#capri fanfiction

[seasonsofcapri]

New Fic: two strings, but one voice.

Title: two strings, but one voice.

Ship: Erasmus/Kallias

Creator: @beautifulduckweed | beautifulduckweed (AO3) 

Rating: Mature

Word count : 8,472 words

Warnings/Tags: Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Mutual Pining, Idiots in Love, Look it's Erasmus/Kallias so it's still super soft despite the tags, My boner for Dead Poets Society finally has an outlet, It's set in Hartford and I'm so sorry about that, Surprise! Kastor still sucks, 5+1 Things, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Erasmus as a sweet Southern boy works and I will die on this hill

Prompt #: 57: "OK, so hear me out: Kallias and Erasmus boarding school AU--pick your era and country, from British public school homoromantic shenanigans to American boarding schools a la Dead Poets Society to something else entirely (it's not as if these two countries have the monopoly on boarding school drama, ha, and like, wizard boarding school is always super fun). It's the end of spring; Kallias is finally graduating. Is he finally brave enough to say something to his best friend Erasmus about his feelings? You COULD make Damen, Kastor and Laurent faculty members at the boarding school--if you wanted to. It can be fluffy and soft, or it can be angsty, full of bullying and abuse. The choice is yours!"

Summary: Five times Kallias and Erasmus almost kiss, and one time when they do.

Erasmus wriggled under the covers while Kallias scooted back to make room. The twin bed was small; they both fit, but only if they wrapped their arms around and pressed up against each other. They were almost exactly of a height. Kallias dropped his forehead against Erasmus’s. Their noses brushed. Kallias was painfully aware of how near Erasmus’s lips were, of their precise position despite the dark. Of how impossible it would be to do anything about it.

Read it here on Ao3!

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[thecapricunt1616]

capriiiiiii can i pretty please request something with carmy and a gf who is dealing with being stiff / sore and tired. i acc just need him to take care of me. maybe cook me a meal. :(( ily

My loveeeee Hello I'm sorry this has been rotting away I've been dealing with such writers block I hope this doesn't suck aaa! I'm sorry I haven't been writing as much / around tumblr this week i've been busy with other things but I hope to write more soon <3 I finally got my new laptop so i'm going to try and cook some stuff up really soon! Warnings for btc: None really, pure fluff & happy carmy!not edited sorryyyy WC: 1638

You had helped Sugar set up her nursery last night. All the moving of large boxes, and helping build the crib, changing table, and dresser, you were wiped out to say the least. You got home around 4 am, and  When Carmy had left for the restaurant that morning, you were still crumpled on the couch where he’d left you, snuggled in a blanket and softly snoring. When he came home that night and nudged you, you jumped like a sleeping cat 

“I’m awake!” You said quickly with an unintentional snore, rubbing your eyes tiredly. 

“Brought you a sandwich and some fries. Back still hurts?” He asked softly. 

You whimper gently as you stretch out your sore muscles, sitting up once again in the dark living room. “How’s work?” You mumbled with a yawn, taking the takeout container as he plopped next to you and planted a kiss on your head. 

“Doesn’t matter, m’here for you baby, why don’t I get you a bath set up mm?” He flicks on a lamp and you blink a few times as your eyes get adjusted to the light.  

“You’re too good to me, you know that right?” You gave him a peck on the lips. He smiled a bit and rubbed your side 

“I can’t even count the amount of back massages you’ve given me after a long week. I’m just repaying the favor.” He watched as you took a bite and sighed in relief, your stomach growling- likely in thanks as you hadn’t moved from your spot all day long in your blanket nest. 

“This is really good, Bear” you mumble as you chew. He hums happily at your approval, giving you one more kiss to the temple before getting up. 

“Good, I put a piece of princess cake in the fridge for you for after your bath if you want” he said on his way to the bathroom, and you could cry at the bliss that was being taken care of. 

He makes sure to clean out the tub with bathroom spray and rinse it fully, before starting the water at the very hot temperature he knew you liked after plugging the tub. He got one of the little herb sachets with different flowers and herbs and hung it over the faucet so it infused into the water, causing it to be a pretty light pink color.

From the bathroom closet he grabbed your little bath tray and set it up for you, as well as the little bath head pillow that suctioned to the tub for you to rest back on, and got those set up before taking out the waterproof electric candles and setting a few out for you for a comforting ambiance. After he put a good amount of the muscle relaxing herbal epsom salts in the bath for you, as well as plenty of bubbles the way you liked and agitated the water for you, he popped your favorite fluffy towel in the warmer. 

He cut off the water and went into the bedroom, grabbing your fluffy bathrobe and a comfortable pair of panties for you as well as the book you were currently reading from your nightstand and got them all set up on the bathroom counter for you, as well as your hair brush. He opened the bottom drawer where you kept all your sheet face masks, and picked out a bedtime one and set it on the bath tray for you next to your book. 

By the time he came back out to let you know your bath was ready you had already finished eating and were once again slumped on the couch, you figured you had pulled or overworked something in your back because even holding yourself up was proving to be exhausting very fast. “Did you want some wine my love” he crouched down next to where you were snuggled on the couch, brushing your hair from your eyes gently. 

“Yes please” you said softly. He planted a gentle, lingering kiss on your forehead before going to the kitchen. He got your favorite wine out of the fridge, popping open the bottle and pouring you a glass. He brought it to the bathroom and put it in the little slot on the tray made for wine glasses, before coming back to collect you. 

“Alright, up” he held his hand out to you and wiggled his fingers for you to take it. You sighed softly knowing moving meant pain, but when you grabbed his hand he lifted you to your feet with little effort, being sure to steady you with his other hand on your hip since you weren’t expecting it. 

“Woah” you giggled, the action having woken you from your tired state and following him to the bathroom. When you saw the state of it, you pulled him into a tight hug, kissing his neck gently. You didn’t want him to see the fact there was tears pooling at your eyes, since he hated when you cried. But the fact that he had a nearly 14 hour day, and came home to you- and still went out of his way, above and beyond to take care of you. To make you feel loved, cared for. You’d never had another partner who was so attentive and went out of their way for you how he did.

“Love you…” you muttered before pulling away with a sniffle. He cupped your cheeks, giving you a gentle kiss 

“Your towel is In the warmer waiting for you baby, I’ll get your pajamas set out for you” he gently tucked your hair behind your ear and rubbed his knuckle over your cheekbone before heading back to your bedroom, leaving the door cracked behind him. You noticed after he left that your skincare was all set up for you as well as your favorite body lotion and its matching body mist which just made you smile even more. 

After undressing you sit in the warm bath, sighing in relief as the hot water did wonders for your sore muscles, resting your head back on the comfortable pillow as you sip your wine and hum contently to yourself. For a while you just sat, reading your book and sipping your wine and after about 30 minutes when the water had gone lukewarm, and your glass of wine had been finished - you decided to drain the tub. 

Carmy heard you getting out of the bath, so he went and got your pajamas that he’d been warming in the dryer for you and got your side of the bed all made up after filling your reusable water bottle with iced lemon water.  By the time you had gotten your lotion on and did your skincare as well as brushed your teeth, the house had already been shut down for the evening. He had made sure to clean up the kitchen and living room, as well as shut all of the shades and get your coffee pot set up for the next morning like usual. 

“Hey pretty girl” he takes your hand, kissing it gently “got some warm pajamas for you, house is taken care of you just have to get in bed” he motioned to the bed where your pajamas were nicely folded for you. 

“And you say you aren’t romantic” you mused, causing him to chuckle a bit as he wrapped his arms around you, kissing the top of your head 

“What can I say, I guess you bring it out of me. Get your pajamas on I’ll rub your feet for you” he said and you hum happily, closing your eyes and planting a kiss on his neck

“Can I be babied like this all the time?” You joked, he huffed a laugh, handing you your pajamas. 

“The days that I’m not too wiped out from work, I can try” he plopped down on his side of the bed with a soft grunt of relief after being on his feet all day. You slipped out of your robe, and his eyes rake over your frame as you unfolded your soft, fluffy nightgown and slipped it over your head. “Mm mm mm” he said jokingly. You giggled as you crawl on the bed, resting your legs over his lap and wiggling your manicured toes teasingly. 

“Get to massaging this isn’t a free peep show” you said and he took your ankle, bringing it to his lips and giving it a chaste kiss

“What- so you can put me to work, and I can’t even eye the goods?” he joked as he put your leg gently back in his lap and grabbing the massage oil that he’d put on the nightstand and warming some in his hands before starting to massage your foot. You hum happily, lips curling into a small smile and your eyes fluttering shut in bliss. 

“Mmmm, keep doin’ that and I’ll let you see whateeever you want” you said happily, your voice nearly a purr from how expertly he was massaging your calves and feet. “Can I turn on Big Brother?” you asked and giggle at the way his face lit up

“You really waited?! Fuck yeah I wanna see whats up put it on” he said and you smiled, shaking your head jokingly as you turned on the TV. He had whined before about not wanting to watch ‘trash reality tv’ all the time, but over the course of the many nights he came home and you were watching it - he had eventually starting asking you to wait for him to watch ‘your show’ together, and you would tease him and tell him how you thought he said it was boring and gossipy, just to get his cheeks to go that cute shade of pink.“Of course I waited, it’s our show now”

[siddyyyyyyyy]

You're Only Sixteen

wc: ~4.6k

summary: child soldier joins task force 141 part THREE; part two, part one; part four

warnings: brief flashback, blood, violence, nightmares

a/n: I'm genuinenly happy how well this is going so far, I'm going to update the parts a bit more slowly for now, but I'm pretty sure I won't take too long on this. Probably. Enjoy!

This time, Ghost is leading the training for today. That just means they're no fun games like last time with Price, not that you were looking forward to it. Starting at the shooting range is like a warm-up for you, landing all shots while doing everything casually. Your reload is fast and precise, your aim is almost always perfect, and your technique couldn't be more clean.

Sparring was similar to the last time, but now you're paired up with Soap. You're both getting in your stance, knees slightly bent, one leg forward, and abdominal muscles tense. Both ready to fight, but this time without any weapons. Ghost specifically told him to strike first, wanting to see how long you can last or even win against Soap. It shouldn't be a big deal for you, even though he is quite a big guy, full of muscle, and slightly taller than you. You've mostly had opponents your size or bigger in field, and you never really had a problem winning or lasting long. Well, besides one person back in camp.

Soap strikes you first with a sharp jab to your side, but you dodge it quickly, hitting him back. You focus on your technique instead of winning, wanting to be strong against him. He seems to be focussing more on his technique as well, noticing how fast he works and his reflexes are. Your fighting styles are similar; the only difference is how you two use it in practice. While he's using more strength and power, you're trying to be quicker than your opponent and trick them.

You kick against his knee, and land some hits against his weak points, it's hard for him to stay balanced or focused. He huffs and stumbles back, only to rush to you quickly and try to tackle you down. With his amount of strength, it's difficult to actually stop him or dodge, having to think quickly. With a small grunt, however, you're down, with him trying to keep you like that. Your heartbeat speeds up and your eyes widen, your breath hitching in your throat. The position you're in is too familiar; trying to get out of it as quickly as you can. Soap is oblivious, just training with you and having tackled you down, keeping you pinned on the mat. Your brain is quick to handle, pulling out the same moves you did in camp. Soap doesn't even realise he's getting into a headlock by you at first. His back on the mat with your arm holding him tight around his neck, feeling how you're only squeezing him more and more with your bicep. He grips your arm and tries to relax, not wanting to get hurt. Luckily, that's all it takes for you to snap back to reality and let go. You sigh out heavily and stand back up, calming down.

»Ye alright?« He asks you even though he should be the one getting checked up on. You give him a weary nod, clearing your throat.

»Yeah, sorry about that.«

You mumble back and focus on not thinking back to the time in camp. It's almost confusing you now, how similar and suffocating it felt. But you know better than to think back to a time like that and distract yourself in training. Soap tilts his head with a confused gaze.

»What do ye mean? The headlock? Nah, that was sick.«

He encourages you with a thumbs up. You nod, unsure of what to say back. The training continues with trembling hands and more focussing on your breathing than technique, feeling on edge the entire time, thanks to the small trigger. Of course, no one has noticed these signs from you, or at least no one has said anything about it. On the other hand, you're glad no one has noticed your trembling hands and more or less distracted mind during the time.

Once it's over, you're headed to the showers and straight back to your bunk. That was more off-putting now that you're alone in your small room, thinking quietly to yourself about what had happened. You shouldn't feel this way, having thought you were over it a long time ago. Maybe it was something else that triggered you, or maybe you really aren't over it yet. Getting in a pin on the ground was one thing your past rival used on you as much as he could. You don't know the real reason behind his technique, but all you do know is how weird and creepy it felt like.

A heavy sigh escapes your lips once more, slumping down on your bed with no energy. Today's training was longer but not as exhausting as the one at camp. But you still feel very tired for no reason. You close your eyes and try to shut your brain off; instead, a lot of thoughts appear about your rival and that god awful training. You don't know why he's all of a sudden back in your mind. You don't know why you're thinking so much about it, and you don't know why you can't stop thinking about him. He was such an annoying and unpleasant person that you tried so hard to forget about, yet he can't seem to give you peace. Even when you're finally away from him.

After spending most of your day inside your bunk, trying to get your mind off old memories, it's time to actually try and do something about it. With slow steps, you make your way back to the training hall. It's dark out already, forcing you to walk cautiously around and not wake anyone. Eventually, you made it in and looked around for a punching bag… and something to wrap your knuckles with. You don't want to injure yourself after all.

It's dimly lit in the training hall, making it seem more cosy and relaxing. Especially with no one inside beside you. There are five punching bags to use in a row, but unfortunately no bandages or gloves for your hands. It is what it is, and you walk up to one of these punching bags to release some tension and stress. After getting into the stance, you land a few softer punches to get used to the feeling again. Maybe it's because you're alone in here, but it already seems too loud for you. Checking behind you, the double door is closed, so there's no way someone could hear you from their bunk.

You start again, using proper technique, and gradually become faster and put more strength into your punches. The punching bag suffers through your hard punches, taking it like a champ, all the while your mind zones out. Zoned out, all you can think about is your past rival back at camp. You don't remember his name; didn't even bother asking for it back then. But you do remember how creepy and annoying he used to be to you, for no reason. And that's enough for your punches to grow heavier and even quicker, the punching sounds are growing louder through the hall. Maybe your knuckles are hurting at this point, but you don't care. That bastard had no reason to treat you like that, leaving you confused, hurt, and probably traumatized.

It's only then when a gruff voice calls out through the hall, speaking to no one other than you.

»Didn't you have enough training for today?«

You stop in your tracks and turn around, seeing that familiar shadow again. Ghost.

Glancing down at your knuckles, you notice how red they look just from how hard you've been punching that bag for… how long already? You didn't keep track, but it seems like more than ten minutes, judging from your aching knuckles. Ghost has crossed his arms, glaring at you with tired eyes.

»Go back to bed, 's way too late for this.« He adds with a more weary tone and leaves no room for arguments, cocking his head slightly to the side. You sigh out rather disappointed, knowing you shouldn't talk back, but you also can't stop just now.

»But I just started...« You mumble and trail off at the end, already smelling how annoyed he is with you. He shakes his head, being as serious as before.

»I won't tell you again. Don't overwork yourself and go to sleep. Let your body rest. We've got trainin' tomorrow, too.« Ghost is not joking with you, probably being more stern than he needs to be. But he knows better than to let you work too much or stress over something for no reason. In his eyes, you're just a poor child who happens to have this fate and is forced to get along with it on your own. Too much alike himself. Eventually, your shoulders drop in defeat, and you nod in understanding.

»Fine. Sorry about that.« He doesn't respond back and just leaves, most likely going back to sleep, too. After considering his words and contemplating if you should just stay longer in here, you walk back to your own bunk like promised and fall against your bed. It's comfortable and quiet, dark as well.

But you notice a small med kit on your night stand, bandages and a cream for sore muscles beside it. You blink, thinking it's just your sleep catching up on you, but there is indeed stuff for you on that small table. Eventually, you apply the cream on your red knuckles and wrap them up, laying back on your bed. Maybe it really is just a normal base and rather peaceful. Maybe you could get used to this some time.

Having no energy to think any more about that, you fall asleep quite quickly this time. Even if you fell asleep quickly, it wasn’t a good sleep. A nightmare plagued you, most likely because of the trigger from earlier. A grey room with no windows, similar to your old training room in camp, several people around you, and loud noises everywhere. It’s incoherent nonsense, but you still understand everything clearly. The room is cold and rather dark for some reason; it all seems too much, but there’s nothing at the same time. Your body feels numb, and you’re wearing your bandages around your knuckles, some dried blood decorating the usual whiteness of the material. You notice it too late, but Mike has you on the ground already. The ground is even colder against your back, and you can’t do anything but lay and watch. He’s on top, which he often tried to do on you, and has your wrists and legs pinned tightly beside you.

Everything is so loud but also so quiet, it makes your ears ring. There’s a horrible stench of blood and sweat around the air, which makes it hard to stay still and fight back. Your moves are too slow, having no other choice but to stay like this. Your rival, Mike, slashes quickly through your throat, staying on top in a mocking way. It’s hard to breathe, you’re chocking on your own blood and squirming under him helplessly. The whole dream feels like a flashback, but worse. Too quick, too real.

You don’t remember much of what happened next, because the next thing you know is how you’re trying to control your breath and get rid of the sickening feeling from the nightmare. It’s not unusual you get dreams like this, but never to such an extent of being unable to breathe normally.

The digital clock on your nightstand tells you it’s time to get ready for the day. You couldn’t be more thankful for Ghost to lay the training into early afternoon instead of early morning. Because you know they’d notice if you showed up like this to the hall. Still on edge and tired, feeling as bad as you look right now. You keep trying to tell yourself that it’s normal to feel like this, hoping it’ll pass soon. Deciding to distract your mind, you go out to the park with your small sketchbook in hand. Maybe you will feel better in the fresh air while sketching something down that comes to mind.

But, of course, you never have a few minutes to yourself as a familiar figure comes by and stops in front of you.

»Drawing?« Gaz seems curious and tries to secretly subtly into your sketchbook.

»Sketching.«

»Ah. What exactly?« He carefully asks, knowing not to disturb a teenage girl when they seem peaceful at the moment. Gaz has past experience from his own family and friends, knowing how moody some are.

You hesitate to show him what exactly you’re drawing, and you just shrug in response.

»Just… anything.« That was a boring response to anyone, and he still wasn’t done disturbing your peace. He politely asks if he can sit by you for a while, sitting down on the same bench after you accept his kind offer. Gaz isn’t one to pry or mind someone else’s business, but today he’s really curious. Probably, because it’s been three days since you’ve been here and no one got to know you properly. Maybe they should work on their social skills instead.

»You sketch often?« Finally, he’s asking you about your hobbies. And finally, a normal question after years.

»From time to time.« That’s not true, you’ve been drawing since you remember and ever since. Drawing to kill time? Three pages full with doodles. Sketching something pretty? Two pages full with only that beautiful thing you saw earlier. Filling some pages to get rid of the anxiety? Done.

Gaz doesn’t quite believe your answer as well, noticing there’s only three pages left in there. Instead of prying more into it, he changes the topic slightly.

»So, what’re you drawing then? People?«

Without another word, you hand him your sketchbook, deciding it’s easier and probably faster this way. He takes it wordlessly and flips through the pages carefully. His eyes study the way you drew random people and objects, not having expected how good you’re at this. He glances at you before flipping another page, recognising the person almost immediately.

»Soap? You drew Soap?« You look down to his hands as he’s still holding it, seeing he found the first sketch of his teammate.

»I guess,« There’s no way out of this now, seeing he’s actually quite amused about it, »There’s more, actually.«

His smile widens, not having expected to see realistic drawings of his teammate. And there’s more? Today couldn’t get any better.

»More? You like drawing him or somethin’?« Gaz stops talking once he goes some pages forward, seeing some doodles of himself and Price. Even if it’s just some sketches or doodles, they look surprisingly well-made and semi-realistic. He looks towards you again, holding up that book of yours slightly.

»Can you draw Soap with a moustache?« Out of all questions he could’ve asked, he chose this one. Always picking the important ones. You need a full second to process what he’s asking before you find yourself speechless.

»What do I get for it in return?« Now, he’s the one without words. He considers for a moment as he tilts his head to the side.

»Depends on how well you draw.«

It’s then, when he can’t take himself seriously and chuckles.

»All jokes, I’ll get you a new sketchbook. Seems like this won’t do in a while.«

That’s a deal well struck with him. You can’t deny such an offer and start scribbling down a rough sketch of Soap, added with a moustache. Gaz watches the lines on the blank paper slowly resemble his teammate, grinning at the extra facial hair above his lip. It’s a sight to behold, being glad he could make someone draw a silly pic of this even more goofier SAS soldier.

Once you’re done, you show the page fully to him, and he can’t help but laugh at the drawing. Not because it’s ugly, but because it looks so much like him, and a moustache looks rather silly on his face.

»We gotta show it to him later.« You don’t see why not and nod, already seeing how absurd the situation will be later on.

After the more eventful interaction, it’s time for the usual training. This time, there wasn’t any difference in sparring, only feeling more tired than usual because of the nightmare last night. All you four did, was practice in the shooting range and go about sparring with Soap, leading with him improving your technique and showing some tricks. Of course, like no other time, you all went to the mess hall to eat dinner. You would have forgotten about the silly sketch of Soap if Gaz hadn’t reminded you beforehand to bring it over for dinner.

Sitting in front of the two teammates, Soap is laughing so hard that he’s clutching to his stomach. The drawing was really worth it, being amused at the sight in front of you. At least now, you could eat in peace without one particular person trying to get to know you better.

A familiar shadow appears in the corner of your eye, and you instinctively glance over. Ghost is approaching the table… with a Capri Sun? You look over once again, needing to take a double take to reassure yourself of what you’re seeing. And right, there he was, the scary-looking goth with a Capri Sun in hand.

It’s then that Soap also notices Ghost. Eventually, he stays standing next to the table and places the smaller but sweet drink on the table.

»Oi, what’s that?« The still amused scot questions him, as confused as you and Gaz. Ghost clarifies, finally not being an intimidating tree.

»Shitbox got me this instead of wa’er. Some of you can have it.«

Oh, so he can’t deal with a vending machine. If he weren’t your lieutenant, you would have made fun of him. Gaz nods and looks over to you after noticing you shift in your seat slightly. To him, it’s clear who wants it most. He wasn’t the only one noticing it, and Ghost shifts the drink towards you, mentioning it to you. Or maybe he just doesn’t think the two blokes deserve such a sweet drink and let’s you have it instead.

»You can have it.«

He grumbles before leaving for wherever he needs to go. It’s a bit weird to just receive something like this for no reason, especially from someone like Ghost. Glancing around, the two others seem normal about it, or they’re just good at hiding their real surprise. Eventually, you take the Capri Sun and draw in the orange straw into the packet. Oh, it’s cherry-flavoured. Your favourite.

Even when you thought your small happiness wasn’t so obvious, it turns wrong once Gaz speaks up.

»Taste good?«

You nod back in response and relax your expression as well as you can, not wanting to come off as too giddy for a sweet drink as such. They both grin quietly and continue eating with Price joining in after some time to eat beside you three.

----

It’s been a week there, and it feels less awkward now. You train and practice every day, sometimes sneaking in late at night to punch some bags. Capri Sun is something you get more regularly at lunch because Ghost can’t seem to figure out how to use the vending machine. In reality, he just likes to give you a small treat and see your eyes light up for a split second. It’s his small way to befriend you; it doesn’t matter if it seems silly or stupid, you appreciate it, and there’s no harm to it. You could compare it with an attempt to befriend a cat with treats, and it works well. Consider Ghost as a harmless guy who gives you your favourite drink- just because.

Gaz talks to you the most from the others, occasionally checking up on your new drawings and sketches, promising to get you a new one as soon as he can. He likes your drawings after all. He’s easy to talk to as well, having light conversations with you and a few jokes. Gaz is the most friendly and easygoing of them all for one. At least that’s how he is with you, but you’re sure he can be different too. Soap is as friendly as him, but for some reason you feel like you need to be careful around him.

The problem isn’t him, it’s no one’s fault, really. You know he’s just as nice and supportive, but it seems like the pin he did on you is still in your head. They can always out win you in a fight if you don’t pay attention, and the thought of it makes your skin crawl. Ignoring it most of the time, you trust them all equally. It’s better here than back in camp. If you can still call it that anymore.

Being here, made you realise how toxic it was back then. They don’t judge and punish you for making simple mistakes; they won’t even look at your scars twice or ask about them, and most importantly, no one forces you into something uncomfortable.

You feel safer.

Pushing the constant nightmares and headaches away, it really is more safe and peaceful here.

Today, after training, you cross paths with Ghost. You immediately notice that he’s carrying an almost comically large bag in his arms. Taking a closer look, you see it’s dry dog food. Dog food? Why would he need that? You never took him as someone with pets, and you never saw dogs around on base. Thank God you didn’t.

You nod briefly at him and can’t help it but approach him out of curiosity.

»Do you have a dog?«

He grunts, side eyeing you for a moment.

»Just gonna feed Riley. A K9.«

So, they do have military dogs. How come you never saw them? Back in the old camp, the dogs could roam freely on base. But they also weren’t really nice dogs, always barking and ready to attack anyone. Even you were once chased by a large German Shepherd, almost getting bitten if you weren’t fast enough.

You simply nod back, not sure what to answer to that. Of course, he could sense your shift into uneasiness and nudges your shoulder lightly while walking down the base with you.

»You should get to know some. They’re not scary, don’t worry.« That makes it better only for a moment before you fully process his words. There isn’t really a way you can deny his offer and nod slightly, following him wordlessly. He isn’t as talkative either, but you don’t think that’s a bad thing. You’re lost in thought once he speaks up, shifting the big bag of dog food into his left arm.

»Ever met a big dog? Anything?«

You’re standing outside his office as he asks, opening his door with a key while he waits for your answer.

»Kind of. Got chased by one.« He can’t help but pause for a moment at your blunt answer, eventually getting his door open and stepping in. You follow him in and close the door behind you, noticing a bigger German Shepherd sitting up on the ground. It’s tongue sticks out and seems to be happy about seeing you both, judging from it’s wagging tail.

The dog stays silent though, patiently waiting for their owner to give them some sort of permission. You stay standing near the door, watching the two silently, hoping it won’t do anything. Ghost puts the large bag down against the wall and steps closer to the dog, kneeling down as it happily walks to him and enjoys the few hat pats he gives. You watch them both interact, visibly relaxing slowly as long as the dog is near Ghost and gets fed, getting a few more pats from its tall owner. He turns to you and introduces you to the dog, his hand staying on the dog’s back.

»That’s Riley. A sweet girl- will be joining our next mission, as far as I know.«

That’s totally great. Yeah, sure, you could work with a big dog while having a fear of them. You nod either way, shifting on your feet as you watch the dog from the closed door. Riley munches on her food, seemingly content.

»She seems… nice.«

He can see how unsure you are about the dog, and he guessed he would need to get you used to dogs somehow. Ghost sits down beside Riley, nodding towards her.

»You can pet her. She’s friendly, won’t bite.« He is trying to loosen the tension with a small joke, only seeing how you glance at him before looking back at Riley. Eventually, you approach her with silent steps, being cautious of the still-eating dog. You kneel down beside Ghost, firstly just watching her with anticipation in silence. Riley is quick to realise you are close now too and lifts her head off the bowl of food, trying to get to know you eagerly. She takes a step towards you, and you stay still, not wanting to accidentally make her angry. Ghost beside you can’t help it but feel amused watching you be so stiff while also watching Riley to make sure she won’t make you even more scared.

Riley sniffs around the air shortly before leaning towards your hands on your knees, taking a sniff at them. Before you know it, she’s licking at them. You cringe at the feeling, leaning a bit away from her.

Beside you, Ghost grins under his mask, glad that you don’t seem to be scared and more amused at how you react to Riley’s sudden affection. Suddenly, the K9 is trying to lick at your face, but you turn away with a small groan. Ghost pets her on the back, commanding her to sit down for now.

It takes a moment for Riley to fully calm down, her tail still wiggling back and forth. Ghost hands you some treats and wants to show you what tricks this joyful dog can do. Riley follows his commands flawlessly, rolling over, laying down, playing dead, able to stand on her back paws for a few seconds.

You extend your hand to give her a few treats- the small cookies in shape of bones in the palm of your hand. She eats it out of there happily, probably having a blast right now.

Riley is a good dog, even when she wants to give you affection through licking your hand, which mostly feels weird, but overall she doesn’t overwhelm you like the past dogs in your life.

Ghost also seems to be satisfied with the end result, however, he couldn’t let go of your words earlier. Normally, he would mind his business, but this is a sixteen-year-old we’re talking about.

»So, you were chased by one?«

You glance at him shortly, unsure of how to explain it to him now. You try it out, explaining it to him as shortly as you can.

»We also had some K9’s on camp and I was chased by one because I wasn’t careful enough.« You don’t realise how shocking that sounds before he gives you a look of disbelief. He asks again, gently petting Riley behind her ear.

»Your own camp had dogs, and one chased you? Why’s that?« You only shrug in response, not sure yourself. The dogs were mostly trained to be aggressive and were held rather roughly.

»I believe they got extra trained to be as aggressive as possible.«

He only hums out in acknowledgement, letting go of Riley and standing back up. Every time he hears more about your camp it is when he loses five years of his life. You follow right after him, standing up and getting a last glance at the sweet dog.

»Go, get your shower.« He mumbles, reminding you of taking your shower since you joined him after training, finally able to rinse off your sweat. You nod and leave without another word, taking a quick rest before eating dinner in the mess hall.

a/n: Hope you had fun reading this, it was a bit longer than the last part. The next one is probably going to be just as long. I hope you enjoed it!

[my-deep-dark-secret]

[austenwazright]

omg I'm such a damen's girlie, like it doesn't matter what the character say or what evidence points to my basic standing in every fanfiction is "it wasn't damen's fault"

[idontplaytrack]

Whole Lot in Love

Capri Donahue x fem! reader

Warnings: MDNI, smut. Oral, fingering, pet names(reader receiving). Coarse language, fluff

Part 2 for ‘Kiss It Better’

Things between you and Capri weren’t awkward. Until you two were in school, that’s where the silence was so loud, it was almost tangible.

No one knew what happened between you and her at the pool party, no one knew about the kiss. Well, the kisses. Technically. The sweet little peck to your thumb, and the needy, yearned for, first kiss. You knew the girl had a reputation to uphold, as did you. So your anxiety began to set in when she talked to you, and stood right next to you. You were terrified of being seen and talked about by others.

It was the last week of school before summer. You just had to make it through these five days then you didn’t have to worry about it anymore. “Hi, you.” Capri says while walking up to you. She readily leans in to kiss your cheek but you dodged it— right. This — the PDA ‘rules’ hadn’t been discussed yet.

“What’s the matter?” The girl asks with a chuckle, face almost confused by your reaction.

You told her, “We haven’t exactly discussed anything.”

She got what you meant and kept a bit of a space between you and herself, "Right, right. We'll talk that out after school? Today?"

"Sure." You agreed.

"Where's your last class?"

"Gym." You told her, eyes narrowed and watching the students walking by.

"I'll wait for you outside." Capri says, "See you later, y/n."

"Bye." You responded, an awkward chuckle escapes your mouth as you turned to go in the direction opposite hers. Capri nearly cackled at your reaction but bit the laugh back.

The rest of you day at school went by without a hitch, but she did keep looking at you whenever she got the chance to. You could feel her eyes on you, practically burning holes into the back of your head.

Did you want to look back at her? Yes.

Were you afraid to because of what other students would say? God yes.

You were never used to any attention from anyone, you always just slid under the radar at school and floated by, much like Darby.

Quickly changing out of your gym attire, you got out of the locker room as a trio of popular girls in your gym class entered. You’d just spared yourself some snickering and finger-pointing. Looking both ways when you stepped out of the gymnasium, you spot Capri leaning against the wall on your left. She looked up, saw you and skipped over. “Hey!” Capri beamed.

“Hi.” You gave her a small smile, “Uh, are you parents home?”

“Not right now but they’ll be by dinner time.” Capri replied, “Yours?”

“They’re on business trips for another week.”

“Ooh.” She chuckles, “Okay, we’ll talk at your place. You don’t drive, do you?”

“It’s a twenty minute walk.” You shrug.

“Well, my car’s parked here and I don’t want to leave it here in the parking lot.” She continues, “C’mon, let’s take my car.” You followed Capri to her car, and got in the front with her.

“You wanna pick up anything from the store on the way back?”

“No, I’m good.” You said while buckling your seatbelt.

“Okay, then.”

The brief drive was filled with light-hearted conversation. She asked you a bunch of questions to get to know you and you just answered them without a second thought. In the privacy of her car, where no one else could see. You were free as a bird, no worries, no nothing.

“Nice place.” She commented as you two walked into the place.

“It’s really not.” You laughed.

“Oh, come on. It is.”

“It’s…small.” You added on.

“Not really.” She retorted.

“Fine, it’s not. Your mansion is huge.”

She smirked, “Touché, y/n. It feels so empty a lot of the times.”

“I’m gonna go take a shower.”

She gasped, “Wait, what do you want me to do?”

“I dunno. Make yourself at home? Watch TV, raid the pantry. I’m all gross from gym class. Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” She asked teasingly, stepping closer to you. Her arm was smoothly winded around your waist, face to face with you.

You looked at her, brows raised, bewildered. “You know what you’re doing.”

“Maybe I don’t.” She continues.

“Let me take a shower first, alright?” You avert your eyes, requesting.

“M’kay.” She hummed, her palm rubbing small circles on your lower back as she broke away from the embrace. That gesture ignited a swarm of butterflies in your stomach, and the blush on your cheeks to deepen. Clearing your throat, you scampered upstairs before she could poke fun at you for it.

You didn’t take long, not wanting to keep her waiting. “Hey.” She turned to look at you from her seat on the couch. You silently walked up to her and sat down next to her. “Okay, let’s…talk.”

“So…” You sigh, “What are we?”

“What do you mean?” She asks, absolutely confused.

“What…are we? We kissed, so…are we dating? Or was that, just—”

“I told you, I like you, y/n.” Capri says softly.

“So?” You asked back. “That doesn’t mean that we’re—”

“Is that why you didn’t want me to kiss you on the cheek at school?” She questioned, her gaze gentle, as was her tone.

“I just— I like you too, but the thought of me being openly affectionate with— I’m sorry, I’m not out yet and I— I’m scared.” You revealed to her, finally.

“That’s okay. I got you. We don’t have to do anything while we’re out in public.” Capri held onto your hand as she spoke, “And to answer your question, yes. We’re dating. But we’ll keep things…lowkey. Hm?”

You sniffled, eyes still not completely meeting hers. Nodding your head, you mumble, “Okay.”

Before you could realise, she’d wrapped her arm around you again, pulling you closer to her. Reflexively, your head was on her shoulder. You didn’t fight it, knowing you were…safe in this space. No comments, no judgement.

————

“What’re you doing?” You ask, looking up at her.

“Nothing.” She smirked, chuckling as she continues to caress your lower back.

“Right.” You laugh, rolling your eyes playfully.

“What do you want me to be doing?” She asks suggestively, palm now gliding lower and lower. Approaching your ass. You let out a harsh exhale as her hand cups the muscle, you flinch, glaring at her. You were almost too quickly losing focus on whatever the hell was playing on TV.

Soon, you relaxed again, letting her leave those lingering touches all over you. You wanted her to, but you didn’t exactly want to say it just yet. Just to be a little playful with her. Capri definitely didn’t mind it. “Capri.”

“Yeah.” She hand stops moving for a second.

“Prove it to me.” You muttered.

“Oh, no problem.” She practically purred, sending a rush of heat down south.

“Show me you mean it, show me that you like me like you say you do.” You weren’t sure where this confidence came from, but it was definitely the way to rile her up.

“Baby girl, you know I love a challenge.” Capri smirked, flipping you over onto the couch.

“Do you?” You asked cheekily as she straddled you, face inches away from yours.

“You wanna do this here?” She snaps out of the mood for a moment.

“What?” You squint at her.

“You wanna go to your room?” She asks, pressing a rough kiss to your lips.

You nodded eagerly, unable to hide your excitement. “Okay, get up.” She climbs off you, you got up. Capri picks you up and carried you up the stairs, impatiently.

“Second door on the right.” You said into the kiss.

She lowers you onto your mattress, lips never leaving yours as her knees were on either side of you. The intensity of the kisses varied and left you aching and wanting more. “Done this before?”

“No.” You admitted, swallowing thickly.

“We’ll take it slow.” She assured.

You nodded, feeling your cheeks flushing with her eyes fixated on you, “Okay.”

Capri grins, cupping your cheek as she leaned down to capture your lips again.

“You smell so good.” She says while kissing her way down your neck. You whined quietly when her lips were no longer felt on your mouth. You laughed at the comment and squirmed, but she kept going, wanting to hear that sweet, sweet noise again.

“You can tell me to stop anytime, you hear me?” Her lips broke away, Capri looked at you directly, “Anytime. No questions asked.”

“Yeah.” You nod, “Yeah— I hear you.”

“Good.” She smiled, brushing the hair out of your eyes as she lowered herself again.

When her lips started to attack a certain spot of your neck, you bit your lip to muffle the noise that was trying to force its way out of your mouth. Capri noticed it instantly. “Hey.” She hums, “It’s okay. Don’t hold back.”

Well, fuck. That gentleness in her tone only made you more flustered and needy. Why is she like that with you? And only you? Whatever, you were enjoying it. You loved it. Being the only one to see this side of her.

Obviously, she was taking the lead since this was your first time. She was gentle— not just her words, but also her actions. How she was kissing you, how her hands were roaming your body to explore it and what made you tick. Slow, and soft but passionate and eager.

It made your mind fuzzy, your eyes begin to watch her as she worked you over. She grins when she realises, letting out a chuckle and she squeezed your thighs. “You good?”

“Mhm.” Came a strained reply from you, “So good.”

“Aw.” She continues to grope your thighs, “So glad.”

That ignited something in your core— this little bit of her usual cheeky facade…

You licked your lips and gnawed on it again when her hand headed down your front. Her eyes, they flicked up to look at yours to ask you for permission silently. You gave her the green-light to proceed, and very slowly, you feel her middle finger gliding up and down your slit to gather your arousal before it enters you. Capri watches your face as she does so, making sure she wasn’t hurting you.

“Okay?”

Her question was answered by a whimper from you, making her smile smugly. She picks up her pace, hooking up her finger to press onto your sensitive spot inside. Your mouth hung open, a soft gasp escapes. Capri couldn’t take her eyes off you, she was infatuated. She could watch you all day while she fucked and edged you. Her other arm was smoothly hooked under your thigh as her finger pumped in and out of you steadily. More arousal leaked out of you, making her lose the friction and you both to start hearing a rather obscene noise come from the juncture between your legs.

Your head was spinning and Capri started to pick up her pace while you felt a second finger lazily moving between your folds, as though trying to tease you. “You want more, baby?” Capri asks, voice low-pitched and faint.

You took in a quick breath while you nodded feverently without saying a word, this was what you were reduced to. Nothing coherent was forming in your mind, your mind was miles away now as your eyes focused on the girl between your thighs and your body focused on chasing your release.

A second finger slides inside you without resistance, and again, she observed your face. Noting that you were fine, she begins to move them in and out of you, pace quickened once more.

Feeling her two digits poke your g-spot for the first time, your eyes rolled to the back of your head. Then, Capri was rewarded with a breathy moan from you. From then on, your noises matched up with her ministrations. The more vocal you were, the more eagerly she was fucking you. Eventually, something made you scream. Capri had pressed her thumb onto your clit and started to rub it. And at this moment, every single word that ran through your head were profanities. So you hesitated opening your mouth, expecting them to be flying out of there if you did. Aaand you weren’t usually one with much of a potty mouth.

“I want to hear you.” She demanded, but her smile was almost sickeningly sweet.

“Okay.” You agreed.

“Hey.” Her free hand caresses your inner thigh, you look at her.

“Do you want me to try something else?” She inquired, fingers inside you never stopping.

“Try what?”

“Using my mouth.” She answered the very next moment.

“Wh— oh.” You looked at her, straight in the eye. She was serious. “Okay.” You chuckled, “Yeah, alright.”

Her tongue darted out and you saw her literally dive right in. Her tongue flicks persistently at your swelling clit while her mouth was closed around the hood of it.

“Oh— fuck!” You cried out, “Fuck…”

She hums in approval, “Does that feel good, baby?”

“Mm— yeah, yeah. Yes, oh my God.” Your breaths were beginning to come out in short pants. Her arm hooked around your thigh pulls you closer right as your back arches. Your hands grasp the sheets beneath yourself as you felt the pleasure building up and up to a breaking point.

It was…peculiar. You didn’t know what to expect.

“Oh, shit.” You gasped, “More— more. I want more.”

Her fingers joined in on the action post-haste, causing profanities and her name to fall from your lips unendingly. The girl was basking in it, and your pleasure. Fuck, was she good at this.

“Are you close?” She asks, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“I— Capri, I don’t know what the hell to expect, I—”

“Probably kinda feels like you have to pee.” Capri says, mouth barely detached from you. The heat and her breath fanning against your cunt makes you flinch and then you were throbbing. So goddamn intensely.

“What?” You muttered. But you didn’t have much time to think when you began to feel exactly what she described.

“Fuck— shit, don’t stop— don’t stop, don’t stop— oh, my God, Capri—” You babbled, back arching and pushing yourself closer to her than ever. Capri slows down gradually but doesn’t stop just yet, allowing you to ride out each and every wave of your high.

“Oh, good girl.” Capri laughs softly, caressing your inner thighs as you start to calm down and find your breath again.

That made your heart flutter, you were giddy happy. Still a little breathless, but you felt great.

“How was that?” She asks, glancing at you.

You let out an exhale in amusement, “I’m…surprised.”

She bites her lip, chuckling again, “Really? Why?” Capri grabs a tissue from your nightstand to clean off her mouth and chin before laying down next to you.

“It was my first time, so…” You looked at her, she was laid down next to you, hand resting on your torso, fingers absentmindedly tracing squiggles on your skin, “That, and um, you were actually way gentler than I though you would be.”

“What?” She gasped, feigning offence.

You giggled, laying on your back.

Capri sighs softly, tilting your face so you were looking at her again. You returned to laying on your side. Her hand goes up your cheek, her thumb stroking against the skin softly, “I love you.”

“Do you, now?” You teased with a chuckle.

She pushes with a finger on your chest playfully, “Yes, I do, silly.”

🏷️Tag list:

@ashecampos @auliisflower @cheesysoup-arlo @frogs00 @ludoesartandstuff @pda128

[liliaouroswrites]

as a capri, dark rise & drarry fan, seeing art on my tl is like my own personal game of guess who 😂😂

[voidstilesplease]

Not Damen pining throughout half of Kings Rising and imagining a different past, where he and Laurent met in a better circumstance, where they were given a chance to grow with their feelings away from war, and NOT Laurent saying Auguste would have liked Damen after he fully surrendered to his feelings for him.

This, this moment right here, is one of the reasons why I am infinitely grateful for the existence of fanfiction. Because when I go to AO3, I know this won't just be a bittersweet fantasy. I know there's an alternate universe somewhere where I can have this. Where Damen and Laurent can have this.

[captaincouture]

Wildflowers in the Wind

Chapter 1 sneak peek

As a child, Auguste had been mischievous, a fact his father had painstakingly tried to conceal from the court and the public, with only minor success at the latter. The court was too often a victim in his games to be unaware of his nature, and subsequently became wary of him in his young years. Boredom, of course, was the main cause. Everything changed one early morning during late spring in his twelfth year when tiny baby Laurent came screaming into the world.

Mother had been sickly Auguste's whole life, but more so in the months leading up to Laurent’s birth. An experienced older brother to be, Auguste hadn’t paid much mind to Hennike’s approaching ninth month, expecting this pregnancy to be like all the others, fruitless. So when he was summoned in the middle of the night by a servant to his mother’s rooms, he assumed her health had taken a turn for the worst and that he would be saying another tearful goodbye to her, just in case, like all the other times her health had failed.

But tonight his father was there too, and so something was clearly different. Mother was still as lifeless looking as she usually was this late in pregnancy, but the physicians were busying themselves checking between her legs instead of feeding her teas and soups. With weak hands Hennike beconned her baby boy to her bedside, and reached out to him as best she could. Auguste took her frail hands in his and squeezed them tight, “What is it Maman, what’s going on?”

With a steadier voice than should be possible, she responded, “The baby is coming now, Auguste, and I need you to promise me something.”

Auguste had promised his mother many things over the years. That he would stop sneaking away from his history tutors, that he wouldn’t steal councilman Herode’s fancy feather pen anymore, that he hadn’t been secretly dressing up in commoners clothing and pretending to be a cobbler selling shoe shine to the locals. Usually, Auguste’s promises weren’t worth much.

“What is it Maman?”

Hennike grits her teeth through a wave of sharp pain, and exhales in fractions. Auguste waits as patiently as a boy of just twelve can, shifting from foot to foot anxiously. One of the physicians with a funny cap places a wet cloth on her forehead.

“The baby is coming now Auguste, your baby brother, and I may not be here to help raise him-”

Aleron’s voice cuts her off sharply, “Don’t say that Hennike, you’re going to be just fine.”

Maman shoots him a look Auguste can’t decipher and continues.

“I may not be here to care for him like I cared for you, so I need you to be there for him in whatever ways he needs, do you understand?”

Auguste tries his best to keep his sniffling quiet, he can’t let Papa know he’s crying. “I guess.”

“No guessing Auguste, you have to be sure. This baby will not have his mother, so he must have his brother. You will love him, and care for him, and keep him safe, and hold him when he cries, and never let anyone hurt him.” Hennike pauses, breathes deeply as Aleron stands stiffly at her side, and Auguste crawls into the bed with her despite the physician's protests. “He’s coming early, so he will be small and sickly, and will need a lot of patience and love. You’ll do that for him, won’t you, Auguste?”

“Yes ma’am, I will.”

“Good boy, you’ve always had such a big heart, I don’t want you to hide it. Your love should be a privilege to those who receive it, but never a rarity. I love you my boy.”

Auguste chokes the words out, “I love you too Maman, it’s going to be okay.”

Hennike is silent after that, if you don’t count her cries as the physicians mess around between her bent legs where the sheets cover her down to the thighs. Auguste stays laying by his mothers side, holding her hands, and tries not to wince when she squeezes a little too tight.

After a single command from Aleron, which Auguste doesn’t quite hear over his pounding heartbeat, the physicians stop glancing worriedly at Hennike and focus on the baby coming out of her. Whether by chance or as a result, Auguste doesn’t know, but Mamans grip on his hands loosen, and eventually ceases completely as her eyes slip shut.

Auguste tries to shake her back awake, but to no avail. “Papa, something is wrong, Mamam isn’t waking up!”

Aleron’s stony face turns to his son, then his wife, away from the physicians work. He steps to the head of the bed and places a solid hand on Auguste’s shoulder, “Calm now boy, you are a prince.”

Auguste can’t see the moment little Laurent makes his way into the world, but he can surely hear him. Maman must have been wrong when she said he would be frail, since his lungs are nothing but. His screams must echo through the entire castle, waking every servant and courtier from their sleep, and Auguste has never been so afraid in his life.

The physicians pull the screaming bundle away from the bed and clean him off -Auguste hadn’t realized birth was so bloody- and the head physician holds him out to Aleron. At Aleron’s cool stare at the baby and lack of action, the physician with the funny hat gently takes him from the other man's hands and walks around the bed to place the bundle on Hennike’s chest.

The baby's cries soften at contact with his mother but do not cease. The physician with the funny hat takes Auguste’s hands and places them on his baby brother, he whispers just so Auguste can hear him, “He is your responsibility now.”

Aleron does not balk at a physician directing his son, so Auguste nods and stares at baby Laurent for the first time. He is so tiny, and so fragile, Auguste is afraid his new treasure won’t last the night.

But he does last the night, in Auguste’s arms, with Aleron standing quietly nearby. And by the time the bells ring out the morning's tenth hour, Maman opens her eyes and cries as she holds both her boys for the first time.

Auguste has never felt so full of love.

[alienwritestoo]

Philza Minecraft is a wizard who accidentally became immortal after meditating too hard.

Missa Sinfonia is an engineering student who got turned into an vampire after going to his first (and only) frat party.

Decades later, they bump into each other at the bar Forever Anonymous.

------

"So you... don't want to be immortal?" Philza eyes his drinking partner.

"Hell no," Missa scoffs. "I have to get my engineering degree again." He puts his head in his hands. "I chose the wrong career for being a vampire, man."

"Oh thank god." The blond wizard relaxes. "I thought I was the only one who hates immortality, mate." He puts on his hat. "Say, I've been researching a way to reverse it. Want to join me?"

The dark haired vampire clasps his hand desperately. "Please!"

------

Years pass in their pursuit to reclaim their mortality. Missa makes himself helpful to the cause- "It's okay to take a break Philza, have some enchiladas so I can live vicariously through you!"- and fashions them in the mortal regalia of the decade as time slips through their fingers like quicksand. He keeps them to a schedule of new names, new jobs, and new towns so nothing inconvenient props up once they've figured out the cure.

They take a small detour for Philza to conquer Antarctica for a couple of decades, but it was well worth it for the penguins. And it helps that there's never much sunlight during the times of year they're there, and the vampire can't really feel cold. It becomes Missa's favorite vacation destination.

Returning to their home in not-Antarctica is less exciting for a vampire who can't be in the sunlight.

"Are we there yet?" Missa complains as he sits at their normal kitchen table, eying Philza's sandwich mournfully as it sits untouched and unappreciated.

"Not yet." Philza smashes golden applies into a blender hooked up to an absurd amount of redstone circuits behind the wall. His eyes glow purple as he waves his wand, mummering an incantation as the machine screeches impassively. "Maybe this will work?"

Missa drops his head and sighs. Being an immortal vampire can be very, very boring. Maybe he should visit the penguins and see his Great, Great, Great Grandchicks.

------

Philza sighs as he rolls into bed. He waits for ten minutes before slipping into Missa's room and pretending to be really, really cold.

"No problemo, Philza," Missa says as he opens his cold arms wide. "I'll warm you up." He teases with a quirk to his lips.

The wizard sinks gratefully into the cool skinned embrace of his vampiric companion. A couple of decades ago, his face would be turned carefully away in embarrassment while spending time internally combating a sexuality crisis, but the immortal has long realized that labels are bullshit and he can ask for a hug if he wants one, dammit.

"What's on your mind?" The cold-skinned vampire asks him, seeing right through his bullshit.

"Forever told me he's in love with me." Philza confesses softly as he lies prone in Missa's embrace. "But he's not actually, because I remind him of his old partner from when he was mortal. Same hair, eyes, taste in clothing-" His chest grows tense. "I saw the pictures. Which I know it's really sad that Forever's life partner was mortal and gone, but I hate that it means I'm being seen as an imitation of someone else instead of the person I am. And it's not like I reciprocate his feelings-" He glances up at Missa. "But I wish we were at least friends, you know?"

Missa huffs. "He's a pendejo, Philza. We should going to his terrible bar."

"We did meet there." Philza reminds him, both amused and pleased by his partner's defensiveness on his behalf.

"We'll go to other bars!" Missa counters irritably.

"There aren't any other immortal bars, Missa." Philza points out logically.

"Well, he has to pay somehow." Missa's grip tightens in anger with vampiric strength, before he remembers himself and loosens his hold. "I'm not letting him get away with treating you like a convenient replacement for a ghost. It's rude, man!"

"We'll think of something." Philza placates with a suppressed smile. "Let's sleep on it. Okay?"

Missa hurumps and settles down to meditate. "Only if we think of something better. Otherwise, you know I'll burn that place down, Philza."

They both drift into unconsciousness and wake later with revenge in mind.

------

The strange pair walks into the latest government's registration office right before close in winter. They complete an absurd of paperwork and giggle as they walk out.

A few weeks later, they receive marriage certifications in the mail and proudly display them above a picture of a sulking Forever.

When their friends ask why, Missa starts to theatrically sob and accuse them of not believing in true love. Philza, without an ounce of shame, always just laughs.

They both refuse to elaborate.

------

"Ta da!" Missa jazz hands as he slides into view. "I found us a son!"

Philza blinks as he stands in the foyer of their home, looking down at the dragon hatchling stabbing him in the leg with a wooden sword. "A what now?"

The child is wearing a duck floatie. They don't own a pool. He has never been more confused in his life.

Philza accepts he has a son minutes later after listening to a peacefully dull, ordinary tale that makes him relax about the decision his husband made. Something about an adoption center ran by polar bears, a "Federation" kidnapping them at some point, inconsequential stuff. They could absolutely raise this child with no worries whatsoever.

He corrects the child's form. "Now this is the way to stab someone, mate." The child chuffs happily and proceeds to stab him a bit better than last time. The immortal wizard looks up at his husband. "What's his name again?"

"Chayanne!" The vampire' grin drops at the murder in Philza's eyes.

"I thought I said that name is banned in this house!" Philza yelled, chasing him around the house with his son's wooden sword. "No cheating!"

"I'm sorry!" Missa wailed before getting thwacked. "Its a good name!"

The name inevitably sticks after the dragon hatchling refuses to answer to anything else. The immortal family of two swiftly, and spiritedly, becomes three.

------

"How did we meet again?" Missa asks his husband as they curl up around the fireplace.

"Oh that?" Philza hums considerably. "I think we were at Forever's bar and bonded over something we both really, really hated. Can't remember what it was, though."

Missa gasps. "Wait, I know!"

"What was it?"

"Engineering." The vampire says gravely.

"No wonder mate." Philza groans. "Not worth relearning how things actually work every decade."

"I know, right?" Missa says, sitting up as he becomes more passionate. "I'm so glad I switched careers to creating destruction wherever I go and reaping mortal souls by drinking all their blood like a mortal Capri sun."

"That really is so much better, king." Philza agrees. "I think Chayanne would be perfect at that when he's older."

"He's 200 years old, cariño." Missa reminded him. "Our little huevo chose to fight God with Uncle Etolies, remember?"

"Oh yeah, I remember now." Philza lies. "I heard on the news, after the Capri Sun ad, which, I don't know how that company lasted so long-

Missa suspiciously smirks. All the employees are his minions.

"-That the sun's going to collide with the earth in the next five years."

"Can it be sooner than that? I can barely remember Forever, and he's got a name that we have to say all the time." Missa groans. "Immortality, forever, whatever man!"

"Yeah our memory's fucked." Philza chuckles.

The married immortals stare into the fireplace and hope they haven't forgotten anything important. They go to bed to meditate the night away.

"Shit shit shit!"Missa slaps Philza out of his trance, who rolls over in protest. "Get up, old man!" A bucket of water dumps over his head. And then lava, which tickles. "We forgot Chayanne's birthday!"

------

End of fic

[theoverlyenthusiasticwriter]

The Witness

Part 2

Part 1

Read it on Ao3

It had been five years since Auguste had seen Damianos, Prince of Akielos, but he recognized him instantly.

And he knew Laurent did too.

If Auguste had a breath, he would hold it. Laurent’s boots echoed on tiles, cold and crisp, as he approached the kneeling prince. There was a sneer to his upper lip, as if in disgust.

He should be disgusted. A prince of a foreign nation had been delivered to him as a slave, humiliated, captive. It was unheard of.

Auguste held little resentment towards Damianos. Thus were the ways of war. Men died and made murderers of other men. They were each defending their own countries. They each believed they were right, and the other was wrong. Auguste could see that now.

The question was if Laurent could.

The courtiers parted around Laurent, as if in fear of the supposedly reckless, mettlesome prince. He’d been drinking, an act he hadn’t participated in since Uncle forced wine down his throat as a child.

This was going to be bad.

“Laurent, don’t,” Auguste said softly, as if his dear brother might hear.

“I hear the King of Akielos has brought me a gift.” Again, that slight curl of the upper lip, but Auguste recognized now that it wasn’t disgust: it was rage.

One of the courtiers laughed. “An Akielon groveling on its knees. How fitting.”

Damianos lifted his head and for a moment, Auguste was sure all of the air had been sucked from the room and replaced with ice. Laurent went white as he met those dark eyes.

Then Laurent’s face shuddered. It lasted barely a blink before it was gone and the mask snapped back into place, but Auguste knew.

There was no way he hadn’t recognized him.

In five years, Prince Damianos had lost what little boyishness he’d had at nineteen. He’d filled out his shoulders, sharpened his face. Bound as he was, he looked more savage than man, barely restrained, vicious and unpredictable.

Councilor Guion said, “He is intended as a pleasure slave, but he isn’t trained. Kastor suggested that you might like to break him at your leisure.”

Auguste recoiled. A pleasure slave? This man was born to be king. And Kastor? He was sent by Kastor?

“I’m not desperate enough that I need to soil myself with filth,” said Laurent.

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“Break him on the cross. I believe that will discharge my obligation to the King of Akielos.”

“Laurent, no.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Auguste watched in growing horror as the handlers reached for the chain. No. No, no, no.

“Wait.”

The word cut through the clang of chain links. Everyone paused, including Auguste, as Laurent came forward.

“I want to speak to him. Remove the gag.”

The handler hesitated and Guion protested, but Laurent was prince and he was obeyed.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?”

It became immediately apparent that though Laurent might know who this man was, the others in the room did not. For they thought nothing of the question, dripping in malice.

Prince Damianos of Akielos did not respond.

“Perhaps he is defective,” suggested Guion, wringing his fat fingers.

Laurent ignored him and lowered his head as a snake might to get a better look at his prey. He said again, in crude, accented Akielon, “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

Damianos snapped, “I speak your language better than you speak mine, sweetheart.”

The room recoiled. Someone backhanded Damianos but Auguste didn’t see it. He was looking at Laurent.

Laurent, who straightened slowly, vertebra by vertebra, the picture of elegant control. The picture of a man on a precipice.

Auguste wished he’d been given form so he could put a hand on his brother’s shoulder, draw him into his chest as he had done when he was a boy.

The handler suggested the name Damen. It went over the heads of most of the courtiers, especially when Laurent didn’t appear to react.

But the reaction came in deliberate comment: “I heard that the King of Akielos may marry his mistress, Lady Jokaste. Is that true?”

The information seemed to hit Damianos like a blow as Laurent spoke so casually of his crumbling kingdom.

Auguste felt the sharp stab of pity, then a bit of relief when Laurent ordered his men to beat Damianos, rather than whip him. Laurent did not stay to watch, so Auguste didn’t either.

He went to his rooms, where Nicaise was glaring at a chessboard.

Auguste’s ghost hovered in the corner of the room as his brother approached the boy and knelt beside the board. Neither said anything, as was the way of many of their interactions, the knowledge that Nicaise would not last much longer weighing heavily in the air between them.

And he didn’t. Nicaise lost to Laurent rather quickly, then pouted, his lower lip jutting out.

 Laurent gave a strained smile that didn’t reach his eyes. Auguste hadn’t even known he could do that—fake happiness for another person. When Laurent was a boy, his smiles were genuine, crinkling the corners of his eyes, wide and often toothless, knocking the breath out of anyone who saw.

They played another round of chess, where Laurent let Nicaise win. The boy merely thought he was clever.

Auguste’s heart hurt.

A servant arrived to fetch Nicaise, one of the silent ones that Laurent had cultivated to his side so they would not tell the Regent. He collected these little bits of the palace, cultivating them with the grace of a king, earning their loyalty through small bits of kindness. Servants and guards and stable boys all ripened to their icy prince, who protected them in exchange for their secrecy. Those on the outside did not recognize it, only saw what Laurent wanted them to see.

But Auguste caught the small wave the servant gave Laurent before ushering Nicaise away and his heart hurt again.

Auguste knelt in this body that was not a body beside Laurent’s bed, where his brother curled in a ball and cried himself to sleep.

[pijulle]

At the end of Prince Gambit we see Lord Touars nine years old son, Thenevin. Then later in the book Lord Touars is killed by Damen on the battlefield.

Is there any fic that use this sort of parallels with Auguste-Laurent, where Thenevin come back as adult/teen to challenge Damen in a duel to avenge his father?

[thecapricunt1616]

Coriander (c.b. one-shot)

Snippet (more BTC): “I thought you'd never ask. I’m gonna go to the back office and wait. If you think you know what I need, then come on back. If you don’t want to, we can just pretend this never happened mm?” you got up, making sure to sway your hips a tad more as you went to the back office. You pushed the door shut behind you and dropped your tote under the desk, sitting down on it and leaning back against the wall. He came in 2 minutes later, cheeks red, biting his lip as he opened the door and saw you sitting on the desk.”

♡ Chapter Inspo: Love, health, immortality, and protection. Tie fresh coriander with a ribbon and hang in the home to bring peace & protection. Add to love charms and spells to bring romance or use in ritual work to ease the pain of a broken love affair. Promotes peace among those who are unable to get along. Use the seeds in love sachets and spells. ♡ Summary: You are in a FWB situation with Richie, Mikey dies - Carmy comes home to run The Beef, and suddenly...you find yourself in a FWB situation with Carmy as well, what happens when Carmy makes you two official in secret so he can have you all to himself? ♡ W/C: 5.3K+ ♡ Posted Date: 05/29/2024 ♡ A/N: Hellooooo! Happy day 4/7 of the Capri 200 Follower Celebration Extravaganza!!! You can find said extravaganza ♡Here♡ this celebration will be going until next Sunday (06/02/24) so get your requests in! Here's another celebration ask on the books! This ask is from a sweet anon, ask can be found right ♡Here♡ - Thank you so much for your request! As you can tell by the word count I got very inspired! I hope you enjoy :D This could easily have a part 2 so if you want one, just let me know in the comments This is kind of a Richie/Carmy thing i've never written Richie before and I had a whole lot of fun doing so! ♡ Warnings for BTC: Swearing, FWB Relationships, Smoking, Usual TB trigger warnings, Asshole!Carmy (kinda), Angst, No real comfort to be found in the end, Age gap relationships, Rough sex, smutsmutsmut, No uses of Y/N, Reader not described (pics are for vibes only)

♡ 𝐌𝐲 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 ♡ ➵ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 ♡ ➵ 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞 ♡ ➵ 𝘊𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 / 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘵 ♡ ➵ 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 ♡

You had been working at The Bear since it was The Beef. 3 months before Mikey died, you were hired as a food runner. You’d met Mike maybe twice? Both times, the guy was high out of his mind- so you couldn’t say much about his character. 

Richie on the other hand, was flirty. He was handsome, he was funny, he had a huge cock. You were in your third year of college, Richie was smitten with your girlish charm, and you’d fucked those 3 months pretty consistently - until Carmy came back to Chicago. 

You’d been warned his ‘cousin’ was a big shot NYC chef, ‘Michelin Starred’ Richie said one night while fucking your brains out after a stressful shift as he smoked a cigarette in his shitty, dimly lit apartment. Puffs of smoke left his lips as your ass bounced against his hips and he rambled on about what had pissed him off today, 

“Ye’ sweetheart- fuck-“ he took a long inhale before continuing -  “mm’y’fuckin tight baby- shit-“ he stuttered as your pussy clenched around his cock firmly as your second orgasm washed over you, thighs shivering. “Thaaas it- huh? Gooood girl. Knew y’could do it babygirl” he kissed the dimple on your spine as you shivered, tendrils of smoke trailing up your back and over your hips. 

He then sat up, casually taking another drag, tightening his non-dominant hand around your hip so there would be little fingertip bruises once more over the yellowing hearing ones, and continued, his bruising pace getting rougher and quicker as he continued chasing his own orgasm. 

The meat of your ass and the skin of his hips made smacking sounds as they came together. Pathetic little whines drag from your lips with each rough kiss the tip of his cock gave your cervix as he just continued talking like he wasn’t using you like a fuck doll. 

“he uh, has a Michelin star- whatever that means? He’s a little prick. Guess that’s ahh-fuck- that’s why Mike left it t’him- he knows how t’make fancy shit- little fuckin’ Eleven Madison Park dickhead”  he grunted as he filled you up, spanking you roughly for good measure. 

“Good girl. Always take it like a little whore mm?” He puts out his cigarette in the ashtray. He pats your hip gently as he pulls out, collapsing next to you with an old man grunt that you always teased him for. “Ey’ sweet girl, Y’wanna rub my back since I fucked y’so good mm? So I won’t be sore at work tomorrow?” He pulled you close, kissing your neck, his stubble making you shiver as cum leaked down your beard-burned thighs. 

That was how you spent one to three nights a week since you’d started working at The Beef. 

Then, Carmy came. For the first 6 or so months, it was business as usual for you and Richie. Quiet spanks on the ass as you walked by him during rush as you brought food out to a customer, sometimes letting him fuck your face in the back alley as he went on about what an asshole Carmen was being that day. 

You just took it, the fighting, the bickering, the sexual tension. You were the go-between for the both of them, when they weren’t talking Richie would bug you to go tell Carmy what he needed to say. “Immature asshole” you’d call him at the end of the day as he knelt between your thighs in that same shitty apartment, sucking on your clit while his beard scratched up your thighs. He’d just chuckle into you, squeezing your thighs amusedly with his large hands. 

Then one day, you were in the dry storage, grabbing something for Marcus that was on the bottom shelf and heavy. You were bent over, trying to tug it out and the door shut behind you.  “Hey- sorry just gonna reach over you-“ Carmy. When you felt him press against your ass like that, his tattooed hand resting on your hip. You felt heat rushing straight for your core, your stomach flipping and fluttering.

Then, you started making moves. A brush of the hand here, a smile there, a giggle at one of his dorky jokes no one else bothered to pay attention to, of course, he noticed. The young piece of ass that used to spend all day giggling and shooting the shit with his older cousin was into him now. The first night it happened, you made sure to pick up a double on a day you usually didn’t go home with Richie, and while everyone except Carmy did their best to rush out the door as soon as they possibly could, you stuck behind. 

You went to the bathroom, fixed up your hair, and your makeup not enough to be noticeable to a guy that you’d changed, but enough to look fresh. You put on some more lipgloss, freshening up your body spray and hiking your tote bag onto your shoulder before heading out of the ladies' room into the back-of-house. You heard the swish swish of a scrub brush, and the plopping of water - and knew Carmy was still in there scrubbing something. When you turned the corner to see him on his hands and knees, muscular arms flexing as he really scrubbed that floor. You could tell there was something….about Carmen Berzatto. 

It wasn’t just the fact his brother died, it wasn’t this strange stoic seriousness he had at not even 35, it was something else. Dedication, maybe? But you weren't sure to what because not a day went by without referring to the restaurant as ‘a shithole with decent sandwiches’ - you knew he was just keeping it running because it’s what Cicero wanted and no one denied that man. But you wanted to see if that dedication or learning ability translated into the bedroom. “Damn- You could eat off that grout” you teased. His head popped up, blue eyes twinkling under the iridescent lights.

This damn family and their pretty eyes

“The hell you still doin’ here? Y’shift ended what-” he looked at the clock, “An hour and six minutes ago” he continued scrubbing at the tile with the tiny little brush. 

“Oh you memorized my shift schedule?” you teased, a small smile on your lips. You were towering over him, being sure to block his light so he would give you his attention once more.

“I make the schedule, yeah I know when my employees work” he looked up at you again “n’y’re in my light” he pushed his greasy curls out of his way with his dry hand. 

“Mmm- last I checked Chef Syd did the scheduling- unless…that changed?” you asked and he looked back at the floor, scrubbing over the same spot he had been since you came over here. 

He made a little ‘mm’ noise and was quiet for a few moments as he continued to scrub. “So why are you still here if y’not gettin’ paid?” he asked again. You crouched next to him, hugging your knees and he stopped, looking over at you. He could smell your perfume perfectly, your lipgloss glitter was shimmering in the light. He could very well near smell the mint coming off of your breath from the gum you had chewed an hour earlier. He swallowed thickly, blinking a few times how he did when he was confused he noticed and his eyes fan to your lips before back up to your eyes. “Uh-”

You cut him off “Cause I haven’t met you, Carmy. We haven’t talked, Why’s that?” you question with a small, innocent smile. It was true, he all but ignored you while he’d been here. The only time he spoke to you was when he absolutely had to tell you something or when he was assigning you your morning tasks when you first got in. 

“W-What d’you wanna know?” he asked, tongue darting out to quickly wet his lips. He was nervous. 

“Why do you ignore me for starts” you jet your bottom lip slightly out into a little barely there pout for added effect, “Tina asked me a few days ago what I did, so what did I do Carmy?” you ask gently. You knew it was because you caught him staring at you so often he thought you thought he was a creep, but you thought it was adorable how flustered he got when he’d been caught and quickly tried to make it look like he’d been focused on something else. 

“Nothin- nothin’ y-you didn’t do anything m’sorry I made you feel- what’re you-” he trailed off as you gently fixed his Saint Anthony chain so it was facing front, carefully slipping your finger under the loop and pinching it between your forefinger and thumb, adjusting the clasp to be at the back of his neck. 

“Sorry, small things like that bug me, I think little things bug you too, Carm” you said softly. His cheeks were getting pink, his pupils were widening. Your plan was working. “Is this ok?” you gently fixed the sleeve of his t-shirt over his bicep, the fabric deliciously stretching over his buff arm 

“Mhmm” he muttered, breath catching as your hand trailed up his shoulder and resting there. “Did you um- did you need something…” he asked, voice that delicious kind of soft you adored. 

“I thought you'd never ask. I’m gonna go to the back office and wait. If you think you know what I need, then come on back. If you don’t want to, we can just pretend this never happened mm?” you got up, making sure to sway your hips a tad more as you went to the back office. You pushed the door shut behind you and dropped your tote under the desk, sitting down on it and leaning back against the wall. He came in 2 minutes later, cheeks red, biting his lip as he opened the door and saw you sitting on the desk.

He blinked rapidly, as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing “Jesus Christ” he muttered to himself, shutting the door behind him. “Y-y’re sure. Like- wait you mean- you mean you want me t-” 

“Do whatever you want with me, chef,” you told him in a sultry tone, watching him closely as he walked over. You’d assumed he’d be just like Richie, rough, unforgiving, and sometimes even a little mean, but the way he cupped your cheek was…gentle. 

“Are you sure you want this? M’y’r boss..I don’ want you t’feel like i’m…making you, ‘er somethin’” he ran his thumb over your cheekbone. He was so close that you could smell the cigarette smoke on his breath as well as the musky scent of the long workday mixed with his cologne. You were nearly put in a trance by it. In response, you gently rest your palm on the back of his neck, pulling him closer and giving him a gentle kiss. 

He leaned forward, resting his hand on the side of your thigh and kissing you back, his lips hesitant on yours at first but when he felt your tongue swipe his bottom lip, his hand moved to your shoulder and gently squeezed as he opened his mouth, tongue darting out to find yours. He moaned softly at your taste, his breath coming out in small hot puffs that fanned your upper lip as you explored his mouth with your tongue. His hand that was on the desk gently moved to your hip, giving a tentative squeeze. You grabbed it, bringing it to your breast and with your hand over his, guiding him to squeeze and massage it. 

He let out a little hum of realization and did as you asked, only able to do so much with a t-shirt bra and work shirt, he with trembling hands tugged at the bottom of your navy blue The Beef t-shirt, asking for permission to take it off. You pulled away, swiftly taking off the shirt and reconnecting your lips with his. Your hands made your way behind your back, unhooking your bra and pulling it off, bringing both of his hands to your breasts. You whine softly as he pinches and rolls your nipples between his fingers, the action making them even harder and perkier. He kissed down your jaw, nipping gently and sucking on the sensitive skin. 

Richie can’t know this happened 

“N-no marks babe- kay?” you said a bit breathlessly, hand trailing up to gently tug at his hair. He hummed in response, kissing down and mouthing over the hickeys Richie had left earlier in the week. You bit your lip as he continued to roll and tug your nipples kissing down your neck and when he finally got to your breasts you heard him mutter

“So fuckin perfect” before he took one of your perky abused nipples into his mouth, lightly sucking as you combed through his curls, taking out all the knots with your nimble fingers. With his other hand, he continued to massage your other breast, causing a moan to fall from your lips. 

“You wanna fuck me? Mm? Right here over the desk? You can go as hard as you want yea?” you told him, it was nice that he was spending so much time dedicated to making you feel good, but were confused why he hadn’t just…bent you over and gotten it over with by now like Richie usually did when you fucked at work. 

He pulled off with a pop, looking up at you with those wide eyes that had been darkened with lust. “Uh- Can I taste you..instead?” he asked shyly, resting his chin on your sternum gently, his hot breath puffing from his nose and tickling your chest. You raised your brows, looking at the clock - wasn’t he exhausted?! If he ate you out, that would be what - another 15 minutes on top of him getting off, would probably be another 20, so you both wouldn’t be getting out of there until 1:30 or so. 

Well, if it's what he wants.

“Sure honey” You got up, slipping out of the sweats you took the train home in usually, setting them on the desk to sit on and pushing your panties down as well after kicking off your Ugg slipper shoe-type things and sitting back on the desk, spreading your thighs for him and resting one of your heels on the edge. His mouth parted slightly, nearly dropping to his knees, his curls falling in front of his eyes but he didn’t seem to care as he kissed your inner thighs, almost enjoying his time getting you worked up. He gently sucked on your nether lip, groaning lightly at your flavor. Your mouth drops as you watch him, fully blissed out as he laps at your wet folds.

“Holy shit Carmy” you breathe, gently pushing his bangs back so you could see his pretty blue eyes once again. He looks up at you, sandy brown long lashes nearly touching his bushy brows as he connects his mouth with your clit, flicking his tongue over it and running his jaw back and forth messily, a mix of drool and your arousal running over his chin. “Wow feels so good - doin’ so good Carmy” you breathe, head falling back in pleasure and breathing picking up. He was really good at this. When Richie was in the mood (AKA his back wasn't hurting, or his knees, or his shoulder) he would give you the pleasure of eating you out, and he did it well, he always made sure you came when he did it, and you never had to fake it with him.

You weren’t going to have to fake it with Carmy, either, because holy shit - he was amazing at this. You felt that familiar tightening within’ your stomach within minutes. He took one of your thighs, throwing it over his shoulder to give himself a better angle, and ran his tongue down, slipping it inside of your pussy and moaning as you gush over his tongue when his nose runs back and forth over your clit, stimulating it most deliciously. Your thigh twitched, toes curling, and a sharp moan comes from your throat, biting down roughly on your lip. “God- god Carmy, I’m cumming” you warn, Gripping his curls rougher which seemed to edge him on, rubbing you rougher with his nose and curling his tongue up against your gummy walls, wet lewd noises coming from between your thighs. 

Within moments there was a fire of pleasure shooting beneath your skin as you cried out in ecstasy. Your eyes rolled beneath your lids, letting go of his hair and gripping the desk instead with a crushing grip as he worked you through the intense waves of overstimulating delight that ripped through you relentlessly. He finished with a chaste kiss on your thigh before grabbing your bra and helping you put it on as well as your panties, even finding the shirt you’d thrown and shaking off the dust from the floor before handing it over. “That was uh…really good, thank you” he wiped his chin and lips with the back of his hand, rubbing it on the back of his jeans. You shamelessly stared at his crotch and noticed the hard bulge in his jeans before looking back up at him.

“You don’t want to get rid of that? I can suck you off if you want I have a hair tie” you said, holding up your wrist to show him. He shook his head, running a hand through his hair. 

“No- no you don’t owe me anything, I got what I needed don’worry. See y’tomorrow- make sure you leave through the back I already locked up the front” he said, leaving the office and closing the door behind him to give you some privacy. You sat in shock for a moment, blinking a few times. All he wanted from you was to eat you out? You’d never met another guy who simply ate you out and that was it - they’d always…expected something from you after, and of course, you gave it because you felt like they’d paid you a favor just by eating you out first even if you didn’t finish. You slip your work shirt back on, get up, and put on your sweats with shaky legs before slipping your shoes back on. 

It continued like this, the days you weren't fucking Richie, you were in the back office getting eaten until you nearly passed out. Until The Beef started getting renovated, then the days you weren’t getting your brains fucked out in Richie's bed, your thighs spread wide at odd hours of the morning on Carmens’ couch, some random cooking show playing in the background as he lapped at your pussy like a man starved on his knees in front of you after kissing down your body like you were a goddess to be worshipped. If you were quite honest, you liked this routine. It felt perfect for you, you knew where your feelings lay for both of the men, and it was a stable comfortable routine on both sides. 

For Richie, it was fun and flirtatious. Sneaky spanks when you came to visit and help him renovate the restaurant with Neil, rough makeout sessions in the back alley when he went out for a smoke, rough near bruising quickies in the soon-to-be walk-in freezer that hadn’t been set up yet, so it was a nice little private area you two could go. He’d even started stealing a kiss or two when you weren’t being sexual. He was protective of you, Carmy started noticing this. That was why a few weeks before the big opening, he had started being a bit more handsy with you. 

The two of you started spending a lot more time together, and you realized he was even opening up to you a bit more. He began asking to see you more often, taking you out with him when he had to run errands for the opening. When he took you with him to the restaurant supply store, he had his hand rested on your lower back, gently rubbing circles as he explained to you the difference between the bunch of different kinds of cutlery. You had been baffled that there were 11 different kinds of butter knives there and he explained to you the difference between them, as well as showed you which sets went together.

It was strange you were clenching your thighs together while a man chatted you up over silverware, but the way he guided your hand to hold them so you were doing it ‘properly’ when you picked one up to get a closer look, had your heart jumping to your throat. That specific encounter was the first time you’d been able to really fuck him, and also draw some dominance out of him as well. It wasn't even his day with you, he knew it - he very well knew this, but little did you know that was the reason why he did it. You rode him hard and fast in the back of his van in the parking lot, he’d made sure to move to a spot in the way back where no one else had been parked so the two of you didn’t get caught and thrown on a registry, of course.

So, that night when you had met up with Richie after he had made you dinner and bent you over the couch for your usual Wednesday night activities - by the first yank of your hips you squeaked, “Gentle - please, daddy, not too rough..” you were glad he was taking you from behind, because you couldn’t bare the confused sweet sorry look on his face. You never asked him to be gentle with you, of course he obliged- because it was all an act. Richie was a big softie, a teddy bear. He just liked to fool around and put on the big mean daddy act in the bedroom because it was fun for the both of you.t in the bedroom because it was fun for the both of you. But he would never really want to hurt you. 

“Wha’s wrong baby, mm? Why you hurtin’?” He held you up by your ribs, sweetly kissing your hairline as he thrusted slower and softer in and out of you, gently resting his lips against your forehead “was I too hard Monday? M’sorry my sweet girl” he rubbed over your breast gently as he continued his gentler strokes. His sweet girl. That caused your heart to sting a bit. You didn’t know that he liked you too, the same way you liked him. Unless it was just an act? You hope it was an act. 

“Yeah” you said, knees going weaker when he reached around your front and toyed with your clit, your hips bucking at the soreness Carmen had left you with earlier. 

“Yeah? Y’never been like this before sweetheart” he kissed over your neck, beard scratching at your skin. 

“Mm- s’okay- feels good- like it when it hurts like this” you rest your head back on his shoulder, closing your eyes and feeling a pit of guilt setting in your stomach. Would it hurt him if he found out you had started fooling around with Carmy? You hoped not, but couldn’t help but wonder. They were family. Most of all you would hope it wouldn’t make him insecure due to the much closer proximity Carmy and your ages were. You were so lost in your own head that you didn’t even realize he was finishing inside of you like normal moaning into your hair. 

“So good- such a good girl” he kissed your head. “go get cleaned up kid, gotta get outta here early t’day cus’ I needa go to Eva’s school play thing” he pats your ass gently and pulled out, leaving you draped over the arm of the couch naked from the waist down and cum leaking down your thighs. You shut your eyes for a moment, rubbing over your face before standing up and doing as he said. 

A little over a week later, Carmy asked you to go straight with him. Well. Not really, he asked you if you were fucking other people to which you gave a simple yes and he just said ‘oh…wish I could be the only one’ you teased him and asked if that meant you wanted to be together, just the two of you and he said yes. So, you stopped fucking Richie. You stopped letting him kiss you in dry storage - you stopped having your ass be available for slapping as he walked by. 

And man, was it hard. He looked like a sad puppy, a small pout coming to his lips when you turned your cheek causing him to kiss that instead of your lips. “ ‘ey-“ he turned your face towards him “where’s my kiss?” You just looked down at the floor, before turning and grabbing the bag of onions you’d been sent in there to get and saying 

“I don’t think we should keep doing this. We should…just work together.” As much as you hated to say it, you did. Then you left the dry storage, and Richie felt his heart crack slightly. Things with him felt way more real then with Carmy, but Carmy was the one who asked you to be his, so you just…went with who asked. You had thought that was the best choice. Even though you stomped on his heart that day, he still cracked jokes with you, and was the same sweet dork you worked with before you started hooking up, the sweet dork that made you want to hook up with him in the first place. 

2 days before the friends and family opening, Carmy invited you over to his so he could cook for you. You’d been able to have his cooking once before, when he’d had you come over right in front of Richie at The Beef, and held a spoon to your lips, a hand under your chin for you to try something he’d come up with. Tonight he was making his familys pasta, and when you’d got there you nearly jumped his bones when he was wearing a work shirt from The Beef. You’d never seen him in it before, he’d never worn it to work even though everyone else had to be wearing theirs.

 You had a joke with yourself that he knew how yummy and slutty he looked in those stupid plain white t’s so thats why he kept wearing them.

“Hey sexy” You’d said when he opened the door, standing on your toes to kiss him deeply. He hummed, pulling you inside quickly and shutting the door behind you both so no neighbors would see. He grabbed your ass with his palms, squeezing it and spanking you lightly.

“Hey pretty girl” he said, kissing your top lip messily “y’hungry, right? Dinners almost done” he carefully brushed your hair from your face, looking down into your eyes with one of his sweet smiles.

“Mm always hungry for the best chef in the worlds food” you mused, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck and playing with his curls “Why’d you never wear this at work, mm? Y’look sexy babe” you kissed his neck. He hummed, hands trailing up your back and palming over your ribs.

“Cause they’re itchy, and it’s laundry day” he said as you rubbed over his chest, grabbing at his pecks and squeezing at the flesh. He chuckled, brushing your hands “jesus someones handsy eh? He cupped your cheeks, angling your eyes towards him “food’ll burn, go wash up yeah? I’ll get y’plate ready” he pecked your lips and ran his hands down your front, grabbing your hand nd pressing it to his lips before heading back to the kitchen.

You followed as he said, going to the restroom and washing your hands as well as your makeup off with the makeup wipes that lived in his bathroom for you now, before going to his bedroom. You stepped out of your stupid waitress uniform, slipping on his white shirt that kissed just below your bum. You padded out to the kitchen, seeing him wiping the edge of your plates off with a paper towel, a kitchen rag over his shoulder. God, he looked so amazing in his element. “Hey” you said gently, going to hug him from behind 

“Hey sweet girl, just about done” he sprinkled some fresh parsley over the dish masterfully, before gently rubbing over the back of your hand and bringing it to his lips, kissing it. “How was the train?” he asked and you pulled away, walking over to his couch and sitting since he’d never bothered to get a kitchen table. 

“Okay, weirdo was playing a ukelele again” you plopped down, crossing your legs and looking over at the random dutch cooking program he had been watching from his station in the kitchen, “You speak dutch?” you asked, he chuckled and you weren’t sure at which statement. 

“No, I don’t, I just watch, and I know what they’re doin’ by the look usually.” he came over, setting a beautiful plate of pasta in your lap and sitting down with the small pot he used for sauce, that he’d mixed the noodles in half hazardly and twirled some of the noodles on the fork, taking a bite. 

Classic Carmy, serving you a Michelin Starred dish, and eating the leftover scraps. 

That was the night you really fell for him. Especially after he did the same thing that he did the first time the two of you hooked up, put you first. Even if he didn’t want you to touch him, even if he was too shy to cuddle you before you fell asleep. You really felt your heart crack open for him.

The night of friends and family, though, you may as well have been a stranger. No matter what you did that night to get his attention, he fully ignored you and snapped at you, and everyone, to ‘pick up your fucking pace’. You had never had him snap at you like this. All you wanted to do was go joke around with Richie, maybe pull him into the dry storage for a quick makeout - but you couldn’t, not anymore. You missed him. You missed your old man, as much as he despised you calling him that, you adored the way he frowned and spanked you in response to the name, telling you ‘it’s already unfair when we go out they think y’my daughter’ 

When you had find out that Carmy had been locked in the freezer - your first instict was to rush to the back of house, comfort him- tell him it would all be fine, but you knew you couldn’t do that, and it would piss him off if you did so. You were his well kept secret, and he wanted you to stay that way. You had found out from Syd, who was really the only one to know about your short-lived relationship - since Carmy seemed to be more open with her then he did with you - his supposed girlfriend. 

“He’s ok, he’s fine- look, just keep pace, ok, me and Richie will handle this - bring the plates from tinas station to table 11, ok?” she told you calmly, giving you a quick reassuring hug before whisking you off to do your job. You did as she said, putting on a smile and bringing the food out to the table, setting it down the way you’d been trained and telling them what was what before telling them to enjoy and heading back to the kitchen to pick up another round of food to bring out to an awaiting hungry group of patrons.

Three hours later, when the night was finally coming to a close- you decided it was a good time to go check on Carmy. All the guests had left, and it was just the staff at this point. You knew that the fire department was on the way since Richie had let everyone know they’d been called, and Syd was back there trying to calm him down. What you didn’t know, was Syd had told Carmy to hold on for a moment because she was gonna go tell her father goodbye and thank him for coming, so he had been left all alone in the back of house, in the freezer.

You walked in, hearing him rambling as you walk up, listening closely to what he was saying.

“Like- Like right? Right?” he chuckled a bit “W-what the fuck was I thinkin’? Huh? The fuck was I thinkin’, Syd? Like - Like I was gonna be in- “ he laughed a bit “In- i-in a relationship- er- er some shit? I-I’m a fuckin- a fuckin psycho- thats thats why, thats why I’m good at what I do, thats how I operate, Syd, you wanna be the best? I am the fucking best, because I didn’t have- any- any of this - this fuckin…bullshit! Right? I-I- I could focus, and I could concentrate, and I- I had a fuckin’ routine, an- and I had fuckin cell reception! An-” he paused. You felt your heart crack, tears filling your eyes,

You were bullshit to him.

He continued, “I dont need to provide amusement or enjoyment. I dont need to- to receive, any amusement- or - or enjoyment. Y’know? And I’m…I’m completely fine, with that. Because absolutely no amount of good, is worth how fuckin’ shitty this feels. S’just…a complete waste of my fucking time.” 

You let out the sob you were holding back, gasping a breath, shaking your head and with a trembling voice, you say, “I’m really sorry you feel this way, Carmy…” before rushing out of the kitchen, hot tears running down your cheeks. You grab your bag from behind the counter, slamming into richie on the way out of the restaurant and he stopped you, grabbing your arm. 

“Hey- hey kid” he said, and the soothing sound of his voice made you break down fully, starting to sob so hard you couldnt see straight, collapsing into his chest. 

“I’m sorry- I’m so sorry for being so shitty- I- I dont deserve you” you cried, hugging him tightly, “I have-” you took a gasping breath and look up at him “I- i’m done- tell Carmy that I’m done here….” you let go of him and rush out, quickly walking towards the train station the wind whipping your wet cheeks. You pulled out your phone, calling Carmy to leave him a voicemail. 

“Hey, uh…I don’t know why you fuckin’ asked me out- but uh- fuck you, carmy. Youre right- you deserve nothing- youre a coward, and an asshole. I hate you for making me love you” you hung up, shoving your phone in your pocket, not even caring the admission that slipped past your lips as you stomped up the stairs to the L platform.

Back at the restaurant, Richie storms into the kitchen, slamming his palm on the freezer door. “Yo- the fuck did you just do?” he asked, voice laced with anger.

“I-I don’know. I-I don’ know what the fuck she heard. Dunno” Carmy said, voice indifferent to the entire thing, which just made anger bubble in his chest at his lack of caring. Richie slams his hand into the door harder, making Carmy jump a bit.

“No- asshole, I said - the fuck did you just say, to that fuckin’ girl?” Richie repeated, getting louder now.

“Richie” Carmy said, sighing to himself.

“Richie? Richie What- Tell me! Tell me, What the fuck. What the fuck did you just say to that fuckin girl, Carmen” 

“Will you just shut the FUCK UP AND GET ME THE FUCK OUT OF HERE PLEASE!” Carmy shouts, not having any part of being scolded when his fingertips felt like ice. 

“Oh- oh yeah, I’ll get y’the fuck outta there, Donna” Richie mocked, so angry he didnt care how deeply he cut in the moment.

“The fuck you just say t’me?” Carmy challanged

“I-” Richie sighed, knowing he just took things too far and dropped his head back in annoyance.

“N-no- Richie- What the fuck did you just say?” Carmy asks, louder this time, Pounding on the door when he didnt get a response. 

“Yo- cousin, cousin look - I don’t know why you gotta fuck up everything good in your life. That girl is nice, shes a good fuckin friend t’you” Richie explained, completely oblivious to everything that had really been going on. 

“Are you -” Carmen laughs “Are you fucking kidding me right now?!” he spits, the comparison to his mother causing fire to race through his veins.

“No- No i’m not, cousin, someones gotta tell you this shit, ‘eh? First fuckin friend after comin’ home you go ahead and make her cry?!” Richie scolded.

“FUCK YOU! Fuck you Richie!” Carmy yells, running his hands through his hair,

“Ohhh yea, here we go, fuck me, yeeeaaa Carm” he mocked him.

“Yeah! Yeah fuck you fuckin loser. You wouldn’t have shit without me. So fuck you!” carmy shouted at him, his breath coming out in large frosty puffs in front of him.

“Oh-” Richie chuckled, a twinge in his chest that Carmy was willing to cut so deep so quickly “Yeah- yeah tough guy” he mocked, voice getting meeker

“Yeah! Yeah! You- Or y’fuckin kid- fuckin loser - only reason you have anything is me!” Carmy roars, slamming on the door “so ye’ cousin, fuck you!” 

“My KID? Y’gonna talk about my KID? Well at least I have a fuckin kid! What d’you have other then a restaurant, jackass!” he yelled back.

“YEAH? I HAVE THE GIRL YOU BEEN FUCKIN’ FOR THE PAST YEAR, MORON. Why you think she dropped you so fast? Huh? You fucking idiot! She chose me- so ye’. I am the reason you have what you have AND I’LL TAKE WHATEVER I FUCKING WANT. FUCK YOU” He yelled through the door, kicking it with his chefs clog.

Richies mouth dropped, stepping back and feeling as if he’d just been stabbed in the heart. “What?” he said, believing his ears were playing tricks on him, how could Carmy do such a thing to him?

“Yeah- yeah. She chose me, and guess what, I fucked her because i wanted to show you I could. Y’fuckin prick” he sat down on one of the boxes of frozen steaks, rubbing over his face roughly. Richie raced out of the kitchen, telling Syd he was ‘done’ and quickly taking out his phone to call you. 

Back in the freezer, Carmens phone buzzed. He looked at it, seeing a voicemail from you that finally pushed through. When he heard your sad, broken voice, admit that he’d caused you to hate him by his behaviour made him chuck his phone against the freezer wall so hard that the screen shattered.

Never so badly had he ever fucked up, and by doing so he lost the best thing to ever happen to him.

[equallyloyalandlethal]

Can we know more about the "puppy pack motel" fic? Also, is the blind Theo au on ur AO3, or will it be at some point?

The Puppy Pack goes to the Glen Capri (ch 1 is on ao3)

Here's a snippet from ch 6 of 7

No sooner than Theo slid the truck to a stop in the lot, the passenger door swung open and his favorite McCall Pack beta vacated the vehicle with a vehemence he had not seen in a while. He turned the key, killing the engine, but made no other move to vacate his seat. The prickle of eyes on him, peeling back the layers of him and trying to dig icy picks into him, had him shaking out his shoulders and rubbing at his nape. Hypervigilance was the name of his game, and had been for a long time, but this was strange. Colder. 

Brett’s snarl as he opened his own door and threw himself out shook Theo loose from his head, jarring him back to reality. He twisted around, reaching for the spare hoodie he had tucked beneath the passenger seat and throwing it on before getting out as well. 

In far too level of a tone to be joking, Brett said, “Alec, I know you can hear me, I swear to god, if I smell anything in the car when I get back, I'm going to rip your fangs out one by one.”

More out of habit and instinct, Theo chuckled and added, loud enough for the wolf’s phone to pick it up, “I have the necessary experience to help with that if you want.” 

Hayden added something after him, but the hollow chill in his chest held too much of his focus for him to quite catch the words. 

Liam’s half-grumbled “Really? That's the one you've decided is your best friend?” should have pulled a smile onto his face. 

Maybe it was the drive. It had been a few months since he had done any driving longer than a couple of hours at a time. 

Regardless of what put him in the odd headspace, he pulled away from the group and made his way to the front desk. Checking in went smoothly. Apparently this was not the first time they have had guests from Beacon Hills and their little troop was not even the biggest group to ever stay from their quaint little hellhole.

[therisingkings]

All is Well

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Check it out on Ao3 as well as more works by me

After the events of King's Rising, Damen is once again on the verge of losing the love of his life. A lucky assassin managed to bring harm to His Majesty, Laurent of Vere, but it is not the first time Laurent has overcome the odds.

*****

The world moved in slow motion. It was as if a handful of moments had stretched out into an eternity as Damen’s mind gave way to instinct, thought traded for movement.

There was a man in front of him. Then that man was dead, Damen’s sword removing his head from his shoulders. Another assassin advanced, brandishing a wicked looking dagger. His eyes were on Laurent, where Damen had instinctively pushed him behind. Damen grabbed that man’s wrist and twisted, bringing the man to the ground. He slammed his fist brutally into his head just as a wet, pained noise came from behind. 

The world suddenly rushed back into real time as a third assassin pulled a dagger out of Laurent’s back. Laurent’s eyes were wide, another sound escaping his parted lips. He collapsed at the knees, then into Damen’s arms.

“Long live the King,” the assassin hissed just before Nikandros, having been barely a dozen paces behind them, slit his throat. 

Damen couldn’t draw breath to shout, which was ridiculous. He hadn’t been stabbed. Laurent had. Laurent, who was bleeding, his hands fisted in Damen’s jacket, his lips parted. Trembling, Damen tried to cover the wound, but he couldn’t tell where it was. Laurent’s entire side was a darker blue than his clothing, but red spiderwebbed across Damen’s knuckles when he pressed his hand to the wet fabric.

“‘Get me a physician!” Nikandros roared. He knelt beside them. “Exalted, we have to get him inside.”

Damen blinked at him. His mind flashed between the present moment, in the garden he and Laurent walked through regularly, and five years ago, when he’d been bleeding out in the slave baths and pronounced King. He thought, I should be the one bleeding.

“--you hear me? Damen!”

Snapping back to the present, Laurent heavy in his arms, Damen pushed mightily to his feet. He needed to get them out of the garden. Into somewhere with limited exits, where he could be sure that only people he let in were in the room. He didn’t let himself look at Laurent’s face as he made his way as quickly as possible up the marble steps, back into the palace. Every face he saw was an enemy, every guard a threat. 

Nikandros shoved through the crowd that had formed ahead of them, shouting commands and pushing people that stayed too long in the way. Despite that, it still felt like an eternity before they reached the Kings’ private quarters.

“Where the fuck is the physician?” Nikandros shouted in Akielon, to a poor Veretain guard. Realizing his mistake as Damen pushed past him into the room, he said, “Medic, idiot!” in sloppy Veretain.

Damen laid Laurent on their bed. He could feel every single beat of his heart all the way in his throat as his finger’s fumbled on the stupid fucking laces that held Laurent’s jacket together.

Then Nikandros was there, a knife in his hand, and Damen moved without thought, lunging for him. 

“To cut the ties,” Nik panted as Damen forced him face first into the wall. “That’s what the knife is for. Damen, just cut the ties.”

It took Damen’s mind an extra, crucial moment to understand. Nikandros hadn’t meant to finish the job— he’d been offering Damen the knife hilt first.

Damen let him go and swept the blade off of the floor. It cut through the material of Laurent’s jacket like butter, then through his shirt.

Laurent was blinking at him dazedly as Damen forced himself to slow down, carefully turning him so he could see the wound. Damen didn’t have a whole lot of medical knowledge, but he knew a good knife strike when he saw one. The blade had gone straight into Laurent’s side, just beneath the ribs. He was still bleeding. Damen bunched up his tattered shirt and pressed it against the area.

There was a cold hand on his face. Laurent was touching his cheek, his brow furrowed. “You’re crying.”

“Laurent,” Damen sobbed. 

Laurent’s face was as pale as Damen had ever seen, his lips bloodless. His eyes had taken on a dull, glazed appearance as he concerned himself with the tears on Damen’s cheeks.

“Shh.” Damen took his hand, kissing his wrist. “Shh. Pascal is on his way.” Then he turned slightly to shout in Veretain, “Where the fuck is Pascal?”

“I’m here,” Pascal said, hobbling into his room. His newest assistant came in after him, hauling all the medical supplies the poor girl could carry. Pascal waved his freckled hands at Damen. “Get out of the way. Let me see him.”

Laurent let out a noise of protest as Damen backed away, hands reaching blindly for him. 

Pascal examined the wound, his wrinkled face pinched. He snapped something at his assistant, who flipped open the medical trunk. 

Damen paced like a caged lion as they worked. After a few minutes, Pascal turned to him. “He needs stitches. You have to hold him still so we can work.”

“Right, right.” Damen went around to the other side of the bed, crawling carefully across, so not as do jostle Laurent. He gripped his hip with one hand, trapping his legs between his own, and cupped the back of his head with the other hand.

“What’s going on?” Laurent asked as Damen guided his face into his chest.

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” He stroked his hair soothingly and nodded to Pascal.

It was not a pleasant experience. Laurent thrashed at first, trying to push his way out of Damen’s hold. Damen had to fix his grip to a near crushing one, trapping Laurent’s arms between their bodies. When Laurent realized he couldn’t get out, he resorted to letting out screaming sobs.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Damen felt like his own heart was collapsing in on itself. The stitching took longer than Damen thought it would, and each tug sent Laurent into another fit of pain. By the end of it, thankfully or not, he’d lost consciousness, going limp in Damen’s arms.

“Done.” Pascal stepped back. “He’s lost a lot of blood and the risk of infection is high. Tell me, was there any poison on the blade?”

Damen hadn’t even thought of that. “I don’t know. I didn’t see any.”

“There wasn’t,” Nikandros said, eyes on Laurent. “One of the assassin’s is still alive. We have him under heavy guard beneath the keep.”

“Kill him.” Damen gently rested Laurent against the pillows and stood. “I want every single one of them dead.”

Pascal and his assistant exchanged a look. 

Nikandros stepped forward. “Exalted, we should—”

“I said kill him,” Damen snapped.

Nikandros gripped his shoulder when Damen tried to walk past him to give the order. He said, “Damen. We need to know if there’s any more and what their plan was. We will kill him, but he needs to be questioned first.”

Damen shook with rising tension, but Nik was right. “Fine.” 

Under Damen’s watchful eye, Pascal dressed the wound with careful hands. He was silent as he worked, a muscle in his jaw flickering.

“What is it?” 

Pascal straightened. “The risk for infection is incredibly high. The salve I put on should help, but if it was already infected...”

Damen closed his eyes. “Tell me.”

“He may not live through the night.”

Damen felt his knees go weak. The world spun. Nikandros was there, holding him up, but Damen couldn’t see him. All he could see was Laurent’s soft smile the morning after they’d made love for the first time, Laurent’s laughter through the Summer Palace. 

“Damen, Damen.” Nikandros cupped his face. “He is not dead yet. There is still hope.”

“Stay beside him,” Pascal said. “He needs you now more than ever.”

Damen nodded and said, “Yes.” 

*****

Damen sat down heavily beside the bed. Laurent looked so small on it, drowning in purple silk. Not at all like a king, but like a boy, caught in a riptide fever of pain.

Damen wanted to hold his hand, but everytime he did, he couldn’t stand the limpness of Laurent’s long fingers. It was too much like how his father’s hand had been in his last days.

But these weren’t Laurent’s last days. Damen informed him of such. He smoothed his thumb over his pale cheek and said into the silence, “There is no one in this life that can take you from me.”

Laurent didn’t wake up for two days. 

One the third, feverish blue eyes fluttered open, and it was like watching a tsunami crest. Damen lunged across the room the moment he saw, dropping the gauntlets he’d been inspecting.

“Laurent,” he breathed as he pulled his stool over. He brushed his hand across Laurent’s hot brow. “How are you feeling, sweetheart?”

Laurent blinked at him a few times. His cheeks were rosy, hand clammy in Damen’s, but his fingers flexed. “I feel…” He turned his head, looking around the room. “I feel…”

Damen inched closer. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

“The, uh. We came back home from Ios. We’re at the new palace in Marlas.”

“That’s right. What else do you remember?” 

Laurent’s gaze fixed on their joined hands. “We were in the garden and… oh. That’s not ideal.” He let go of Damen to try to lift the covers, but Damen stopped him.

“It doesn’t hurt anymore?”

“I can feel it. It’s sore, but manageable.” Laurent licked his lips. “Are you okay?”

Damen chuckled dryly. “Yes, sweetheart. I’m fine. They were after you, not me.” 

Laurent frowned, lifting his hand to Damen’s face. He touched his cheek, then his neck. “Are you sure?”

Damen took his hand and pressed a kiss to the inside of his wrist. “Yes, my love.” He stood, taking a step back.

Laurent caught his sleeve. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to get Pascal and then get you some food. Don’t move, okay?”

“Okay.” He let go.

Damen bent to kiss his brow before stepping into the hall. He summoned a servant to send for Pascal and Nikandros. Once the servant left, footsteps came from behind him. Damen turned.

Jord bowed and said, “Your Majesty” because there was no Veretain word for “Exalted.”

Damen waved him off. “Tell me how our prisoner is doing.”

“He has not attempted escape of any kind and refuses to eat or answer questions. He…” Jord trailed off, glancing at the closed door behind Damen. He took a deep breath. “Sir, I know it’s not my place, but I’d like to see him.” 

That was not what Damen had expected. Even now, the loyalty Laurent had cultivated in these men shook him to his core. Very few leaders could do what Laurent had done.

Jord went on, shifting nervously on his feet, “We, um, Huet and Lazar and I… we’ve all been worried. He… The King is very important to us. You know that.”

Damen nodded. “I will ask him. Wait here.” 

He wasn’t sure how Laurent would feel, letting his men see him so weakened. Laurent had pushed himself to a sitting position and was poking at his wound when Damen came back in.

“What the hell are you doing?” Damen burst out, crossing the room in three large strides. 

Laurent continued his examination, having pulled off the dressings of the wound. “You said Pascal was coming. I wanted to see how bad it was.”

It was bad. In fact, it was still bad. Two days of rest had only eased the swelling, not healed the wound. Damen caught both of Laurent’s wrists and stuck his face close enough to touch noses. “I said, don’t move.”

“He’s always been a terrible patient,” Pascal said as he came in. He bowed. “It’s good to see you awake, Your Majesty.”

Laurent had a sour look on his face as Damen stepped aside for Pascal. “I was just looking.”

Pascal touched his brow. “Your body is fighting off infection. His Majesty is right. Any extra exertion, no matter how small, can be detrimental.”

Damen crossed his arms over his chest, meeting Laurent’s dry glare.

“I’ll have the kitchens put together some soup and we’ll add a sleeping drought.” 

“You want to drug me,” Laurent said flatly.

“Well you clearly can’t be trusted to rest on your own,” Damen snapped back. “I leave you alone for five minutes and you’re already picking—”

“That’s enough.” Pascal gazed steadily at Damen. “He does not need a lecture right now. I understand that you’re upset, but he needs his husband, not a general.” He turned, pointing at Laurent. “And you need to not make this difficult for everyone. Your health is our priority right now, not aggravating your husband.”

Damen coughed, feeling like a lectured child. Laurent sniffled indignantly and lowered his chin.

Pascal clapped once. “Excellent. Now let me check the wound.”

Laurent was quiet, but obedient through the examination and redressing of the wound. Pascal made him promise not to poke around again before he left to get the soup.

Damen sat beside Laurent and checked his brow again. He was still warm, but he clearly had plenty of energy.

“Oh, are you a physician now?”

“Hush.” Damen braced his arms on either side of Laurent’s legs and leaned in to kiss him softly. 

Laurent allowed it, his lashes brushing Damen’s cheeks.

“Jord wants to see you,” Damen said after he pulled back. “He’s worried. They all are.”

That seemed to surprise Laurent, but he hid it quickly. “I don’t know if it’s good for a ruler to be seen in this state.”

“I don’t think he cares.”

Laurent chewed on his bottom lip for a moment before he nodded. “Alright. Let him in.”

When Jord came in, he bowed immediately to Laurent. “Are you— I mean, I know you’re not okay, but, uh…”

Laurent waved him off. “I’m fine. It’s Damen who is spreading this dramatic tale of me almost losing my life. It wasn’t that bad.”

“It was that bad,” Damen grumbled.

Jord wasn’t fooled by Laurent’s fibs either. “I’d like to personally guard your rooms during your recovery, Your Majesty.”

“You cannot possibly stand out there for days on end.”

“I can and I will,” Jord said firmly.

Damen pinched his brow. “How about you rotate? You, Lazar, and Huet can trade shifts, and the Akielon guards will take the other post.” It was something they’d agreed upon after the castle was first built: their personal rooms would be guarded by one Akielon and one Veretain at the same time.

“Very well.” Laurent sunk a little deeper into the cushions. “But, as you can see, I am of optimal health and will be back to my duties shortly. There is no need to worry.”

Jord looked between Laurent and Damen for a moment, but he nodded and bowed again. “Thank you, Your Majesties.”

Laurent dismissed him, then asked Damen for help walking to the bathing chamber.

[idontplaytrack]

Hmm…

Request: Capri x Reader, pool party, not dating but like each other, reader gets hurt (small cut or like scrapes their knee) and Capri helps bandage them up

Kiss It Better

Capri Donahue x fem! reader

Warnings: coarse language, fluff, mutual pining? lol not really, kissing

“What can I do to make you feel better?”

You knew who Capri was, obviously. Everyone at the school does, even the freshmen. And if they somehow didn’t, Capri made sure they knew who she was by the end of day. She was the hottest girl in school. You’ve never had a proper conversation with her, ever. So one fine day, when you got to school and checked your locker in the morning, you thought this was a mistake: the fact that there was an invitation to her party, in your locker. You were sure it must’ve been a mistake, however when you saw your name on the card, the air got knocked out of your lungs as you read the words written on the paper.

This invitation was addressed to you, asking you to go to her party this weekend. You really wanted to go and was hoping this wasn’t a prank. It’s not unknown that Capri and her girls have played a prank like this before, though it’s been awhile so you couldn’t help but be wary.

Slipping it into your file, you got your needed textbook out of your locker and headed to home room firstly. Part of you was buzzing with excitement, another part was trying to shove that aside and be careful of her intentions. Whatever they might be. As much as you admired how confident and absolutely gorgeous she effortlessly looked, you didn’t know the girl that well, but you knew how capable she was off ruining someone’s reputation. Darby Harper was a prime example— the two were best friends, then god knows what happened, they weren’t friends anymore and became sworn enemies. You talked to Darby sometimes, and you’d always catch Capri or her girls giving you a look. It pissed you off, but also made you feel…sad. Darby was a good student and great friend. But because of their falling out, Darby’s gradually became more of a lone wolf.

Did you mention that she was gorgeous? Yeah, you did.

“Hi!” You sat in the desk next to Darby’s.

“Hey.” She said to you, quietly.

You gave her a small smile as you put your stuff down.

“You got an invite too?” She leaned closer to ask.

Your head whipped around to face her so quickly, “Yes.”

Unfortunately, your conversation was abruptly interrupted by morning announcements. And you didn’t see her again until lunch due to differing classes. So when lunch break rolled around, she immediately looked for you. “y/n!”

You jumped in your seat, startled. “Oh, good. It’s just you.”

“Sorry.” She laughs, sitting down.

“So…you got the invitation too. Anyone else?”

“The usual people.” Darby tells you, digging into her food. “James was invited to this time, and he’s going. I saw him in bio and he noticed the invitation in my binder.”

“What?”

“Oh, yeah. It’s kinda hard to miss— bright pink envelopes and blue glittery pen ink?”

“No, I mean—”

‘Girl, what the hell are you trying to say? Shut it.’

You pursed your lips together, opening the cap of your water bottle. “Mean, what?”

“Nothing.”

“Okay.” She answered, unconvinced.

“Nothing.” You insisted.

“Okay, relax, y/n.” She answered teasingly.

After lunch, you were walking out of the cafeteria among a sea of students who were too busy chatting away, and you got shoved into someone. “Shit!” You gasped, horrified, “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, sorry!” You heard, and before you got even see who it was, she was gone.

“Are you okay?” Darby held onto your shoulder.

“I’m fine.” You huffed, “Now if these people can just be in less of a rush…”

She lets go of you, “Since when do they want to get to class on time, anyway?”

You scoffed, “I know, right? At least watch where you’re going.”

Darby chuckles, “Right. I’ll see you tomorrow? Have a good rest of your day, okay?”

You nodded, “See ya, Darbs. You too.”

While Darby headed towards the gym, you were going upstairs for Study Hall. Pushing the door to the classroom open, you were met with a few desk choices: right in the back corner with a jock, in the second row next to someone who was clearly having a cold, or in the middle row beside Taylor and Bree.

The jock made you uncomfortable by staring at you, and you did not want to risk catching a cold even more than you already were. But did you have the guts to sit right by the school’s most popular people?

“Sit next to me.” You heard a voice right behind you, by your ear. It snaps you out of your thoughts and you scurried to the desk, not wanting to be in the way.

Oh god, did she just ask you to sit next to her? Why?

Not that you wouldn’t want to, but why?

“Don’t let him get to you.” Taylor quips, “Sit here and he wouldn’t even dare look at you again.”

“Okay.” You muttered, “Thanks?”

“Jesus, relax.” Capri leaned over to you and said in a hushed voice, “Why are you so tense?”

“I dunno.” You shrug, removing a textbook and a worksheet from your backpack. Capri squinted, confused, then her brows were raised for a moment. She shrugs, saying nothing else for awhile, letting you work on your assignment.

Hang on— was it her that you bumped into right outside the cafeteria?!

“Hey.” You heard. You didn’t pay attention, assuming it was her talking to Bree or Taylor. But then, she taps you on the shoulder.

“Oh.” You put your pen down, “Sorry. Yeah?” You were still looking at your work instead of at Capri. You couldn’t do it.

“You got the invitation?”

“Yeah.” You confirmed.

“Are you gonna come?” She asked next.

“Why do you want me there?” You asked back, taking in a deep breath.

“Because I do. And you’re nice, so…”

What kind of reason was that? You have been nice to her, when partnered up for class projects. Things were civil but she was at the top of the food chain, you— were at the bottom.

You kept quiet after that. “I think it’ll be fun. It’s a pool party, and the weather’s getting really hot so that’ll be a good way to cool off.” Bree continued.

Tempted again, more so now.

————

Once the final bell rang, you immediately left the school and made your way home. Your only stop was the coffeeshop to grab yourself a sandwich for later. You wanted to take a nap and did not feel like cooking— you were home alone for two weeks since your parents were out of town on business trips. Leaving the cling-wrapped sandwich on the dining table, you quickly got changed into comfy clothes then dove straight into bed and fell asleep. It was Thursday, and you couldn’t wait for the weekend to be here so you could rest.

You could only hope this decision was the right one to be made…but there was no denying you weren’t excited about being part of her circle, kinda. She was being nice so far.

Putting your phone aside, you munched on your sandwich while staring into space. After your snack break, you finished your remaining homework then went ahead to take a shower to freshen up. And then…you got more texts from Capri. Which you didn’t exactly feel like replying to because it feels like you were so excited and have been trying to be nonchalant about everything.

“What on Earth— a voice message?” You mumbled to yourself, thumb hovering over the play button.

‘Hey, did Darby say anything about coming to the party?’

‘No. Why?’

‘I was gonna talk to her and apologise if she came. But do you have her number? I don’t know if she blocked me or changed her number.’

You went into your Contacts and shared Darby’s number to Capri. Then, your phone was plugged in to charge while you watched TV.

The rest of your night was very quiet, as expected. And with your homework all done, you were ready to get back into bed and turn in for the night. The next day, you got to school a little earlier than usual since you got up earlier. You were outside the library reading a book you’d just borrowed when someone tapped you on the shoulder. “Shit.” You cursed, “What?”

“Geez.” The voice behind you said.

You turned around and was met with Capri standing right there. “Oh, it’s you.”

“I know you don’t like me, but didn’t mean to scare you, you know?”

You licked your lips then pursed them together, making a mental note of which page you’d stopped reading at before shutting the book.

“What is it?”

“What?”

“Why are you suddenly talking to me?” You asked her timidly.

“I told you— I wanted to make more friends.”

You shrug, “How’d it go with Darby?”

“Went well. We’re good now.” She smiled, sitting down next to you. Your heart skipped a beat then started to race. Your mind, it went empty as you blinked profusely trying to gather your thoughts once again.

“Good for you.” You smiled.

“Are you…afraid of me?” She asked with her signature smirk. You felt your cheeks flushing, so you swiftly looked away to suppress the formation of the blush.

You laughed awkwardly, “More like, intimidated.”

“Why?”

You cleared your throat, “Why?”

“Yeah.” She nodded, looking curious.

“You are the most popular person in school. You’re like— untouchable. Unbeatable. Top of the food chain, Capri.” You told her, fingers picking at the corner of the book in your hand.

An indescribable silence fell between you and her, then you heard a heavy exhale. “Well, I hear you. And I’m serious about wanting to get to know you, y/n.”

“You know my name?” You asked, half joking, half actually surprised.

“Of course I do.” The melodious laugh of hers filled the space. “Contrary to popular belief, I’m not that stupid.”

Then came a very fast, “You’re not stupid.”

Capri hums, biting back a scoff, “My mom used to tell me I’d have to use my looks to get by. That I wasn’t smart enough, so— there’s that. What are you doing in school an hour early anyway?”

“Slept early, woke up early. You get the picture.”

“Okay.” She replied simply. “And…if you don’t want to the party, you don’t have to come. I don’t want you to feel like you have to do something if you don’t feel like you’d enjoy it.”

She turned around and stood up from the bench, “I’ll see you around?”

“See you.” You replied, smiling but she didn’t see it since you were facing away from her.

As you watched her leaving, hearing her heels clacking against the floors, your own words swarmed through your head: ‘…untouchable. Unbeatable. Top of the food chain, Capri.’

‘She’s way out your league, y/n. Get away from her before you get your heart broken. Stay away. Stop before you get attached.’

————

You found a folded post-it note in your library book that had her handwriting on it. One note that contained her phone number. You held it in your hand, as though having a staring contest with it while you contemplated what to do with it. You puffed out your cheeks, perplexed.

‘She’s just a friend— no, an acquaintance, y/n. Stop. Stop. Stop this. You cannot catch feelings for the school royalty.’

Completely annoyed with yourself and this dilemma, you tossed both your phone and the paper asides. Leaning back, your head rest over the couch backrest as you stared at the ceiling. You stayed that way a few minutes until your phone’s buzzing caught your attention.

You had two days to the pool party. Forty-eight hours. Do you go, or not?

You knew you couldn’t text her, like actually text her number. So, you didn’t do that. But you really wanted to go to the party. That, you did. You were gonna go.

Hearing a honk outside your house, you grab your sling bag, phone and keys then headed out the door. “Hey!” She leaned closer and waved. You wave back and brisk-walked over, getting into the front seat with Darby.

“I haven’t seen you in school for two days. Are you alright?”

“Yeah, just— a cold.”

A lie.

“Oh, how are you feeling now?”

“I’m okay.”

Another lie.

“Did she text you again? Because, she’s texted me at like eleven last night and—”

“Nope.” You shook your head.

Another lie. Hooray.

You so desperately wanted to ask her for advice, but decided to shut up instead. As a result, the rest of the drive was awkwardly long and quiet.

“Are you okay?”

“Sure.”

You went ahead of her and stood on Capri’s porch, pressing the doorbell. “Hey, you came! Come on in.” Capri answers the door.

“Hi.” You smiled softly, she stood to the side and you walked in.

“Darby! Hey.”

“Hello.” Darby replied while you walked through the room to the backyard and pool area. You sat down on a pool chair and just watched the cheer squad swimming and chatting together. They didn’t even see you walk in.

You did hear Darby and Capri laughing and walking to the pool a couple minutes later, completely lost in their own world. While they were talking, you minded your own business and just read your book that you’d brought.

Taylor came up beside you to chat awhile later, giving you something else to do. “Hey. What’s up?”

“Just reading. And tanning, I guess.”

“What book is that?”

“Oh.” You showed her the cover, “Stuck Up and Stupid.”

She gasped softly, “Ooh. That one’s pretty good.”

“Taylor.” Piper walked by, tapping her shoulder, “I’m gonna go make some snacks. You want anything?”

“Whatever’s fine, Piper.”

“I’ll help.” You decided it was time to get up and walk.

You went back inside with Piper, she looked through the pantry for what to use. “She doesn’t have any fruit in the fridge? Damn.” Piper remarked.

“How about just the canned fruits for now?” You suggested.

“Ooh.” She spotted them too, and took out a can of tropical fruit cocktail and placed it on the island. You took that and pulled it open by the tab. Piper was back looking through the pantry. Capri was walking in and you got fucking distracted. Somehow, you’d grabbed the can lid by the sides and it gave you a cut. You yelped, retracting your hand. It immediately caught the attention of Piper who was right there but she screamed. That, alarmed Capri.

“What’s going on?”

“Bleeding. She’s bleeding— oh god—”

As Capri scurried closer, you began to panic and notice the wound on your thumb. You grab a kitchen towel and hastily tried it off but the blood only kept flowing and soaking the paper. Capri’s eyes widened, “My God. That—”

Capri told you to keep putting pressure on it while she ran off somewhere, returning with the first aid kit. Meanwhile, Piper left the living area with a bowl containing the canned fruit. Capri groans, “Couldn’t you help?”

“I’m scared of blood.” Piper says, “Sorry!”

“Let me see.” Capri sighs softly, holding onto your wrist. You slowly pulled the paper towel away. There was nothing for like, three seconds then the blood was seen again. “Shit.” She muttered, letting go of the used paper towel and tore off a new one from the roll. Holding onto your wrist on one hand, she held the paper towel around your thumb with the other, tightly.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah— yeah— I— I’m okay.” You stuttered, mind slowly going blank and then your thoughts were getting all jumbled.

“Okay.” She bit back a smirk, “Hold on to it.”

You quickly got ahold of your paper-clad thumb again to keep the pressure on it while she unwrapped a band-aid. “Run it under the tap.” Capri instructed.

You hesitated, knowing that it would hurt.

She tilted her head as a silent ask for you to hurry and do it. So you did. Wincing through every agonising second of it. She helps you dry it off and smoothly put the bandaid on. “Keep it on for awhile.”

You only nodded and told her a quiet thank-you.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” She leaned down to peek at your face since you were looking at the floor. Capri held your wrist again, somehow managing to make you have eye contact with her. Damn, your heart was quickly racing again.

You licked your lips, randomly feeling tears forming in your eyes. “Hey.” Capri said softly, “It’s okay.”

You swallowed your tears. It hurt, but it couldn’t be worse than the heartbreak of you were to risk it and tell her how you felt.

“Don’t cry.” She says in the same tone, “Hm? What can I do to make you feel better?” You shook your head, wiping your tears away with your thumb of your free hand that wasn’t in her grip.

You sniffed, “I’m fine.” She was still holding onto your wrist, then now, your hand— fingers? Intertwining.

She brought your hand, specifically, your thumb to her lips and pressed a kiss to it. Your eyes went so wide, and you felt like you could scream. You didn’t, of course. Your voice was gone entirely. You let out a… noise. God knows what that noise was. Ugh.

She giggles quietly, “Yay, you’re not crying anymore.”

You couldn’t help it and cracked a smile, “Thanks.”

She swung your hand a little, “Glad you’re okay.” Taking another look at your thumb she says, “Good, the bleeding’s stopped.”

“Why are you still holding onto my hand?”

She stood closer to you, bodies almost pressed up against each other’s. “Because…I…like…you.”

“What?” You mumbled, a flustered laugh falls from your lips.

“I like you.”

“I heard you.” You gulped. “What?”

“y/n, I like you.” She laughs, “Why are you so shocked?”

“Because you’re you.” You spat out nervously, “Capri, you’re so out of my league, you’re in your own league.”

She wasn’t fazed, she just kept looking at you. Staring into your soul, it seems. The tension was tangible as your breathing grew heavy. The panic amping up, as were the butterflies in your stomach. They were raging. As close as she was to your face, she no longer intimidated you. Maybe thanks to her tending to your injury so carefully. But either way, you got a sense of ‘it’s now or never’. You were alone, together. She was initiating something— whatever it was, you were ready to let your desire take over. Let your heart take over instead of letting your head tie you down with doubts.

She leaned in, you followed her lead. Her lips, they met yours first and you felt like fireworks went off in your chest. Feeling the warmth of her fingertips along your cheek and her palm eventually cupping your face, your heart fluttered feeling each little sensation from her touch. You let her take the lead, and she was gladly doing so.

When she began to pull away, you nearly whined, not wanting her lips to leave yours. She laughs, stroking your cheek with her thumb. “I’ve been wanting to do that for months.”

A grin forms on your face immediately, and you were definitely unable to hide it. And the blush. You nodded, “Good to know.”

“You probably shouldn’t swim.” She tells you.

“Yeah I know.” You finally regained your composure.

“So…” You both said.

“You like me.” You said, mainly to yourself. Definitely to yourself— still in disbelief.

“Yes, I do.” She sneaks an arm around your waist squeezing your side.

“Oh my God.” You muttered, laughing.

She smooched your cheek, “You want some ice cream? You like caramel macadamia, right?”

“Sure, yeah.” You sat down at the island. “How’d you know—”

“I have my ways, y/n.” She winked, “I’m very resourceful.”

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