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gucciwins · 3 years

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Trouble Follows

Harry’s a firefighter, he believes in accidents not coincidences but that changes when he meets Y/N multiples times at different calls.

Word count: 8128

A/N: Hello friends, hope you’re well. life has been eventful since the start of the year but when is it not. first story of 2021 and i’m excited to share it. i started this story a few months back (yes chicago fire was an inspiration). firefighter!harry is dear and near to my heart. i do hope you love it and let me know you thoughts. happy reading

It's the start of a twenty-four-hour shift.

A day that feels like it may never end until it does.

Harry's in the common room with the crew. He's got his black coffee, his first of many for the day, and the morning's paper that Lincoln dropped on the table. There isn't anything impressive; he grabs a pen he sees on the table and begins to do the crossword puzzle.

10 letters

1. down - crater creator.

Harry's already lost, and it is only the first one.

He's not good at them, not one bit. Sarah always ends up finishing the crosswords.

The chatter is loud, and as he slides the newspaper down to Mitch, who will silently hand it over to Sarah. Harry likes the morning buzz; everyone catches up from not seeing each other for forty-eight hours. Although, many do see each other, seeing as they are roommates. Harry used to live with Mitch until he moved in with Sarah last fall after two years of dating. Mitch told him there might be a wedding in the future or, as Sarah likes to joke about all the time, an elopement.

"Morning, H.," Wilson says, patting his shoulder, making his way to the empty coffee awaiting him. Harry knows they are seconds away from an outburst. Wilson can be just a tad bit dramatic.

The alarms begin to ring as he lifts up the empty pot. "Truck 51, Squad 3, 62, Battalion 25, Ambulance 62 House fire at 5082 North Bell Ave."

"Looks like we were saved by the bell." Lincoln laughs as they all rush out to get dressed and on the truck as quick as they can.

Harry and Mitch are out in seconds, never one to lollygag. The rest are quick to follow, slipping on their pants, and the coat quickly follows. Harry looks around, making sure everyone is accounted for before jumping into his spot in the passenger seat, Wilson at the wheel pulling out of the station with the siren blaring.

He watches the city go by as they rush to their destination. There is a lot heard of trees they pass by, and he knows they are passing the city park that is always filled with laughter and Harry knows they will be arriving soon, and as always, he prepares for the worst but hopes for the best.

They arrive in under ten minutes. It's a nice residential area, one that doesn't make frequent calls. The fire seems under control, not growing, but there is a lot of smoke. "Frankie, Lincoln, make sure these people stay back."

"You got it, Lieutenant," Lincoln responds quickly, getting to work, Frankie following right behind him.

Harry spots an old woman being held up by a young female his age. The old woman looks distraught by the fire, and Harry knows this must be the owner.

"Ma'am, I'm Lieutenant Styles. Can you tell me what happened?" He approaches, voice firm, ready to take in the needed information.

"She inhaled a lot of smoke. Can your paramedic check her out?" Harry's eyes shift to the woman. She's beautiful; she's in grey sweats and an oversized sweater that has what he assumes is Pascal from Tangled coming out of the pocket. Harry shakes his thoughts away, focusing back on her catching her last words. "Still in shock."

"Sarah," Harry calls out once, and she is quick to rush over. They set the old woman on the stretcher and quickly put an oxygen mask over her.

"Miss, may you tell me what you know. That way, we figure out the best way to get this fire out."

She's quick to nod. "Of course, I was on my way over to check on Mrs. Waters like I do every morning, but this time was different. Earl, her next-door neighbor, was outside calling 9-1-1. He told me he didn't see her run out. I rushed in to see her standing on the top steps of her staircase, staring into the burning room. She was coughing a lot, and I rushed her out. She thinks she knocked the candle down in her knitting room when she went down for her tea." She says all that in one breath. "The room is the first door on the left up the stairs. It's the back of the house."

Harry nods at her before turning away. "Mitch, you and Wilson take the hose through the side gate. Spray the room; it's a candle fire. Once it's out, let me know, so we can go in for a sweep through."

"Yes, Lieutenant."

Harry sees Mrs. Waters has begun to calm down and has the color back in her face. He knows they are going to take her down to Med to do a run-through. Harry turns around to speak with the young woman, but he doesn't see her anymore.

He's about to ask Sarah when he sees Chief Rivera run into a sprint and catches her in his arms. He didn't notice she began to walk away from him and over to the other pedestrians to assure them everything was alright. Harry yells for Esme, worried for the woman.

"I'm good." She barely makes out. "Think the adrenaline has run its course. That's all. I didn't even inhale that much smoke."

Chief Rivera ignores her protests and sets her on the side of the ambulance. "Please check her out." He directs his orders to Esme.

"Thanks for saving me, Mr. Chief. That would have led to a nasty concussion." Pascal sweater answers.

Chief gives her a quick nod before walking away.

"Miss, what's your name," Esme asks her. Putting an oxygen mask over her face and resting it on her nose and mouth. She takes a deep breath before answering.

"Y/N."

Beautiful name. It suits her.

"Do your lungs hurt or your chest?"

"No, do you think I can ride with Mrs. Waters?" Y/N interrupts Esme with an apologetic smile. "It's just that her granddaughter is her last living relative and lives an hour away. Her husband passed away four months ago. I'm all she's got."

"We've got room for you," Sarah responds, always having a soft spot even though you wouldn't know from her tough exterior.

Harry walks away, not hearing the rest of the conversation but feeling good that both are okay. He thinks she's crazy for rushing into a burning building with nothing on her to protect her, but he does this for a living, so who is he to judge?

Mitch gives him the all-clear.

Harry heads into the building with Frankie and Lincoln, no more thoughts of the beautiful girl he met.

He's got a job to do, and he has to do it right. They start in the living room before entering the kitchen, seeing dirty dishes in the sink and a plate of what looks like fresh banana bread. He's going to be left with that craving. Harry leads the way up, careful with the stairs just in case of collapse, seeing how black the once blue carpet has turned. There was a lot of damage, and it pains him to see such a well-loved house be affected this way.

"All clear!" He shouts, making sure Lincoln and Frankie head down before him.

Once back outside, Harry slips off his helmet. He nods over to Chief Rivera, who gives him a curt nod in return. He turns around to address the crew, "Pack it up." Everyone scatters to gather and put away their tools as quickly as they can.

All in a day's work, time to head back and hope each call is as successful as this one.

Harry might not tell anyone, but the woman Y/N stays on his mind all day.

Sitting in his office, getting paperwork done is not something he enjoys. He is good at it, though.

He's always thorough, a perfectionist.

It's essential because the Battalion Chief isn't kind at all, and even the smallest mistake on a report can send him on a full-on rage rampage. Thankfully, it's been a few months, and he is on his fourth wife stuck in the honeymoon phase, at least for the time being, giving them all some much-needed peace.

Harry has an open-door policy; he closes it; he feels he loses that connection to his friends. They may be coworkers, but after everything they have been through, he sees them as family, and one does not close the door on family.

It is also because he gets to hear all that's going on. Sarah and Mitch were going to visit his family in the upcoming month, and Sarah seemed far more excited than Mitch. Wilson had a new date lined up for the weekend to make up for the next few days he has to spend at work. Esme was talking Frankie's ear off about how she was knitting a new blanket for her niece and how each patch would be a different color with a different meaning.

He likes how well they all get on. Squad might keep their distance, but everyone does get along. It's not common in firehouses as he's heard from others. The hazing gets taken too far and ever a few male chauvinists. Don't worry, that isn't the one thing the Battalion Chief does not accept; he respects and loves women just doesn't like others' happiness.

Harry's proud of how far he has come, but most of the family he has become a part of. He knows how lucky he is. It also means he will never take it for granted.

They are his home away from home. Seeing as his family is an ocean away.

"Harry."

He looks up, seeing Mitch staring at him. "How can I help you, Mitchell?"

Mitch rolls his eyes, causing Harry to smirk. "Was wondering what you were doing after shift today?"

"Asking me on a date? Think Sarah might get jealous." Harry smirks at his best friend.

"It was her idea."

Harry smirks is replaced with a sincere smile. "Told you she has a soft spot for me."

"Dinner at my place? Have a few drinks, watch one of your favorite romantic comedies." Mitch suggests not at all like him to do so.

Harry was about to say yes when the alarm started ringing. "Truck 51, Squad 3, Battalion 25, Ambulance 62." A brief pause, "School fire 1260 West Adams."

"That's the small elementary school up the street," Harry tells him, shooting up from his chair and out the door to get in the protective gear.

Harry knows this fire won't be easy, but he's with the best of the best and knows it'll be alright. He knows they are approaching, and he always likes to go over how he wants things to be handled before getting out, but more significant fires need more focus. He also knows they all fall under the Chief's orders today and not his.

"Mitch and Wilson go in together. You know how it goes. Get everyone to head out, and our priority is getting the fire out" Harry looks back, getting a silent nod. "Candidate, how are you feeling?"

"Ready, Lieutenant." She answers confidently.

Harry gives her a sharp look, knowing he's got nothing to worry about her. Frankie is one of the best firefighters truck 51 has ever had. "Good, you'll be going in with Lincoln."

"What about you, Lieutenant?" Lincoln can't help but ask.

"I'm sure the Chief is going in. I'm going to stick with him." Harry knows his Chief well, and nothing will stop him from helping out.

Wilson parks right out front, and Harry can't see any smoke coming out. At least, not yet.

Harry is met with who he assumes is the principal; he didn't have time for an introduction. The woman explained there was a science lab gone wrong and that the sprinklers did not go off. They rushed everyone out quickly, following the fire drill procedures.

These kids are panicked but are being pointed towards an exit, and not until after the fire is controlled can they make sure everyone is counted for. Harry knows they have to work swiftly and make sure no one gets left inside.

A man with glasses and a smoked black salmon shirt approached them, and Harry assumed by the looks of it he was the teacher that was part of the fire. "The bunsen burner caught fire. I don't know why. We've done this experiment for years without accidents."

He eyes a few students wet and can assume the sprinklers went off much later than they would have liked. It means the fire has lessened, and it was safer to go in.

"We'll take care of it." He assures them.

"Get two hose lines in there." Chief Rivera directs right away. "Truck, Squad search, and evacuate. Let's go."

Everyone moves and begins to make their way into the burning building. It's a small two-story building; he sees frightened first graders to fifth graders watching him as he makes his way inside.

"Keep moving," Chief Rivera says to teachers ushering students out.

Harry knows Sarah and Esme have many people to look after and hope that more help can get there sooner rather than later.

As he makes his way inside, he feels the alarm ringing in his ears as he follows close behind Chief. It's something he's used to but doesn't mean he likes it.

"Fire department, call out," Harry shouts. He scans each room, not seeing anything and continuing on.

They make way to where the fire is, and it's growing.

Harry can see a bunsen burner tipped on its side. He takes a step towards the classroom and see's another tipped over but with a tear in it. It seems that one ripped and caught a spark setting the fire off.

"Chief, we need to get the gas off, or it'll only continue to grow." Harry looks over at Jorge, both waiting for the order to go in.

Chief speaks into his radio, asking where the gas shut off is located. Harry hears Florence recite back what a male voice told him to the Chief.

"Gas tank is in the backroom; it should shut it off. Be careful." His voice gruff.

"You got it."

Jorge leads, and Harry follows behind right on his heel. It only grows hotter as they make their way inside. He hugs the right side of the room, making sure to avoid the growing fire.

Jorge reaches to shut it when Harry notices a second one. "Jorge, there's two. We need to shut them at the same time." Harry hurries over. "Ready, turn!"

It clicks shut, and they let out a deep breath. Jorge pats Harry on the shoulder in acknowledgment.

"Let's head out. They need to hose this down."

Harry nods and follows him out, moving much faster this time. As quick as he was in the building, he now stands outside of it. He slips his helmet off, wanting to lose some pressure.

"Hey Chief, the fire's out." Lincoln comes out to inform.

Chief responds with a grunt, turning to the principal, holding a binder with lots of overflowing papers.

"What's the count?" Everyone holds their breath, waiting for the news. Squad prepared to go in if necessary.

"Everyone Is accounted for, Chief." She responds, a shaky smile on her face.

"Good."

Harry lets out the breath he was holding. There was no real injury today, and he is thankful for being burnt in a fire is not easy, and he knows that from experience.

His crew had begun to clean up already, and he was about to join when he felt a light tap on his shoulder. He turns to see a familiar woman but waits for her to speak; after all, she approached him.

"Hello, Lieutenant." She greets with a small smile. "There was no injury right. I checked over my students but want to know everyone else is safe."

"Injuries there were none unless you count Lincoln tripping into the truck on the way here." Harry jokes, not sure at all what made him break his seriousness.

She laughs. It's music to his ears.

He would enjoy being able to hear it again.

"Our team got everyone oxygen that needed it. The students and teachers are looking fine, and I assume parents have been informed of the incident."

"Called and picked up as soon as you clear out."

Harry stares at her for another second; she's wearing a lilac knitted sweater with bell-bottom jeans. He chuckles looks like he isn't the only one still wearing them out and about.

"You're from the North Bell fire," Harry tells her. He acts like her name slipped his mind, but that is the farthest thing from the truth. Her face and her name have not left his mind since that day. It's as if it has been imprinted.

"Yeah, Mrs. Waters. Good memory." She nods at him, obviously impressed. "She's good, staying with her granddaughter for the time being."

"That's nice to hear." Harry knows their conversation is coming to an end.

"Well, thank you for lessening my concern. Have a good day, Lieutenant Styles." She flashes him a broad smile, her eyes shining bright, keeping him entranced even after she walks away from him.

Harry watches her walk away, how she kneels down to talk to a young girl who was crying. Wipes her tears away with a handkerchief, she pulled out of her pocket. Little girl eventually laughs; it rings loud throughout the mess that way today; a child's laugh uplifting in a moment of darkness. It truly is the small things in life that should be appreciated.

His thoughts drift back to Y/N; what are the odds he runs into her just one week later.

She's pretty; he's not going to lie. He'd ask her on a date if he were to meet her at a bar, but no, never on the job.

If it's happened twice, maybe he's lucky enough for a third.

Although he hopes under better circumstances.

Harry had gone unbothered for over two hours, which is too long in the firehouse. He got the majority of his work done and decided to leave his office to find out what everyone was up to.

He was not surprised to see them in the common room, but he was shocked to see them all munching on cookies and not just any kind. They were snickerdoodle cookies, and they smelled divine like his mother had just taken them out of the oven with his watchful gaze eyeing every single one.

"Those smell amazing." Harry was quick to say eagerly, wanting someone to hand him one or five.

"Home-baked," Sarah calls out through a mouth full of cookies she was chewing.

Harry laughs because he knew that already. He reaches into the box in front of Mitch but is met with a slap on his wrist, and Harry quickly pulls back.

"Oi, that's not very kind of you, Mitchie."

Harry crosses his arms over his chest, but Frankie walks by a smaller box in hand, 'Lieutenant' written on top in elegant writing, and shoves it into his chest. He grabs it quickly, not wanting it to fall.

"Who brought them?" Harry asks because whoever baked something so heavily deserves all the praise, and he is more than ready to give it.

He opens his box and bites into the still-warm cookie. He holds back a moan, not up for the others teasing, but it truly is the best cookie he has ever eaten.

"It was the woman from the school fire, the one that approached you in the end," Sarah tells him, her hand reaches for a new cookie.

Harry frowns; she was here and missed her. No one thought to call him to come out.

If he is honest, he hasn't been able to get her off his mind. Two short interactions, and it is as if she has put him under a spell. He lets out a low chuckle at the thought.

He always tells others he has no time for a relationship, but the truth is he hopes for love. He just doesn't want it to be one night of passion. He wants endless nights, where it ends cuddling with the same person with constant whispers of I love you.

He's a hopeless romantic.

Harry would happily marry this woman. Although trouble does seem to follow her.

It might not be something he needs in life, especially in his line of work.

Golden's.

A safe haven.

A place that feels like home, where firefighters, paramedics, and doctors come for a drink and a good time. The perfect place to come drink away your sorrows with a shoulder to cry on in every corner—the ideal place to celebrate significant accomplishments with the friends that have slowly become your family.

Esme, a paramedic, and Jorge, a firefighter work at Firehouse 19 with Harry; they are the ones who opened up Golden's three years ago. Esme wanted a place to make creative drinks, and Jorge, well, he loved crunching numbers in his spare time, leading to this bar's birth.

Hanging on the walls are pictures of all their family and friends. Harry is proud to be displayed on the wall multiple times, and he loves each photo taken. His favorite being one that is hung right under what he calls his table. It's a photo of all of Firehouse 19 after he was made Lieutenant. Everyone in their uniforms dressed to the nines. Chief Rivera had the biggest smile on his face, as did Harry. Everyone around him had cheered for him, and they then all headed to Golden's for a celebration where his mother and sister were among his firehouse family. That picture always brings a smile to his face.

Harry sits there at his table with Mitch, his best friend, who he met entering the academy from the moment Harry said hello, and Mitch grunted in return he hasn't been able to shake Harry off, but they wouldn't have it any other way.

Harry has been told he has a lively personality, always conversing with those around him; Mitch was mellow, a wallflower. Mitch came to life around Sarah; Harry joked how he had heart eyes around her. Sarah is a force to be reckoned with. The kindest smile but the highest walls, she dropped them down without a second thought for Mitch, seeing as he was the one to make conversation with her when she was transferred from Station 25. Harry admires her strength and quick thinking. She had a dream of being a doctor but is happy as a paramedic for the time being.

The fourth seat at their table always remains empty, open to anyone wanting to sit down for a conversation, but never permanent. Harry knows as well as Mitch that it's being saved. Saved for that certain someone to walk into his life.

He's left wondering if he's finally met her.

Harry spots Esme free and gets up from his table to sit at the bar asking for two beers knowing Mitch will join him. He doesn't try to start a conversation, thoroughly enjoying the buzz of conversation around him and the comfort of Mitch next to him.

It's been three days since the high school fire and two days since the cookies, and all he can think about is Y/N. If he had to guess she was a teacher, he forgot to ask too focused on the fire yet too stunned to ask her why she was there. She had been quick to have everyone checked for and was most relieved when he confirmed everyone was counted for.

Harry was sure he'd never see her again, that she'd cross his path, and that was it. No, instead, he sees her less than a week later, but he made no move to ask her out even though he knows she's interested. At least it seems like she was. She didn't have to approach him that second time or send him his own box of cookies. If he were to meet her now, he wouldn't think twice about asking her out but meeting her out while on the job, he wouldn't let her be a distraction.

"What's got you thinking so hard?" Mitch says, interrupting his internal debate.

Harry takes a drink of his beer. "Nothing." He sighs. "At least I think it's nothing."

"That woman from the high school fire." Mitch states.

Harry chuckles; nothing gets past him. "Yeah, don't know why. She seems to invade my thoughts, and all I know is her name and that accidents happen around her."

"Maybe she's a firebug," Mitch suggests.

"She's not an arsonist." Harry nudges Mitch. "Don't joke about that. Her aura's too bright. You saw how she was with the students and teachers."

Mitch laughs. "Aura, what are you talking about?"

"Oii, leave me alone. I told you I got into meditating and have been doing lots of reading. Gem sent me this book about seeing and feeling it. Your aura gets brighter around Sarah."

Mitch's cheeks go red about to respond when his phone rings. "Speaking of." Harry sips his beer as Mitch takes his phone out.

"I'm taking this outside; she's checking in for the night. Letting me know she's alright." Mitch says, finishing off his beer. Sarah was out visiting family for the weekend, and Mitch couldn't join, so Harry was more than happy to keep him company.

Harry raises his hands defensively. "I didn't say anything."

His eyes follow Mitch outside, watching him hold the door open, phone to his ear when he sees her walk in. She's dressed in skin-tight jeans, hugging her hips nicely. A white silk top and completing the look is a black leather jacket. Harry shits in his seat, she looks fantastic, but he might need a shot or two to get the courage to go over to her.

Harry downs the two tequila shots Jorge placed in front of him, turning to look back at her when he sees two guys with her. It seems they know her well, standing so close to her. One has a hand on her back, and Harry's confidence deflates.

She's got a boyfriend, of course, she does.

The men are good looking Harry hates to admit, he knows he's attractive, but those two might give him a run for his money. They tower over her, like guards protecting a queen. She walks forward, both men trailing behind. She does a quick scan of the room as she approaches the bar, and smirk forms on her face as her eyes meet him for a brief second.

His view is quickly blocked when a female embraces her in a hug. She pulls back, and Harry is surprised to see that the friend is Frankie.

Frankie is the candidate he welcomed onto his truck six months ago. Frankie is remarkable, goes after what she wants, and gets along well with everyone. Chief Rivera was impressed from the start, and that's hard to do.

Harry sits there watching, wondering which one could be her boyfriend. The blonde has a good chance he has his arm thrown over her shoulder casually, but she doesn't lean into him. That makes him smile. Brings back the small confidence he has left. The group laughs at something the redhead said, and she reaches up to kiss the redhead's cheek so it could be him. Harry wants them to come this way and have Frankie introduce them, but they stay far enough where he can't hear their conversation, only her sweet laugh. He looks away but turns once more when he sees movement in the corner of his eye. It's Frankie wrapping her arms around redhead's neck and kissing him on the lips. The blonde has his eyes on someone across the bar, and just like that, Harry can breathe again. Y/N lifts her gaze and catches him staring; she sends him a sly wink before whispering something in Frankie's ear.

No boyfriend. That's good; it means Harry might have a shot after all.

He hears Frankie pass behind him, meaning she also passed by. He lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

He startles when he hears a voice next to him order an old-fashioned. He knows it's her.

"Hey there, Lieutenant" She's leaning against the bar smiling at him. "Frankie was telling me you've never had a woman as a candidate." She says, taking a step forward into his space. Frankie comes behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "She acts all tough, but between you and me, it's all an act." She raises her drink to take a sip. "Just like you."

"Sorry about her Harry, we don't take her out enough to know how to act around others." Frankie jokes as she walks off with her three beers.

"Ouch." Y/N laughs as she watches Frankie walk away from them.

"You're very forward, firebug." Harry comments

She shrugs. "So I've been told." Y/N pauses acknowledging the nickname. "Did you call me an arsonist?"

Harry's eyes go wide. How does she know the term? "No, of course not. I know you didn't start those fires, but two run-ins around a fire the nickname is kind of perfect."

It really is. Harry hopes she agrees.

"Alright, Styles, I'll accept the term of endearment. As long as I'm the only one."

"Wouldn't want anyone else," Harry answers truthfully.

She looks him up and down clearly, not hiding she's checking him out. Harry feels confident in his outfit for the evening. He's wearing a vintage 'Enjoy Health, Eat Your Honey' shirt tucked into black flared corduroy jeans. Her gaze stays on his forearms, admiring the tattoos. Her gaze lingers on the mermaid as if she wants to raise her finger and trace around it.

"So, you've been hiding all that under roughly 45 pounds of gear give or take the weight of items." She tuts, shaking her head. "What a shame."

"Not like I can do my job without the gear, makes running into a burning building easier."

"I suppose." Y/N smirks, a glimmer in her eye. "How fast do you have to put on the gear?"

He narrows his eyes at her, not knowing where she's going with this. "Under two minutes. Gets faster as time goes by." He answers cautiously.

"Pretty sure, I could undress you in less than that. Leave you in your boxers, or do you prefer briefs." She takes a sip of her whiskey. "Maybe you don't like using it, heard they could be constricting."

Harry can't help the blush that takes over his cheeks; he's never met someone so forward. He wants to get to know her, and by the looks of it, she feels the same way.

They stare at each other for a few seconds taking in the other's face. Harry notices the smallest detail, like the small scar close to her eyebrow. He catches the peaking of a tattoo from under her jacket. He's really intrigued now.

"It's Harry." He says, bringing his hand out to shake, knowing he's never appropriately introduced himself like she has.

She grabs it and leans in close. "Personally, I like Lieutenant." He shifts slowly, but then she gestures down without breaking eye contact. "Think you do as well."

She finishes her drink and sets it back down. She places a twenty on the counter to cover the cost of her drink and his. "I'll see you around, Lieutenant Harry."

She's out of sight in the next few seconds.

He wants her, more than for just a night. Harry wants to be the reason she laughs, the reason she smiles but most importantly, the one she gets to love. He has it bad. He's never met someone so forward and direct with their flirting; he really loved the attention.

Now that he knows Frankie has a connection to her, Harry knows he'll see her soon. Who knows when that is. He'll be counting the seconds until then.

Mitch walks in and sits next to Harry, pocketing his phone. "Miss anything interesting?"

Harry throws his head back and groans. "You have no idea."

Friday's are never the same. Harry feels like he can never prepare for these days. They had just gotten back from a call; it was a kitchen stove fire gone wrong. It was an in and out; a fire extinguisher was really all they needed. The family was very thankful. He was just glad they were smart enough to turn the stove off.

Harry had just grabbed a seat when the alarm began to ring. He knows everyone is holding back a groan, but it's their job. Sometimes there are either too many breaks or not enough.

"Pin in accident, Columbus Drive Bridge."

Harry is quick to dress, finishing first. He taps the side of the truck, "Let's go, let's go!" Everyone picks up the speed, and they are out in seconds. Wilson is not light on the honking, knowing an accident on the bridge is never good.

"Alright, candidate, remember to walk with a purpose, don't run." Harry begins.

Frankie nods. "Access the details before you act." She finishes off for him.

"Good."

The police are on the scene keeping back the curious group of people that have gathered. Harry shakes his head. All people love having a front-row view of accidents.

The accident looks bad, two cars: one car seems abandoned, a door left wide open. It seems to him that was who caused the accident, good things the police can run their plates. In the second car, the passenger seat door is jammed, there is glass everywhere. There is one person in the driver's seat, a blanket over them.

Harry approaches the vehicle seeing Wilson already assessing the passenger and how best to take them out.

"Female, mid 20's," Wilson calls out.

Harry sees her door is jammed in. "We need to pry open her door before getting her out. The hit was all on the passenger side, but please be careful we don't know her injuries."

Lincoln gets to work, Harry stands to the side, waiting to cut the driver's belt and out of the car.

"She had a blanket over her. The glass missed her face, but one got her abdomen. She's a funny one, taking the pain like a champ. She said she's a nurse so knows it didn't hit an organ." Sarah tells him, as she spoke to her from the back window wanting to best prepare for when they get her on the stretcher.

"Ma'am, how you doing? We are doing our best to get you out." Harry tells her, seeing the door being removed, quickly moving in to remove her seatbelt, which saved her life.

"Thought we were on a first-name basis, Lieutenant." She speaks quietly, voice trembly.

He steps back in shock, seeing her remove the blanket from her face. Her face clean of injury, Stevie Nicks' shirt red and ripped. She's hurt and laughing, but he feels like his heart wants to jump out of his throat.

It's Y/N.

There's blood, and she's injured, but she's okay.

She's fine.

She's alive.

He never wants to see her like this again.

"Took years to find this exact shirt. Got it for a steal at $10." She groans jokingly. "Do you have a remedy to wash out blood?"

"In fact, I do; how about I help you with it once you get these stitches?" Harry tells her, hoping to keep the conversation going, keeps her calm as it is doing for him.

"Asking me on a date on the job. Not very professional." She teases him.

"How do I know you didn't cause this accident just to see me?" He banters back.

He has her in his arms, taking her out slowly. She has very few injuries; he's carrying her to the stretcher when he hears her cries.

"It wasn't my fault you have to know." She cries out. "It was green, it really was, I promise. There are traffic cameras here, so check. I waited a few seconds then went and next thing I know I have the blanket over me. I've got quick reflects." She smiles slightly at the thought. "A nice lady told me help was on the way." Harry wipes her tears away. "I was on my way to the grocery store. Annie, my neighbor, wanted brownies, and I told her I would run to the store to get the items. She's going to be so upset."

"Not your fault, I believe you. Everyone here does." His heart is breaking. She doesn't deserve to feel this, especially when the other driver got away scratch-free, it seems.

"I'm the safest driver out there. I've never gotten a ticket, not even a parking one. When I took my driving test, I passed with zero errors. They said it hasn't happened in years." She groans as they load her into the ambulance.

"I believe you. Your insurance must love you." He comments, getting a small laugh out of her.

"Tell Frankie to send me flowers. I don't like coming home to no flowers."

Esme slams the door shut, and off they go.

He knows Frankie saw and heard; he knows Chief is with her. As good as one is doing their job, once family is involved, it's quick to lose one's focus. Harry knows he has to check on her once they are back at the station. He's going to encourage her to see her friend, not having to worry about the end of the shift because when it comes to family, that is their priority.

Harry knows Mitch is watching him like a hawk, waiting for him to give him any kind of sign he's not okay, but he knows better. He's not allowed to break down in front of his crew. Not something he lets himself do.

Instead, he does what he knows best. He gives orders.

"Pack up back to the station."

Just like that, they begin to load up the truck, everything in their rightful place, but all he can think about is Y/N and if she truly is going to be okay.

Harry is pacing outside her door.

Yes, he got her address. He had to know how she was doing. Frankie was kind enough to give it to him, not without a few warnings. As in if he did anything to upset her, she knew how to handle a halligan. Harry dares not to cross her. He, after all, has only honorable intentions for Y/N.

He takes a deep breath before raising his hand and knocking three times. He quickly takes a step back, not wanting to be too close when she opens the door if she opens the door.

It swings open, and there she stands in an oversized t-shirt and grey joggers. "I have been wondering when you would show." She grins at him.

Harry's eyes widened. "You knew I was coming?"

She nods. "Of course, Frankie had to make sure it was okay to give my address to a man I've only had one proper conversation with."

"It was two, really." Harry jokes.

"Two then." She smiles down at her feet, starting to feel bashful under his watchful gaze. That is when her eyes catch sight of the gift in his hands.

"You brought me flowers." She exclaims, reaching for the pink peonies, and he quickly extends his hand for her to take them.

"Wasn't sure your favorite. These reminded me of you and how beautiful you are." He shares, feeling his cheeks heat up, running a hand on the back of his neck, wanting her to say something and save himself from embarrassment.

"Thank you." She sniffs them. "I've always loved peonies, don't think I've ever been gifted them before." She moves to the side and gestures him to come in.

"Would you like something to drink? I would have offered you food, but I didn't cook tonight; Frankie dropped off Chinese for one." She gives him a small smile to make up for it.

"It's no problem; after the day you had, my well being is not of your concern," Harry tells her, happy to accept the water she handed him.

"See, you're wrong, Styles." Harry frowns, meeting her eyes as she continues on. "You have a dangerous job, so I feel I do have a right to worry about you."

"Fair enough."

Harry sips his water, and she does the same. He assumes she's trying to collect her thoughts. That is what he's trying to do.

He loses his train of thought as he begins to take in the yellow-painted cabinets; the hue holds a softness that allows them to stretch from floor to ceiling without feeling overwhelming. Brown granite countertops and hardwood floors temper the yellow; the bronze hardware marries the two colors. He's never felt so calm and safe in a kitchen.

Back to his thinking, a good reason to tell her why he came to visit her because indeed she'll have to ask.

It could be his crush on her, a growing infatuation. At this point, it might be like already.

One goal before he leaves her house is well-- to have asked her on a date.

Harry's train of thought is broken as she begins to speak.

"I want to apologize for breaking down in your arms. That wasn't right of me."

Harry scoots closer, placing a ringed hand on top of hers, resting on the counter; this causes her to look up at him. "Hey firebug, no need to apologize. It was a tough situation. The crew said you handled it really well." He smiles and gives her hand a squeeze. "I'm happy you're okay."

She nods and lets his words hang in the air for a minute. "I made brownies, and Annie helped me. She did the heavy lifting today. Do you want some?"

Harry knows she changed topics because she felt overwhelmed, and he was happy to follow her lead. "I'd love to try these brownies. If they were as good as your cookies, then I might just eat them all."

A huge grin takes over her face at his confession; he accomplished exactly what he was looking for.

"You loved the cookies?" She asks.

"Loved honestly might have shed a tear when I ate the last one. Your cookies are what I assume they give to eat in heaven." He jokes but very much meaning each word.

"Thank you, I'll be sure to take more down to the station soon." Y/N blushes looking away from Harry's piercing gaze.

"You know, I didn't even ask you how you're doing." Harry laughs, forgetting the reason he came over.

She laughs with him. "I did as well; if you'd ask me, it feels like a regular date night."

Y/N doesn't blush at her words, but Harry sure does. "Date night, huh." She nods. "I'd be up for more nights like this."

"Good to know."

They stare at each other for a few seconds taking in each other's smile and how easy it is together.

"Back to your original question, I'm doing good. Only needed five stitches and should heal up nicely." She puts her hand over her injury as if remembering the pain.

"Well, I'm glad you're well. I'm a phone call away if you ever need anything."

She all but glows at his words. "I'll keep that in mind."

After a while, Harry helps her move over to the couch, wanting her to be comfortable. He fixes her pillows a few times, wanting her to not feel any kind of pain. Y/N just basks in the attention; it's not everyday she has a firefighter fawning over her.

Time with Y/N seems to fly by because the next time his eyes catch sight of the time, it's nearing nine pm. He can tell she's knackered, but he and neither she sees an end in their conversation. It just flows so easy and who are they to try to stop it.

Harry is learning about why she moved to the city and how she has an interview next week for the pediatrics department at Med. Also, she was at the school because she volunteers weekly; Miss Lucy is a teacher Y/N went to uni with and likes doing fun activities with the nine-year-old.

Harry truly doesn't understand how she has so much to give to others, but he's glad to be receiving some of it as well. He hopes to give her back half of what she gives to others.

"I've always seemed to find myself in trouble. Never the cause of it, but it's always around. I always thought it was me, and it seems to be true." Y/N shares with him. She has struggled with growing up; she may have many friends, but she doesn't stay in a place long enough to make herself feel at home, but so far, it has been different.

Harry sees how much her words hurt to say. He leans over and grabs her hand. He squeezes it tightly before intertwining their fingers together. He really loves holding her hand, and he hopes she continues to allow him to do so.

"Where angels go, trouble follows." Harry breathes out, never breaking eye contact with her. It takes every fiber in his body not to reach over and plant his lips on hers. He so badly wants her to believe his words because he knows he does.

She truly is an angel from above, and he is lucky enough to be welcomed into her life.

Y/N feels her cheeks heat up but never breaks eye contact with Harry.

They fall silent, basking in what seems to be their final moments together for the night.

"I should really get going, poppet. Got to let you get your rest." She nods and lets him help her up so she can walk him to the door.

"Do you believe in faith?" She asks as they stand outside the door.

He shrugs. "I never believed in all of that stuff, but in a matter of a few weeks, I've run into you four times, and I wouldn't leave that up to luck. I thank whatever brought us together and that they'll keep us together."

"I like that a lot."

He kisses her cheek softly. "As soon as those stitches are out, will you let me take you out on a date?"

"I'd prefer something sooner, but I can wait." She teases.

Harry nods; he feels like he does a lot of blushing around her. He really enjoys how she makes him feel.

"I'll check in tomorrow." He promises.

"Just so you know, if I need anything, I won't be calling for firehouse 51." He stops. "I'll be calling this guy that has a thing for me that runs into burning buildings for a living."

"Any time of the day, I promise I'll answer the call, poppet."

He had just put his seatbelt on when his phone began to ring. Harry picks it up, never breaking eye contact with her.

"Lieutenant, I need some help. See, I was in an accident today, and I know it might seem a little strange, maybe a bit forward." She bits her lip, not yet breaking the intense eye contact. "I could really use a cuddle to feel better. Do you know anyone that can help out with that?"

Harry shakes his head at her but nonetheless shoots her a dimpled smile. He jumps out of his car and strolls up to her—phone in hand, beautiful smile on her face.

"I would be honored." He leans in and connects his lips to her cheek; he lets it linger for a few seconds before pulling away. "Now, let's get you in bed. I heard from a little birdie you don't kiss before a first date, so the sooner you heal, the better."

Y/N lets out a small groan at Frankie. "Maybe I can make an exception."

Harry doesn't hide the surprise on his face at her words. "You certainly will make life more interesting."

She giggles as she leads him to her room, Harry following closely behind.

Harry knows they were meant to walk into each other's life. The feelings he is starting to feel for her something he has never felt before.

Call him cliche, but a never-ending spark has been ignited.

thank you so much for reading! i love you

come chat trouble follows with me

taglist: @bigspoonstyles @taintedwonder @sunflowersupremacy

#harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfic #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles au #harry styles blurb #harry styles ou #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry fluff #harry styles angst #firefighter!harry #my writing

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puppypeter · 3 years

Text

✨ All fics are complete! ✨

He Loves Me Cause I’m Cute, He Thinks I’m Pretty Funny | 2588 words 📱

He watches it back one more time after it posts, checking for typos in his subtitles and captions, and has to laugh again.

Steve fucking Rogers? His brain thought he could pull Captain America, literal superhero and America’s favorite sweetheart?

“Hello I’m a 35 year old amputee living in New York and I think that I could get Steve Rogers.”

the one where bucky posts a tiktok and steve is utterly smitten.

Summer Slipped Us Underneath Her Tongue | 10712 words 🧳

Bucky is a tour guide who enjoys sharing the rich history and culture of each city they pass through with a bunch of early-20's college students who just want to know the cheapest place to get drunk.

Except for Steve, who asks Bucky for a personal tour around his hometown.

The rest is, as they say, history.

You Make My Heart Skip A Beet | 3853 words 🧑🏼‍🍳

“I made soda bread.” Steve lets out the 6’2” supersoldier equivalent of a squeak. “Oh, I love soda bread,” he says eagerly, rolling forward on the balls of his feet like he does when he gets excited. “My mom used to make it all the time when I was growing up.” The tips of Barnes’s ears turn red, and he mutters something that sounds suspiciously like, “I know.”

Ollie Meets Bagel | 5517 words 🥯

He was a skater boy, Steve said let's get bagels, boy.

Steve wants to start doing this twenty-first century thing properly. He gets help in the form of skateboarding, skateboarders, bagels, and Sam Wilson.

Taxi | 5113 words 🚕

Bucky Barnes was, he hoped, a good taxi driver.

He's so good, he actually tries to return lost property that ends up left in his car and... well. It has some unexpected consequences involving a National Icon.

Enough said.

Leg Day | 12157 words 🏋️‍♂️

“So talk to him,” Sam says.

“I can’t,” Bucky groans. “I can’t, Sam, I. He just.” He fluffs his hair up and stares at Sam, distraught. “I want him to bench press me.”

“Okay, so it’s serious,” Sam interprets. “Got it."

(Or: The one where Sam is Bucky's long-suffering roommate, Bucky is a hot mess of a millennial, and Hot Steve spends far too much time on the Lat Pull-Down machine.)

Love In Aisle Four | 2127 words 🛍️

When Bucky needs to swing by the supermarket after a long, hard day of work, the last thing he expects is to meet a cute grocery clerk named Steve…

Coming Up Easy | 45515 words ✍🏻

“Listen, I was just thinking,” Steve says, his face open, eyebrows raised in a tentatively hopeful expression. “Why don’t you come stay at my place for a while? I’ve got an office that I barely use, and a change of scenery might do you good, right? Help you beat that writer’s block?” With a crooked smile, he adds, “I promise I’m not a serial killer.”

While Bucky would normally crack a joke about how that’s exactly what a serial killer would say, right now, all he can do is blink at Steve in surprise, heart tripping over itself in his chest. Steve wants him to come and stay at his place. In Massachusetts. Just the two of them.

"Oh," Bucky croaks. "I- Wow."

“I mean, no pressure,” Steve says hastily. “Totally fine if you don’t wanna. I just thought I’d offer, in case it might help, y’know?”

“Yeah.” Bucky ignores the little voice in his head that sounds an awful lot Nat and Becca, telling him he’s setting himself up for heartbreak. “I mean, if you’re sure, that would be amazing.”

Anywhere The Wind Blows | 8845 words 👨‍🚒🎖️

After a catastrophic fire that shakes him to his core, Steve Rogers quits his job as a Brooklyn firefighter and relocates to a cabin in the remote Canadian wilderness, wanting quiet and solitude and to maybe never have to speak to another human being ever again. He gets his wish, more or less, until a recently injured Bucky Barnes is discharged from the Army and rents the cabin next door.

The Safer Course | 7918 words | Part 1 of Won’t You Be My Neighbor 🏡

When Steve moves to the suburbs in 2033, he intends to retire from superhero life.

He does not intend to fall in love with his pain-in-the-ass neighbor.

Every Year I Have You | 7064 words | Part 2 of Won’t You Be My Neighbor 🏡

Steve set the bar pretty high, as birthday presents go.

Bucky is determined to outdo him when July 4th comes around.

Beneath The Mistletoe | 21203 words 🎄

Bucky had a bet with his sister that if he didn’t have a boyfriend to bring home for Christmas by the time he was 25, he had to give her $200 and go blonde for a year. But now he's 25, it’s nearing December, and not only is Bucky as single as ever, but he’s also running low on cash. He doesn’t exactly want to bleach his hair, either.

At least Steve is willing to upgrade their relationship from best friends to fake boyfriends.

The Settler | 52203 words 🍞

“What do you want to do?”

Steve pauses and looks at them.

What he wants is to stay with them. He doesn't have any family left, they all died before he even joined the war and became... this. Captain America turned whatever he is now. But Natasha and Sam have become his family over the years. Not just because they're on the run together, fugitives and vigilantes, but way before that too.

He doesn't want to leave that.

But he knows that, realistically, he can't stay with them and they can't stay with him.

So he looks at them with a smile and lies. “I don't know.”

OR; In which Steve retires and finally finds a place to call home.

You Can’t Put Your Arms Around A Memory | 1148 words 🐈

"Alright, Bucky," Steve slows his steps, watches his neighbour stop at the bottom of the next flight of stairs. There's a canvas bag in his hand that Steve didn't notice earlier, cream coloured with the figure of a sleeping, black cat painted on it. "Have a good day."

He thinks Bucky's cheeks pink up a bit right then and there, but Steve can't tell. He's too distracted by his pounding, foolish heart, by the way Bucky smiles bashfully, and ducks his head. The way he seems like he wants to stay.

To Believe In Tomorrow | 3959 words 👨🏻‍🌾

Bucky's mornings at the community garden get a little more interesting when the new guy shows up.

Maybe This Christmas | 24873 words | Part 1 of Maybe ❄️

Bucky’s not going home for Christmas. But it’s fine. He’s spending Christmas alone in his apartment, but it’s cool. He’s not feeling up to seeing his family after his accident anyway, plus he has to work. He’s totally fine with it. But then he runs into Steve, literally, and suddenly his Christmas isn’t looking so empty after all.

-----

Hurrying was a bad idea. Bucky’s foot hits a patch of ice and slides out from under him in what would have been a comical cartoon banana-peel-like trip, if it wasn’t happening to him, and he braces himself to hit the ground. This is going to hurt.

“Fuck,” Bucky screeches, but as he lands on his back, it’s not the cold hard concrete he expected, but a solid mass beneath him. Oh god, Bucky thinks as he realises he smacked into the person behind him and took them down with him.

Maybe This Year (Will Be Better Than Last) | 133868 words | Part 2 of Maybe ❄️

Last year, Bucky Barnes met Steve Rogers. Well actually, he slipped and fell on him. What followed was the best Christmas either of them had ever had. But what happens when Christmas is over and life returns to normal? What happens after the Christmas miracle?

-----

Bucky should have known. He did know. When things seem too good to be true, they usually are. And Steve is the best thing that has happened to him in a long time, possibly ever, so of course it couldn’t last.

Maybe This Time (I Hope I Get The Chance To Say Goodbye) | 34561 words | Part 3 of Maybe ❄️

Steve and Bucky Barnes are happily married. They've made it through some hard times and come out stronger and happier, together. Then Steve gets called on to come out of retirement for the most important mission of his life and everything changes. Everything.

-----

“Have yourself a merry little Christmas…” Steve starts singing along softly, and Bucky chuckles, before leaning his head onto Steve’s shoulder, always happy when he’s in Steve’s arms.

“From now on, our troubles will be miles away…” Bucky joins in.

Dancing round their living room, just as in love as ever, their troubles seem light-years away, if not non-existent.

Sadly, they’re closer than they think.

The Unexpected Gift | 9504 words | Part 1 of When Winter Comes 🐕

Steve Rogers is fine.

After ending a long-term relationship with Sam Wilson, Steve moves back to New York. He's tired and lonely but depressed? No. At least, that's what he thinks.

From the window of his apartment, he watches a dark-haired man and his service dog sitting in the park, wondering what his story is.

The Winter Storm | 2218 words | Part 2 of When Winter Comes 🐕

"If I could give you one thing in life, I would give you the ability you see yourself through my eyes, only then would you realize how special you are to me."

After Bucky and Steve confessed their feelings for each other, life has its own twisted way to challenge the most profound love.

One January Night | 4213 words | Part 3 of When Winter Comes 🐕

Before going back to work, Steve Rogers still has things to learn: 1- Depression is a bitch and the battle against it isn't an easy one. 2- Dating a person with disabilities comes with its share of challenges.

Bucky Barnes Has His Shit Together (And Other Lies He Tells Himself) | 14159 words 🔒

You’d think a guy who owns one of the most successful bakeries in Brooklyn, has a million-dollar smile and that antiquated good ol’ boy charm, blond hair and blue eyes and biceps for days, would know what’s what.

But don’t let that fool you: Steve Rogers is a mess.

Obvious | 917 words ☕

"Oh, I have a prompt! So, it makes me laugh how painfully obvious Steve and Bucky's feelings are to everyone when they're in that pining, slowburn, does-he-doesn't-he phase. But imagine Steve and Bucky working in a coffee shop together and constantly bickering, nudging and playfully flirting with each other. And all the employees and patrons are so invested in their relationship and just want them to kiss already but no one realizes that Steve and Bucky have been married since they got out of HS."

#stucky #steve rogers/bucky barnes #bucky barnes/steve rogers #stucky fics #stucky fic #stucky fic rec #stucky fic recs #stucky fics rec #stucky fics recs #stucky fan fiction #stucky fiction #stucky ao3 #stucky complete #stucky au #adorable stucky fics

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ayybtch · 3 years

Text

Bread

Wanda Maximoff x f!Reader, Baker!AU + Friends to Lovers

Chapter 5 of Made With Love

Word Count: 3,292

Chapter Warnings: Our two favorite idiots are so blind it’s not even funny, lots of yearning, some brief mentions of alcohol consumption towards the end

A/N: Hey guys! Thanks for being patient with me on getting this posted. School and work have been crazy, but I’m almost done for the semester so hopefully it won't be as long for the next update. Shout out to my Grandma for sending me her paprikash recipe so I would actually know what I was talking about for this chapter. We literally never speak but she did me a real solid on this one and I will be adding paprikash into my regular cooking schedule once fall hits. Full disclosure though, I literally Googled “What wine pairs with chicken paprikash” and the wines mentioned are what it gave me. Please let me know what you think! I love reading your guys’s comments, it really makes my day.

Hey, so everyone is going to be out on a mission tomorrow night except for me. Any chance I can cash in on that raincheck? There’s a Bewitched marathon happening.

You smiled at Wanda’s message, quickly typing out your response. Definitely! Would you like to join me for bread day tomorrow?

She responded almost immediately. YES!

You couldn’t help but laugh at her enthusiasm. She had been wanting to make bread ever since the two of you made snickerdoodles. She brought it up almost constantly, mostly as a joke to get back at you for all of the times you teased her about it.

Up to this point, Wanda refused to accept any of your attempts to say thank you for helping you out through the cupcake debacle, saying that this was the sort of thing that friends were for. It only felt right that this should be the next thing to bake as your own special way of saying thank you.

As excited as you were to spend time with her and teach her how to do this, you couldn’t help but feel incredibly nervous at the same time. Why had Wanda decided to share her sexuality with you after all this time?

Okay, scratch that. You understood why she shared it with you when she did. The real question is what to do with the information now that you had it.

Was it just a general knowledge sort of a deal? Or was this her way of trying to say she was interested?

You groaned and put your head in your hands. This is why you hadn’t dated someone since your last relationship ended. You needed big flashing lights that screamed “I want to date you!” before you’d catch on, and even that didn’t work sometimes. If someone tried to be subtle, you were an absolute lost cause. You did your best to recall every interaction you had with Wanda that could even remotely be considered as her flirting or expressing interest.

She did smile at you a lot, even more than she smiled at Sam and Bucky who she clearly adored. She also certainly didn’t shy away from physical contact and had even initiated it several times. She had also remembered your coffee and bagel order from the one random time it came up weeks ago...

Suddenly, everything started to add up. All of those glances that had left your heart racing, all of those little touches...maybe Wanda was interested in you?

Your heart felt ready to burst out of your chest with joy.

Wanda didn’t arrive at the bakery until almost noon. The majority of the bread had been baked already; the only bread left to make was hers.

The two of you said your hello’s and caught up a bit as she stepped in to put on her apron and began washing her hands. Once the conversation slowed, you started your rundown for today’s bake.

“Bread is actually a lot easier than it looks but there are a couple of points we’re going to need to be careful at. I’ll remind you about them as we go about but I figured it would be good to have them all in your head now.

“We’re going to be very conscientious about temperatures this entire bake in a way we haven’t really needed to before. When we’re dealing with the yeast, we need the milk around 110 to 115o so the yeast activates properly. We also want things to be warm during the rise times, which shouldn’t be too much of an issue given the ovens have been on most of the day. Once it’s in the oven, we aren’t going to mess with it at all until the last couple minutes and that’s only if we need it to brown further.”

Wanda nodded along as you spoke. “I don’t know how much of an actual problem this is because you’re here, but I always hear a lot about overworking or underworking the dough. How do I know if it’s been kneaded enough?”

“Ah, good question! If the dough keeps getting really flat and not holding its shape, it’s underworked. If the dough is overworked, it gets kind of hard and not easy to work with. The good news is that we’re kneading by hand since it’s your first time and it’s a lot less likely to happen that way than in a mixer.”

She looked unconvinced but nodded. “Okay, so where do we begin?”

The first fifteen minutes of the bake flew by quickly. The yeast mixture had been prepared and was almost ready for the rest of the ingredients to be mixed in. Wanda was completely in awe at how the mixture looked.

To be fair to her though, the yeast mixture does look very weird if you’re not used to seeing it.

Once the flour, salt, and eggs were mixed in, the true fun began. Everything was mixed just enough to be combined into a rough, sticky ball of dough before being taken out of the mixer and onto the floured counter. Wanda followed along as you sprinkled some flour on your dough and began to knead, doing her best to mirror your motions.

You watched her out of the corner of your eye as you worked the dough, waiting to see what she would do. It was hard to hold back your giggles as you watched her. She was practically just squeezing the dough in different directions. You gave her a few minutes to see if she would work things out, but eventually, you set your dough down and moved closer to her.

“Here, let me help,” you said. Your hands moved so they were on top of hers, you tried guiding her through the motions, only for things to fail miserably.

“Okay, can I try something that might be a little weird? It’s just that I’m not used to kneading at an angle like that so it’s throwing off my muscle memory.”

She nodded and you adjusted yourself so you were now standing behind her. Your arms slid around either side of her waist and your hands rested on top of hers. This time, your hands knew what they were doing and you were able to help guide her through the motion. Even after she got it, you remained standing behind her, your chin resting against her shoulder.

The feelings that washed over you as you stood there with her were hard to describe. There was nothing necessarily comfortable about the position you were in, but your whole body felt more relaxed than it had all day. At the same time though, everything felt electrifying. You hoped she couldn’t feel the way your heart was thumping against your chest.

It wasn’t until you realized Wanda had paused and turned back slightly to face you slightly that you stepped back. An apology rose up in your throat only to die as you noticed the small smile on her face. You shot a smile back at her before moving back to your spot, turning your attention back to the job at hand.

The rest of the bake went smoothly, despite Wanda’s fretting about if the bread was rising enough. It didn’t take long before you had two perfectly round loaves of bread sitting next to each other on the cooling rack. Wanda had not stopped smiling since they came out of the oven. Even though that was her usual response, this time felt different.

For the second time that day, you were left trying to describe impossible feelings. Was it her eyes that felt different? They were lit beautifully, radiating so much joy it was impossible to not feel just as excited. But how was that any different from usual? Her eyes always captivated you and left you breathless. Maybe it was the new shade of pink lipstick she had on. It was perfectly accentuating the shape of her lips, to the point you couldn’t help but wonder what it might be like to feel them pressed against yours.

You may not be able to pinpoint what the look was, all you knew is that you were grateful to be a part of why her smile was so big.

After she finished taking pictures of the loaves, she turned to you. “That was incredible! I had no idea bread could be that simple.”

You nodded along, unable to hold back a smile. “I told you it wasn’t too bad, there are just a couple spots you have to be sure to navigate well. And clearly -” you gestured towards the loaves, “- you did. Maybe I should start worrying about you stealing my job.”

Her laughter filled the kitchen at your teasing.

As her laugher began to die out, her focus turned back on to you. “Okay, so what time were you thinking of coming over? I’m making us dinner and want to try and have it finishing up right around the time you get there.”

You glanced over at the clock and then back to the to-do list written out on the whiteboard above your desk before answering, “I think it’ll probably be close to five if I had to guess. I still have to finish cleaning some stuff here and I promised to go help Charlie work out some menu options for that picnic thing that’s coming up.”

Wanda nodded along, “Are you going to that?”

“I’m working it, so I, unfortunately, don’t have much of a choice.”

She nodded again. “Same here, actually. All of the Avengers are required to be unless there’s some sort of alien invasion again or something…” She trailed off a moment before continuing. “I was planning on making paprikash. Is that okay with you? I don’t know if there’s anything you can’t or don’t like to eat.”

“I’ve actually never had that before so that would be wonderful! I’m pretty easy when it comes to food. The only things I don’t like are mushrooms and zucchini, but I’ll still eat them if I have to.”

Wanda gasped, “You don’t like mushrooms? How do you not like mushrooms?”

You just shrugged, “Okay, I’m actually pretty neutral on mushrooms. I’ll still eat them. I just don’t go out of my way to make them for myself. Zucchini is a firm no, though.”

She gave you a side-eye but relented. “Well, there are no mushrooms or zucchini in this, but just know I’m going to have to keep an eye on you from now on. I don’t know how we’ve made it this far into our friendship without me knowing you’re an anti-mushroom heathen.”

The two of you joked around for a few minutes longer before she left to start preparing for dinner.

Planning the menu with Charlie didn’t take very long, which you were grateful for. He already had a decent idea of what he wanted to do, so the main thing left was to figure out how much food to order to prepare it. The two of you also agreed upon what you needed to make. Most of your responsibilities centered around desserts, specifically pies, though you agreed to make some fresh rolls and soft pretzels as well.

You were thankful for the meeting to end though because it meant the remaining time you had left could be spent getting ready to go see Wanda.

‘Getting ready’ was perhaps a bit dramatic. You were just changing out of your usual work clothes into something a little cuter. It was nothing particularly fancy, but it was an outfit you felt both confident and comfortable in. You had also made sure to pack some toiletries that morning, allowing you to freshen up your deodorant and brush your teeth as well.

As you stepped into the elevator and pressed the button, you couldn’t help but feel a bit jittery. The past few times you’ve made your way to that part of the building you’ve been nervous about the other Avengers not wanting you there. This time though, all of your nerves could be attributed entirely to Wanda. You weren’t sure what to expect of tonight, but you were determined to have a fun night filled with food and good company.

The warm smell of paprika filled the air and made your stomach grumble as soon as you stepped out of the elevator. Once you were inside, you found Wanda in the kitchen, stirring in some additional seasonings.

“This smells incredible,” you said, setting the two loaves of bread down on the counter.

Wanda beamed. “Thanks! This is my great grandmother’s recipe and is one of my favorite things to make.” As she set the spoon down, she walked towards the fridge. “I bought some wine to go along with dinner if you would like some.”

“Yes please, wine sounds amazing right now.”

“I have a chardonnay and a Barolo, which would you prefer?” she asked, turning back towards you.

You shrugged, “Whichever one you want.”

She nodded and pulled out the Barolo. It didn’t take long for the bottle to be opened and to have a glass of wine in your hand.

It wasn’t until you took your first sip that you realized Wanda had also changed. Your breathing hitched as you looked her up and down. Gone were her jeans and old T-shirts, replaced by a pair of cut-off shorts and a stylishly oversized T-shirt. If it weren’t for the fuzzy wool socks on her feet, you’d assume she was camera-ready. Hell, even with the funny socks she was the most beautiful woman you had ever seen.

You realized you were staring and abruptly began looking around the kitchen, trying to find something to do that would take your mind off of how hot Wanda looked. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

Wanda shook her head no. “There’s not really anything to be done, this just needs to simmer for about another five minutes and we’ll be good to go. Why don’t you go have a seat at the table and I’ll be over in just a moment with some bread slices and butter. Once this is ready I’ll bring it in as well.”

You nodded and made your way out of the kitchen and towards the table.

It wasn’t until you were seated that you realized how well the table was set. Both seats had beautiful flatware laid out, with silverware organized neatly to the side. Underneath was a crisp, pure white table cloth. What caught your attention the most though were the two lit candles sitting between your chair and hers. It wasn’t until you noticed the candles that you also noticed the music playing softly in the background.

Everything about the setup screamed ‘fancy first date’.

Before you had much of a chance to dwell on the thought, Wanda arrived with several slices of bread and a small dish of butter. You thanked her before she walked back towards the kitchen. She returned soon after with the pot of paprikash, setting it on the hot pad in the center of the table. She walked around to her seat and soon both of you had your plates filled and began to eat.

It was impossible to hold back a satisfied sigh as you took your first bite. It tasted just as delicious, if not better than it smelled. The chicken was cooked perfectly and all but melted in your mouth. The paprika added a nice rich flavor and added extra depth to the creaminess of the sauce.

“Wanda this is incredible.”

She smiled at you brightly, “If you think it’s good by itself, try dipping the bread with some butter in it.”

You did as she said and this time instead of a satisfied sigh, you let out a satisfied moan. “You are going to have to give me this recipe. This is so good I don’t even know what to say, all I want to do is keep eating.”

Wanda laughed at your enthusiasm. “Tell you what, I’ll teach you how to make it sometime. It’s about time I taught you something in the kitchen.”

Dinner was a blast. The two of you spent more of it laughing and talking than eating. The bottle of Barolo was finished before dinner was done. It didn’t take long before it was replaced by the chardonnay.

Once dinner was over, you fought Wanda to let you help clean up the kitchen. Her argument that guests shouldn’t help was shot down as you pointed out she’s technically a guest in the bakery, yet she always helps clean up after she’s been in there. She grumbled about it but quickly conceded. It didn’t take long for the kitchen to be cleaned up and even less time after that for her to drag you over to the couch.

The first-ever episode of “Bewitched” was halfway finished by the time the two of you had settled into your spots on the couch. Currently, Samantha and Darrin were at his ex-girlfriend's house for a dinner party and the girlfriend was doing everything she could to make Samantha feel inferior. Samantha, of course, wasn’t having it and was willing to fudge her promises of not using magic to level the playing field.

Wanda laughed along perfectly in time with the sitcom track. The more she laughed, the more your attention turned from being on the TV to be on her. This was the most relaxed and happy you had ever seen her. She had a small, almost imperceivable smile that grew as she became more and more emerged into the episode. Each time she laughed, you noticed how her nose would scrunch up in the cutest way and it took everything you had to not lean over and kiss her.

What you wouldn’t give to make her as happy as this show.

It wasn’t until the end credits were about to roll that you forced yourself to look back at the screen, unsure of how she’d respond if she caught you staring.

As the next episode cued up, she reached out and grabbed her glass of wine before turning to face you.“So, what do you think? Could I have been a Samantha in another life?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Definitely, though I can’t see you being willing to hide your powers just because a man wants you to.”

Wanda nearly choked on the sip of wine she had taken. “You got me there.”

She finished the glass and set it back on the table before letting out a loud yawn. “Sorry, I probably should’ve warned you beforehand that wine makes me a little sleepy.” She paused for a moment before she continued, “It also makes me incredibly cuddly…”

A rush of emotions washed over you as you processed her words. Was she asking to come cuddle with you?

The hopeful look in her eye suggested she was.

Pure, unadulterated joy swept over your body and you had to fight the urge to jump up and down from excitement. You did your best to collect yourself before you replied, hoping that the answer was indeed what you were looking for.

“Is that your way of asking if you can come snuggle?”

She smiled at you sheepishly, which made you laugh. You moved over on the couch, moving around some of the throw pillows so you could lay down.

“Well, what are you waiting for then?”

Wanda didn’t hesitate for a moment and soon was laying on top of you, her head resting on your chest. One of your arms wrapped loosely around her back after she settled in.

A comfortable silence fell over you as you laid there together, watching Bewitched until you fell asleep.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff fan fiction

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fawnandshadows · 3 years

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After the Ceremony - Chapter 3

I had so much fun writing this chapter, and I could not be more excited to share it! Please let me know what you guys think, and I also wanted to thank everyone for their support because I was so convinced that no one was going to read this, and I am so incredibly flattered at the response I have received. This story is also available on AO3

Summary: Elain and Azriel after Nesta and Cassian's Mating Ceremony.

Words: 2,938

Story Rating: M

Elain was giddy. She couldn’t remember the last time she woke up and was excited about the day ahead of her. Well, before the solstice she used to wake up and be content and hopeful. She would tend to her garden and try to make the world a more beautiful place; gardening was something that she was good at, something that she enjoyed, and it was something that was just hers. There were many times, before Feyre had been taken, that she wished she could have done something more substantial for her family, but they couldn’t afford the seeds to grow any food, and she didn’t even know how to grow food. So, once Elain settled into her fae life enough, she decided to learn a valuable skill - one that almost anyone would approve of.

She learned how to bake, and then she learned how to cook. The twins were surprisingly gracious and they were more than welcoming and patient with her, and before long Elain started to think of Nuala and Cerridwen as friends. The first friends she ever made that were hers, and hers alone. She knew they worked for Feyre, Rhysand, and Azriel, but the twins weren’t friends with them.

It was during this time that Elain started to hope to see Azriel every day when she woke up. Whenever she was with the twins there was always a part of her that wanted Az to show up and ask for a report, he almost never did, but she imagined it just the same. He would come in after a long day, and she would offer him the chocolate chip cookies she baked herself - Elain made those cookies at least once a week after learning they were his favorite- and they would simply enjoy each other’s company. She dreamed that he would open up to her, because the Mother knew he needed someone to talk to, and Elain would give him a lovely, cozy space where he would forget about his spy business for a bit. A space that he could think of as home.

And then there were the daydreams where Elain imagined they did a little bit more than talk. On many occasions, when Elain was alone in the kitchen baking bread and covered in flour, she thought of Azriel storming into the kitchen in a flurry of emotion - sometimes it was anger, but it could have been passion, or even an overwhelming lust - and he would take her into his arms and kiss her as if his life depended on it. They almost always ended up covered in flour, or whatever Elain was cooking, and right when her imagination was starting to get interesting somebody inevitably walked into the kitchen, and it was almost never the person she wanted it to be. Sometimes her family could be such busy bodies.

None of her fantasies lived up to the real thing.

The real Azriel, the one crafted from flesh and blood and bone, was so exquisite that her dirtiest most intense fantasy seemed childish.

Her heart pounded wildly just thinking about it.

A soft knock sounded from the door, disrupting Elain from the memories she was reliving over and over again, and Elain told whoever was knocking to come in. She briefly entertained the idea of feigning sleep, but she had already lazed in bed for almost an hour. A small indulgence she allowed herself - normally she would rise with the sun and immediately throw herself into the garden, or help with breakfast, or do something to show she was useful.

Feyre, to Elains surprise, entered the room and shut the door behind her.

“Good morning.” Elain raised herself up and smiled at her sister.

Feyre had not yet dressed for the day, she still wore her navy silk nightgown and robe, and it warmed Elains heart to see her sister in such finery. She was happy that Feyre found herself a mate that treated her like a queen - she deserved it after everything she did for their family. There were times when Elain felt the crushing urge to hug her sister, and she decided after last night to grant herself those small kindnesses - she had come to learn that it was never a bad thing to show someone you loved them, even if you couldn’t say it.

Elain had opened her arms and said, “Doesn’t it seem like a fine morning for a cuddle?”

Feyre laughed and walked over to her sister before plopping herself into the bed and into Elain’s open arms.

“We haven’t done this in forever,” Feyre said with a sigh - as if she were remembering the last time it happened and how everything had changed since then. “As much as I love Rhys he tends to hog the bed. He kicks off all the covers and then has the audacity to accuse me of stealing them, can you believe that,” Even though Feyre’s voice held a hint of exasperation Elain knew there was a smile on her face, probably one that found its twin on Elains face. “I barely got any sleep last night. Nyx woke up crying and I had to search the entire house for his favorite toy, you know the one - the stuffed bat that Cassian got him. Somehow it ended up downstairs in the ballroom.”

Elain felt tears start to well in her eyes. She was just so happy for Feyre, and her joy was only amplified knowing that Feyre was happy. Feyre was completely, utterly, and divinely happy.

“Is that why you decided to join me this morning? To get some peace and quiet?” Elain asked.

It was Feyre that almost stumbled upon her and Azriel last night. Her cheeks warmed not only at the memory, but at the fact that Feyre almost saw them. Elain was almost certain that Feyre didn’t know about the scene she interrupted, but still she wanted to make sure.

“Yes and no,” Feyre said, and Elain could tell from her voice that she wasn’t going to like what her sister said. Feyre shifted on the bed to face Elain. “Were you downstairs last night. I thought I smelled you, and you know how not great I am at distinguishing scents,” It was true. For all of her power and abilities, a keen sense of smell wasn’t one of them. “But I thought I smelled you downstairs when I was looking for Nyx’s bat. Of course when I actually got into the room you weren’t there, and I know my nose has been sensitive ever since I was pregnant, so I could have just been smelling you from earlier.”

A small smile tugged at Elains lips, and the delightful urge to share with her sister moved through her.

“Can I tell you something?” She asked shyly.

Feyre’s eyebrows raised as she said, “Of course.”

“I need you to be my sister. Not High Lady.”

At Feyre’s nod Elain couldn’t hold back. In excited whispers she told her sister everything that she felt, and most of what transpired last night, Elain kept some of the more private details to herself.

“That explains the torn nightgown.” Feyre commented at one point, and Elain couldn’t contain the giggle that burst out of her. It had never really been like this between her and Feyre, Elain had always drifted more towards Nesta, but she was glad to have this moment with her younger sister.

“Feyre,” Elaid started with a bit of hesitation. “Has Rhysand ever talked to you about me?”

Feyre’s brow furrowed a bit as she thought.

“He adores you, and he thinks of you as his own sister, but I can’t think of anything recently.” The two sat in silence for a moment before Feyre exclaimed, “Oh! He loved the tarts you made the other day, the apple ones, he was rather put out that you saved the last one for Az,” Feyre nudged her with her shoulder. “Although that makes sense now.”

“He hasn’t mentioned anything else?”

“No, why? Should he have?”

Elain debated whether or not she should share this part, that part of Rhys being a meddlesome mother hen, with Feyre. She thought that her sister would be on her side, but Elain didn’t want to be responsible for a rift between her sister and her mate.

She shook her head and said, “No reason. He just stepped on my toes a little harshly last night, but it wasn’t his fault. Cassian was practically falling on him, and when Rhys tried to get out of the way he landed on my foot. I was hoping to tease him about it today, but I’m afraid he might have been a little too tipsy to remember it.”

Before Feyre had the chance to respond, Nyx's cry filled the air.

“I suppose the day has to start at some point,” Feyre said and she rolled out of bed. “Starting it with my sister and son seems like a pretty good way.”

Elain nearly tripped over her cobalt dress as she rushed down stairs. She couldn’t help it. She was just too excited to start the day and to see Azriel again. She wanted to see him in the light of day, not that she minded seeing him in the shadows of the night when it was only them and the Mother, but Elain wanted to see his face blush with unobstructed vision, and she wanted his hazel eyes warm in the light of the sun.

It had been too long since they allowed themselves to be together in the light of day.

When she reached the kitchen Elain wasn’t surprised to see it was only Nuala and Cerridwen in the kitchen. Her friends gave her sly smiles as they took in her goofy grin and red cheeks before saying good morning to her.

“Good morning,” Elain replied, eyeing the cinnamon rolls that just came out of the oven. The rest of her family must have been waiting in the living room before breakfast, and a thought popped into Elain’s head. “Did you guys use the recipe we just came up with?”

“Yes.” They said in unison.

Elain didn’t stop herself from piling three rolls onto a plate and filling up a mug with coffee. She bit her lip to contain her excitement as she made her way to the swinging door, saying a quick goodbye to her friends before leaving the kitchen.

The trek to the living room was short, but the anticipation made butterflies flutter in her stomach. She knew what she was about to do, she was going to offer food to another male while her mate was in the room, but Elain was determined she wasn’t going to hide her feelings anymore. She brought Rhysand and Cassian food all the time whenever she wanted to surprise them. Elain even went out of her way to bring Amren the croissants she liked because Elain remembered how Amren was the only one who thought her strong enough to look for the Dread Trove objects, and Elain wanted to show her appreciation.

When Elain stepped into the living room no one noticed her. No one but Azriel that is, and even though he didn’t show it she was certain he was aware of her presence.

Azriel was on the far side of the room, in front of a big bay window, smiling down at More. Hesitation and fear threatened to break her resolve, but Elain moved before she could talk herself out of it. She suddenly remembered the one burning question she had forgotten to ask.

She had to trust Azriel.

As she approached them Elain was suddenly overwhelmed by Azriels beauty. She spent so long avoiding him that it almost felt indecent to look at him freely and openly in the light of day. The morning sun illuminated his tan skin and set his hazel eyes aflame. She could even make out a hint of blue in his inky hair. Hair that she had just found out was as soft as it looked.

“Good morning,” Elain said as she stopped a few feet away from them. “I brought you something. I know you love to have sweets in the morning, but you’re too disciplined to indulge yourself.”

His face was unreadable, but there was an undeniable warmth in his eyes as he looked at her. Elain was sure he noted that her cobalt dress matched his siphons which caused his eyes to go molten. Elain heard the conversations turn dull, just for a moment, before returning back to normal - and she was certain that a pair of violet eyes were watching their every move.

Elain could also feel vexation radiating off of Lucien as he watched them from his place next to the fireplace. Feyre, Elain noticed on her way in, planted herself firmly between Lucien and the group Elain was with.

Azriel took one step towards her, and Elain inhaled deeply his scent of night chilled mist and cedar. A small thrill skittered down her spine as his scent intertwined her own. Az let out a raspy thank you before taking the plate and the mug. He took a deep sip on coffee, his bright eyes maintaining contact with hers over the lip of the mug, and Elain would have sworn that the entire room disappeared.

Her eyes left his for a moment as they watched his tongue trace over his lips. Elains hands fisted in her dress to stop herself from grabbing his face and kissing the coffee away.

Elain watched as he set the coffee on the windowsill before picking up a cinnamon roll and taking a bite. A small groan emitted from the back of Azriels throat.

“Good morning.” A chipper voice broke Elain’s connection to Az.

Elain mentally shook herself as she looked at the blond standing with them. She had completely forgotten Mor was here standing with them, and Elain recognized the amusement in Mor’s tone.

“Good morning,” Elain managed a small smile as a furious blush overtook her face. From the knowing grin on Mor’s face Elain knew she had witnessed everything that just happened between her and Az. “You’re a lovely dancer. I saw you last night.” Elain had hoped to distract Mor with conversation.

“I think you might have been more interested in my partner.” Mor winked at her, and her face somehow turned warmer. She was blushing more than she ever had before. Elain noted the satisfied, and proud grin, that formed if Azriel’s beautiful lips. She wanted to kiss that grin off his face.

Mor looked between the two of them, as if she could see something that they couldn’t, and a frown appeared between her eyebrows. She quickly excused herself and left the room.

“Was it something I said?” Elain asked as she watched the blonde leave. “I didn’t interrupt anything, did I?”

“Of course not,” Az said quickly. His hand reaching out to touch her, she shivered at the feel of his calloused hands on her skin. He quickly dropped her hand and reached for his mug, took a sip, and then thought for a moment before offering it to her. “You are never an interruption.”

Elain didn’t hesitate before taking a drink of his coffee, she had brought it to him black because he liked it that way, and Elain almost always dumped way too much sugar in her own coffee. It thrilled her to know they were sharing a drink, and that they were doing it in front of everybody. They were done hiding. It moved her, and made her insides turn to gooey, as she realized that this was a giant step for them - that it was Azriel that initiated it. They could write off her bringing him breakfast, but sharing a drink was as intimate as they have been in front of everyone else.

Her eyes widened as she felt a damn break inside of her. Before her eyes, a silvery blue chord appeared and flowed towards Azriel, who just looked at it in complete surprise. It looked like a river flowing from her heart into his and after a moment or two it dissipated.

They looked at each other without saying a word, but somehow they were more aware of each other. She swore if she concentrated hard enough she would be able to feel his heart beating in his chest.

No one else seemed to be aware of what had passed between them. The conversation still raging around them, and Elain knew that if Lucien had seen what happened he wouldn’t have stayed put on the opposite side of the room.

“Do you know-” Elain cut herself off at the shake of Azriels head.

Elain opened her mouth to say something, she didn’t know what, but stopped at the appearance of the twins and the announcement that breakfast was served. She brought her hand to his tentatively, giving him the option of pulling away, and gasped at the jolt that went through her as their skin touched.

What every passed between them felt electric, and Elain noticed the warmth that was pooling between her legs and the need to rip her dress off to feel more of Azriel’s skin on her.

“Ready for breakfast,” A friendly voice asked her and a heavy arm landed on her shoulder. Elain looked up to see Cassian smiling down at her, looking a little too fresh considering how drunk he was last night. “Not everyone got special cinnamon rolls this morning.” Cassian winked over his shoulder as he steered her out of the room.

#elain archeron #elain acotar #elriel fanfic #pro elriel #elriel fanfiction #elain x azriel #elriel #after the ceremony #after the ceremony chapter 3 #my work #my fanfiction #azriel #acotar fanfiction #acotar

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luminois · 3 years

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— 𝐡𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐣𝐢𝐧;

𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡, 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞

𝐰: 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐲, 𝐧𝐨𝐧-𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠.

𝟏𝟕𝟖𝟓 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬, 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫.

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭.

looking down through the hole in the clouds, your wings fluttered in excitement and trepidation. the white feathers caressed your arms as they closed in on themselves, hugging your figure reassuringly.

you could see the whole world from above, magnificent and so far away. you hadn’t been an angel for long, and the memories of your past life were still present in your mind. they were nothing more than specks of light, little presents from the past that made you smile. someone laughing, a farm, the taste of freshly picked grapes, naked feet running on the grass. you had lived surrounded by animals and wheat fields, simple tasks filling up sunny days. you’d been happy, that’s what the memories suggested, and you were happy now. you didn’t know what you’d done to earn eternity, but you knew you wanted to help others reach it too.

an archangel, in his luminescent beauty, was calling the names of the angels huddled around the cavity. every time one of them got closer to the archangel, the world became bigger and bigger until only one, specific place on earth was visible. that was where the angel was being sent to, where a great amount of humans had lost themselves to sin and were in need of an angel to bring them back to the right path. you had waited for decades to be sent on earth, and now the moment had finally arrived.

the archangel called your name and you went, light on your feet, the golden path cold under them. everything in paradise was chilly, made of glass and crystal and precious metals, breathtakingly perfect. you’d always found it somewhat unsettling, how everything seemed so easy to break and nobody ever tried to. would a swift move of your hand or just a little more pressure shatter what had been there forever? you were convinced the answer was yes, and the idea of being the first was fascinating, even if you’d never act upon it. you wondered.

the place you were going to was nothing more than a town. it had been the perfect place to live until the residents had started to be uncaring of the things around them, and now it had become dirty and unpleasant. litter filled the streets, graffiti ruined every wall and many shops had closed down, now only displaying shattered windows.

“the devil has found his way to these poor souls’ hearts,” the archangel said. his voice sounded like it didn’t come from him, like it was resonating in your own head. “they’ve lost their path. the greatest of gifts is a lighthouse in the dark, tumultuous sea. go and be their light, and they will be grateful for eternity.”

the archangel leaned down to kiss your hair, and when you opened your eyes again your wings were gone, and you weren’t cold anymore.

“i can’t thank you enough, sweetie. you’re an angel.”

you smiled as you handed the paper bag filled with freshly made bread over the bakery’s counter. the elderly man with teary eyes was a regular, and one of your favorite people in town. the darkness hadn’t reached his soul directly, he was too good hearted, but he’d been greatly affected by everyone’s wrongdoings. his share of bread was always on the house.

“i’m really not, sir,” you said, “knowing i’m being of help is a pleasure.”

the man showed his almost toothless smile and left, leaving you alone to rest against the counter, taking a breath before going to check the pastries cooking in the oven. being a human was exhausting, even if it was just play-pretend. you now had to sleep and eat and you were often tired, concepts unknown to otherworldly creatures.

it had been a little over the human equivalent of a month since you’d reached earth. you didn’t know how much had passed in paradise, years maybe, the working of time wasn’t a topic you were interested in. your time was infinite, the one thing you didn’t have to worry about.

you’d had to make up a story, explaining who you were and why you’d suddenly appeared out of thin air. like almost every other shop in town, the bakery had been abandoned when you first arrived, so you fixed it up and became a young girl starting a small business in a lovely town. or the remnants of it, that is.

behind the facade of the bakery, your true job was to make things better, and you could confidently say it was going well. the mayor was a corrupt, money-hungry woman who had left her town to care for itself. but since she didn’t care about what her citizens did, you hadn’t found any resistance upon asking permission to start your own public initiatives. it had been hard to convince people to work for anything other than personal gain, but you’d discovered that kindness was the best remedy.

yours was the only bakery in town, and everyone had visited it sooner or later. watching people go from being nothing but rude to reserving their best smile for every time they opened your door was priceless. now the streets weren’t as dirty thanks to the people who had volunteered to help you clean them, and you were planning on removing the graffiti next. you didn’t have much power over unemployment and poverty, but you were sure everything would fix itself once everyone would have found the right path again.

you took out the pastries from the oven before sighing in satisfaction and walking to the door, turning the open sign. you murmured to yourself the list of things you had to do now that the bakery was closed as you walked to the back, entering the room you called home. you’d promised to help the woman who lived down the street bake a cake for her son’s birthday and plant some daisies in her garden. only days prior you’d helped her paint over the worn-out outside of her house, and it was really starting to look like a lovely place.

you took off your apron before facing the mirror next to the door. you knew your wings weren’t there, but seeing yourself without them was a surprise every time. you turned as much as you could to look at your back, moving your hair to the side as they covered the space between your shoulder blades. how could something that was a part of yourself just disappear like that? what was even more surreal was that you didn’t particularly miss the expanse of white feathers. you were just unused to their absence, but you were capable of doing everything without them just fine. the only thing left to show your angelic nature were your brightly golden eyes, staring back at you before you looked away.

you should’ve been afraid of walking by yourself in the seemingly deserted street, but you knew you weren’t alone. you could feel eyes boring into your skin as you walked, following you like a predator and its prey. that’s why you didn’t scream when someone grabbed your arm and your back hit the brick wall of a narrow alley, but a hand was still pressed over your mouth.

you always felt warm on earth, not missing the freezing air of paradise at all. right now, through, you felt more than warm. your skin was burning, like the fire in the stranger’s red irises.

he was beautiful, more than any of the angels you’d met, more than the archangels and more than what you’d imagined the highest would look like. strands of long hair touched his cheeks and the corners of his smirking lips, pitch black like the tattoos on his arms and the sleeveless shirt he was wearing. his eyes were filled with amusement and something dark that came from within. a demon. you gulped, and he noticed.

“oh little angel, am i scaring you?”

your wide eyes looked up at him, and he cooed. he was tall, hovering over you with his wide shoulders, the heat radiating from him making your cheeks bloom with crimson. his tone had been sweet, but there was sarcasm and bite behind his words.

“what have you been doing, uh? going around and ruining all the work i’ve done before you came. that’s a mean thing to do, angel. why are you being so mean to me?”

the big hand covering your mouth moved to loosely wrap around your neck. you gulped again, unable to look away from him or say a word, and his eyes flickered down as your neck moved. the demon could feel your heartbeat under his hand, rushed as your heart tripped over itself, and he bit down his lips as his smirk got bigger.

“i asked you a question, angel. it’s rude to ignore people like that,” he said, raising his eyebrows at you, waiting for your answer.

you opened your mouth a couple times before any sound got past your lips, the demon’s fingers holding your neck a little tighter. “i’m making things better because you ruined them.”

he gasped, but so exaggeratedly it sounded fake. you knew it was, and it made you blush more.

“you’re such a good girl, aren’t you?” he said, his sugary tone mocking you. “you say you’re making things better, but i think you’re ruining them, we’re not going to get along like this. what should we do?”

“you should stop,” you said, your voice a little more sure as the fear started to wear out.

he was bigger and stronger, but you were both humans right now. he had no more power than the sheer strength in his hands, and even if that was enough to kill you it wouldn’t have. the highest wouldn’t have let one of his angels die on earth like that. or that’s what you hoped.

“you know i can’t, this is what i do,” the demon said. the hold on your neck disappeared, but he got closer, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. “hyunjin. learn my name, angel, we’re going to be spending a lot of time together. whenever you ruin something i’ll fix it, mmh? would you like that?”

both of hyunjin’s inked arms were resting on the side of your head now, his bicep right in front of your eyes. he wouldn’t have had problems with shattering the entirety of paradise with his fists, and he wouldn’t have hesitated either. your words were caught up in the knot stuck in your throat, keeping you from answering. but if you hadn’t been petrified by his presence and the boiling blood running through your veins, what would you have said?

you wondered.

do you want to read more?

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flaminpumpkin · 3 years

Text

Small treasures

“Five more minutes,” Bruce grumbled as he distantly heard the door open through his sleepy haze.

There was some shuffling sound around the room and then it was flooded with bright morning light as Alfred mercilessly opened the heavy curtains, the rays of sunshine hitting the Bat right in the face, making him scramble for the covers to hide his sensitive eyes.

“Very well, Master Bruce. Breakfast will be ready for you in the kitchen.”

He was so used to Alfred’s barely hidden exasperation after all these years that his words took longer than usual to register with Bruce. A frown appeared on his face as he finally realized what was wrong with the butler’s statement.

Alfred never served breakfast – or any meal for that matter – in the kitchen.

He would rather shoo everyone out with a spatula full off batter than let anyone eat where he cooked. Bruce couldn’t even count the number of times he had seen Dick or Tim appear in the dining room with a sheepish look, a thoroughly exasperated Alfred hot on their heels.

Pushing the sheets away just enough to uncover his head, Bruce peeked over his shoulder at the still open door, eyebrows knitting further in confusion.

“What?”

Something caught his eyes.

There was a piece of yellow paper on the nightstand. An origami bat, he realized after finally deciding to emerge from the sea of sheets and pillows he had buried himself in during his sleep. He reached for it and took the little paper animal gingerly between his fingers, eyes focusing enough to read “unfold me” written in elegant cursive right at its center.

Bruce did as he was told.

Dear Master Bruce,

My words most probably confused you as the kitchen is a place I do not tolerate for anyone to eat in. But, need I remind you, there always has been one peculiar occasion where I allowed you to do so.

Bruce stared at the note, confusion growing.

Oh.

His eyebrows raised a bit, pleasantly amused. There was indeed one occasion Alfred would let him eat in the kitchen while he worked. What did the kids put Alfred to this time?

Led by his curiosity, Bruce climbed off the bed, fully awake now as he put on a shirt, and padded out of the bedroom, towards the kitchen.

No one was there when he arrived, which wasn’t odd per say but he had learned to be cautious over years of attempted surprise parties. There was a plate though, on the little table, with French toasts that smelled like butter and cinnamon and a cup of coffee with probably enough sugar and cream that it didn’t even taste like coffee anymore.

It was a breakfast Alfred had always prepared for him on the morning of his birthday after his parents’ death. He would put the plate on this same table and work silently as Bruce happily ate, the two of them sharing the same space in the simplest way. It wasn’t a grand gesture but it had meant the world to him nonetheless.

Another little origami bat was waiting for him, propped against the cup. A small smile tugged at his lips.

Bruce put it aside before starting to eat, careful not to stain the paper with coffee or grease, only taking it again once he had cleared the table and washed his hands. He unfolded it with the same care as the first.

My happy place.

(Took a piece of bread. Alfred said yes. Thank you.)

Cass

The dance studio on the third floor.

A while back, Bruce had decided to redesign one of the biggest rooms on that floor in a place where Cass could dance that wasn’t the ball room. He had wanted for it to be a place only for her, where she could express herself and spend time however she pleased, without anyone bothering her. His greatest recompense had been the radiant smile on her face before she had locked himself in there and played music until late that night.

The next course of action wasn’t too hard to guess so Bruce quickly folded the paper back into its bat form, slid it in the pocket of his pajama pants, along the first one, and headed for the next place.

As expected, he found another bat in Cass’s dance studio, tucked into the folds of a bright orange knitted scarf. There was a running joke between his kids saying that it was because Bruce always forgot to take a scarf with him during winter that his Batman voice sounded so bad.

One thing was for sure, he would not forget this one.

Hey B, remember that time you told me you were proud of me and then proceeded to suffocate me with your muscles? Just kidding, you give great hugs. Like, super comfy, 10/10. But yeah, go there next.

Steph :p

He huffed at Stephanie’s words, eyes rolling with fondness. He remembered perfectly what she was referring to.

The young woman had been staying in the manor for a few days that time, Alfred being keen on keeping her under careful observation after she had been hit with a new type of fear gas while on patrol with Dick. She had continuously apologized to Bruce, blaming herself for Dick’s injuries.

Until the third day, where he had found her reading in the library, curled up in one of the love seats. Before she could utter a word, he had crouched down and grabbed her hands firmly.

“You do not need to apologize or blame yourself for anything, do you hear me? You managed to drag Dick and yourself out of this building while under the influence of fear gas when most would have stayed frozen in place. I’m sure he will agree that a few scratches and broken bones are far better than what would have awaited him if you hadn’t been there. I’m proud of you, Stephanie Brown. More than you’ll ever know.”

After that, she had thrown herself at him and Bruce had hugged her for the better part of an hour until Alfred had come to fetch her for some blood analysis.

This time, when he walked into the next place of this little treasure hunt, he found a laptop, sitting open on the table next to one of the windows. The windows of the library were wide and high and the spot where the next gift awaited was one of his favorites.

So he let himself sink in the armchairs cushions and started to play the video.

“You better not ruin this, Todd,” Damian was saying, standing next to the piano in the lounge of the west wing, violin already positioned on his shoulder.

Jason was scowling at the piano in front of him, focused.

“Just take the lead, brat. I’ll follow.”

“Could you two focus, please?” Tim said off camera.

The other two huffed with the same affronted look towards the camera.

Then the melody started and both of their faces softened. It was gentle, melancholic. Almost sad if you asked Bruce. But he listened with a smile on his face, bemused at the sight of his two quick tempered sons playing with a soft kind of intensity together, Jason following Damian’s lead flawlessly – probably the result of hours of practice. It was truly beautiful and he knew that the melody was one of Damian’s compositions.

But it was over too soon for Bruce’s taste so he played it a second time, closing his eyes. And then a third as he read the next message, only heading for the next place once it was over.

Blah blah blah, some cute shit about us bonding, blah blah blah. Just get your ass to the garage old man.

Ps: Remember your Aston Martin? I think I scratched it a bit but I’ll blame it on Timmy anyway.

Jay.

Bruce knew exactly which car Jason was talking about (and knew perfectly that he didn't scratch it). An Aston Martin DB5 he had inherited from his father. Nobody had driven it in ages when Jason had brought it up during dinner one evening, not long after he had taken him in.

“Isn’t that James Bond's car?”

“It is. But it’s been so long since the last time I used it, I’ll probably need to pop open the hood before anything else if I want to drive it again.”

“Can I help you fix it?”

Jason’s eyes had been so full of hope and excitement when he had asked Bruce. He had laughed before agreeing. The next day, Alfred had had to come and pry them away from the car for lunch because both of them had forgotten about eating in their eagerness.

He noticed a tape case on the board as he approached, in front of the wheel. Bruce opened the door and climbed in so he could reach for it easily. On the piece of paper tucked between the clear case and the tape, Bruce could see every song scribbled, one in each of his children’s handwriting. He recognized a song by The Clash in Tim’s handwriting – of course – and Midnight Sonata in Damian’s. The other titles and artists were mostly lost on him, except maybe for that Belgian one Cass listened to a lot.

I can’t count the number of times I fell asleep there while you worked and you had to carry me back to my room.

Dick

Bruce couldn’t recount either.

Although he remembered fondly the first time Dick had fallen asleep in his study, curled up in one of the seats across his desk while he worked on some urgent papers for WE. They both had been so young. Bruce being completely new to parenthood, he had seeked out Alfred who had only fixed him with a blank stare before sending him back.

“Don’t you dare wake up this child, Master Bruce.”

He had actually managed to pick up the gangly child without waking him up, even if rather awkwardly, and had carried him all the way to his bedroom uneventfully. Only to trip on one of Dick’s schoolbooks once there, nearly dropping him.

They had both elected not to mention it to Alfred and, to this day, it was still something only the two of them knew about.

When he arrived at his study, another message was waiting for him in the seat Dick used to sleep in, along with a gift card for that 24 hours coffee shop that had opened recently in downtown Gotham. Bruce let out a breathy laugh at that.

I know you always listen when I play, Father. Why do you think I leave my door open when I do?

D. Wayne

And here he thought he had been smooth. However, he should have expected that his son would pick up on his habit of passing by his room while he rehearsed with his violin.

But Bruce couldn’t resist the pull in his chest. Damian was a gifted player, just like Jason, able to translate raw emotions in barely a few notes. It always put his mind at ease, smoothed out his most troubled thoughts even for only a few moments. He had caught everyone at least once, standing outside of his youngest’s door, listening to soft melodies in a rare moment of peace.

It was silent moments shared with everyone, brought together by Damian's deft fingers. Something he had been doing knowingly and willingly apparently. It made it all the more special for Bruce.

There was no gift when he went searching for the next clue in Damian’s room. Or so he thought.

Sitting on his son’s music-stand along with yet another yellow origami bat, was an open partition. It was still in work, Bruce could tell. Notes were hastily written with a pencil, a few stains where some had been erased. Nothing out of the ordinary for Damian and his creative mind. Except for the title.

Ode to Family.

Thankfully, no one was around to witness the shuddering breath that escaped him as he read. He exited the room still unable to breathe normally, heart so full he almost felt like suffocating, and walked towards his next – and probably last – location.

You spent hours trying to teach me how to dance the waltz there after I told you I wanted to take Steph dancing for her birthday. I still don’t know how to dance but we had fun.

Tim

Indeed, Bruce still regularly caught Tim stepping on his partner’s toes during charity galas and other events. But he suspected the young man of going to great lengths to not learn how to dance correctly because it usually dissuaded most people from asking him to dance with them. And god knew how much his son disliked dancing.

That was why it had greatly surprised him when Tim had asked him for help.

“I wasn’t really the best boyfriend to her so I just… I thought I could at least be a good friend and take her dancing? She loves it when Cass takes her in the studio and they dance so I just thought… Yeah…”

Five hours later, Tim had made absolutely no progress. He had known the steps by heart at this point, had it memorized and yet, he couldn’t seem to stop stomping on Bruce’s toes. To both Dick’s and Alfred’s delight.

His eldest son probably still had videos of it, he thought as he entered the vast and empty ballroom. There was nothing out of the ordinary or out of place and Bruce almost expected for his family to sneak up on him and surprise him when he noticed one last, black origami bat on the wooden floor, right in the center of the room.

He crouched down and unfolded it slowly, warily even, some would say.

Terrace on the second floor. You know, the one where I inelegantly asked you to marry me and you just stared for a good five minutes before laughing. (And saying yes, of course.)

It wasn’t signed and even if the message wasn’t telling enough, he would recognize that hasty scribble everywhere.

Bruce took off, climbing stairs two by two and running down hallways. His heart was pounding in his chest.

He had been gone for six months. Six excruciatingly long months of absolutely no contact, of not having any means to make sure his husband-to-be – yes, that idiot had asked him to marry him just before leaving – was still alive and well. Six months of worrying, of his children asking nervously if he had any news of his whereabouts.

Bruce barged through the French doors leading to the wide terrace on the second floor of the manor and, surely enough, everyone was there. Absolutely everyone.

“Happy birthday, Spooky. Half a century, we gotta celebrate,” Hal drawled with an easy grin.

“Someone take the cake away from Hal. Right now, before they ruin it!” Bruce heard someone say distantly and, next thing he knew, he had taken the few steps still separating them and was kissing Hal, holding him close by the lapels on his jacket.

There were groans, cheers and something that sounded a lot like someone telling them to get a room. Hal laughed against his lips, pecked him one last time before pulling away, opening his arms widely with a grin. A clear invitation for everyone to pile up on them which everyone took with great enthusiasm, barreling into them and crushing Bruce and Hal under their combined weight.

#batfam #bruce and his kids #that's it #batlantern #at the end #as a treat #cuz I love these old men #bruce wayne #batman #happy birthday batsy #this was supposed to be a short drabble i don't know what happened #clemwrites

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ohheyitsokay · 3 years

Text

echolo-kissing

Pairing: Francisco Morales (Frankie/Catfish) x reader

Wordcount: 1.5k

Warnings: none, shared sleeping space, cuddles, kisses, fluff

Summary: a few adventures of camping with Frankie

Notes: this was (apparently?) Heavily inspired by @scribbledghost I’m begging you, please go check out her fic “Winderness” with Catfish (I swear I didn’t mean to make this in such a similar vein but apparently that fic lives in my subconscious rent free?)

“Baby, what if we just lived in the woods forever?” Frankie was more than half serious.

The two of you were laying in a small tent, cover off so the sun was poking through the holes in the mosquito net. Nearby, a brook was babbling and a breeze floated through the greenery. There was one large sleeping bag and a blanket which cushioned your backs against the hard ground of the campsite Frankie had chosen. You only had a few hours before you’d have to get your fire started, but after the day of backpacking and setting up camp you both were happy to rest for a few moments.

You looked over at him, adoringly, having had versions of this conversation most of your relationship.

“Counter offer,” you said, as joking as he was not. “We have a normal home, with a very large yard.”

He looked so sad you almost wondered if he was exaggerating his pain to make you bend.

“Okay, what about … a camper, long term?” he said, his tone confirming your theory. “I can roll around in the dirt, and then you can still make me take a shower!” he grinned winningly, as though this was a very generous proposal.

You laughed. Frankie was like the sun, bathing you in warmth.

“Maybe a country home, with a promise that do this often?”

He rolled, pulling himself so he was more or less on top of you. His hat bumped your forehead, and he removed it so he could lean in close and kiss you properly.

“A cabin in the woods,” he said, his face still close to yours, his eyes absolutely filled with joy. “Final offer.”

“Deal,” you said, and you knew he was as perfectly happy as you were.

The two of you kissed twice more before he sighed, pulling himself to a kneeling position. His hand fit into yours before he stood, pulling you to your feet in front of him. Frankie’s head was smashed against the top of the tent, making it bump out. The curls on his head, already unruly, were quickly becoming frizzy from the material, and it made your heart feel full.

He grabbed his hat again, and tugged you out of the tent, zipping it up behind you.

There was a rhythm to your actions, both of you knew what to do. This was only your third camping trip this summer, and you’d been together a couple more months than that, but you were already familiar with each other’s minds. There were unspoken words to this, the same ones that found their home under your conversation about future homes. You were it, for each other.

You organized and sorted his supplies and fishing gear, making sure he’d know where to find it in the cold, early hours of the morning. You tucked one of his favorite jackets nearby, too. He made sure to pack your favorite snacks and put them in the tree bags so the bears would leave them alone. As he made his was back, you were beginning to clear a space for your fire, and you remembered something.

“Frankie, did you set aside the bag I made for dinner tonight or is it up in the tree already?” You didn’t look up; you knew his footsteps.

“I have it right here,” he said, settling next to you and contributing a pile of dry branches from his free arm. The other set the correctly labeled sack next to you, and you gave your thanks.

“What’s in there, anyway, junebug? It was heavier than you normally pack,” his brown eyes were curious, but he didn’t investigate on his own, much to your relief.

“Just normal dinner stuff,” you said, kissing his cheek as you reached behind him to get the pan you’d brought. “And I have a surprise for after.”

In that moment you could’ve sworn Frankie’s eyes were filled with stars.

“S'mores?” he said, equally hopeful and reverent. You just smiled at him and went back to your task.

You loved these trips. When Francisco Morales was able to escape into the woods and he was at peace, able to be more himself than in the rest of the world, unless he was flying.

He talked happily, telling you stories, and sharing rare glances into his past. You began to cook for the both of you, content to listen and let him do other, more tedious tasks.

After mixing various things and waiting awhile, you refilled one of the jars you’d emptied with stew, and he took it with a thanks, fishing out your little sets of utensils. Before he was halfway done with his portion, you noticed him pause, looking at his makeshift bowl and then towards the bag by your side.

“You want to know how much room you should save,” you said, not really asking. He looked a little bit guilty, and you took pity on him. The sweet pilot would never pressure you, but he always did hate secrets.

You poured out the remaining contents of the dinner bag on the ground where he could see.

“Ta-da!” It was a can of apple pie filling, a tiny Tupperware of butter, and some slices of bread.

Looking up at your love, proud of your surprise, you found him in a state of bewilderment and mild betrayal. You laughed, fumbling around in your backpack until you pulled out what looked like a large, strange pair of tongs. Instead if grabbers on the end, there was a shallow bowl on each side, aligned so they would make a pocket when closed.

“Does this help?” you asked, handing it to him to examine.

In all your years of friendship and months of dating, you weren’t sure you’d ever seen Frankie look so confused.

“It’s for making campfire pies,” you said, taking the device back from him. “See? I’ll butter both of the insides of the bowls, put one piece of bread in each, and then fill it!” you demonstrated, and then closed it, the two halves pressing together. The corners fell off and the edges sealed together, and you handing him the whole thing to toast over the fire. “Just rotate it for a few minutes and I promise it will be magical.” He did as you bid, the excitement overriding his initial shock.

As you promised, the pocket pie was wonderful, crunchy and buttery on the outside and soft and sweet on the inside. Frankie forgave you for the lack of s'mores after his first bite.

The evening wore on, and the of you were fools in love. You talked and laughed and for the first time in awhile, the rest of the world spun on without you. He pulled you close to his side, talking into your hair, and you cuddled into his chest.

When you began to yawn, you split up to clean, and get ready to head to bed. Maybe soon you’d stay out later under the stars but neither of you were in a hurry. The few days you had felt heavy with potential, like you could stretch them into eternity.

Frankie came into the tent after you, patting around in the darkness so he didn’t smush you.

“Junebug?” his voice was quiet, but filled with love.

“Here,” you responded, tone matching his. You felt him move closer before a kiss planted itself on the outside corner of you eye. You laughed, the sound making the tiny tent feel like a home.

“I missed, didn’t I?” Frankie’s voice was bashful this time.

“Yeah,” you said, before you felt another kiss on your nostril. You squeaked.

“Here, let me,” you said, hand finding his chest, floating in the darkness above you. You leaned up, only for your forehead to hit something hard.

You both made pained noises and pulled back.

“Okay wait,” you said and he stilled. You made little kissing noises with your mouth, puckering your lips. His laughter filled the moment as much as yours had before, but it didn’t take long before his mouth found yours. Finally, you were back in sync with each other. You sighed, and he deepened the kiss, lowering himself into the blankets.

“I love you,” he whispered, and you repeated it back to him, meaning every word. He kissed you one last time before he settled fully, pulling your body into his as much as he could. Your head found its place over his heart and you tossed one of your legs over his. His arms were wrapped around you, hands rubbing gently as the two of you listened to the sounds of wild life.

There was an owl nearby, and you were thankful it was something you could identify. You listened to its calls before you heart some thing else above you.

Frankie was making tiny kissing noises.

You knew he could feel your laughter more than hear it, but you leaned up anyway. Your lips met his, first try.

Taglist (??):

@fangirl-316

#francisco morales #francisco morales x reader #francisco morales x you #frankie x you #triple frontier #lowkey based on a true story #maybe i don't know people

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jawllines · 4 years

Note

Reminder to post werewolf 🤠

YOU ARE SO RIGHT!! HERE IS A WEREWOLF HARRY CHECK-IN CUTIE POTS

“You’re just a needy little pup, aren’t you?”

It was chilly out; October brought in a wind that kissed goosebumps onto her skin when she made her trek through to the woods after class. There weren’t many animals scurrying around in the colder months apart from a squirrel or two she might see, and there are seldom other humans roaming around out here considering there was no trail (and everyone, apparently, had always been put off by the woods here. . .something felt off to them, and Y/N knew exactly what it was). Nights came quicker, so if Y/N wanted to make it to the grounds before the moon rose and cast thin streams of light through the thick branches, she needed to leave just as soon as she’s gotten out of class (and she knew that Niall would come to get her if it really got too dark, but she still felt too guilty to make him come all the way for her, so she rarely asked him to).

And there was just something about the cold air, that made Harry the snuggliest little thing. Y/N doesn’t know if it’s because this is around the time they found one another and bonded two years ago, or if werewolves are warmblooded and prefer balmy summers as opposed to the glacial temperatures that they may be shown here. She’d never thought to ask because she didn’t necessarily need a reason for it. How cuddly Harry gets is nice, and how most days -- if time permitted it -- he would just saddle up beside her and they would warm one another. There are times that he suggests eating lunch outside when it’s fairly cold and Y/N thinks it’s only his elaborate ploy to have her cuddled against him. She thinks that part of him secretly likes when she’s cold because it means she seeks him out for warmth and Harry’s always up for warming her up.

(Once, while Harry was busy and Y/N had entered the grounds with Grandpa after a particularly snowy, frigid day, Niall was who she had gone to, to warm her -- he put his arm around her and sat her by the fire in one of the sitting rooms they had. They had been speaking idly about a new movie they were both interested in seeing when the door had just about been thrown from its hinges and Harry appeared, pouting, “Okay, thank you, Niall, I will warm her now.” Was his pleasant but rushed way of putting it, as he’d dropped to his knees, his brown curls flopped in his face before he flattened his stomach to the floor and wrapped his arms around her waist, dipping his nose into her tummy. Y/N and Niall both shared a chuckle as her fingers found his hair and carded through it gently, as Niall scooted over so Harry could curl his body inward while they continued speaking about the movie.)

Niall had once told her that Harry had never been this cozy with anyone before, even his first mate. The others would fill Niall in on bits and pieces that he had missed out on since he joined them a bit late, so they had told him how a few had always been skeptical on whether or not he and his prior mate were truly meant to be. When a werewolf mates and bonds with another, it is more than normal for them to be all over each other all the time, and not particularly in a sexual sense. They thrive off touch. . .off being with their person, and on their person, and cuddled, snuggled cozily with their person. Sure, he had been cuddly with his mate prior but nowhere near the amount that anyone had expected from him, especially considering how he was when he was younger, clinging to the people that he held precious to him. He would have his arm around her, give her kisses, but the PDA was often lacking.

With Y/N though, she’s sure if Harry could be a second skin to hers then he would be. Every moment of every minute that it was appropriate, Harry was wrapped around her, or had her wrapped around him; this is when he was most content. This is when Niall would ask for things (like for Harry to branch out and order them more TVs, specifically one for his room) and receive prompt results, or this might be when the pups are most willing to come and parade around his room even though they really aren’t meant to. He was in such a pleasant mood if he was in any way interlaced with her body.

She had only just recently convinced Harry not to usher Grandpa to the foot of the bed if Y/N was holding onto him in her sleep.

So she’s more than use to his cuddles, and she’s more than used to his pup like behavior, though he was particularly clingy today. It had been three days since she’d seen him last because she always made sure to distance herself some when she would be studying for an exam. Sometimes she let Harry come by her flat to help her go through flashcards, but he could be awfully distracting when he wanted to be and was still confused why she would continue working and going to school when she could simply live on the grounds with him and everything would be taken care of. Each answer to the flashcard was accompanied by an array of kisses peppered to her face, whether right or wrong, which just turned into a deepened kiss to the mouth, and more times than not, they would end up in her bed.

Which is why she took a few days to prepare for the exam and satiated him with video calls as she was getting ready for bed, where he pouted and whined about how he missed her but commended her for doing well in her studies. Though he did make her swear that she would give him extra amounts of attention when she saw him -- they pinky swore, which she had taught him how to do.

(She also knows that Niall had told him Y/N would spoil him in cuddles when he was pouty because Niall had gone out to see her so he could bring her a hot chocolate and pumpkin muffins, but he wouldn’t let Harry come as well.)

The unconditional love is something she revels in -- to have someone still so wholly love her as much as she loves them, had never been something Y/N was very privy to. It’s why she’s just as excited as Harry is after she’s finished her exam, and why her heart nearly jumps from her chest when she walks out of her lecture and Harry had greeted her outside with her favorite pastry from the cafe on campus. Y/N throws her arms around his neck and hugs him close, and Harry spins her around as theatrically as he could like it’d been months since they saw each other last. He peppers kisses upon kisses all over her cold cheeks, “I missed you, Darling,” he murmured, one of his kisses placed over her eye, “How did your test go? Was it well?”

“Yeah, I feel pretty good about it,” she smiles at him, “I’m glad you came to get me! I can show you the spot where the autumn flowers are growing now.”

Harry allowed her this little joy, despite how uncomfortable he sometimes felt around other humans. The tensions have eased the longer that he’s been with her, but Y/N can see how he squints his eyes and becomes the utmost disgruntled if anyone approaches them. He isn’t as short as he once was though and works to be much less domineering, but he still attempts to carry an air around him that suggests those who do decide to approach them have a good reason for it.

He muses with her about the flowers, even takes a picture with her in front of them with their cheeks smashed together. His face is rosy from the cold, which only spurs her to kiss his cheeks and the tip of his nose before she murmurs, “C’mon, let’s get you home and warmed up, hm?”

“You’re going to spoil me with cuddles, right? This was promised to me so that I leave you to your studies.”

“Yes, I’m going to spoil you rotten.”

Once they made it to the grounds, Harry surprised her with a picnic basket and an accompanied gingham blanket -- it was always a touch warmer within their little bubble than it was in the outside world, so it wasn’t too cold to have one. Especially with the sun beating down from the sky, the rays give kisses of warmth that make it bearable, and he packs an extra blanket for her, he tells her, so that if she gets cold he could swaddle her.

“Like a baby?”

“No, human babies frighten me, they scream. You do not frighten me.”

He sets it up for them, fanning out the first blanket which was large enough to have quite a few people sit on it. After he lowered to his knees, he placed the basket in the center and began to unearth what he’d packed for lunch. He makes sure to let her know that the chef let him run amuck in the kitchen to prepare it himself, with minimal help from the kitchen staff. Honey turkey wraps, warm loaves of freshly baked bread with strawberry marmalade to slather on each slice, pita chips with hummus (he had help making that, he admitted), the juiciest looking grapes and strawberries she thinks she’s ever seen, and three slices of blackberry ginger pie (he brought the third in case she wanted seconds).

It all looked delicious, and he made sure to set it out in a way aesthetically pleasing to the eye, “This way you can share pretty pictures as you do online. Make sure to add that I am the best mate in the world and I treat you so well.”

They ate until they were stuffed full, Y/N doesn’t think she’d ever been so completely and entirely pleased and full with a meal in her life. Both she and Harry lean into one another, but at the first sign of a shiver he is wrapping the second blanket around her and cuddling her close to his side, “Did you like it?” He asked her and Y/N sighed happily, nosing her way into his chest

“I loved it. Thank you so much, Puppy.”

All of it had started out so innocently; the way she caressed his skin, how he told her about his day, how they cuddled into each other closer. Maybe it was Y/N’s fault -- it probably was, actually, because she loved Harry’s full tummy even more than she loved being full herself. He was softer, more receptive to her touch if she lulled soft circles on his stomach with her palm and if she were lucky, he would fall asleep by it. Not that she didn’t want to spend time with him, but she loved the soft cooed snores that leave his mouth, and how peaceful he looks as he swims in whatever dream he’d found his footing in.

The innocence behind these rubs was recognized, but his prick had begun a noticeable bulge in his trousers that he appeared keen on ignoring. How they were arranged, Y/N had her legs open enough for him to fit comfortably between them with his head resting on her thigh. She skated soft caresses at first just over his shirt, but then to his bare skin once his shirt began to crinkle up and show the soft terrain beneath it. No matter how clearly his cock was hard, his eyes had fluttered shut and he hadn’t uttered a peep about it.

But Y/N was curious as she always is to get beneath his belt. No matter the number of times she’d seen it, she could never stifle the want to withdraw the zip of his trousers and reveal it to herself again. That’s why each little design she drew into his skin had gotten lower and lower, closer to the waistband of his pants until she was practically skimming the tips of her fingers just beneath it. Goosebumps riddle up in her wake and Harry shuffles slightly, his eyes fluttered like butterfly wings before he looked up at her, “I am sorry,” he murmured, his cheeks still a little rosy from the cold air, “I was trying very hard not to become aroused, but it proves to be difficult when you’re touching all over me, and you smell so good. . .and it’s been. . .it’s been so long, I --” he hisses in a breath when she dances her fingers lightly across the bump, “Oh, Darling.”

“You’re just a needy little pup, aren’t you?” Y/N teases him, letting her delicate touches move back toward his belly, “You want cuddles and kisses and for me to play with your cock, hm?”

Harry shudders, somehow wriggling even closer to her than he already managed to be, “I want everything,” he murmurs, “I just want you in any way I’m allowed.”

It was always interesting, seeing the big, bad alpha turn to putty in her palms. She never took it for granted, nor did she take advantage of him in this state. No, Y/N took extra good care of him and made sure he was happy and his desires satiated, just as he would do for her in whatever needy state she might find herself within. That’s why she’s so quick to carefully unbuckle the belt of his pants, the metal pieces clinking together as she pulls the straps undone. Once the pressure is relieved from around his waist, a soft little moan leaves his pink lip and it sends sparkles pirouetting through her body.

The button of his jeans is easy enough to slip from the buttonhole, and as she pulls the zip down and over his bulge, Harry holds onto her tighter. Y/N is just enamored with the blissed-out face he already holds before she had a chance to do much of anything -- she’s only releasing him from the confines of his trousers, and he looks like he could cum in mere seconds. His stamina was always impeccable, and if he really wanted to get hard multiple times in a night he could, which always made it a bit more fun. It also meant that if she wanted him to cum quickly, then the night wasn’t over, and that was just delightful.

And sometimes she wanted him to cum quickly. Sometimes she wanted to know that she just made him feel so good, he was so desperate that it was hard to stave off. It always brought a smile to her mouth, if they’d only been going at it a little while -- if she had him in her mouth or in her hand, and he moaned his warning of, “I’ll cum if we continue like this, Sweetheart, you’re going to make me cum so soon,” If anything, she never stopped -- she only doubled her efforts in order to make him burst.

“Budge up a bit,” she orders tentatively, and he raises his hips, helping her wiggle them down just a bit. They were far enough away from the grounds that nobody would disturb them, and Harry’s nose could spot someone’s scent from meters and meters away, so she felt no worry when his prick was uncovered. Stiff as glass, his tip ruddy and leaking down the side of the head, like it might be weeping for her attention. Y/N holds her palm out in front of his hand, “Get it wet.”

Harry flattens his tongue and licks fat stripes up her palm, slicking it with spit, pulling her fingers into his mouth salaciously sucking until she pushed the pad of her thumb to his chin and slid her fingers away from him, “Christ,” she murmured, giggling as she lowered her hand back to his cock, “You’re so good at that.”

He opens his mouth to respond but whatever he plans to say is lost around a moan -- low, guttural, and drawn as his knees bend; her fingers looped delicately around his prick and she squeezed gently. The weight of him in her hand always made glitter dance in her lower belly, stoking the flames of a fire that left her panties drenched through. And she knew he knew, by the way, his bottom lip is hidden between his teeth as she slipped her hands up and down the length of him. Her palm slides easily, with little friction as it glides against the smooth skin. He moans again, this time much louder as she focuses her hand in circular motions over the swollen head. It’s the kind of moan that gives her the best kind of goosebumps, that makes her pulsate and flush with heat all over.

But she likes to tease him, so she tuts her tongue and introduces the fingers that aren’t working him over to his mouth, “Shh, you’re loud,’ she murmured, stroking against his lips until they parted and she dipped her fingers back into his mouth, “Does it feel that good? That you can’t be quiet?”

“Mhm,” he whines pitifully, nodding, looking up to her from her lap with his eyes bright and green, reflecting off the sun that they bathed beneath. He strokes his tongue along her fingers as his hips buck helplessly into her hand, but Y/N fixes her grip at the bottom of the shaft.

“You wanna do the work?” She chides him gently, “If you wanna do the work then I’ll just hold my hand still and you can fuck into it all you like.”

He shakes his head quickly, “No,” he murmurs, “No, no, please, want you too --”

“Okay, okay,” she starts back up again, thumbing at his slit and watching as more drips down his prick -- he always leaks so much, “Sweet little thing, I’ll take care of you.”

She can feel him throb in her hand, his fingers bury in the fabric of her shirt at her sides as he continues to groan and whimper. His brows furrow as his back arches, and when Y/N does withdraw her fingers from his mouth again, she lowers it to his balls. They’re tight, swollen and full, and the sound that Harry makes -- Y/N hadn’t thought she could be anymore worked up than at that moment, but she was wrong. He was shameless when he felt good, and she couldn’t even keep up the act that she wanted him to be quiet. Not when he sounded like that. . .not when he was so incredibly desperate, and hard, and. . .”I will not last much longer,” he told her breathlessly, swallowing thickly, “I feel it -- I’m going to cum. . .I’m going to cum so hard.”

“Yeah?” She carefully kneads his balls in one palm, slipping her hand up and down his prick at a fast pace, and she can feel him stiffening in her lap, “You’re g’na make my hand a mess?”

Another whimpered moan makes her giggle, and soon after Harry throbs again in her palm, only this time it’s followed by thick ropes of cum that spurt from the tip. Some shoots up and falls against the blanket, some dribbled warm over her knuckles, and he trembles in her arms as she works him through it. He’s loud in his groans of her name, only muffled when he tilts his head against her thigh. As he comes down, his breathing bated and his cock softening in her hand, “You,” he began, huffing a breath, “You are too good to me.”

“Did I spoil you well enough?”

Harry takes one of the napkins that he had packed and holds her hand delicately in his own, cleaning her of his cum first and then takes care of his own mess, “I’ve been thoroughly spoiled, but I do wish for you to cuddle me quite a bit more.”

Y/N laughs brightly, shaking her head before bending down and he meets her by raising his forehead the rest of the way so her lips could meet his skin.

“Of course, Puppy.”

#blurb #or #BLURBS #SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG #Anonymous

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mari-beau · 3 years

Text

GIVE ME A REASON: PART FIVE -A Rogue One fanfic

I honestly don’t know this was going to take the detour it did, but hey, that’s fine. Anyway, Jyn is very confused about her attachment to Cassian, and his own messy feelings.

Also on AO3

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Title: Give Me A Reason: Part Five

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Characters: Jyn Erso POV, Cassian Andor

Pairing: Cassian/Jyn (mostly pre-ship?)

Spoilers: Rogue One; Episode IV A New Hope

Setting: Post-Rogue One AU (Cassian & Jyn live); Also during/post A New Hope

Warnings: Implied Bi!Cassian; References to Naked Times in the Shower; Characters being hot messes and confused about Feelings

Words: 3,226

Story Summary: Jyn’s entire universe has been turned on its head, so maybe she’s clinging a little too hard to the one thing she feels certain of (strangely enough) as she tries to figure out her place in the galaxy. And maybe she’s being a little overprotective of a wounded captain.

Also can be found on AO3.

The energy level in the large mess hall was an incongruous mix of highs and lows. Quite a number of people were congregated at various tables, but it wasn’t at capacity. Some groups were chattering away, with a happiness and lightness Jyn honestly couldn’t recall witnessing in anyone in a long, long time, on any planet or moon. But there were other groups, and individuals, that were quiet, lethargic, mostly just nursing cups of restorative drinks and pushing bland food around their plates. Hungover.

Jyn supposed that made sense. Either way, no one was really in a down mood. They were either still excited about the Great Victory, or suffering the consequences from being too excited about it the previous night.

Why did she feel like Cassian and herself were the mopiest pair in the entire mess hall? Yes, it was really gratifying to know that their suicide mission hadn’t been entirely in vain. They had more than succeeded, the plans had been transmitted to the rebels, and the rebels had used them to destroy the Death Star. But still… The feeling of loss weighed heavily on Jyn. And she sensed it was yet another burden laid on Cassian’s shoulders. In a vulnerable, pained moment, he’d told her that maybe it would’ve been better if she’d left him on Scarif when they’d miraculously been spared from the blastwave. And perhaps near the end there (what should’ve been the end), he’d embraced the release from his conscience as hard as he’d embraced her.

She understood. She’d felt the peace there on that beach, as well.

The thing was, she still felt it, with him. Even when filled with other confusing emotions, some of which he was the cause of, she still felt… content… even happy? Was this what happy felt like?

Well, no, maybe not this, not still half-mourning a father she’d lost decades ago but then lost again, mourning the loss of the friends she’d made in just a matter of a day but who had been truer than any others in her life, coming to terms with the guilt of leading so many on a suicide mission, which she then survived.

And Cassian had survived.

“I’ll get the food,” Jyn said after they’d found a table tucked in a corner and Cassian claimed the seat that allowed him to put his back to the wall. (Of course). Jyn would’ve chosen it herself, but she didn’t protest that she would be forced to sit with her back to the entire mess hall. He was rubbing at his leg. The memory of the surgical scars running down his hip and thigh, barely a week old, a fresh pink against olive skin, popped abruptly into her mind. She shoved them aside. “Is there anything specific you want?”

“No.” He was smiling even as he shook his head. “Beggars can’t be choosers. I’m not picky.”

“Me, neither.” Force, sometimes they were so much the same, their lives filled with the same sort of deprivation, that it hurt. It hurt to think of the little boy Cassian had been, not having a favorite food, because having food at all was something to be grateful for. Something Jyn had known herself, still knew, and would never unlearn her associated habits of eating too much (if given the opportunity) and too fast.

“I’ll be right back,” she said and headed towards the serving line.

A couple people stared as she added more than two helpings of everything to her tray, but she thought it was more out of shock over the disproportionate amount of food to her size than anger that she was maybe taking more than her share. By the time she’d collected enough to feed an entire unit of Wookies and headed back to Cassian, two humans in non-uniforms (which wasn’t uncommon for the rebels) had sat down at the table.

They were the type of people who took up more space than they needed. An amateurish attempt at intimidating others through establishing dominance. Jyn had learned to be more wary of those who drew no attention, who lurked in the shadows, who had unassuming appearances disguising a lethality the brazen could never hope to possess.

So it was really just instinct that had her assessing gaze passing over the two trying-too-hard-to-have-swagger rebels to the slight man sitting quietly in the corner. He was a killer, undeniably. But not by choice. And Jyn knew something she thought most didn’t remotely suspect; Cassian Andor was soft deep down inside. And every terrible thing he’d done tortured him. Which made him even more dangerous, especially to Jyn, who she feared may be the only one to have ever seen his vulnerability, his humanity. To everyone else, he was just some Rebel super-spy-assassin, a good little soldier.

He’d locked eyes with her, but neither of his companions had seemed to notice, instead going on about some miraculous feats of badassery during some mission or other.

“You’re in my seat,” Jyn said, interrupting the bigger of the pair mid-sentence.

The man who was easily twice her size froze, puffing himself up when he looked at her, not that he needed to with that bulk of muscle, but his first instinct was obviously to meet her firm tone with aggression. She knew the response of those who’d survived on the streets well. And even if this was no seedy back alley or dive, this was her territory. And she wasn’t going to be the one to back down.

“Am I?” Big man said.

Before Jyn could respond, Cassian’s quiet voice cut in.

“You are.”

The big man looked at the wounded captain and his entire demeanor changed. Apparently, the soldier knew Cassian for the dangerous creature he was.

After a brief moment in which the expression on Cassian’s face gave nothing away, Big Man’s attention returned to Jyn.

“Uh, sorry,” he said, vacating the chair. Setting the heavily-laden tray down, Jyn plopped into the spot opposite Casian as the big guy lumbered off to find another chair, seemingly to rejoin them. Ugh.

Jyn slid the tray across the table in front of Cassian, then dragged her chair to sit directly beside him. There was no way to lift any of the dishes off the tray without losing some of the impressive pile of food. They could share.

She reached across Cassian and grabbed some sort of bread roll and- oh, force, he smelled good, like the cleanser from the shower and freshly washed skin that was silky smooth except for the scars and- she shoved the roll in her mouth before she did something embarrassing like hop onto his lap and bury her face in his neck.

The very large rebel’s companion had remained at the table, and was staring. Yes, at Jyn, but also at Cassian, at the pair of them, at the pile of food she’d torn into but Casian was contemplating eating with an actual utensil like some sort of civilized person. And the man’s gaze dropped, but Jyn knew it wasn’t to assess her attributes, none were visible beneath the loose-fitting clothes she was wearing, Cassian’s clothes. Oh. Right.

“You must be Jyn Erso,” he said and held out a hand, which was surprisingly clean, so Jyn shoved the last bite of roll into her mouth and shook it. Firm but not too firm, and his dark brown eyes were surprisingly soft as they met her gaze, a little guarded and very curious. This one was obviously the more intelligent of the pair.

“That I am,” she said after swallowing the large piece of bread that threatened to lodge in her throat. “And you are…?”

“Oh,” he laughed self-consciously. He had a nice, easy going smile. “Sorry. Yeah. I’m Tarrek Zin.” His large friend returned with a chair. “And this is Utto.”

The giant known as Utto nodded, grunted in response, before sitting down in the chair that was obviously ill-equipped to handle his bulk. A man of even less words than the spy.

“And you’re… friends of Cassian?” she asked, trying not to appear too interested. Who were these people? Cassian didn’t have friends. Not that she’d known him all that long, but she was pretty certain the man was a resolute loner. Aside from K-2SO, who was lost to him now.

“Yes,” Tarrek said at the same time Cassian said, “No.”

She withheld her laughter because Tarrek Zin seemed genuinely a little hurt by the terse captain’s response.

“We’ve worked together before,” Cassian gave as further explanation. “They’re…”

“Freelance,” Tarrek said.

Cassian gave a little snort of laughter. “That’s one way to put it.” He took a larger bite of the mystery protein.

“Oh, what does that mean?” Now, Jyn was intrigued. They were an odd sort to find on a military base, even amongst the ragtag collection of rebels that formed the Alliance. They were both human, Jyn thought, although there could be a bit of something else in the big man, who was surprisingly not unattractive for a bruiser type, with thick brown hair and a symmetrical face with a square jaw and only a small crescent scar on one cheek. The smaller man was by no means small, taller than Cassian, well built with flawless brown skin and a friendly, appealing face with just a hint of scruff neatly trimmed into a goatee. And a charmer’s grin, which he turned on Jyn.

“We find things.”

Again, that ironic little half-laugh from Cassian, who finally looked up from the pile of food.

“They steal things,” he said, pointing his fork at them. “Don’t let Tarrek try to pretty it up. They’re nothing more than thieves.”

“So’s your girl, from what I hear,” Tarrek said. “Didn’t you all find her in Wobani, serving time for forgery and assault amongst many other crimes?”

“She’s not my girl,” Cassian said, not denying her criminal record. And Jyn would be lying if she claimed the denial that she was his girl didn’t hurt a little. Even though it shouldn’t. She wasn’t a possession. And neither was Cassian, so she could stop feeling possessive of him, as well, really-

“Then you’re a free agent?” Tarrek flashed that charming grin of his again, with an edge of mischievousness. And a bit of something else in his eyes as he lookd at Cassian. “Because with the Empire scrambling after the destruction of their favorite new toy, no one’s going to notice if some stray things get found. We could use your skills on at least a dozen different jobs I can think of…” Tarrek shot a brief glance to Jyn before returning his attention to Cassian. “And Not Your Girl for that matter.”

“I think I’ve made it very clear I will not be going on any jobs with you,” Cassian said. “Even if the Alliance thought we’d need someone with your skillset again for some reason, I’d find someone else.”

Oh, wow. That seemed a little harsh, even from the jaded captain. The hurt on Tarrek’s face was blatant, and he looked away. Jyn couldn’t help but think there was some sort of complicated history at play.

“May I…?” Utto asked, indicating the crispy poultry leg sitting near the edge of the tray, the big man oblivious to the undercurrents of the conversation.

“Uh… be my guest,” Jyn said and large, burly fingers snatched it right up. Unsurprisingly, the whole drumstick fit in the man’s mouth. He ate even faster than Jyn, chewing a bit then pulling the bare bone out, picked absolutely clean in less time than it took Cassian to cut another bite off the brick of vegetable-thing or whatever it was. Food. That’s all Jyn needed to know.

“Well, we better get going if we want to get a good seat at the ceremony, seeing as we’re not guests of honor,” Tarrek said, seeming to have recovered from the hurt feelings enough to tease. Cassian made a displeased noise but said nothing as Tarrek got to his feet and locked eyes with the rebel captain. Some sort of weird exchange passed between them, that seemed almost- “The offer always stands if you change your mind.”

“I won’t,” Cassian said, then went back to studiously eating.

Tarrek rolled his eyes but then gave Jyn a broad grin, leaning over to whisper loudly, “You think about it, too, Jyn Erso. Maybe you can convince the captain here not to throw his life away for the rebellion.”

Jyn just gave him a nod, disconcerted about the man’s extremely accurate knowledge of Cassian. Or maybe his unwavering loyalty was just that obvious.

“Let’s get out of here,” Tarrek said to his large companion, who appeared about Wookie-size when he stood up, only beefier.

Utto lingered a moment as his friend walked away, and Cassian frowned at him, that furrow forming between his brows. Jyn’s curiosity was also piqued as the moment stretched out awkwardly long, Utto’s fierce blue-grey gaze scouring Cassian’s face.

Cassian broke first, dropping his fork onto the tray with a clatter and sighing loudly.

“You have something you want to say, Utto?” he asked.

“You hurt Tarrek,” he said. “Don’t change your mind about joining us. Unless you mean it.”

“Understood,” Cassian said. “Is that all?”

“Yeah. That’s it.”

Utto glanced at Jyn, then gave Cassian another assessing look before grunting and shaking his head, then stalked off after his partner.

Cassian returned his attention to the food in front of him, like nothing had happened at all.

“What was that?” Jyn asked, her mind racing, trying to put everything she’d just witnessed into some sort of context.

“Nothing,” Cassian said. “Just two of many I’ve pissed off.”

“But they’re angry because they want you.” Jyn was pretty sure about what she’d just witnessed, albeit confusing.

“The Alliance used them to break into an Imperial facility. We were after intelligence stored there. Tarrek and Utto made out like the bandits they are by stealing the tech stored there and selling it on the black market. It was their most lucrative job ever. They still pick up odd smuggling tasks for the rebellion, but they want me to help them with more heist like that again.”

His face was closed off, but Jyn needed to know if she was right, needed for Cassian to continue to let her in, needed his trust and confidence.

“I get that,” she said, “but they want you… like physically. At least, Tarrek does.”

Cassian met her gaze, slowly closed his eyes, sighed and shook his head.

“I never should’ve kissed him.”

“Oh.” Well, that explained both the heat and the chill in Tarrek’s gaze when he looked at Cassian. Apparently, it hadn’t been just one-sided. And maybe she’d been reading Cassian’s looks, the way he touched her, all wrong. Maybe the intimacy they’d shared in the shower, naked but not uncomfortable, washing one another with tender caresses, had only held sexual undertones on her side. Maybe he wasn’t attracted to her in the same way she was to him. Maybe he- “You er… kiss males?”

“Sometimes,” he shrugged. “When it’s necessary to complete a mission.” He licked his lips. “Sometimes just because I want to.”

Jyn stared at the pile of green puree of what she hoped was a vegetable of some sort, trying to swallow down the stupid feelings clashing inside of her; jealousy and possessiveness, hurt, and even a little bit of titillation contemplating Cassian’s sexual history.

Long fingers skimmed the back of her hand and curled around hers, squeezing gently until she met those rich, dark eyes of his.

“Sometimes I kiss females, too.” He held her gaze so she resisted the urge to stare at his mouth.

“When it’s necessary to complete a mission?”

“And just because I want to.”

Did he want to? Jyn felt like he did, thought everything in the way he looked at her indicated a deep affection and need for her. But at the same time, she knew he wouldn’t, not here in a public place, not when he hadn’t even kissed her when they were alone. Not even when they were naked, standing under the spray of water, his hands buried in her hair, rinsing out the cleanser, her hands wrapped around his waist, helping to support his weight, her skin prickling with the closeness of his body, the caress of his fingers on her scalp, the feeling of his-

“We should get moving,” he said, releasing her hand to push his chair back and stand, looking only a little unsteady on his feet. “We need to find you some clothes that fit.”

“Why?” Jyn said, standing as well and brushing her hand over the front of the loose shirt. At least Cassian wasn’t an extremely large man, or else his clothes would fall right off her. As it was, she’d had to roll up the sleeves of his shirt and tuck as much as possible into the fatigues that she’d belted to cinch in at the waist, which would’ve been entirely hopeless if he wasn’t a lean man. She’d also had to roll up the hems to her ankles. She had no other option than the infirmary shoes. Okay, she looked ridiculous. But she didn’t care. The clothes smelled like Cassian and made her feel perpetually wrapped up in him.

“It’s not exactly fit for being presented to a princess.”

Cassian reached to pick up the tray, which Jyn felt a little bit of guilt for not having completely cleaned of its contents and wasting food, but there had been unforeseen interruptions. She grabbed it before he could, doubting his ability to walk and carry a laden tray a few days after major surgeries and with bones still healing. But had he said,

“Princess?! What princess?”

“Princess Leia will be hosting the ceremony.”

“Oh.” Jyn headed across the mess hall to bus the remains of their meal, perhaps moving a little too quickly for her wounded companion, a sort of panicky nervousness fluttering in her stomach as their potentially being the center of attention approached. It would be brief if they were, she tried to tell herself. The last time she’d been the center of the Alliance’s attention hadn’t gone well. Had, in point of fact, ended in a rogue suicide mission.

“You’ll be fine. She’s Bail Organa’s daughter. Sensible woman. Fierce.”

Jyn shoved the tray into the reclamation unit a little harder than necessary. “And how do you know her?”

Cassian laughed, light and genuine.

“I don’t know her, not personally.” His hand went to her shoulder, seemingly to guide her but she knew the request inherent in it and snaked her arm around his waist to let him lean a little of his weight on her. “Let’s see if we can track down your missing clothes.”

Jyn didn’t care if they couldn’t. Let the princess see her in Cassian’s clothes, let everyone think they were together. Because whether or not he kissed her, whether or not it was romantic, Cassian Andor was hers. Even if he sent her away and she never saw him again while she lived, he would always be hers.

Force, she needed to get a handle on this possessiveness. Because it owned her. He owned her.

His palm came to rest on the back of her neck as they left the mess and headed towards the storage and supply wing of the base. His thumb stroked along her nape and she leaned into him, relaxed as a Savarian cat being petted.

Dank farrik, did she ever belong to him.

#fic: give me a reason #Rogue One #fanfiction #rebelcaptain #Cassian x Jyn #Cassian Andor #Jyn Erso #my fic

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sylvain-writes · 4 years

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Doors Will Open (Donatello x Reader)

Rated: G

Gender Neutral Reader, pre-relationship, movie night, tenderness, cuddling, supportive brothers

You surprise Donnie with lembas bread for your Lord of the Rings movie night.

for @blancoluna

Donatello is holed up in his laboratory of mischief and oddities when you arrive at the lair bearing treats. But Mikey is there to greet you, jumping out of the Pit to graciously unload the deep tupperware of cookies from your hands.

His eyes twinkle as he leans in to stage whisper, “You’re my favorite, know that?”

April walks up behind him with a gasp of indignation. “I’m gone five minutes!”

“But, but...” He lifts the box in his defense, “Cookies!”

“Ooh.” April’s eyes go wide and warmth floods your cheeks at their enthusiasm. She rubs her hands together with delight. “Can I grab one for the road?” You nod, of course, encouraging her to take as many as she likes. “You’re my favorite too,” she says with a giddy bounce.

Your laughter draws Raphael and Leonardo from the tunnels, and your excitement for the evening mounts. Rising to your toes hopefully, you try to capture a glimpse of Donatello behind them. The tunnel, however, is otherwise empty. Your heart sinks just a little.

Everyone gathers in the kitchen, welcoming you and trying to convince April to stay, but with each passing minute, the absence of your best friend grows harder to ignore.

“Wheel of Time is in my bag,” you mention to Leo half-heartedly. It’s a book series he’s been begging to borrow for ages. You’re proud of yourself for remembering to bring it, and you don’t want to get distracted and forget.

“Thanks!” Leo unlatches your messenger bag immediately, diving into a confession that only serves to prove what a nerd he is. Apparently, he sped through the Lord of the Rings this week in his excitement for the weekend movie marathon. You nod along with an amused smile. You're usually overjoyed to have the fellow bookworm to talk to, but your attention keeps drifting to the empty tunnels.

A lull in his rambling gives you an opportunity to ask, “Is Donnie coming?” You have trouble meeting Leo's eyes, but you try your best to keep the question sounding casual and light. You don’t want Leo, Raph, Mikey, or April to feel like you don’t value their company, but you brought down supplies for Movie Night under the impression Donatello would be joining in; you don’t want to start without him.

“Oh, I’ll get that knucklehead,” Leo says, stacking the books to carry. “He probably just lost track of time.”

Turning from Mikey's final, futile plea for April to stay, Leo heads toward his room to drop off the books, then to the workshop to gather their missing brother.

The muted sounds of tools and machinery come through the heavy door in clanks and whirrs. But Leo knows Donnie won't mind the intrusion. He raps a knuckle against the small frosted window and gives his brother a shout.

Donatello raises his voice over the buzz of a circular saw to ask, “Emergency?” But the sound of the blade cutting through metal continues without pause.

“No.” Leo won’t lie. He won’t test Donnie’s nerves with trickery, not even when the reveal is something his brother has been looking forward to all week.

“Password?” Donnie counters next.

Leo screws up his face, searching his memories for the right answer. “I don’t know, dude. There’s cookies? And, like, ten hours of movies, so-”

The saw goes silent before the 'shop door opens with a snap. Leo takes a step back to give his brother room.

Donnie’s face pops through the gap, his eyes looking unnaturally large through the magnifying lenses perched atop his beak. “What day is it?”

“Uh, Friday.”

“Y/N is here?”

Leo's exasperated answer hisses through the tunnel. "Yes."

Donatello lets the door swing wide as he pulls off his goggles and hangs them on their hook. “Why didn’t you start with that?” he asks as he tidies up his station. His hands fly over the tables, reorganizing the space for his return. He fumbles his wrenches into their case in his rush. "How long have they been here? Why didn't anyone get me sooner?"

Leo doesn’t hide his grin, so happy to see Donnie this close to admitting his crush. “Oh, so they’re the password, huh?”

Donatello’s blush starts at his neck and rises up to his ears. “That’s not…” He gives a little huff as he rolls his tool cart to its place against the wall. “Shut up, Leo.”

Slinging an arm around Donnie's neck, Leo drags him into the hall. He grinds his knuckles over his little brother's head with a light chuckle. Though Donnie easily squirms free, Leo knocks him with a shoulder, a tease and a mark of support.

At first, Leo had been reticent to encourage his brother's feelings for you, but over time it's become obvious that Donnie’s affections are far from one-sided. Being what they are, that came as somewhat of a shock to him, but it was the best kind of surprise.

Donnie's lucky to have you in his life. And Leo hopes that one day soon, the two of you will get your acts together. It's about time you two admit just how happy the other makes you.

You're picking at the edge of the countertop, stomach in knots, when you hear the echo of footsteps draw near. Leo and Donnie enter the main living space pushing and shoving, but there's not a hint of anger on their squabble. Laughter stretches their smiles wide.

You bite your lips together, anticipating the moment when Donatello finds you. There's become a shared second of pause when you meet, though you don't know when that began. You try to prepare yourself for it each time, but it always leaves you breathless.

When Donatello’s eyes fall on you, his laughter peters out and his smile goes soft. Your lungs ache with the breath you've forgotten to release until Donatello breaks the spell. "I was told there would be cookies?"

You gesture to the box, hoping the slight tremor in your hand isn't obvious. "Lembas, actually." It's silly, your newly developed nervousness around him. Donnie is the person with whom you feel safest, most free to be yourself. He's your best friend in the world.

Your crush on him shouldn't change that. But it does. It could change everything.

Donatello's eyes slide to the box and his jaw drops comically. "Are you kidding me? How did you-? Why did-?" His long strides bring him to the table before he has a chance to form a full sentence.

"It's our weekend," you say. A blush colors your cheeks as you catch your choice of phrase. "I mean, Lord of the Rings weekend. Remember?" You fiddle with the ring hanging from your neck, your fingers running back and forth over the elvish script.

"I didn't. I do now! I didn't realize it was Friday until Leo… But Lembas!" He's probably the biggest nerd of you all.

"Go ahead." The mess of crumbs on the counter is evidence Raph and Mikey have grabbed their share. Thankfully, they left some for the rest of you.

Leo skirts around you to take a cookie for himself while Donatello inspects his square of pastry with care. Turning it over in his hands, Donnie hums. "It smells like citrus and almond."

"There's lavender too," you supply gently. It took a few tries and a few tweaks of the recipe you found to get it just right, but you're quite proud of the end result.

"Yeah," he gives a slow nod. "And lavender. I was getting to that." He looks at you in awe. "This is really… it's so cool."

"You didn't even try it." Your racing heart switches gears from nervousness to anticipation for Donnie to have a taste.

"Oh, right." Donatello takes his first bite, follows it quickly with a second, and the cookie is gone. "Wow." Crumbs fall from his lips and you chuckle at his enthusiasm.

"I can make more," you offer as he reaches for another, "if you guys like them so much."

Donnie nods and drops his gaze as he seems to consider it. "...maybe you can make them here," he says finally. "With me, y'know? Show me how it's done."

Your blush returns at the suggestion and you find yourself hesitant to agree to the plan.

Donatello's eyes blink wide and his almost pout is irresistible as always. You can't fathom why you'd give up the chance to be the one teaching Donatello something for once.

With a leap of your heart, you give in. "Yeah, of course. We can swing by my place later and grab the stuff. Could be fun."

"Could be," he agrees quietly.

Donnie meets your eyes again and the moment of stillness between you stretches long--

Until Raphael speaks up from the couch with an exaggerated groan. "Can ya please get over here already? There's a whole mess of movies waitin' for us and you're busy yappin'."

Donatello grabs the box of cookies and rummages through the cabinet for Pop-Tarts while you make your way over to the TV. Of course, not even lembas can fill his appetite for sweet pastry.

In the Pit, the lighting is dim. Title screen music rises and falls, drawing you into the fantasy world of Middle Earth.

Leo has taken a seat atop the back of the couch to give Raph and Mikey room on the cushions below. At the sight of your approach, Mikey scoots toward his brothers to make you a place by the armrest.

It's a comfortable fit, even for your favorite position, sitting with your legs pulled up, criss cross. But when Donnie comes in, there's no real room for him. He doesn't seem to mind. He places the plate of lembas and box of Pop-Tarts on the coffee table. Then, without hesitation, he takes a seat on the floor in front of you.

Mikey starts up the movie and the epilogue scenes cast the room in shadows and flashes of light. Donatello settles in against your legs and everyone's eyes focus on the screen.

The film plays and the temptation to reach toward Donatello increases with his every shift. Though he hasn't complained, you think he must be uncomfortable down on the floor. If nothing else, the way he rolls his shoulders probably means he's feeling stiff.

It's dark enough, you could lay your hands on his shoulders, work the knots out of his muscles and neck, without attracting the attention of his brothers. But you don't. As you indulge yourself in fantasy, Donatello shifts once more. He slides into position between your knees and the tails of his bandana catch on the hem of your jeans.

You stare for a moment, unsure if you're allowed to touch. Then, Donnie leans back and smiles up at you and you could swear your heart stops. It only lasts a second before his eyes return to the screen, but it fills you with comfort, confidence, and calm.

Careful not to tug, you take the tails of his mask in hand and lay the long strips of cloth over your lap. With steady passes, the fabric runs through your fingers. It's soft and worn. Stained and fraying on the ends. The movie plays on, but as far as you're concerned there's only this.

You twist the tails of Donnie's mask around your fingers. You tie them into loose knots, losing yourself in the quiet intimacy of having Donatello so close.

Donnie tips his head to the side as you play, turning his body just enough that he can rest his head on your knee.

You bend at the waist and drop your voice as quiet as it can go to avoid being overheard by the others. "You OK?"

Donatello nods, nuzzling his cheek against your knee just enough for you to notice. "It's nice," he says, and you drag the tails of his bandana through your fingers again.

As you sit up, you spare a glance at his brothers. Raph and Leo are sitting forward, elbows on their knees, enraptured by Arwen's race on horseback. But Mikey's watching you through the corner of his eye. He gives you a small, knowing smile before turning his attention back to the screen.

When it's time to switch DVDs, everyone agrees it's time for a stretch.

Donnie's the first one back to the Pit. And he takes it upon himself to lie across all three cushions of the couch with a lazy grin. Mikey doesn't even bother with him, ducking out to meet up with April and leaving his older brothers to fend for spots on the broken recliner and floor.

Donatello makes grabby hands as you return from the kitchen with a pair of sodas. You think he'll sit up, make some room. But to your surprise, Donatello exaggerates his sprawl. He takes the drinks and places them on the floor, then extends his hands toward you again.

You only have a second to register his request before he takes your hand in his and gently pulls you onto the couch with him.

Cuddled up between the couch and your back, Donatello gives a little shimmy and a wistful sigh.

Your heart is racing and you're tingling from your hands to your toes, but fitting against the curves of Donatello's bent knees and soft embrace takes no thought at all. And once you're there, you can't imagine ever wanting to leave.

The second Fellowship DVD comes to an end, and Donatello's breath tickles your neck, "One more?"

You shrug into the feeling of his words ghosting over your skin. "I'll fall asleep," you admit regretfully. You're so comfortable in his arms, you don't want to go home. But it's precisely that warmth and safety that are making it so hard to stay awake.

"I won't make fun of you if you snore," Donnie teases. There's soft pressure on your scalp and you're sure that's the feeling of him snuggling into your hair.

"I make no promises," Raph chimes in from the recliner. You'd long since forgotten you had company. The sound of his voice should come as a shock, should have you scrambling out of Donnie's arms. But it's only Raph, and he's picking on you the same as always. And there's a kind of approval in that -- the kind you never dreamed of receiving.

You try to shoot him a scowl, but you're grinning because you can't help it.

You were right about having difficulty staying awake. The film isn't on for five minutes before your eyes drift closed.

"Are you asleep?"

"Still listening," you mumble dreamily. Donatello's arms tighten around you and his chin tucks over your head. It's enough to send you adrift into a deep and peaceful sleep.

You wake up in the morning alone but wrapped in a purple knitted blanket you recognize from Donnie's room. You pull it snug around your shoulders as you sit up to check your phone. There's a text from your roommate and emails that can be ignored, but one notification stands out. You touch the media message from Raphael.

Though you roll your eyes at the blurry thumbnail, your curiosity has you pressing play. The video is only 20 seconds, anyway.

It loads immediately and the image clears. You smile at the closeup of Donatello asleep on the couch. The audio is low but you can clearly make out the snuffling rise and fall of his snores. You allow yourself a little laugh as you watch the video play through again. And you don't miss the way Raphael panned to show you and Donnie together dozing comfortably -- your limbs entangled and your face tucked into the crook of his neck.

You're unsure where you two stand and where your relationship will go, but your stomach is full of butterflies and your heart is content.

"Did you sleep OK?" Donnie asks as he comes in from the kitchen. He's brought tea and toast -- a simple but sweet gesture.

You take a moment to enjoy the sight of him bringing you breakfast 'in bed' and tuck your phone away with a smile. "I slept great."

#TMNT x reader #Donatello x Reader #Donnie x reader #gender neutral reader #nonbinary reader #prompt fill #request fill

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katefiction · 3 years

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The one where it has to be special by Letícia (cambridgepride)

A new smut written by @cambridgepride. Translated by Google Translate, corrections by myself. Original Portuguese version is on her blog!

Hello!

Remembering that this is adult content.

That's how I imagine what Will and Kate's first time might have been like. There are some little dramas in the story that are just fiction, I just wrote it to give the story a plot.

I hope you enjoy and enjoy reading.

Leticia x

William and Kate had been in a relationship for some time, they loved spending time together, watching movies, talking for hours on end or just in comfortable silence and whenever an opportunity arose they had their moments of intimacy, affectionate exchanges, long kisses in love and silly hands all over each other's bodies, but Kate always stopped when she realized that lust was speaking louder than her passionate heart.

Afraid that William would think she didn't want him, she revealed to him that she wanted him so much, but she wanted their “first time” to be special and not rushed into in the heat of the moment.

William, a gentleman that he is, was understanding and lovingly respectful of his Kate.

He wanted to take their relationship a step further and knew that with Kate it had to be special, if that was what she wanted then that was how he was going to do it.

Taking advantage of the Saturday they would both be alone in the apartment, he decided that the time would be right, he would take the initiative.

He arranged a dinner with Kate, but he didn't tell her what it would be like because he wanted to surprise her, so he just told her “Look beautiful for me, I've booked a special night for us” and she gladly accepted.

William had no cooking skills, he even thought of a romantic dinner at the restaurant, but he didn't want his special night to be marred by paparazzi or be in the papers the next day, so he decided to do something simple so he wouldn't end up with them in headlines of newspapers and not even with him almost burning the kitchen as it happened before.

As they shared an apartment with other friends, he decided to do everything in his room so that he would not be asked what he was preparing and that he would end up spoiling the surprise. When night fell, her friends left for another Saturday party in a pub and Kate finally arrived.

A small table in the corner right next to the open window had some food available for the couple such as cheeses, breads, various fruits, a pitcher of water, a bottle of wine and whiskey. Facing the curtained window was the large and apparently very comfortable bed.

Kate walked over and gently touched the sheets of pure silk that covered and soon imagined how that fabric would feel against her bare skin… She was holding a glass of wine and William a glass of whiskey and his favorite songs played in the background.

- I hope that you enjoyed. - William said, taking her out of her thoughts. She turned to look at him and registered the slight blush on his face, he was nervous as he had been the day they exchanged their first kiss, embarrassed that he felt so excited just touching her. But the truth was, she also wanted him so much… And she looked forward to that moment.

When William and Kate thought they had talked, drank and ate enough, her eyes sparkled at him making it clear that now would be the time to take their relationship one step further.

She approached him slowly and touched his face, admiring his clenched jaw, the slight flush in his face and his very blue and bright eyes, the blond hair that she soon found she loved to stroke. And so she did, receiving an appreciative smile from the man, who joined his forehead to hers, making contact more and more inevitable, his blue eyes never leaving the green ones.

– You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. – He muttered delightedly.

– How can you be so sure, mr. Wales? Kate laughed, her eyebrow raised.

- You have a stunning beauty, but what is most beautiful in you is your heart . - He finished and put his lips to hers in a slow kiss, but hot enough to fan the flame that had already been born between them.

They allowed themselves to explore each other, Kate's hands making a home on the back of the man's neck, stroking his hair as he let his left arm encircle her small waist, pulling her closer and making their bodies stay tight glued together and his right hand came up, cradling the side of her neck gently but firmly. The touch of his lips and his warm, velvety tongue was too intense and she couldn't contain the soft sound of pleasure that escaped her when the kiss ended, but he kept his forehead pressed to hers, both of them panting as if they'd run miles . When she opened her eyes, she saw that his were burning in a desire he held back with immense difficulty and she almost fell apart right there under the weight of that gaze, but then he remembered that they should at least get rid of so many clothes if they wanted to do anything. So she lifted her hands, lightly running her fingers through the strands of her hair, and turned her back to him.

– Can you help me with this dress? – She muttered and he didn't refuse. It dislodged button by button down her back that ran from her neck to just below her waist, pushed the sleeves off her shoulders, and the dress fell at her feet. She pushed the fabric with her foot and turned to face him again, letting him admire the slender figure covered only by a single piece of white satin with spaghetti straps that showed the shape of her small breasts and went up a little above. halfway up her thighs, it was so short. William once again looked at her with that hunger in his eyes and she wanted to succumb to that desire...

- Your turn. – She muttered and walked over to push his suit off his shoulders. Two pairs of hands moved quickly to free him from his clothes, until only the half-open shirt was left.

They admired each other for long minutes until William reached up and gently touched the curve between Kate's neck and collarbone, down to her shoulder, where the thin strap of her babydoll gave way, exposing one breast to the warm spring air that rushed in. through the open bedroom window. He slowly lowered his hand over her breast, feeling her nipple instantly react against his palm. When he cupped the curve of her beautiful chest and held it gently and firmly and Kate closed her eyes, sighing with desire, he couldn't resist any longer; again he encircled her waist with his arm, pulling her towards him more abruptly than he intended, and captured her mouth in a fiery kiss, invading her mouth with his tongue.

Her legs weakened under the weight of the lust of that moment, and in just a few steps, with William pushing her slowly, they tumbled onto the bed, William hovering over her, bracing himself on his arms resting on either side of her head. By now Kate could barely contain herself, lifting her hips against him and encircling his waist with her legs. Noticing her anxiety, William gripped the only missing piece on either side of her hips and pulled it over her head, leaving Kate naked for the heat of his gaze.

He admired the stunning beauty of her nudity for several minutes, registering the curve of her breasts and the pink tips of her nipples, the thin, if not so well defined, abdomen, the ripe thighs and the dark curls that graced her sex. Not in his best dreams would he imagine having such a beautiful girlfriend, a woman so dedicated in her studies, so brave and so willing to give in to his most lustful desires. And now she was there, all given to him...

'Will…' She muttered, sighing, and once again their eyes met. He wanted to be inside her and commit with her all the most indecent sins that crossed his mind at that moment, but he wanted to make that night the most special of their lives and if he was going to make love to that woman, he was going to do it right. Then when their eyes met he gently touched her face and made that statement for the second time that night.

– I love you, Kate. - And once again kissed her devoutly. Tongues explored feverishly and she helped him shed the remaining garment, leaving them both gloriously naked.

William wasted no time and soon began an audacious exploration of her body, putting his mouth to her neck in kisses and licks that quickly travelled down her collarbone and breastbone. He let his lips trail over her skin until he cupped a soft breast in his mouth and suckled greedily, making Kate moan shamelessly and weave her fingers into his hair in an attempt to pull him even closer. But it was when he licked her nipple and then pulled it gently between his teeth that she lost herself in pleasure and felt that characteristic heat between her thighs intensify, making her even wetter with desire. He was so good to her…

William's mouth didn't leave her skin for a second, traveling a path down her abdomen and exploring the insides of her thighs, with every kiss, every lick Kate felt as if her skin was being scarred by fire, a fire whose heat only it grew and reached its peak when she felt his mouth welcome the wetness of her opening. When William's tongue bathed the swollen, wet lips of her slit she moaned in surprise and spread her legs apart, offering herself even more fully to his ministrations, and when he sucked the bud of her clit between her lips she moaned even more she brazenly named him and shook her hips against his face. He felt her getting closer and closer, moaning his name frantically as if he were the anchor that held her to keep from sinking, yet he didn't stop working enthusiastically until he felt her melt on his tongue, her thighs spasming and trembling around his head until she sank down onto the mattress, her body wracked with exhaustion after her intense orgasm. He licked the last remnants of her release and worked his way back up with his mouth until their lips met again. She could taste her own on his tongue, which rekindled the fire inside her.

'Will…please…' She whispered against his mouth and deftly lifted a leg to encircle his waist and pull him closer. William moaned at the feel of her slick and wet against his rigid flesh.

He pulled back briefly only to regain eye contact and take her hand, guiding himself to her receptive entrance. – If you feel any discomfort, tell me and I'll stop immediately, okay?

Kate nodded and touched his face tenderly. - I know you would never hurt me on purpose.

Then, in a slow, smooth stroke, he entered her, watching for any expression on her face that indicated pain, which didn't come. Kate sighed and closed her eyes as he lodged himself completely inside her, and there it took William a lot of self-control not to give vent to the lust he felt in that moment at the feel of her silky walls squeezing him so deliciously. He just stood there, allowing her to get used to his intrusion until she opened her eyes and once again nodded.

“Move, please…” And he happily complied with her request, but not before slipping a hand out to find hers and intertwining their fingers, making that connection even more intimate.

Kate smiled tenderly as she felt the warm palm of his hand covering hers and pulled him in for one more kiss as he withdrew almost completely from her only to gently refill her.

However, the smooth movements grew stronger and more erratic, held back only briefly by William's fear of hurting her, but Kate didn't seem to feel an ounce of pain, quite the opposite: the expression was pure ecstasy, her eyes fixed on him, her lips parted, moaning, driving him mad… It was the permission he needed to get carried away: William dug his fingers into the succulent skin of her hips and pulled her against him, penetrating her even more furiously. Then she felt an entire constellation explode through her closed eyelids in the second orgasm he gave her that night and, without even trying to resist any longer, he gave in to release along with her.

Kate couldn't sleep. Not that she had rested all day, quite the opposite. Your day was very busy, with so many things to do. But the ultimate consummation of their relationship that had just taken place left her quite energized and sleepless, unlike him, who succumbed to sleep almost immediately after pouring himself into her.

It reminded her of the first time she was with a man a few years ago, Harry Blakelock, he seemed particularly enchanted by her beauty and relentlessly urged her to accept dinner with him until she decided to go, much encouraged by Pippa, who always said she deserved to have fun and date a little more. The two followed a series of dinners and lunches together until he managed to steal a kiss here and there… And then, one day he managed to convince her to visit his apartment.

At first Kate enjoyed the feeling of being sexually aroused by someone, feeling wanted… but Blakelock didn't seem to know how to manage things very well; not that he was new to the whole thing though… He seemed to lose control, especially after he managed to be inside her, and by the time she found herself he had already reached his climax without making sure if she liked it too or not and he immediately began to snore beside her while she felt particularly sore emotionally and physically.

After this episode followed a long period of embarrassment between the two; Blakelock no longer asked her out on a date and often even seemed to avoid bumping into her in Italy. A short time later, he left and Kate never saw him again. The fact that she never really developed deep feelings for Harry made things easier, which doesn't mean she wasn't, at least a little upset.

After Harry, Kate dedicated herself even more to her studies, which did not allow her to waste time with frivolities like men and dating, however she maintained such sexual activities, even though it had been a while since she had such activities, her last relationship had been with Rupert Finch, until she bumped into a certain eccentric prince in the corridors of the University of St Andrews. The Prince who was now in bed, naked as he had come into the world and sleeping peacefully.

Despite this, Kate realized that she didn't mind that William slept immediately after making love to her, because just before falling asleep he caressed her nonstop and his hand only stopped touching her skin once he slept soundly. Besides, he was William, her man and the love of her life, and unlike the first time she was intimate with someone, Kate watched William fall asleep, an adoring smile adorning her face as she registered every detail in her mind. of her face and her naked body and her heart almost exploded with love.

Kate thought it hadn't been that long as she stared into the moonlight and smiled at her own thoughts, until she felt two strong arms encircle her from behind and she gave a start. William laughed huskily behind her.

– Sorry love… I didn't want to scare you.

Kate laughed back. – Was the nap good?

'Yes…' He grunted in response. – But it would have been much better with my girlfriend in my arms…

“Sorry, honey.” She leaned her head closer against his shoulder, leaving her neck exposed to his lips. - I could not sleep.

He turned her to face him and she immediately put her arms around his neck, not before noticing that William hadn't bothered to wear anything; he was still as naked as before.

– And what can we do about it? – He asked, a sly smile hovering on his lips and his hand running over the skin of her thigh, partially covered by the short robe she wore. That simple touch was enough for her mind to produce images of that hand in other more sensitive parts of her body… If she didn't know that she loved him so deeply, Kate would accuse him of using some kind of magic on her, because it was amazing to the way her body reacted to his thrusts, leaving her wet at the mere thought of having him.

In response, she let her hands undo the loop that closed the robe and pushed it over her shoulders so that the thin fabric fell at her feet, leaving her naked again. William engulfed her with his gaze, the blue of his irises almost completely taken by the green of his pupil, his eyes scanning every detail of her pale creamy skin as she lowered her gaze and found the erection already standing out against his body, made an exaggerated exclamation, ready and waiting to be useful.

The attraction between them was too intense to resist and they both moved forward at the same time, his mouth quickly taking possession of hers; her nails gently scraping the skin of his shoulders and he let his hands run over her buttocks until they reached just below them and gripped her legs, positioning each one around his waist so that Kate snuggled into his lap, her heels crossed on his back. So he carried her back to bed, ready to love his girlfriend again.

There he hovered over her once more, however, in a nimble movement, Kate straddled his thighs, sitting on top of him. William let out a surprised but appreciative exclamation that, with her on top, he could touch her even more fully and immediately he did, his hands running over her thighs and hips and up to her waist and framing her beautiful breasts. Kate moaned at the feel of his hands caressing her breasts and let her hand find the erect member, making William hiss deliciously in response. She dragged his swollen head between the dripping folds of her opening, gathering moisture, before letting herself slowly sink in until she was fully seated on him.

The two of them moaned in unison when William finally filled her and he sat up, with Kate still in his lap, and hugged her tight, in an almost desperate need to feel her as close as possible. Then, as they adjusted to the intrusion, she initiated a slow movement with her hips, eliciting a pleasant sigh from William. They opened their eyes and once again resumed eye contact, this time Kate brought her forehead to his as they moved slowly and smoothly. William watched his beloved in complete adoration as she smiled tenderly at him, completely absorbed in the beauty of that gaze, the luminescence in her skin, the lust in her body. He returned the smile while still looking deep into her green irises, with the thought that if he died right then, he would definitely die happy.

– Love… – he whispered against her mouth – You are the love of my life…

He noticed her eyes immediately water in reaction to that statement and he wiped them from the corners of her eyes.

– Shhhh love, I didn't mean to make you sad…

She shook her head vehemently: 'They are tears of happiness…' She brought their lips together in a brief kiss. - Pure happiness…

So they continued, but soon they realized that slowness and subtlety would not be enough to bring them to climax. Then suddenly Kate pulled away from William's captive embrace and planted her palms and hands on the mattress, her hands behind her back for support. Now she was moving up and down on him, literally riding on top of him.

- Ah yes! William moaned loudly as she began to move on him again. Kate moaned back, her lip caught between her teeth, lost in the delicious sensation of the slide of every inch inside her.

Still, through the haze of lust he was in, William realized that Kate needed something else to finally reach orgasm. He was too close, it wouldn't take long, but he desperately wanted to come along with her and then he remembered the sensitivity of her breasts. He immediately bent over, cupped her breast, and teased her hard nipple with his tongue as his fingers explored the short curls of her sex for the sensitive nub that undid her in pleasure. When she found him, the result was no different: she hugged him again, pulled his hair and announced her release in a shriek that undid him on the spot, and William moaned as he poured every drop of his orgasm inside her.

Kate blinked at the strong light coming in through the open window and felt her body slowly wake up. When she noticed an arm encircling her waist possessively she smiled, feeling her man wake up too, nestled behind her.

“Good morning,” she muttered happily.

“Good morning.” He smiled when she turned around. - Hungry?

She nodded and he promptly got up in order to prepare a hearty breakfast, but his girlfriend pulled him back, smiling mischievously.

– I want breakfast in bed …

Grinning like a madman, it didn't even occur to William to deny that request. May God have mercy on me… was his last thought before he lost himself in the heady taste of her mouth.

#cambridgepride #royal fanfiction #smut #mature

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wholesomemendes · 4 years

Note

what about shawn buying his wife lingerie

Author’s Note: Wow, me actually finishing a request, what? I’m sorry this took so long, but I actually kinda like how this turned out. There’s no actual smut in here, though it is steamier than anything I’ve written so I hope you guys like it! As always, feedback is much appreciated!

The smell of candles created a calming aroma that was in complete opposition to the bundle of excitement threatening to burst out of your chest. After four long months Shawn was finally coming back from the first leg of his tour and you could hardly wait, wanting nothing more than to have him back in your arms and place a kiss on his always soft lips. You had set up the kitchen table all nice and fancy, even going as far as to make his favorite dinner so it would be ready by the time he got home from the airport. Shawn had insisted that you didn’t pick him up yourself no matter how much you wanted to because it was always a lot of commotion with fans when you were there with him and since it was the end of tour, you both knew that many of his fans would be waiting for his arrival. You understood of course and even though you wanted to sprint into your husband’s arms the second his feet hit Toronto ground, you stayed home as he requested, instead making yourself busy in order to distract yourself from looking at your phone every two minutes hoping for an update from him. John Mayer’s Slow Dancing in a Burning Room filled the kitchen as you danced around slowly, imagining that Shawn was there singing it in your ear like he always loved to do. You were so lost in your thoughts, you hardly noticed the front door opening until a soft voice filled the room, “Y/n? I’m home.” A wide smile broke out across your face before you were racing into his arms, jumping into them and wrapping your body around him like a koala. A deep chuckle escaped his lips as he pressed light kisses to your hair, “Missed you so much, baby. Didn’t think I was gonna last one more day without seeing you.”

“I missed you so so much,” you told him, eyes beginning to water from how happy you were to be able to hold him again, “Please don’t leave me for that long ever again.”

“I won’t, I promise, that was far too long. Gonna make sure there’s more breaks next time so I can come home to see my girl.” One of his arms moved from where they were supporting your legs around his waist to lightly pull your head back to look at him, immediately noticing the tears welling up in your eyes. “Baby,” he cooed, wiping them away carefully and cupping your cheek, “No need to cry, I’m right here.”

“I’m sorry, it’s just...I missed you so much and I’m so happy that you’re home again.”

“That’s right, I’m back home where I belong and I’m all yours.” He pressed his lips to yours in a sweet kiss that you immediately deepened, craving the taste of him that you had been so desperately missing. It felt like you were whole again after kissing him, for a part of you always traveled wherever Shawn goes. The sound of the timer going off broke you apart and you groaned, begrudgingly sliding out of his hold to grab the bread out of the oven. You maneuvered around the kitchen, placing various plates out to organize all of the food, a smile gracing your lips when you felt your husband move behind you. Your face heated up in a blush when his lips began to trail up your shoulder to your jaw, never failing to amaze you how after 5 years of being with Shawn, he still managed to give you butterflies in your stomach over the simplest things. “Whatcha making there, pretty girl?”

“Just that gluten-free pasta you really like.”

“The one where you make the sauce out of those white beans?”

“Mhm, that’s the one.”

“God,” he groaned into your ear, his grip on your hips tightening, “My sexy ass wife is making my favorite dinner? I’m truly the luckiest man alive.”

“Shut up,” you laughed as you tried to fight the blush off your cheeks, earning a teasing bite to your ear from Shawn. You swatted at his chest lightly to push him away while you focused on placing the food on their respective dishes, “Why don’t you help your sexy ass wife bring the food to the table?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He placed a quick peck on your cheek before grabbing the plate in front of you and heading to the table. The two of you spent dinner sharing the stories you didn’t tell each other over the phone and you enjoyed every second that you got to listen to all of the insane moments Shawn experienced on tour. You loved the way his eyes lit up every time he talked about tour, especially when he talked about all of the fans he was able to meet and hear sing back to him every night. As much as you wanted to be selfish and keep him all to yourself, you knew you would never take away one of the things that brought him so much happiness. When your plates were empty and your stomachs became full, you both headed towards the kitchen, placing all of the dirty dishes into the sink. Before you could even think about grabbing the sponge to start cleaning the mess, Shawn already had you spun around and pressed against the counter, lips attaching to yours feverishly. You moaned into his mouth causing him to smirk as you wrapped your arms around his neck so that one of your hands could find purchase in the curls on the back of his head. His hands roamed your body greedily, wanting to feel every inch of your skin that he had been deprived of for far too long. “God, I’ve missed this,” he practically moaned into your neck where he was busy sucking a purple bruise into your skin, “Nothing I do can ever feel as good as you.”

He lifted you up by the back of your thighs to place you on the counter, spreading your legs wide so he could stand in between them. The moment his large hands grabbed your ass to pull you flush against his skin, it was over for you and you threw your head back to give Shawn more access to your neck, basking in the pure euphoria of feeling him again. “Need you,” you whined, your hands trailing up his abs so he could lift his shirt over his head, “Need you now, Shawn.”

You were shocked to say the least when he disconnected himself from your skin, grabbing your wrists to stop your motion before bringing them up to his lips in a light kiss, eyes staring into yours the whole time. “Not yet, baby. I’ve got a present for you.” A smug smirk danced on his lips and you rolled your eyes, trying to pull yourself closer to him again.

“Can’t it wait until later. Please, I’ve missed you so much.”

“No, I want to give it to you now.” He released his grip on you and walked towards where his luggage was still sitting next to the front door, leaving you sitting on the counter as he leaned down to rummage through his bags. You stared at him curiously, wondering what could possibly be so important that it would make him decline having sex with his wife after having gone so long without her touch. Shawn produced a bright red box from the mess, a black ribbon tied delicately around its edges. The smirk never left his lips as he made his way back over to you, placing the mysterious box in your lap. His hands began to rub slow circles onto your thighs and you could hardly concentrate from all of the tension that was building between the two of you, “Go on, open it.”

You did as he said, carefully unraveling the bow and lifting the top of the box off, a gasp escaping your lips when you saw its contents. Shawn squeezed your thighs, clearly pleased with your reaction as he watched you pull out the lacy blue lingerie, admiring the way he already knew it would compliment your skin tone. The teddy was a deep navy blue with see through lace that left little to the imagination, but just enough that it would tease him when he saw you in it. The center was mostly bare to reveal your stomach which you knew your husband chose because he always loved to kiss all the way down the center of your body. It was absolutely stunning, as was all of the other lingerie he had managed to buy you or convince you to buy in the years you have been together, and there was no doubt in your mind that this would become one of your new favorite pieces. “Where did you get this?” you breathed out, for never in your life had he come home from tour with something as racy as this. Typically when Shawn said he had a present for you it was a souvenir gift from one of the countries he was in or some type of memento that reminded him of you while he was touring, something sentimental to show he was thinking of you while he was gone. And while this clearly told you he was thinking about you, it wasn’t in the same way he was when he bought you those heartfelt gifts.

“Berlin,” he answered simply, moving to reattach himself to your neck, making you let out a quiet groan, “Been thinking about how you’d look in it ever since I bought it, baby.”

It was hard for you to think straight when all of your thoughts were Shawn, Shawn, Shawn, but you managed to form a short sentence, “Berlin was one of your first shows.”

“I know, been thinking about it for a long time. How fucking sexy you’ll look in it spread out across our bed.” You couldn’t help but moan at the thought and Shawn wasted no time helping you off the counter, giving a slap to your ass as he pushed you towards your shared bedroom. “Now why don’t you be a good girl and go try it on for me, eh?”

You nodded eagerly and he gave you a satisfied grin, pulling you in for a searing kiss before releasing you to walk away. Just as you were about to close the door, a thought popped into your mind and you furrowed your brows in confusion, “Shawn?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you really see this in a random store in Berlin and decide to walk in while you were exploring with your team?”

“Why are you worrying about that now? Go get changed,” he laughed, shaking his head at how you always managed to focus on the weirdest things.

“I’m just asking…”

“Go, woman, stop procrastinating.”

You giggled as you closed the door, undressing quickly to place the teddy on your body. You had to admit that Shawn had amazing taste in this area, always finding something that he knew you would not only feel sexy in, but also confident. It hugged your curves in all of the right places and hid just enough skin that you didn’t feel like you were wearing nothing. Fixing your hair slightly, you took a deep breath, before peaking your head out the door, “Oh Shawn.”

His ears immediately perked up at your voice and he rushed over to the bedroom, opening the door wide to see you leaning against the dresser waiting for him. “Oh fuck,” he breathed out, hands extending to grab your hips and rub circles into your exposed skin, “I got you another present that I’ll give to you tomorrow, but I think this one is much better. You look more gorgeous in it than I could have ever imagined.”

A smirk formed on your lips and you brought your hands up teasingly to his shoulders as his hands began to roam your entire body, “You seem to have done a lot of dreaming on tour, why don’t you show me what’s been going on in that mind of yours.”

There was a mischievous glint in his eyes as he pulled you impossibly closer to him and you knew just by that look that you were in for a long night. “Trust me, baby, you’re gonna see just how much I missed you.”

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prismatales · 4 years

Text

Through our lifetimes

Word Count: 2.7K

Bingo slot: Reincarnation

Pairings: Kirishima Eijiro x Reader

Tag/Warnings: Fluff, Slight Angst, Soulmates AU.

Synopsis: According to legends, when both soulmates turn eighteen, they start remembering their past lives together. You’ve known about that story ever since you were a small child. The question is....are you ready to meet your soulmate?

Another entry for the bingo event, hosted by the @bnhabookclub ! This time with the Reincarnation prompt! This is also a birthday present for my dear friend @pixxiesdust , who’s one of the most precious friends that I’ve ever had the chance to meet! Happy birthday Zeze! We love you!

Beta readers: @todoscript & @etegomanere

Credits for the Kirishima cap goes to @eraserhead-transparents!

There’s an old myth about soulmates. One, that only a handful of people could tell you about.

An old story your grandparents have always talked about ever since you were but a small child that was just starting to learn how to speak, let alone memorizing things.

According to the stories, when both soulmates become close to turning eighteen, they start to remember their past lives together. They’ll keep seeing glimpses of these moments in the past the closer they get to this age, and when the day finally arrives they will start to remember each and every single moment of their past lives.

How was it possible that an old couple that always showed their family nothing but unconditional love and support, was able to tell you about this old myth like it had been something that they had experienced themselves?

It was pretty simple...It was because they had experienced it themselves.

Every single summer, you’d spend it visiting that small, cozy home in the fields. It almost felt like you were living inside one of those fairytale books that your parents would always read to your younger self before going to bed.

The days would go by listening to the stories about their past lives. You’d enjoy the nice breeze of summer, accompanied by an ice-cold pitch of sweet, tangy lemonade your grandfather would happily prepare for his two favorite ladies in the world.

It was a routine deeply engraved into your memories. Two tiny hands holding a glass way too big for them, filled to the brim with the sweet drink while you sat over your grandmother’s lap. Her wrinkly fingers would always caress the top of your head softly as she kept talking, and talking, and talking about the memories of her past lives with enthusiasm.

Despite being ridden to a wheelchair, your grandmother always made an effort to help her husband in their beloved fields. She would always help out by holding this huge basket over her lap, a way to help out the man standing in front of her, who was too busy choosing the best of their crops for their daily meals.

If there was something they took pride in, it was teaching you not to be a picky eater. There was something about their crops that made them so delicious, so different from the ones that your mother would always bring home from the supermarket.

It created some precious memories for everyone in the family when they saw the pictures of a small toddler, barely learning to walk, yet she already had her tiny, chubby face buried in a tomato.

As you grew up, it became a habit to come back during summer with the happiest smile on your face while helping out, carrying that huge basket filled to the brim with the delicious crops.

And many years later, once you finally started visiting them on your own, the habit of visiting the old couple every summer never died down. Some people your age would rather go to parties during the summer, or vacation to relax somewhere else.

But not you.

Each summer break would be spent visiting that same house, enjoying the nice breeze with a glass of tangy lemonade, smiling at the old couple as they kept telling you about the stories of their past lives.

Sighing deeply, you stared at the sliced tomato in your fork. Its color is pale in comparison to the ones from your grandpa’s fields, but even if their taste doesn’t even come close, food must never go to waste, so quickly, you start eating the delicious meal.

It’s just a typical lunch; a plate of pasta laid before you, carefully served in the shape of a small spiral, covered with a fine portion of tomato sauce, a sprinkle of parmesan cheese, and basil adorning the plate as the finishing touch.

The dish came accompanied by two slices of bread, toasted to perfection with a nice touch of melted, garlic butter.

Lastly, a nice portion of salad drizzled in balsamic vinegar as a side dish that, even though it was delicious, it couldn’t come even remotely close to those hand-picked crops back at those precious, grassy fields.

The taste of the salad may be bland in comparison, but it’s the company all around you that made the meal taste way better than what it was.

After all, it’s your very first get together after graduating from UA a few months ago. And the best part? It’s all happening during your birthday.

Being surrounded by your former classmates was always a nice way to pass the day. After mentioning how this would be the first summer you’d be unable to visit your grandparents, all of your friends came up with a plan to cheer up the dejected, young woman patrolling the city with a melancholic smile.

It was expected that you would feel this way after spending years visiting the old couple in that lovely house, but you knew it was bound to happen the moment you chose to become a hero.

So the morning your birthday came up, everyone had quickly dragged you out for the day, barely giving you the chance to get ready before being taken to one of the longest outings you’ve ever experienced.

From shopping sprees to a nice restaurant for lunch, and many other kinds of activities, the day literally flew by surrounded by those that could be considered a second family.

But as much as you adored the effort they put to raise your spirits, nothing could distract you from the dreams that you kept having for the past days.

Like the one where a young woman kept sneaking out of her house at night. A beautiful dress, that judging by the intricate design and the puffiness of the skirt was from the victorian era, was carefully dragged around as she walked cautiously through the dark, empty streets. She just kept walking, occasionally turning into a different direction, until a hand shot out through an alleyway, dragging her yelping self with little effort.

As terrifying as the gesture seemed, nothing but warm laughter came out of her lips when a pair of arms wrapped themselves around her, holding her body against a firm chest.

“You’re late!” A voice exclaimed from above, resting their jaw against her head lovingly, their bodies swayed together as they enjoyed the other’s presence in their little hiding spot. “Did you have a good day?”

Pulling her head back, she looked at her lover’s face with a tender smile, wrapping her own arms around the stranger’s waist. “Much better now that I am with you.” From the way she stared at this man, the love they shared was more than obvious before they shared a soft, tender kiss.

But through your eyes, it was impossible to see what this stranger looked like because every time you had one of these dreams...there was a black blur over his face.

And of course...not all of these dreams had a happy ending.

Like that one couple, that despite trying their hardest to be together, their love became impossible the day she was betrothed to someone else in order to pay off her family’s debt. Her beloved, in a fit of heartbreak, went traveling overseas...and he was never seen again.

And then there were others, where the lovers never got a chance to meet, spending their whole lives waiting for the moment they could finally meet their special someone, just to realize, that in the end, faith had taken their loved one away before they could finally find each other.

“What do these dreams mean exactly, grandma…?” You asked this to your grandmother during a sunny day, pushing her wheelchair around the fields while she carried the same, worn-out basket in her wrinkly hands that were still full of strength. In the meantime, your grandfather was too busy picking some crops.

The moment you mentioned these strange dreams to the older woman, her face lit up with the same brilliance as that of a lighthouse in the middle of the darkest night. The basket fell out of her hands from the surprise, much to her husband’s surprise.

“Oh, my goddess! Honey! She has a soulmate! Our little girl has a soulmate!” She almost hopped out of her wheelchair from the joy. Seeing her being so excited that she almost stood up despite her legs being so frail, made the news even more exhilarating for the family.

You snapped out of the little trails of thoughts by a hand waved in front of your face. Blinking in surprise, you came face to face with a pair of red eyes and a slightly concerned face.

“Everything okay?” Kirishima asked, standing by your side while everyone else was engaged in their own conversation. “You’ve been spacing out for a while now.”

Warmth began creeping up your whole face, embarrassed about spacing out on your friends. You smiled awkwardly at the red-headed guy at your right side before giggling softly as you looked up at the vast and clear orange sky, filled with some of the fluffiest clouds you’ve ever seen as they took different shapes, some of them being cuter than others. It was amazing how fast time would pass by when you were surrounded by good company; it was already starting to get dark.

“Sorry, I was thinking about my grandma. We usually sit in the garden at this time of the day while she tells me this story.”

In the middle of your little speech, you failed to notice the way Kirishima kept staring at you fondly, knowing from past conversations at high school just how much you adored the old couple.

“You really look up to them, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I do.” Looking back as everyone kept walking in their own groups after today’s outing, your attention then shifted back to the guy walking alongside you.

Who just happened to be your high school crush, but after all the hardships that occurred three years ago; such as the constant fighting against groups like The League of Villains, The Shie Hassaikai, and others. Dating became the least of your worries.

Especially now that you were on your way to become official pro-heroes, starting out first as sidekicks, of course. Your love life could probably wait...and hopefully, your future soulmate would understand…

“It’s getting pretty late, let me walk the birthday girl home!” He offered with that characteristic smile of his that could light up an entire room by itself.

“You really don’t have to!”

“I insist! What kind of guy would let a girl walk alone at night?”

Sighing in amusement, you gave in to his offer. Aftersaying goodbye to everyone else, both you and Kirishima began walking together in the direction of your small apartment.

The sky had already turned dark by the time you reached a small lake near the building.

“Hey, Kiri…Do you believe in past lives?” It was his turn to look back at the sky, stretching his hands behind his neck with eyes closing deep in thought and eyebrows half furrowed as well.

“Well...It’s not something I’d lose sleep over, but it could be interesting!” He opened a single eye and looked in your direction, the small grin together with those cheerful, red eyes could easily rival the beauty of the sunset itself. “You believe in them?”

“Well, yeah! I’ve heard so many stories about people who are able to remember their past lives, I think it would be amazing to know about ours!” He hummed quietly, nodding to himself in thought.

“What kind of stories have you heard?” He was genuinely curious. That, and seeing the joyful look on your face the moment he asked about it made it all worth it because seeing his crush happy was enough to make Kirishima equally joyful.

“Oh! This is my favorite one! According to the stories, when both soulmates turn eighteen, they see their past lives together!”

You kept explaining every detail to him, unaware of just how quiet he had become the moment you mentioned that once both soulmates turned this age, the hidden faces from their dreams, belonging to their lovers from a past life could finally be seen.

“What if they had an age difference? Say, five years?” He was starting to become more interested in the idea of these soulmates.

“Then they’ll start having the dreams once the youngest of the two also turns eighteen!”

“But what if one of them...dies before meeting each other?”

“Well...they’ll never know their soulmate...not all lives have a happy ending…”

“Oh, that’s...pretty sad.”

“Yeah, it is.” You looked back at the street, muttering softly to yourself. “Hope I can find mine, though…”

“Did you say something?”

“Ah! N-nothing important!”

After some slightly awkward silence, you finally came close to the building where you lived.

“Well...Here we are!” You stood in front of the gates. A bright smile was directed to Kirishima, who stood a few feet away, but still close enough that if he lifted his hand, it could easily brush against yours. “Would you like to come in? I have some matcha cake waiting inside!”

“You sure it’s okay?”

“Of course, silly! I’m a firm believer that birthdays must always be celebrated with cake!” He couldn’t help laughing at your enthusiasm.

But you didn’t get the chance to say another word before something flashed before your eyes. A burst of images began flashing at an overwhelming pace, different memories began coming all at once at an alarming rate that made you hunch, leaning on the gate and holding your aching head, throbbing painfully from the sudden wave of memories coming at all once.

Everything came so suddenly; all those dreams from your past lives came rushing like an avalanche.

That couple embracing each other in the darkness of the alleyway. The one that got separated because of a family dispute and the one that ran away together, everything just kept coming back.

And when they finally stopped, the very first one that you remembered stayed still before your eyes. The couple from the victorian era were embracing each other tenderly before he grabbed his lover’s face by their chin to give them one of the sweetest kisses you could ever witness.

His face was no longer hidden by shadows, and it was like a burst of colors painted this seemingly dark room filled with nothing but black and white with the brightest of shades. Like the sun itself had stepped inside that room.

Because that smile, that bright smile that could easily rival the sun...it was Kirishima’s smile.

Turning your head back slowly with eyes wide open, the first thing you noticed was that your so-called friend was hunched over, holding his head painfully before slowly opening his eyes to look at you, with the same look of absolute shock in those bright red orbs that were always full of life, despite everything he had gone through.

Neither of you moved for a solid minute and just stayed in place looking at one another before a tearful smile began appearing on your face.

“It’s you…!”

Carefully, your hands pushed against the wall for impulse, at the same time that he took a single step, before breaking into a short sprint until he reached you, taking you into a heartfelt embrace that was eagerly reciprocated.

“How did I ever get so lucky?” He whispered, voice nearly breaking from everything he felt in that moment. Neither of you had the willpower to let go, not caring about anything, or anyone else.

“All this time...all this time, you were always right in front of me.” You whimpered. “We’ve been having the same dreams for a whole year and didn’t know it!”

“You’re not going to leave this time, are you?” You nuzzled closer to him, hugging him as tightly as possible and completely afraid of losing your soulmate all over again like in those past lives.

“Never, I could never do that to you!” He kissed your temple lovingly. “Nothing will tear us apart. I promise!”

@bnha-ra @bnhabookclub @gallickingun @godtieruwu @hanniejji @mysticalite @savagetrickster @shoobirino @songsforbnha @sugacookiies @unbreakableeiji @wesparklebitch @pixxiesdust @hawks-senseis @yikerb

#bnhabookclub #bnha imagine #mha imagine #bnha imagines #mha imagines #kirishima x reader

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