to grab hold of your hand, protecting you from touching your painful bits again. He'd make sure to hold it until your mum arrived.

Joe saw your eyes grow wide as you recognised him again, and smiled.

"And I'm Joe."

---

The Taglisted

@ali-in-w0nderland, @alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson,

@choke-me-eddie, @demonsanddemogorgons, @did-it-work, @dirtyeddietini, @djoseph-quinn,

@dolcevit4, @eddies-puppet, @emma-munson, @emotionaldreamer, @everythinghasafacee,

@figmentofquinn, @ghost-proofbaby, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @hanahkatexo, @harringtonfan4,

@hazelenys, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @keikoraven, @kennedy-brooke,

@lovelyblueness, @manda-panda-monium, @mandyjo8719, @mexicanfolklore, @munsonluvrr,

@munson-mjstan, @nadixq, @nglharry, @notverywise, @pepperstories,

@phyllosilicate-s, @royale1803, @sherrylyn0628, @sidthedollface2, @solzi1420,

@songforeddiemunson, @sweetberry47, @take-everything-you-can, @thebellenouvelle, @tlclick73,

@werepartnersnow, @winterwakesthewolf, @witchwolflea, @yelyahcardella, @yunirgo

taglist currently full, sorry

[apomaro-mellow]

King and Prince 14

Part 13

Steve’s schedule kept him busy, which he was certainly glad for. He didn’t have a lot of time to think about his father, or the kingdom that wouldn’t miss him. Any thoughts of his uselessness or his failure at being a proper prince were pushed out when Dustin asked him a random question, or Lucas needed his help, or he had to go up against Max’s wit.

About every other night, he was visited by his feathered friend. It didn’t come bearing food. And in fact, didn’t really come in. Steve would just catch it sometimes, peering at him from the window for a moment before flying off. Almost like it was checking in on him.

Steve made Lucas stop in his attack and nudged his foot with the tip of his staff, widening his stance. Steve was making Lucas try out different weapons and fighting styles to see what truly fit him.

“I know swords are really popular. But there’s more than one way to defend yourself.”

He’d been watching his movements closely and paying attention to how he reacted to things. Honestly, Lucas seemed more suited to something long range. Perhaps archery. Steve had yet to see a range but any castle would employ some sort of archer garrison. 

Steve saw black wings soar briefly overhead, but of course he didn’t connect it to the ones that flapped by his window most nights. Why would he?

He was given the task of reshelving books in the library. An easy task since the sections were labeled for organization. At the tail end of this task, he noticed Dustin and El pouring over a book, seeming deep in their studies. Interest piqued, he approached them.

“What are you two getting into?”, he asked.

“Animal husbandry”, El answered.

“Eddie said if we’re responsible, we can get a pet”, Dustin said. “So we’re trying to decide what sort of animal to get.”

Steve looked over their shoulders to see what kind of creatures they were looking at. He didn’t know whether to expect a demogorgon or a cat. Either one seemed likely with these people. He honestly wasn’t prepared for the picture of an octopus. Steve was no stranger to the ocean. His kingdom had a shore that he had been too often and he was a talented swimmer. This place was landlocked though. 

“Where are you going to find and octopus?”, Steve asked.

“The ocean”, Dustin said like Steve was a child.

“You think it’s going to be that easy to transport it?”

“It’s funny you think that’s the issue”, Robin said, appearing from one of the shelves. “How are they gonna keep it here?”

“It’d be fine in a bathtub”, Steve reasoned.

The look on Robin’s face could only be described as exasperation as she blew out a breath and shook her head. But Steve was used to it at this point. The kids saw him as just a new fixture to their home, had just about accepted him completely. It was everyone else that continued to treat him for what he was, a prince who had wanted this kingdom’s downfall until just recently.

But sometimes…

Sometimes there were moments where he felt something changing between himself and them. Robin didn’t always look like she was the one babysitting him anymore. It was still obviously a chore to her, but not as bad as it had been at the beginning. She was even beginning to tolerate him.

A week before the festival, the kids were given new clothes, both for the celebration and to look nice for the performance. Steve couldn’t help but be a tad jealous of the colors and patterns. His own meager wardrobe was an assortment of brown, gray, and white. But he kept his feelings off his face, choosing instead to encourage them to appreciate the new outfits.

“Why can’t we just wear what we normally do?”, Dustin asked.

“Because it’s a special occasion”, Steve rolled his eyes. “Do you know how many people would kill to have a royal seamstress make them a custom outfit?”

“I think I’d kill to not have to wear this”, Mike said, holding up something orange.

“Big talk from someone who squealed at a spider the other day”, Eddie said, entering the room. 

Steve noted that the king’s clothing was usually dark, typically blacks and deep reds. Even as others were moving to brighter, more colorful looks for spring. He didn’t know why he expected different. He didn’t like admitting it, but the king’s appearance was striking in its own way. He always cut an impressive figure, despite being about the same height as Steve. It was a combination of the way he carried himself, his silhouette, and having pointed canines didn’t hurt either.

Among them all, Steve felt like a piece of the background which was…new. And he was sure if he liked it. He supposed it was better than wearing a sign that said he was the son of the Harringtons. He already got glares from people in the castle as it was anytime he was alone. Steve wasn’t fearful for his life. He was pretty confident in his ability to defend himself in a fight. It was a question of what would happen to him once he did. Would the king be so welcoming if he snapped the neck of a guard trying to end him?

—----------------------

Robin and Eddie stood and listened as the kids played the song they’d been practicing in the music room. A lilting piece that heralded the end of winter and the beginning of spring. Robin’s expression was pleased at the progress they’d made in such a short time. It wasn’t perfect, but most of them hadn’t ever picked up an instrument seriously before. Eddie was clapping his hands so loud, it sounded like the pop of a firework with the acoustics of the room. Steve was leaning against the wall, prepared to help put things away once they were done.

“You guys were incredible!”, Eddie praised.

And hearing it from someone they admired so much had even the more prickly of them blushing bashfully. Steve still remembered Dustin grumbling for the first couple of practices and Mike complaining when he’d been moved from lute to flute. But Robin knew what she had been doing. Steve was impressed, truly. 

“That’s why we practice”, Robin smiled.

“And it’s still days before the show”, Eddie said. “For now though, I think you all deserve a reward. So let’s head on down to the kitchen for some tarts.”

The kids all rushed out at that, Robin and Eddie following behind to make sure they didn’t bulldoze anyone over on the way. Only Steve stayed behind, getting started on putting their instruments away. He paused when he passed the clavichord. An instrument no one had picked and wasn’t included in the current arrangement. Steve felt a wave of nostalgia for his own music teacher. She was always so patient and doled out praise whenever he did well.

He let his fingers brush against the keys. He looked to the door, closed, and it sounded like the group was no longer nearby. So Steve sat down and tried out a little melody. It felt like so long since he had played and he couldn’t even blame it on his imprisonment. His parents had never been impressed with music, even when his instructor told them how good he was. He would play from time to time, just never in front of anyone.

“You shouldn’t mess with Robin’s things.”

“Agh! Fuck!”, Steve jolted in the air when the king’s voice sounded from right next to him. “Must you move in shadows?”

Eddie smirked. “It is the best way to travel, but this time I just used the door. I didn’t know you played.” He put a hand against the frame, steading himself as he leaned over, hair falling over his shoulders. 

Steve looked away from him, not understanding why the gaze felt so intense. “I don’t…much.”

“What other hidden talents are you hiding?”

At that, Steve raised a brow, wondering what he was getting at. Did the king still think he was harboring something? Was he of the same mind as Nancy? Steve had nothing up his sleeve and nothing to hide, so he answered.

“I can also play the hurdy gurdy, but that’s not as popular as this.”

And then the king laughed.

At something Steve had said.

“Come on, I promised a sweet for all those who put in good work. That includes you, little prince.”

The king offered his hand to help Steve to his feet. Steve stared for a moment before taking it.

Part 15

Tag team

@thesuninyaface @only-evanescent @snakeorsquid @ignoremyworld @theclichefortunecookie @goodolefashionedloverboi @just-a-tiny-void @0body0disphoria0 @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @samsoble @jamieweasley13 @y4r3luv @xtkxkrzrizir @un-knownperson @greekgeek24 @justdrugsformethanks @potato-of-the-lord @notaqueenakhaleesi @swimmingbirdrunningrock @queenie-ofthe-void @nebulainajar @lil-gremlin-things @nicememerino @robininblue @hornedqueenofhell @anne-bennett-cosplayer @moomkin77 @here4thetrama @bookworm0690 @autumncrocusandladybug @lil-gremlin-things

[oh-snapperss]

is this entertaining?

<Join Game?> 

The text on his communicator is odd–Mumbo can’t remember the last time he had been asked to join a server, not since Xisuma had sent him the invitation to Hermitcraft. Ever since, season hops had been done differently, with Xisuma sending the server address privately so that Mumbo could join on his own time. Nothing else about the day seemed off–the sun shone brightly overhead, with the ancient monument casting shadows over half his shulker boxes. The vines growing over it seemed to have gotten twice as long overnight, which Mumbo personally felt added to the atmosphere of his base. 

Then again, that didn’t really matter now, did it? Season seven was coming to a close, and most hermits had already headed offworld to visit private servers, other friends, or just explore. The ones left were simply wrapping up, preparing for the move to season eight. Grian hadn’t left yet–Mumbo was sure he’d stop by later to check in first. 

Except–

<Grian left  the game>

Mumbo frowns, his eyebrows creasing. Surely Grian hadn’t just left? 

<GoodtimewithScar left  the game> <Etho left  the game> <Bdoubleo100 left  the game>

That…that was odd. For a fraction of a second, Mumbo glances down at the glowing purple text still taunting him on his communicator and wonders. 

And then he tucks it away with a shrug. Whatever the invite, he had no idea what it was, so maybe he’d ask X about it later. Or something. 

The others would be back soon anyway. 

They would. 

--------------------------------------

<Join Game?>

Oh, hell. Mumbo stares down at the purple text, not nearly as confused as he had been last time. 

Season eight was underway, with the Boatem crew growing closer and closer. Mumbo had found out fairly quickly what the glowing text meant when Impulse, Grian, and Scar had seemed distant, only for Grian to come flying into his bedroom late one night in tears. 

“A game…” Grian had whispered, face tucked away into Mumbo’s chest. In the moment, Mumbo’s face was a mixture of bafflement and concern for his friend, but as Grian had whispered out his actions, whispered out the alliances and deaths and kills, he’d started to understand. 

Now, Mumbo stands, gazing down at it. Easy decision. Not pressing that join button. And he was quite sure nobody else would press it either, not following the aftermath of the first game. 

But then again, Mumbo should have known Grian couldn’t ever turn down a chance to press a button. 

He should have known that to some it was only ever a game to some, should have known that it had never been a game to others, should have known there was unfinished business drawn in the sands of a desert he’d never been to. 

<Etho left  the game> <Bdoubleo100 left  the game> <ImpulseSV left the game> <Grian left the game> <GoodtimewithScar left the game> <PearlescentMoon left the game> <Renthedog left the game> <Tango left the game> <ZombieCleo left the game>

“Seriously?” Mumbo feels lightheaded, watching the chat fill almost instantly. “Whatever for?” 

The other hermits are talking, wondering and worried. Mumbo should join them, chime in with what he knows. 

Instead he does what might quite possibly be just his dumbest decision he’s ever made, and that’s saying a lot. 

<MumboJumbo joined the game>

--------------------------------------

<Join Game?>

“We can still be friends, Mumbo!” Grian’s crazed smile doesn’t slip from his face as he stalks forward, pickaxe clutched in his hand so tightly Mumbo can see it shaking. “There’s a way we can still be together!” 

That text shouldn’t be there. He’d disabled any and all chat messages from his comm the moment he’d arrived on the singleplayer world he’d found. 

He’s alone, he’s on a world right at the edge of the universe, somewhere caught between the past worlds and ones not yet created. There’s experimental elements, plants Mumbo is sure shouldn’t exist in the overworld or any realm, combined with elements that he’s also sure disappeared many, many servers ago. The world itself is unstable, and it’s perfect. Nobody would think to look for him here, and in this way, Mumbo can have his much needed solitude. 

He’d reassured Grian it had nothing to do with Last Life. 

It didn’t. That was months ago, after all! Months! And they’d been on season nine for weeks! Moon crash and all that aside, he was quite alright, he just needed a break. 

And it had absolutely nothing to do with Last Life. 

Definitely. 

So when he takes his communicator and tucks it into a shulker with shaking hands, before deciding to explore the opposite side of the world instead of even thinking about clicking that damned Join Game? button…it’s only because of his interest in the experimental elements. 

He wonders how many of them went back this time. 

--------------------------------------

<Join Game?>

“No thanks, I’m good mate!” Mumbo shakes his head, already turning back to the flooring of his definitely full vault. 

(Although…) 

“No, no,” Mumbo keeps his hands away from his communicator. He knows at this point nearly everyone will go back, having heard about it from Grian and the others when he’d come back from his break. Honestly, he still doesn’t get it. Out of everything they could be doing, between base work and pranks, he can’t imagine why everyone consistently chooses to go back. It doesn’t make sense. 

Maybe he ought to ask someone other than Grian, since his friend seemed to enjoy them in some sort of sick, twisted way–almost as if the red life in him had never fully left after enough times. 

But not this time. 

--------------------------------------

<Join Game?>

One more time. He just wants to understand. 

And maybe…maybe he missed using those end crystals more than he’d like to admit. 

<MumboJumbo joined the game>

W̵̱̻̭͇͎͚͚͕͇̣̲͚̤͇͔͑͆̋̑e̵͔̞̮̹͓͗̍̐̿̊̓̀̔̉ͅl̸̢̡̲̯͚̭̺̝̞̘̇̐͗̐c̴͔̯̟̭͔̠̝̦̻̮̜̟͕̪̠͋̉̾̑͂͐̾͑ơ̵͎̭̟̹̪̦̳̻̮̩̥͉͖̹̑̊͋̈́̔̍̃̄̈̕̚m̶̨̛͖͕͇͕̬̟͍̪̾͋̊͆́̃̓̀̽͝e̵̬͎͌̆́̊̆̎͐̿̂̕͠ͅ ̴̧̡̡̛̘̥̮̗͓̞͕͇͈̺̫͊͛͑̉͑̾̂̍͂̎̓̚͝͝b̷̨͍̲͓̖͎̣̉́́̾͋͑͊̄͋̏̈́͂̃̕ḁ̸̡͙͚̬̜̫̔̑̏̓̀̇́̅̈́͋͒̈̒̚͠c̵͓̰͈̙̼̝̺̪̱̍̍̋́͊̏͊̕ͅk̶̬̘̦̟̙͖̩̭͇̻͇͚̥͊̒͐͑͐̕͝!

this is an addition to this fic!

[b-imbou]

honey baby (SPOILED!)

Ran Haitani x f!reader | Rin Haitani x f!reader

Genre: smut & angst Notes: christening my new blog with a new series! I got inspired while listening to Kali Uchis’ TO FEEL ALIVE EP. The series is set in the 80s but the era isn’t really a huge part of the story. And it’s also set in Italy! There will be some dark content but all warnings will be added accordingly. Happy reading! Warnings: cheating, oral sex, possessiveness, masturbation. Words: 11.7k

Another gift from your daddy.

You’ve been getting a lot of those lately. You’ve been working under Mitsuya since you moved to The Amalfi Coast three years ago. But who paid for your travel costs and air fare? Papà. Who continues to subsidise your living expenses? Papà does. Suya often teases you, calls you spoiled. You are. Always have been, and you think you always will be.

Papà shouldn’t mind.

What use is being rich if he can’t give his baby girl anything she wants?

Papà wouldn’t mind.

What else would drive him to work so hard but providing for his favourite daughter?

Papà doesn’t mind.                    

His favourite daughter is his only daughter, after all.

He was willing, albeit a little hesitant, to allow his pride and joy to fly across the globe and set up a new life for herself overseas. You have daily phone calls with him. More often than not, the conversation is nothing of importance. Simply asking and telling how your days are. He visits, sometimes. One of the reasons he was prepared to allow you to move to Italy was that he had a valid reason to visit. He’s able to spend some time with his treasure and tend to one of his many businesses while he’s in the country. It makes him feel powerful. To be in the presence of men under his employ and offer a more hands on approach.

Your papà writes letters, though those are more cryptic. He relies on you from time to time to keep him informed on his businesses while he doesn’t have a physical presence in Italy.

“Diamond earrings, tch. You are spoilt.” Mitsuya smirks. “Spin for me, baby. Don’t be shy.” he instructs his client standing on a pedestal before him. He isn’t sure why he hired you considering you don’t do much actual work. But at least you’re good company and a good model for his clothes.

Your papà loves Mitsuya. He checks in with him whenever comes to Italy. He’d quite like it if you married a man like Mitsuya. No, not like him. Him. Just him. But whenever your father brings it up you can both barely conceal your amusement. You’re friends. Just friends.

“Aren’t they to die for?” you muse, sighing dreamily as you admire yourself and the twinkling jewels in the mirror in front of you.

You’re sitting crossed legged on a stool by the cash register, a pen in one hand and your chin resting in the other. The sound of your pen scribbling on the alabaster sheet of paper before you is positively deafening. Mitsuya is trying to keep his composure in front of his client; but she’s smiling as she notes the growing annoyance on your boss’ face. There is a clothes pin between his teeth that he’s clenching for more reasons than one. Resting on the balls of his feet as he works on the pure white wedding dress in front of him.

“Is that your papà you’re writing to?” he asks begrudgingly. You shake your head, not looking at him as you smile down at your whimsical writing, remembering to dot the I’s in your letter with hearts instead. He loves that.

“Careful, bella. People will talk if you keep secrets about men. They’ll think you’re sleeping with un mafioso.” the woman getting her wedding dress adjusted tells you in whispers. It piques your interest as well as the attention of Mitsuya, who scoffs a little before resuming his work.

“No way, signorina, her papà would have her taken back to the states if that were true. And… just, look at her. She’s a pain in my ass but she’s a good girl. Too good to get mixed up with a mafia man.” he explains with purpose, a small laugh punctuating the final few words of his sentence.

You look up from your letter, plump lips pulling into a rosy, red smile as an expression of truth. It’s enough for Mitsuya and the bride-to-be to leave you to your own devices. Finishing off the final words of your letter before kissing a crimson mark into the paper. You spray it with your favourite perfume before sealing it away like a it’s government secrets into a secure envelope. And you’re just such a romantic. You tie it all together with some string and secure a loose, dainty flower from the floral display sitting atop the checkout counter to it all. You write amore mio in the bottom right corner in small and gentle letters that you hope he’ll be able to read.

“Scusi, mi scusi, Mitsuya—”

“Si?”

“Can I go for a break, per favore?” you question. He shakes his head before instantly grinning as his eyes find yours.

“Whenever you come into work, your whole shift is a break!” he reminds you. It makes your cheeks warm and an evident bashfulness arises from within and paints your whole exterior. “Go, go away. Only if you buy oranges for me. I’m craving citrus.”

“Si! Thank you, Suya.” you beam at him, picking up two wicker baskets from beneath the counter and walking by him and the client before exiting into the sweltering sun.

You take your time, as you often do, walking slowly as to let the sunshine melt into your supple skin. It always makes you feel like you’re going to live forever, living this life. Taking it easy on the Italian Coast and doing as you please.

It suits you just fine.

There are familiar faces on your journey to the market; faces that can’t help but light up as they notice yours. Exchanges of ‘Ciao’ and ‘Ciao bella’ are swapped between you and each person you can’t help but greet upon seeing them. There’s no mistaking it, not from anyone.

You’re in love.

Like your father, everyone expects you and Mitsuya to be a perfect match. Though it couldn’t be further from the truth. Admittedly, when you had met Mitsuya on arrival to Italy, there was no denying an attraction between the two of you. You slept together, once… twice… five times, deciding you get along better as friends and more than happy to keep it that way. Your father would be broken to discover you aren’t as innocent as he believes you to be, but he doesn’t need to know. He’s halfway across the world, so whatever you get up to is more or less going to be taken to the grave with you.

“Ciao!” you greet the fruit grocer as you look carefully around the market. He smiles when he notices you. It isn’t lost on you that he has a crush on you, he has from the minute he set his sights on you, but your heart belongs to another.

“C-Ciao, bella. Can- um, can I help you with—?”

“Suya wants his citrus fix, Hakkai. Would you be able to fill this basket with oranges for me, please?” you politely ask, a soothing sounding tone emanating from your lips. He nods, gratefully. You’re so kind to him. Not because you want to lead him on, you’re just a kind, sweet soul. And Hakkai, bless him, he’s so shy. No matter how lovely you are to him, he doesn’t seem able to acquire any newfound confidence to talk to you. If anything, you think it might have made him worse.

“Yeah, o-of course. And, the, uh— o-other basket?” he manages to stumble out his sentence as he looks down at the wicker currently housing your love letter. You pick it up, holding the beautifully scented correspondence betwixt dainty little fingers. It’s brought closer to your chest, your heart. You smile shyly as you hope he doesn’t interrogate you over it.

“It’s a gift. So, I’ll let you fill it and make it look nice for me.” you tell him. He nods, stepping out from behind the counter with Mitsuya’s basket first.

He doesn’t normally do this. Fill the baskets of customers for them. But you didn’t know that when you first visited him for a basket of peaches all of those years ago. And, really, how could he say no to a pretty little thing like you?

Neither of you speak as he works, so you merely observe. You wish he had even a modicum of social skill. Mitsuya claims he’s real talkative when they spend time together, but how can that be true? Trying to converse with Hakkai is like trying to pull teeth from the gaping maw of a great white. Watching him do something so regular, so normal and mundane, is making you feel somewhat like a perverse voyeur.

You’re saved, thankfully, when an elderly woman who you’re familiar with greets you. She takes a seat on a nearby bench, and you feel inclined to join her. You talk for a little while as you keep allowing your vision to alternate between her and Hakkai.

“Are those diamonds in your ears, bella?” she queries, reaching her hand up to feel and caress your earlobes. You don’t mind, though. The apples in your cheeks swelling tenfold with pride as you consider all of the compliments you’ve received on them today.

“Si,” you grin, tucking your hair behind your ears for her to study them both properly. They’re glittering even more in the sunlight. Enough to blind anyone who looked directly at them if they weren’t careful.

“A gift from that wonderful papà of yours?” she wonders. Your lips pout but quickly form a smile, eyes twinkling with mischief as you hold her gaze and consider your answer.

“From my daddy,” you tell her. She clutches her heart and exhales yearningly at your response. Her eyebrows become a slight more angular as she uses her free hand to take yours.

“He is a good man, that papà of yours. If only I were thirty years younger.” she tells you, it makes you giggle. Your papà is a handsome man, and happily married to your mother. You don’t blame the elderly woman for having a crush. He’s ridiculously charming and well-to-do. He dresses smart and oozes confidence, earning the respect of any and all he comes into contact with. “Your grocery boy is waiting,” she points. Your head swivels to face him and he awkwardly waves when you notice him standing beside two baskets filled to the brim with fruit.

“Oh! I’m sorry, I need to pay for those. It was nice catching up with you.” you smile, waving goodbye as you walk over to Hakkai. “How much do I owe you?” you ask him.

“I-It’s fine. I’ll let Mitsuya know next time I see him…” he tells you, rubbing the back of his neck stiffly, unable to keep eye contact with you more than a few seconds. You ask him if he’s sure, and he insists. “Yeah, uh, he can take it out of your pay cheque or something, right? It’s okay, really. What’s a few Lira, anyway?”

You walk around the stall to give him a chaste kiss on the cheek. It’s walking a fine line between platonic and romantic, easily leaving room for the affection to be misconstrued by the poor boy. To you, it was nothing but an act of gratitude. You smile at him, waving a delicate goodbye as you continue your expedition, with no idea you were being watched the whole time.

It’s impossible to keep a low profile in such a tight-knit community. Though in this area of town it would be difficult to explain to anyone why you’re on this particular doorstep. Your heart beats quicker and quicker as you stand and wait. A young couple noticing you and gasping. They call to you, ‘Bella! It isn’t safe, here, come away from there and come with us!” with a prominent begging tone behind the panicked words.

You smile, easily, shaking away their offer with an almost flapping hand gesture. It’s all you can do to assure them that you’re fine, as well as speaking the words. And, of course, they’re too terrified to argue your naivety and risk sticking around a second longer.

The door swings open aggressively, with such a ferocious violence to make your dress billow around you as it follows the bracing breeze created from the wooden entrance.

“Amore mio, I’ve told you time and time again not to come here. Haven’t I?” and there he is. The objection or your affection. The recipient of your fruit basket and the romantically written letter you wrote all for him.

“I know, ‘m sorry. I wanted to see you, Ran! Wanted to say thank—”

“Come in before anyone sees you, come.” he demands, ushering you inside. Just as he’s about to close the door behind you both, a large palm flattens against it and pushes it open wider. “Rindou.” your lover responds to the brazen sound of his brother’s heavy hand connecting with the splintering wood. He comes inside as well, a usual intense glare on the younger sibling’s face as he walks by you.

Ran looks at you from the corner of his eyes, intending to focus more on his less than savoury roommates whilst in your presence. He looks at you properly, however, when you subtly clear your throat. He watches you raise the wicker basket you got for him with the love letter on top. He points to a console table for you to set it down on, and you look between him and the tabletop before sighing gently.

“Actually, Ran, they’re um—”

“Don’t tell us you brought two baskets of fruit and you’re hoarding them both for Haitani?” Sanzu questions you. Your gaze drops to the ground, he isn’t the leader, but somehow Sanzu has managed to solidify himself as the scariest member of the group.

“Leave her alone, Bastardo. My sweet bambina didn’t do anything wrong.” Ran interjects, pulling your body into his side, towering above you as his hand rubs roughly up and down your arm.

“Tch,” Rindou scoffs, leaning against a wall and garnering the attention of yourself and the other three men in the room. “Your little signorina put her lips on the grocer.” he announces, making you realise he had been hot on your trail likely since you left Mitsuya’s boutique.

“Scusi? Are you fucking kidding me?” Ran’s voice booms throughout the room, prompting Rindou and Sanzu to smirk at each other while Takeomi opts to retreat to the balcony for a cigarette instead. “You’re fucking the market grocery boy, is that a joke?”

“N-No! Not at all. Rindou, you’re making it sound awful. I was saying thank you, s’all. He picked all of the fruit for me and told me I could pay later!” you defend yourself to each man in the room despite having no reason to. You didn’t do anything wrong. You carry yourself with confidence over to the coffee table in front of Sanzu, placing the fruit basket and removing your letter to Ran from the top. “Help yourselves. This basket is for my boss.” you inform them as you walk back to Ran. He’s visibly irritated and his compassionate embrace has become rigid and uninterested.

Rindou swaggers from the hallway to the couch and rifles through the fruit basket. He picks up a juicy looking red apple, throwing it in the air once and catching it quickly as he brings it to his lips. Teeth emerge and a satisfying crunch pierces the skin, apple juice drooling ever so slightly down his chin.

“That basket was for you… and so is this,” you speak gently to Ran as you hold your letter out to him. You want so badly for him to take it, but he does nought but stare. “Can we go to your room?” you wonder, meekly, hoping he’ll soften as he normally does when you make yourself sound a might smaller.

“I told you not to come here. I’ve told you, so many times.” he replies. You gulp, carefully, nodding at your wrongdoing and outright defiance. His brother and Sanzu are looking over as they continue to eat the fruit you brought. Rindou has even put his glasses on. They smirk each time you look over, their presence is making every word you want to say evaporate from your tongue.

“Please?” you request, looking at him with pleading eyes. He nods, casually, lacing his fingers with yours after taking your love letter in his free hand.

You’re guided up the stairs and into his bedroom. The creamy curtains waving loosely from the outdoor breeze coming into the elder Haitani’s sanctuary. The sun is pouring through the open balcony door and kissing each and every object in his room with a grazing warmth. The Amalfi Coast air often consists of a lemon and jasmine flowers laced with the smell of the salty sea. Ran’s room was no different with only the addition of his natural scent intertwined with the hickory and sandalwood cologne he’s so fond of and his signature cigars.

He loosens his tie and kicks off his shoes, not even bothering to deign you worthy of his gaze just yet. Your heart tears in two when you watch him toss your carefully crafted letter onto the bed like it’s nothing. He lights a cigar with a silver lighter kept in the inner breast pocket of his blazer, walking out onto the balcony to smoke. You can only hope the fresh air and tepid breeze will offer him some perspective and clarity on what has transpired.

“Look,” you smile, slowly approaching and yet again tucking your hair behind your ears to flaunt your diamonds. “They’re beautiful. That’s why I came, daddy. Wanted to say thank you for my new earrings.” you tell him, truthfully. He smiles lazily, flicking some ash over the railing before taking another drag.

“You’re beautiful, baby. My pretty girl, they suit you.” he replies. You’re holding his hand again now, he recognises you’ll want his full attention and quickly stubs out his cigar, hoping to salvage it later. You pull him anxiously back into his room and to sit on the edge of the bed beside you. Your body rotates so that you can better face him. His legs spread a little as he rests on his elbows on the plush mattress beneath you both. “Well?”

“Well? Well… what, daddy?” you question. He obnoxiously sucks his teeth and shakes his head so quickly and minimally you would have missed it had you blinked. “I don’t understand—”

“Course you don’t. Pretty little head’s just filled with daddy, si? How good to you I am and how much you love me.” he declares. You nod, agreeing, despite it not being the whole truth. He likes to dumb you down, but you know it isn’t true. You’re more agreeable and mean more to him when he sees you as a little clueless and with no purpose in life outside of him. You don’t mind, though. You love him, after all. “I buy diamonds for my love, and all I get is a thank you? I think you can do better for me, baby,” he insists, his fingers reach up to tuck a fallen loose strand back behind your ear and lets his fingers trail and trace your jawline. His hand settles as his finger and thumb pinch the soft flesh of your chin and force you gently to better face him.

“Of course not, daddy. The fruit was s’posed to be all yours. And I wrote you… this,” you explain as your fingertips pad around on the bed searching for the letter you worked so hard on. You smile when you feel it, picking it up and practically shoving it in his face. “Please read it, daddy. You’ll like it, I’m sure!” you encourage him. He takes it from your hand again and inspects it like an art critic. His features soften and he can’t help but simper at the sight of your precious penmanship writing amore mio for him so microscopic he almost missed it.

“I’m sure I’ll love it, bella.” he nods concurring with you and recognising the lengths you’ve gone to with your little craft project. “But these are diamonds, bambina.” he reminds you. You nod, giving him your full attention as he talks. His fingers sensually caress your right earlobe as he inspects the jewels worth more than your life dangling from them.

“I love you, daddy. I wrote such nice things for you; I love you and I’m so grateful for the diamonds.” you express. His fingers begin to wander again, now playing softly with your hair, allowing his digits to smooth over the top of your locks as if you were his pet. His good girl. You suppose that’s exactly what you are. “Is it, my body? Do you want to make love to me, daddy?”

“In a sense, si.” he smiles. “Your body is of greater value than any diamond. I’m not in the mood to make love, baby. You’re meant to be thanking me, not the other way around.” he reminds you.

“My… would you like my mouth?” you suggest. He nods, finally, you got it right.

“Yes, my love. Your head is what is wearing the earrings, so you’ll thank me by sucking my cock. Let daddy fuck your face, mm?” he suggests.

Instantly, you’re nodding; you slip down from the bed and onto the uncomfortable tile beneath. He leans towards his plump pillows, picking one up and helping you place it beneath your knees. You watch him with a wanton dazzle in your eye as he takes his time undoing his belt. It makes him smirk, watching you wait so patiently and adoringly for him to pull his cock out.

It springs free, and your jaw lowers hastily; the expression not going unnoticed by Ran. His breath is heavy when he allows his cock to spring free. You’re hesitant to make a move without his say so, ever the obedient good girl. You wiggle on your knees, looking pensively between his dreamy lilac irises and his pink blushing cock. Only when you hold your stare with his, and flutter your long lashes at him, he nods his head at you. Go ahead, the gesture implies.

Oral sex with Ran Haitani is as much of a pleasure for you as it is for him. It’s a romantic, teasing dance in which you vow to make him feel good and that he trusts you to do as you’re promising. You take your time slowly rubbing his shaft and caressing his sack with the pads of your fingers, and even this simple beginning is enough to rob him of an almost imperceptible moan. They take hold, spread fingers guiding his tip into your mouth before slowly wrapping your plush lips around him.

And you’re cheeky, it’s something he loves about you.

You’re unable to refrain from teasing him to start, only encasing your lips around the tip before pulling off of him and pouting. Looking up at him like a sultry little harlot; the pout displayed on your face is to tell him that you miss it. You miss his cock as if you aren’t the one who pulled away. And you do it over… and over… and over… making out with his swollen cockhead each time.

With every painful neglectful pull from him, you return, taking more of his length into your mouth. He’s big. The biggest cock you’ve ever had, not that the number of those is particularly substantial. You’ve never been able to take the entirety of Ran inside of your mouth. And he’s never made you feel bad for it. You suck his cock like you were the person who invented it, so full of love and fervorous desire.

Your eyes flutter shut as you take him, getting lost in your own little perfect world that no one but you and he occupy. The sound of you sucking his veiny manhood fills the room with an obscene suctioning. With each suck you enact, tiny lustrous moans escape you. Ran makes a noise not too dissimilar from a gasp when he sees a lewd spit string attach his leaky tip to your puffy lips. He allows himself to groan in appreciation when you drool around him, your saliva drooping and connecting with the floor beneath you.

He looks down at you with a heavenly stare when you eventually open your eyes again, only doing so because you wanted to see how he’d react to you willingly taking his throbbing erection deeper into your welcoming mouth, tumescent lips protruding around him.

“Baby, heh, your diamonds are swinging while you suck my daddy cock.” he laughs lightly. You pull away completely while looking up at him, a wide smile overtaking your face. You had felt their movement but didn’t think Ran would have commented on it. It’s only fair they give him as much of a show as you are, given the small fortune he spent on them. The two of you share a laugh before you return to him.

You house him perfectly in your mouth, sucking him in completely. And he’s got such a messy cock, now. What, with you licking and laving all over him the way you are. The sticky sound of blowjob lips making a sodden state of his drippy, aching length is deafening. You begin to kitten lick at his weeping slit, looking up at him with lust-filled lidded eyes.

The corner of your mouth leaks, garnering his attention. A sinful mixture of your spit and his pre glinting in the sunlight flooding the room. It’s enough to earn another moan from him, making you want to work harder. You suck his cock at an ever so slightly increased pace while moaning around him, the noise gratifying him into throwing his head back.

Your mouth opens wide for him enough to look down and see your tongue, using it to lick the underside of his tip. Drool spills from your lips and onto the ground again in the process, holding your mouth open a bout too long. Lazy, loving eyes close once again as you continue, truly beginning to lose yourself in the moment.

Your head turns so that you can run your cute, desperate tongue along the left side of his cock to the base. Slowly… slowly… slowly… and then it returns back to the tip at the same painstaking pace.

“Such a little tease, bambina… Good girl,” he praises, smirking at the way your thighs squeeze at the compliment. You receive him past your lips once again, moaning around him. “Good girl, good fucking girl. You look so pretty like this, baby.”

You begin to suck, mewling with each and every bob of your head. Your diamond earrings move in tandem, an item so respectable and grandiose now laced with such salacious connotations for him. Whenever you move your head and they follow suit, he’ll remember that you’re his good little cocksucker.

And you are good.

He wouldn’t have hung onto you otherwise. He wouldn’t be buying you diamonds and defending you to his roommates if you weren’t a perfect cock whore. Despite only being able to take a little more than half of him, you’re still so damn good. You never fail to make him cum, never fail to make him feel good.

Your cheeks hollow around his tip, keeping there for a moment more than necessary as you bat your eyelashes at him. Like your mouth isn’t stuffed open wide with his heavy, cherry tip. And then you pull away with a dramatic pop. Ran can’t help but moan at the sound. You come back to him with your jaw hanging low and tongue pressed into the underside of his tip yet again. A copious amount of drool pours from you, enough to make a dripping sound when it connects with the floor tiling. He grunts at each sound you make. Every drop of salvia and string of spit that you create because you’re losing yourself to worship him. His cock, his pleasure, just him. You lick the tip tenderly, puckering your lips around the head to physically kiss it.

You love it.

You love his cock and everything it can do for you.

He still doesn’t pressure you to take anymore of him that you can handle into your mouth, somehow moaning more. Enjoying it more and more with each guzzle and sucking sound you produce and every romantic gaze you offer him.

Ran’s hand reaches down to cradle your head. His fingers run through your hair as you consume him, you’re almost too distracted to notice his hand is on you. The angle of your head alternates a few times to better satisfy him. Your spit slicken cavern is perfect for him. Every suck is composing a boisterous amount of noise. And Ran can’t help but moan loudly, loud enough to make pride bloom in your beating heart. And he’s moaning because he has done this to you. His cock has turned you into a slobbering, slippery mess. He almost can’t stop himself from moaning, carrying on when he sees you quicken the tempo once again. You angle your head just enough that he can see your cheek bulge with his delicate desire.

His free hand reaches down to hold himself from the base. Your mouth immediately opens to form a large ‘O’ shape. He guides his cock around your lips as if he’s applying a lipstick the shade of precum to them. More drool waterfalls out from your swelled lips while his large veiny hand guides himself from tracing around your top lip to smearing across your tongue again and again.

You murmur a mewl in anticipation. Entirely desperate to be stuffed with his cock and thank him in the way he desires for his oh so generous gift. He pushes his cock straight into your mouth and pulls it out just as suddenly, leaving you almost begging desperately for more. He repeats it, leering as you begin to lean forward to chase his cock for another taste rather than be teased a second more. You sink halfway onto him, but he slips his cock out again and urges you to follow.

“Daddy…” you moan, so whiny and needy for him as you follow after all. His broad palm holds your head in a very guiding manner, helping you find your way back to him. He wants his cock to return to its rightful place in your mouth. Your cheeks hollow again, sucking rapidly and pulling away to make the loudest squelching suctioning sounds you can, the pair of you can’t help but moan at the eroticism of it all.

You don’t pull away anymore, sucking and sucking as best you can. He sees how hard you’re working, how badly you want him to cum. But you’re being removed from him carefully.

Ran knew before you did that you weren’t breathing properly; you gasp as if you’re lungs are physically clawing to drag oxygen back to them. The loss of Ran’s cock is a crushing loss, you know he doesn’t care for whining, but you can’t help yourself. But you cease when you’re returned to him, thanking him by taking a little more of his length than you had previously.

Ran moans in sympathetic appreciation, hand lingering to brush your face, hold your chin, feel your throat.

His cock slides out of your mouth and rests on your cheek. He holds you assertively by your chin and leads you back to where he needs you; and you’re looking up at him as though Ran Haitani is everything. He holds you carefully, helping you along in what you’re more than capable of doing yourself. But you don’t mind. Why would you mind extra attention from daddy when he’s being so sweet? More slickness is formed inside of your drenched cavity, making his light thrusts sound even more scandalous.

“So wet, baby. Sounds like I’m fucking your little pussy.”

You moan for him and his naughty love language, head lolling from the feeling of contentment. Neither of you can help the raucous desperation you’re emitting into the afternoon air. His hips thrust a slight more urgently, fucking himself gently into your mouth. He moans passionately as he cums inside of your mouth. His cock visibly pulsing and twitching as he deposits his cum onto your tongue.

Your own volume lowers and slows, as does your performance. And for a moment, you still. Looking up at your daddy with a shimmering stare. His cock still pulsating in your mouth, his sack emptying all it has to offer to you. He holds your chin in his hand as though it were made of glass.

“Keep going, bella.” he commands.

Your head bobs and your earrings shake, allowing your lovers cum to dribble out of your mouth as you follow orders. A low, breathy ‘Ohhhh’ falls from him when he bears witness to it. His fingers travel from your chin to the side of your face, and then lets go completely.

Your mouth widens, allowing him to see all of his cum settled on your tongue. He’s sucked into you again, moving your head along him fast enough for him to force his cum to pour out of you. He watches on in amazement as you kiss the sides of his sensitive tip, coating it in cum. Two thick strings of cum ooze and connect to him, too heavy to remain and falling to the ground.

Spit and sperm bubble at the corner of your mouth as you lick and slobber all over him. You kiss down the left side of his cock, taking your time to show love to his cock with gentle affection. You smother the base in soft pecks, tickling him only enough to warrant a heavier breath and his abdomen to clench. He watches as you opt to carefully move to his cullions, lapping and gargling them into your mouth, all while holding eye contact with Ran.

“Doing so good, bambina.”

A strained moan exists you as you lick, cum dripping from your chin and attaching to his sack and keeps the two of you linked as you alternate between giving your attention to his cock and balls.

A long, heavy string of cum dangles from his cock. You gather it on your tongue from the bottom and bring it back to his length, massaging it over his cock. He holds the base again as well as your chin, wanting to be sucked a little more.

But if you’re a tease, daddy is worse.

He removes his length from you at a slight angle, echoing a bawdy pop as it leaves you.  Ran smears his messy cock around your open mouth again, cum permeating your tongue and spilling from your mouth yet again. You keep your eyes closed as you feel him move his cock around your face. Your tongue begins to swirl, your only hope of searching for him with your eyes shut.

Ran pushes past your lips again, giving you the opportunity to suck. But, for once, you’re the one to remove yourself. It comes with a shocked, almost amused, gasp. You’re realising how much cum is cascading from you both. He holds his hand out to cradle your cheek, your head tilting to the left to meet his hold.

More cum gushes out of your mouth once you suckle on his tip. A thick, white creamy string of cum dangles from your chin. You resume making out with his heavy tip and hear your daddy chuckle above you.

You’ve dribbled some cum onto one of his fingers.

You move your attention from his cockhead to his fingers, wanting to get your daddy’s fingers nice and clean. He leers as you take them into your mouth, only his middle and ring fingers. Every inch of your daddy is so perfect, even his fingers between your lips is enough to make you moan.

“Messy girl,” he states. He had noticed another dollop of cum drooping from your chin. He takes his fingers from your mouth and scoops it up, fingering it back into you. “Such a good little sucker. Thaaaaat’s it. Nearly done baby, back to my cock now.”

He steers your face with the pads of his fingers back to his aching tip. You hum around him, making an even bigger mess of the two of you. You suck him as loud as you can knowing how it makes him leak and flutter when you do. You’re winding down, now. Hollowing your cheeks one final time to offer him one last lascivious pop, bobbing your head a handful of times before you calm.

You kiss his tip like it’s so heavenly delicate. A few feeble pecks before coming off entirely. The two of you an unseemly mess, completely covered in spit and cum.

“Thank you, bambina, you did so well for me.” he informs you, reaching into his pockets, eager to attempt to reignite the flame of his cigar.

You help yourself up, dusting off the pillow you’d been using to protect your knees before returning it where it belongs. It upset you to see he was more enraptured by his Cubans than your letter. He, once again, had cast it aside in favour of pursuing his own enjoyment. There’s a difficulty in understanding why he wouldn’t want to read a love letter you poured your soul into. You pick it up, carefully, holding it sweetly between your fingers without making eye contact.

He side eyes you, watching you without seeming to care about what you’re doing. And that is when you decide to leave his side; walking to the balcony to stare out at the view instead. There is a temptation brewing fiercely inside of you.

You want to throw the letter.

You do, but not really. There are tears in your eyes being fought back with a vengeance as you hope to God they won’t spill over. What’s the point of hanging onto it? He doesn’t care about it, not enough to read it. He’s happy enough with an afternoon delight of mind-blowing head. He doesn’t care about love.

Blood frosts in your veins as you feel his presence behind you, looming over you as you know he does with so many of his other victims. He’s paralysing you. You’re unsure how your daddy, who you know to be sweet and gentle, is able to instil you with so much fear without doing anything.

He walks closer to you, his arm brushing yours as he stands by your side. You observe him take a few final drags of his cigar before tossing it over the balcony. There’s a snicker from him when you yelp as he snatches the letter from your hand.

“Did I upset you, sweetheart?” he asks. You gulp shallowly, unable to respond as you watch him take a better look at your letter. “Ah… ‘amore mio’, hm? Did daddy make you sad for not reading your letter?”

You nod, a little dumbstruck. He holds your chin between his forefinger and thumb, tilting your head down to kiss your forehead. His left leg raises to rest on his right thigh while standing, pulling a knife from his garter belt attached to his sock. He slices the rope you tied around the envelope, making sure the flowers didn’t fall to the ground. Instead of discarding them, he tucked the flower stalks behind your ear and admired how your face seemed to blush in the evening sun.

He takes the letter from the envelope and brings it to his face, smelling your floral perfume infused into the paper. Ran unfolds it, but before he reads, his head sags. It’s as if he is disappointed in you.

“I don’t want you to see that fruit grocer again.” his statement coming across more as a subtle command. You mange to prevent yourself from scoffing, knowing it will only pour gasoline onto the flames.

“He’s my friend. He’s best friends with my boss, Ran.” you remind him. And at that, he does scoff. “I’m sorry I overstepped, today. It was just a friendly kiss! But there’s no way I can avoid him.”

“Your papa is a very rich man. As am I. You don’t need some little job when we can give you anything you want.”

“My papa would skin you if he knew we were screwing, remember. I like my job… I’m sorry, Ran. But I promise I’ll… I’ll make sure to keep things more respectable between Hakkai and I.”

Ran’s eyes roll gradually up into his head before returning to normal. He doesn’t offer a response, instead unfolding the letter to read what you have written for him. It’s a slow read, taking his time to read each and every word you’ve written. He smiles a lot as he does, making you fill to the brim with pride.

“Hm… ‘I’d do anything for you’, interesting.” he quotes. You keep quiet, not wanting to be reprimanded because what you had written was a lie. He finishes the letter and folds it back up, tucking it away nicely into the envelope. His hand holds the crown of your head before he bends down to kiss your forehead once more. He keeps eye level with you, not letting your head go as he decides to speak. “I don’t want you to see him, my love. Don’t good girls do anything their daddies ask?”

“I’m… sorry. It’s just, this isn’t something that’s possible.”

He nods, accepting your words. The letter is tucked into the inner breast pocket of his blazer for safe keeping. And then, before you can register, his hand is holding yours.

He’s guiding you out of the room.

“W—”

“You have to go. Clean yourself in the bathroom and then go home.” he instructs. You can’t say a word before he’s shutting you out. Literally. He doesn’t slam the door in your face, but he may as well have.

And now you are crying, running across the hall to lock yourself in the bathroom and shield the sound of your tears by running the taps on full blast. You look at yourself, eyes red raw and stinging from tears. And you can’t help but feel used. You’ve been used like a whore and tossed aside. It doesn’t take long for you to wash your face and tidy up your appearance.

The flower he’d placed behind your ear has fallen into the sink. You wish you never came here. You wish you never gave him that God damn letter or any of your time. In that moment, a temporary flash of red blinds your vision. You douse the flowers with water from the taps on the highest setting until they’re being swallowed by the plug hole, never to be seen again.

It doesn’t make you feel the least bit better.

You lightly dab your face with a towel and then decide to take your leave. When you leave the bathroom, you spy Mitsuya’s basket of oranges outside of Ran’s bedroom door. You huff, picking it up and trudging down the stairs.

“Ahhh, is the mob princess going home?” Rindou laughs at your expense, earning approval in sniggers from Haruchiyo and Takeomi.

“Yes, I’m leaving. Try not to follow me this time.” you bite back. Instantly you duck as Sanzu picks up a plum from your gift basket and throws it like a baseball at your head. A mirror shatters behind you, the reflective glass smashing by your feet.

“Watch your fucking mouth, princess. Just because your papa is in charge don’t go thinking you’re untouchable. We know how to clip people without leaving a trace.” he eerily reminds you.

“I’ve told my papa should anything to happen to me that you be the first person he suspects. He doesn’t like you, y’know?” you inform him. His teeth grit at you as he growls like a beast.

The commotion summoned Ran from his bedroom, who rushes to your side when he sees the broken mirror at your feet.

“Bastardo. Fucking dick. How many times have I told you to leave her alone?” Ran snipes at him. He only has himself to blame, of course the rest of his roommates were going to be crueller to you without him there. “Rindou, walk my baby home.” Ran insists. His request is denied in the form of his sibling flipping him off.

“I can walk home by myself, I walked here by myself.”

“See,” Rin speaks without looking at either of you.

“No, you walked here with Rin keeping an eye on you. So, my bratty bambina and little shit brother, do as you’re fucking told for once in your lives.” the two of you find yourselves ducking again as Rindou decides to hurl a peach at you both. More of the mirror breaks and rains around you. “AH! Dickhead!” Ran yells when he stands back up. He rushes over to his little brother and punches him in the face.

“Fuck sake.” Takeomi grunts.

Rindou punches him right back, both of their chests heaving with rage. Lavender eyes engage in a staring contest that has more at stake than just competitive loss. Ran grabs his brother by the shirt, pulling him up and throwing him to the ground. You shake your head, turning on your heel to leave so that you don’t have to witness anymore of this sheer nonsense.

“Ah, fuck!” you shout, realising you’ve been pelted with fruit on your bicep. Sanzu. You make eye contact with him, menacingly shaking his head at you. Warning you. Forbidding you from leaving the building without permission.

You watch for a few minutes as the Haitani brother’s continue to fight each other. They’ve broken the coffee table due to Rin pushing his big brother so violently he fell into it. Ran took a cheap shot, kicking Rin in the balls, forcing him to collapse to the ground. The two continuing to punch and kick the shit out of each other in the debris.

“Just fucking take her home!” Ran yells, punching his brother’s cheek.

“She’s your bitch, why don’t you?!” Rin responds, returning the same punch to Ran’s opposite cheek.

“Because I asked you, fucking little shit. And she’s not a bitch! Don’t fucking call her that!” he angrily replies. He wraps his hands around Rin’s neck and applies enough pressure to have him kicking and gasping, his whole face becoming as red as a cherry.

“Fine—! S-Stop, I’ll do it—!” Rin manages to choke out.

He lays in the broken remenants of the coffee table for a while as Ran falls backwards to sit against the couch. Both of them fighting for air, chests expanding dramatically with every inhale. After some time, Ran stands to his feet and offers his brother a hand up. They smirk at each other before Takeomi and Sanzu stand beside them. The other brother’s slapping them upside the head to put an end to the dramatics.

Rindou pushes his glasses further up the bridge of his nose and then he looks at you. Both brother’s approach, Ran kisses you on the lips one last time before bidding you farewell. He retreats to his room and leaves you to the devices of his roommates.

“Be a good girl!” he calls to you, shutting his door with a soft click.

Rin smacks your ass and guides you out of the door.

Looking at Rindou Haitani from behind makes you feel unusual. The inverted black and blonde hairstyle that he and his brother share is enough to make you believe you might be looking at the elder sibling, like you’re intoxicated and out of your own head. There’s two of him. An ever so slightly shorter Ran is walking ahead of you. Hands in his pockets and effortless swagger in his steps. Cigarette smoke lightly twists and spirals into the evening air, spinning until it ultimately dies in the breeze. You hear a noise spill from him. A grunt or a ‘hm?’ quiet enough to be a trick of the mind. But you know you heard it when he turns around. Round glasses helping you remember he isn’t your lover, not even close.

He's the younger brother that loathes you.

He grabs the fat of your upper arm flesh, pulling you closer to him. Rindou bends over so that he’s eye level with you. It’s another disparity from the Haitani that you fell for. The Haitani that you love with everything that you have. When Ran bends down to talk to you, to look intently into your eyes, it’s loving. He’s a good daddy, he cares about you, he worships you. He wants to protect and adore you, making you feel small and oh so cute makes you love him even more.

Rin, however, is intimidating. He isn’t scary in the way that Sanzu is, but he still manages to send a chill down your spine. There’s lingering undertone of mania hiding behind his dull, heavy eyes. He always looks so tired, but the smile is what gives him away. Lumbering eyelids can’t hide what a garish smile presents.

Anger. Insanity. Impatience.

“Walk ahead of me or beside me. Not behind.” he instructs. You scoff, picking up the pace as you decide you’d rather drop dead than walk by his side. It prevents you from seeing the way his face sours as his eyes roll at your petulance. “Am I so bad?” he wonders, knowing the answer that is already bulging from each and every braincell you possess.

You ignore him, instead. You’re a smart girl – smarter than anyone gives you any credit for. Why would you say something that could antagonise him when you can keep schtum and get back home without being bothered?

“Rindou, go home.” you tell him.

“Hah?” it isn’t enough to stop him in his tracks, but he certainly slows. He looks down and notices the way your hand is holding the basket full of oranges for your boss. Trembling fists as you take a tighter grip of the handle. “Are ya that scared of me?”

“’m not scared.” you protest.

“Oh?” he snickers. “Then why are you shaking like a fuckin’ leaf, piccola?” the volume of his amusement raises as you stop walking. Your shoulders drop and you can barely stifle the sigh that you want to exhale.

“I’m not scared of you, Rindou. It’s chilly tonight, s’all.” you fib.

Of course you’re scared of him. You know how much he hates you and would prefer you to be tossed over the edge of the docks with cinderblocks bound to your feet. Wouldn’t anyone be scared if they were you? To be loathed by every single member of the most prolific gang in The Amalfi Coast save for one, you wouldn’t wish that on your worst enemy.

“Bullshit. It’s boiling, one of the hottest nights we’ve had so far.” he laughs, as though your lie was so outrageously stupid. You suppose it was. “’m not gonna hurt ya. Your fuckin’ daddy scares the shit out of me. Think he’d rip my insides out of me while I’m still breathin’ and feed them to his dogs.” he smiles, it’s not quite a joke as the possibility is very real. But he knows he won’t hurt you, so that particular fate is not one he’ll ever meet.

He catches up to you, his hand settling in the small of your back as he attempts to push you further along on your journey. Your steps follow his, walking in tandem with him as he escorts you home. The smoke from his cigarette wafts in your face; a scent that has given you a pavlovian response to think of Ran whenever it invades your senses. An inhale that you had intended to be discreet becomes obnoxious as you allow the gorgeous, cancerous scent fill your airways. He hears a familiar sound. The sound he coaxes from many a woman when he has the time and the funds for one of life’s simple pleasures. Though he doesn’t think he’s ever heard it so softly. A meek, wanton moan as you imagine your lover. The things you have done and will do with Ran Haitani. All while he smells of burning tobacco and covers your body in nicotine kisses.

Rin smiles.

You’re quite cute, aren’t you?

He stays at the bottom of the stairs, observing each step you take up to your own house. You don’t want him here anymore. You don’t want him to watch you or to wait around while you let your guard down in the safety of your own home. But he isn’t leaving. He’s staring as you put the front door key inside the keyhole. He doesn’t stop when you lower the handle and open the door.

What is he waiting for?

“Did you need something, Rin?”

“Go inside and lock the door.”

You can’t help but smile. It’s a soft smile, though. Your features filled with warmth from the pink and orange sky and the fading yellow sun. The apples of your cheeks are swelling as you try to stave off your little smile turning into a fully-fledged grin. It’s sweet, really, that Rin is being so protective. You know it isn’t for your benefit, it’s for his brother.

He knows his brother is sweet on you. He knows how crushed he’d be should anything happen to you. So, by default, your safety is a high priority of Rin’s, too. Although… it probably helps that your father would have them all killed if they let anything happen to you.

“Get home safe. Goodnight, Rin.” you speak. His brows furrow, like you spoke a foreign language he’d never have any hope of understanding.

“Huh?” he sounds, the perplexity that he’s experiencing bleeding into his voice. “What did you say?”

“I— goodnight, Rin?”

“Before that.”

“Um… oh! Get home safe?” you wonder, what could be so perplexing about such a simple sentence?

“Ah, no one’s ever said that to me before.” he chuckles. “You really give a shit about me and my safety? Or are ya just sayin’ it?”

“Rin…” you exhale. “I love your brother, a horrendous amount, actually. He loves you… of course I give a shit about you. Contrary to what you might think, I actually like you. All of you Bonten boys, even though you don’t much care for me.”

He drops his cigarette to the ground and extinguishes it with the bottom of his shoe. When he looks up from the squished cigarette, there is a look in his lilac irises that you’ve never seen before. Empathy, maybe. A little bit of sorrow might be in there too, his gaze boring into your own and seemingly unable to break away. It’s intense, neither of you finding any words to say. His eyes fixated onto yours as the uncomfortable silence floods the atmosphere around you.

Rindou is the one to turn away first. His eyes squinting and teeth gritting for a split second before his lazily cool and calm exterior returns to him once more. He tilts his head in the direction of your front door, a silent instruction for you to head on inside.

“Go on.” he speaks, so mildly, the sentence could almost be drowned in a sea of the crickets singing their night-time chorus. “I’ll get home safe… goodnight.” he smirks.

“I’ll be seeing you… g’night, Rin.”

Your heart pounded a million beats per second when you closed the door behind you. You hadn’t expected Mitsuya to be awake. He’s lying on the couch, his back against the armrest with a glass of merlot on the tiled floor beneath. One of his knees is almost at his chest, his sketchbook resting against it as he sketches away calmly. His glasses seated at the end of his nose make him look so wise. You’ve never known anyone so relaxed and at peace when truly in their element.

“Sorry I—” you stop yourself, unable to continue when he looks up at you with such a positive warmth diffusing from him. He isn’t mad, he’s never mad at you. But still, you know you owe your boss an apology. “I’m sorry I didn’t come back to work, and I’m home so late. But… I have your oranges.” you inform him, bringing the basket to him and leaving it beside his glass of wine.

“It’s fine, bella. Grazie.” he thanks you, peeling one of the many oranges you’ve gifted him with. As he places an orange segment into his mouth, he turns his sketchbook and shows it to you.

“Oh, Suya… This is beautiful.” you smile, astounded by the stunning and complex design. He nods, the gesture filled with gratitude and appreciation. “Now I see why you’re in such a good mood! Is this going to be a new dress you fill the boutique with?”

“Nope,” he shakes his head, swallowing the orange piece in his mouth. “The most glamorous woman I’ve ever seen came by the boutique not long after you left. She told me she wants a one-of-a-kind dress for her wedding day, and that money is no object.” he beams, utterly ecstatic over the prospect of what this one client could do for his boutique.

He sits properly on the sofa and allows you to come and sit beside him as the breaks down his vision for the extravagant wedding gown. It’s so nice to see him like this, so truly fulfilled by what makes him happiest in life. You rest your head on his shoulder as he carries on talking, though your focus begins to waver.

Flurries of blonde and black hair invade your memories. It wouldn’t worry you, normally. What could be so bad about thinking heart-fluttering thoughts about Ran Haitani? But that’s just it. You can’t bring black on blonde on black to the forefront of your mind. Instead, the opposite. Blonde on black on blonde. Why? Why? Why can’t you get his lethargic lids out of your mind? His violet vision studying you like a he had seen a mythical creature in the very flesh. His hands gripping into your arm, violent skin so much softer than you would ever have thought. No one ever telling him to get home safe, so filled with anger and pain the very statement bewildered him.

Oh, he wants to be adored.

You’re fucking his brother, though. Aren’t you meant to be in love with his brother? So, then, pray tell, why are you thinking of Rindou as opposed to the one you’re actually screwing?

“She’s coming tomorrow.”

How did you manage to fabricate such a tall tale about a monster like Rin Haitani? He is a monster. But, you suppose, every member of Bonten falls under that illustrious title. Each and every member has blood on their hands. They are all cruel, cold, calculating. But for whatever reason, Ran softened for you. He let you in and allowed himself to love you and to love you in turn.

So stop fucking thinking about his brother.

“She said her fiancé is some hot-shot businessman.”

Overthinking such a simple thought will lead to your undoing, the death of your rationale. For once, just this once, you have seen a man you loathe in a different light. A man who puts the fear of God into you, in a way you never thought you would. He isn’t anything. He isn’t anyone, to you. He is only, and will be nothing more than the brother of Ran Haitani. He is not a man you should be fantasising about. Imagining what your children would look like and how you’d feel in his arms. Whether he’d kiss your body as softly as Ran or comfort you just as sweetly. Would he appreciate your love letters and thoughtful gestures more than Ran had, today?

“I think she’s marrying a mafioso, but that’s just me.” Mitsuya continues, unaware that you haven’t listened to a word he’s said since you sat down. “You hear me?”

“Hm?”

“Why don’t you go to bed? You look like you’ve had a hard day. I want you working extra hard tomorrow since you ran off today.” he informs you light heartedly. You stand up, and then bend down so that you can give each other a kiss on the cheek before you retreat to your bedroom. You knew he’d be spending another few hours lying on the sofa and sketching his design to absolute perfection.

You suppose you should be sick of the sight of Mitsuya. Considering you live with him and work with him, you’re barely out of each other’s way. But, alas, it doesn’t bother you at all. He’s the kindest person you’ve ever known and you’re happy to be sharing so much of your life with him and have him do the same. Of course, your papa would have happily funded a place for you to live alone if that had been what you wanted. But living with Mitsuya makes you feel safe. You can’t imagine coming home to a dark house and no one to keep you company. His mere presence makes you feel that much more secure.

And knowing that there is no chemistry between you makes you feel that much safer. It means that everything he does for your benefit isn’t disguising any ulterior motives. Why would he try and seduce you when you’ve already slept with one another? He just cares about you. It’s really that simple.

And that is why you have no qualms about sleeping in your room naked. Rindou was right, after all. The heat is sweltering. Fuck. Rindou. You’re cursing yourself for letting him penetrate your thoughts again.

It isn’t this deep. It shouldn’t be this deep. It’s not as if you have a crush on him. It’s not like you even like him, really. A slither of a somewhat vulnerable hidden layer in the younger Haitani has you positively reeling.

You can’t deny what’s beginning to occur at the apex of your thighs. The slippery slickness that Ran can summon from nought but a look in your direction. He can make you wriggle and squirm in no time at all. But Ran isn’t here. He’s barely even on your mind.

You can’t touch yourself and think about Rin.

You can’t.

But you are. Thinking about how he’d manhandle you and make your naked body his plaything. His fingers deep in your pussy while his lips latch around one of your breasts, causing you to cream more juicy goodness for him to use to his advantage. All while whispering obscenities to you, specific language that your papa would put a bullet between his eyes for using in reference to his baby girl.

It's intoxicating.

Picturing your fingers weaving between lustrous locks as you attempt to stable yourself and just be with him. Experience him. Have him douse his cock in your slippery offering before pushing deep inside until you feel positively full.

The sex would be so dirty.

So filthy.

And you cum. You cum and you keep on cumming as you cover your mouth with your free hand, knowing you’ll scream out in overflowing ecstasy and chanting a mantra you absolutely shouldn’t be. And that, you know for a fact, because it’s the only thing repeating in your mind like a broken record.

Rin.

Rin.

Oh… Rindou!

“Rin…” you huff, desperate to fondle your own breast as you ride out the last remnants of your high. The fat of your thighs are so silky, completely sodden with your arousal. Your chest swells as your breath does all it can to recover to its natural rhythm. Your bliss surges through your body, aftershocks plaguing you as you continue to lightly tickle your clit.

When you finish playing with yourself, you assume a comfier sleeping position. Eyes feeling as heavy as Rin’s often appear now that you’ve made yourself orgasm, a sure-fire way to propel you into a paradisical slumber. You’re exhausted. Your mind is drained. And yet, your internal monologue can’t help but bully you.

How can you live with yourself? How will you sleep at night? Your poor boyfriend… You basically cheated! And you’re such a bitch. Of all of the people in the world, you touched yourself over his fucking brother.

You just came thinking about Rindou Haitani.

“Fuck,” you mutter.

You wake up late, unsurprisingly. Mitsuya has already left for work, the area he’d been working in last night now completely spotless. He’s so neat and tidy, just a generally wonderful housemate. There’s no trace of him, you wouldn’t have even known he was there if you hadn’t seen him for yourself.

The day is warm, as most are, prompting you to wear another little dress. It’s light and airy. White is your usual colour to wear, knowing it’s the best colour to wear in the searing sun. You leave your hair down and only apply a little bit of mascara. You’re late enough without doing a full face of makeup. Mitsuya is kind and understanding, but you’re sure even he will have his limits. You doubt he’d be pleased to see your face painted to perfection when you were meant to start work two hours ago.

He greets you warmly when you venture inside. The basket of oranges you got for him is placed on the corner of your desk, he and the woman he is chatting with each enjoying one each. Both of them are laughing and smiling, you can only imagine what is so funny.

“Bella, this is Signorina Gianna. The client I’m creating a unique design for.” he smiles, taking her hand in his as a sign of gratitude. She holds her free hand to her chest and returns his smile almost bashfully. She’s beautiful. One of the most beautiful women you’ve ever seen. You wonder if she might be a famous model, perhaps that is how she can afford to treat money like it’s nothing at all.

“I’ve heard wonderful things about your dresses, Mitsuya. I trust you to create something beautiful for me.” she tells him. She’s making a good decision, you think. No one knows how to capture the beauty of a woman through the artistry of clothes better than Mitsuya does. You can feel the love, preparation and adoration he pours into each and every inch of the clothing he makes. “My fiancé wants me to be the happiest I can be so he assured me that money wouldn’t be a problem on any scale.”

“That’s so exciting,” you tell her, taking an orange and sitting at the cash register to continue conversing with the pair in front of you. “tell me about him!” you insist, earning a chuckle from her.

“Tsk. Behave yourself, don’t be so rude.”

“Haha! It’s fine,” she assures him. “He’s so beautiful. Very work oriented, he owns his own business. We’ve been together for five years. I started thinking he’d never propose, but, here I am! He said he’s ready to commit to me properly and… he wants to start a family with me.” she grins from ear to ear. It’s obvious how in love with him she is. The happiness of others rubs off on you so easily. Especially when it comes to romance, you’re such a romantic.

“Ah! So respectable, wanting to make you his wife before having children. I like that.” you tell her. She nods, agreeing.

“It’s very important to both of us that we don’t have children out of wedlock. And I know the babies we have will be gorgeous, like their papa! Would you like to see him?” she asks you, earnestly. You can’t say that you aren’t intrigued, hopping off your stool and standing by her side. She begins raking through her bag as she searches for a photo of him. “This is us a year ago in Venice!” she explains.

“He looks familiar… is he from here?” Mitsuya questions.

Their conversation turns to white noise. He looks familiar. He looks really fucking familiar. You can hear your heartbeat in your ears. You can’t decipher whether you’re boiling or freezing. Your body suddenly perspiring at an alarming rate while an inexplainable chill in the air has you breaking out in goosebumps and shivering as if you’re in the North Pole.

“So beautiful…” you mumble. The look on their faces tells you that you’ve fallen a few conversations behind. The bride-to-be doesn’t know what to say, and Mitsuya isn’t sure how to recover the discussion they were having. Your eyes are dripping wet, sorrowful crystals inhabiting your lash line. “I need to… go.”

“You just got here!” Mitsuya almost yells at you.

“J-Just for a minute… I don’t— I feel sick.” you caution him. An eyeroll that is so quintessentially him is offered to you. But of course, it is always followed by some sincere kindness. A quick nod and tilt of his head in the direction of the door.

You don’t walk, but it’s not quite a run either. Not until you’re outside and out of their line of sight. A hand flies to your stomach as you try and keep your sickness inside. You’re fighting a losing battle, though. Knowing there’s nothing you can do to prevent the rising wave intensely rolling through you. You create a makeshift ponytail with your hair, realising you’re powerless to stop it. It’s humiliating. Vomiting right outside of your place of work. Where so many people recognise you. Know you. A man offering you a napkin and a woman handing you a bottle of water.

“’m fine, really. Grazie.”

You’re far from fine.

What a familiar fucking head of hair her future husband possesses. What an interesting style that you just so happen to recognise. It’s such a coincidence that her fiancé has dyed blonde and black hair. There are only two people you know in Italy with hair that colour. That style. And, fuck. Why has this happened to you? Of all the people in the world. Of all of the boutiques in the world, why did she have to come to this one?

But, more importantly…

Why is Ran Haitani fucking you if he’s marrying someone else?

© b-imbou 2022

please reblog and maybe leave a comment if u enjoyed this!!

[vixentheplanet]

five star hotel

"I think you should come and visit. I someone else who isn't you pulling up in a minute."

shuri x black!reader | 18+

Summary: You've recently completed a press tour and a phenomenal award season for your latest film. To celebrate and unwind, you and your friends fly to Mauritius, an island in East Africa. You realize your relaxation time, but you're missing a thrill that can only come from one person. The only problem is that they need to be here.

inspired by five star hotels. by raye

word count: 7.1k

themes: actress reader, dom/sub undertones, this is very filthy...

warnings: smoking, drinking, possessive!shuri, dom! shuri, dom/sub undertones, dirty talk, car sex, shotgunning, thigh riding, fingering, orgasm denial, begging, established safe words, body licking, rough sex, penetrative sex, spitting, choking, throat fucking, wall sex, oral sex

hi - i’m in the process of re-uploading everything so anyone who wants to read can have easy access to find my works which is going to take some time but this was the easiest to post (it’s me not some random person lmaooo) 😔

Mauritius. A small Indian Ocean island nation famed for its beaches, lagoons, and reefs. It was your holiday destination of choice. You'd just returned from a press tour for your new film, Sounds of the Vanished, and you'd finished the awards season as the most-awarded actress for your performance. The response and success to your performance had been magnificent, but with so much traveling and busy schedules, you were relieved to be on vacation.

The island was your destination for relaxation. Liza, Kali, Jade, and Evangeline were among your closest friends. You'd only been here for three of the fourteen days you'd planned, but you were having a great time going on different excursions during the day, such as hiking, snorkeling, and deep-sea diving. At night, you could be seen mingling with both residents and tourists at any number of vibrant outdoor bars and clubs. You were having a great time until last night when you had a little too much to drink.

As an actress, you were a natural social butterfly. You were the life of the party, captivating everyone who came across you. People are scared of your confidence. That was something you'd built up to prepare for audition rejections, award losses, and unfavorable critiques in this line of work. These qualities made up your character and personality that the public loved and adored, but you may be intense for those who didn't know how to handle it. As a single, young, attractive, and accomplished woman, such vibrant, charismatic energy drew a lot of attention, but most people realized they were too intimated by you. All except her.

You and Shuri, the Queen of Wakanda, had been seeing each other for a few months. The two of you discovered a pleasure in one another that you couldn't find anyplace else, which is why you found yourself phoning her the night before. You and your four friends were lounging on the patio of a bar, taking in the atmosphere and the warm climate. With the breathtaking ocean scenery, string lights twinkled above you as the waves crashed against the shore.

You'd been drinking a lot of flights, trying out various whiskeys and margaritas. The more the alcohol affected your bloodstream, the more lustful you became. Feelings that only she could control. You knew she'd make time for you if you asked, but when you slipped away to a quieter corner of the bar to call, she didn't answer.

Even when she's working, Shuri always answers your calls. It was too late for her to have a council meeting, and if she were out on business or Panther duties, she'd let you know so you knew she wouldn't be available, so her phone not answering meant she was busy fucking someone else. You and Shuri had similar lifestyles, both busy, and neither of you liked being tied down. She slept with whomever she wanted, and you did as well.

Who’s that bitch you’re fucking?

I know you’re fucking her.

You texted, which seemed to tease, but the attitude was evident. You were the top priority over any of those other bitches.

She texted back an hour after.

Bet.

That was the end of the conversation last night. This morning, you awoke, smirking all the way to breakfast with your companions. You didn't care enough to "apologize," you both knew you weren't sincere, and everything you said was true.

You missed her body, and you know she missed yours.

She should be here. Nobody can fire her up as you can, and she's told you that several times.

You and Shuri had choices, and you both occasionally explored options before settling back on each other. Sex is sex, but sex with Shuri is unrivaled. Perhaps it's because she has no problem putting you in your place. Neither your fame nor your demeanor could faze her, maybe because you were a challenge to her. In turn, you weren’t intimidated by her being the Queen of Wakanda or the Black Panther.

The entire morning you went on a sightseeing and boat tour. You pause to take pictures with fans or sign autographs for any who happen to pass by before hurriedly exiting the location. Your security was concerned that word of your and your guests' whereabouts would spread shortly. You return to your room in the middle of the day. Jade retreated to her room to nap while Liza, Kali, and Evangeline went to the spa, but you returned to clean your room in preparation for Shuri's arrival.

It was time to get ready for tonight by the time you finished. You prepared by taking a shower, applying skincare and makeup, and grabbing your outfit from the closet—a Dolce & Gabbana black spandex mini dress with sleeves from the 2003 spring collection. When you reunited, Kali whistled, "Yeah, ma, do a spin for me,” She took out her phone and began recording an Instagram story. To humor her, you do a whole spin shaking your ass a little before turning around and laughing.

You know it's just a matter of time before your fans discover it and go crazy for the dress, but this is the only chance they'll see you wear it. Though things were quiet on Shuri's end, you knew she'd come through. “Save it for the club!” Angie yells as your bodyguard holds the SUV’s door open.

You're dancing in the midst of a club, but you can't recall his name. He had approached you, star-struck, and asked if you wanted to dance; why not? Something he might later brag about to his buddies. You left Liza and Kali at the table, watching everyone's drinks. Jade and Evangeline had long disappeared after hearing a few members of the Golden State Warriors were in the lounge: “When Basketball Wives gets rebooted, trust I’ll be there. Let’s go, Angie!” So there you were, grinding back on a nameless man, his hard-on pressing onto you. You didn't mind because he was handsome enough. It was a nice ego boost and even better knowing he'd be dissatisfied by the night's end.

He couldn't keep up with you even now, dancing timidly, because his energy didn't match yours. Nervous. Consider what would happen if a famous actress told him, "I need you to choke me and pound me until I can't walk tomorrow." In all likelihood, he'd flee, leaving you to obsess about the person in your fantasies. You see Kali strolling through the crowd after leaving the VIP section upstairs as if angels answered your prayers. Her phone is in your hand, and her face is filled with worry. You break away from your dancing partner to focus solely on your best friend, and he backs off. "What's the matter, babe?" You yell over the music as she hands you your phone.

"Your phone hasn't stopped ringing!" She yells in your ear, attempting to come as close as possible to you. "You have something like a hundred notifications. I don’t know if something serious happened,” she exaggerates, handing you your phone.

As you check your phone, you find ten missed calls and two texts from 'DP.' Because calling back while the music vibrated the floorboards was pointless, you read the text first.

Come outside.

Now.

Smirking, you bite your lip and glance at the screen, no longer interested in your dance partner. She arrived. You knew 'bet' wasn't a joke. Shuri was one of the most brilliant minds in existence, with access to the most cutting-edge existing technologies. She was undoubtedly aware of your whereabouts before you enticed her to come hunting for you. You told her to come looking for you, and she did. You can't help but wonder how long she's been hiding on the island, waiting for the right opportunity to surprise you.

When you look up, Kali looks at you suspiciously, questioning, "Who the fuck is DP, and why are they blowing up your phone?" She wonders aloud. You wrinkle your eyebrows at her assertiveness, "None of your concern, one. Two, I'm heading out."

Kali's eyes show she wants to push you farther, but secrets are unusual between you, so she knows your secrecy is for a reason. "You'd better be at brunch. That’s all I know!” She demands, abruptly changing the subject. You grin as you lean down to kiss her cheek.

“I will, baby. Tell Liza I’m leaving; you know she worries.” Liza was the eldest and only married woman with two gorgeous children. She knew how to have a good time and party, but on nights like this, with everyone split up, drinking, and in a foreign country, she was bound to be extra careful despite your protection. Her maternal instincts were likely in overdrive, especially with Jade and Angie. In a way, you're one less person to be concerned about.

You gaze down at your phone once more. Shuri's text message arrived seven minutes ago. "Yes, yes. Leave before I come outside with you and start interrogating."

Knowing she's dead serious, you wrap up the conversation. "Love you, and make sure one of them doesn't wind up taking Tristian Thompson to the hotel," you joke, referring to Jade and Angie’s quest to be WAGS. Kali's eyes widen as you joke.

“Girl! You’re messy—get out of here," she giggles, nudging you along.

Moving stealthily through the crowd toward the exit, you keep your head down. The cool night air hits your exposed skin as you scan the area for your target. There's a black unmarked Rolls Royce with dark tints that are probably illegal. Bingo. Once it’s safe to do so, you cross the street and peer across the back to see a familiar figure pressing up against the passenger door.

You're confident none of the dark and disoriented individuals inside and outside the club are paying attention to the fact that the queen of Wakanda is standing out in the open, waiting for you. As you take her in, your lip catches between your teeth. She is dressed casually in black athletic shorts and a white tee shirt. There was no use in putting effort into an outfit that would wind up on the floor, but she looked impressive in whatever she wore.

She didn't bother turning her head to look at you as if she sensed you. "I found you," she says. Her tone is somber and absent of the usual playfulness. She did not find your antics the night before amusing. "Found me," you say as you stroll up the sidewalk to Shuri. Even though she seems off, being in the Wakandan Queen's presence causes your skin to tingle with anticipation. Your body is all too familiar with her.

When you stand before her, she uncrosses her arms, and you naturally fall into them, staring up at her as her arms wrap around your waist. "I thought I'd have to drag you out of there." You bring your arms around her neck, pulling her in.

“Mm,” you hum at the thought of Shuri being rough with you. “Wouldn’t want you to cause a scene to scare away all my potential late-night guests,” you teased. Instead of responding verbally, Shuri takes one of her hands off your ass and brings it back in a disciplining slap. You almost moan as the offensive force increases your eagerness.

You close your eyes, wincing slightly before letting out a breathy sigh. "Why are you upset? I can be with whoever I want, right.” You mock her, peering up at her through your lashes with false innocence. As if you didn't know, your words would provoke that reaction from her.

Shuri looks down at you. She rubs your ass with the hands she used to punish you for soothing the pain. “You can fuck whoever you want, but you still beg me to come out here.”

The reunion is over as she releases you, pushing off the car. Her authoritative nature consumes the air around you, nearly suffocating. "What's your problem?" you questioned as if you hadn't drunk-texted her, telling her she needed to be here.

Shuri sucks her teeth. "My problem is you," she declares emphatically, not caring how you react. “I didn’t come here to argue with you.” There were two choices: retaliate with an equally slick ass statement, or listen and behave. For now, you’ll behave as you decide to reach to open the door.

Shuri's presence is behind you, grasping the handle before you can, "Don't act brand new," she says. When you get inside the Rolls-Royce, you're surprised Shuri can see out the black windows—admiring the starlight headlining. She stays silent after that, getting into the driver's seat. She continues to drive without even trying to pay attention to you. You were aware that you might be a brat sometimes; all that confidence and energy made for a toxic combination now and then. One way Shuri exerts power is by ignoring you. Sometimes it would work, shifting your headspace to a more submissive one. You're too busy being a good girl, begging and pleading for Shuri's praise and care, to be bothered with talking back. Other times, you make her work for your submission, not letting up until she is inside of you, manipulating your body into any position she desires while fucking you senseless.

You knew exactly what you needed tonight. Shuri parks her car in a beach parking space near the hotel and turns off the engine. Silence fills the air as Shuri reclines her seat, and you wait impatiently. You wonder why she stopped here instead of the main lot.

You get your answer as your eyes follow her movements as she reaches in and pulls out a pre-rolled joint, sparking the lighter. Shuri’s gaze lingers on you as she takes a hit of the cannabis. Exhaling, the smoke fills the air around you. You expect her to open her mouth to speak now, but instead, she returns the joint to her lips. Starting to get agitated with her ignoring you, cross your arms, and face her back against the door. "Did you drag me out of the club to watch you smoke?"

"Didn't you text my phone acting crazy? Stop being impatient."

You raise an eyebrow at her comments as if she didn’t want you as much as you wanted her. “You’re acting like if I told you couldn’t hit this anymore, you wouldn’t lose your mind. It doesn’t matter who you’re laid up with. They aren't me." Many women were willing and waiting for Shuri to give them a chance, but she came here to be with you in less than twenty-four hours.

Shuri sucks her teeth and is not pleased with your delivery as she refuses to accept the truth of your words. “You keep talking to me like you lost your mind,” she asserts, frowning in confusion. “I don’t know who else you’re dealing with that lets you talk to them like that, but not me,” she warns.

"I wouldn't be talking if we were inside," your voice whines. Neediness has taken over. She was right here, but she was still too far away.

Shuri grins. "Would you like me to bring you inside? I might use you how I please for my own satisfaction. Have you just lay there and take it? Is that what you want?”

"You wouldn’t do that."

“I wouldn’t?” Shuri challenges, passing the joint to your outstretched fingers.

“Coming all this way and not playing with me,” You inhale in small puffs, pull the smoke into your lungs, and exhale. “Sounds like more of a punishment for you than me.” Your body was something she couldn't resist. Even when she attempts to avoid touching you in order to drive you insane, she always breaks. You didn’t need to dominate to control her.

You return the blunt to her, and she accepts it. "Come here," she says as she pats the empty space in her lap, and you climb over. She absorbs another blow at the same time. Her hand is on your thigh, gradually moving the fabric of your dress up, exposing the skin of your ass to the cool temperature that the AC is trying to maintain.

As you approach her, the effects of the high are visible in her eyes. Your gaze falls to her lips, and without hesitation, you lift your hands to her face and draw her to you. Shuri's free hand pulls you closer in an instant, pressing you even harder against her lips, finally giving in to what you both desire. Shuri's teeth dragged at your lower lip, causing you to part your lips. Instinct took over as you felt the Wakandan royals' tongue glide between your lips. Heat runs through your body all at once, and the hunger building up with the distance causes you to devour each other, leaving you gasping as she pulls away.

You give her a single breath before lowering your lips again. Shuri took the lead this time, more demanding and rough, brushing her tongue over your lips and drawing it between her teeth in the most sinful way possible, your brain shutting down completely as you makeout.

It's your turn to take a breath away from the kiss, and Shuri tries to distract herself by going down towards your collarbone.

"Uh, uh," you pull Shuri's mouth away from your neck, revealing her face. "I know exactly how you get, and I have a lot of skimpy bikinis to wear." Shuri took great pleasure in seeing all of her marks on you. Everyone who fucked you next would be distracted by thoughts of who gave them to you, unable to enjoy themselves to the fullest. Constantly wondering and fascinated as to who had so much claim over you.

"People can't admire me if they're too focused on what's on my skin." Shuri's eyes narrow, not amused by your comment. To console her, you caress the side of her face, beckoning her to lean closer with a finger. You teasingly bite her lip, returning to meet her icy stare again.

"Don't make that face," you mock, knowing Shuri was irritated by the image of you with other people you were trying to paint in her mind. There was no commitment, but neither of you liked being reminded of previous sexual partners when you were together. You give her lips another light peck, humming with excitement at the satisfaction of riling her up. "You can still hit it like it's yours," you whisper, your angelic eyes drowning in seduction.

Shuri finally gets tired of your arrogance and lifts your chin tightly, forcing you to look up at her. "It is mine.” She almost growls in your ear. Your smirk fades as you let out an audible moan, getting off to the sound of her voice, knowing the severity in her tone assured you a long night ahead.

Shuri makes a pleased sound, and her suppressed groan enhances your desire for her. “I love this little attitude you’re putting on. You want to know why?” She asked, waiting for you to respond.

“Mm, why is that?” You take a deep breath, feeling the tension and temperature in the car rise. You desperately wanted to remove that extra layer of clothing between you two. You were aching for her despite your best efforts to appear unaffected.

Shuri relaxes her hold slightly to bring her thumb to your lower lip, her dark gaze following the way your tongue teasingly peaks out to lick the tip of her finger. "Because I get to fuck it out of you," she continues. “Make you my good girl again." Her words penetrate your core, and you feel walls clench around emptiness, knowing she'll make you complete soon.

"You're insatiable, and no one can tame you as I can. Huh, baby,” You nod, unable to speak because your mouth is busy. "That's exactly what I thought. Now move.” Move? You wrinkle your brows as you begin to rise from Shuri's lap, disappointed, not seeing the point of having you get up from your seat in the first place before a bruising hold on your waist stops you. “Move.” She repeats more forcefully, and you realize what she means. You adjust a little so that one of Shuri's thighs is between your legs, then press down until your clit is firmly against her. You're confident she can sense how wet you are for her, dripping on her skin.

"Get nice and wet for me, but you can't cum," Shuri instructs as you roll your hips. You begin cautiously, attempting to follow Shuri's warning not to cum yet. You won't overwhelm yourself if you proceed slowly.

Time passes. Shuri rotates the rest of the blunt between you two, bringing it to your lips for each inhalation. Your hands are gripping the back of the seat. It's hot, and you can feel sweat clinging to your skin, but you don't mind. You're far too mellow. Dazed and whirling, your hips are in sync with the smoke filling the air illuminated by the stars on the ceiling. Using Shuri's body to get off feels like something out of a dream.

Massaging your clit against Shuri’s thighs, a little gasp leaves your lips when the sensation gets too much. Shuri takes one last, deep drag. A hand comes to the back of your neck, pulling you close to her until your foreheads are touching. Before opening your mouth, you purse your lips, pushing a whimper to the back of your throat. Shuri presses forward, your lips touching as she, little by little, blows the smoke into your mouth. You accept everything, inhaling the marijuana and moving in for a kiss.

Her hand goes from your neck to your folds, inserting her middle finger inside till it brushes against your clit. The slightest touch of her fingertips causes your hips to stutter and your rhythm to come to a halt as your thighs tighten around her wrist. "Shuri," you exhale, rocking gently in her embrace.

Your face flushed at the slick sounds as she played in the results of your sexual desire.

"You're not being fair," you protest. Shuri commanded you not to cum while making it more difficult for you. It was easier when you had a choice over your pleasures, but Shuri used her expert fingers to take you apart while expecting you not to cum. Your stomach tightens as you strain to suppress your climax, letting out a few quiet grunts.

Shuri doesn't care what you think of her games. “I don’t have to be fair. I make the rules, and you have to follow them.” Her dominant tone is coming through, making you even wetter. The low, seductive timbre of her voice might set you off. She increases the pressure on her finger, and you're practically writhing in her lap, desperate for the woman to stop. You could feel the euphoric tension rising and—

"Fuck," you scream, curling in on yourself in relief as Shuri comes to a stop, denying you release verbally and now physically. You mistakenly assume she was finished, not realizing she never removed her hand. You could have thought things were over, but now she's moving again.

“Are you going to come?” She questioned. No words are coming out of your mouth, so you frantically shake your head from side to side. Your body betrays you, starved of orgasm and searching for it. On Shuri's fingers, your hips swivel down. Shuri grins with amusement as she watches you break.

The weed always lets you get out of your thoughts and into your body, which was good because it amplified sex sensations when high. Yet, it also proved a disadvantage as you fought to keep it together. "Are you sure?" With a wicked expression on her face, she pushed.

You felt helpless, wanting to obey Shuri yet lacking the strength to resist your release. "Please, please, please," you beg, attempting to escape her. But you're no match for Shuri, and she doesn't back down, aware that if you genuinely wanted her to stop, you'd use the safe word you established.

Your pleading must have worked because a few seconds later, Shuri pauses, preventing you from having an orgasm yet again. Relieved, tears well up in the corners of your eyes as you realize you can break free. She removes her hands this time, and you can see the sticky substances coating her fingers. “Always so messy,”

Shuri raises her fingers to your mouth, and you accept them to clean yourself off her. You look up at her with sparkling eyes as you conduct such wicked acts. She groans as she feels your lips suction around her, tongue circling each finger, properly licking yourself up. “Good enough for me to taste later,” you nod, still sucking.

A humming sound emanates from her lips as she muses, "I'll think about it if you can listen to me. You'll now return to your room while I park the car." Shuri continues to speak. "I want you naked on the bed. If you understand, nod." You do as directed by gesturing your head like a good girl. Shuri kisses you briefly before releasing you.

Faithful to her sadistic nature, she has added one extra obstacle for you to get to your suite. You shakily exit the car, pausing to remove your heels as you walk through the sand. You reach the patio and cross the hotel gardens, cursing Shuri silently. You try to multitask by removing your dress's sleeves. You cross the bridge into the area of the private spaces a few minutes later, smiling at the Hotel personnel as you rush.

You unlock the suite door and kick your heels to the side of the entryway before proceeding to the room. A touchscreen pad on the wall controls multiple functions in the room. You press the center button, which dimly illuminates the room. You rush into the restroom to wash the sand off your feet. Fucking Shuri. On the short walk, you've probably cursed her ten times.

You run into the kitchen, needing a drink. You opened a bottle of wine the other day but never got around to drinking it. You remove the cork and pour two glasses, one for yourself and one for Shuri. You down the smooth red liquid. You understand that the alcohol would quickly combine with the THC in your system. "Fuck," you mutter as you realize you're losing time. Shuri was almost certainly on her way inside.

You hurriedly slip your dress over your head and slide your soaked panties down your legs, throwing both things on the couch at the end of the bed, leaving the bottle and glass of wine you poured for Her on the bedside table. You climb into bed, your head resting in your hands, your elbow propped up, anticipation beating through your skin.

Shuri emerges from the corridor a few minutes later, placing a bag on the carpet. Her pupils dilated as lust darkened her irises, and her eyes took you in. The number of times she's seen you undressed doesn't matter; she's always stunned, unable to speak. She walks around to the other side of the bed and finds the treat you've left for her. “You want to be nice to me now?” Shuri said as she looked at the wine.

"You expect me to show compassion for you just because you pour me a glass of wine?" Shuri reaches out her tattooed hand to stroke your chin. "I'm not," she laughed, tilting her head to the side. "But it was thoughtful of you."

You gasp sharply at her words. You can't wait for her to take off her clothes. You desired her inside of you after being denied two orgasms. "I never asked you to be," you said sarcastically. H oping she'd hurry up and fulfill her promise to fuck the arrogance out of you.

Shuri laughs again, aware of the game you were playing. “You have such a mouth on you.” She takes a couple of sips from her glass. "Lie on your back," she commands, and you do what she says—looking up at the chandelier while resting flat on your back.

Shuri holds the glass at an angle such that the red wine drips between your breasts and down to your stomach from above. The chill the unexpected sensation leaves on your skin causes your breath to catch. Your body stiffens as you try not to move and disturb the liquid on your body. Shuri gets on the bed face to face with the lower half of your body, still completely clothed, admiring her work. She brings her mouth to your heated skin from beneath your belly button, carefully licking up the mess she made.

She stops between your breasts, placing her lips on one of your nipples, and you moan, feeling her tongue circle around the sensitive bud—the bitter chill of the central air hardens it. Shuri moves on to the next one, repeating the technique and sucking until the sensitive buds are tense.

As she approaches, you whimper and finally come face to face. Shuri places two fingers between your legs, just outside your entrance. She was right where you needed her, but not quite near enough. "You're always so pretty and tight for me."

"Shuri," you whine. She was ignoring your desires. "No, that's all you're getting for now.” You sigh and roll your eyes. Shuri catches the action. “Again, with the attitude. That’s okay. We’re about to correct it right now.”

Shuri spreads your legs apart and bends them at the knee. “I advise that you keep your legs like this.” Though it didn’t seem like a complex request, you knew you would feel it in your abdomen the longer you held it. "Wide open, ready for me," Shuri observed, staring intently at your warm and inviting pussy.

You bite your lip as Shuri sinks inch by inch, and by the time she's entirely inside, you're gasping, your eyes shutting abruptly as your face twists in ecstasy. Shuri emits a noise of dissatisfaction, “No, open your eyes. I want you to watch it. Watch while I take you apart.” Her eyes had a sinister glint to them. She pushed in and out a few times to get you acquainted with the sensation of her.

The delayed start provided a false sense of security. Shuri's speed soon became ferocious fucking into you, and all you could do was lay there and receive it as her hips slapped into you. "Fuck!" you yelled, flinging your head back. Your thigh muscles were aching from retaining the position, but you were determined not to obstruct Shuri's entry to you.

Shuri slows her desperate strokes, stilling inside you, giving you a short reprieve. She goes for the bottle of wine and tilts her head back, taking a long sip. You can see her throat bob as she swallows it. It's quite seductive. "Open," she urges, holding the bottle above you, and you do it without question.

You feel like a goddess being poured wine while naked, high, and blissed out. This is why having sex with anyone else will never be the same as having sex with Shuri. Hair in all directions, body sticky from sweat, and the residue of the wine sipped off your skin. You swallow the wine, letting the smooth liquid ease the scratchiness in your throat. "Open," she says again, and although the bottle is nowhere to be seen, you open your mouth wide, putting your tongue out, waiting. Shuri spits directly into your mouth, and you tighten your grip on the strap. It should be disgusting, yet it's hot, and you fucking love it as her saliva hits you. “Such a whore, you know that? Letting me fuck you, ruin you.”

Her hands are widening your legs. "You love that, don't you?"

“Yes, yes, yes,” When she puts her finger to your clit, she doesn't let up until she makes you scream, clutching the sheets while screaming and moaning. Shuri is captivated by the noises you make and how her name slips off your tongue as she abandons you absolutely and completely undone.

"Yes, please make me cum for you," you plead, all the toying and teasing had left you ravenous, and all you wanted to do was reach orgasm. "Fuck me like that, fuck me so good," you scream, your fingers tightly wrapped around Shuri's neck, forcing her to stare at you.

"You always fuck me so good—feel so good in me," You’re babbling, half out of your mind. Loving when you’re vocal in bed. Your word has Shuri double her efforts, her strokes sinking deeper. You gasp in response to a powerful thrust pressed up on your g-spot. "There- right there—don't stop, don't stop, don't stop- "

“Don’t stop, huh?” She asks. "Will you let me have you like this all the time? Fuck you nonstop. Never let you go. Constantly have you naked and ready in my bed."

"I'd let you fuck me again and over," you say, maintaining eye contact.

“You’d let me, wouldn’t you? I'll keep you in Wakanda just to fuck you. Make you cum again and again." Shuri was slamming relentlessly into you. As the dominant continued to drive into you, you shouted. Being treated this way, like Shuri's own whore, made you feel amazing. She treated you like an irresistible toy.

“You want to cum?”

“Yes, please, baby.”

"Do you believe you deserve it?" Shuri continues, not interested in your point of view. "I'll be nice, baby," she says, her voice raspy and low. “I’ll let you come. I'll let you come all over me, then fuck it right back into you so you can give it to me again." You can hear the headboard hitting the wall, moving in tandem with the intensity of Shuri's push, mixed in with Shuri's dirty obscenities. Your moans, her filthy words, and the snap of hips against you all contribute to your symphony. The most sinful thing ever composed. After being denied orgasms, you were going to come, but you still needed more. You grab Shuri's wrist and pull her over to your neck. "Shit baby," Shuri says, recognizing your request. Breath play always intensified your orgasms, and you knew you were on the verge of cumming. Permission had now been obtained.

As the hand around your neck squeezes, power is exchanged. A release from control, you giving it to Shuri and her receiving it. The dominant and submissive. Daddy Panther and her darling. As your airway tightens, you ease into the touch, becoming calmer, more carefree, and wholly trusting.

You finally achieve your high at that instant for a million reasons: the smoke, wine, and the taste of yourself on her tongue. Your body arches as everything stops, and you cry out Shuri's name like a litany as you come. The intensity of your climax causes your thighs to quiver. Shuri fucks you through it. Grabbing onto the headboard to plunge harder into you, a forceful stroke presses you farther into the mattress. You hear a crack that sounds like the wood of the headboard in Shuri's hands, but she does not stop. She continues to fuck you, never letting up on her pace falter. When your nerves are on edge from being too sensitive, she stops.

Shuri pants above you. You lay there for a second, attempting to regain your composure while looking up at Shuri with tearful eyes. "There she is, my girl," Her hand brushes some of the hairs stuck to your forehead. "It's all right, darling. I know she needs a break,” Shuri says, wiping the tears from your eyes. Your pussy had its own heartbeat, pulsing from the rough treatment. The thrill is intoxicating.

Shuri pulls out and stands up, and you whine about the absence of contact. She's now standing at the foot of the bed. "All fours, come here," she ordered firmly. As much as your body protested moving so soon after such an intense orgasm, you were committed to doing the right thing for Shuri. Follow her instructions. She meant it when she said she'd restore you to your former self as her good girl, your attitude replaced by a desire to please her. "Look at the mess you've made." You stare down at the glistening strap coated with your release. Shuri gathers your hair in one hand, the other holding the strap's base.

You get down on your elbows, ass up, spine beautifully curved. Shuri thrusts in, her hand holding your hair and keeping you in position as she shallowly rocks her hips. You bob your head, working more quickly, saliva gathering at the corners of your mouth. “That’s it, baby, tasting my pretty girl.” Shuri breathes, tone rough.

"Are you going to let me fuck your throat?" You give her permission by humming around the object in your mouth. The hand in your hair stops your movement, and Shuri takes charge. When she thrusts, it feels like she's scratching your throat, and your throat feels full and tight as if it's been expanded. Occasionally she goes deeper, triggering your gag reflex and making your eyes water. “You’re working so hard. I can't wait for you to ruin it again." She starts sliding you along the shaft of the strap with your hair. As the strap tip strikes the back of your throat, you make a choked moan. Shuri knows this isn't the first time you've done this, so she keeps you there for a second before pulling you off. You're gasping, spit is dripping down your chin, and your eyes are burning. The sight truly amazes Shuri.

"You look fucking beautiful right now. Can you do it again for me?" Shuri requests. You nod. The harsh treatment ignited the fire in your stomach. "Then I'll fuck you again," she informs you.

Shuri pushes you, slipping the tip in your throat again and securing you in place. You calmly breathe through your nose, but your throat convulses around the strap, and you choke. "Take a breath," Shuri orders, and you listen, your throat spasming before Shuri lifts you back up. You gaze up at Shuri, tears streaming down your cheeks, your chin messier than before. “So perfect for me,” Shuri gasped, and you moaned at the adoration you found in her expression.

“Are you okay?” She asks, checking in.

“Yes,” your voice is hoarse, fucked out. Waiting for Shuri’s next move.

Shuri is effortlessly lifting you from your position and collecting you in her arms, hands under your legs to support you. You tightly wrap your legs around her. Shuri moves through the room. As your body is pressed against the plaster, you kiss her, and the strap slides back into you, undoing all your hard work cleaning it. Your fingers clasp Shuri's shoulder as your arm loops around her neck, keeping her close to your chest. You interrupt the kiss to groan loudly, and your head collides with the back wall. "You're doing well, baby. Taking everything I give you," she says proudly.

That was something you admired about her. She never takes anything from you and always gives you all you need.

Shuri pins you between the well and her chest; sweaty bodies push together. Your heartbeats are racing. "Damn baby, you fuck me so good," you moan, glancing down to where the strap disappeared and reappeared in you.

You have no choice but to accept it as she continues with the fierce, sharp thrust. Her strength is exhilarating, tearing you apart and never wavering, giving it to you hard and fast. "Yes, like that, exactly like that," you pant, encouraging her to keep going, reminding her that her "good girl" can receive anything she has to offer.

This time, you get to your second climax much more quickly. The harder Shuri fucked you, the louder your moans became, unconcerned about who heard. "When you cum, I want you to scream my name," Shuri demands. She couldn't stop herself. She seized your hips and drilled relentlessly into your pussy. “Say it. I need to hear you say it.” It was fascinating to see her lose control. And when you feel the familiar wave of overpowering euphoria pour over you, you give her exactly what she wants. “Panther!” You scream, your walls squeezing the strap while you cum, but there's no time to recover.

Shuri is flinging you on the covers, and she's crawling back between your legs for the second time tonight. Shuri adores the taste of you. You recall her spending nearly an hour spreading you open and licking leisurely, not to make you come but to satiate her thirst. She couldn't stop herself from making you cum on her tongue to end this round.

Her lips are on your abused clit, sucking hard as her tongue licks at it, demanding more. You're going to give it to her because you can't bear the thought of disappointing her. Shuri gave you what you needed to give her what she wanted: your submission, your cum, your moans, your pleasure; it was all hers. She wrecked you for anyone else. There will never be someone who knew your body as well as she did and demonstrated it every time you were together.

You try to get free from her grip by twisting your body to the side, but your efforts are unsuccessful. Shuri pulls your body straight, pinning you on the bed by your waist, uninterested in your overstimulation. She was on a mission to watch you cry and beg for mercy.

Tears cloud your vision as the experience begins to overtake you. It's fantastic—too much of a good thing. "Oh my goodness, baby!" you exclaim. You were taken aback as you felt the release exit your body. Your palm reaches for your mouth to muffle the ugly sobs rattling your body. Your orgasm's shakes and spasms were tremendous, moving your entire body with intensity. The whole thing was extremely sensitive. You can't help but grin with the contented numbness of coming down from a high.

You press your sweating brow against your forearm, your unfocused gaze seeking Shuri. She's to your right, observing you cautiously, knowing she's put you through a lot. And you wouldn't want it any other way, of course. You smile at her in satisfaction. “Perfect, Oscar winner smile.” Shuri is delighted. "My star, you did an amazing job for me, baby."

“Always, Daddy Panther.”

[fun-k-board]

Spider-Man is... Peter Parker?! PT. 1

Note(s) : This is inspired by a post from @kzele and the reblog by @thecatchat

You can read it here!

The itching ache corrupting his mind wouldn't rest, the unrelenting screams and the claws that nag at his every waking moment. Peter Parker, a teenage boy, Spider-Man, a superhero, he doesn't feel like one, not right now.

The Symbiote infecting his mind was not his own fault, yes, he had been slightly careless, and yes, he could've prevented it, but foresight is something he didn't and couldn't have had.

Today? Our superhero isn't awake, Peter is asleep, a victim of his own mind. The Symbiote, Venom, takes over, and while Peter is not conscious, Venom fights the crime that he would otherwise be unable to stop. There's one problem with this shortcut, it's killing him, infecting him slowly, his attitude is worse, his empathy is gone, his love for his family and friends is no longer.

Unknown to Peter, the symbiote doesn't just take over when he's asleep.

And while he's being punched, kicked and slammed into the ground, Peter can't feel any of it, the Symbiote keeps his consciousness at bay. The ones fighting him don't know his true identity, they may not know Peter Parker, but they know Spider-Man.

The Sinister Six can tell something is wrong, they know the infamous web slingers moves, his sarcastic quips, the way he voices his thoughts out loud, but this day he's dead silent.

Even when he burnt his tongue and it hurt to speak he still did, this is... Different, unnerving. Like when you visit a place after years, the differences are so small it's practically the same, but it's not quite right enough for it to be familiar.

Only one thought is shared between the six villains.

This isn't Spider-Man.

The thought for many is just that, something they can brush over and never think of again, but for Sandman and Doc Ock, one a man who has been beaten by Spider-Man more than he can count, and the other a super genius, it's hard to get rid of the feeling that something's wrong.

The Symbiote infecting Spider-Man has enough strength to defeat the Sinister six as if it's no real feat, and it's getting close to that.

Doctor Octavius' plan is running thin, his current battle with Spider-Man growing desperate. Vulture is flying above, occasionally scratching the Spider to try and aid his team mate. Rhino has his horn stuck in a building, which he can't pull out because Sandman and Electro are next to him, one stuck in a puddle and beginning to regret even coming along, the other is almost completely out of electricity, laying down limp on the ground a few meters away.

But, one member came more prepared than he could ever realise. What the Symbiote didn't anticipate was Shockers new upgrade, it looks the same as his regular gauntlets, works similarly too. It uses sound waves to stun and even incapacitate a human, the noise is at a frequency that it could even deafen some one if used in long periods of time.

He'd wanted to try out on the spider for weeks, but somehow the infamous hero was always busy with another criminal, now, he has his chance.

While Spider-Man was busy with Doctor Octavius', throwing kick and punch to the metal arms, which he surprisingly didn't have any issue with, Montana snuck behind him, and sticking out his fist, he yelled for Octavius to move and he fired.

Doc Ock's moved out of the way, and he turned for a moment, only for a moment so he could check on one of his damaged tentacles, but his head snaps right back to the Spider when he hears a blood curdling scream.

They had all expected Spider-Man to hold his hands on his ears, to yell and try to run away, but the noise he's letting out doesn't sound like anything the bug had made before, it doesn't even sound human. Two voices at once drown one another out, the symbiotes control is becoming fragile, Peter's mind is slowly awakening.

Electro gets off the ground with a groan, hunched over, he stares in confusion, his eyes trying to narrow, to focus on the scene that's playing out before him. Finally, Sandman manages to escape the predicament, he hoists up Electro and walks a bit closer to... Whatever is happening, allowing Rhino to yank his horn out, partially collapsing the building.

Even more confusing was for Spider-Man to begin convulsing, his screams get louder, his body contorts as he falls to the ground, twitching erratically. The entire Sinister Six watches in a mix of horror and confusion as his suit begins to peel off his body, whatever the creature is, it begins to worm around, desperately trying to cling to its host.

Shocker immediately puts both of his hands together, blasting the creature with full force in an attempt to separate it from Spider-Man, in his head, this is because it's clear... Whatever this thing was, gave Spider-Man his new found strength, and none of the Sinister Six want to go through a beat down that embarrassing again.

Spider-Man's body immediately stops struggling when the creature finally separates, he lays limp, but the strange goop continues to scream and try to worm away, it sounds ungodly, something that'd give a man nightmares, it desperately attempts to crawl away from the unbearable pain it's in.

"Will one of you morons help me?!" He yells frantically, the black goop writhes, unable to move away from Shockers blast as it's mind is flung into full panic. After a few beats of silence from the Sinister Six, the symbiote still screaming, one of Doc Ock's tentacles slam down a trash can over the creature, keeping it trapped in place.

In their panic and stunned confusion, they failed to notice what happened to Spider-Man, that the strange creature wasn't just a top of his regular suit, it was on his skin, when their eyes finally focus on the web Slinger, they realise what just happened.

There on the floor lies a young, skinny boy, he's completely limp on the ground, his skin is pale and covered in dark bruises, he's only dressed in a tank top and shorts.

Vulture lands on the ground with a thud, staring in shock at the sight before him. But soon enough, both his and Electros eyes widen in recognition, that mole, those eyes, that hair, that's Peter Parker.

"That boy is skinny, what are they feeding you city kids..." Shocker mutters under his breath, so quiet that he didn't even realise he spoke, his eyes stare blankly, yet in slight confusion, at the limp body.

"What the hell is that?!" Rhino exclaims, staring, dumbfounded, by whatever that creature is and whoever this boy is.

Sandman could feel Electro squirming slightly, and so let him go, the electrical charged man seems to be in a trance, his eyes wide and breathing shallow.

"Peter...?" Electro takes a few steps closer to his limp body, he can see the pain he's in, his breathing is shallow, his lips slowly turning blue from the cold.

"That's the alien brought back by Sargent Jameson's ship." Doc Ock observes, his eyes narrowing as he stares coldly at the garbage can, it shakes every few moments, the symbiote is desperate to escape it's new cage.

"Wait, wait, so, Spider-Man is a kid? And he got infected by some random alien goop?" Rhino blurts out, in shock at the situation presented to him.

"No, you insolent fool." Doc Ock shoots a glare towards Rhino, adjusting his goggles for a few seconds. "This is just some boy the... Parasite, must've taken hold onto." He explains away, waving off Rhino and his, rather astute, observation.

"Yeah, that makes sense, doc! This kid is Peter Parker, he's an intern at Conners laboratory, I used to be the electrician there." Electro suddenly pipes in, he almost goes to pick Peter up, but jerks back upon realising he doesn't have his gloves on. "He's way too wimpy, there's no way he's Spider-Man." He firmly states.

"He's also Norman Osborn's son's best friend..." Vultures eyes narrow slightly as he mutters cold words, he crosses his arms and makes no move to help Peter.

Sandman feels sick to his stomach, he's frozen in shock, hardly able to process the situation. He never wanted to hurt a kid, or anybody, sure he robbed banks, but he never set out to try and hurt civilians. This isn't what he signed up for.

"We need to get this kid to safety, now." His voice comes out strained, losing it's casual and rough nature, he uses his sand to pick up Peter, his eyes snap around, observing the city to find a safe place.

"Hm..." Almost hesitant, Doc Ock furrows his brows for a few moments before speaking up. "We have a safe house for emergencies, follow." Doc Ock waves a hand to motion Sandman forward, but for a moment, and only a moment, his eyes linger on Peter before he begins to walk off, his tentacles propelling him forward.

[laurenairay]

we’re lost and found - A. Beauvillier

Summary: “It’s always going to be you, Bells.”

One visit to Vancouver changes everything for the friendship of Anthony Beauvillier and Isabella Thornton.

A/N: This is my entry for @wyattjohnston​‘s birthday bingo!! I really hope you enjoy this Demi – I cycled through various combinations and players before I was happy with the following for Beau: trade angst, friends to lovers, playlists as a love language, “it’s always going to be you”, the morning after the night before. I haven’t written a full fic for Beau before so this was a fun challenge! And yes, I fudged the last game in the Canucks schedule for creative licensing. Happy birthday my dear 💛

Title from Wings, by Birdy. Here is the final playlist mentioned in the story. 

Words: 14k

Warnings: angst, miscommunication, sappy sweetness, idiots in love.

Thank you @cellythefloshie​ for being the most amazing beta and cheerleader while I was writing this!

*

“Cabin crew, prepare for landing. Ladies and gentlemen, we will shortly be arriving in Vancouver. Please ensure all hand luggage is stowed, tray tables are folded away, and your seatbelts are fastened.”

Even as her stomach swooped with the slow descent of the airplane, Isabella couldn’t stop the smile that spread across her face. She’d been up since the crack of dawn. Her first flight from JFK airport leaving at 7am, and with the layover stop in Seattle lasting one and a half hours, she was more than ready to be done with travelling for the day. It wasn’t that Isabella disliked flying though – she just wanted to be on solid ground. This trip was to be a mixture of business and pleasure; her work wanted her to go to an industry conference to support a couple of the Sales guys giving speeches, her marketing role allowing her that first-hand experience; the conference was scheduled from Tuesday 11th April to Thursday 13th April, but she had decided to fly in on the Saturday before, also taking a vacation day either side of the conference, to extend her time in Vancouver.

Why? Because one of her closest friends had moved from New York to Vancouver only a couple of months ago, and she missed him more than words could describe. It seemed like he felt the same way, because the moment Isabella had mentioned the conference and that she was able to take a couple of vacation days around it, he’d immediately offered for her to stay at his apartment, giving them the time to catch-up, to spend the time together like they hadn’t been able to in so long.

There was no universe in which she would ever say no to Anthony Beauvillier.

So here she was, Saturday 8th April, ready to spend some time with one of the most important people in her life. Soon enough the plane landed and made its way to the gate, allowing everyone to exit. Thankfully Isabella’s suitcase arrived quickly and her journey through security was smooth, so in no time at all she was walking out into the arrivals hall, eyes scanning the crowd of people.

And then she spotted him.

The moment Anthony noticed her too, smile spreading wide across his face, it felt like a breath of fresh air. Finally. Isabella wasted no time in rushing over to him, dropping her suitcase to throw her arms over his shoulders, Anthony hugging her just as tightly too. It was all she could do to bury her face in his neck, breathing in that familiar cologne as well as the scent that was just Anthony himself while he buried his face in her long dark hair.

She’d missed him. She’d missed him so much. Talking to him over the phone just wasn’t good enough. It wasn’t even close to replacing what it felt like to see and hold him in person. After what felt like eternity and yet somehow not long enough, she let him go, dropping her arms from around his neck, taking a single step backwards to look him up and down.

“Damn, you look good Beau! West-Coast Canadian air clearly does wonders for you,” she grinned, hamming up the compliments to make him squirm just as she liked.

A familiar light flush dusted his cheeks as he shook his head fondly. “Says the New York fashionista gracing us with her presence.”

Her tanned cheeks flushed too at his compliment, but she just laughed and batted at his chest before picking up her suitcase from where it had fallen on the floor. Flattery would always work with her and he knew it.

“I missed you,” Anthony said suddenly, smiling softly as he took the suitcase without saying a word.

Such a sweetheart.

“I missed you too. 10 weeks without you and my life is poorer for it,” Isabella said with a dramatic sigh.

Anthony blushed heavily this time, ducking his gaze, making her smile as she laughed. So cute.

“I know I’m mainly here for work, really, but I’m looking forward to spending the rest of my time with you,” she said, threading her arm through his.

“Me too. You’re going to have a great time, I promise.”

She knew she would, even just by being in his company, but she didn’t need to say that out loud.

With her arm still linked with his, Anthony guided her back to where he’d parked his car, lifting her suitcase into the trunk like the gentleman he was.

“Thank you for the new playlist for my flight, by the way,” Isabella said, wiggling her phone to show what she meant as she got into the front passenger seat.

“No problem, Bells, you know that. It’s our thing, right? It’s not like I could let you travel out here for the first time without a new list to listen to,” Anthony shrugged, starting the engine.

From the small smile on his lips, she knew he was far from nonchalant. He was right too – making playlists for each other really was their thing. When she’d started hanging out with him and Mat and some of the other Isles boys, Isabella and Anthony had bonded over their shared love of music, sharing recommendations on Spotify almost immediately. Making playlists started with creating background music for parties held at their various apartments, but, for whatever reason, over time it grew into the two of them making playlists just for each other. She’d lost count of the number of playlists she’d made him for his long travels on the road, and the amount of study playlists he’d made for her were in the dozes over all her college years. Then there were birthdays, holidays, vacations abroad as a group, and just general ‘you seem down, let me cheer you up’ playlists.

Making playlists for each other was something that Isabella and Anthony had made into something that was just theirs, and she treasured it.

“I loved the Twenty One Pilots songs you chose,” she said, smiling.

“Catchy, right?” Anthony mused, “I wasn’t sure about those Bastille songs though.”

The vibes of these playlists of important, they both knew that. But like always, he’d nailed it.

“They were perfect. The whole list was great, I promise,” Isabella insisted.

This time, his pleased smile shone through. She loved that he loved putting together all these songs just for her – the same way that she loved doing it for him. Was it wrong to cherish something with him that was hers and hers alone?

The drive to Anthony’s apartment felt like it flew by as they continued to talk about the music they’d both been listening to lately, and soon enough she was walking through the front door of his apartment.

“We’ve got a couple of hours before I need to leave for the arena and then you’ll still have a few hours before you should leave to head down too, so plenty of time for you to settle into the guest room and unpack your stuff. I’ve got a fabric steamer if you need them for your conference clothes?” Anthony explained, locking the front door behind them.

The thought he put into everything was astounding.

“I probably will need to steam out some creases at some point,” she mused, thinking of the three blazers she’d packed, “But that can wait until Monday night. How about you give me a tour?”

There was no way she wanted to think about anything to do with work until she absolutely had to. The next couple of days were all about relaxing. Sure, Anthony would be flying out for two games in California tomorrow, but that just meant she wanted to make the most of the time she had with him.

As he showed her around the two-bed apartment, Isabella could admit that it was pretty sparse. At least compared to the apartment he had in New York – but he’d only been here just over two months, so she knew she couldn’t expect him to have fully settled in yet. She could only hope that he was going to give himself the chance to settle in properly, especially since the Canucks season was technically over.

Sure, they still had four games left to play, including tonight’s, but mathematically they were already out of the playoffs. Isabella could only imagine how that felt for him. It was something that they hadn’t really discussed, if she was being honest. The trade was a sensitive subject in their friendship group, and she hadn’t known how to ask how Anthony felt about it when the trade had first been announced. But she worried about him, being out here all by himself. How could she not?

At least there were elements of his personality in the apartment, a framed poster here, photos of his family there, silly polaroids of their friendship group in New York on the fridge with magnets. It was enough to settle the worst of her concerns, and by the time she’d dumped her bags in the spare bedroom he’d declared was hers for the week, she noticed that the edge of tension had melted away from him too.

“I know it’s not much yet but…”

“But nothing, Beau,” Isabella interrupted, smiling as she leant against the doorframe, “You’ve only been here a short while – you’ll make this a home in no time.”

“You think?” he asked, his hesitance obvious.

Well that wouldn’t do.

“I know. Now come on, feed me before you need to leave for the game,” she said firmly.

“That’s the Bells I know,” he snickered.

Isabella just laughed at the accuracy – he really did know her - before sticking out her tongue at him and making him laugh. There was the smile she loved.

Isabella took a quick shower while Anthony cooked them lunch, an easy healthy chicken stir fry, and all too soon it was time for him to leave her alone. While she felt a tiny sense of trepidation about being in a new city all by herself, she knew that she only had a little time to kill before she was going to see him again anyway, so she pushed it down as much as she could.

“You’ve got the phone numbers of people at the arena to call if there’s an emergency, right?” Anthony asked, pulling on his suit jacket.

“I can 99% guarantee you that there will be no emergencies in the two hours before I leave here too. But yes I have them – so go, Beau!” Isabella giggled.

He held up his hands in surrender but smiled down at her anyway, kissing her on the cheek before he walked out the door. Isabella sighed softly, fingers rising to brush over the same skin his lips had brushed, smiling fondly. That was a particular tradition she’d missed as well, the casual affection he’d always shown her. She didn’t know if it was a Québécois thing, or just an Anthony thing, but she’d missed it all the same. It was sweet, just like everything he did.

As she settled in on the sofa, she sent out a few text messages to let various people know she’d arrived safely; some of her friends at work, Mat, her mom. She’d fully intended on ignoring the replies, knowing nothing urgent would be coming through, but when she saw 5 notifications from Mat, she opened up their text thread out of curiosity.

~

From: Mat Bells! You made it! Beau has been buzzing all morning. Give him a kiss from me. After he’s kicked some Flames ass obvi.

~

This guy. Isabella rolled her eyes fondly, smiling at the energy she could read even in his words, before biting her bottom lip. Anthony had been buzzing? He hadn’t seemed that way to her – sure, he was happy to see her, all smiles and long hugs, but buzzing? Hm.

~

From: Isabella I’ll pass along your kiss, weirdo. He seemed pretty chill to me?

~

From: Mat That’s because he got all of his crazy energy out by texting me. You know he wants your trip to be amazing. You are going to his game tonight, right?

~

From: Isabella If you say so Barzy. I wouldn’t miss his game for the world.

~

Mat didn’t text back again, so Isabella just chalked down the strange exchange to him missing his friend too. Still…no. Barzy was being Barzy, and that’s all there was to it. The two hours after Anthony left flew by, Isabella just getting herself lost in a good book, and it wasn’t long before she was walking towards her seat in the arena. Along with leaving a new Canucks jersey (with his name on the back, of course) for her in the hall closet, Anthony had left her ticket at will call, which she picked up easily after the uber she took dropped her right out front. Just as she’d requested when he had asked, she was in the bottom tier but at the back – she didn’t want anything ostentatious – and with an overpriced beer in hand, she took her seat.

Right from the start, the game was a nail biter. She cheered at the top of her lungs as Pettersson and McWard scored for the Canucks with all the supporters around her. Only for her to be left wincing when Lindholm and Kadri scored for the Flames in the third period, on the edge of her seat as the game finished out at 2-2. She could see the frustration in the team’s faces, let alone in their body language, and the moment that the shootout started her heart was pounding in her chest.

As soon as Kuzmenko scored the winning goal, Isabella leapt to her feet yelling in celebration with the crowd around her, the biggest smile on her face as the team celebrated on the ice. What a way to end of the game.

There was no rush she’d ever felt like watching a hockey game live in person - and now she was lucky enough to go congratulate her friend face to face rather than over text. Arriving early ahead of her conference really had been such a good idea. Anthony had texted her the instructions for how to get down to the tunnel to wait for him, so she followed those after the stands had emptied out a bit, not wanting to fight through the crowd. At the very least it meant she didn’t have to wait as long in the tunnel by herself, and soon enough Anthony was walking out to meet her, shy smile on his face.

Shy? No, that wouldn’t do.

“Beau! Congratulations!” she said cheerfully, loudly enough to draw a bit of attention to them and to get that familiar blush she loved to see rising on his cheeks.

“You enjoyed it then?” he mused.

There was enough hesitance in his voice to let her know he needed her reassurance, and she wasted no time in hugging him tightly, smiling as he immediately hugged her back.

“I had the best time. Talk about a nail biter!” she laughed, pulling back just far enough to look up at his face, “You know I love watching you play.”

The rosiness of his cheeks let her know that her honesty had been the right thing to say.

“I’m just glad you’re here,” Anthony murmured, squeezing her slightly before letting his arms drop.

“Ooh, wait, there’s something I need to give you,” she said quickly, clutching at his hands.

Anthony froze slightly, but made the most interesting gasping noise as she leaned up on her tiptoes and pressed a big wet smacking kiss on his cheek.

“W-What?”

Isabella just grinned, letting go of him. “That is from Barzy.”

Anthony’s smile seemed to falter slightly before he huffed out a laugh. “Of course. That sounds like him. I’ll have to text him to say thanks.”

Isabella snickered. At least their mutual friend couldn’t say she didn’t pass along his message. That’s what friends were for!

“What’s the plan now then?” she asked, tilting her head slightly.

“It’s up to you, really. A few of the guys are going out for drinks if you wanted to go too? It’s not going to be a crazy one because we are flying out to LA tomorrow, but it might be fun for you to meet some of the team? But if you’re tired from travelling then we can absolutely just head back to my place,” he explained.

The hopeful look in his eyes made her smile. He really wanted her to meet his new team, didn’t he? He wanted her to like them – it was important to him, she could tell. So there was only one answer she could give.

“Let’s go out for a couple of drinks then! Maybe if jetlag finally hits we could leave early?” she suggested.

She had been awake since 3.30am after all, having left for the airport at 4am. Relaxing for a couple of hours ahead of the adrenaline of the game had helped keep her going, but she knew it would hit her at some point. But meeting his new team was important to Anthony, so she wanted to do what she could, even if it wasn’t her at 100%.

“Perfect. You just let me know whenever and we can head out,” he said firmly.

Such a sweetheart.

In the end, she lasted around two hours before she felt her social battery dipping into dangerously low levels, starting to space out of conversation even though she’d only had two vodka sodas, and in no time at all Anthony was guiding her through the front door of his apartment all over again. His teammates had been so sweet – at least the ones that she’d met tonight – and seeing the smile that all their interactions put on Anthony’s face filled her heart. Even after 10 weeks, it was clear that he’d found a good space for himself here, just as he deserved to and just as she’d hoped. Brock, Petey, Quinn, Thatcher, Travis and Ethan, along with their partners (those that had them) were all so friendly and welcoming, and she’d enjoyed telling stories about her time in New York with Anthony, as well as hearing how well he was settling into the team in Vancouver.

It had been everything she’d wanted for the first day of her visit – what more could she have asked for?

“Okay I’ve got cold bottles of water in the fridge or I picked up that brand of peppermint tea that you like,” Anthony said, breaking her out of her thoughts.

Peppermint tea?

“You don’t drink peppermint tea, Beau,” she frowned, “you bought it especially for me?”

“Well, yeah, Bells. Of course I did,” he shrugged, although a light blush hit his cheeks.

This guy.

“Peppermint tea would be great,” she said softly, still a little stunned that he went through the trouble for her.

What a perfect way to wind down. The two of them sat on the sofa while she drank her tea and he drank a bottle of water, talking about all the things Anthony wanted to buy for the apartment when he came back next season (a couple of throw rugs, art for the hallway walls, a new smoothie maker, and so on). It felt like they were back in New York, like no time had passed and nothing had changed, which only made her heart pang a little more when it was eventually time to go to bed. She was flagging, hard, and he had an early start tomorrow, as much as she didn’t want this little bubble to end.

“Good night, Bells,” Anthony murmured, leaning against the doorway to the spare bedroom.

“Good night, Beau,” she murmured back, not wanting to break the moment as those blue eyes caught with her own dark brown ones.

He smiled softly, leaning forward to press a kiss to the top of her head before he walked down the hallway to his own room, leaving her feeling like she was floating on air.

What a first day indeed.

*

“Wakey wakey eggs and bakey!”

Isabella groaned at the loud sound of her best friend’s voice, eyes blearily looking over to where he was standing in the open doorway.

“What?” she groaned, “What are you doing?”

“First of all, I tried knocking, like, three separate times. Second, I made eggs and bacon and toast, duh. Breakfast, remember? Before I fly out with the team?” he teased.

Oh fuck, yeah of course. How could she forget? Anthony took one look at the expression on her face and burst out laughing.

“There’s also coffee. Clearly you need some,” he snickered.

Rude. Accurate, but rude. Isabella flipped him the bird, making him laugh harder, but at least he left her alone to deal with her bedhead. Her natural curls were a pain in the mornings, especially without taking a shower to deal with them properly, so she just threw them up on top of her head into a loose bun while she headed to the bathroom. She’d already decided she would be straightening her hair for her conference, for ease through those long days, but for now this would have to do. It wasn’t like Anthony hadn’t seen her looking worse.

After quickly washing and dressing into leggings and an oversized sweater, Isabella headed out into the kitchen, wordlessly accepting the coffee mug that Anthony pressed into her hands with a smile. Mmm perfect.

“Thanks for this, Beau. You’re amazing,” she murmured happily.

Interestingly, the back of Anthony’s neck flushed red, his back turned to her as he plated up their food.

“It’s just coffee, Bells,” he said, shrugging.

No it wasn’t and he knew that.

“Okay, scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, and wholemeal toast, bon appétit.”

“Merci beaucoup.”

Anthony grinned at her attempt at French, Isabella just grinning back.

“So what are you going to do today and tomorrow? Your conference doesn’t start until Tuesday, right?” he asked, scooping up some eggs with his toast.

“I’m not going to do much, I won’t lie,” she mused, earning a grin, “I might take a walk around your neighbourhood today, maybe find a coffee shop or something? And then just a chilled night in, probably with take-out. Tomorrow though…hm, I probably need to do my nails before the conference so I’ll either pop out to buy some nail polish or I’ll book an appointment in a salon? If the weather is nice I might get lunch out, have a walk in downtown, see the sights? And I do want to get a bit of preparation work done before everything starts on Tuesday, ahead of watching your game against the Kings.”

She’d had enough time on her flights to plan at least a few things at least anyway. What? Isabella liked to be prepared.

“You don’t have to watch my game if you’re busy with work,” Anthony frowned.

What?

“Beau, in what world would I not watch one of your games?” she asked, confused.

“I just…I mean, I…”

He trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck, only confusing her further.

“It’s hard enough that I don’t get to see you anymore. Watching your games is the closest thing I have,” she said, frowning.

The look that passed across his face could only be described as devastation. “Fuck, Bells, you can’t just say things like that,” he said softly.

“Why not? I mean it, Beau. You’re one of my best friends. I love watching you play, you know that,” she said simply.

Anthony smiled slightly at her, but it looked strained. “I know you are. And I appreciate that more than you know.”

“But?” she prompted.

He hesitated for a moment, before letting out a shaky laugh and shaking his head. “But it’s too early and neither of us have had enough caffeine,” he deflected.

Isabella narrowed her eyes but took a big gulp of her coffee in response, making him laugh and roll his eyes fondly.

“Never change Isabella Thornton,” he mused.

“Oh ouch, full name. Definitely too early for that,” she said, grimacing dramatically.

Anthony just laughed louder.

In the end, the rest of her Sunday was spent exactly as she described to him. After he left, giving her a long lingering hug in the hallway after leaving her a spare key, she did in fact wander around his neighbourhood, taking in the cutesy local park and little shops, spending a couple of hours in a coffee shop with the book she’d started reading the previous afternoon. It was a good way to spend a time, nice and chilled exactly how she liked her downtime.

Before he’d left too, Anthony had given her the rundown of his favourite local restaurants, including an amazing Thai place that she knew she had to try – so that night, before taking a shower to sort out her wayward hair, she placed a takeaway order. Isabella hadn’t been able to decide between the panang beef curry with jasmine rice and the tofu pad see ew, so in the end she’d ordered both. Whatever she didn’t eat, she would eat tomorrow after her first day at the conference finished, ahead of watching Anthony play against the Kings. It was just logical, right?

By the time she had her curls plopped up in an old t-shirt, ahead of straightening them when they were fully dry in the morning, the food had arrived. The smell of both dishes was heavenly – she’d have to thank Anthony for his recommendation for sure.

Her phone buzzed twice. Beau 💛. Speak of the devil.

~

From: Anthony Heading out to team dinner soon. Hope you didn’t get lost wandering around today?

~

Isabella barked out a laugh at the very idea of her just wandering around lost and not telling him, but found herself smiling anyway. He was concerned about her – so sweet, as always.

~

From: Isabella No I didn’t get lost. Thanks for checking though. Just ordered myself some take-out actually!

~

She included a selfie of her holding up one of the take-out boxes, pulling a ridiculous duck face pout to hopefully make him laugh. It was far from the first time the two of them had exchanged silly photos, and she doubted it would be the last. While she waited for a response, she forked some noodles into her mouth, clicking on the TV to find some entertainment for the rest of her evening.

Three buzzes.

~

From: Anthony The Thai place! Great choice! Kinda wish I was eating that with you rather than the steakhouse we’re heading too lol. You look very cute and comfy.

~

She found her cheeks heating up with a light blush at his last words, quickly shaking her head to rid herself of any ridiculous thought. He didn’t mean it like that. He just didn’t.

~

From: Isabella Thank you for recommending the place, it’s SO good. Nah you enjoy the steakhouse Beau!

~

She didn’t expect to hear back from him, not with the game starting so soon, but the simple ‘xxx’ he sent her made her whole body warm. This guy, seriously.

Isabella knew how lucky she was to have a friend like him in her life. Unapologetically kind and sweet, always had her back, never failed to make sure that she was happy. Anthony was one of a kind, a true gentleman, and the fact that their chance friendship had turned into such an important part of her life was something she cherished.

She’d still been in college when they’d met, a mutual friend dragging her along to a party, and ever since that first night they’d just clicked. It didn’t make sense, not really, their worlds having very little crossover. But Isabella knew back then that all of that didn’t matter, proven by the fact that they stayed closed when she graduated college, stopping going to 99% of the parties, and Anthony stayed up in the show, proving himself night after night.

And now she was here – in his home in Vancouver while he was away, curled up on his sofa with his blanket draped around her. If anyone had told her five years ago that this is where she would be, she probably would’ve laughed – in what dreams was she going to build such a strong friendship with a handsome young NHL player? But this was her reality, it did happen, and there was no way she was letting him drift away, especially now that he’d moved so far away.

Isabella sent Anthony a text before she turned herself in for an early night, knowing she’d need to be up early to give herself the time to straighten her hair properly in the morning. It took less than 30 seconds to get a response back from him, making her laugh softly at his eagerness as she slipped into the guest bed.

~

From: Anthony Sweet dreams! 💛

~

She tried not to think too hard about how the little heart gave her butterflies.

*

Monday passed quicker than Isabella thought it would. Just as she’d told him – just as she’d planned – she treated herself to a manicure in a salon downtown as well as treated herself to a lunch out near the Quayside Marina, going for a walk along the waterfront before she did some prep work for her conference. It was only last minute checks of the presentations she would be part of, but she knew it would allow her to sleep easier without the what-if anxiety playing on her mind.

Along with eating the remaining Thai take-out and taking the time to straighten her thick curls ahead of the conference the next day, Isabella also watched Anthony play against the Kings on his stupidly big TV. The 3-0 loss made her ache inside, especially with how dejected the team looked even through the screen, and the moment that he texted her to ask if he could call, she didn’t hesitate to call him first.

His patented Sad Beau face made her ache even more, and it was all she could do to try to comfort him. She hated when he looked as sad as he did after this loss, the wear and tear of the season bearing down on him, but she wasn’t going to miss the chance to at least attempt to make him feel better. If she could help just a little bit, ease that sadness, then she would – seeing him look all soft with his fluffy hair and glasses in his hotel room was motivation enough.

The sweet smile she managed to drag out of him by the time they said goodnight was everything she could’ve hoped for.

All too soon, Tuesday 11th rolled around, and Isabella walked into the hotel the conference was being held in with her work laptop and an air of confidence she only partially-felt. Usually she had no problem talking to people – give her a bar or a party or a restaurant or even a casual barbecue and she could chat away for hours. But when it mattered? When the opinions of the people she talked to about their impression of her would be a deciding factor in whether her company would get their business in the coming year? It was terrifying.

But she was dressed the part, wearing her grey bodycon dress and black blazer like armour, her hair pin straight and her make-up perfect, and that gave her the boost to be able to fake her she was feeling.

At least her two Sales colleagues couldn’t tell how nervous she was when the three of them set up the company booth. By the time they were finished setting up, people were still walking in, so Isabella volunteered to grab them all a coffee. She hadn’t had time for her usual caffeine intake before she’d left for the conference – something she was definitely going to make sure she did ahead of Day Two – so this was more of an excuse to be able to wake herself up properly, to make sure she stayed at her best on this opening day.

Just as she returned to the booth and passed out the requested coffee, her phone buzzed. Beau 💛

~

From: Anthony Good luck today! Kick some ass!

~

Oh how sweet. Even though he undoubtedly had a late night after playing the Kings yesterday and travelled to Anaheim today at some point too, he was thinking about her?

~

From: Isabella I will do my best to kick ass, metaphorically. Good luck to you too! And kick some actual ass yourself! I’ll be watching the game tonight at yours again.

~

From: Anthony 💛 💛 💛

~

Again, his response came through incredibly quickly, making her think he was just waiting for her to text him. Why would he do that? Surely he had better things to do than wait around for her to text him?

And why did he only text three hearts?

Isabella found herself completely lost in thoughts, overthinking everything he could mean and everything he likely didn’t mean, and everything in between. It wasn’t like her to overanalyse every interaction with Anthony, but maybe it was the Vancouver air, or the fact that they’d been separated for the longest time in years. She honestly didn’t know where it was coming from, and she hated how uncertain it all made her feel. What was he playing at? Why was he acting like this, now? Was she just reading too much into it?

“Uh, Isabella?”

A deep voice to her left broke her out of her spiral, and she jumped slightly at the hand awkwardly waving in front of her face.

“Sorry Jerry, the caffeine hasn’t kicked in yet,” she said, forcing a laugh, “What’s up?”

He just laughed, taking her lie without question. “We need to go set up for the presentation. We’re up first today, remember?”

“Of course, let me grab my laptop,” she nodded.

It was simple enough to set-up and get the presentation going, if she was being honest, just clicking through the presentation slides while he was talking on stage (and their other colleague was manning the booth), and it allowed her to drift along on auto-pilot, only needing to focus on his talk and the screen in front of her. Thankfully she only needed to give input on one question he was asked in the Q&A portion, and she found herself smiling as everything finished to a hearty applause, accepting Jerry’s subtle high-five with a laugh.

The rest of the conference went smoothly, Isabella mainly able to listen to the other speeches given and take notes to feed back to the executive board while her Sales colleagues focused on schmoozing other attendees. It was one of the perks of being a marketing team member at a conference – outside of the presentations, the pressure really was off her. And at least her two colleagues this time were decent guys, rather than some of the assholes she’d been paired with before, so she didn’t hesitate to accept joining them at the after-drinks. With the conference finishing at 3pm, she allowed herself a few hours to relax and drink a couple of cocktails, but as soon as it hit 6pm she was in an uber on the way back to Anthony’s apartment. There was no way she was going to miss his game, not even if she’d had one of the best cranberry martinis she’d ever drank.

By the time the game started at 7pm, Isabella was dressed in her pyjamas was a bowl of pasta in her lap, willing the team to have a better result than the night before. For Anthony’s sake, if nothing else. And what a game it was. The moment that the buzzer sounded, ending the game with a 3-2 win over the Ducks, Isabella’s face hurt from smiling, and she wasted no time in reaching for her phone and thumbing open her message thread with Anthony.

~

From: Isabella YESSSSSS! Go Canucks! I’m so proud of you Beau. What a great game. 3-2 baby! I know you’re probably going out for drinks or dinner or whatever with the team. But call me when you get back to your hotel?

~

Isabella lost track of time while she waited for him to respond, distracting herself with washing up all the things she’d used to make dinner as well as doing her night-time facecream routine, so by the time her phone buzzed with a video call request, she was sitting on her bed up against the pillows. The moment that his smiling face appeared on her screen, something settled in her chest that she didn’t realise she was holding onto. He already looked so much happier than when they spoke the night before, and she found herself sinking against the headboard with a smile of her own.

“Hello Beau,” Isabella said fondly, “That’s the smile I like to see.”

“Hey Bells. You like my smile?”

She blushed at his teasing words, but powered through. “You know I do. Happy Beau is much better than Sad Beau.”

“I wasn’t Sad Beau.”

“You were sad enough,” she mused.

He just huffed out a laugh, shaking his head.

“No-one else calls me out like you do.”

Her breath hitched in his throat at his words, making her hesitate slightly before answering. “Is that a good thing?”

“It’s a very good thing. You help remind me to keep the bad balanced with good, that there’s still positive things in my life even when everything feels like shit. I appreciate that more than you know.”

She resolutely ignored the butterflies flaring in her stomach, the smile spreading across her face again conveying more than enough.

“Well that’s what friends do, right?”

“Yeah. Friends. Exactly.”

The way his smile flickered at that must’ve been a technical glitch in the call, surely.

They continued to talk for nearly another hour, losing themselves in easy conversation as they always did, until Isabella noticed Anthony started yawning, even as subtle as he was attempting to be in hiding it behind his hand.

“Hey, Beau, I’ll let you get some sleep yeah?” she murmured.

“What? No, I’m fine, really.”

Isabella laughed softly, shaking her head with a fond smile. “You played an intense game today and you have an early flight tomorrow. Get your beauty rest.”

He smiled through the screen, eyes half-lidded with tiredness.

“Okay, if you insist. I’ll see you after your conference finishes, yeah?”

“Absolutely. I can’t wait,” she grinned.

“Me too. Goodnight, Bells.”

“Goodnight Beau.”

When the call ended, Isabella took a moment to indulge in the sweetness of his smile before shaking herself out of her silly thoughts. Was it so wrong to enjoy the way he looked at her sometimes? Surely not. Besides, he wouldn’t smile at her if he didn’t mean it – he’d said as such, how much he appreciated her. She could always work with that. With a b out of inspiration, Isabella grabbed her personal laptop and opened up spotify, ready to make Anthony a playlist for his flight home in the morning. He deserved to have his good mood continue, to arrive back with nothing but positivity in his veins. This was something she’d done dozens of times before, and it didn’t take her long to put together a list of songs nearly two hours long that would hopefully put a smile on his face. She put a few final touches to the playlist with Shake it off by Taylor Swift, Shut Up and Dance by WALK THE MOON, and Come on Eileen by Dexy’s Midnight Runners, finding herself smiling at the good mood she had curated. Done. Perfect.

~

From: Isabella Sleep well Beau. Looking forward to seeing you again tomorrow! I made you a playlist for the flight – positive vibes only.

~

From: Anthony You’re the best. See you tomorrow. 💛

*

Day Two of the conference – Wednesday 12th – found her dressed in a pretty lilac shift dress with a grey blazer of the top, another immaculate set of armour allowing her to get stuck into the networking that was happening in between all of the speeches and presentations. Isabella mostly let the Sales guys do their thing, but she was able to contribute a bit more with people who approached their company booth, supporting the discussions by using examples of the campaigns she’d personally ran. At least, she felt confident enough with the approving nods and the handshakes exchanged with potential clients. Anthony’s flight had landed mid-morning, right on schedule, and he'd very sweetly messaged her the moment he arrived home. So instead of attending drinks again when the conference finished, she headed straight back to Anthony’s apartment. She didn’t feel bad skipping out of the social time, mainly because it mattered more for the Sales guys to be there, but also because she desperately wanted to spend her limited time with Anthony while she still could.

“Bells!”

Anthony’s happy shout combined with the way he rushed over to her and lifted her up in his arms, spinning her around seconds after she shut the front door behind her let her know she’d made the right decision.

“Anyone would think you were happy to see me, Beau,” she giggled, clutching at him tightly.

Anthony just grinned, shrugging apologetically as he lowered her back down to the floor, although his cheeks had a light flush to them.

“Of course I’m happy to see you. It felt weird knowing you were finally in Vancouver but I wasn’t actually there myself,” he said simply.

Yeah she could understand that.

“I missed you too,” she murmured, shrugging off her blazer and hanging it up on the coatrack.

Isabella raised an eyebrow as Anthony’s ran over her formal lilac dress, taking her in like he’d never seen her before.

“I suppose it’s not the clothes you’re used to, hm?” she mused.

Strangely, her words made him jump slightly, as if she broke him out of his thoughts.

“What?”

“The dress?” she teased, “I know I don’t usually wear them this formal, but come on it’s not that bad.”

“No, uh, not bad at all. Definitely not used to you wearing them,” he said quickly, nodding as he blushed a little heavier, “You look great though.”

“Thanks Beau,” she grinned.

What a sweetheart. Even if he was still blushing.

“Thanks for the playlist by the way. It really helped me get through the flight this morning,” Anthony said, heading towards the kitchen.

Isabella followed him with a smile, that smile widening as he wordlessly handed her a cold bottle of water from the fridge, nudging him with her shoulder in thanks.

“It was the least I could do. Besides, the good vibes in the songs gave me good vibes too,” she shrugged.

“Great vibes – especially that last song,” he grinned.

“Come on Eileen is a classic for a reason,” she said seriously, making him laugh just like she knew it would.

They talked about day two of her conference as they chose what take-out to order for dinner – they settled on Vietnamese, including summer rolls, beef brisket phở, and tiger prawn curry noodles, settling on the sofa while they waited for it to arrive. It was only then that the conversation took a heavier turn, as Anthony suddenly looked exhausted down to his bones, and not just physically.

“What’s going through your head? What’s wrong?” Isabella asked softly, resting her hand on his forearm briefly to capture his attention.

“I feel like I failed this year,” Anthony said quietly.

What?

“I’m sorry, what?” Isabella asked, confused.

“The team didn’t make the playoffs. The season is over and I just…I failed, right? The Canucks haven’t made the playoffs for the 8th year in a row and the Islanders did make it, so clearly they were right to trade me, and I just…I don’t know what to do.”

His rant flew from his mouth faster than she had ever heard him speak before, and the sadness entrenching every word made her heart ache in the worst way. He really felt like this? Like he was a failure? How long had he been hiding his self-deprecating emotions like this?

“You did not fail. You are not a failure. You’re just one guy, Beau,” she said firmly. “You didn’t ask for this trade, not in the slightest, and you’ve made a good solid start for yourself here. The Canucks needed you and you gave them a boost of course, but it is so not on you. Do you think Petey and Brock and Quinn and literally everyone else feel like you let them down?”

“No,” he admitted softly.

“Then don’t let yourself feel like that. Yeah, it sucks. Not making the playoffs is everything you didn’t want to happen. But you guys are way too talented for it not to build up for next season. You are far too talented, Anthony Beauvillier, and it will work out,” she finished.

“Ouch, full name,” he said with a weak smile.

She just batted his shoulder lightly with a hand, pursing her lips. “I mean it, okay? You worked hard and this year it just didn’t work out. I have full faith that things will click for you next year.”

Anthony hesitated for a second, before letting out a shaky sigh.

“I might just have to let your faith be the only faith for a little while,” he said softly.

Her frown softened to a gentle smile, and she squeezed the shoulder that she batted only moments before.

“If that’s what you need, then that’s fine. My faith in you isn’t going anywhere. You have one final game to play, right? So you go out there and you show them what you’ve got. Show yourself. I’ll be watching with imaginary pompoms,” she mused.

“Can I get you real pompoms? Maybe a cheerleader skirt too?” he grinned.

That was the Anthony she knew.

“You are pushing your luck. Keep that in your dreams,” she snickered.

Interestingly, he blushed furiously at her words, making her laugh. What a reaction.

It didn’t take much longer for their Vietnamese take-out to arrive and they settled as easily as ever next to each other on the sofa, sharing all the dishes in a way that felt so effortless, a reminder of the life they led back in New York. Anthony switched on an old favourite action movie while they were eating, just something to play in the background while they ate and talked and enjoyed each other’s company, and Isabella didn’t hesitate to seamlessly transition that into cuddling on the sofa when the take-out boxes were empty.

She did ignore the butterflies in her stomach flaring up as his thumb brushed her bare shoulder though. No, tonight was about Anthony, giving him comfort, not about her ridiculous notions.

*

The last day of her conference, Day Three – Thursday 13th – started with Anthony joining her for coffee and breakfast. She knew he had no real reason to get up early with her, but she appreciated the sweet gesture nonetheless. As she caught an uber over to the hotel conference hall, her mind was reeling from the sleepy smiles he sent her way, even more so with the soft parting kiss he pressed to her cheek as she said goodbye to him.

Why now? Why were all the feelings she’d fought so hard to bury surfacing out now?

But Isabella didn’t have time to get lost in her thoughts. She wouldn’t let herself – couldn’t let herself. No, all she allowed herself to do was to brush her shaky hands down her navy blue sheath dress and matching navy blazer as she walked into the hotel before she threw up her confident walls, greeting her colleagues with a practiced smile.

She already knew that the last day of the conference would be mostly final presentations and speeches, so she let them consume her, taking notes as diligently as she was able to be able to report back to her bosses. It was a blessing in disguise really, letting her work monopolise her mind, and she found herself swept up in the last rounds of networking with a genuine smile on her face. In all honesty, the conference had been a success – her Sales colleagues had garnered all of the business and attention they were meant to, and her contributions had been smooth and fruitful. That didn’t mean she stayed around for the final night of drinks though.

No, when the conference talks finished at 3pm, she caught an uber straight back to Anthony’s apartment, ready to go to the final Canucks game tonight. The game started at 7pm so she had more than enough time to shower, eat a little something while she dried her natural curls, and change into comfy jeans and Anthony’s jersey. He was already at the arena by the time she’d arrived back at his after packing up the company stand, so she caught an uber down to the game again.

Same as last time, he had left her a ticket at will call. She had asked for a ticket in the stands rather than in the box. It was just the atmosphere she wanted to surrounded by, the sight of him upclose being a welcome bonus. By the time she was heading down to her seat with an overpriced beer in her hand, it was time for warmups, and as she watched the Canucks skate out to excited cheers, she found her seat right by the glass.

Of course, of course he got her glass-side seats. Isabella rolled her eyes softly but found herself smiling anyway. Anthony always was so thoughtful, and this evening was no different. She caught his eyes as he skated past her and she waved enthusiastically at him, ignoring the looks from people around her as he happily waved back. Let them be jealous. They didn’t share the friendship the two of them had so she didn’t care what people thought of the interaction. She did snicker quietly as she noticed the obvious teasing his teammates gave him when he skated back over to them though. Bless his heart and his rosy cheeks too.

The game was a nail biter, even more so than the other three games she’d watched this week had been. For each Canucks goal she jumped up out of her seat cheering, high fiving everyone around her. For every Coyotes goal, she winced and listened to the boos around her. By the time the third period ended 4-4 ahead of going into OT, she felt like she was in an emotional wringer. This was the last Canucks game of the season; she knew how much it meant to Anthony let alone the rest of the team, so when the buzzer sounded it was all she could do to keep breathing, hoping for a miracle.

And praise Garland for his game winning goal only 1.19 into the OT, hats flying onto the ice to mark his hattrick as the arena erupted in cheers and shouts for the 5-4 win. Isabella’s hands were stinging from clapping by the time the stands started to empty, her cheeks aching from smiling, but she didn’t hesitate to go down to the tunnel like she had that first night, waiting for Anthony to be finished.

As soon as he walked out to meet her, she squealed, making him laugh as he swooped her up in a hug.

“Ahhh Beau! I’m so happy for you! Such an amazing assist!” she said, when he’d put her back down.

Anthony’s assist on Garland’s power play goal was the Canucks second goal of the game, the first of Garland’s three, and she was so proud of him for ending his season so well.

“Felt good to contribute in our last game, I will admit,” Anthony said a little sheepishly.

“See, I told you! Positive thinking!” Isabella grinned.

He just laughed, making her smile soften. He really was so cute, especially when his happiness was shining through like this.

“Most of the team are heading out for drinks again tonight, especially with the win in this last game of the season. Do you want to go?” Anthony asked her, smiling softly.

Like she’d want to be anywhere else.

“Absolutely,” she nodded, “I even brought a leather jacket with me to wear over this tank top instead of the jersey.”

“Oh perfect, I’ll put your jersey in my car before we catch ubers to the bar then, so you don’t have to carry it around,” he said, smiling.

So thoughtful.

The booths reserved in the bar were full of players, various family members, wives and girlfriends, so Isabella didn’t feel like the odd one out for the celebration of the end of their season. That didn’t mean she moved far away from Anthony though. All night they were side-by-side, and Anthony seemed oblivious to the looks he was getting from his teammates where he had his arm round her waist, where he was murmuring in her ear. With the way the drinks were flowing, Isabella didn’t care enough to say anything, to correct their assumptions, letting herself slip to a level that she usually wouldn’t with alcohol. She wasn’t drunkdrunkdrunk, not by any means, but she was far merrier than she usually allowed herself to get, clinging to Anthony in a way that she always had refused herself.

The music blared, shots were pounded back, laughter filled their group, and all throughout Anthony held her tight, his hands possessive in a way they had never been before. He held her closer than he ever had as they swayed on the dancefloor, bodies pressed close, the energy between them crackling. She let herself pretend that it was the heat of the bar not his intense eyes that had her flushed and giddy. The vodka mixers allowed her to pretend anyway, and by the time that Anthony mentioned making a move back home, much later than she thought they would, her mind was a happy haze of BeauBeauBeau. Nothing else mattered, not the knowing winks or the giggles, not the way her feet were aching, not the way she leant heavily on him as they made their way out of the bar to the waiting uber.

They were still leaning against each other as they stumbled out of the taxi at his apartment building, Isabella giggling as she waved goodbye to their driver. Anthony helped hold her up in the elevator, using the wall to prop himself up, Isabella just snuggling into his broad chest with a happy drunken sigh. This was perfect. Did he always smell this good? Was he always this warm?

They slowly made their way to his front door, Anthony holding her close in a way that wasn’t helping them walk in a straight line. Isabella just stayed clutching at him, letting him guide her, humming quietly to herself as she smiled up at him, especially as he smiled widely down at her, cheeks flushed and eyes glazed. He struggled to open the front door, making her giggle like she had done getting out of the taxi, and he pressed his finger to her lips in an exaggerated shush, only making her laugh harder. This was bliss, this was heated happiness, this was…her stumbling into the doorframe and falling forward. She slammed into his chest, Anthony somehow holding her upright as he closed the door behind her, his body swaying as he tried to hold them both up.

Isabella clutched as his arms – so strong, so firm – looking up at him with wide eyes, only then noticing how close they were standing. How close he was holding her. Had they ever been this close before? Had his eyes always been that blue?

She jerked out of her thoughts as he pressed his lips to hers.

Isabella moaned softly before she could stop herself, Anthony quickly pulling away, lips red. Wow. Wow. So that was what it was like to kiss him? As she looked back up into his beautiful eyes, some of the fog in her head cleared, only to be replaced by how good that felt. She had to do it again. She had to know what it felt like to kiss him again.

It seemed like Anthony felt the same way, because one of his hands flew up to cup her head as he pushed her back against the door, a loud gasp tearing from her throat just before he took her lips in a kiss once more. There it was. This, right here. She melted into his embrace, clutching as his shirt with her hands as she hungrily kissed him back, Anthony moaning into her mouth before he slid his tongue past her lips. Her head spun as she lost herself in his kisses, her body lighting up with an electricity she hadn’t felt in a long time as their bodies surged together, moaning again as his free hand slid over her ass and squeezed. Never had she felt like this with a first kiss. Never had she wanted this much.

Then Anthony broke the kiss, barely pulling away, just enough so she could blearily see that he was panting as hard as she was.

“Do you want to…?”

“Yes.”

*

It was her pounding headache that woke her up, paired with the start of rolling nausea. All Isabella could do for longer than she could tell was breathe in and out slowly, measured breaths careful enough to not set off a run to the bathroom that she didn’t really want to do. She knew she drank more than she usually would last night; not enough to be obliterated, no, but these were the consequences that always reminded her why she had her alcohol limits. Her head feeling like it was going to crack in two, her stomach clenching over and over, her bare body clammy and chilled in the early morning air.

Wait, what?

Bare body. She was naked? What?

The moment that her mind processed the new information, the end of the evening caught up with her, reminding her exactly what had happened. Clutching hands, clashing lips, heated breath, stinging bites, pleasure like she’d never felt before. Anthony filling her, surrounding her, moaning out her name as she cried out his. Fuck.

Oh fuck what had she done? Tears stung at her eyes, clouding her gaze as she slowly glanced over her shoulder, carefully so as not to make her nausea worse…and there he was, just as naked as she was. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. She clasped a hand over her mouth to muffle any sounds that might escape her, glad she’d done so as the arm she hadn’t noticed draped over her waist tightened slightly with her minor movement.

She’d ruined everything. Everything. How could she have been so stupid to give in to her desires for him? How could anything ever be the same again between them?

Tears finally trickled down her cheeks as Anthony huffed a breath that ruffled her curls, his legs shifting enough to slot one of them between hers. As she cried, biting her bottom lip to muffle her quiet sobs, her headache came back with full force, throbbing like nothing she’d ever felt before. It was all Isabella could do to close her eyes, willing herself to fall asleep, hoping that when she woke up again that all of this would disappear. A stupid aimless hope, she knew that, but it was all she could cling to.

She drifted in and out of sleep as the hours went on, head pounding and swimming enough that she couldn’t wake herself up fully let alone move, but by the time that the midday sun filtered through the curtains she knew she couldn’t avoid getting out of bed anymore.

Just as she was gathering the courage to remove his arm from her waist, that arm tightened again, pulling her roughly back against his bare body, making her gasp loud enough for Anthony to flinch -and quickly shoot back across the bed as he woke up in alarm.

“Shit. Shit, Bells…”

Isabella let out a shaky breath before sitting upright, clutching the bedsheets to her chest in a poor attempt at modesty.

“Hi Beau,” she said with a watery smile.

She knew her smile looked as fake as it felt by the way that Anthony’s face fell. He ran a hand through his hair, looking at a loss for words, so she stayed silent too. There was nothing she could say to make this situation better, she knew that. And it wasn’t like she even knew what to say either. Everything she had worked so hard to prevent, the loss of their friendship being the main part, was for nothing. This was the beginning of the end – and by the way he wouldn’t look at her, she felt it in her bones as a certainty.

“I…”

She cut herself off, swallowing heavily to stop the lump rising in her throat as Anthony closed his eyes briefly. Fuck. Fuck.

“I’m going to shower. And pack all my stuff,” she eventually managed to say.

That, at least, made Anthony finally look over at her.

“What?”

She cleared her throat, willing herself not to cry at the intensity in his beautiful blue eyes.

“I fly home tomorrow, and I haven’t packed yet. There’s only this afternoon left to do it, and seeing as I have to be at the airport by 6.30am, I really don’t want to be packing last minute tomorrow morning,” she said as calmly as she could.

“Bells, wait, please,” he murmured.

She forced a polite smile on her face, hating that he winced when he saw it, hating that it was necessary to make her feel even a little bit of normality.

“And I think I’ll book a taxi to take me to the airport too, as it’s early,” she finished.

Rather than Anthony taking her, as they’d agreed previously. Before this clusterfuck ending of their friendship.

“No,” he said sharply.

“What?” she said, bland masking failing a little.

“I’ll still drive you to the airport,” he said.

Why? Why would he want to do that?

“You don’t have to,” she said, voice cracking.

“I want to,” Anthony said, shaking his head, “Please, Bells.”

The desperation in his voice made her heart ache as much as it confused her. Why was he so insistent? Why did he want to do this?

“Sure.”

The relief in Anthony’s eyes only confused her more.

*

Friday was possibly the most awkward day she’d ever spent in Anthony’s company. Isabella had managed to make it through her shower with shaky legs, eventually sliding down the wall to huddle on the shower floor, the sound of the shower muffling her crying enough for Anthony to leave her in peace as he caught an uber back to the arena to collect his car. Even when he arrived back, he still left her alone to pack all her things scattered around the guest room, which she somehow managed to stretch out into taking two hours. The rest of the day had been spent avoiding him as much as possible, sitting at opposite ends of the sofa while they ate pizza that night, neither one of them wanting to cook for obvious reasons, and she had claimed an early night for her early start the next day.

But it had taken so long for her to fall asleep, her mind not shutting off, overthinking every little interaction the two of them had that day, so by the time her alarm went off at 5am she was even more exhausted than the day before. Still, she knew she couldn’t delay the inevitable, and got up to leave Anthony for what she feared would be the last time.

Because that was where this was heading, wasn’t it? Everything between them – their friendship, their closeness, all that they shared – had been ruined the moment she stepped into his bedroom in an alcohol-fuelled lust haze. Neither of them had made the step forward yesterday to do anything about their dwindling friendship, and now…now it was too late.

Her flight from Vancouver was due to leave at 8.35am, with her due to land in LaGuardia at 8pm, having one stop for connecting flight in Denver for 1.45hrs. Her company had booked flights for the cheapest options available; the timings and airports weren’t her choice at all, but in this moment, the early flight was some kind of blessing.

Unsurprisingly, their drive to airport was quiet. Isabella didn’t even have a coffee mug to distract herself with, not wanting the caffeine in this jittery body before she ate something a little later, so the time in the car with him felt like it dragged. That aching feeling only dragged out when Anthony paid $5.00 for the parkade and walked her to the main departures doors.

“So I guess this is goodbye,” Anthony murmured, handing her the suitcase he wheeled over from the car for her.

Why did that hurt so much more than she thought it would?

“I guess so,” she said softly, clutching at her handbag like it was a lifeline.

Without warning, Anthony stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug. Isabella couldn’t stop the whimper that escaped her throat, and she found herself hugging him back just as tightly, burying her face in the crook of his neck, trying not to tremble at the close contact. She could feel his face pressing into her curls, his breathing shaky like he was trying not to cry, and she desperately willed herself not to cry either when tears stung her eyes. This wasn’t fair. How had everything boiled down to this, after all their years of friendship? How was everything over?

She couldn’t do this anymore. She couldn’t cling onto him when she knew that any moment she would have to let him go for real. So, Isabella found the strength to unclench her hands from his shirt, taking the step backwards that she didn’t want to take. Hundreds of words flew around her head, everything she wanted to say to him that she didn’t know how to voice. And it looked like he wanted to say something too, lips parting and hand raising towards her…until his hand dropped back to his side and he took a proper step backwards, clearing his throat.

A little bit of her died inside at the misery in his eyes.

Was this really goodbye forever?

“Have a safe flight. Let me know when you land?” Anthony said softly.

“It won’t be for nearly 9 hours,” she said, hesitating.

“I don’t care,” he said immediately, “Please?”

She just sighed, nodding. “Yeah, of course Beau.”

He smiled in response, but it just looked sad to her. As sad as the emptiness in his eyes. But before she could say anything to change his expression even the slightest bit, a big shuttle bus pulled up and a group of loud people stepped out, ruining the last chance. Their last chance?

It was all Isabella could to do smile sadly at him as she walked into the airport.

Her flight was restless – she was too awake to sleep but too caught up in her thoughts to read a book or watch a movie. If she was being honest with herself, she couldn’t even remember what she ate. If she ate. All she was able to do, as if punishing herself further, was to put her headphones over her ears to drown the world out and listen to the playlist he had made her for her original flight out, silently crying the whole time.

Her seatmate hadn’t noticed the way she was falling apart next to her.

Eventually she had to face reality as her plane landed in LaGuardia. It would do no good for her heart if she didn’t text Anthony as he’d asked her to, so she pulled out her phone as she waited for the plane to start disembarking.

~

From: Isabella Hey, just landed.

~

It was short and to the point, but it was all she could manage while she felt like a dried-out husk. Somehow, tears stung at her eyes when he immediately messaged back, like he was waiting for her in a way that made no sense.

~

From: Anthony Thank you for letting me know. I hope your flight was okay.

~

Was that concern? Was that politeness? She couldn’t figure it out in her exhausted state so she just exited out of their conversation and put her phone away. That was a problem for another day. All she could manage right now was standing up out of her seat and shuffling off the plane. Everything else could wait for tomorrow. It would have to.

*

Seven days. Seven days passed without a word from Anthony. This was the longest they’d ever gone without speaking, the time stretching out like an impossible chasm. She knew she could’ve responded to his message after her flight, but she hadn’t known what to say, and a couple of days later it felt too late to respond to that particular thread of conversation. But Anthony hadn’t contacted her again either. Maybe it really had been politeness, his comment on her journey, but if it wasn’t then she didn’t really know what to think.

All she knew was that the longer she didn’t text him and the longer that he didn’t text her, she felt like her fragile heart was crumbling, and she didn’t know how to salvage any of it – if anything could be salvaged at all.

Her body ached, the loss of contact with him feeling like a missing limb. She hadn’t felt heartbreak like this before, not with any ex-boyfriends, and this time it was all her fault anyway. Maybe she deserved to feel this empty, this aching. It was all she could do to trudge forward on auto-pilot, trying to get back into her routine as a desperate attempt to cling onto some form of normality. By the time Saturday 22nd rolled around though, she was done. Without work to distract her like it had all week, Isabella knew she needed to get out of her apartment or she would go insane from her overbearing thoughts. So she decided to treat herself to lunch out at a secluded café she hadn’t been to in a while, allowing the walk to clear her foggy thoughts, and by the time her sandwich was in front of her she felt a little more human.

“Bells?”

Isabella looked up sharply, breath hitching at the man standing in front of her.

Mat.

She hadn’t forgotten that this was the café that she, Anthony, and Mat used to all go to together. That did make sense why she hadn’t been there since he left New York though.

“Hey, Barzy, fancy bumping into you here,” she said warmly.

Mat just smiled as she stood up from her seat, wasting no time in giving her a big hug, making her laugh as she hugged him back. Clearly he had the same thoughts as her, getting out for a little while, especially considering he’d just had a run of playoff games against Carolina on Monday 17th, Wednesday 19th, and Friday 21st.

“I know we’ve texted back and forth a lot but I can’t believe I haven’t seen you since Beau got traded,” she said, smiling softly as he sat down opposite her.

But the moment that his smile turned sympathetic, she knew.

“He told you?” she murmured, smile falling.

He bit his bottom lip, hesitating, but that only made her feel worse.

“Barzy please, did he tell you what happened in Vancouver?” she whispered harshly.

Mat huffed out a sign before nodding “He did.”

She immediately felt sick, physically and mentally, her whole body seizing - but Mat quickly shook his head at whatever her face was doing.

“Bells, no, only because he’s freaking out that he’s ruined everything,” Mat insisted.

“Ruined everything?” she asked quietly, her voice catching in her throat as she tried to breathe.

“Look, I don’t know the details. And I sure as hell don’t really want to know them, that’s between you two,” Mat said firmly.

She couldn’t help but laugh softly at the dramatic grimace on his face, and Mat’s expression softened.

“He’s in a real mess, Bells. I’ve never seen him like this before,” Mat said, smiling sadly, “Did he ruin everything?”

He was in a mess? Just as much as she was?

“No, no he hasn’t,” she said with a sad smile, “I thought I did.”

“Man, you two are as bad as each other. I thought your trip to Vancouver would’ve sorted that out finally,” Mat sighed.

What? Sorted what out?

“What?” she managed to choke out.

Mat just shook his head fondly. “Everyone saw the way you two look at each other. We all thought you’d get together, although I’m pretty sure some of the rookies thought you were already dating.”

Well that was something she thought she’d never hear. What the hell?

“I just…he’s one of my best friends, you know? You’re my friend too - and you’re good for him. I want things to be back to normal between you two,” Mat said, smiling sadly.

If that didn’t break her heart even further, she didn’t know what would.

“I don’t know if they can ever go back to normal,” she admitted, hating the words as honest as they were, eyes stinging slightly, “But I don’t want to lose him. I just don’t know what to do.”

He pursed his lips, nodding as he fell silent for a moment. It was all she could do to sip at her coffee, especially as it looked like her friend was thinking hard.

“Do you like him?” Mat asked suddenly.

“W-What?”

“Do you like him? As more than a friend?”

She choked out a laugh, glancing up at the ceiling, trying to fight the tears that sprang to her eyes again. What kind of question was that? Of course she did. She’d never denied it, not that anyone had ever asked her. Anthony was her person, one of the only people in her life that she truly trusted. Of course she liked him. Hell, she was already falling in love with him at this point, she could admit that much to herself. And if Mat’s words held any truth…maybe he was falling for her too?

“Yeah. Yeah, I do like him. More than I probably should for someone who’s never heard from his lips how he feels about me,” she eventually admitted.

Mat’s face split into a smile. “Leave this with me.”

What?

“Barzy…” she warned.

“No, I’m serious, leave it with me. Do you trust me?” Mat said firmly.

“Yeah, you know I do,” Isabella said without hesitation.

Because she did. There wasn’t a malicious bone in Mat Barzal’s body, especially when it came to his friends, and Isabella was fortunate to count herself as one of them. But what did he mean?

“Then let me talk to him, okay? This will all work out, Bells,” Mat said seriously, “You’ll see.”

Hope was dangerous for her fragile heart. But here Mat was, dangling it down on a silver string.

“I really hope you’re right, Barzy,” she sighed.

He just grinned. A thousand girls would kill to have that beaming smile sent their way, but all she could think about was his blue-eyed friend on the other side of Canada.

“I’d better go – got the 4th game in our playoffs series tomorrow. But don’t be a stranger,” Mat said, standing up from his eat.

“I won’t. I’m rooting for you guys against the Canes,” she said, smiling despite the whirling of her emotions.

“Damn right you are,” he grinned.

There was the Mat she knew.

*

A few days more days passed without a word from Mat, or from…anyone else. She knew that Mat was busy, obviously having watched his 4th playoff game on Sunday. She’d even texted him after his 5-2 loss against the Canes, getting nothing but a crying face back which was more than she could’ve hoped for from him in this intense time. But nothing else, and she tried not to let that hope flicker away. She wouldn’t let herself get invested, not until she knew anything for sure. She couldn’t, otherwise she didn’t know if she would survive.

It took until Tuesday 25th for Isabella to wake up with a text from Anthony.

Her hands shook as she flicked open their neglected message thread, eyes stinging as she scanned his words.

~

From: Anthony I’m sorry that I haven’t texted you. I’m guessing you haven’t texted me either for the same reasons. I hate that everything’s gotten so awkward and distant between us but talking with Barzy yesterday gave me hope. Will you please listen to this playlist? we’re lost and found.

~

Isabella had already planned on working from home today but this would’ve pushed her to anyway. He’d actually messaged her. There was still hope? Anthony hadn’t given up on them after all. He’d made her a new playlist? And from the sounds of it, if he’d talked to Barzy like Barzy said he would, this was going to be something that was either going to break her heart for good or give her more hope than she knew what to do with.

Rather than opening the link on her phone, she opened up her personal laptop, clicking on the playlist we’re lost and found when Spotify was open, and quickly clicked play.

“Sunlight comes creepin' in, Illuminates our skin, We watched the day go by, Stories of all we did, It made me think of you, It made me think of you.”

As the lyrics to Birdy’s Wings filled the room, Isabella could do nothing to stop the tears from springing to her eyes. This song was one of her current favourites, he knew this. And if he’d remembered that…what else had he included in the playlist? She quickly scrolled through the rest of the list, eyes scanning every song, every choice he made, aching pangs starting in her chest at his selections.

Wings – Birdy Never Let Me Go – Florence + The Machine Hold You – Nina Nesbitt, Kodaline Wherever You Will Go – Charlene Soraia Teach Me How to Be Loved – Rebecca Ferguson Set Me on Fire – Bella Ferraro Kiss Me – Jason Walker Yours – Ella Henderson Still into You – Paramore Adore You – Harry Styles Tongue Tied – Take Me To Your Best Friends House Slow Hands – Niall Horan I Choose You – Sara Bareilles Lover – Taylor Swift Lover Of Mine – 5 Seconds of Summer this is how you fall in love – Jason Zucker, Chelsea Cutler Falling Like The Stars – James Arthur A Thousand Years – Christina Perri Take Me To Church – Hozier Next To Me – Emeli Sandé I Won’t Give Up – Jason Mraz When You Love Someone – James TW

She felt like she wasn’t breathing, couldn’t breathe, the long curated-collection sending her thoughts scrambling. Did he really feel…? Was he really saying…? Why was he only saying this now, when everything had become so fraught between them?

“If I could, then I would, I’d go wherever you will go.”

The Charlene Soraia cover, another favourite. Fuck, he really had put so much effort into this, hadn’t he? The thoughts, the emotions, everything that he was feeling he had put into this playlist. Playlists were their thing, and the fact that he’d made something like this for her, to show her how he felt…it was everything. She let the music wash over her, tears pouring down her cheeks as she let her heart truly feel what it wanted to feel for the first time, soaking in all of the emotion that he’d poured into this playlist. This was him, and this was her, and it was them. What more could she say?

“But with you I’ve learned how to let it out, Now my heart is ready to burst, Cause I feel like I’m ready for love, And I want to be your everything and more.”

Ella Henderson’s voice continued to spill out from her laptop speakers, but Isabella couldn’t take anymore. She had to speak to him. She had to know…she had to…fuck, she needed to hear his voice. And it only took three rings for him to answer.

“Hey, Bells.”

She sniffled as a couple of tears trickled down her cheeks, closing her eyes at the sound of his voice. “Hey, Beau.”

They fell silent for a moment, just listening to each other breathe, before Anthony eventually cleared his throat.

“You’re listening to the playlist then? I can hear Ella singing in the background.”

He knew it that well, that he could recognise a faint song? How many times had he listened to these songs before he sent them over?

“Yeah. Yeah I am. I have to know…Beau, why did you create this? Why these songs?” she murmured, eyes finally opening, staring at the list in front of her.

He huffed out a laugh, sighing softly.

“It’s always going to be you, Bells. There’s no-one else for me.”

The sound that tore out of her throat barely felt human, and her free hand quickly flew up to cover her mouth, a distraught sound coming through the phone as Anthony heard her.

“Hey, talk to me, please?”

She took a shaky breath, willing herself to stay calm, to keep herself together, and she nodded to herself, steeling her nerves.

“There’s no-one else for you?” she murmured.

“There hasn’t been for a long time.”

The smile that tugged at her lips felt traitorous somehow, her mind not believing his words. He’s liked her for a long time? How was this real? As if he could sense her warring thoughts, Anthony sighed.

“I don’t know what to say to make you believe me. Please, just listen to the songs. They show everything that I can’t over the phone. Music has always spoken for us before, right? So I’m trying to let it speak for me now.”

He was right. Music had always been the thing that connected them, that said everything they didn’t need to say. Except this time, she needed him to say something – and here he was, translating himself in a way that spoke to them both.

“You really feel this way about me?” she said softly, her voice filled with wonder.

“I really do. And I’m hoping, from everything Barzy said and the fact that you haven’t hung up on my yet, that you feel this way for me too?”

Right, because she hadn’t actually said anything that was on her mind. It was all him. Just like always.

“Yeah, Beau, I do. I like you so much,” she said, choking out a laugh, “I just…didn’t think you would ever feel the same for me. The last week has been torture.”

“I’m so sorry. I am so unbelievably sorry for ever making you feel like you aren’t the most important person in my life.”

She choked out a sob this time, her body thrumming, her heart aching, Anthony just making soft reassuring noises through the speaker until she was able to compose herself once more.

“I’ve got locker clear out tomorrow, and then…then I’m thinking about coming to New York for a few weeks. I think we should talk, really talk, face to face. We both deserve that much.”

“Yeah, you’re right. And I’d like that,” she said, a little shyly.

With further tentative plans for Isabella to join him in Quebec after he spent some time with her in New York, she ended the call, her heart full and her cheeks aching with smiling, tacky with happy tears.

Maybe she didn’t know what tomorrow would hold. Or next month. Or even when Anthony was back in Vancouver all over again. But she knew that what she felt for him was worth trying for. And wasn’t that all that mattered anyway? Anthony Beauvillier was falling in love with her just like she was falling in love with him, and she couldn’t wait to see where this journey would take her, especially with him by her side.

[finanmoghra]

Charming Irishman

pairing modern!Finan x reader

summary an irish pub opens in front of your flower shop, and you can't resist that charming irish who owns it.

warnings smut, finan in general

word count 4.1k

gif credit

a/n guys english isn't my first language and i've never wrote smut in eng, so forgive me for any mistakes, i tried my best. also i suck with small talk so maybe things will happen "fast"

-

It's a typical thursday at Winchester, you are heading your way to your flower shop as you always do in the mornings. That street is so habitual to you by now, the tiny coffee shop, the record store, the stationery shop, and oh, that irish pub of course. That place used to be a lot of stuff until 4 months ago when some men bought the place and open an irish pub right in front of your shop. You don't talk like it's an annoyance, everythings is quiet as usual for a pub during the day, but you're not so sure about the night.

The thing is, a month or two ago, a dark-haired man walked into your shop, with a smirk on his face, you have seen him around, principally that smirk, you noticed that he worked at the pub but when you first heard his voice with the strong accent you assumed that he was the owner. At the first time, he asked for your help to buy some flowers for his sister, whose were moving back to the town, he explained in an attempt to start a conversation, you suggested him pink roses and while you prepare the bouquet, he introduced himself as Finan, and as you assumed, the pub owner. You had a samll talk before he left.

Two weeks after that, Finan started coming over every week, usually on thursday, like today, and you always have his order almost ready by the time he shows up. You two got along very easily, he was all flirty over you, politely, however. You started to have longer conversations as the weeks passed by and was in one of those that he explained why the same order every week. His mother was struggling with some problems and when he showep up at the family dinner with flowers for his sister, he noticed that she got a bit emotional, so now he takes 'em every week to cheer her up. You couldn't resist thinking he's such a sweet guy after that, even though you try not to give attention to his flirts, you can't deny that you enjoy his company, he has been saving you from boredom and entertaining you on monotonous days, as he casually shows up on days other than thursdays.

The hours fly by and when you realise, you're hearing the front door bell ringing and a familiar figure walk in.

— Hi Finan, it's been a time since I've seen you. — you say with a little smile on your face.

— Hey Y/N! Did ya miss me? — you could tell that damn smirk was on his face even if you weren't looking.

— Miss your jerk face? Never. — yes, you did miss him.

— I'm gonna take it as a compliment. — he winked at you — Sorry about my absence, it's been a busy week.

— St. Patrick's Day, I presume.

— Yeah, we have some weeks until then, but as an irish, I have to make a proper celebration, ya know. — he tapped his fingers at the counter while looking at you — And talking about pub stuff, ya should come for the happy hour tomorrow.

As consistent as his visits on thursday, it is his invitations.

— I'm gonna think about it. — you say as you finish the bouquet, you won't admmit but you always leave some things to do when he arrives so you have more time to enjoy his company.

— C'mon, ya always say that! Ya have to meet the pub and the boys wants to know ya better!

The boys whose Finan is talking about are, Sihtric and Osferth, who both work with him, and Uhtred, they're Finan's best friends who he is always talking about. You kinda know them from seeing around but never really talked to them.

And, he's right. You always says the same thing, but in your defense it's been a bit hard to resist all these flirts, and you fear getting closer to him and ending up with a broken heart. You're sure he's a sweet, kind and cool guy, but also he seems to be quite womanising as well.

— I swear I'm going to think about it. — a smile grew up on your face as you realise he got puppy eyes

— Really? — he asks.

— Really! — you roll your eyes although you're smiling to him.

You two got engaged into a conversation and don't even see the time passing.

— Damn it! I'm really late, I have to go now. — he says after having a look on his watch.

You were ready to say something when he gets close and pecked you in your cheek. — Bye, lady. — he says as he walk away.

You could feel your cheeks getting warm and you froze but managed to say something before he leaves.

— You may see me tomorrow.

He didn't say anything but you know he was wearing that smirk.

-

Finan's visit at your store is not the only constance in your thursdays, actually you reunite with your former roommate and best friend, Ealswith, at thursday's nights. You two meet when you were both on college and had started living together after some time, it's been a while since you two live separetely, but you two still really closer, thankfully to the girls' night.

You two were really enjoying the night while having some wine and snacks, listening to music and soon that topic came up.

— He came over today, as usual, invited me to go to the pub tomorrow, I said I was going to think.

— As usual. — Ealswith mumbles.

— Stop it. — you smack her arm — And he kissed me before leaving. At the cheek! — I say before she get too excited.

— C'mon! You should go, really. You can no more act like you don't like him, it's so obvious.

— I cannot go! You know it.

— I know what? By the way you tell me, he's into you! And he wants to know you better out of your workspace.

You start to argument but Ealswith cuts you. — Don't say you afraid! You need to stop assuming things, maybe he's all flirty because he likes you.

— I- argh.. — you hide your face in your hands, you know she's right.

— Hey, hey! Look at me. Tomorrow you will close the shop, go to your home and I will meet you there to help you get ready, I'm going with you so if anything goes wrong or you don't feel well, we go home, right?

— Don't you think he's gonna find it, I don't know, weird to bring someone?

— I'm pretty sure he will understand you not going alone, and hey, maybe you can set me up with one of his friends. — she winks at you and you both start laughing.

— Okay, alright then.

-

So as planned, Ealswith showed up at your house to help you get ready as you were too nervous, it took a while but you could finally decided what to wear. It was nearly 6 p.m when you asked for a cab and it didn't take too long to arrive so in a few minutes you were at the pub.

You could feel your hand a bit shaky before walk in, but Ealswith noticed and hold it 'til you calm down.

You entered the pub and looked for that familiar figure, you couldn't find him but you managed to find Osferth, who waved at you and called Finan's attention to you.

— Hey Y/N! Are ya really here? — he greets you, laughing a bit

— I told you would maybe see me today!

— Don't blame me for being surprised. — You rolled your eyes at his answer, still smiling. — Ya brought a friend, hi!

You intruduce her to Finan and after that he takes both of you to their table, and properly presents you to the boys.

— What do ya ladies would like to drink? — he asks as we are all settled down.

— Just a pint, it's good. Right? — you turns to Ealswith and she nodded.

— One more round then! — he says to the waiter close to our table.

— It's good to finally meet you, Y/N! If you didn't work here in front I would think that Finan made you up. — Sihtric says and makes Uhtred and Osferth laughs and Finan roll his eyes.

— Yeah, it's nice to have an opportunity to see if everything Finan says about you, it's true. — Uhtred takes part.

You can ser Finan's cheeks a little bit red and you smile at this. — Well, I hope he have only said good things about me. — you answer kinda shy yet.

— Trust me, not a single bad thing. — Uhtred says.

— Except from you never accepting his invitations. — Osferth says and Finan smack his arm. Poor boy.

— It's good for you all to meet Y/N, and it's good for me to finally see the face of the mainly topic of our talks. — Ealswith says and you can feel the blood rushing to your cheeks as it get warm up.

— Hope you've heard of us too. — Sihtric winks at her.

-

Anyone who passed by your table would think you were all friends for years, you got along easily and the night was being so fun, you were really enjoying their company.

After some time, you and Ealswith excused yourselves and headed the way to the toilet.

— God! He's so into you, more than I've thought. — she exclaimed at the moment you were out of their sight.

— Do you think? — yeah, you noticed how he looked at you since you arrived, but you didn't want to assume something.

— You know I say this because I love you, but stop being a fool! He fell down for you, I can say it for sure by what his friends said.

You couldn't argument with her, the signs were there and you have to admit that this is all you have wished for.

On the way back to the table you told her to go ahead and you were just back her. You stopped at the bar and asked for water, and while waiting you felt someone approach, you prepare to deal with a drunk guy who's trying to get along with some woman, but actually you feel chills when you heard that voice.

— May I say ya look stunning tonight?

— I would appreciate it, yeah. — you smile as you turn to him. You may be dreaming about that voice and smirk for days long.

— It's everything alright? — Finan asks.

— Yeah, just needed a bit of water before going back. — the bartender hands you a glass of water and you thanks him.

— So, what ya think? — he points to the place.

— You did a good job here, it's a nice place for sure.

— I'm not even going to ask about my friends 'cause this is something for Ealswith to answer. — we both shared a laugh.

— She and Sihtric got along very well, I see.

— Don't blame her, he can be very persuasive.

— So does she.

You two spent some time talking alone, just sharing things and getting more closer to each other.

When you two decided to go back to the group table they were all laughing of something.

— What's happening? — Finan asks as he pull a chair for you on his side.

— We were just telling Ealswith about one day after we started here and you crossed the streets so many times trying to get a reason to go to Y/N's shop. — Sihtric answers, still laughing.

— We're surprised you didn't notice him, Y/N! — Osferth says. — Otherwise I think you'd be scared of him.

— Good I didn't notice though. — I reply laughing at Finan.

— Alright, alright, stop talking about me.

You got a bit lost at the conversation when he stretched his arm across your chair and you could feel his fingers running through your undressed shoulder.

-

It was nearly midnight when you and Ealswith decided to go home. You said goodbye to the boys, saying it was nice to meet them and on the way out, Finan decided to go along with you.

You were at the pub entrance waiting for the cab Ealswith asked for, you could feel Finan catching your hand into his, he pulled you closer to say:

— It was a good night.

— Yeah, it was. — you said with a low voice just for him to hear.

— Hope we can repeat it, or maybe just the two of us. — he winked at you.

— I would like that, for sure.

You two were getting really closer when Ealswith call you out. — Y/N! It's here.

— See you thursday. — you smile at him, you walked away but turned back when remember something. — I almost forget it. — you handle him your shop card, but at the back you've written your personal number.

He catched it and you didn't think so much before approaching just to peck him in the lips for a few seconds before leaving.

— This woman will drive me crazy. — he speaks to himself when you've already leave.

-

Another week just started, you spent your weekend betwen spending some time with your friends trying to keeping up with everyone's lives and chatting with Finan. The last part taking over your weekend.

Things were getting a little bit more serious since you kissed him goodbye on friday and you allowed yourself to be open to a possible romance. Finan's flirty personality stayed the same, he would do it at any chance it was given to him, and you like it, it's good to feel that somebody wants you.

You were talking to your friend, Aethelflaed, on the phone about Finan and you jumped when you heard the sound of the door bell thinking that could be him but you turned around and saw a boy with curly hair into your shop.

— Morning! How can I help you?

— I'm Aethelstan, I'm here for the assistant job, we've talked on the phone. — the boy says, a bit shy.

— Oh, right, Aethelstan! I'm sorry I was a bit distracted. — you shake hands with him. —You've mentioned you are studying biology, am I correct?

— Yes, you are.

— So I think the flower stuff is gonna be easy, I just need to show you some other things and then you can have your first day here, and at the end of the day we discuss if everything is going alright.

-

The kid learnt the things pretty well, that was good because it's been a busy day so far.

You were checking some things at the computer when you saw a familiar figure at the other side of the street, he had just arrived, it seemed.

— Aethelstan, I'm going out quickly, pay attention if someone comes in. — you say a bit loud as the kid was at the back of the store.

You crossed the street before he get into the pub. — Finan,hey! — you call his attention.

—Y/N, hi! — he comes closer to hug you quickly.

— I just wanted to ask what are the plans for St. Patrick's day?

— So ya're planning to come?

— Only if it's seems cool enough. — you give him a smirk

— I won't say more than this, but if ya come ya gonna experience the best party of your life.

— I don't know if I believe, but I'll give you try.

— You should bring Ealswith! — you jumped when you heard Sihtric, he showed up from nowhere. — I'm sorry I have to steal your man but we got work to do.

You felt the warm on your cheeks after he called Finan "your man", but you didn't say anything, actually you liked it.

— See ya later! — you hear Finan says before being dragged by Sihtric. You blowed him a kiss before he entered the pub and then you went back to your store.

-

It seemed that an eternity have passed before friday arrives. It was a busy week and you barely saw him, even on thursday, he came but was in a hurry.

It was a good week, although. Aethelstan really helped you, you just found out that he and Finan are neighbors, they both live at the same building. The poor boy had to listen you talking about Finan a lot during that week, especially when Ealswith and Aethelflaed came.

You were actually doing nothing but counting the hours for you to go home, and Aethelstan noticed it.

— You know you can go home and let me finish stuff here, I can close the store.

— Are you sure of this?

— Yeah, it's not a big deal, you can trust me.

He was right, it was not a big deal.

— Okay then, thanks Aethelstan! See you monday.

It didn't take long for you to arrive at home, of course you had decided your outfit during the week, you were only waiting for Aethelflaed and Ealswith to come so you could get ready. Once the girls arrived and you all got ready, your home was a mess after this, you took a cab to the pub.

The pub was more crowded than usual, you notice that once you arrived, but it wasn't hard to find Finan as he and his friends were at the same place as the last week. You greeted everyone before getting a seat at his side, you introduced Aethelflaed to them and also met Uhtred's fiancé, Gisela, she was a kind woman, you hope you get more chances to hang out with her.

The night was going really well, you and the girls have danced a lot, you ordered too many green drinks, that you weren't sure of what it was, you were all having fun, there wasn't a moment when someone wasn't laughing. You felt really happy between them all, it was good feelings that you have made new friendships like them.

-

Things went a little wild when Finan intercepted you on your way back from the toilet and took you to his office upstairs. He closed the door behind you, his arms now rounding you.

— Oi! Calm down, my dear. — you said, not knowing exactly how to deal with him so close to you.

— I cannot, not when ya are out there being so beautiful, I can't stay away from ya anymore. — you feel chills when his hands squeeze your waist, pulling you closer to him

— You don't need to. — you gave him a smirk, but it didn't last too long as he got even more closer and catched your lips in his.

You felt breathless, it was even better than you thought, his lips were soft but rough over yours. His hands sliding down on your hips, it was a sign that things were getting hotter. When both of you were running out of breath, you could feel him break the kiss but leading the way of his lips to your neck. You gasped with the sensation, he sucked that point behind your ear.

You could feel his hardness against his trousers as he grabbed your arse, you started to feel the need to get rid of your clothes and when you took your hands to Finan's shirt he took a step back. You didn't understand why he would do that.

— Look, I really want ya, but I'm not doing in the right way. — he could see your confusion. — I didn't plan for this to happen here, so what ya think about going home with me, uh?

— I don't want to look desperate, but please, take me home. — you kissed him before you two settled down and go downstairs. You found Aethelflaed on the way and told her where you were going before leave.

The way on the cab was.. something. His hands running through your thighs all the way to his home, you were glad it was close. As soon as you entered at his flat, he pinned you on the door, kissing you hunger than before. He picked you up, your thighs now almost undressed under his touch as he leads you to his bedroom.

— Ya have no idea how many times I've thought about ya, about your lips against mine. Ya are such a dream, Y/N. — he says as he laid you on his bed, making sure to touch every inch of your body.

You pulled him closer enough to whisper on his ear. — And you have no idea of how many nights I dreamed about you touching me like this.

He kissed you hard, hands undoing the zipper of your dress and soon you were only wearing a black lace matching underwear. The look he gave you made you feel like you were burning inside.

— It isn't fair that you are all dressed yet. — you said running your fingers through his, still dressed, chest.

— This won't be a problem anymore. — he smirked at you as he started to unbutton his shirt. It didn't take so long until both of you were only on your underwear, you not so much as he took your bra off, sucking on your breasts, before going down on your body, starting to run his mouth on your inner thigh while playing with the laces on your panties before taking off.

You let a moan out when his lips pressed on your sweet spot, he went dived onto you, sucking on your clit, making you feel like you were in heaven.

— Finan, please, more! — you groaned when you felt his finger rounding you before enter you. You couldn't control your moans, praising him as his fingers curved inside you, hitting that spot. You couldn't contain your hands from pulling his hair when you came on his mouth.

You only had time to take a deep breath before Finan was all over you, kissing you breathless, your taste on his tongue. He parted the kiss, smiling at you as he brushes your hair off your face.

— Are ya ok? For another one?

— More than ok! — you answer laughing.

He took a condom from his trausers, rolling on and soon he was back over you. He kissed you as he was slowly entering you, and both of you were groaning loudly. His name leaving in between your lips like you were praising him, the sound of your hips colliding getting louder as he slammed into you. He was relentless, hard and fast on you, your nails scrapping his back, your thighs gripped his hips making he going deeper.

— Fuck, Finan! — you groaned loudly

He flipped you, now you were on top so you started riding him, rolling your hips over his causing to hit your spot. He grabbed your arse and you layed down over him, meeting his lips again, going up and down on him, now with his hands controlling the rhythm. You felt you were close so you started moving faster, soon you were clenching around him, moaning his name as he came right after you.

He slowly pulled out of you, and you fell at his side, breathless.

— That was... I don't even know. — you say between breaths, laughing with him.

— I'll be right back. — he kissed you on your cheeks before getting up, he pick up his boxer and then disappear into some door. He came back with a towel on his hands and get on the bed again. — Now let me take care of ya.

You were already sleepy but you smiled at this.

After he clean both of you, he pulled you so you could lay on his chest, his arms holding you close and all you could do was relax.

— Ya're too good to be true, mo grá. — he left a kiss on your forehead before fall asleep with you.

[jessicas-pi]

multiple boom emojis = i can send mulitple asks, right? 😁

📕

i have literally never said no to another ask so. yknow. yeah absolutely.

Okay for this one i've got this AU that's been bouncing around in my head since i went through a brief yet intense korkie obsession a few days ago.

I call this the Korkie And Ahsoka's List Of Lies AU.

basically: after Satine's death, Korkie steps up to lead a faction of New Mandalorians who basically decide WE'RE GONNA HAVE PEACE, DANGIT!! It seemed like a great idea... except... Korkie is seventeen and has no idea how to run a nonlethal-but-not-exactly-pacifistic-either revolution.

And then he thinks... hey... wasn't Ahsoka just kicked out of the Jedi order? Maybe she'd want a job as his advisor...

So some of his friends go to coruscant and find Ahsoka and basically recruit her. She goes to Mandalore and cheerfully reunites with her old friend, and they get down to business to defeat the death watch.

Ahsoka, who doesn't have lightsabers, starts training with a pair of beskar blades. it's a difficult transition because beskar weighs a lot but lightsaber blades weigh nothing. Eventually she figures it out and she gets really good at it and several Mandalorians get crushes on her because She's So Cool!!!!

Korkie also finds her some armor. she looks even more fabulous now. more mandalorians get crushes on her.

The New New Mandalorians move to take back Mandalore. Ahsoka duels Maul with her beskar swords and wins and even more mandalorians get crushes on her. she's officially a celebrity heartthrob at this point.

She plans to leave afterwards, but Korkie asks her if... maybe... she could stay?

Ahsoka agrees.

Now, here's the thing.

Korkie is technically a clan leader now. Ahsoka owns the darksaber by right of combat. they decide it would work best if they co-ran Mandalore.

They make this announcement standing side-by-side, and the picture of it makes the news.

On Coruscant, Anakin happens to glance at the cover of some Mando'a gossip magazine and sees the photo.

Anakin cannot read Mando'a.

Anakin does not know what the headline says.

Anakin assumes they got married.

Now, Anakin has been having bad dreams lately. He's very worried about Padme, and their unborn children. But he's also too distracted by thinking ahsoka??? snips??? My Padawan??? got married??? do i send her a card??? do i call to tell her congratulations??? to pay attention to palpatine's tale of Plagueis the Wise. He completely spaces it out.

Anyway, padme ends up giving birth just fine, and Anakin is so relieved but also really worried about telling Obi-Wan (who ALREADY KNOWS) and so anakin decides he's just. he's gonna pay a visit to ahsoka on mandalore.

so he goes and meets Ahsoka and congratulates her on her marriage... in front of a bunch of people.

suddenly rumors are FLYING that the co-mand'alors got married in secret somehow. Korkie and Ahsoka quickly consult each other on what to do and they prepare a whole speech announcement about the misunderstanding when suddenly an aide runs up and tells them that apparently, mandalorians love a love story, because they're seeing a huge spike in popularity! even with other factions of Mandalorians!

Korkie and Ahsoka share a look.

"Are we thinking the same thing?"

"We're thinking the same thing."

Korkie and Ahsoka stay up all night rewriting their announcement and practicing their "sappy happy in love" faces (and getting the giggles because of it.) They get korkie's friends--Lagos, Soinee, and Amis--to help them out. none of his friends are actually helpful and they all give conflicting advice.

The announcement goes well (barely. ahsoka almost got the giggles again.) and the mandalorian people are suitably convinced of the love story.

Given Ahsoka's popularity, the Mandalorians become interested in her family as well, and a few notice a slight resemblance between Korkie and Obi-Wan, but there's no big deal until someone unearths that Obi-Wan and the Duchess were in love once.

The rumor mill explodes.

Mandalorians don't really have a problem with the idea that obi-wan's grandpadawan may have married his secret son; given that korkie and ahsoka are separated by two "adoptions" (padawanships) and weren't raised as family or anything. In fact, they find the connection between the two of them to be kind of romantic. like, star crossed lovers were kept apart yet the next generations found a way back together... anyway, it's yet another popularity boost.

but here's the thing.

Korkie isn't a Kenobi.

Korkie knows he's not a Kenobi.

Korkie could even prove he's not a Kenobi.

But... why ruin the dramatic romantic tale that the people of Mandalore have invented?

So Korkie Is A Kenobi gets added to the list of Things We're Pretending Are True (aka the List Of Lies in the title), alongside Korkie And Ahsoka Are Married and Korkie And Ahsoka Are Responsible Adults.

Which they aren't. at all.

In fact, they're a pair of almost-eighteen-year-olds (is that pretty young to be getting married? yeah, definitely, but wookiepedia says that mandalorians married as young as 16 so we're gonna assume it's not considered too young on Mandalore) who have realized that for the first time in their lives, they don't have adults telling them what to do, and while they do have to responsibly rule mandalore, that doesn't mean they can't be wildly immature in their free time.

They have water gun fights inside the palace. They text each other dumb dad jokes during long, boring meetings. They jump on the beds. They have really unhealthy sugar-filled cereal for breakfast. They dress up in cheesy superhero costumes and sneak out at night to do heroic vigilante work. Soinee helps them set up a secret Space Tumblr account called korkie-kenobi-truther and they post korkie kenobi memes.

All is well...

Except for the fact that Palpatine is still alive and nobody knows he's the Sith lord.

That is gonna be an issue.

...to be continued, because this got really really long oh my goodness i totally got carried away i'm sorry about that-

[animatorweirdo]

When the dragons fly (book 2)

You and Aelon start your day peacefully with your three new little friends. Maedhros comes for a visit, but then Aelon finds out Mr. Figwitt's pet turtle has gone missing again. However, the visit to the river turns dangerous when Aelon and his friends encounter a new type of danger.

Chapter 7

Warnings: mentions of the last chapter's dangers, nearly getting hurt, breaking the rules, hiding secrets, possible mentions of PTSD, hiding, smelling feet, mentions of getting eaten, and children being in danger.

-------------------------------------------

You prepared breakfast in the kitchen, cutting the vegetables and cooking the eggs on the stove. The red one of the hatchlings was perched on your shoulder, curiously observing and waiting for you to give it a piece of the food. You handed it a small piece of the cooked egg, and it happily took it from you, purring in satisfaction as it munched on the egg. The green one of the hatchlings was comfortably snuggled around your shoulders, basking in warmth. 

Aelon giggled as he played with the smallest of the hatchlings at the table, feeding it meat from his hands. He was careful with the amount of meat he fed to his friend since you told him there was a high risk the hatchlings could choke or get sick if they ate more than what their stomachs could handle. 

You placed the food on the plates and delivered them to the table. 

The young dragons looked excitedly, thinking the food was meant for them. When you placed the plates on the table, you then heard knocking coming from the door.

"Hey, (Name)! Aelon! It's us. Can we come in?" Helena's voice called out behind the door. 

"Oh dear. Well, we better answer that" you said as you set your hand toward the youngest of the three. The dragon chirped before climbing on your hand. 

"Aelon. Could you please let them in while I take these three to rest?" you asked while you walked into your room, taking the hatchlings with you. 

"Sure," Aelon jumped from his seat and went to let Helena and her father inside. 

"Hey, Helena, Mr. Hadar. What can we do for you?" Aelon asked. 

"Hey, Aelon. Sorry to disturb you when you're obviously having breakfast. My father has some business with (Name), but I wanted to thank you for saving me yesterday. So, here you go," Helena handed him a little bag. 

It was a small pouch tied with a pink ribbon. Aelon curiously opened it and looked inside, finding small, colorful balls. 

"Are these... candy?" Aelon asked with a surprised tone. 

"Yep. Exclusive ones, as well. With blueberries and strawberries, your favorites, right?" Helena asked with a smile. 

"Oh, you don't even get these in town. Thank you, Helena. You didn't have to," Aelon smiled in return. 

"Well, of course, I had to! You're my little hero, and not to mention Ennard was going to hurt you. So, they're all yours, no backsies," Helena stated, ruffling his hair.  

"Well, you're our friend, so of course I would have helped you," Aelon said, making Helena squeal. 

"Oh, Ae! You're too precious for this world!" She hugged him tight against her chest. Aelon only hugged back with a smile. 

You finally returned to see Hadar and Helena hugging Aelon. 

"Hello, Helena, Mr. Hadar. What can we do for you?" you asked as you cleared away the plate of raw meat pieces before they started asking about it. 

"Oh yes, (Name). There was something I wished to discuss with you," Hadar started while Helena was still hugging Aelon. 

"Now that Ennard had been banished for his crimes. There is now an empty spot in the Watchmen, and I was wondering if you would want to take that place?" he asked. "Your combat skills are something I had never seen before, and we could have some use for those skills," Hadar continued as you gave him your attention. 

"You also probably have heard about the recent orc activity. We still have yet to find out the reason for their sudden appearance, but I think you might be able to help us with that," Hadar added. 

You nodded. "That is a concerning matter, but unfortunately, I do not think I would have enough time to be part of the Watchmen," you said. 

"Dwenn is still recovering from his injuries and getting used to seeing with only one eye, so he needs help at his workshop. Not to mention, Helena and I should get started making our next stock to sell for the year," you explained. 

"And I also have certain personal things that need attention, like catching up with Aelon's sword training, now that my arm is in better condition," you motioned to your bandaged arm. 

"So I'm afraid I have to decline the offer," you said. 

"That is reasonable. I understand," Hadar nodded. 

"But since I have little experience with orcs. I am willing to offer my guidance and insight should you ever need it," you said. 

"That is good to hear. I shall take you on that offer," Hadar said. 

Hadar and Helena then left after conversing for minutes and letting you and Aelon dine in peace before you two walked out to the porch. 

"Are we going to train today?" Aelon asked as he picked up the training sword. 

"Hm... not today since we have three extra mouths to feed. We need to check our meat storage," you said after adjusting the bandages on your arms. 

A snort of a horse then caught your attention, and you two then saw a familiar elf approaching from the forest, walking his horse. 

"Is... this bad timing again?" Maedhros asked. 

"Nelyo?" you said with a smile. "So you did find your way to us?"

"Well..." Maedhros started, stopping in front of your porch. "... you said follow the river, and now I'm here," he said as he looked into your eyes. 

"I hope I'm not inconveniencing you today since I came yesterday only to learn you were away," he said. 

"Not at all. I heard from Aelon how you helped him practice his sword skills. I'm very grateful for that," you smiled. "Taking your advice and help might have saved his life," you added. Maedhros looked confused till Aelon looked at him. "I got into a knife fight yesterday," Aelon explained. 

"You did? Why? What happened?" Maedhros frowned with concern in his eyes. 

"Ennard. I told you about him. He was going to do something bad to our friend, so I hit him, and he took out a real knife, trying to hit me with it," Aelon explained. "But I followed your advice and focused on the knife in his hand. It was difficult to avoid, but I managed to dodge his every attack and strike him down," Aelon explained excitedly.

"I..." Maedhros looked baffled for a moment, "That's good to hear. I'm glad you didn't get injured," he said. 

"He did manage to hold me as a prisoner and nearly sliced my throat, but luckily, (Name) came just in time," Aelon pointed at you. 

"Yes. It was a close call," you said, remembering the moment. 

"Ennard had become deranged and after a few unpleasant words. I decided to teach him a harsh lesson," you explained. "The chief and the Watchment banished him for his actions, so he’s no longer a threat,” you added. 

Maedhros gave a subtle nod after hearing the story. "I'm glad to hear that," he said. 

Eweniel then came running, bearing a panicked expression. 

"Aelon! Come quick! It's an emergency again," she uttered before noticing Maedhros. "Oh hey! You're the giant elf from the river!" she pointed at him. 

"Ewe—" you looked at her disapprovingly. 

"Anyway! Rodrick is asking us to meet at the tree," Eweniel looked back at Aelon. 

"Okay... can I go?" Aelon looked at you as you sighed. "If it's that urgent. Run along then," You waved your hand to shoo them away. 

"Okay, thanks!" Aelon ran away with Eweniel, leaving you with the red-haired elf. 

"The children seem quite lively around here," Maedhros said as you stepped toward him with a smile. 

"I do wonder what the emergency is about. Aelon and his friends have a bad tendency to get into all kinds of mischief," you said, then turned your attention to him. "So— how have you been?" 

Aelon and Eweniel arrived at their usual meeting spot beneath the tree. Rodrick was shuffling forth and back, holding his hair while looking more panicked than the last time when he called them over for an emergency. 

"What happened this time?" Aelon asked. 

Rodrick stopped. "Greeny has gone missing again!" 

"Again?!" Aelon stared at Rodrick while their friends groaned. 

"How?" Eweniel asked. 

"It wasn't my fault this time. I swear!" Rodrick said with his hands up. "Greeny disappeared on her own, and Mr. Figwitt thinks I did it and told me to find her," he explained. 

"Could she have gone to the river again?" Aelon asked. 

"Well, we can't come with you this time,” Samuel said as he and Ramuel jumped off the rock to leave. “Yeah, we have to help Mom with the laundry today," Ramuel explained as they walked away. 

"Good luck finding her!" Samuel called out as they left.

Aelon, Eweniel, and Rodrick pondered their situation. 

“What do we do now?” Aelon asked. “We need an adult if we want to go the river,” he added. 

"How about your sister?" Rodrick asked. 

"She can't. She's with a friend, and Helena is too busy to come with us," Aelon explained. 

"Then we just have to go on our own," Eweniel stated. 

"Should we?" Aelon asked. 

"It's just a quick visit. We found Greeny there before. The river is also just next to the village. We’ll find her before anyone even notices we’re gone,” Eweniel said as they began secretly walking toward the river. 

At the river once more, the three friends looked around for the small green creature, having successfully avoided anyone’s notice. 

“Alright, we’re here. Now, where could Greeny have gone this time?” Eweniel questioned with her hands on her hips while her eyes looked around the rocks and the riverbanks. 

“I’m gonna go see if she’s there where we found her last time,” Aelon said, crossing the river. 

Eweniel followed after him. Rodrick followed the two to avoid being left behind. 

As the three looked through the other side of the river, Eweniel stepped behind Aelon while he continued looking through the bushes and the rocks. 

"Aelon. What happened the day when you found Greeny with Samuel?" Eweniel broke the silence. 

"What do you mean?" Aelon glanced at her while continuing searching. 

"The day you and Samuel disappeared to the other side of the river, and we heard that strange roar," Eweniel answered. "You said you and Samuel tripped on a boar, and it got angry, but I do not know any boar that could roar like that," she added, her tone tinged with skepticism.

"It was a boar. I saw it with my two own eyes," Aelon replied. 

"Yeah, right," Eweniel said back. She then stepped in front of him and stopped him in his tracks. "Aelon. If you have a big secret– you're trying to hide. It's okay. You can tell me," she said, trying to sound assuring. 

"I'm.. not hiding a secret," Aelon nearly wavered. "I'm serious. It was a boar that tripped me. It got really angry, so that's why it sounded like that," Aelon said, walking around her to continue searching for the turtle. 

"Well! I feel like you're trying to hide something!" Eweniel stomped after him. 

"Like what?" Aelon asked. 

"I don't know!" Eweniel replied as they wandered along the riverside. "I will find out eventually," she said. 

"Hey! I see Greeny!" Rodrick pointed at a small turtle, leisuring upon a rock where the sun shone the brightest. 

"How did she get this far from the village?" Aelon pondered as they stared at the sunbathing turtle. 

The three then heard a loud snap across the forest. 

"What was that?" Rodrick asked, frightened by the sound. They then heard sounds that sounded like grunting and groaning. They were quiet but audible.

"Now that kinda sounds like a boar," Eweniel stated while Aelon stood frozen, feeling his heart pound against his chest in fear. He recognized those sounds. He knew them well enough to know that they were not from a boar. 

"You think so?" Rodrick asked. 

"Yeah... Like what else could make oinks and grunts like that?" Eweniel asked while Aelon had a hard time breathing. His mind returned to those hours spent in the cell, surrounded by the very creatures who made those exact sounds. 

"That's not a boar," Aelon finally found the strength to speak. He then looked at his friends with fear in his eyes. 

"Hide..." 

"What?" his two friends looked at him weirdly. 

"Hide!" Aelon pulled them both to hide beneath the nearby bushes. 

The children hid beneath the bushes just when an orc appeared in their view, its sharp toes clicking against the ground and emitting a foul odor. Eweniel gasped but slapped her hand against her mouth. Rodrick was frozen in his place as the three stared at the orc before them. Aelon covered his nose to avoid smelling the awful scent of the orc's feet. 

The orc looked around before stepping away, its scaly legs disappearing from the children’s view. 

Aelon felt his hands shake with cold. Eweniel kept her mouth shut with her hand to avoid making any noise, and Rodrick began quietly crying from fear. "What is that?" he whispered, trying to stifle his sniffles. 

Aelon leaned out to take a look at the orc but quickly pulled back when he saw another orc approaching the first one.

"There's two!" he nearly squealed, and Rodrick started sobbing. 

"What should we do?" Eweniel asked as Aelon tried to hear what the orcs were saying. 

"Did you find anything?" the second orc asked with his raspy voice. 

"No. I found no signs of any winged dragons around here," the first orc replied. 

Aelon felt his heart drop. The orcs were looking for Falconer and Baleria. There was no way they were talking about different dragons. 

The second orc lets out a frustrated groan. 

"Why do we even keep coming here?!" he yelled, "It is already challenging to avoid getting killed by those damn humans, and we still find nothing about these damn winged dragons!" he vents out. 

"How do we know they even exist?!" he yelled. 

"Apparently, they attacked a hidden fort and killed one of those savage vampires," the first orc shrugged his shoulders. 

Aelon's hands grew even colder after hearing that. There now was no doubt they were looking for both you and him. He needed to tell you about this.

"And that is just a rumor as well, like who knows if elves had something to do with it," the second orc stated. 

"Well, I have something that is not a rumor," the first orc grinned and leaned closer to his friend, "I smelled three human cubs moments ago," he revealed. The second orc looked at him with a mix of confusion and surprise.

"Humancubs? In here?" the second orc questioned like he couldn’t believe his eyes. The first orc nodded with a sinister smile. "Their scent is still here, and one of them is a big one," he said, and the second orc then cackled in excitement. 

Aelon and Eweniel glanced at Rodrick, who stared like death was in front of him. A silent squeal left him as he shut his mouth and continued sobbing even harder. 

"Well... I do not see why we can't take a break and eat a very well-earned snack," the second orc said to himself. "Look around!" he commanded, and the two then separated, disappearing from Aelon's sight. 

Eweniel leaned toward Aelon. 

"Ae! What should we do? We wandered too far from the village," she whispered. 

Aelon tried to think of a way to bring his friends safely back to the village. They needed to cross the river and run, but the orcs were too close. He and Eweniel could possibly outrun them, but Rodrick was not a fast runner –he would get caught before he could even reach the end of the forest.

Aelon shook his head, trying to think of a solution, but nothing that wouldn’t end up risking Eweniel’s or Rodrick’s life came to mind. 

He could call upon Falconer. He could already sense his dragon’s anxiety through the bond, but despite his desire to have his dragon for help. He controlled his emotions and tried to soothe his dragon. 

Aelon didn't know if he should risk it since the orcs were looking for his dragon especially, and his friends were around. What if one of the orcs got away? What if Rodrick and Eweniel couldn't keep the secret, and you two would be forced to move away?

Falconer was itching to fly out and rescue him, but Aelon forced his mind to remain calm and told his dragon to stay put through the bond. 

“Aelon!” Eweniel caught his attention. “They’re gonna find us if we stay here too long,” she whispered. 

Aelon then had a small idea and looked at his friends. 

“We could try crossing the river on the north side of the forest. We just have to get far away from the orcs so we can run back to the village,” Aelon said. 

“Okay, that sounds good,” Eweniel agreed. 

"Please just take us out of here," Rodrick ushered. 

"Okay." Aelon looked around the river for the orcs. He then began crawling through the bushes, his friends following behind. Crawling through the dirt and leaves, Aelon silently hoped you would sense something was wrong and come looking for him before it was too late.

Taglist: @natchayaphorn​ @kimnamnu@thatrandomidiot182 @springfountain

[zivazivc]

Yesterday I watched Help! I'm A Fish and I had a good time! Chuck's seriousness and Fly's upbeat attitude made me think of Eddy M and Ravin respectively.

That movie is SO bizarre. I showed it to a friend a couple of weeks ago, so I watched it twice now, and we both kept screaming at all the emotional whiplash scenes jfksjhfdjh

I think I see what you mean about Eddy M and Ravin being like Chuck and Fly. Especially in the context of your headcanon where they had a rough childhood. They're not much like those characters in my version though.

Eddy M is a rude moody teen who is very matter-of-fact and headstrong - he's a 13-year-old who thinks he knows everything, and he will let you know that with sassy remarks and comebacks.

Ravin is definitely upbeat and more positive but I wouldn't call her Eddy's opposite because she is equally a smartass. She is just very jokey, self-aware nerd face emoji about it. She'll go "errrrmm, ACTually ☝" whenever she thinks she's right about something or when she just wants to annoy you. That's a good descriptor actually; instead of being rude the normal teenage way like Eddy, she is annoying - intentionally. It's a bit and she fully commits.

Dunno how to better describe them lol

Since I know you'll appreciate, I'm sharing a small chunk of my "Floyd runs into the techno troll and their kids" wip under the cut. It's been sitting and collecting dust for a while now because I have no idea how to finish it, but you can get a bit of an idea of what I imagine these two kids being like:

(for context, Floyd is helping Bruce at the bar and guess who happens to visit? And Floyd goes to take an order from them because he is a dumbass and needs too long to realize who he's talking to... The techno troll and Floyd have a private talk, it goes poorly and the techno troll lets him know that he doesn't want him to meet the kids or let them know who he is, and then Floyd hides behind the bar going full blown emo mode... (Also this is an unfinished draft so there might be some klunky parts, idk, I don't feel like editing it rn but I'm also very self conscious about my writing in general so I need to point this out 😬))

. . .

Floyd felt an intense misery wash over him. He really was a fuck up.

He stared at his feet for who knows how long (Maybe he had begun to dissociate?) when the faint sound of light feet stopping nearby made him look up.

Couldn’t this family gathering end already???

He nearly choked on his saliva while standing up in a desperate attempt to find something to busy himself with and not deal with this.

“Uh, h-hi, random kids I don’t know.”

He gave up at the sight of the empty sink with nothing to wash, and carefully looked at the two kids like they were going to bite him from any sudden movements. He probably shouldn’t stare too hard but that was what he ended up doing while taking in their appearance.

“How dumb do you think we are?” the boy—Edwin said with the distinct attitude and mannerism of a brash teen.

“From one to ten,” Ravin added quickly after and much more cheerily, while she pulled a small journal from her hair. She clicked her gel pen and pressed it against the paper in preparation. “Be honest.”

Floyd was a bit dumbfounded to be honest. “... What?” He straightened a little where he was still leaning against the sink and not facing them fully.

“Is on the slower side…” Ravin said out loud while scribbling the words down.

“We have to do this fast,” Edwin explained impatiently and with uncanny matter-of-fact-ness. “Dads think we went to the bathroom.”

“Uh… Do what fast?”

Ravin spoke up while staring at her journal: “How would you describe yourself?”

“What’s your favorite song?” asked Edwin.

"Would you say your hair is white and pink or white and red? And since when is it white? Dad never mentioned that."

“Do you think the words ‘drug addict hobo’ accurately describe you?”

“What’s better, hardcore or emo?”

“I told you it’s not emo!”

"Do you have any health history we should be aware of?" 

“If you were a bug, what type of bug would you be?

"Do we have any other siblings?" 

Floyd’s eyes grew wide from the onslaught of questions. “Whoa, whoa, slow down!” Then reluctantly he added “One at a time, please.” without even realizing he invited them into a conversation.

Edwin looked at his sister. “What was the first one?”

“How would you describe yourself? Three words.”

Floyd didn’t like the first question.

He should probably try thinking of positives…

“Uh…”

“Uhm…”

Panic.

“I’m a good singer. Well, I used to be…”

“That’s your personality?" Edwin deadpanned. "Singing?”

“I’ll just write down: bad self-image, bad under pressure, bad at understanding questions.”

"Those aren't personality traits either, sis."

"Fine! Unconfident, anti-equanimous, intelligently-impaired. There."

"Next question?"

“What’s your favorite song?”

Floyd's mouth was hanging open. He was pretty sure he just got called an insecure some-big-word idiot.

"Hello? We have a time limit. What's your favorite song?" 

“...T-That’s a hard question," he fumbled for words, "there’s so many songs, it would be impossible to choose.”

Ravin looked into her notepad with a sigh and jotted down: “Indecisive. Gives flakey vibes.”

Floyd didn’t know how to respond to that either. Would it be weird if he got upset? Because he was definitely offended. But then again maybe he deserved this. Like some kind of delayed karma.

“If you were a bug, what type of bug would you be?”

Floyd thought about it, trying to come up with some type of direct answer at least for this question. “Hmm… A grig, maybe?”

Edwin made a face. “What the heck is a grig?”

Ravin seemed to have an idea. She wrote down: “An old soul. Depressed.”

“That’s the opposite of a grig!”

“Have you heard of reverse self-awareness?”

“No…?”

“Probably ‘cause I just made it up. But the term kinda suits you." She scratched her scalp with the dull end of her pen."I think?”

Floyd, still feeling absolutely lost in the whole situation, continued to stare mutely.

Edwin was watching him judgingly. "You think there's any awareness there at all?"

Ravin gave a vague hum before getting back on track. "What do you do for a living?" 

"Rae, don't waste our time with stupid questions. It's obvious what he does."

Maybe, Floyd thought, he could finally impress them with something. "I'm a musician, actually."

"Yeah okay, music boy." Edwin replied without missing a beat. "Is the apron a new fashion accessory I don't know about?" 

Floyd’s mouth hung open (if it ever even stopped hanging). These kids were savage…

[fate-of-gravity]

Chapter 1: The Arrival

Summary: The Potter manor receives a surprise visit half way through the summer

Word count: 3.5k

A/N: This is my first chapter posting on tumblr, I hope you enjoy :)

Fate of Gravity- Series Masterlist

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Sirius Black would like to say that he had been minding his own business when it happened. But he couldn’t say that without lying.

He had been setting up his newest and simply genius, in his mind, prank to pull on his best friend. It was so perfect that Sirius had to almost shove his fist in his mouth to keep his laughter at bay.

It was all planned out in his mind, and perhaps in his journal that he kept hidden under his mattress, away from prying eyes.

Sirius would lead his best friend, James Potter, down to the living room and claim he had something to show him. He already had a pile of the homework resting on the table that he was yet to complete before break ended, to act like he was to show James some of it for whatever reason.

Then as soon as James sat down on the same cushion of the couch that he always sat on, a puff of bright pink smoke- which was really just enchanted muggle hair dye- would fly into James’s hair, perfectly-and quite possibly permanently-dying his hair bright, neon pink.

The plan was also perfect due to the fact that Fleamont and Euphemia Potter weren’t home that day because of some important Ministry of Magic business. Fleamont would have laughed and Mia would have scolded Sirius, meanwhile trying to hide her laughter herself, had they been there.

Sirius stood back, putting his hands on his hips, and admired his work, even though he was hardly able to tell that it was there. That was the whole point though.

With one final nod, the prankster turned on his heel to walk upstairs and put his acting skills to the test, when he was stopped by a sound coming from the fireplace.

James had recently taken Sirius to see a muggle movie about aliens, and ever since, any small noise would make the boy tense up with fear of the slimy green creatures.

Sirius lifted his wand up and prepared to set whatever alien dared step foot in the household on fire.

Then, much to Sirius’s surprise, a girl fell out of the fireplace and landed on the red and gray patterned rug with a groan.

The black haired boy was too shocked to move, or speak for that matter. So instead of doing either of those, he was stuck in a position with his wand raised and pointed at the girl.

You groggily opened your eyes, but as soon as you saw an unfamiliar boy standing above you with his wand pointing directly at your chest, you jumped up, grabbed your own wand and pointing it at him in return.

“Who the bloody hell are you?” You demanded with a hard look on your face that told Sirius that you could- and would- fire a hex at him if need be.

Now that you was standing he was able to get a good look at you. You were about his age and wore muggle clothes consisting of a flannel on top of a muggle band shirt and jeans, confusing Sirius as to the fact that you had a wand, but were wearing muggle clothing. He got a closer look at your shirt and saw that it was Queen, a band that he actually loved very much.

“I could ask you the same question!” Sirius shot back, his wand now raised not only from shock, but in defense, knowing full well that he nor James were expecting any visitors today, let alone someone that he didn’t even know.

The two seemed to had a mini stare-down for about a moment before, at the same exact time, shouting, “James! There’s a stranger in your living room!” The two looked at each other with wide eyes, not quite knowing what to say or do at that moment.

The thundering footsteps of none other than James Potter could be heard throughout every room of the huge manor, making the walls vibrate. He raced down the stairs, most likely taking three at a time, the two couldn’t help but think. And their thoughts were proven correct when they heard a crash and thump in the direction of the staircase, causing both you and the strange boy to wince, but not wavering your attentions enough to check up on him because you both still had your wands pointed at each other.

“I’m good!” James called, jumping back up before running into the living room where he had heard the yelling come from.

He raced into the room to the sight of two people he knew very well looking like they were about to fight one another. Both of said peoples' heads snapped in James’s direction as he came bounding in.

At first James was confused, and then he finally comprehended that the you were in his living room, and without another thought, he let out a high pitched squeal and sprinted across the room, tackling you to the floor in a hug, pushing Sirius out of the way and knocking him off his feet in the process.

“Monkey!” He squealed loudly again, still hugging you tightly against his chest, referring to the nickname he had given you as a kid.

You just laughed and hugged him back with the same amount of force, “Hey there, Jamie.” You greeted with a goofy grin. Then the smile dropped as you groaned, “Now get off me, you fat oaf.” You had a little glint in your eye that told James that you were only joking about the name calling, though.

James huffed, “I’m not fat… or an oaf!” He defended as he got off of you before reaching out a hand and helping you up.

A very confused Sirius was still in the middle of the living room from where James pushed him, sitting there like an idiot. He decided to make his presence remembered, clearing his throat.

The two people looked over to see that the boy who they had forgotten about was in fact still there.

James’s face broke out into a grin and he quickly threw his arm over the your shoulder, “Y/n M/n Potter, meet Sirius Orion Black, my best friend. Sirius Orion Black, meet Y/n M/n Potter, my cousin.”

Sirius’s mouth flew open as he stood up, “Your what?”

“Cousin.” James told him slowly as if talking to a toddler, “You know? When your aunt or uncle has a child. And these are the ones that you DON’T marry… which is something your family is yet to learn.”

Sirius- who’s mouth had been opening and closing like a fish- snapped his mouth shut and glared at James a little and mumbled, sulking back, “That was uncalled for.”

Your mouth dropped in shock and you turned towards Sirius, who was scowling at the floor with his arms crossed, “Your family marries their own cousins?” To say you were horrified would be an understatement.

James let out a little yelp and clamped his hands over your ears and loudly whispered to Sirius, “She’s too young to hear inappropriate stuff like that!”

You rolled your eyes and elbowed him in the stomach, making him let go of your form and doubled over in pain, “I’m literally only six months younger than you!”

“That still makes me older!” James retorted childishly.

Sirius dramatically gasped and put a hand over his heart, getting over his initial shock, “I cannot believe you never told me that you had an attractive cousin!” And with that he flopped back onto the couch.

The boy had forgotten though, about the prank he had set up moments before, and the pink smoke flew up into the air and into his shoulder length black hair, turning it pink immediately.

The cousins hadn’t been paying any attention to what was happening with him though, as they both had their eyebrows furrowed in confusion, looking at the ground.

“You never told him that you had a cousin?” You asked James, a bewildered expression taking over your features.

“Attractive?” James asked at the same time, equally as confused as his younger cousin.

Both of the cousins looked up at the same time to question Sirius further about those two different things when they stopped short when they saw the state that the tall boy was in.

Sirius was frantically clawing at his head, trying to get the pink out of his precious hair, and all the Potter’s could do was take one look at the struggling boy, and double over laughing.

“P-pads…” James tried to get out in between laughter, “Y-you really think that I d-didn’t know you were trying to prank me?”

Sirius stopped clawing at his head and frowned, “How did you know?”

James shook his head, sobering up a little bit, but still chuckling slightly, “You really aren’t the brightest, are you, Padfoot?” Said boy just continued to pout, “First, you insisted on going to a muggle store. So I brought you, but the only thing that you bought was pink hair dye! When I asked you about it, you said that it was for your little sister!” Sirius tilted his head, confused about what was wrong with his fool proof story, “Pads! You don’t have a sister!”

Sirius made an ‘o’ shape with his mouth as he came to the realization of the flaw in his supposedly flawless plan.

He pouted even more and slumped back against the couch with crossed arms, causing the two people standing in front of him to chuckle slightly.

James turned to you, “What are you doing here, n/n?” He asked curiously, “Don’t get me wrong, I’m thrilled that you are, but I just didn’t know you were coming.”

You grinned, “Well, Jamie, if you must know, mum and dad thought it would be good for me to stop by. Auntie and uncle said to make it a surprise even though they are working today, and they agreed that it would be good for me to stay over for the rest of the summer while my parents are in Egypt, seeing as I’m going to be attending your school this fall.” You finished off your big speech with dramatic jazz hands.

James broke out into the largest grin upon hearing the news and yet out a small whoop of excitement, pulling you into a hug, spinning you around and then started cheering and chanting, “You’re coming to Hogwarts! You’re coming to Hogwarts! You’re coming to Hogwarts! You’re… coming to Hogwarts?” He was now confused, “What about Beaubotox?”

You smiled at your cousin sheepishly, “I may or may not have been involved in a prank that may or may not have resulted in half of the school being on fire while the other half was submerged in water…Said prank may or may not have resulted in me getting expelled.”

James and Sirius just blinked at you once, twice, looked at each other and then burst out laughing.

They laughed so hard that their bellies started to hurt. “You’re going to fit right in.” Sirius was finally snicker out after he sobered up enough.

This caused you to grin. You opened your mouth to say something else, but then the fireplace erupted in green flames, making you pause, and out walked Euphemia and Fleamont Potter, both sporting grins to rival their sons.

“Well if it isn’t my favorite niece!” Fleamont exclaimed excitedly, rushing forward and bringing you into a hug, spinning you around like James had done only moments before.

You giggled, hugging him back tightly, “I’m your only niece, Uncle Monty.”

Fleamont set you down with a slight shake of his head, “No, that can’t be right.” He said with furrowed eyebrows, thinking that his niece was playing a joke on him. “Annabeth is also my niece!”

Mia’s eyebrows shot up, “Our neighbor, Mrs. Chase’s granddaughter? That Annabeth?”

“That girl we’ve seen, like, once in our lives?” James butted in, becoming as confused as everyone else.

Fleamont paused for a moment, “I do have another niece, I’m sure of it!”

Euphemia shook her head at her husbands antics at and then looked at you with a soft smile, “Hello dear.” She greeted before pulling you into a warm and welcoming hug.

“Hey, auntie.” You said, gladly returning the gesture.

Mia gently squeezed you one more time before stepping back and looking you over, “Oh, you’ve gotten so beautiful.” She beamed.

You giggled a little and shook your head slightly, “You say that everytime you see me, auntie.” You reminded her.

The older woman gave a firm head nod, “Becuase it’s true every time.”

James crossed his arms with a huff and pouted, “Just be happy she says stuff like that to you.” He informed his cousin, “Whenever she sees me during break it’s always,” he started to mimic his mums voice, “‘James stop slouching.’ and ‘James why is your hair still messy’ or ‘James, for the love of Merlin, put your shirt back on!’ or ‘James, your feet smell ghastly!’”

His mother turned to him with a raised eyebrow, “Oh, I’m sorry James, would you like to be told that you look beautiful?” She mocked playfully.

Said boy put his hands on his hips and struck a pose with his hip jutting out, “Yes, actually. I would like that very much.” He dramatically turned his head to the side and stuck up his nose.

His mother rolled her eyes and his father covered up a chuckle with a cough while his best friend and cousin just out right laughed.

Sirius continued laughing as he stood up and walked over to James, swinging an arm over his shoulder, “You look beautiful, Prongsie.”

James flipped his invisible long hair over his shoulder, “I know.”

Mia rolled her eyes playfully at the two boys before throwing an equally as playful wink to you, “Come on, let’s get you settled in and leave them to talk about who’s nail polish is prettier.”

“Mine, obviously.” Sirius said without hesitation.

James whipped around to glare at him, “Oh, really?”

The two girls exited the room, leaving the screaming boys behind them with giggles.

The older woman led her niece halfway up the stairs before you stopped, “Oh, I forgot my luggage in the living room, Auntie.”

Mia let out a little laugh and waved her wand, and the cases flew from the living room and through the halls right into your hands, catching them with a little, ‘umph’ at the sudden force of the objects.

There was a thud from the room the boys were in followed by a little cry of pain and the evil laughter of Fleamont and Sirius, letting the girls know that James had been resting on the suitcases when Mia had summoned them.

Euphemia led you to one of the many guest rooms in the manor and turned to you with a guilty look upon arrival, “Your room may or may not have been rented out to Sirius because it’s closest to James’s room so your uncle and I don’t have to hear them try and yell across the house to one another anymore.”

You shrugged a little, “When’s he gonna be gone?”

Mia quieted and turned serious, “He’s going to be staying with us for a while.”

Sensing her aunt's tone, you didn’t push it, instead just nodded and coming to terms with the idea of a stranger living in your room.

When you were younger, before you and James were sent to separate schools, you would stay over so often that it really seemed silly that you wouldn’t have a room to yourself.

After being left alone to unpack, you decided to wander the halls of the big house for a little bit, something you always used to do whenever you were bored, then you would go downstairs to socialize once you felt like it.

You walked up the stairs to the attic, but didn’t stay there, instead you walked straight to the back of the room and pushed open a window that was already slightly open, and began to climb onto the roof.

When you were young and needed to get away from people, you would run into the attic and then go out the window, leaving it only slightly open, and have time to yourself where no one could find you.

What you didn’t expect though, was to be greeted by the sight of your cousin's best friend sitting on the roof as soon as you stepped out.

You let out a little yelp of surprise and stumbled back out of shock, clearly not having noticed the signs that someone else would be up there.

Before you could fall off the roof though, you felt a large hand wrap around your small arm and yank you back into an upright position.

You breathed out a sigh of relief and looked up at Sirius who was already staring down at you with wide and panicked eyes.

He quickly put on a calm and collected mask over it though, “Careful, you could’ve fallen there.”

You huffed at his sort of rude tone, crossing your arms and rolling your eyes, “I wouldn’t have fallen.” You grumbled matter-of-factly.

He put his hands up in mock surrender, backing away, “Sure, sure, whatever you say.” Then under his breath he muttered, “Well aren’t you just a ray of sunshine.”

“I heard that.” You snapped, kind of angry that someone had found your hiding spot.

“What are you doing up here anyway?” He ignored your tone.

“I could be asking you the same question.”

You didn’t know why you was being so hostile towards the boy, he hadn’t persay done anything.

Sure he was living in your room, but that wasn’t his fault.

He also was now your best friend's so-called best friend.

So you maybe- just a tiny bit- held a grudge for the boy you hadn’t even met half an hour ago.

You hadn’t even realized that you had averted your gaze until you caught yourself staring at his beat up converse.

Your eyes quickly flickered up to find stormy grey ones looking down at you in a studying and calculating manor.

Without another word, you watched as he climbed down the roof and slipped through the window without sparing you a second glance, with a feeling in the pit of your stomach couldn’t quite place.

—<>—

After Sirius had appeared back downstairs, you miraculously did a few moments after.

Nobody questioned where either of you had been, honestly not even realizing that much that you had left.

Dinner was spent with you and Sirius sending each other curious glances when you thought the other was looking, not taking Mia Potter into account, who had caught on and was smirking at her plate.

Afterwards, everyone retired to the living room for a wizarding chess bracket.

You and James played while everyone else sat back and watched them interact with a smile on their faces.

As the two cousins laughed loudly at something James said, Mia turned on the couch to face Sirius next to her.

“We raised them like siblings,” She explained to him, “Neither of them ever had any of their own, so they were there to kind of fill that void.”

Her head turned back to the two with a look so full of love and adoration that Sirius could hardly believe it was real, “They were both devastated at being separated when they went to school. But Y/n’s mother insisted on her going to Beaubotox because that’s where she went… and look how that turned out.”

Sirius nodded, not being able to help himself as he stared at the girl. Mia noticed and she let out a chuckle.

“What?” Sirius turned to her in confusion.

She just shook her head with a small, amused smile, “Nothing, nothing.”

The two sat in silence for a moment, looking over the scene in front of them, before the dark haired boy turned back to the Potter woman, “Mia… I can leave soon if you would like. Get out of your family's way.”

The woman’s head turned to him sharply, a stern look on her face, “You will do no such thing, Sirius Black. You are staying here because you are family and you most certainly are not in our way.”

Sirius felt his heart swell and tears almost welled up in his eyes on the spot, “Thank you.” He choked out, gratitude shining through his face.

—<>—

James was laying on his back on his bed, facing the ceiling with his hands crossed over his stomach, deep in thought.

Sirius was laying on the ground, on his stomach, flipping through the Daily Prophet, kicking his legs back and forth as he hummed a muggle song.

“Hey, Pads?” James called out, breaking the comfortable silence that they had been sitting in for about half an hour.

You were with Mia and Fleamont downstairs, using the floo network to tell your parents that you had gotten to the house okay.

Sirius stopped kicking his legs and looked up at the bed, “Yeah?”

“What did you mean when you called n/n attractive?”

This caused the black haired boy to tense up and hesitate, he had realized after the words left his mouth what he had said earlier and regretted them immediately, and in front of James nonetheless.

He knew how his best friend was around those he loved, he was protective of them and would do anything for any of them, and he figured that you were no exception.

“Oh, that?” Sirius finally managed to get the words off his lips, “Oh, I was just being friendly, Prongs.”

James allowed silence to fall over the two for another moment as he thought through the answer he received before slowly nodding, “Okay.”

Sirius almost let out a breath of relief, happy that James bought it for now. In the future he would have to be careful, because no matter how pretty the girl was, James was still his best friend and he would never do something like that to him.

James spoke up again, “Besides… if anything I’m the attractive cousin.”

[stregoniconiconii]

I was thinking about the head canon of Steve being Italian, through his mom because Harrington is like super Irish, and I have some ideas

first off, I don’t think Steve can speak Italian super fluently. I think his mom was first generation and she worked really hard to sound American and so she didn’t really speak it at home. Steve only heard Italian when his mom was on a long distance phone call with her family back home or when she got homesick and listened to an Italian language radio station. Steve loved hanging out with his mom though, and he loved listening in on her conversations because I know my boy is a little gossip, so he picked up on understanding the language fairly well, but never really got the hang of speaking it

until, when he was like 10 years old and they went to Italy for the summer. his nonna, who he had literally only talked to on the phone, was dying and she wanted her daughter to come back home. she and Steve go together, his dad comes for a couple weeks but then has to go back to work, and they’re there for months, fully immersed. he even spends a month at school with his cousins, who he gets along with pretty well. that’s not to say it was easy at first, definitely not

Steve probably spent the first few weeks there quiet as a mouse just listening to everyone speak. everyone thought he was just a dumb American, chastising his mother for not teaching him their language, teasing him because they thought he couldn’t understand. but they all get surprised when he speaks up when one of his aunts is going in on his mom and he calls her out in actually pretty good Italian. after that, he gets included more, his cousins discover that he’s actually pretty funny besides being American. he still gets teased because his accent needs some serious work, but by the time his Nonna dies and his dad is flying down for the funeral and to take them back to America, he feels pretty damn Italian

he half hopes that he and his mom could stay here, where he has family he actually gets a long with, but his dad’s kinda mad at how native they’ve gone while he’s been gone. now he’s the odd one out and he doesn’t like it. he brings them back to hawkins and issues an Italian ban because he doesn't like not knowing what his wife and son are talking about. and then news about the affair breaks out

see, while Steve and his mom were in Italy, hanging out with family, looking after a sick old lady, and preparing for a funeral, mr harrington was getting dirty with his secretary. so now his mom is paranoid that it will happen again if he gets out of her sights so she ends up going with him on a bunch of business trips. leaving poor Steve alone. and without the practice Steve’s Italian skills go downhill until high school and he starts taking a second language

not many people choose to take Italian, more going for French or Spanish, so it’s a small class. he thought it would be easy for him, since he already knew Italian even if he was out of practice, but this wasn’t the regional Italian his mom and her family spoke, this was The Official Italian Language. so it’s not as easy as he thought it would be but he actually manages to pick it up pretty quickly. yes, Italian is one of his best classes. yes, his accent is still pretty bad

anyway I don't think Steve keeps it a secret that he’s actually pretty good at Italian but not many people know. most of the kids in hawkins are barely passing Spanish or French, the few that are good at languages don’t think of him as someone good at languages so they don’t bother him. it’s not until robin claims she can speak Italian fluently that it even comes up

basically I think Steve and robin gossip in Italian bc they love that only they know what they’re saying. Steve teaches her some of the regional dialect he grew up on, she goes holy shit this means that we can hit up Sicily on our Europe trip and Steve’s very happy about that (because yay best friends trip and also he can visit his family again!)

[wildlyglittering]

What would you write for "Hello, General"?

So I asked for people to give me a made up title and I would reply with what I would write for Nessian.

Please read below!

Hello, General

This would be a very brief one shot (not that I write brief) told from Cassian’s POV and set in Prythian as we know it.

There is a war – as par for the course at this point – and Rhys has sent the Inner Circle and associated assortment of fae on various missions. Some are diplomatic (Mor, Nesta, Elain), others are information gathering (Amren, Azriel, Feyre), and Cassian is sent to do what he does best – lead the now conjoined armies of the Illyrian camps.

It’s been a long winter and Cassian is exhausted. He’s been making strategic plans, drafting reinforcements, and training and re-training those under his command. It’s been months since he’s felt like he’s even a functioning individual as his days move from frost bitten, cold, hard grounds into blizzard filled, cold, hard nights with only a fire to keep him warm.

He’s in contact with his friends and allies, parchments being sent here, there, and everywhere and Rhys has visited at the camp a few times to oversee progress and provide Cassian with some company.

The company Cassian longs for the most however is Nesta’s and their communication has gotten more infrequent and less detailed the longer the war has gone on.

Both are clearly busy and tired and what were once pages upon pages of each other’s days, conversations they had with others, gossip about their frenemies, and scandalously comprehensive reams of erotic depictions of their bedroom activities has now turned into paragraphs or just sentences to re-affirm to the other that yes, they are still alive, and that they love and miss the other.

After a recent and gruelling week of training including Cassian dealing with some obnoxious upstarts who are furious that female Illyrians have a place amongst the males, Cassian enters his tent to find a piece of parchment on the table.

His hopes are high but finds that the parchment is one of his sent to Nesta a week before and the new word scribed on the front merely says ‘undelivered.’

Cassian panics, thinking that Nesta has been kidnapped or worse. Without sending any messages ahead, he flies non-stop to the House of Wind to find out directly from Rhys what is happening, ready to pay any price that is requested.

When he arrives Rhys states that to his knowledge Nesta is well, having sent Feyre a message that very morning.

Cassian is now confused and slightly sulky – why is Nesta sending Feyre’s messages but his are coming back undelivered? He flies back to the camps, his brain over analysing every previous message he has sent, wondering if he has offended Nesta. He also thinks if there is anything he missed – did Nesta tell him she was going to another Court or to the continent?

He arrives back at the camp, barking out demands for others to step up in his absence as he now prepares himself to fly over the world to find Nesta. Cassian steps into his tent and there, seated at the table with her travel items already unpacked and ready to stay for what looks like a while is Nesta.

She smiles at him as he rushes over and greets him with, “Hello, General.”