#i found a curly place and they taught me so much about my own hair

[drowsyfairy]

i got bangs

[crow2222]

May I request: Tim bringing a (fairly) concussed Darry back to the gang?

WC; 1122

I never wrote in Tim's pov before, so apologies if it's out of character.

The rocks rolled under his feet, each step as sloppy and uncoordinated as the next. Usually this movement means one of two things in this neighbourhood; they got shitfaced or were jumped, and poor ol’ Darry seemed to be hit by the latter. 

I wasn’t known for helping out just any unlucky soul, but this man had always found a way to lend me a hand without even knowing it himself. So when I saw him staggering home whilst taking my own trek home; I crossed the street and wrapped my arm around him. 

He paid no mind to me it seemed, not even a slight hint of acknowledgement from him. It was strange, it sure was, Darry was one kind man, supposedly he once dropped everything and helped an old woman cross the street. He was stupid in the head, being like that in a town like this, and this night sure proved it.

His truck was parked up front once we made it back, and I wondered where the hell he was going, and what happened, but I kept my mouth shut as I helped him get up the front steps of the porch.

Judging by the hoots and yells from inside, none of them had a damn clue or worry about their precious guardian. Not that I’d blame them, that group of boys never seemed to get a damned break. First their parents, then Dallas n Johnny. How they could be jumping around and laughing was beyond me. 

It all died down as the screen door slammed into the wall, making Darry wince, his body tensing up in my hold. Knowing I couldn’t do anything to stop his supposed headache, I kept on going inside, cursing under my breath when he started to rest his entire weight on me. 

“Goddammit Curtis get up!” I tried shrugging him off, but alas.

My yell was what made them get up from the kitchen, and I was met with the faces of the boys Darry took care of as if all were his own. 

Two-bit, Steve, Soda, and the runt, Ponyboy. 

Hands all flew towards me, grabbing the older man from my grasp. WIth steady steps among Two-bit and Steve, they deposited Darry on the couch, his head reeling backwards with a groan. 

“Tim. What happened to him?” The littlest Curtis asked me, his eyes huge and staring at his brother. Soda was gone off somewhere, before the crashes alerted me he was probably getting the aid kit. 

My shoulders shrugged before my mind thought of a reply, as well as helping people, I also wasn’t known for being a big talker, unlike the wise-ass Keith and Dallas. “Just found ‘im trying to get over here. Seemed to me like he was about to pass out before I reached the door.” 

Then I took in how Darry looked again.

His face was crumpled up in pain, his hair dishevelled to a certain degree, the starting signs of bruises on his face and arms, and not to mention that he was sporting a bloody nose, which he tried to wipe away.

It wasn’t a pretty sight; this realisation only came to me in the bright lights of the sitting room. It made me wonder if I should’ve taken him to my own house and cleaned him up a bit before getting his sorry ass home. Would’ve saved them from worrying so much.

Sodapop then blocked my view, immediately getting to work. He cleaned up cuts and scratches I didn’t even realise were there, making me more inquisitive about Darry’s whereabouts more than ever. Steve must’ve thought the same thing, his voice pulling me out of the worry I didn’t know I was feeling. 

“Where the hell did you go off to? We thought you were sleeping.” His tone was short and snippy, as per usual, but there was a rare hint of care in it as well. I didn’t know much about him other than his great car skills, but he’d taught Dallas how to steal hubcaps and I’ll forever hate that fact. Too many of my wheels went without hubcaps whenever we’d get in any kind of scrap.

By then, Ponyboy was gone from my side and already placed a glass of water and a bottle of pills on the table. He would’ve been hanging out with Curly if he wasn’t in the reformatory, there was no doubt in my mind about that. That stupid kid just had a liking to the Curtis; I couldn’t put my finger onto why.

It took around two minutes for me to realise I overstayed my welcome; my duty was solely just to bring Darry home, not to pace around like a man in a hospital waiting room, wondering if his buddy would have to stay the night for observation or not.

My shoes squeaked as I turned my heel, ignoring the nagging voice in my head that told me to stay. I wasn’t planning on stickin’ around at all, but then Darry had to open his dumb mouth and call out my name. It was more like a quiet whine, but I heard it all the same.

So I stayed.

I felt like an odd one out amongst them all, like a puzzle piece from a different box that got mixed up. They all fit in together, albeit they were missing a couple of their own pieces. The three brothers were all huddled up on the couch, the other two on the floor nearby. 

Lights were turned off, leaving only the side lamp on as they coaxed Darry enough to get the damn painkillers and keep him awake by keeping the television on, the sound just high enough to keep him from sleeping. He was fighting it; I could tell from the bopping of his head, his baby brother falling asleep on his shoulder probably didn’t help either.

Stretching my legs out from the recliner, I decided it was finally time for me to leave, no amount of begging keeping me this time. The cold wind ran shivers down my spine once I opened up the door, and when I took one glance back in the sitting room, I was met with the hazy eyes of Darrel. 

His head bowed down slightly, obviously causing him some discomfort as his eyes crinkled, and his scowl deepened. He was giving me thanks despite his damn concussion.

I bit back my tongue, I wasn’t about to call a man who can barely walk stupid. So instead, I dipped my head back to him and left.

There was only one question on my mind as I kicked a rock across the road; How did good ol’ Darry get hurt? 

[deapax]

Suiting her

Characters: Agatha Harkness x fem!reader

Summary: After escaping the hex the witch’s focus shifts to getting her powers back. Yet she can’t just ignore the looks you give her once she shows off her new style.

Word Count - no idea, enough I hope

Warnings - Smut, strap on, Agatha being merciless, overstimulation, rough sex, mommy kink

A/N - set after the hex -> also this is my first fic on here so leave a comment if you got improvements!

Originally posted by deapax

“Y/N, darling, do you mind grabbing the spell books from the shelf? The red and blue ones.” The witch’s voice echoed in your head as you rolled your eyes, heading to the shelf to do as you were told even though you had imagined this morning a lot differently.

Just a few days back you’d helped her to escape the hex just to find out that Agatha had lost access to her beloved powers. Very quickly that had become her new focus, she had developed quite an obsession to find a way to get to the what she called Witch’s Road. You didn’t know anything about this place, you weren’t a witch yourself, you were simply at Agatha’s mercy, nothing more than her loyal lover. She had never mentioned the word girlfriend, even though you liked dreaming of a life in which Agatha would be able to embrace her feelings for her, maybe even show some affection.

“Y/N, I’m waiting. Don’t make me punish you again.” The voice pulled you out of your thoughts and back to reality. You’d have to arrange with the fact that her focus was no longer on you like it had been during the hex, no matter how draining it was. Like the obedient pup you were you fetched the books and made your way to the living room of the little cabin you’d found shelter in, placing them down on the table in front of Agatha, your eyes glued to the floor as you didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of you drooling over her.

“Good girl. You may start preparing lunch while I study those books, you know I value silence.” She stated rather dry, which made you clench your fists, tears dwelling in your eyes as you bit down your lip trying to hold back. It was unfair, you’d done anything for her and that’s how she thanked you? “No. You’re old enough to cook alone and I am independent enough to-“ That’s when you lifted your gaze to meet Agatha’s to make your point, yet you choked on your very own words at the view that was presented to you.

You’d known Agatha to be the elderly woman with the dark untamed curly hair and her dark purple dress. The Agatha in front of you was much different from that. She had out her hair up to a messy bun and the make up she wore was way more present, making her look even younger. But what caught your eyes the most was the suit she’d chosen to put over a white blouse, her necklace dangling from her neck. She was almost looking like she was heading to an important meeting. “Independent you say? Darling, we both know you couldn’t even survive a day without me, no need to lie to yourself. But I think you know I cannot let that little comment of yours slide so easily. Mommy needs to teach her pup some manners. Kneel.”

It was the change of tone that got to you, the attention that you suddenly had, the books long forgotten. You felt your legs pressing together as wetness started to pool between them. God you could cum from that sight alone. Without hesitation you dropped down on your knees in front of the older witch who was still settled rather comfortably on the big old fashioned chair. With doe eyes you looked up at your mommy, as she liked to call herself, yet you couldn’t agree more. “Let’s out that big loose mouth of yours to better use shall we?” Your mouth started watering as you noticed the bulge in the witch’s suit pants, that she now unbuttoned and pulled down just enough to pull her favourite purple strap out of it. It was standing proudly as your mouth slowly approached it, your eyes in Agatha’s at all times just how she’d taught you.

You licked a straight line up her strap, swirling your tongue around the tip before taking the large toy into her mouth. By the fact that she’d chosen her largest one you knew you were in big trouble. Agatha wasn’t playing around when it came to her punishments. You started sucking her off like she could feel it, hollowing your cheeks under pressing your lips against the strap before taking it even deeper until it hit the back of your mouth, making your choke. As you pulled back you met Agatha’s hand, pushing you back down. “Nuh uh, you know good girls take what they’re given. You don’t wanna disappoint mommy after the little stunt you pulled earlier do you now?” You shook your head, trying your best to keep sucking the toy, tears starting to build up as Agatha gripped your hair tighter, guiding your head on the strap just the way she liked it. Hearing her quite grunts and moans that escaped her mouth by the simple view of you encouraged you to keep going until Agatha finally had enough, the toy now covered in your salvia and your cheeks stained with your shed salty tears.

“Get up, bend over the table. I’m done playing around with you. If you wanna be a brat, I’ll treat you like one.” Her voice only fuelled your desire for her, desperate to make her proud and earn her forgiveness, but you knew better than that. Agatha wasn’t one to forgive easily, she’d proven that many times and nights before. Yet you still had allowed your feelings to take over you. Agatha’s strong hand wrapped around your throat to lift you back on your feet made you realise that you’d been too slow for her liking. Roughly she turned you around, bending you over the table, holding you down by your neck as she impatiently got rid of your pants and panties.

She now was leaning over you, you could feel the wet strap pressing against your thigh as she whispered in your ear. “Dumb little pup really thought you could escape mommy’s grip hm? I’ll never let you go. But I know you wouldn’t want to leave me, you’re such a whore for me, princess. Can’t go a day without my strap can you? You know if you wanted mommy’s attention you could’ve just asked. Mommy’s got some stress she needs to take out.” Her voice was raspy, you could tell she was exhausted and frustrated from not finding a solution for her problem since days. You started feeling bad for being so selfish, wanting all her attention for yourself while she deserved to take some time for herself after everything she’d gone through in the hex.

She licked along your ear shell, biting your earlobe and pulling on it before she got back in an upright position and used her free hand to guide the strap to your soaking wet folds, running it through them until she suddenly pushed forwards. You cried out softly, your hands gripping either side of the table as she sent another rough push right after, burying the strap inside your gaping hole. “Mommy! ‘S so big, hurts..” You whined but Agatha just laughed wickedly, pulling back just to slam the toy back inside you, the wetness of your cunt making it easy for her to pick up a quick pace, the sinful sound of skin hitting skin filling the silent room. “That’s the point of a punishment, pup. It’s supposed to hurt. But you know mommy would never do something that you don’t deserve, ain’t that right?” You could hear her panting as she tightened her grip on your neck while her nails of her other hand dug into the skin of your thigh as she kept them wide open for her.

“ ‘M so sorry for misbehaving, mo-mommy. I’ll be good, I know I deserve this.” She cried out, not being to hold back at the way Agatha manhandled you, fucking you senselessly, turning your brain to mush within a couple of seconds. The change of the rhythm Agatha fucked you with was enough to take you to the edge already. She slowed down her movement, yet she made sure the tip of the toy was hitting your sweet spot every time she thrusted the toy inside your tight hole, making your legs shake as you came, your cum dripping down your legs. Your expression change the second you noticed you’d just broken another one of your mommy’s rules.

“Oh? Did mommy’s strap fuck you so well that you forgot the simplest rule of them all? Tell me.” Smack. Her hand fell hardly on your ass you tried your best to come down from your high to form a sentence that made sense. You cried out as another blow hit your ass cheek. By the way it felt and sounded you could tell you’d be having troubles sitting the next few days. “Mind’s empty.. ‘m sorry I came without permission, mommy. I-“ Another smack interrupted your pathetic apology. You knew it didn’t matter what you said, you’d fucked up big time and she was prepared. Suddenly the witch started moving at a rapid speed again, rutting you against the table as she ignored your cries and begs. “It’s too much, mommy please! C-can’t take any more!” Tears pooled on the table as she continued taking you like her life was depending on you. The way the table was moving under her powerful thrusts you got scared that her cup of tea would end up on the ground very soon which you obviously would have to clean up afterwards. “Should’ve thought about that before you got mommy all angry and disappointed at you, princess. You can and you will give me another, and another if I tell you to. See it as a friendly reminder of who’s in charge here.”

Her voice started shaking, you could tell she was close as well by the way her movements started getting sloppier, her thrusts harder as she tried desperately to chase her own orgasm. The way she cried out your name when she came made all the pain worth it. Your knuckles turned white as you came again, sobbing loudly as she rid out her own orgasm before pulling out of you and dropping back down on her chair, pulling you along with her. “Sh sh sh, pup. You did so well for mommy. Mommy’s so proud of you.” She pulled you into her lap, wiping your tears, giving you a moment to at least catch your breath before she lifted you back on her strap. “Now rest some while I study those books, you’ll need your energy for later if I don’t find a way to get my powers back anytime soon.” Tiredly you rested your head on Agatha’s shoulder, closing your eyes as you felt her hand on your back drawing little patterns on it with her hand as she opened the book and mumbled a few spells, her voice soothing you to sleep not too long after.

[pinkteapotwriting]

I’ve been thinking. I see a lot of dom!marauders or them being experienced. But what if it was the opposite? Like y/n is experienced and perhaps a dom, while the boys are virgins (or just had little experience)? it makes me all soft 🥺. Like Y/N could be their best friend/fifth marauder (whichever you choose), and they like ask her to be their first time and it’s all blushy for the boys (them being subs, a few tears of pain for them) go crazy! It’s been on my mind for weeks!

Marauders x Fem!reader

Warning : unprotected sex, cursing, Dom!reader, pretty chill I think, you know, for smut

Word count : 1830

Thanks for being so patient, I hope you like it cause it took me forever to do this. It's a bit heavy on the dialogue but oh well

---

Surprise, surprise.

It was raining at Hogwarts. The Scottish countryside is taking on its usual demeanor of moisture in this season. Not that you minded, that just meant you got to spend the day with all of your favourite boys. You Sirius and James were giggling away in the corner while Remus was trying his best to ignore you all and read, but you figured you could peak his interest.

“Okay Pads, what’s your body count?”

“I’ve never killed anybody, but trust me Snivelus has come close.”

“No you dork, how many people have you slept with?”

“I’m not answering that!”

“I’m not gonna slut shame you Sirius.”

“He’s definitely not worried about being slut shamed Y/N” James snorted.

“Like you’re any better off than I am you prick.”

“Cut it out, there’s no need to call each other names. Are you both virgins then?”

“Well, yeah I guess.”

James was much more embarrassed than he needed to be.

“What about you Remmy, have you done anything at all?”

“Ask Sirius.”

“I already did ask Sirius!”

“Ask Sirius.”

“Oh my god why are you all so embarrassed there’s nothing to be ashamed of. I’m just surprised is all. You guys are all really attractive and kind people so I never thought you’d be inexperienced and you’ve dated plenty of girls.”

Remus shut his book.

“Not that it’s any of your business Y/N but i’ve at least given or received a hand job or two before.”

“Why’d you tell me to ask Siri- ooooooooh.”

Sirius had his face in his palms.

“Can we change the subject please.”

James patted his shoulder comfortingly.

“It’s okay Pads. It’s not like the opportunity never arose, we were all just waiting for the right person.”

“Aw well I hope you find them soon, I care about you all so much and you deserve the world.”

Sirius was still groaning into his hands.

“She’s so fucking oblivious.”

Remus chuckled.

“Quite.”

Quite what? Confused definitely.

“I don’t understand.”

The room’s silence was overwhelming, until James took a deep breath and all eyes were drawn to him.

“Sirius and Remus obviously like each other and I’m not going to deny my attraction to either of them.”

“Then why don’t you-”

“It doesn’t feel complete. See we already found that someone, it’s you Y/N.”

“Really? You guys want me that way?”

James shrugged meekly.

“If you’ll have us.”

“I’ve always felt that way about you. I just never wanted to risk our friendship, but if you feel the same then I’d love to.”

Sirius’s head popped out.

“Right now?”

“Ha ha, no we don’t have to right now.”

“Well what are we waiting for, to get to know each other. I know James too well actually.”

You rolled your eyes and turned to probably the most level headed one, but Remus was giving you puppy eyes. You were so drawn to him you walked across the room and cupped his face with your right hand.

“What’s wrong honey?”

“Waited so long already, love. Don’t wanna wait any longer.”

“Jamie, do you want this too?”

“Yes please.”

“Such good manners baby, so I have everyone’s consent then?”

“Very much so.”

“Enthusiastic consent.”

“If you don’t do something I’m going to combust.”

You smirked at Sirius’s comment.

“You don’t get to combust until I say you do, understand?”

“Ooo scary.”

“So be it.”

You took hold of Remus’s hands and placed them on your hips.

“I know you’ll be a good boy for me Remus, won’t you?”

He swallowed thickly and nodded.

“I’ll be good for you Y/N.”

“I know you will Jamie. It’s Siri I’m worried about. Why don’t we show him what he’s missing out on? Lie back against the pillows for me, both of you.”

“What about me?”

“You can watch for now, learn how to follow their example.”

He huffed.

“Suit yourself.”

You knew your usual roles in the bedroom, so you were trying your best not to be too stern. But still, you needed to teach Sirius his place.

You lifted up the bottom of James' shirt and kissed his hip bone delicately. He got more and more ansty as you drifted your direction to the middle and down, and down, and down.

You very happily undid his belt and pulled off his pants. The state of his arousal was much more noticeable now.

“Can I suck your cock Jamie? Would you like that?”

“Yes please.”

“Good boy, Remmy can you spit on my hand please?”

You held your palm up to his mouth expectantly, but he seemed hesitant.

“You don’t need to be embarrassed sweetie, never for doing what I ask.”

He nodded and did what he was told and immediately you felt your clit throb. Having control over these three boys was certainly a power trip. Knowing you were the first person to make James tremble like this as you engulfed his cock expertly was definitely a turn on. As you bobbed up and down on James’ impressive cock, you rubbed the bulge in Remus’s trousers. The whines the two boys were making was truly music to your ears. You lifted with a pop.

“Alright Siri, are you ready to be good now?”

“Yes ma’am”

“Did you like what you were seeing?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Do you wanna try and make Remmy feel good?”

“I’ve never sucked-”

“I know, but I’m here to help you baby.”

You’ve never seen Sirius so nervous, so quiet.

“What I’m gonna get you to do first is what you do when you jerk Remmy off, Okay? Just spit on his cock and move your hand up and down alright?”

Remus shuddered as he watched Sirius in his submissive state.

“Good job Siri, look how happy you’re making Remmy. Now you can start by sucking the head, like this.”

James whimpered, and soon Remus was making the same noises. You placed your palm on Remus’s stomach to keep him from bucking his hips. Much to James disappointment you pulled away from him again.

“Okay Sirius, don’t forget to breathe through your nose and make sure you keep your teeth tucked behind your lips, there we go that’s it. Hollow your cheeks now too. How does that feel Remus?”

“F-feels good.”

“Yeah? Sirius is being such a good boy now. Is Siri gonna make you cum?

“Y-yes.”

You grabbed hold of Sirius’s curly locks and pushed him down farther, making him gag and tear up. The vibrations making Remus cum instantly. You pulled Sirius off once Remus started squirming at the uncomfortable feeling of overstimulation.

“Did you swallow? Show Remmy.”

Remus groaned when he saw Sirius stick out his tongue, and you did too.

“Y/N”

James' voice was raspy.

“Yes baby?”

“Wanna make you feel good, wanna fuck you.”

“Want me to Ride you Jamie?”

“Please.”

“Okay, but since this is your first time you might not last that long alright?”

“That’s okay, Sirius can take over after me.”

“Alright well you lie back and I’ll take care of you. Sirius, you wait like a good boy and I’ll help you out in a second. If you want you can get Remus to suck you off while you wait. Teach him like I taught you.”

You were suddenly aware of how you were still wearing all of your clothes so you hopped off the bed to quickly strip them off and you found yourself smirking at the expression of pure need and desire on James’ face.

You straddled his waist and pressed a kiss to his cheek before aligning his cock with your entrance. Inch by inch you and down on him as he clutched the sheets below him.

“This alright Jamie?”

“Yeah, you?”

“Perfect, can I move now?”

“Yes please.”

You raised your hips up, but before you could bring them back down James snapped his hips up to yours.

“James, fuck.”

But he didn’t seem to care, with one hand resting on your hip and one fondling your breast he kept his steady rhythm that was taking your breath away. Sirius and Remus were no longer enjoying their own pleasure, but enjoying the sight of yours. You reached down to rub your clit, but Sirius pulled your hand away and replaced it with his own.

“Like this Y/N?”

“Just like that baby, doing so good for me.”

Remus squeezed in between James and Sirius to suck on the tit that James wasn’t occupying.

“Boys- I’m gonna cum fuck-”

It’s funny how in public James could be such a little shit, but now all you saw was this wide eyed trembling figure that you got to take care of and fuck it sure was enticing especially when he said things like this.

“Please cum, wanna make you feel good Mommy please please please.”

“Fuck-”

As soon as you clenched around him as you hit your high James was spurting white hot cum into the depths of your pussy. Thank god for wizard contraceptives.

You didn’t really get to bask in the moment however, since Sirius was pulling you from James out of his own desperation. He had you lying on your back.

“I need you”

“I know I’ve kept you waiting for quite some time, go ahead love.”

Not that Sirius was significantly smaller than James, but he had an easier time going inside after you had come already. Your legs found their home wrapped around his waist as soon as he found his pace.

“Y/N, I don’t think I’m going to last long.”

“That’s okay love, this is about you. Be a good boy for me and cum whenever you need.”

“It’s kinda embarrassing though.”

You cupped his cheeks and pulled his lips to meet yours.

“No need to be embarrassed- Doing such a good job Siri your cock feels so good inside of me.”

He falls down to hold his weight on his forearms, moving even faster than before.

“M’close Y/N”

“Go on and cum baby, feels so good.”

He whimpered into your neck and you soothed him by stroking his hair. Eventually he did roll off from you, unfortunately.

“You guys never told me you were subs.”

“When I’m with Remus I’m a dom.”

“Makes sense, I’d quite like to see that actually.”

Remus cleared his throat.

“Does that mean we get to do this again cause I never actually got to-”

“Of course Remmy, it just kind of makes sense doesn’t it.”

Sirius chuckled.

“Yeah, I mean it didn’t take long for James to be calling you Mommy.”

“It’s kinda sweet though, has Remus ever called you Daddy?”

“Not yet, but I feel like we’re on the brink of something big here.”

Now Remus and James were looking at each other like maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

You personally did not have any complaints; Sirius however would probably have some when you reminded him he couldn’t dom you though.

He’d have to learn the hard way.

---

@sunny-bunnny @quindolyn @midnightgremlin @weasleyposts @bluemoonyblurbs @emmaev @agalandhermarvelobsession

[mystic-sky]

This is just a request, but do you think you can write something short about gojo meeting his s/o who is a poc and how he’d react to her curly hair 🥺👉🏾👈🏾 the fandom is still pretty new so there’s not a lot of poc drabbles out there if any at all.

Here you go bby, I hope you enjoy 💕✨

Summary: An AU where you’re a sorcerest whose stationed in Japan due to the National Sorcerer Exchange Program I just made up lol. Even though it’s your first encounter Satoru is a big flirt, as usual✨💘

Word count: 1.7k

It was annoying, being one of the few special grade sorcerers based in Tokyo. Satoru Gojo often wished he could duplicate himself at least three or four times, just to reduce some of the workload stress he had. The older he got, the more he wished he wasn’t the strongest- and that’s a pretty surprising statement on his end.

He felt he couldn’t catch a break. Between special grade work, his students and now looking after Yuji Itadori, who hysterically swallowed a special grade object, he had a lot on his plate.

It was hardly a burden for him. He only wished he could be in multiple places at once. This way, he could make sure the higher ups wouldn’t mess with his students, who meant so much to him.

In sight of the increased special grade activity in Japan and several other countries, the first ever Sorcerer Exchange program was implemented by higher ups across the world. It would ensure that special and first grade sorcerers were evenly spread out and or placed in regions that needed special attention. Satoru wasn’t particularly fond of anything the higher ups did, but this idea wasn’t so bad.

“A government funded, international sorcerer exchange program,” Yaga informs Satoru, who sits across from him, idly drinking his tea.

“And how does this work exactly?” Satoru raises a brow at Yaga before dropping cubes of sugar into his cup, stirring loudly.

“For 6 month spans, high level sorcerers who applied to the exchange will be stationed in different countries to regulate curse activity.”

“Sounds like it pays more. Nanamin might like that.”

“It does, depending on your skill level.” Yaga sits back in his seat. “We’ve already received a few sorcerers from America, Africa, China, Russia-”

“All special grade?” Satoru interjects.

“Currently the exchange program only allows special and first grade sorcerers. Considering the high levels of cursed energy around the world this year, it would be best if we avoided any casualties by placing inexperienced sorcerers in the wrong places.”

“That reminds me. You’re prohibited from participating, considering we’re a red area. Until cursed activity improves here you won’t be allowed to participate.”

“Aww c’mon, you guys suck.” Satoru cocks his head back, sighing loudly.

He already traveled a lot for special grade missions but never for more than a few days. Now there was a whole six-month program and he wasn’t allowed to participate in it? Then again, he couldn’t leave Yuji here with the possibility of the higher ups trying to hurt him again. He promised himself he would protect all of his students.

“There are several meetings I must attend tomorrow and I’d like for you to be there. Don’t be late.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Is that all you wanted to talk about?” Satoru is already up and gripping the handle on the office door.

“I’ve also decided to assign a co-teacher to your first years, for your shorter stationed trips every now and then. She’s an extremely talented special grade from the exchange program. So you needn’t worry of a repeat of the detention center incident with Yuji.”

He had already swung the door open, towering above your body in the door frame. Your nose is barely touching his jacket, and hand almost touching his chest as you were attempting to knock. You take a step back, a bit startled.

“Oh! I’m sorry, I tried to knock,” you say, looking up at the blindfolded man in front of you. “I’m looking for Masamichi Yaga?”

Satoru is startled by your flawless Japanese, considering you’re clearly not of Japanese descent. He took note of your tan skin and big, curly hair that was pinned back in certain spots to display your face.

What a cutie.

“No, I’m Satoru Gojo. Principal Yaga’s the one sitting behind me.” He’s not entirely surprised by your appearance, considering he’s traveled all over the world to fight curses. “And you are?”

You almost think he’s flirting, considering how smooth the question was. Also, you’re now recognizing who he is, cheeks reddening a bit.

“I’m (Full Name). You’re the special grade I’m going to be subbing with for the first years! I’ve heard great things!” You politely bow a bit.

“I know.” His grin large and cocky as he steps out the way, allowing you to walk in. “No need to be so formal though.”

You’re slightly put off by his attitude, but principal Yaga interjects quickly.

“(Last Name), come in. I’ve been awaiting your arrival. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” Yaga is on his feet now, bowing towards you.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you too. I’m excited to work with you all.” You say as he motions you to sit and have some tea.

Satoru has found a reason to stay in the room, plopping down beside you and taking up his tea he had previously abandoned.

“Thanks for sending Ichiji to the airport to help with my belongings. I brought so much stuff, I hope it wasn’t too much for him.” You brain flashes back to Ichiji struggling to hold all of your luggage outside the baggage claim.

“Pffft, feel free to call on him whenever you want. That’s what he’s here for.” Satoru assures you, flashing you a toothy grin. You get the feeling that he probably made Ichiji’s job a living hell.

“I must say, Ms. (Last Name), your Japanese is remarkable. How did you become so fluent?” Yaga asks, filling your cup.

“I’m flattered. I taught myself what I could before attending (insert random ass college name in Japan) University. I’ve always admired Japanese culture so I studied it pretty hard. I can also speak (Native language, if you have one) and (two other languages of your choosing).”

“Wow, your Japanese is better than most locals.” Satoru chuckled. “And you’re pretty too. Lucky me.”

You shifted in place on the sofa. The most powerful sorcerer known to man was sitting beside you and he was complimenting you.

“Thank you,” you say loosely, picking up your teacup.

“Ahem,” Yaga interrupts, earning a tiny snort from Satoru.

“He hates it when I flirt.” Satoru whispers as he leans over towards you. Your face feels a bit hot, and you decide it’s from the steam of the tea in your face and not the handsome man leaning a bit too close to you. You set the cup down after the lightest sip.

“I hate to get down to business so soon Ms. (Last Name), but I’d like for you to get settled in as soon as possible. I’ve mapped out a few assignments for you this week. This is your first.” He slides the first report across the table.

“There have been several reports of abnormal cursed energy in Shinjuku City. It’s likely a special grade. I’d like for you to get to the bottom of it. It shouldn’t be a problem, considering your level of expertise. I’ve forwarded the documents to you as well.” The glint in his glasses makes you chuckle a bit. You flip through the report briefly.

“I skimmed this one on the flight. Whatever it is,” you begin, taking out your phone, “seems to be luring children. This corresponds with the rise in missing childrens’ cases I read about in Shinjuku.”

You place the article on your phone down on the table for principal Yaga to read. You liked to do your own research on locals news to see if curses had any sort of correspondence with a certain area’s events.

“You think a curse is kidnapping children?” Satoru suggests.

“It’s just a hunch. It’s nothing I haven’t encountered before.” You bite the nail on your thumb, realizing the inevitable.

“Unfortunately, if I’m correct, those children most likely aren’t alive.”

You stand up, firmly.

“I trust you’ll take care of it then,” Yaga hands your device towards you.

“Most definitely,” you look at your watch. “And I’ll be done before dinner.”

You offer the principal a smile before you slip on your trench coat, eager to take on your first mission.

“By all means, it can wait until the morning after you’ve rested.” Yaga persists.

“Nope! Not when children are potentially involved. I can’t risk it.” You straighten your clothes, and bow once more. “I’ll report back soon.”

“(Name) doesn’t let jet lag stop her from doing her job. What an admirable woman.” Satoru cooed.

“Well, Gojo-san, it was a pleasure meeting you.” You begin to wave but Satoru is on his feet, and right behind you, making you stumble back again.

“Oh no, I’m coming with you.” He grins. “I’ve gotta see what the most powerful special grade sorceress is capable of in person.”

While you had heard of your own nickname before, you hated when people called you that. You tried your best to be humble about it. There’s always new ways to improve your cursed technique, even if you don’t know how yet.

“So you do know who I am,” you shifted your stance, hands on your hips.

“I’ve heard a few things,” he says slyly. “But I’d like to see them first hand.”

“Hmph, alright then. I suppose you can show me around Shinjuku. It’s been a while since I’ve been there.” You flip your hair, making your way towards the door.

“And it’s your lucky day, I feel like showing off.” You say, peaking over your shoulder.

“Great, it’s a date.”

You stop dead in your tracks, just two steps out of Yaga’s office.

“What?”

“Even after four years of university in Japan? I said, it’s a date.”

The door shuts behind him, and his grin is even more smug.

The audacity.

“You’re not going on a date with me unless you ask me properly.” You roll your eyes, swaying down the steps. So this was Satoru Gojo.

“C’mon sweetheart, we’d be iconic as hell— the strongest man and the strongest woman? We’d be unstoppable.”

“I don’t even know what you look like underneath that thing.” You say, motioning towards his blindfold.

Oh , but you lied. You’d seen his Instagram.

He was a selfie fanatic. That and a cake fiend.

“Wanna see right now? Will it change your mind?” His voice low and steady behind you.

“I’ve got a curse to excorcise.” You roll your eyes, speeding up ahead of him. It didn’t help much considering his legs were so long.

“You know you wanna,” he bends down, voice deep in your ear.

“I’m not listening~

You’re far ahead of him now, attempting to hide the heat on your face and hearing deep chuckles echo behind you.

“Ah, this is going to be the best six months ever!” He laughs heartily.

A small smile crept on your lips.

Maybe it would be.

[strawberrysoup]

Pocketful of Posies || Chapter 1

You’d been hiding for years and years now; from your family, from society, from alphas and packs. Suppressants were dangerous but effective and necessary for an omega who refused to be owned—but no suppressants were strong enough to fool the nose of a super soldier, who together with his pack would stop at nothing to bind you to them forever. 

pairings: dark!Avengers x reader word length: 3.3k chapters: 1/? warnings: A/B/O dynamics, power imbalances, noncon and dubcon sexual situations, loss of autonomy, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat — this is a dark!fic, read at your own risk. Open the read more and CTRL + F, search “content warnings” to skip to detailed trigger warnings at the bottom of the chapter.

Cleaning rich people’s vacation homes hadn’t been your dream job growing up. You had such high hopes when you were a kid, well into your teens, of becoming a zoologist. It had started off like most kid’s dreams—in kindergarten you wanted to be a veterinarian. That grew into wanting to become a herpetologist, but then you wondered, why limit yourself? As a zoologist you could be around tons and tons of animals, studying their behaviors and ecological impacts. It was about half way past your fourteenth birthday that you realized none of your dreams mattered.

You woke in the middle of the night to a crippling pain in your stomach, an unbearable heat boiling under your flesh. You must’ve been screaming, because your parents burst in frantically—only to stop dead upon stepping past the threshold. At the time you had no idea why, but it had been shock. Omegas were rare nowadays, more and more betas were being born while the number of omegas dropped. It was a point on contention; betas could breed with alphas, rendering the omega almost obsolete but alphas, especially ones with packs, wanted omegas.

Personally, you figured that evolution had decided to take things into its’ own hands. Everything about omegas spat in the face of adaption; they were small and delicate, hardwired to obey alpha commands even to their own detriment, experienced a full weeks’ worth of being completely and utterly incapable of survival on their own—

Well, unless one acquired (through whatever means necessary) methods to prevent it that one. Heats, a homegrown threat guaranteed to commit acts of violence at least twice a year. By the time your first had worn off, your parents had already jumped into action. They had three different packs bidding on you. Your mother had been bubbling with glee, talking about how wonderful it was that she had produced an omega when she herself was a beta. Your very existence was about to rocket them into both fame and fortune. So, you ran away. That same night.

It had been shockingly easy to locate illegal suppressants. They taught all about them in school, how they were horrible and taxing on an omega’s physiology. Suppressants masked an omega’s scent, prevented their heats, and (in your opinion) were the best invention of the twenty first century. You couldn’t have given a flying fuck about what negative impacts they might’ve had on your body—death would be a reprieve. Unfortunately you’d yet to have any of the widely touted negative effects (effects that you were pretty sure were made up to keep omegas afraid and compliant) and so you found yourself cleaning rich people’s vacation homes just over the Canadian border.

You’d been living out of your car since you first bought it at sixteen, for five hundred dollars. You gave a creepy beta a blowjob to get your license forged. It was the best investment you’d ever made (not that you had the opportunity to make many) and the clunker was still getting you from point A to point B and that’s all you needed. You had to move constantly, staying in one place too long meant people started to notice you, especially in the small towns you frequented in Ontario. But there was so much forest surrounding you that every once in a while you could just drop off the face of the earth, camping so deep in the woods no one would stumble across you. It made staying anonymous so much easier.

That was actually the current plan, after you finished cleaning this last massive cabin; to abscond into the woods for a while, until you’ve faded from everyone’s memory. You won’t return to this town for at least a year. You’ll spark recognition when you return, but not enough for anyone to consider you more than an outsider in their close-knit community. The kind woman who lets you work for her cleaning company so sporadically will remember you when you ring her, the only person particularly thrilled to hear you’re back for a few months.

You do an excellent job and you do it fast— you can thoroughly and perfectly clean a 6 bedroom mansion by yourself in less than 10 hours and you were paid under the table so you didn’t require overtime, which Mrs. Hunt loved (there was no tax to be taken from an unreported cash payment though, so it was a fair trade in your opinion). You would work yourself to the bone, 10 hours a day everyday there was work available for at least three months and then dip without any expectations until the next time you returned, when she was gushing over the amazing reviews your work had gotten the last time you were around.

It was symbiotic existence—you were paid well for your efforts, more than enough to sustain living out of your car for months at a time, and your performance drove her online reviews into the 4.9 stars range and made it feasible for her to raise her prices. Mrs. Hunt didn’t ask any questions either, even when you requested to only work alone and couldn’t provide any identification beyond a driver’s license.

You were finishing up the kitchen in what was definitely one of the nicest places you’d ever cleaned when your phone went off in your back pocket. It made your skin prickle. Very few people had your number and you couldn’t think of a single reason they’d ring you instead of texting unless something was wrong.  You propped the mop against your shoulder and dug out the phone, frowning at Mrs. Hunt’s name on the screen.

“Hello?”

“Oh sweetie, I’m so glad I got a hold of you! How are you doing?”

“I’m well, Mrs. Hunt,” you answered, your voice coming out semi-robotically as you strained not to sound panicked while continuing the conversation like a normal fucking person, “I’m just about done here, I was finishing the dry mop in the kitchen when you called and then all I need to do is pack up.”

“Oh perfect! I was calling because the owner just rang me, apparently some of his packmates will be arriving a bit earlier than anticipated—potentially within the next hour. Something about someone getting caught up at work, I’ll spare you the details. But if you’re almost done then you’ll probably be gone by the time they arrive.”

“Certainly Mrs. Hunt,” you’d immediately started frantically dry mopping the moment the words ‘within the next hour’ escaped the woman’s mouth, phone clamped between your ear and shoulder. “I’ll be gone in the next few minutes.”

“Now even if you aren’t its okay,” the concern in her voice meant that your own had betrayed you, waivered when you responded without your knowledge. “I always warn the owners that if they arrive before the scheduled time that there’s a possibility the house won’t be done and/or there might be people actively working in the house. You won’t get in any trouble, okay?”

“R-Right, thank you ma’am,” you swallowed heavily, finishing the last swipe across the tile in the kitchen and hustling back into the foyer. “I really won’t be but a minute though. I always keep all of my equipment put away and together if I’m not using it, so I really just need to pack up the mop.”

Which you’d already shoved into the rolling cart you picked up each morning that held all of your cleaning supplies provided by the company.

“Don’t forget your bucket too!” Mrs. Hunt sounded smiley again, “I’ll leave the key under the mat so you can stow your cart tonight. Have a good one swee—.”

“You too!” You might’ve hung up a touch too soon to be considered polite, shoving the phone back into your pocket and running into the kitchen. There was no time to dwell on manners. 

The mop bucket was sitting on the counter, already washed and dried and waiting to be put away. You’d started keeping your things completely put away at all times the same day you’d been accosted by a homeowner who arrived home earlier than expected while you were still trying to pack up. You’d tried to put your notice in that night, a couple of years ago now, but Mrs. Hunt begged you not to—promised it would never happen again. This must’ve been her best attempt at preventing it. At least you had already planned to leave town tonight anyway.

You nearly sprinted back to the cart, haphazardly tossing the stupid bucket on top and wheeling it towards the huge front doors. You’d just stopped to reach around and grab the handle when the knob turned and the left door was pushed open, nearly hitting your cart.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” he was a beta, curly haired and dark eyed with pale skin, wearing a pair of glasses on the bridge of his nose. “Did I knock anything over?”

“N-No, sir,” you pulled the cart back a few steps, nearly trembling with the effort it took not to blast right past him, especially when you noticed him carefully scenting the air. "The house is all clean, I was j-just leaving.”

“Thank you, for getting everything clean for us. We don’t get to come out here as often as we like, I’m sure the place collected a lot of dust in our absence,” he smiled, looking both parts shy and calculating to your well trained eye— and you had no time for such consideration.

“Not too much, h-have a nice night!” You could feel your pulse racing and that was bad. Even the good suppressants, the ones that most of your money went to, had difficulty completely masking the scent of panicking omega.

“Did you use bleach?” The question caught you off guard and you almost jumped when he put a hand on your cart, glancing through the array of chemicals.

“Y-Yes, in the bathrooms. I wasn’t informed of any sensitivities—”

“Nothing a little fresh air won’t take care of,” you wanted him to stop looking at you like that, like there was some pale flash of recognition behind his eyes. “Would you go open the windows in the bathrooms upstairs? I’m afraid my nose is pretty sensitive, several of my packmates are similar.”

You did not like that his nose was especially sensitive and you hated that his packmates were similarly afflicted. It felt like getting punched in the face with a fight or flight instinct, your brain immediately demanded that you leave the cart and run past him—fuck the cart, fuck the job, you could find something else.

“Oh, and do you have the key to the front doors? I might as well get them from you now instead of us having to go down to the office tomorrow.” Your hand immediately dove into your pocket, yanking out the single key and dropping it in his palm. “Thanks— and the windows? Sorry, I just can’t go up there until it’s aired out.”

He wasn’t a huge man but the way he filled the doorway made you second guess trying to run past him, even if he was greying at the temples and looking a little rumpled. It was strange, you wouldn’t usually have such an intense reaction to a beta, but something about him was vaguely unsettling. So instead of trying to make a run for it, you turned on your heel and forced yourself to calmly walk up the stairs. There were four massive bedrooms in the cabin, each with its own bathroom and you’d need to go through and open the windows for the three bathrooms that had them. It meant darting into huge bedrooms, dodging expensive furniture and knickknacks and trying not to dirty the freshly mopped and swept hardwood floors in the process.

It took about five minutes but you felt like you’d run a marathon, your heart was pounding and there was sweat at the nape of your neck. All you wanted was out of the stupid fucking house, immediately. You dashed down the stairs and turned the corner, seeing your cart right where you left it. The door was still open too, but the beta was no where to be seen. You immediately darted forward, grabbing the cart tightly and beginning to push it past the threshold—

You were stopped in your tracks at the sight of two unnecessarily broad alphas. Both were tall, the white man standing just an inch or so taller, with a full beard and blond hair. The black alpha had facial hair too, a cleanly edged goatee to match a faded cut. Both were incredibly attractive and putting off waves of pheromones, to the point that your head floated for a moment.  Your lips clamped shut on a whine, instinct trying to push through and alert the two powerful alphas of your presence. Instead you ducked your head and continued out the door.

“Hi there, sweetheart.” Your gaze snapped up, immediately locking with a pair of dark brown eyes. “You the housekeeper?”

“Yes sir,” you answered quietly, stopping short in front of them when neither moved out of your way. “Sorry to have been here so late. Have a good evening.”

Both were still smiling, still pointedly not moving.

“My name’s Steve, that’s Sam,” the blond’s nose twitched, just slightly, and you realized he was very discretely scenting the air. “Nice to meet you. Do you live in town?”

“N-No, please excuse me,” you nudged the cart forward just an inch but they still didn’t budge and panic began coursing through your blood with renewed vigor, “excuse m—”

“Your scent is… confusing,” Steve’s head tilted to the side, “I don’t mean to be crass, of course, but I couldn’t help but notice.”

“It’s always been this way,” the response was automatic and your brain began shutting down all unnecessary functions; you were about to have to run and hope your omega physiology would make you faster than them.

“You smell almost like an omega,” he continued, both hands coming to rest on his hips, emphasizing the width of his shoulders. “But not quite?”

“I’m a beta.”

“Are you sweetheart?” Sam’s voice was a rumble, his head tilted to the side while his dark eyes burned holes into your skin.

The tone an alpha used with naughty omegas was deliberate and tightly controlled, the same as a command or a purr or a growl. It was on purpose, an attempt to nicely draw out the correct response. He wanted you to admit you were an omega, to tell them the truth of your own volition. The fact that your hindbrain desperately wanted to comply was a completely different issue—one you didn’t have time to address right now.

“Positive,” you breathed, clenching your fists tightly around the handles of the cart for just a second before deciding to leave it behind; you’d never be coming back here, there was no reason to worry about preserving your job.

Your eyes were quick and indefinitely perceptive. Being an omega was one step up from being a prey species, it came with inherent instincts that made you especially good at predicting behaviors. After all, an omega was only as good as their ability to please and soothe packmates. One of the single upsides to being an omega was that you were fast though—fast enough to outrun most alphas. And you only needed to go about a hundred and fifty feet, once you were in your car you could certainly get away. So the second you realized the pair was about to shift, moving to face each other more than you, you darted around the cart and dodged to the left.

It wasn’t your fault, honestly. There was no way you could’ve known you weren’t dealing with normal alphas. The blond was so fast that he almost moved between blinks—one moment he was still, the next he’d wrapped his arms around you and tugged you back into his chest. His arms were like steel, one wrapped around your torso to keep your arms pinned to your sides while the other carefully held your chin. Your hindbrain was screaming now, submit, submit, make alpha happy and you bit down on your tongue to hold in the whimpers, the omega sounds your throat was trying to produce.

“Shhh, shh, calm down,” it was half a tone away from being a purr and you continued to squirm while you still could—an alpha command was coming, you could feel it in your bones.

“Let Steve smell you,” Sam was rumbling instead of talking again, a similar half purr to how Steve had started speaking. "Everything’s okay, omega.”

You felt a nose nudge down your neck, towards your scent gland and you bared your teeth at the man in front of you. “I’m not an omega!”

“You smell like omega,” Steve’s breath ghosted over your skin and you fought a shiver. "Sort of. It’s buried, under… beta… sour beta?”

“What sort of suppressants are you on, sweetie?” You startled as the beta from earlier emerged from the house, wiping his hands on a dish towel absently. "Are you cutting them with anything? Heroin, or coke? It’s okay, you just need to tell me.”

“Tell Bruce sweetheart,” Sam coaxed, automatically moving to roll up the sleeves of your shirt, evidently looking for track marks. "Where do you get them?”

“I’m not on suppressants!” Your voice was almost a shriek at this point, desperately imitating the behavior of an angry beta rather than a terrified omega. “I’m a beta! Get off of me!”

“Okay, okay, here then,” Steve’s arm around your torso tightened, the one on your chin beginning to work its way down towards your jeans. "There’s only way one to tell for sure.”

Shock and fear and humiliation; an array of emotions swarmed through your body as his hand popped the button but those were the three you could identify and you immediately started thrashing your legs—he was going to check if you had an omega ridge and then everything would be over. It was a defining physical characteristic that couldn’t be passed off as anything other than what it was: a boney protrusion meant to catch on an alpha’s knot so they could be locked in place. In females it was found in the vagina, prominently featured directly before the g-spot so a knot would cause persisting pleasure. For males it was similarly positioned next to the prostate.

“Calm down, calm down!” Sam crooned, hands coming up to cup your face as while Steve’s slithered down the front of your jeans and into your panties. "It’s okay sweetheart, no matter what. Whatever Steve finds, you’re okay. You’re safe. We’ll keep you safe.”

The thrashing was doing nothing but tiring you out, you’d already been intensively cleaning for the past 9 hours without a break and it certainly wasn’t dissuading the hand slithering between your folds. You bit down on your tongue harder, until you drew blood to prevent the whimpers—you couldn’t make that stupid sound, you’d never make that stupid, pathetic, whiney noise, you couldn’t. Not even when a long, thick finger penetrated and sunk knuckle deep. Not even when the pad of said finger brushed your g-spot before hooking onto the ridge, tugging gently in a way that would’ve caused blinding pleasure had you not grounded yourself with the pain of biting your tongue.

“There it is,” Steve’s voice was soft, finger carefully running the length of the ridge. "A nice deep one too.”

“How long have you been taking suppressants?” Bruce prodded quietly, coming to stand next to Sam. “I need to know what sort of damage we’re looking at.”

When you didn’t respond Sam sighed, fingers brushing gently over your chin as he directed you to face him. "Please don’t make us use an alpha command, sweetheart. We just wanna take care of you. Tell Bruce how long you’ve been on suppressants, please.”

You regarded the handsome alpha for several short moments before spitting a mouthful of blood directly into his face.

 content warnings: assault, noncon vaginal fingering

edited 7/9/21 - still on hiatus

[allygodot]

Taking Accountability

My name is Adam, but people online call me Coffee. I’m a 27 years old graduate of Chicago Law School living in Green Bay, Wisconsin. I am a heterosexual Christian, but am an ally to the LGBT community. My main interests are Ace Attorney, Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure, and My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic. These are all things my followers should know about me, so why am I telling you this? Well... what if I told you it was all a lie? I’m sure this is coming as a shock to a lot of you, and I sincerely apologize to everyone I’ve hurt with my deception. It is my hope that this post will clear up any misconceptions that have been spread about me, whether I spread them myself or otherwise, and that in the future there will be no animosity between us. I don’t expect to be forgiven nor do I deserve it, but if there is one thing I learned from my time in the church it is that all I can do is ask for mercy and hope for the best. But first... I think an explanation is in order. If all that isn’t the truth, then what is? It all starts in college, that nebulous period of my life that everyone keeps asking about and I keep bringing up. Before I went to university, I had always been completely unremarkable. I had always had the kind of fair weather friends who enjoyed my company, but never felt to invested in me. Combined with my status as a middle child, I always felt like I had something to prove to get people to like me. I would say and think whatever I needed to for them to stick around another day, and I’m sure you are familiar with what that means for teenage boys. I acted immaturely because it was what was expected... and anything outside of that was looked down upon it even forbidden. I never thought much of it at the time, but I realize now that I wasn’t allowed much self-expression when I was always trying to conform to their standards. Everything changed when I met him. My assigned college roommate, Anton, was everything my years of conditioning had taught me to distrust. Despite his tall stature, he was emotional and sensitive... even vulnerable. Even so, he wasn’t afraid to be unabashedly himself. The first thing that struck me as unusual about him was his clothing... he almost always wore pastel pink or yellow and I hardly ever saw him without his long, checkered scarf. His nails were always painted with a clear, glittery polish, and I don’t think he ever skipped a shower in his life. His hair was always soft and smelled like strawberry even at a distance... all this to say he immediately struck me as fruity so I wanted nothing to do with him, at least initially. Despite his kindness to me, I would always respond with either the cold shoulder or open scorn, which only amplified the more I learned about him. I discovered pretty quickly that he was a furry, since one day I came home from a day of classes to find a decapitated pink cat head on our couch. He patiently explained the whole culture to me while I glared at him skeptically, but he didn’t seem bothered at all. He even brought out his paws and tail and told me he was saving up for a full suit despite my open disgust. Looking back, I still have no clue why he put up with me during that time. Another curious aspect of Anton’s life was his addiction to a certain television series called “My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic.” His room was filled with merchandise from stuffed animals to figurines, and I had nothing but disdain for the tacky and embarrassing decoration. I was afraid that if I ever brought a girl over to our apartment she would notice and make all sorts of incorrect assumptions... I couldn’t handle the embarrassment. I tried on multiple occasions to convince him to hide them in a secret box or something, but he always just smiled and shook his head. I even tried to sneak into his room and collect all the ponies for donation once, but he had anticipated this and hid a playful trap for me... I reached forward to grab one of his overpriced statues and immediately got a face full of multi-colored snakes. I was livid of course, despite it being my own fault for trying to pawn of his collection in the first place, but he wasn’t even phased by my tirade. I suppose he was 6’5” and I was (and still am) only 5′7″... but still, I had at least expected him to be somewhat apologetic if not fearful. Instead, he just laughed and told me I should watch the show with him sometime. I obviously had no intentions of taking him up on his ludicrous offer... until he promised that if I didn’t enjoy the show, he would move all of his ponies into a case that he would throw a big curtain on whenever I said the word. I reluctantly agreed on those conditions, positive that this was a bet I couldn’t lose. I still remember that night like it was yesterday. He lead me into the pony chamber and sat down on his bed, taking out his laptop to pull up his favorite episode. It was “The Canterlot Wedding” two part season finale, and although I initially protested that I only agreed to watch one episode, I eventually relented once he reminded me what the prize was. I was hesitant to sit beside him on his bed and lean over his shoulder to look at the small screen, but he assured me that it didn’t bother him at all. I wasn’t particularly concerned with how he felt about it... it was more so my own pride I was worried about. Nevertheless, I sat through the whole episode with him despite myself. Although I was disturbed by the tendency for his long and curly hair to gravitate into my mouth while I rested my cheek against his shoulder, I found the episode to be surprisingly enjoyable. The song in particular surprised me with it’s musicality... by the end of it I didn’t want to leave, but I was far too embarrassed to admit that to him earnestly. I told him I was interested in the show purely for the songs and that it could benefit my studies as a music major, but that he still had to uphold his end of the bargain since I was by no means enjoying it. He just smiled and put on another episode, and before I knew it the sun was rising outside his window. I realized just how tired I was and turned to tell him I would be going to bed only to discover he had fallen asleep. I began to suspect that he must have been asleep for several hours, letting the auto-play functionality do his job for him while he rested up for his exams. Although I was scandalized, I was impressed by his tactical prowess... he had managed to trap me in his room, since I couldn’t move from my spot without disturbing his slumber, and he didn’t even have to be awake to do it. Begrudgingly, I spent the rest of his room, until eventually the faint aroma of strawberries lured me into the world of dreams... This arrangement continued for quite some time. When I got home from my classes, Anton would ask me if I wanted to watch some My Little Pony with him and I only agreed so long as he put the curtain over the cabinet next time I asked. He always obliged whenever I asked him to conceal his collection, but eventually I stopped asking for him to do so and only reminded him not to break our contract before every episode out of habit. It became a ritual for the two of us to do this every night, and even once we had finished all of the episodes we would just watch them again. I found that I was becoming endeared to this eccentric man... and as much as I tried to resist it, I couldn’t help but feel my heart swell a bit in my chest whenever he would run his fingers through his hair or tighten his scarf around his neck. I told myself it was nothing... but it wouldn’t remain that way for long. I don’t know what possessed me, but one night I thought I would get to know Anton a little better. I started by asking if he was single, which to me seemed like an innocuous question, but the very fact I was asking seemed to amuse him. He told me that he was having trouble finding a guy who wasn’t immediately turned off by all the ponies, and I made sure to snidely comment that he shouldn’t be going out with guys anyway even though it made my heart skip a beat when he said that, as well as mention that if he would just give up his collection there wouldn’t be an issue in the first place. I don’t know what I was expecting, but he asked me the same thing: how was my love life going, especially considering my new hobby? I couldn’t help but get flustered and start making excuses. I told him that there was no shortage of girls lined up to date me, but that I just wasn’t ready to make a commitment yet. I spun a whole story about how a girlfriend would only hold me back... I almost forgot that the standard that Anton accepted was completely different from my old teenage friends. He wasn’t impressed that girls were apparently lining up to get a piece of me... he just seemed amused that I thought such a thing was realistic, much less desirable. He didn’t understand that compulsive need to lie at all... he thought it would be better if more guys admitted that they were vulnerable. That was the first time I’d ever heard someone say something like that... I suddenly felt extremely exposed, and before I knew it my eyes were full of tears. My first instinct was to cover my face with my sleeve and hide my shame, but he was already firmly gripping my arm and holding it in place. He told me that I didn’t need to hide anything from him. He asked me if there was anything he could do to help me... and so for what felt like the first time in my life, I told the truth. It was supposed to be just to try it. I wasn’t expecting to actually enjoy it, I just thought that if I got it out of my system all of the unnecessary feelings would finally stop tormenting me... but all they did was grow stronger. I kept telling him that I was still looking for a girlfriend and that once I got one this whole arrangement would end, but eventually I realized that there was no point in lying to myself anymore. I wasn’t ever even sleeping in my own room anymore. I hadn’t so much as glanced at any dating websites in weeks. I was committed, whether I wanted to admit it or not... and I didn’t want to admit it. I only wish that I had told him how I really felt when I had the chance... One of the many things we started to share, which seemed the most inconsequential to me at the time, was a webpage. Anton was the owner of a small subreddit dedicated to My Little Pony fursuits, and he asked me if I would be willing to help him moderate. It wasn’t something I felt qualified to speak as an authority on, since even as I became more open about my love for ponies I still didn’t really feel connected to furry culture despite accompanying him to several conventions, but I was willing to do basically anything just to please him. My job was mostly to stop people from publicly “yiffing,” and although it was a grueling line of work it wasn’t thankless. Anton was a poet with words of affirmation. Many of the compliments he paid me were certainly undeserved, but they motivated me more than anything else ever had... but I got too zealous. There was a certain user on the server who for the sake of protecting privacy, we shall call XxLesbianRainbowDash69xX. As a member of the subreddit they were of course a brony and a furry, but what made them stand out was their dedication to the Flutterdash ship. They were constantly posting couple’s cosplays of themselves dressed as Rainbow Dash, but the Fluttershy in each picture was always different. They were also exceptionally sociable and aggressively tried to make friends with everyone on the tiny subreddit... Anton and I included. I wasn’t so keen on pursuing another friendship that could very well ruin my reputation, but of course Anton was immediately taken with the idea. The two of them exchanged contacts and hit it off instantly, and I started having trouble sleeping at night because he was awake in the early hours of the morning texting his friend in another timezone. He always paid me just as much attention as always during the daytime, but once he saw that his new friend was online he would crawl out of bed to go converse with them in another room. He was trying so hard to be considerate of me, and perhaps it was selfish for me to expect that I would always be able to sense his warmth and scent beside me while I slept... but at the time I was blinded by jealousy. One fateful morning, he excitedly woke me up to tell me that XxLesbianRainbowDash69xX had gifted him tickets to a major convention, and that the two of them were planning to cosplay Flutterdash together. He apologetically explained that he would be gone for a few days since the convention was halfway across the country, but sensing the disturbance within me he assured me that he could probably convince his friend to let me tag along as Applejack... she was always my least favorite. It didn’t matter what Anton said to encourage me, because I was never going to accept any consolation until this threat to our sacred relationship was eliminated. I had to find a way to get rid of XxLesbianRainbowDash69xX by any means necessary... In a fit of rage, I whipped out the ban hammer and beat my rival to death with it, metaphorically speaking. It was a blatant abuse of my privilege as a moderator and I am ashamed to admit it now... but at the time all that mattered was covering up the evidence. I knew I had to come up with an excuse for why I had banned them, so I added a new rule to the subreddit: Flutterdash was prohibited. The news was not met with acceptance from the other members of the community. To some more in the loop with the situation, it was obvious that I had only banned XxLesbianRainbowDash69xX because of a petty personal dispute, but others saw it as nothing but an unfair rule. I was accused of being biased towards other ships like Flutterchord or Appledash and that I needed to accept other people’s ship preferences, or even that I was homophobic and couldn’t handle the thought of lesbian characters in my favorite show. Chants of “mods are gay” could be heard across the subreddit from all sides of the debate, and everyone was rallying for Anton to remove me as a tyrannical moderator. Sound familiar? I can’t help but notice some similarities between my situation and Mo the one over at Kristahlia Week... maybe that is why the drama captivated me so.  Anton tried to reason with me, bless his heart, but at this point I had completely devolved back into my screaming teenager mentality to cope with all the rejection. He was obviously disappointed in me for what I had done but he had no reason to believe it would ruin us... he couldn’t have handled it better. It really was my fault that things happened the way they did, but I refused to take accountability. What I told him still haunts my conscience to this day, even six years later. I told him that I never loved him, and that I was only using his companionship to fulfill my carnal desires. I told him that I didn’t care about what he did with his life as long as he didn’t do anything that kept him away from me. I even told him that I still thought he was disgusting and embarrassing. And the worst thing is... in that moment I meant every word. I was so selfish... I genuinely forgot that I loved him and treated him like he only existed to serve me. My actions were truly despicable and I deserved to suffer for it... and I did. For the first time, I saw Anton cry. I should have been there to comfort him like he did for me on that fateful night, but instead I let him run out of the house to go suffer by himself. By the time I realized how horrible I was acting, it was too late. He had disappeared into the night, never to be seen again. I came home the next day to discover all the ponies in the apartment finally gone... isn’t that what I had wanted? My moderator status on the subreddit had been stripped away, and I had been banned by all of the members of the group on nearly every social media platform. Another classmate later informed me that Anton had transferred to a different college... and that was the end. I have no idea what happened to him after that, but I can only hope he is doing well. Instead of taking this as an omen that I should improve my behavior, I began to become even more bitter than I was before I met Anton. I acted like my relationship with him was just an experimental phase that was doomed to fail from the start, and soon I was denying that it ever even happened at all. I convinced myself that the problem in our relationship was that I wasn’t supposed to be with men, and so I began to insist that I was straight and aggressively seek out relationships with women just to prove it to myself. I also started searching for strict moral codes that could give direction to my life... which is when I found the Church. I was attracted to their beliefs because they gave a very clear outline for how someone’s life should go and promised ultimate happiness to anyone who could fulfill the requirements, so I began to obsess over meeting those requirements. I wanted a Christian wife that could bear me many children not because that is how I wanted to live my life, but because that is how other people wanted me to live my life... and all I wanted was for others to tell me I was doing something right. The congregation was distrusting if me at first, and although they never said it to my face I know it was because they were aware of my past. Hardly a woman would come near me, and looking back on it I can’t say I blame them. The ones who were desperate enough for a husband to give me a shot were quirky repulsed by my egotistical behavior, which certainly didn’t help my reputation. Throughout all this, I still somehow told myself I was the victim because I didn’t want to admit that I had become the villain again. For a long time, the only person in the parish who would willingly hold a conversation with me was Lana. She was a fellow member of the choir and a devout believer in God, but she was often judged by the rest of the congregation for being an open lesbian despite her faith. She tried to convince me on several occasions that I didn’t have to perform any sort of identity to impress anyone and that I should “just be myself,” but I insisted that I knew what I was talking about. Eventually, she decided my well-being wasn’t her responsibility and gave up on trying to reason with me, but nonetheless she still treated me more kindly then many of the other churchgoers. I believe that my “dark past” is what drew Gabriella to me in the first place. She likely hoped that we could act as covers for each other until she figured some way out of her situation, but unfortunately I was too far gone to be of any help. I convinced myself that she was really in love with me and that she would be walking down the aisle soon enough. Whether or not I was really interested in her or just interested in what she represented I’m still not sure... but she truly was a wonderful person who didn’t deserve to have to suffer through my baggage. When she left me I was truly devastated... so much so that I even began to go through another crisis of belief that I recorded on this very blog. All I have to add is that I no longer bear any resentment towards Lana or Gabriella, and only wish them the best of luck. My relationship with Krissy began almost immediately after my breakup with Gabriella. I was desperate to regain the status I supposed that I had lost along with my girlfriend, so I latched onto the first woman who showed me any sort of positive attention. Her death and my downward spiral are all well-documented on this blog. I didn’t want to blame myself for her passing as well, so I developed a conspiracy to rationalize the whole ordeal. I even tried to act like a completely different person to try to keep the blame as mentally distant from myself as possible, but that didn’t work either. In the end, this is my cross to bear alone. So that brings us to now. What will become of allygodot? The truth is, I don’t know and quite frankly I don’t think that is the most important thing right now. I realized last night when I was looking at that art of Diego and Godot as Happy Tree Friends characters that I desperately wanted to be anyone other than myself... it really opened my eyes to the level of repression that had been burdening me since the incident six years ago. I realized that if I wanted to change, sitting around and thinking about how things could hypothetically be different isn’t going to do anything. If I want to make progress and truly become a better person, I’m going to have to act better, not just tell myself that I am. From now on, I will be defining myself on my actions and not my beliefs, as wise man once said. I hope that soon, I will have become a good enough person to meet Anton face to face again... I still love him after all these years, and even though I expect that he justifiably won’t want anything to do with me anymore, I still think that it is a guilt that needs to be resolved. If I ever come back to this blog, it’ll be as a different Adam to the one you thought that you knew. It’ll be as the Adam I’m trying to become... the true Adam that I know exists deep within me... Not allygodot, but as proudgodot. My name is Adam, but people online call me Coffee or Godot. I’m a 27 years old former music student living in Green Bay, Wisconsin. I am bisexual. My main interests are Ace Attorney, Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure, and My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic.

[snowbellewells]

“Thick as Thieves (or Princesses)”

I hope you will enjoy my first brand new one shot in quite a while. It’s written for the lovely Alma ( @teamhook ) for the #love4teamhook collection. Though I realize this didn't happen in canon, I consider it more a divergent missing moment which could have happened than fully AU. Killian did seem to make friends with a lot of the various princesses who came and went on "Once", until it sort of seemed like he had a Princess Squad. This story came from that.

Alma, it’s my hope that this little sidetrip to Agrabah might bring a few chuckles as welll as some heartwarming fluff.

Summary: When Killian, Emma, and the Storybrooke crew travel to Agrabah for the wedding of Aladdin and Jasmine, our pirate learns just how many people have his back.

Also available on AO3 here

“Thick as Thieves (or Princesses)”

by: @snowbellewells 

“I never thought I’d see the day,” a disgruntled voice tsked, standing at the mirror and just out of Emma’s line of sight. The speaker had that disapproving tone to her words, one that Emma had come to know well growing up surrounded by people who looked down their noses at her and were constantly disappointed in her prickly demeanor and tough exterior.

The speaker’s companion, a woman whose robes were a violently garish mauve and who kept fluffing her already quite voluminous mane of curly dark hair, sighed in regretful agreement. Her curls bounced as she seemed to nod sagely at her friend’s words. “It’s true - seems just about anyone can marry into the royal family now.”

The first woman tittered gleefully, enjoying having a sympathetic ear for her gossip no doubt. “Never mind the scruffy length of that Aladdin’s hair…” the mocking emphasis she put on the new prince consort of Agrabah’s name, as if it were too ridiculous to take seriously, had Emma clenching her fist angrily, ready to storm into view and speak up on her friend’s behalf. However, the rest of the woman’s words, knocked her back on her heels for several stunned, painful seconds, “...but did you see the sort of riff raff on his side of the aisle? Street rat that he is, I suppose I really shouldn’t have expected more from the guest list, but honestly!”

“And the visitors are no better! What are Queen Snow and her Charming thinking accepting a pirate for a son-in-law… with his reputation and that hook?”

Emma’s pulse was pounding so strongly in her temples that her vision was going a bit hazy when she charged into the ladies room from the short hall where she’d been listening, revealing herself to the bitter hags at the sinks, practically vibrating with righteous anger and staring them both down as their mouths fell open in shocked embarrassment. Their entire aspects changed as they began to simper and apologize, hoping to placate the royal standing before them.

Emma was having none of it. She might not have grown up being taught the diplomacy and etiquette she would have if she’d had the chance to really grow up as Princess of Misthaven, but she had enough manners not to mock people behind their backs and then feign sweetness and innocence to their faces. Breathing heavily, she glared at both of the Agrabahn women. She darkly thought that the scare served them right as their obsequious attempts to atone eventually trailed off into silence. Crossing her arms over her chest, intending to cut every bit as imposing a figure in demure light blue dress (so she’d wanted to try to match her pirate’s eyes, sue her!) as she would wearing her red leather jacket and sheriff’s badge.

“You two should be really glad I don’t know your names. I can’t imagine that the Sultan would like to deal with this sort of disloyalty on such a happy occasion. He at least seems astute enough to care for who brings his daughter happiness rather than who comes bearing the fanciest pedigree or the newest style.”

Blowing out a breath, she almost turned on her heel to storm back out and leave them with some food for thought, but then she wheeled back around, drawing even closer, until she was almost nose-to-nose with the two gossips. “And furthermore, my husband might have been an indentured servant, and a pirate, but he is the finest man in all the Realms, and I won’t stand for any insinuations otherwise. If you really want to pick on a street rat, you might as well start with me. I may have been born a princess, but I grew up as much ‘riff raff’ as you called your new prince.”

She gave them an arched brow and waited; a clear challenge to direct their taunts and barbs to her face. 

Shaking their heads in nervous denial the two women quickly excused themselves and hurried from the room without looking back.

“That’s what I thought,” Emma muttered under her breath with a curt little bob of her head as she watched them flee. She wasn’t even offended on her own behalf; she didn’t care if some strangers and hangers-on thought she was the “right sort” of royal, and she knew her parents felt the same. The barbs struck beneath Killian’s armor though. He talked a good game, and played off such insults well if one didn’t know him as Emma did. He judged himself too harshly and was loath to bring any imagined slight to her name with his past.

Shaking her head, Emma breathed out a sigh, hoping to shrug off her consternation, knowing said pirate would be waiting for her just outside. 

Sure enough, as she re-entered the large, open air ballroom set up on the shining gilt-covered porches of the Sultan’s palace, her husband was at her side in moments. Brows waggling playfully, he clearly had a quip or come-on at the tip of his tongue, but he stopped short at the sight of her face. Head tilted to study her, his hand came to her elbow, steadying her curiously. “What is it, Love? You look like thunder!”

She wasn’t about to lie to him any more than she intended to hurt him; they understood each other too well for that. “Nothing important,” she fluttered her hand carelessly. “Just turns out that snobs and bullies are the same in any realm is all.”

He gave a small nod of affirmation, clearly understanding her. “Aye, that does seem to be the way of it.”

Both were quiet for a moment watching couples dancing, Aladdin and Jasmine mingling and greeting their guests, Belle laughing merrily as Henry told her some story with impassioned and enthusiastic gestures for emphasis, before Killian spoke up again. Devilishly handsome smirk in place once more, his eyes sparkled as he added. “No matter, Wife. I’m sure you showed them the error of their ways.”

She snorted, shaking her head at his antics, even if he was absolutely right. Holding out his hook to her gallantly, Killian bowed before murmuring so close to her ear that it sent shivers all along her skin, “Pay no more heed then. Dance with me, instead?”

Flushing in a way that she knew spread all the way down to her more pushed-up and on-display than usual decolletage, she grinned broadly. Her husband seemed rather spellbound, his eyes following the rise and fall of her breaths helplessly and his tongue flicked out to trace his full perfect lips at the sight on display. “If you think you can handle it,” she winked. “I was starting to think you’d never ask.”

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

Sometime later, after several dances and Emma’s begging to rest her feet, unused to heels that weren’t knee-high boots these days, Killian had seen her back to the table they were sharing with her parents and Henry, and was fetching them both drinks from the elaborately flowing sangria fountain, somehow arranged to flow steadily into a large punch bowl, where waiters then dipped it into crystal glasses for guests as they approached the table.

“Two please,” he told the server when it was his turn.

Accepting the filled cups a moment later, Killian couldn’t resist a quick sip right then, having worked up quite a thirst with he and Emma’s exertions, the close crowd, and the arid desert surroundings. Humming at the pleasant blend of flavors on his tongue, he questioned curiously, “Is there rum in this? It tastes as though some of the best has been blended in with the fruit juices.”

“I - I believe so,” the server stammered rather uncertainly.

“Well, my compliments. It is one of the better libations I’ve had the pleasure of imbibing.”

It was as he had turned away, heading back to Emma at their table, that he heard the words whispered behind him. “Well, he would know, wouldn’t he?” hissed one lowered voice.

“Word has it he’s found the bottom of more liquor bottles than most people have ever seen,” countered another insinuating murmur.

“A one-handed pirate with a drinking problem given free rein in this palace full of treasure to tempt his baser instincts… seems like a recipe for disaster, if anyone had bothered to ask me,” chimed in a third, the sniff of indignance making that barb carry with a bit more volume. Killian felt his shoulders hiking up toward his ears with the tension, but he managed to hold himself steady and not to turn to glower at the servants threateningly. Time was he would have whirled and taught them all a lesson they’d not soon forget, but he was trying to be a different man - a better man - though it would seem to some his efforts made little difference.

“And to think, he has the Crown Princess of Misthaven on his arm!” huffed yet one more hateful voice, again well within his sharp hearing whether or not that had been the intent. This was the shot which met its mark, causing Killian to drop his eyes to the two cups balanced carefully in his right hand, hoping to make a quick escape before anyone realized he was around. It was like he had tried explaining to Emma before  - people had a long memory when it came to expectations for their leaders, and married True Loves or not, there were some who would never approve of Captain Hook as Prince Consort to one of the most prominent kingdoms in the Realm.

His hasty retreat was abruptly blocked however, by two dainty feet in golden and turquoise-jeweled sandals, barely skimmed by the hem of a long, white silk gown standing right in his way.

Surprised, Killian’s head jerked up to find Princess Jasmine’s eyes staring back at him sympathetically. She had clearly heard the same hateful words he had just been subjected to, yet she appeared anything but ready to sneak off and let it continue. In that moment, with her lips pursed and eyes calculating as she weighed her next move, a delicate hand on his forearm to stall his retreat, she looked incredibly like his fierce and beautiful Swan.

“Speaking of temptation,” she purred, the feigned placid smile on her face a warning as she stepped around him to eye the gathered help pointedly. “The only thing I am tempted to do is search for a new kitchen staff - one cultured enough not to speak ill of a particular friend of the bride and an honored guest.” Princess Jasmine was a petite woman, but the way she drew herself up before them, staring down her nose imperiously at each offender in turn, made her seem every inch a tall, proud monarch it would not be wise to cross.

A hushed, abashed-eyed chorus of “Yes, ma’ams” and “Apologies, your majesty,” fell over each other as the whisperers bowed or curtsied and then hurried from the princess’ sight, properly rebuked for having displeased her, and on her wedding day no less.

“Ahh… thank you, Milady,” Killian offered quietly, feeling more than a bit awkward that she had felt she must come to his defense in such a way. He had certainly heard similar insults before - and much worse. Even carefully cradling the two drinks in one hand, he still found the curve of his hook raising to rub behind his ear in nervous embarrassment - his eyes hardly wanting to hold his saucy friend’s gaze even as she eyed him knowingly.

“Nonsense,” she dismissed easily, waving away the sheepish gratitude with a quick flutter of her hand. “They needed correction. Anyone who is going to work in the royal palace needs to be wise enough not to insult the guests!”

“Be that as it may, Lass, there’s no need for you to trouble yourself over my hurt feelings. They weren’t wrong, after all…”

Jasmine was having none of that. Her dark hair beneath the gorgeous flow of her organza veil swished around her as she shook her head emphatically, eyes sparking intently as she refused to allow him to glance away. “Hardly, Captain! I think I am a better judge of character than that, and I know backbiting chatter does not begin to capture all of your fine qualities, merely the flaws. Besides,” and she winked here, lacing her arm through his free one as she steered them back toward his family’s table to greet them all herself, “you would do the same thing for me were the situations reversed.  And I hear that your lovely wife has already been speaking up for my own handsome scoundrel. We princesses who can recognize a diamond in the rough have to stick together!”

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

Things calmed down as the reception festivities wore on through the afternoon. Killian found it easier than expected to brush the sniping words he’d heard to the back of his mind and enjoy himself. There was too much to see and do, too many friends, both new and old, to catch up with, and far more happiness to celebrate than sour notes to dwell on. He had challenged David to a game of darts and trounced the royal soundly. He had spoken at length with Aladdin himself about the future as a married man, starting families, and loving a princess. He had even attempted to settle a heated debate between Henry and Belle over whether The Thousand and One Nights or The Book of the Wonders of India were the better read.  He had respectfully declined to offer his opinion in the end though, knowing better than to side against either one of them when they were so passionately involved.

As the hours seemed to melt heedlessly into evening and the lavish banquet was served to conclude the night, Killian found himself seated with Henry and Emma on one side of him and Belle on the other at a long table, and across from him, grinning broadly with the guileless enthusiasm one couldn’t help but love was none other than Ariel and her husband, Prince Eric. Everyone was chatting happily throughout the appetizer, but as those first plates were cleared away and the main course was served, Killian encountered a rather vexing conundrum. 

The fragrant lamb dish placed before them was tempting enough to make his mouth water in mere seconds. However, how to actually go about eating it posed a bit more of a challenge. Had he been on his own or back in Storybrooke where he was comfortable, it would have been no trouble. He would simply have pierced the larger cut of meat with the point of his hook to hold it still and then cut it into smaller pieces with his knife, then switched to his fork when finished. However, using his hook at this fine a table and in such company seemed as though it might raise a few eyebrows.

He paused, attempting to gauge his options without alerting his companions that anything was amiss. And, of course, it took no more time than that for the jackals to begin circling once more. Prickling along the back of his neck, Killian sensed that he was being watched as he debated his next move. Glancing about him surreptitiously, he found the culprits easily enough. Agrabahn nobles or wives of council members, he thought he remembered vaguely from an earlier introduction. They had also seemed reluctant to shake his hand, and now he saw that his instinctual assessment has been correct. Though he couldn’t hear their actual words, their heads were bent together as their eyes drifted from him to his plate and utensils and back before he did hear a small trill of smug laughter.

What he did not expect was the cry of outrage that rang out just across from him in the next moment. Shooting to her feet with an abruptness that sent her chair toppling to the floor behind her with a loud crash, sweet natured Ariel herself was pointing at the two catty women with a finger that practically trembled in her righteous anger. “How dare you, y-y-you harpies!” she exclaimed, her volume attracting more attention than Killian would have hoped, staring at his plate with jaw clenched enough to make the muscle within it tick noticeably as well as the heat of a blush creeping up his neck to his cheeks.

“You ought to be ashamed of yourselves!” Ariel continued, her own pale cheeks flushed with her fit of pique. Eric reached out a concerned hand in an attempt to soothe her, but she wasn’t finished. Killian half expected her to stamp her foot for more emphasis.

“Have you - either of you - any idea how much the man you’re giggling at can accomplish with just one hand? How much he has done for numerous ones gathered at this very table? It would hardly matter if you were about to see him use one of these ridiculous forks incorrectly!”

As if to illustrate her point, Ariel picked up a fork and twirled it around her fingers rather menacingly, if Killian did say so himself. “I’ve had to learn to eat with unfamiliar manners and utensils too. It’s not as easy as it looks! And if any of you have any more to say about it in regards to my friend, well… I’ll show you another way to weld the pointy end of these things, right in your pompous behinds!”

The whole gathering was stunned into silence for a moment. Killian could hardly move as he watched Ariel breathing heavily and then plunking back down into her righted seat and leaning in Eric’s solid comfort. He could sense Henry’s wide-eyed awe beside him as he looked at the mermaid princess admiringly. Yet, he struggled to make himself shift his eyes to Emma on Henry’s other side, hating that he had put her so close to such an embarrassing spectacle. Though when he did, a relieved whoosh of air escaped as he saw her glancing back at him, biting her lip and looking torn between wanting to pull him away from the table and soothe him as only she knew how, and standing up to whistle and applaud her agreement with Ariel’s speech.

Leaning closer, so that only he and Henry could hear her, Emma’s eyes twinkled merrily with mischievous pleasure as she told him, “You’ve got an entire Princess Squad watching your back, don’t you, Pirate?”

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

Late that night - or early the next morning, depending on how one wanted to look at it - Emma rolled over in bed to prop her chin on her husband’s chest, idly running her fingers through the dark hair covering his always deliciously warm skin. Though he had been holding her cozily as always, arm around her waist and her back pressed to his front, cocooned in his embrace, she knew he was still awake and was sure she knew what was troubling him.

She couldn’t help thanking her fellow princess once again in her mind for remembering that she and Killian were basically still newlyweds as well. Jasmine had seen to it that they had a gorgeously appointed suite to themselves, far enough from her family and the rest of the Storybrooke visitors to afford them some privacy. The large, open room’s windows with gauzy curtains let in the rapidly cooling air deliciously after it had blown so hot across the desert all day. It felt luxurious on her bare skin beneath the fine, light sheets in the giant canopy bed. She had definitely thought there would be some things they could get up to in that bed once they’d returned from the reception some hours ago, but Killian had merely readied for sleep, lay down, and opened his arms to hold her.

Not that there was anything wrong with that, or that she minded cuddling up with her handsome husband whenever they could catch a quiet moment, but she sensed something bothering him in his lack of playful banter and the tension she could feel in his body. That was why when she rolled over and began to run her fingers lightly over his skin. She took a deep breath, and then finally raised her eyes to meet his. Words were not always her strong suit, but she was determined to try - especially when she got a glimpse of the melancholy lingering behind the look of sleepy affection in his eyes.

“You know that those few people who would doubt you are such a tiny minority… don’t you?” she asked, hoping that he did, and that he would believe her in this as he always had before. “And even if they weren’t - which they are - it wouldn’t matter. The people who count know what kind of man you really are; they see the same hero that I do.”

Emma paused, holding her breath, watching as Killian opened his mouth, then closed it, then swallowed hard, before finally speaking aloud in ragged but determined tones. “Aye, so all of you have assured me. Most of the time, I even believe it. Still, those incidents tonight…. They remind me that I do not wish for my past, my villainous reputation, to cast doubt upon your family. I would never want to tarnish your rule or your standing with your people.”

He looked so distraught, so painfully sorry that Emma had to cradle his face in her hands and lean up to kiss him right then, trying to pour all of the comfort and reassurance she possibly could into the gesture, even before she answered his concerns. When she did pull back, he offered her a smile looked at least mildly soothed, and she gently brought one hand back to his chest while the other sought out his hand to twine her fingers with his.

Squeezing gently for emphasis, she tried to answer him the best way she knew how. “Okay, first of all, what’s this about my family and my people? They’re yours now too. Killian, you have to know that my family loves you. My dad is like a lost puppy when you can’t come to his Tuesday Guy’s Nights - ” That did make him crack a genuine smile she noticed happily. “That’s what it means when you marry and two become one, right? What’s mine is yours, and what’s yours is mine. There’s no separating it back out now.”

Killian nodded his agreement, but a furrow of concern still creased his forehead. “Aye, Love, of course you’re right, but still - ”

“Ah ah ah,” she shook her head, cutting him off, “I’m not done. You also have to see that though it felt like a lot bubbled up today, it was less than 10 people, in a gathering of hundreds. They are such a tiny percentage, and they do not matter. Anyone who really knows you would never think any of those things you heard today. Besides that, this rule and kingdom you seem so concerned about? What bearing does that have on our everyday life? Storybrooke isn’t some old-fashioned monarchy, and we’re going back to Storybrooke. You aren’t hurting anything… you make it so much better.” She spoke that last with fervent emphasis, clinging to his hand and waiting for his response.

Slowly the last of the clouds and the frown of concern seemed to ease from her husband’s face. Emma felt her heart flutter a bit as he met her eyes with a look of such awed reverence and love, and joy where there had been shame and self-doubt. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, Emma, but you’re right. I’ll not allow a few naysayers to ruin what we’ve built.”

Shaking her head, eyes welling with tears of relief and love of her own, Emma just managed to choke out, “I’m the one who doesn’t know how I managed to deserve you. You chose me, you didn’t give up on me - even when I made it difficult, and you put me back together, Killian. You - you showed me my heart still worked.”

He was on her the minute she stopped speaking, lips capturing hers as his thumb came up to brush away her tears. He rolled them to hover over her, and just stared at her for a moment, both their hearts pounding, before she reached up and pulled him back to her. There were still a few hours of darkness left, and neither of them planned to waste it with any space between them.

Tagging a few others who might enjoy: @searchingwardrobes @kmomof4 @jennjenn615 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @laschatzi  @revanmeetra87 @xsajx @elizabeethan @donteattheappleshook @therooksshiningknight @spartanguard @xhookswenchx @winterbaby89 @lfh1226-linda @ultraluckycatnd @stahlop @hollyethecurious @gingerchangeling @kday426 @profdanglaisstuff @shireness-says @thisonesatellite @tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl @let-it-raines 

[redinkofshame]

Arranged Marriage

Hipster AU did not spark joy, so I used the Arranged Marriage joker for day 3 of the @augustwritingchallenge. This is probably the last one I’ll do, unless I also do an arranged marriage for Cedric/Cassandra. It’s also my favorite one :D

The evanuris have survived to the dragon age, Fen'Harel included amongst them. In order to make peace with the free clans of elves a marriage is arranged between the Trickster and one of their own. Like all of Solas' plans, it goes awry.

1882 words, mature for smexiness but no actual hanky panky. Read on AO3

Wedding Night

“You still intend to go through with this, then?” Mythal asked.

Fen’Harel sighed, eyeing her reflection from where he stood surrounded by attendants. They made last minute adjustments to his wedding vestiments, buffed his nails, applied cosmetics. “I gave my word, didn’t I?”

“Yes, but even you must admit you have a proclivity for… last minute ‘tricks’. We must make peace with the free clans—”

“Easiest done with a marriage, and I am the only one amongst us who is yet unmarried, yes, I know,” he said, biting his tongue. He knew better than the rest of them how important this was; they continued to underestimated the power of the free clans.

“It’s merely surprising that you haven’t proposed some other crazy solution to avoid being tamed. You’ve been the lone wolf, all alone all these ages…”

He shooed away his attendants and sunk into the nearest chair. His hair dresser immediately made her move, beginning the bothersome process of brushing, curling, and braiding. An annoyance. A necessity. Long hair; the status symbol of a spoiled man who, supposedly, knew nothing of hard work, nor manual labor. No more a threat than a bunch of unaligned clans who could scarcely produce mages.

That is, of course, until he used this marriage to forge an alliance with his spouse’s people. The final key to in his plot to take down the Evanuris once and for all.

“All good things must come to an end,” he said with feigned disinterest. “Remind me the name of who I’m to wed again? That man from the garden with the curly hair?”

Mythal gave him a scathingly admonishing look. “Really, Fen, the least you could do is remember your intended’s name.” She kept up the look for another moment but when he gave no response she simply sighed. “You’re thinking of the ambassador they sent to announce that your bride was chosen by vote of the free clans at Arlathven.”

“She is important to them, then? A powerful mage?” he asked hopefully.

Mythal snorted. “Hardly. They say she has some skill with the arcane, but she’s better known for her sewing— no, embroidery.” He grunted in disappointment and she continued, almost to herself. “She’s no particular beauty, either. I can’t image she’s the best they’ve got to offer. Frankly, I’m tempted to take offense at the offering, but we already granted them permission to choose for themselves…”

He waved his hand dismissively. “It hardly matters what she looks like, so long as they care for her enough to lay down their arms.”

“I suppose. Her name is Keria, by the way, of Lavellan’s clan. Do try to remember it during the ceremony.” He felt her eyes on him, but kept his head bowed as his hair was adorned with golden toggles. “You know that you will have to gift her with her vallaslin during the ceremony as well.”

“Of course.”

Mythal stepped closer and lowered her voice. “A true vallaslin, Fen’Harel.”

The girl working his hair froze. He didn’t have to look at her to know that she, as all his servants, his “slaves”, wore a convincing imitation of his vallaslin on her face. He’d marked each of them with enough magic to keep them safe from the others, but it held none of the controlling or manipulation that a true vallaslin held.

He saw to it that his people followed him voluntarily, not due to fear or power. Many of them were agents of his grand plan playing a role until it was time to strike at the heart of their oppressors.

None of which Mythal was supposed to know, of course.

He met her eyes. “I understand.”

She held his gaze for a long moment, a silent threat, gauging his sincerity. At last, she nodded.

~~~~~

He remembered the name, of course, the ceremony lines, and the spell to apply a proper vallaslin to her pale face in front of everyone. Mythal’s assessment had been harsh — she was pretty enough. Her unruly black hair was short, of course, as was her place. He supposed she would grow it out, now. Her eyes were a shockingly bright blue, when he could get a good look at them, but she largely kept them averted. Her gown was a work of art. The cut of it was common enough, classic, but every inch of it was covered in painstaking embroidery. Her doing?

Not that her beauty mattered; he cared only whether or not she would become his willing ally in their fight, or if he’d have to use her new position as leverage. He’d expected her to fear him as the clans always did — with good reason. He was Mythal’s general, the attack dog she released whenever they stepped out of line or needed to be taught a lesson. At first he thought her unwillingness to meet his eyes was because she was afraid, or worse, because she loathed him. He would not hold it against her.

Surprisingly it was shy glances and flustered smiles he was met with. A blushing bride indeed.

The day was filled with much pomp and posturing, dancing and music and feasting and well-wishers and veiled insults and vague threats. Elgar’nan and the others were jumpy, so certain he was going to ruin this for them that they never considered it had been his idea to begin with. It was many hours before he and his new wife were able to retreat to his suite.

Or ‘their’ suite, he supposed, though he’d happily grant her separate chambers if she requested it. His rooms were plenty large enough for the two of them, but he didn’t relish the loss of this ability to move freely.

He left her for a moment upon entering to get familiar with the space as he stepped into the dressing chamber. He sighed in the relative privacy.

It was fortunate that Keria seemed to be a willing — perhaps eager — partner in this charade, but thus far she seemed too timid of a girl to bring honestly into his machinations. It would take some time to discern best how to proceed from here. In the mean time it was his wedding night…

He was certainly willing to bed her, but he would not press the issue. They needed to discuss rules and freedoms, what would be asked of her and what would not. What she could ask of him. He striped out of his vestiments and pulled on a pair of simple sleep pants. He did not bother with a shirt. He stepped back into the room.

“I think we should discuss our expectations…” He tailed off, not seeing her immediately. He found her in the dimly lit bedchamber, sitting on her heels at the end of the oversized bed, sheets pooling around her hips. She was naked except for the sash from her wedding gown tied loosely about her waist. When she saw him enter she raised to her knees, spread wide, and the blanket fell from her lap, exposing her fully. Her teasing smile beckoned him closer.

Well, then.

All thoughts of planning left him as his blood spiked, and he went to her. He stopped when he stood at the edge of the bed, inches from her, and pointedly looked her offering up and down. He reevaluated his own underestimation of her beauty.

“Lovely…” he murmured. His hand dropped and she arched her back in anticipation, her nipples tight, but it was the tail of the embroidered sash he took. “Did you make it yourself?”

To his surprise he laughed and shoved him playfully, illiciting a snort from him. “I did, in fact.” He ran his thumb over the intricate stitches and she shifted her weight nervously. “Do you, um, know a lot about embroidery?”  

“I don’t know much of the textile arts, I’m afraid,” he admitted, letting the silk slip through his fingers. “Perhaps you could teach me.”

She smiled coquettishly. “Oh, there’s a great deal I could teach you, Fen’Harel.” She sensually unknotted the sash.

He forced his eyes up to hers, determined to seem unaffected. “And here I thought I was wed to someone sweet and innocent.”

“Sweet? Sometimes. But innocent?” Keria flipped the sash up and over his head, where it settled like a scarf. “Certainly not.”

She tugged the ends of the sash and pulled him in for a kiss and he went easily, intrigued by this woman. He felt the brush of her lips but didn’t realize in time that she whispered an incantation, though his eyes flickered open just in time to see the hidden runes among the embroidered flowers light up, paralyzing him instantly. Her hand dashed beneath the covers and came up with a dagger that she plunged towards his chest.

The vallaslin on her face lit up as he activated it and staggered back, spell broken. She was frozen in place, mid-strike. His heart hammered in his chest in a way it hadn’t in decades, a mortal danger he rarely faced unwittingly.

No mortal blade could hurt him, but she would know that. Still shaken, he wrenched the dagger from her hand, careful not to nick either of them as she grunted, struggling to break free. He appraised the weapon, recognizing it easily even without the ravens in the hilt. It indeed would have been able to kill him, and was undoubtedly coated in enough poison to finish the job even if her aim ad been off. Smart.

“Dirthamen sent you, then?”

She still fought her bindings. He released her just enough that she could answer his question. “Yes.”

He tilted his head. She’d answered too quickly. He could see her tells, now that he knew what she really was. “A lie. Interesting. I’m only supposed to believe it was him.”

“You’re supposed to be dead,” snarled his darling wife.

“Ah, a fair point. Me, murdered on my wedding night, and Dirthamen to blame. To what end?” She answered by spitting at him and he paced as he thought it over, able to see how it would have played out — Mythal would exact justice before Elgar’nan could stop her, and Dirthamen’s twin would retaliate. The rest of the evanuris would choose sides. War, distrust, ample opportunity for more little assassinations.

A simple enough plan. One that damn near worked.

He lifted the dagger and it hovered in the air between them. With a twist of his hand he rendered the shining, poisonous thing inert, watching as it turned dull and clattered uselessly to the floor.

Keria looked like she was ready to tear him apart with her teeth instead. “It doesn’t matter what you do with me,” she growled. “Others will succeed where I have failed. You cannot stop us all! Your days are numbered, Dread Wolf — you and every other evil, murderous, slaving evanuris!”

Wordlessly he walked to a wardrobe, feeling her eyes following him as she waited for him to strike her down. How much of her shaking was from anger, he wondered, and how much from fear?

He pulled out a dressing robe and turned back to his bride, every inch of her radiating defiance despite the hold he still had on her.

He tossed her the robe. “Get dressed, vhenan. We need to talk.”

[ace-t-fic]

Riverside Gryff’s

Phone fanifc be warned no grammar (I made the greaser au + plus any complaints about lily’s writing are based heavily off she was written I just added more on having a sister like petunia to it.)

The ear-piercing sound of glass shattering dulled in comparison to the loud chatter and Music, and that filled the room. But the workers heard it with a heavy sigh as one marked down another tally mark. That's the fifth one; it's only three days into the week. These kids brought in good business but Minerva thinks they’ll run her dry with all the replacements she has to order.

“I’m headed out!” Diana rushed tapping Severus on the shoulder. He only bid her half-assed goodbye before he finished tying up his apron. She was an elderly woman that handled the hard coffee crowd in the morning. By the time Severus clocked in half of the morning/afternoon crowd was beginning to rush out. They were replaced by the younger staff who could handle their own crowd— teenagers.

If there's one thing besides the teenagers, they hated about this place; it was working the floor. Sure the girls loved it and reveled in being next to the many teen sleazeballs that frequented it, but Severus did not. Weasley also downright hated it; the Spinner's End kids had no qualms about throwing him the harshest of nicknames. ‘Fire Crotch’ was a favorite of Severus'.

But Severus hated working the floor whenever any of the jocks down from the riverside visited. Especially when A bunch of spoiled jocks who thought they were thugs came in. Riverside Gryff’s etched across their backs on black leather. All they did was change from their letterman jackets on the way over. They never did anything but bully and abuse lesser people than them. On the other hand, Severus knew true thugs that would stab you in the gut for anything.

"Whatcha thinking in that pretty little head there?"

"All the self-defense moves my mother taught me to ward off men like you." He stated boardely before grabbing at his notepad "What will it be, Potter."

"The in-between Sundae."

"The hell is that? Severus said before reaching under the counter to grab a hold of one of the menus. "We don't have that here."

"Sure you do" James started, a sultry smile gracing his lips as he leant halfway over the counter."Just give me a bottle of whipped cream and spread ya legs-"

"You never know when to shut up, give up and move on," Severus hissed. Briefly eyeing the patron over giving them disapproving looks.

"Of course I don't. I've seen you in my leather jacket."He smirked, leaning closer on the bar." and out of it."

"Excuse me!" Snipped a customer causing Severus to jump-start and remember he's at work, hitting customers is not in the business model.

God, he really hated life sometimes, more so when he took into account that lily was probably the worst friend he's ever picked up. Realistically she roped him into more trouble than his short run with Lucius. She was his best friend but they all were too fucked in their childhoods in too many ways.

They met in church, and he lived on to see her try as hard as possible to shake the notion that she was square. She wanted to rock and sing blues in midnight clubs. Ask Severus, and he'd tell you he had always thought she was jealous of his sister in that way. Petunia, as much as a devil, still managed to garner her family's love while she was sneaking out from the back porch with a cigarette in her pocket and Vernon waiting in a cab a couple of blocks down. At one point she had roped Lily into being her secret keeper.

Lily always folded under pressure and being a square for the rest of her life crisped the edges. So much so that she got involved with the crowds at the riverside. Severus would've never seen it coming with their separate schools and incomes between them. That was until he started shadowing her in town and movie theaters. They went to a dollar movie that day. Abbott and Costello and Severus stood there awkwardly with three other girls who called em'selves goldies. They got into their seats, and it was fine but it seemed like they were making a fuss over nothing and throwing popcorn around. They kept glancing to the side of them and that was when he had noticed a group of three dudes sitting a couple of seats down and to the side.

It got to the point where it was irking Severus just enough for him to take a glance at what exactly put the girls in a frenzy. Got his answer as an equally irked Potter rolled his head up to glance in their direction. He had remembered him of course, preacher's son and an asshole that spent Sunday school telling Severus that since he was a bastard he'd be going to hell. Now he's a thug that keeps staring even as Severus turns his head coming to terms with not getting to watch the movie.

Even when it had finished and Severus retreated to the bathroom to wash his hands an amused James slid past him with a mumbled apology. It got even worse from there when he got his slug from a neighbor who passed and was the designated driver. Finally, it ended with a bonfire on the lake. Lily had gotten ahead of herself in strip poker and Severus was there with his shirt to save her when she went prancing along the lake. The night ended with both of them soaked and a little worse for wear.

Once the hysteria passed and lights in the lodge filled with the teens, Severus had sat on the pier miserable. James plopped beside him and his jacket heavy on his shoulder now that he was shirtless. The whole thing was weird, the atmosphere changing and stretching uncomfortably whenever they were in the same Vicinity together. Didn't stop Severus from leading him back to his car, though. When Lily had found them a few drunken words and curses later Severus had tried his hardest to drag her home. A moment later they were both found in a tree.

Severus is a little irritated to wake up and find the preacher looming over his hospital bed in prayer with his mother. A letterman jacket sitting on the seat beside him.

"How's Lilly darling," Trelawney asked, fumbling with the register.

"She's good, doing much better in the silent towns. Reckons she'll visit for the summer."

"Oh, sweet girl. Shame that DUI, these gangs they got themselves into, gold ladies and whatnot. In my day I would've been dealt with, with! a wooden spoon. "She chattered grabbing a few bills before jampacking the drawer closed." You be careful with these lot, charming boys aren't passaged to paradise." Before making her way back to the table she was servicing.

"Full of shit, that one." He heard a voice mumble near him. "Untouched and a nail-biter." Severus’s hands clenched to hide his nails before glaring at the curly-haired boy.

"Oh come on, I'm not talking about you."

"Then why make observations pertaining to me." Severus seethed, abruptly reopening the register. "Well, it's adorable when you do it-"

"Piss off," He said before going back down the bar.

His night only got worse as 4 more glasses were broken and a fight broke out. A drink knocked over and a wet shirt later with stains on his jeans had him reeling for a day off. And when clean up was said and done Minerva locked up the gates and he saw Arthur off on the bus he waited under his spotlight.

"Your shirt is a little wet there, need a change?"

[firstknightss]

GWAINCELOT ESSAY THREE???

[commentary voice] ah yes and this gwaincelot essay.... which turned into a fic was inspired by @nextstopparis and @little-ligi

GWAINE TEACHING LANCELOT HOW TO READ. and thats how they actually CONFESS.

imagine gwaine seeing lancelot trip up reading leon’s plan for the day, seeing him trying to understand it. and gwaines, hes a little in love. Hes. Hes a little hit with feelings for this Noble (tm) knight. So OF COURSE he CANT EMOTION and he tries to show his affection for lancelot without yknow being in ‘loVE’

he comes over with his swishy hair and bantery tone like “oooOhHh LANCELOT! Lancey! Hey! Hello! Can’t read leon’s goddamn awful handwriting huh?”

And Lancelots embarrassed and flushes red and gwaine thinks hes Fucked Up (and he really doesn’t want to fuck this up, this is the first time he’s actually felt emotions this deep for someone) and tries to fix it panickedly, like the Anxiety Clown He Is.

He keeps on saying sorry and apologising, and Lancelot, the EVER CALM KNIGHT GUY, goes “it’s fine, it’s okay. It’s nothing to do with you...” and then he hesitates. He HESITATES. “....it’s just that...” and then he BITES HIS LIP and gwaine thinks he might just faint there and then, “...i cant read.”

and now it hits him, gwaine, gwaine, who thought literacy was something trash and something he didn’t really need, realises how important it is. and so, yknow because hes kind of wrapped in those Emotions (tm), he pulls lancelot’s sleeve after practice, when they’re alone in the changing room. (and if lancelot wasn’t so tired and miserable, he would have easily seen gwaine BLUSH)

And he, shyly asks if lancelot wouldnt mind being tutored by him.

Now Lancelot is OVERJOYED, and he’s borderline CRYING because lancelot, poor old village boy lancelot who’d been kicked out of the knights of camelot, and had to become a MERCENARY and fight for masters who didn’t care for him, has NEVER HAD someone literally CARE about him so much. (Apart from Merlin. He loves merlin <3)

so now imagine lancelot waking up an hour early the next morning, and showing up into gwaine’s room. He knows gwaine literally doesnt sleep with a lock, so he just barges in, and starts shaking gwaine.

Now GWAINE sleeps like a Log (had so much shit going on irl, time to sleep it away) and when he opens his bleary eyes, seeing lancelot in one of his stupid v neck shirts over him, hes like “....h...helo??”

and lancelot’s all like. “We- werent YOU gonna give me reading lessons.” And gwaine nods, yawning (and in that moment lancelot thinks gwaine looks unimaginably cute, so cute that he wants to literally ruffle gwaine’s hair and run his hands through how silky and brown it is.)

THEN gwaine pulls on the dont care-ish mask, and makes his arms into a pillow under his head, as he leans against the wall behind his bed, in some kind of somewhat???flirty??? manner??? [i dont...i dont know what hes trying to do. On the other hand! Not does Lancelot :) ]

Lancelot, does not realise this is gwaine’s poor attempt at flirting - since he’s seen gwaine ACTUALLY flirting and this is like. Nothing. And its also poorly executed. Which is NOTHING like gwaine.

So he pulls gwaine’s arm, and half hauls him out of bed.

As gwaine’s head crashes into lancelot’s stomach, he can smell lancelot’s clothes. They smell of flowers, and cotton and everything so natural and gwaine, who literally smells of wine, and wood and Tavern. (And aftershave, or the 500AD equivalent)

[see here, see im trying to bring themes of dionysis okay. OkayyyyyyyyY. yours truly likes looking at greek mythology. And both these two complete dionysis]

Gwaine, in his sleepy stupor, nestles his head on Lancelot’s hip, who gives a sigh and stands there. One hand clutching gwaine’s, leaving the other free.....

....to rake through his soft, flowy brown hair. And twirl his fingers through its waves, and Gwaine cuddles in further.

And since Lancelot left the door open, Leon (the other bitch who wakes up at 4am to do idk nothing) sees them two...like that, illuminated by the SUNLIGHT behind them, and smiles a little.

And then he trips over the stairs, the moment is lost.

Gwaine and Lancelot pull away at the same time, and gwaine’s face turns back to “ha ha im a Jerk (tm)” and if he wasnt too busy trying to hide how flustered he was, he’d see Lancelot looking at him the way he used to look at GWEN.

They both blink and look at each other, understandingly, neither of them to speak of this again.

And then Gwaine drags himself out of bed, and Lancelot raises his eyebrows as he watches him (totally not checking him out) haul out a book from his cupboard.

Gwaine’s too sleepy for this, he keeps yawning and rubbing his eyes (looking like a cat, Lancelot notes) and Lancelot takes a deep breath, his eyes understanding.

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“Lancelot, I love..” he bites his tongue, cursing his half asleep mind “..doing this, and love hanging out with you...I just cant stay up this early.”

Reading lessons, from now on, are at 1:30am-whenever Gwaine and Lancelot stop rambling about Odysseus and Circe and Telemachus

[i dont know any other ancient books apart from like. Ancient greek/Roman ones. So i guess. Its not historically accurate,,,,BUUIT this is a fanfic for a pair who had like no scenes together SO i think i can take some ✨creative liberties✨]

Lancelot has heard of the journey of Aneas from travelling bards, singing songs in his native old english. Gwaine’s eyes are quick at latin, and he learnt the flaws of Romulus and Remus in his pure latin. Gwaine’s a good teacher, and lancelot is a quick study, and it’s not long before they’re arguing over which Goddess caused the most harm in the Illiad.

Gwaine’s never met someone who he could reveal that he loved reading to, he loved doing.

Lancelot’s never met someone who he could tell he couldn’t read, and ask if they could teach him, love learning.

They make it work.

The other knights notice, of course they notice. Percival notices how Lancelot stumbles into the Gwaine’s room at night, bright eyed. Elyan notices Lancelot and Gwaine’s voices from Gwaine’s room opposite him; sometimes slow, Gwaine speaking slowly and Lancelot following; sometimes heated and passionate.

(They’re arguing. They’re arguing about how to pronounce Minerva)

Merlin finds the two, in the early hours of the morning - when the birds are figuring what song they sing today - on Gwaine’s bed.

Gwaine leaned against the bedframe, his trousered legs splayed over the sheets. Loosely braided, long brown hair fell over his closed eyelids, his mouth in a small smile.

And Merlin follows his arm draped over Lancelot, snuggled beside him, his head on his broad shoulder, every breath of wind pushing against curly black hair, making it almost /bounce/. His eyes are covered by the other man’s hair, and he looks...content. More content than Merlin has ever seen him.

He slips out as quietly as he came in, and smirks, hes gotta tell arthur they finally got their shit together oh GOD

Its no surprise to anyone but them, when Arthur pulls Lancelot out of training, and into his chambers.

“I’m glad you’ve found someone Lancelot.” He starts, his face geniune, his voice giving away hints of relief. (He thought he was never going to see his knight smile again after all the ordeals that had happened to him)

“Oh...” Lancelot’s heart sinks, “...how did you find out, Sire?”

Arthur blinks, taking in the change of mood in Lancelot, maybe it wasn’t anything important, maybe they were trying to keep it casual, hell they didnt want the king knowing.

“I- uh, I just noticed...” Goddamnit Merlin, and Goddamn his need to tell him everything he saw. (Merlin had advised him not to do this, as they sat on his bed after a long night. This was really his fault.)

Lancelot pales, and he places his hands down on the table beside him, palms slapping stone as he did so.

“Well, I guess I should tell you the whole truth then,” his voice is quiet, and Arthur steps closer, “Sire I am not of Noble birth, and was born in a village - as you know.”

Arthur nods, his arms crossed, but his Kingly Bravado fell away at the sight of his knight, and one of his closest friends, being this vulnerable.

“Yes I know, but what does this ha-“

“And we children in the village we-“ he falters, “-we were never taught to read.”

“Yes, no I understand, I-“ he pauses, Lancelot’s words hitting him a bit too late, this was about literacy?

This, this whole conversation was about literacy?

Not being gay?

Merlin was going to have a field day

“Sire?”

“I understand Lancelot, and is this why you feel a little out of place with the other knights?” He carries it on, with a smile, he has a few questions to ask merlin.

“Yes, and that’s why I asked Gwaine to tutor me from time to time, although, the sessions carry through late into the night, which may have been affecting my performance at practice. I’ll have you know that this is a temporary th-“

“It’s fine Lancelot,” Arthur places a hand on his shoulder, “You are still exceptional at practice,”

“Thank you Sire,” Lancelot twinkles.

✨

“Theyre, theyre not together?” Merlin cant stop laughing, tears streaming down his face, “theyre not TOGETHER?? oh my God arthur what did you DO”

They sit together on Arthur’s bed, drinking wine from stemless cups together, with Arthur recounting the events of the day; red faced.

“I mean, it was your idea Merlin.”

“I just saw them, and I assumed...I didnt...I didnt think youd ASK them.”

“What do you think I’d do then?? Let them be on their merry way.”

“Yes!”

✨

“Do you like me?” Gwaine asks, unexpectedly, one night, the moon vibrant against the loud sea.

“You’re...tolerable...” Lancelot says, a smile tugging at his lips, as the silver moonlight falls against his hair, a halo around him.

✨

The knights give them the look every morning, as the two of them stumbled out of the same room, more frequently than ever.

Sometimes Lancelot would throw on Gwaine’s shirt, when he’d crumpled his own beyond repair. Sometimes Gwaine would put some of Lancelot’s hair oil on, when his hair was frizzy.

They gave each other knowing looks when Gwaine and Lancelot started whispering and giggling like a bunch of schoolgirls.

✨

And then Stupid gwaine had to go get fucking stabbed, and their delicate dance was like trying to waltz through a minefield.

Lancelot clutches onto Gwaine’s arm as Merlin feels his forehead with shaking hands.

“He’s burning up.”

“Infection...?” Lancelot sounds broken, and nods, fumbling with his pack to find some bandages.

It was just a simple quest; a save the day, get the girl, do various harmless shenanigans type of quest.

He’d half expected Gwaine to get the girl, and he cant help but give out a half choked laugh. Gwaine had no idea what hit him when she turned out to be the evil one all along.

He tries to forget that Gwaine showed no interest in her, he tries to forget that Gwaine’s been less frequent at the Tavern, he tries to forget that he hasn’t seen Gwaine with anyone since months now.

Gwaine, his beautiful Gwaine was lying on his lap, hot red blood rushing from his side, staining his polished chainmail with dark, sticky blood.

He’s been out for nearly an hour now, and Lancelot remembers carrying him, through the entire forest, forgetting his sword and his helmet and just grabbing Gwaine and getting the shit out of there.

Gwaine’s lack of self preservation was really rubbing off on Lancelot nowadays.

Merlin watches as Lancelot holds back tears, his own eyes stinging. Gwaine can’t die like this, he can’t die like this....

“hælan beorn adl”

Merlin’s eyes flashed gold, and Lancelot could feel warmth coming back into the fingers he was grabbing.

He was coming back.

And then the weight of everything hits him.

He was in Fucking Love.

✨

“Hey.” Gwaine’s voice is rough from disuse, but Lancelot nearly sobs when he hears the voice.

“Don’t fucking do that to me again, amor meus.” He puts his head down on Gwaine’s chest; finding the hammering of his heart calming.

He shimmies onto Merlin’s bed, which Gwaine had been lying in for the past few days.

“Did you mean, ami meus?” Gwaine sounds tired, too tired to be awake.

“Huh? Did i say something else?” Lancelot decides to play dumb, a sparkle in his eyes,

“I thought I heard amor meus,” Gwaine pushes his nose into Lancelot’s hair, taking in the wonderful smell of coconut.

“Well then, at least your hearing’s okay, amor meus.”

Gwaine gulped, and was sure Lancelot could hear his loud swallow.

“Lancelot, I hope this isnt a big joke with me teachin you latin and all,” Gwaine’s voice is a little wobbly from the slee deprivation and the magic and the pain numbers, “because I’ll have you know that I really love you, and I cant go on like this any longer,”

“Its okay Gwaine, I learnt latin from the man I love, of course it’s not a joke.”

“The man you love? Who’s tha-“

Realisation hits him like a brick.

Oh.

Oh.

“Me?” His voice cracks, and Lancelot looks up, a smirk on his face.

“Of course dumbass.”

“Like I’m meant to know that,” Gwaine tries to keep his dont care-ish aura, but they both know he’s too exhausted to keep that up.

“mmm?”

Gwaine kisses him on the nose, and he wraps himself around him.

And thats how Merlin finds them later that day, eyes blinking as he stood there.

✨

“I’m glad you’ve found someone, Lancelot.” Arthur coughs.

“Is that what that whole talk was about???”

“Answer the question.” His words sound harsh, but he’s barely hiding a smile.

“I’m glad too, I’m Glad I found Gwaine too.” Lancelot blushes, turning to gwaine.

“Why are you asking anyway, Princess?”

“Oh just, making sure this time.”

[sunshinespear]

paradise found

oneshot (might become a part of a series??)

pairing: established reader x ellaria sand

rating: explicit

word count: 2,177

summary: you and ellaria sand find yourselves in a sept. however, rather than worshipping the gods somehow you find yourself on your knees worshipping something much better

warnings: uhhhh god okay so public sex sort of, public nudity, religion kink? it’s in a sept, slight overstimulation, an*l play (it’s mild), fingering, oral (fem receiving, fem giving), softness, fluff, teasing, begging, you’re topping in this one, shamelessly loud sex, woo yall aint even trying to hide it, let me know if i missed anything

a/n: this really does just jump straight into the action lmao. i might do a sequel to this. i really want to write a larger story that’s reader x oberyn x ellaria with a very equal poly dynamic between the three (my bi heart cant pick a favorite). if this is like... good/popular-ish maybe i’ll look deeper into doing that lol this is me dipping my toe in the water. that fic would obviously be explicit throughout. like. c’mon. but so yeah let me know if that’s something anyone would be interested in.

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

           Seven marble statues stared down upon the center of a magnificent open room. They stood exalted atop stone platforms laced with lapis lazuli and mother of pearl, unlit candles scattered at the feet of six of the tall figures. Vaulted ceilings were covered in clear glass panes, bleeding brilliant sunshine into the sept. Covering almost every inch of the walls were colorfully painted glass windows in gold-plated lead panes, depicting scenes of the Seven in their glory. A peaceful stillness was contained within the empty sept. You were sprawled on the floor behind the statue of the Father, out of his watchful eye but barely hidden from the massive double doors at the entrance of the empty sept.

           It was not unusual for the septs in Dorne to be empty at most times of day. The Faith was present here, but not many were strongly devout in their following. A long time ago, if anyone had asked if you were the religious sort you might have laughed at them. Sure, you knew what you were taught about the Seven Gods, the Seven-pointed Star, the Seven whatevers. You’ve prayed a few times. Seven Heavens, Seven Hells. But over time it was all drowned away. Do you think you’re going to a heaven? Any of them? You don’t think anyone could ever be certain of where they were going. What you do know is this: heaven can also be a person. It could even be two. And to be alone with them, that can be like salvation. Right now, it’s only two of you alone in this holy place. You’re sprawled on the marble floor, still mostly clothed, fervently worshipping a naked goddess laying under you.

          There is a special paradise to be found with your head between her thighs

           You lick one long stripe over the entirety of Ellaria’s cunt, parting her wet folds with your tongue. She tastes like kiwis and cherries; fruit that’s sweet with zest, just like she is. You flick your tongue over the top of her clit. She shivers at your touch, makes a sharp gasp, and you’re exactly where she wants you. Now you burn to hear her plead for it.

           You circle around her clit with your tongue. Teasing against her edges, you barely brush against her – almost at that spot, so close – over and over. She struggles faintly, trying to push her hips down against your evasive mouth. She wants you to touch her there so much. You grip her waist to hold her still. You move downwards instead and lap up more of her along the way. When you reach the center of her cunt you find her so incredibly wet. Even her thighs are smeared with her slickness. Her folds are slippery under your tongue as you take long drinks of the sweetness she’s pouring out for you. You revel in the taste, moaning into her cunt as you drown in it.

           Ellaria groans then, mumbling something softly under the gravel that you can’t quite hear.

           “Hm?” You hum, intentionally obtuse. You give her another long stroke with your tongue.

           “Please,” she exhales, shaking in a lust-drunk daze. You smirk like you’ve won. She always told you that you and Oberyn were too similar in that way.

           You know what she’s begging for, but where’s the fun in giving it to her so immediately? She wants your tongue flicking her clit, so you push two fingers inside of her soaked cunt instead.

           Ellaria cries out and bucks her hips, trying to take in all you have to give her. You watch as she shuts her eyes, mouth agape in pleasure, and she is like all seven of the heavens. She is dripped in gold, brown skin glittering in the sunlight like the goddess she is. Her dark, coiled hair is splayed out all around her, a halo for her most heavenly body. You ease your fingers in and out of her slowly at first, watching her face the entire time. Gods, that face. What a beautiful face to have underneath you as it climbs to the height of pleasure. You could see those same perfectly plush lips part and gasp a thousand times and it will always strike you straight to the core. You fuck her faster and she moans louder, echoing throughout the sept. Her eyes are tightly shut but if she would ever open them, you would be met with the most beautiful charcoal gaze you’d ever seen. Each and every time Ellaria looked at you was a spell being cast and it plucked the strings of your heart like a harp, playing exactly to her tune. It was as musical as the salacious moans she was making now with each curl of your fingers against that good spot inside her.

           You suck on the thumb of your other hand, coating it thickly with saliva, and sink it inside Ellaria’s other entrance.

           Her eyes pop open as she groans. She takes gasping breaths as you work on her, eyes wide open now. Ellaria looks at you and she can’t help but let out a breathy laugh at the mischief in your glittering eyes.

           “Ugh, you-mmm… I-” She grasped for words like her hands grasping her hair. “You know exact-t-ah… exactly what you’re doing- hmph. Fuck.”

           It’s you laughing now, reveling in how difficult you’re making this for her. Her gaze catches yours and in her eyes you find the sweetest, most frustrated adoration. You stay with your eyes locked with Ellaria’s while you fuck her from both places. Your fingers and thumb drag in and out, curling them exactly where she needs it, going at just the pace she likes it. Ellaria’s eyelids are heavy now, opening slower with each moan you drag out of her until she’s so swept away by pleasure that they close entirely. Beads of sweat dot her concentrated brow, dripping down her temple into those curly dark locks. You thrust your fingers into her once, twice, three more times before she makes a sound like a sob. Ellaria reaches out for you, hands aimlessly searching for something to grip. She settles on her own thighs, holding them more open for you. Her chest rises laboriously with each breath. There is a burning desire in your chest to see her come undone. You wonder how much more teasing she could take, or you for matter, when her eyes flutter open and find yours once more.

           There it was. That pinning stare she had mastered on you. Ellaria held you captive with every bat of her eyelash. To see that look in her eyes, weighed down by ecstasy and foggy in lust, was the most divine feeling you’d ever known. It was entirely enthralling.

           “Love, please.” Her voice cracks as she begs, barely above a whisper, her body writhing against you. “Please, please, please, my love.”

           Of course you’ll do as she commands.

           You keep thrusting your two fingers into her with your one hand. In your other, her ass sits in your palm with your thumb still circling inside of her. You lean your head down and give her exactly what she needs, and exactly where she needs it.

           First, you lick her clit softly. The kind of noise she lets out at that contact.... It is the most intoxicating sound. Her hands knot themselves into your hair in an instant, her nails desperately scraping your scalp. She pulls you closer, as close as she can possibly have you.

           You press your tongue against her sweetest spot, circling her over and over. She was so close, you could tell. Just a little bit more. You close your lips around her clit, enveloping it in the warm wetness of your mouth. With your lips you suckle on her, kiss her, poke your tongue out and use it to caress. You use your entire mouth to fuck her good. You take your tongue out and flick it against her, fast and feather-light. One thrust of your fingers deep inside of her again, working in tandem with the rapid movement from your tongue, and you feel her orgasm tightening around your fingers.

           Ellaria’s body spasms as she comes hard. Her entire body shakes with the weight of it. Her legs wrap around your back, her walls – from every place your in – squeeze your fingers tightly, her hands pull you by your hair to drag you closer, her hips grind against your mouth.

           “Don’t stop. Don’t stop.”

           Of course you obey. Your tongue continues fervently flicking against her clit, all the way through her high, until the violent tremors dissipate into soft shivers and her fingers are a little less tight in your hair. She tries to catch her breath desperately as if she’d just been drowning. You pull back your head slightly. She’s so sensitive now, squirming under you even though you’re barely touching her.

           You can’t ever leave well enough alone. Not when she looks so damn good like this. You pull your hands out of her body. She lets you, weakly melting into the floor without your support. You clutch her thighs and push her legs open a little further. You put your head back down there again, sore tongue aching to give her more. She catches on to your antics far too late. You’re already sliding your tongue around her when she starts pulling your hair back and squirming her hips away. You clutch her thighs tighter, holding her steady as the overstimulation transitions back to ecstasy. She can’t stop shaking, but the way she presses deeper into your tongue tells you she’s ready for it now. You work her back up again with your hot tongue. You give her this one quickly, not fucking around this time.

           As the second wave of pleasure sweeps through Ellaria, her mouth hangs open with a mute cry, unable to summon the strength to croak out even a single moan. She comes with eyes closed tight, mouth wide open, her shaky breathing the only noise she can make as tremors overtake her. You lick and roll your tongue all over her cunt as she melts into you. She gets so damn wet when she comes, and you are determined to drink all of her. You don’t want to waste a single drop, tasting everything she has to give.

           She lets out a moan, soft as lamb’s wool. It fades into a breathy laugh as she pushes your head and desperate tongue away from her numb body. She cups your jaw and tries to pull you up to kiss her, but you find detours along the way. First you must stop to kiss along her hip bone. You leave wet kisses on the sharp contours of her body here. Then you move up her stomach. You gently press your lips to the beautiful stretch marks earned from the daughters she’s born. Continuing up, you graze your teeth over her ribs. At her nipple, you dart out your tongue and lick. She shivers at that and makes a soft grunt, so you stay there and lick some more. Now you have to give the same treatment to the other. When you move past her breasts, you kiss up to her collarbone and leave a mark there.

           The kisses continue softly up her neck until finally, your face meets Ellaria’s. It is the most beautiful face and you’ve just made it come entirely undone for you. You take your hands to cup her cheeks before you kiss her on her sweat-dampened hairline and along the smoothness of her forehead. Ellaria shuts her eyes in bliss. You take the opportunity to kiss each of her delicate eyelids softly. The ghost of your lips trail down the bridge of her nose, to the tip, and over her cheeks that cradle a perfectly contented grin.

           You pull back, staring down at her most peaceful state. A powerful ache strikes you right where your soul rests. You love her. You know you do. As she opens her eyes and meets your gaze, you know you would die for her. You know that there was no life to live without her.

           Ellaria smiles softly at you lost in your reverence. She wraps her hand around your neck and pulls you down to kiss her. You meet her lips and kiss her like how a man lost in the desert drinks water. Fervently, longingly, never getting enough. You could kiss her for an eternity and it would never be enough. She giggles against your mouth and you take her smile in with the same enthusiasm, kissing wherever your lips land with devotion, even if you end up kissing her teeth.

         She pulls you back by your hair at the same time she moves her thigh between yours, pushing against your core. You let out a tiny noise of surprise, mouth popping open and she takes the opportunity to put two fingers in there. You close your lips around them immediately, tracing your tongue over her fingertips. It’s impossible to resist grinding against her thigh, rubbing your wet core against her warm skin. Ellaria’s eyes are low and sparkling, her smile turned devious.

        “Hmm. Your turn.”

[forevercaroline]

French court

I was going to have these characters be a side plot in the fic Forbes but as I was writing I decided to make a whole new story with these characters. Also I was talking with @iamcarito and she mentioned that Lexi would be like Megan Markle and the ideas just started flowing from there. I wrote this yesterday. I had mentioned to @austennerdita2533 and @karinanic that I was going to have a Lexi and prince romance. Also tagging @delenastvd.

Xxx

Henri peppers Lexi neck with kisses as her arms go around his neck and she rides him. The white sheet falling off her pooling on his thighs. He thrusts up one last time and her screams of ecstasy full the big bedroom, he soon follows. She slumps down on his bare chest and leaves a sweet peck on his neck.

“It’s moving day. My prince.”

“Did you ever think you would be here?”

Lexi snuggles her head into his neck and he wraps his arms around her slim waist. “Here meaning naked in bed with the prince of France no, moving into the French palace no, or being engaged to the sexy prince of France no.”

“Engaged to the sexy prince, did I only become sexy after we got engaged.” Lexi can feel him laugh laying on him.

“Sexy the moment I saw you.” She leans up and leaves a kiss on his lips he smiles into the kiss.

The double doors for their suite open and it’s Henri’ mother the queen mother Catherine de’ Medici who like her son has blonde hair that she usually pins up. “Oh good your up and decent this morning.”

The blonde lovebirds share a look this a frequent occurrence. A few times they have been in the middle of sex when she barges in. The doors do not have a lock but guards posted outside the door but the queen mother is allowed in any room and especially her children’s quarter’s being their mother. Doesn’t matter how old or if one son is the king she will barge into their quarters morning day or night.

“What do you want mother?” As Henri has one arm on Lexi hiding her nudity behind him and pulling the blankets up to cover them.

“Charles found out about your engagement and is not pleased. He demands to see you in the throne room.”

Lexi bites her lip she has never been in the throne room, There are a lot of rooms in this palace she has not been in. Mostly she just stays in Henri’s suite, she has walked through the great hall, the ball room, and seen Henri’s older sister Claude’s room but that was only because her and Claude were going out together and Claude did not like her outfit so she dragged Lexi to her room and throw a short black dress at her and told her to change while she looked for a pair of heels.

Before Catherine leaves she tells her blanket covered naked son. “Henri please do not irritate your brother.”

Henri cracks a little smile and glances down at equally naked Lexi. “I Promise mother.”

Xxx

Before they enter the throne room Henri holds out his hand and smiles down at Lexi assuringly she smiles up at him while she places her purple tipped nails in his outstretched hand his thumb runs over her princess cut engagement ring there are three rows on each side all diamonds the two outer rows are white diamond and the middle row is yellow diamonds. Leading up the big raised yellow diamond in the middle. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

They enter to find Charles having a meeting with his spies and generals. Out of the corner of his eye he spots them. “Everyone out I need to have a word with my brother. If you see Nicole send her in too.”

Charles is shorter then his brother Henri but not by much. Where as Henri is tall blonde and has scruff and looks sexy, Charles is shorter, shaggy brunette hair and is clean shaven. Henri has a more gentle looking face he is fun loving where as Charles has a little bit of an evil face meaning that if something goes wrong people look to see if Charles did it because his face does not look innocent, he is a good king it’s just his face makes Lexi uncomfortable. Although that might have been done by their one and only encounter a year ago. The big difference between Henri and Charles is the crown upon Charles head.

“I am told you proposed to this woman last night.” He gestures to Lexi who scoffs at him.

Henri squeezes her hand to give her strength and to silently tell her he has this.“Yes I proposed to Lexi last night and she accepted we are going to move her into my suite later today.”

He doesn’t even look up from the map on the table to tell them. “I did not approve a proposal there for you two are not engaged nor did I approve of her moving into the palace.”

Lexi mouth drops open she is speechless this is not happening.

“Charles, Lexi and I love each other and want to get married.”

“You want to marry a commoner?”

Henri rolls his eyes the promise he made to his mother running through his head. He takes a breath and Lexi squeezes his hand to give him the strength he gave her earlier in this conversation. “Yes. I do not care if Lexi’s parents own a boutique in Paris or she is a heiress. We’ve been together for a year and a half but we knew the moment we saw each other that we had been looking for each other and we finally found each other.”

Charles looks up at the blonde couple and a small smile spreads across his face and he sticks his hand out. “Nicole.”

“My love.” Nicole is Charles fiancé, she has long brunette hair and brown eyes in heels she is the same height as Charles.

Nicole looks at the blonde couple first at Henri with love in her eyes then at Lexi with daggers in her eyes. Charles looks back at the blonde couple. “Your dismissed.”

Both blondes are pissed they were engaged this morning and just because Charles the king didn’t give his approval they not only can not get engaged but she can not move in with Henri. They get to the doorway when Henri turns around a wicked smirk on his face. “Brother why not this afternoon we play a game of tennis.”

Charles looks at his brother even though there is space between them they are looking each other dead in the eye. “What game are you playing brother?”

“ You’ll just have to accept and see.”

The older of the two looks back at the table full of maps and papers then at his blonde taller brother. “I accept.”

Xxx

“I love you Henri and I want to marry you but I do not see this ending well.”

Henri lifts the passengers side of his black Bugatti eb 110 he leans in and tells her. “Trust me.” He leaves a kiss right below her ear.

Once he is in the drivers seat she looks over at him as he puts the luxury sports car into drive. “I trust you.”

With one hand on the steering wheel he entwines his other hand with one of hers and kisses the back of her hand. “We will be married even if we have to disobey the king of France.”

Lexi loves Henri not just with her whole heart but she feels it in her bones this is the man for her. The way his smile can not only make her smile but make her feel like everything is going to be ok. From their first meeting they have had this connection. Henri was walking down the streets in Paris and walked past her mothers boutique and saw Lexi in the window fixing a mannequin. He was totally enamored by her beauty he almost walked into a guy walking towards him. Henri came into the boutique to find out what her name was and that night they had their first date and they’ve have been together ever since.

They pull onto the street where her apartment is and Lexi looks around. “Charles said I couldn’t move in and all my stuff would not would not fit in this car.”

He pulls into the parking lot of the apartment building. As he shuts off the car he tells her with a smirk on his face. “Well what Charles doesn’t know won’t kill him. And if it does your looking at the new king who wants to live with you.”

Lexi comes around to his side of the car and leans up and pecks him on the lips. “How did I become so lucky to fall in love with such a sexy, clever, ambitious and lovely man.”

He shrugs as he smiles down at her. “I have no clue but I fell in love with someone who is insanely beautiful, just as ambitious and clever as I am.”

“Well don’t we make a good match.”

“I think so.”

Xxx

They put all her stuff in the moving van that Henri had ready outside. They return to the palace and Henri orders the guards to discreetly put her stuff in his suite.

When they go out to the tennis court in the back of the palace they see Charles, Nicole and Claude. Lexi kisses Henri for good luck. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Lexi takes a seat next to Claude, Nicole is glaring daggers at her, Lexi is ignoring her. Both brothers pick up a racket before they start Claude stands up and goes over to the net. “Shake hands.”

Claude is older then both of them so they come to the net, Claude like her brother Charles has brunette hair that she usually wears up and curly. “Any wager between you two?”

“Now that you mention it sister yes. If I win I would love to marry Lexi but I know you will not grant that so If I win I want the king to accept that Lexi is going to move in with me.”

Charles glares at his brother and Claude looks at him. “Charles?”

“If I win Henri gives up this dream of marrying Lexi and gets serious.”

Henri and Claude share a look why is Charles so against this marriage he is getting married himself and his fiancé Nicole he met in a barn one of the times he ran away from court because it was to much pressure. Plus before he became king he was a party boy in Spain. He came back to France to be taught how to be a king by their older brother Francis before his death.

“Deal.” Both brothers shake and Claude goes back to her seat. “Go.”

She leans over and tells Lexi “Someone needs to keep the peace of this game might as well be me.”

“Aka Leith was busy and you were bored.”

Claude glances over at her and smirks “I hope Henri wins just so we could have a chance to be sisters. And I don’t say that to everyone.” She lowers her voice and leans in closer even covers the side of her mouth. “I didn’t tell Nicole we could be sisters and they are getting married.”

Lexi leans in to Claude. “Thank you for the compliment I hope we get the chance to be sisters too and that Henri wins. Also have you been clubbing behind my back with Nicole?”

Claude lets out a little laugh “Never your the only woman in this palace that enjoys sex and clubs as much as I do.”

They turn back to the tennis match and Henri scores a point Lexi cheers and Charles side eyes her she stops. Charles scores and Nicole smiles and claps her hands. After a couple more rounds the game is tied 5-5. Henri serves the ball and Charles almost misses it but hits it in the last second, Henri nearly missed the ball but hits it.

Claude is getting bored watching them play tennis. “Ok next point wins.”

“Don’t worry Henri you’ll find another woman you never had a problem finding one.”

“How does Nicole stand you at least my fiancé loves me.”

All everyone hears is Charles’ angry yell a racket hit the ground and him charging at his brother. All three ladies jump up from their seats and run over to the brothers who are now actually fighting each other well Charles is trying to strangle Henri who is trying to hold him back.

“Charles!” It takes Nicole and Claude to get Charles off Henri. Lexi checks him out and he picks up a tennis ball and weighs it in his hand. “Henri no don’t add injury to insult, he is still the king and your brother.”

“He will never let us marry more over he wants us to break up.”

Lexi swallows and pulls her hand away from his hand with the tennis ball. She turns around so she doesn’t have to see he throws the ball and it hits Charles straight in the nose he cries out because his nose is broken.

“Henri!” Claude looks back at Henri who says “Looks like I won brother.” She then looks back at Charles who is holding his bleeding nose and shooing Nicole’s hands away from his broken nose.

Claude notices Charles getting ready to pounce on Henri again. “Lexi get Henri out of here.”

“Come on Charles we need to get your nose looked at.”

As Charles passes Henri if looks could kill Henri would be dead ten times over.

Xxx

Lexi gets Henri back to their suite she closes the door and leans against it while he sits in on the chaise in front of the fire place there are boxes of her stuff all over the big bedroom. “Your mother said don’t irritate him you promised. And now you broke his nose. He is going to hate us.”

Henri puts out a hand and she walks over and places her hand in his he guides her to sit on his lap. “I know I promised but he called you a peasant and said that I’ll have no problem finding another woman.”

She lays her head on his shoulder and kisses his neck. “Dinner is going to be real fun.”

He nods as he moves his hand up her back.

Xxx

Just as Lexi predicted dinner was awkward Catherine sat at one end and Charles who had to get his nose reset so it can heal properly. Is sitting at the other end. Henri decides that the best place for him to sit is right next to Charles and across from Nicole with Lexi next to him and across from Claude and Leith.

“Henri don’t you have something you want to say to Charles.”

“Your right I do.” Lexi and Claude share a look they know this will not end well. “Charles I’m sorry, I’m sorry for breaking your nose. The soup we are eating tonight is supposed to help keep people strong. More importantly I am sorry people pity you and think your a weak king.”

Lexi rubs her forehead so close. Charles yells out in anger pins Henri on the table soup is spilt and he is choking his brother. Lexi, and Claude are trying to get Charles off Henri. Catherine stands up from her end of the table and looks at the mess her children have made. “Enough!”

[let-me-write-shit]

So, I had this idea for a harry imagine where they met during the 1D days and they took a trip for the summer alone and Harry wrote 'Summer love' for the reader. Then the reader got famous with a solo album and they never saw each other after that summer besides award shows and stuff. But then the reader puts out a song 'Summer by Kesha' which is a response to Summer love and Harry approaches the reader after the Brits (where she preformed) and wants to reconnect. You can end it yourself ❤️.

A/N: First Imagine after having covid. I’ve been trying to write this for weeks and my head was stuffy half the time, so I hope this turned out okay. Sorry it took so long. <3

Word Count: 4,378

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Summer Love

It was always there; that weird underlying tension that fizzled in the air after releasing a particularly personal song. It was easy to write about, and even to perform in front of thousands of strangers, but when it came to interviews it seemed more difficult. Doubts started to settle in and you’d start to kick yourself about releasing something so obvious.

Y/N should be used to the feeling by now. She’s been doing this, professionally, for nearly six years now, and although she quickly and easily built thick skin, always pulling herself out of potentially awkward questions without getting too in-depth about personal meanings of songs and whom they might be about, always handling it with the right amount of grit and edge, to be performing at an award show in front of hundreds of fellow musicians whom she’s looked up to for years was a terrifying prospect. Especially considering he would be watching from the audience as she performed a song written about him.

She didn’t intend for this to happen. She didn’t even want to perform that song. But when she tried to fight against it, they almost pulled her out of performing and it wasn’t worth being cut. It was her first year performing at the Brits and her third year attending. She was still fairly new on the scene despite the amount of time she had been recording, and this was her biggest year in her career so far since the release of her new single. It was mostly due to the rumors behind the song, though the rumors did hold some truth.

She wrote it in response to a song He released about her years ago, but she’d been thinking of the right words to say and the perfect song to write for so long that she was sure people had forgotten by now. Back then, Y/N was too afraid to sing in front of people. But her stage fright didn’t affect her ability to make new friends. She was a wild child at heart and could make friends anywhere she went. She just happened to meet all the right friends in all the right places and it worked out in her favor. It’s how she met him in the first place. Y/N was lucky, and she knew it.

It was about ten years ago, now, when One Direction was dominating the scene. They had just finished their first tour and were on a short break for the summer when some of the boys attended a little party of a mutual friend of Y/N’s. She remembered the first time she saw him. His curly hair unruly and his dimples dreamy. It was at that party that she and Harry exchanged numbers. That was the start of it all.

They had spent nearly every day that summer together. Their differences in behavior would have a huge impact on each other and would set a tone in their own personalities for years to come. Y/N’s wild spirit and carefree energy was something Harry tried to implement in his life as often as he could. It was because of Y/N that he took more risks and started living increasingly by his own rules where he could. And Harry showed her peace. His calm and acceptance taught her how to take a step back and relax. They were yin and yang.

That summer was one they’d never forget and would find themselves randomly thinking about for years after, Getting high, drunk, hanging with friends, kissing until their lips hurt, sex whenever they could get an ounce of privacy, laughing until they cried. Two stupid teenagers having the time of their lives.

The thing about spending so much intimate time with someone for nearly two months was that you’d start to actually fall for them. Harry was the first to say the words ‘I love you’. Their friends would joke and make fun of them for thinking it would be anything more than a summer fling. How could it? They were having too much fun together. All of Harry’s friends loved Y/N, and Harry was the first person outside of her immediate family to hear her sing and encourage her to pursue music. Neither of them wanted it to end. But as August turned to September they both knew. They were young and naive to think it could last.

Y/N remembered the last time they saw each other. She found herself often thinking about it when she was sad and alone. They were at a private beach and the water was too rough to swim in so they stayed on the sand and talked. Harry was about to leave for London the next day and Y/N would be starting back at school soon. They whined about how they didn’t want summer to end. Y/N started getting emotional and Harry began to cry, too. They kissed and cuddled, crying to each other. They told each other that they’d try to keep in touch, but they both knew this was goodbye.

Pictures of them together leaked of that day and rumors began to spread like wildfire. It got even crazier when their next album came out and they released a song called ‘Summer Love’. Fans immediately linked it to the leaked pictures of her and Harry at the beach and her social media blew up with people in her DMs asking for details and stories that she never entertained.

She got angry. How could he write a song about her but not keep in contact? She started pouring herself into her music. It was barely two years later that one of her friends introduced her to a producer and she began to make music. No one expected her career to gain momentum so quickly. Her, least of all. She had no clue what it took to be famous and the first year was the hardest. Especially the interviews.

It was difficult, at first, figuring out how to navigate her ‘girl next door’ image when she couldn’t seem to break free from the narrative of being one of Harry Styles's ex-girlfriends. It would be brought up in nearly every interview and it got tiring. That’s when Y/N made the decision to stop caring about her ‘image’ and to be true to herself. She started shutting down questions related to her personal relationships and showed more of her goofy and real side. Eventually, it became less about Harry and more about how people connected with her as a person. Y/N was refreshing to see amongst all the same talent that’s been on the scene for a while.

There were times where Y/N and Harry would attend the same events and cross paths. He definitely remembered her and they’d share a quick nod or wave in passing, but they’d always be whistles in different directions, unable to speak. Until one event, in particular, last year.

Nothing crazy happened. It was just a fundraiser dinner and a lot of celebrities were in attendance. There were theatrical performances and a few bands playing while they ate, along with intermittent speeches and auctions. Photographers and videographers circled the hundreds in attendance, getting some behind the scene shots, but for the most part, everyone just mingled.

Y/N brought her manager and boyfriend at the time, and she sat at a table with James Corden, his wife, and manager, as well as a few other lesser-known celebs that were more into the business aspect of things. Everyone was talking. She found out that James’s wife was a big fan of hers and they were all laughing at something Y/N said, making promises to be on his show again soon, when a figure loomed behind them, tapping James on the shoulder but getting everyone’s attention, turning to see Harry.

“Oh, Harry! Hello mate! How are you doing?” James asked, attempting to hug him from his seat.

“Alright, man, how are you?” Harry asked, grinning coyly and awkwardly, waving at the rest of the table, “Hello!” and then he looked at Y/N, eyes glistening and nodding, “Hi.”

“Hey,” she grinned back nicely, tight-lipped, as her boyfriend’s arms snaked around her waist, pulling her just a little closer to him.

Her boyfriend, well-known for having a famous dad, had no clue of the history between Y/N and Harry but was a fairly jealous guy. He didn’t trust anyone around Y/N and it was something she resented in their relationship.

Harry turned his attention back to James after eyeing the couple, “I was just checking to see if you’d be performing tonight, too?” Harry joked, “Maybe a little number from Into The Woods?” he smirked, earning a laugh from the table and roars from James.

“No, no. They can’t afford me,” James played along.

“It’s a charity, James,” Harry shot back, “Or maybe they were worried people would walk out.”

“Excuse you! That musical had eleven nominations and three awards, thank you very much!” James laughed, pointing out the empty seat across from him and Y/N, “Would you like to join us?”

Harry agreed, taking the seat, and he stayed there for the rest of the night. He talked with everyone at the table, watched the speeches, and listened to bands play. Eventually, he got enough courage to start conversing more with Y/N, shocked to find that, although she’s grown in the last several years and had a pretty shitty boyfriend, she was still relatively the same carefree, wild spirit he met at that party.

They talked about the release of his first solo album and his time on his first solo tour. They talked about how she was working on a new album herself and the recent interview she had with James that seemed to be a contender for most-viewed. Harry had seen it, as well. He was enjoying being in her company again but could do without her boyfriend that seemed to butt-in at every chance he could. And from the looks of it, Y/N was annoyed about it, as well.

By the end of the night, Harry was kicking himself for not getting her number. As he lay alone in bed, those memories of that summer began flooding back as it did every few months since, and speaking with her today struck him. He felt nostalgic, missing their sandy kisses and midnight strolls. How they used to stay up all night talking on the phone just to see each other again when the sun rose. He contemplated reaching out via Instagram or Twitter but ultimately decided that she had long since gotten over him and that there was no point considering she had a boyfriend.

Except that wasn’t true. The whole car journey back to her hotel, Y/N sat in silence recalling every moment of the night and longing for that old connection for Harry back. The second she and her boyfriend got back to her room, she grabbed her notebook, ignoring her boyfriend’s beckons to join him in bed, and went to work. It was the fastest song she had ever written, taking a total of two hours. And she broke things off with her boyfriend not two weeks later. The news broke in less than twenty-four hours and it was the top story for weeks.

She almost didn’t include the song in her album, but at the last minute, she decided to add it. She figured enough time had passed where people wouldn’t know who it was about. She was wrong. Big time.

Her impending performance at the Brits was all anyone could talk about, and now that the day was here, Y/N’s nerves were reeling. The thought of singing this song and knowing Harry was here watching was enough to make her want to throw up. Every time the camera panned to Harry during the awards with his face plastered on a large screen off to the side, Y/N was certain she’d pass out. Luckily they were on separate ends of the stage and she couldn’t really see him from where she sat, so she just avoided the screen. Her normal ‘don’t care’ attitude was gone.

Soon, she was taken backstage to get wired and ready for her performance. She bounced up and down in her heels trying to summon some energy and shake the nerves, messing with the dangling strands of hair that framed her face and wiping her sweaty palms on her sleek, satin red dress with one off-the-shoulder draping sleeve and a long side-slit.

She was led out to a pitch dark stage and was positioned in the center, hands gripping tightly on her mic as a presenter on another stage finished a short speech and introduced the next act. Y/N looked down at her feet, listening, waiting for her queue, afraid to look up amongst the crowd of very talented, very famous peers.

“The incredible Y/F/N Y/L/N, with her new single, SUMMER!”

The lights shone brightly on Y/N and she began to sing, followed by the sounds of piano.

“I haven’t seen you since the summer

But you feel just like I remember…..”

Her heart pounded as she walked towards the edge of the stage, finally getting the courage to look up and into their faces, everyone smiling, bobbing their heads, and most even singing along. She scanned the audience, her mind racing, terrified and shocked that she had even found the courage to go through with singing this song here. And then she saw him. He sat towards the left of the stage at a circular table, close to the front, looking up at her, listening intently, with a lopsided smile, and their eyes locked.

That’s when something weird happened. The anxiety she felt just seconds before had washed away. For weeks, this had been her worst nightmare; having to sing this song to his face. She had given herself countless pep talks and dozens of plans to avoid eye contact with anyone in the audience while she sang just in case she ended up looking at Harry. But now that it’s happened, a sense of relief has washed over her. There were so many things she wanted to say to him over the past few years, but for some reason, singing this song at him seemed like enough for the time being. It summed it all up.

He could feel eyes on him, not just from Y/N, but from his table and those around him, as well. Everyone knew of the rumors about this song. Everyone assumed it was about him. Honestly, he figured it was about him, too. Some of the lyrics seemed to point to that summer. But assuming he meant enough to her, especially enough to write a song after all this time, seemed extremely arrogant of him, so he avoided vocalizing his thoughts on the topic and always pushed it aside when it was brought to his attention.

When he heard that she would be performing the song at the Brits, a part of him was scared. He didn’t know how he should react. Should he play it cool? Should he sing along? Should he ignore her performance? But when he saw her on the stage in front of him, he couldn’t take his eyes away. A smile formed on his face and all he could feel was pride. He was proud that he got to know her before all of the fame and got to see the talent before she blew up. He was proud that she worked so hard to get to where she was.

And then they locked eyes.

He was speechless. It wasn’t a particularly heart-wrenching song in its own right, but he could feel the meaning behind the lyrics deep in his chest. Harry could see the tension fading from Y/N’s eyes, something that would barely be noticed unless you were looking for it. And he laughed as she bounced and skipped around the stage. She kicked her heels off which earned an outrageous amount of screams and claps and he laughed as she spun around the stage, barefoot. There she was; that beautiful, carefree girl he’d known when they were just teenagers. And as the song ended and she began to slow down, they caught eyes once more and they smiled before the lights began to dim and everyone in the audience stood, clapping. Harry among them.

“Wow. That was incredible,” his sister, Gemma, awed beside him.

They shared a look; one of both knowing and apprehension. He never told Gemma about Y/N. Sure, she knew of the rumors and saw the pictures, but they never went into detail about their love lives with each other. She didn’t want to push anything out of her brother, but she was a fan of Y/N’s and didn’t want to make her brother feel uncomfortable if she was supporting an artist whom he had any sort of resentment about. But by the look of his smile and nod of agreeance, she knew that it was no trouble.

He found himself often peaking over the heads of the crowd in an attempt to steal a glance at her. And whenever he stood to clap, or collect an award, no matter how hard he tried to conceal his curiosity, he would always end up locking eyes. When she won the first award of her career, he clapped louder and longer than anyone else, and he knew that he was giving himself away. Everyone who had come with him had realized that he was increasingly becoming more interested in her as the night progressed.

When the award show was finally over, he attempted to shuffle amongst the crowd, hoping to catch her before she left, but that proved difficult as he kept getting stopped by other friends and celebrities wanting to congratulate him on his winnings and aiming to have a conversation with him. By the time he had reached her table, she had already gone.

The afterparty was brimming with people, with both celebrities who had gone to the awards, and some who hadn’t. The music was so loud in areas that you could hardly hear others speak. Servers were weaving in and out of people with trays of food and drinks while people talked, danced, and consorted. He was always surprised by the mix of people he saw at afterparties and the friendships he had never expected.

He was in the middle of a conversation with his sister, Alexa Chung, and a few others, when a reflection of glistening light just beyond their group caught his eye, and he looked past his friends to see Y/N standing towards the other end of the room laughing with James Corden, just like she had been the last time he saw her. He had made up his mind in an instant and politely excused himself, making his way over.

“Hello,” he dragged, cautiously edging up towards the two.

They both looked up and he noticed the surprise in Y/N’s eyes before James exclaimed, “Harry! How’s it going, mate?”

“I’m alright, James. And you?” He asked, and before James could respond he turned towards Y/N and muttered, “Hey.”

“Jesus Christ, Harold, you’re not very subtle, are you?” he joked.

It was only a joke, but both Y/N and Harry began to blush. James, too, knew of the rumors and even pressed his friend, off the record, about his brief encounter with Y/N. He knew that there were some reserved emotions between the two old lovers, but by the look of their reaction, it seemed to be a bit greater than he had anticipated and he knew he might have just inadvertently created a bit of tension between the two.

“Well, it was nice to see you both, but I’ve got to go look for my wife before she leaves me for Shawn Mendes,” James lied, giving both of them a friendly hug and kiss on the cheek, “Have a good night.”

They watched as James snuck off and stood there in a moment of silence as the room around them only got louder. Y/N smirked, waiting for Harry to say something. Years, she had pictured this moment. Years she had imagined having a conversation as more than just a passing node or group discussion. Still, if he didn’t get a move on, someone could interrupt them and it’d be just another fleeting moment in their years worth of run-ins.

“You look lovely,” he finally noted, motioning towards her dress.

Y/N snorted, raising an eyebrow, “Come on, Harry, what’d you really want to say?”

Harry grinned nervously, shaking his head, she could see right through him, “Could never get anything past you, could I?”

“Never,” she smiled, crossing her arms.

He looked at her a moment, scanning her eyes before his face turned more serious, “...I missed you.”

“Oh? Did you?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled, teasingly jutting his head forward matter-of-factly, “I did.”

“I guess I missed you, too. If you couldn’t tell by the song,” she added, giggling.

“Oh, was that about me?” he asked sarcastically.

Y/N rolled her eyes, “Nah, couldn’t be. Some other bloke, some other summer.”

Harry laughed, astounded. So much time had passed and Y/N was seldom not on his mind. Sure, he had seen her in passing at the many award shows and alongside him on the internet, but he always wondered what time had done to her. He, himself, had learned and evolved with time and with knowledge. He hadn’t considered himself a ‘changed’ man, like so many that had gained money and an ounce of power, but rather he considered himself just grown. He wondered if she would be the same and often worried that the lifestyle would have sucked her dry. He sees it time and time again, lively people turning into shells of their past while trying to keep up with the scene.

But seeing her here, now, he knew that not to be true. She seemed every bit herself, just….grown. More confident, smarter, but just as playful and beautiful as ever. The nerves he was feeling before had gone, replaced with the silliness that he remembered always feeling when he was around her.

“So, we’ve established that I missed you and you missed me. What should we do about that?” he asked, rather flirtatiously.

She raised an eyebrow, tilting her head to the side and as if it was the simplest answer said, “Well, I suppose that means you should ask me out to dinner.”

Harry smiled wider, “So no boyfriend, then?”

She shook her head, a playful smirk forming on her face, “Not unless you’re asking.”

His mouth fell open slightly. Her forwardness was always something he fawned over, and before he could speak, a dark-haired girl slunk up to the two of them and they turned to see Gemma. Y/N had never met Gemma before and only knew of her from the stories Harry told her when they were younger. Of course, she’s seen pictures of his older sister, but seeing them side-by-side she could see the similarities between the two siblings.

“Hi, sorry to interrupt…” Gemma started.

Y/N shook her head, “No, you’re not. It’s Gemma, right? I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you.”

Harry watched as his sister attempted to stop ogling and accepted Y/N’s offer for a hug and polite kiss on either cheek. He knew Gemma must be internally freaking out as she admitted, “It’s so nice to meet you. I’m a big fan.”

“Thank you. You look gorgeous, by the way. I can tell who got the good genes,” Y/N smiled, poking fun at Harry.

He feigned hurt and elongated, “Heeeeyyyyy.”

“Hush, now. The girls are talking,” Y/N winked.

The three spent most of the night together, conversing with dozens of other celebrities who approached them, but they hadn’t strayed from each other all night. Their conversation seemed endless and never ran out of things to say. They even started getting a little childish and would sneak off and explore the hotel in which the party was held. Harry was happy to see that his sister and Y/N had quickly become friends, even if it was at the expense of his ego. But as the night continued and the three fought to hide their exhaustion, it had gotten too late and Y/N’s manager had finally found them.

“Come on, Y/N, we should get going,” the blonde tugged at Y/N’s arm.

Y/N nodded, “Yeah, alright.”

They all stood up and gave each other hugs goodbye, “It was nice to see you again,” Y/N whispered into Harry’s ear, lingering in his embrace just a second longer before pulling away, smiling, and following her manager towards the exit.

Harry watched after her, sad to see her walking away again. Why was sleep even a thing? He could spend hours more talking to her about utter nonsense, filling in the gaps of all of their missed time together. He felt a nudge to the left of him from Gemma and he turned to see her urging eyes. He knew what she meant. And he didn’t need another nudge. In seconds, he bolted up and jogged ahead, catching up with them. Y/N must have heard his footsteps, because she turned, amused to see Harry yielding, out of breath.

“Forget something?” she joked, crossing her arms with a smile.

He grinned, nodding, “Your number.”

She smiled wider, holding her hand out for his phone and when he passed it to her, she quickly inputted her number and saved it, handing it back. “Please pass my number along to your sister, too.”

“Are you just using me to get to Gemma?” Harry joked.

“Of course I am,” Y/N laughed. There was a moment of silence before Y/N leaned in, kissing him softly on the cheek before stepping back towards her manager, “Don’t lose my number this time, yeah?”

Harry shook his head, lips twitching, “Never. I won’t make that mistake again.”

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@odetostep @mylittleangel9403 @thurhomish @fallingfordolans

[catharrington]

It HAS to be #4 for thst prompt list. Kill me with it!

4/ We slept in the same bed for space reasons but now we’re just waking up and there’s something about your bleary eyes and mussed hair.

Maybe a little different than requested but like here is a thot I’ve had for a while.

We’ve got tonight.

Hopper pushed the metal door closed behind them with a shove, the hinges creeking. He leaned against it, face twisted up in a grimace, and reached to run his hand over his brow in exasperation but couldn’t. One hand occupied locking the door, the other braced around Billy Hargrove’s forearm, his knuckles hitting the handcuffs binding the teen’s wrists.

“You better have a good explanation for this, Jim!” Murray hissed- fuckin hissed, jabbing a finger right into the middle of Hopper’s chest.

“He ain’t!” Billy scoffed. Earning him a yank on the arms that only made the teen snarl in return. “You ain’t!” He repeated this time towards Hopper.

“Just cool it, Billy!” Steve finally snapped at where he was standing farther down the hallway. Running his hands through his hair in a panic, panting like he just got finished running, looking wide eyed at how the three others turned to face him.

Murray took a step towards Steve, tilting his head to the side. Steve wanted to show his teeth in a little hiss, but he didn’t want to come off the same energy as Billy. So he bit the bottom of his lip. Placed his hands on his hips and cocked them to the side.

“And you must be...,” Murray asked slowly.

“I’m Steve,” Steve said letting go of his bottom lip. Flicking his eyes to the wall and back.

“Oh, you’re Steve,” Murray instantly melted into knowing laughter, eyes glimmering with an inside joke.

Steve opened his mouth to snap back what the hell the older man meant by that- but Murray was already turned back to face the door.

“And that mullet and attitude just gives you away! The infamous Billy Hargrove?” he announced, clasping his hands together manically.

Hopper rolled his eyes, frowning and groaning, while Billy perked up. Stepping towards Murray with a confident shrug only slightly ruined by the handcuffs pulling taught. “Didn’t know I had a fuckin reputation to keep up with-,”

“Shut your trap, Hargrove!” Hopper interrupted him. Pushing Billy so he faces the wall. Legs spread and hands in front to brace himself as best as he can. Steve glances away.

“As cute as this all is, sheriff- Chief! Hopper. Why, oh why, have you shown up at my humble abode with two teenage boys at 2 in the morning?” Murray says with a forced fondness. “Explain, please?” He snaps when Hopper takes a second too long to think.

“Alright, alright,” he purses his lips, rolls that thick mustache around.

“We need a place to spend the night.” Steve pipes up.

Murray turns to him with a grimace. “I’m not a bed and breakfast, Steve,” he mocks.

“Well,” Steves got his hands on his hips still, knows the kids would roll their eyes at him. But he’s way too tired at this point. “If you give a flying shit: we’ve been kinda running for our lives from Russian super soldiers and parallel universe demons all day long. We’ve wrestled a smoke monster out of Billy’s mouth that was so not something I wanted to see, thanks, and I haven’t eaten or taken a shower in way- way too long. So if you don’t mind?”

Hopper and Murray had matching frowns, if that was possible. It might have just been the facial hair. While Billy watched Steve with a cross between fondness in his eyes, and complete debauchery in the rest of his face. Licking across his fat bottom lip while he raked his eyes over Steve. Up and down. Making no effort to hide it.

Steve scoffed at him, pursing his lips and turning away. He didn’t see the way Murray looked between the two of them. His eyes flicking left and right as if trying to calculate across a page.

“I’ve got a fold out couch that would be cramped, but it’s nicer than it looks.” He suggests.

Steve wanted to whine, complain, lament about why he had to get bunked with the guy who only ‘most likely’ doesn’t have a demon inside of him anymore. But Steve felt tired. And if the bags under Hopper’s eyes that are dark as, and seem to droop down just as low as, his mustache have anything to say; he’s tired too.

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve nods back, “that sounds good.”

“Showers first door on the left, couch is just down this hall into the living room. Can’t miss it.” Murray says with a sniveling smirk that sets Steve’s teeth on edge. He doesn’t even care, just rushes past to head into the shower first.

And that’s how Steve finds himself, laying across a fold out couch that smells like pipe smoke and vodka with one arm draped across his hips and the other bent holding his top half up to watch Billy come out of the bathroom. He makes it one step before Hopper is there with the handcuffs. Slapping them back in place with a shiver inducing clicking noise.

“I’ve got my eyes on you, Hargrove,” Hopper warns, threatening even in a button up Hawaiian shirt, “don’t think for a second-,”

“Have you ever known me to think, chief?” Billy snaps back. Makes Steve’s eyes roll. The blonde with hair still curly and dripping wet gives Hopper a two handed salute before walking away backwards towards the living room.

“Goodnight, Hop,” Billy sings.

It’s three in the morning by the time the lights are off and both boys are laying down. Billy’s turned to his side. His hands forced together by metal up and clutching the end of his lumpy pillow. Steve’s laying on his stomach, nuzzling into his own pillow before turning ever slightly to look at Billy.

He watches as Billy softens when he sleeps. Those long eyelashes fluttering closed. His cheeks dusted with freckles more apparent this close. The closest they’ve ever been. Even in basketball when Billy presses right up to his side. Even in the showers when he leers and gets right into his face. Hell, even only hours ago when they had Billy strapped down to a hospital bed in a lava hot room as he begged to be let go, snarled, whimpered, and Steve had to lay across his shoulders to stop him from ripping the heavy leather restraints, this is the closest Steve’s thinking he’s ever been.

Or maybe it’s the closest he’s ever been without a fight. Without some immature school yard excuse to admire those long lashes and cute freckles.

Steve twists himself to get a better look. Both boys laying on their sides. He feels a smile grow across his face as he drops his eyes closed.

In the morning, light is much different in Murray’s sealed fortress of a house. It filters through newspapers he has glued up, gives the light a stuffy orange glow that makes the whole place cozy. Not intentionally, Steve figures, as he wakes up and blinks his eyes into focus, just as unintentionally as he finds himself still next to Billy.

But in the same way, he finds it lovely. The way the orange light filters through the rotting newspapers to cascade down across Billy’s tanned skin and alight it in coppers. Catches each and every wild curl made messy with sleep. Litters them with strands of spun golden thread.

His freckles are dark, still too many shadows, but they are there. Steve is close enough to see how they move when Billy wrinkles his nose in sleep. How his eyes shift to make those long lashes flutter.

Steve’s not thinking. He’s in some orange tinted twilight zone as he reaches forward. Stretches out his long fingers to inch ever closer.

He’s always wanted to touch. Always found some alternative for it. But maybe now, maybe in this orange-

Steve curls his fingers over the back of Billy’s neck. Burrows his fingers into soft gold hair. Rubs his thumb across copper skin covered with freckles. Sighs out loud when his skin makes contact because Billy’s warm, so warm, like a California beach. Just like he imagined.

“Pretty boy,” the words are tired, slurred, only just awake. Billy’s eyes open slowly. His blue darkened to navy. Pools of shadowed water just before the break of dawn. Promises of a rainbow colored sky.

Steve bites his lip because he wants to pull away, but he doesn’t. Not this time. He swipes his thumb again and again. “You know it’s a joke, you calling me pretty boy when you look like this. Really such a dumb joke. Have you looked into a mirror?”

Billy scoffs. Curls up one lip in disgust as he lifts his head to nuzzle farther into Steve’s hand. Blinks once, then twice, before focusing his half open bleary eyes on Steve’s own. “Only lookin at you, pretty boy.” He mumbles.

The handcuffs jingle as Billy lifts them to pet across Steve’s forearm the same way Steve can’t stop petting across Billy’s sleep warmed skin.

Neither boy hears Murray making coffee in the kitchen. They have their eyes closed again by the time the man walks into the living room to watch with a cocky smile buried into his mug. Steve’s got his legs tangled with Billy’s, touching as much as he can without any good excuse.

[dakarimainink]

ICHOR

Part 2 - POV Pedro

WARNING: 18+, alcohol, desire, sexual references, hint at human harm, slight angst (I guess?)

Pairing: mafia!Pedro x OFC

Wordcount: 4.1K

Note: Not betad all mistakes are my own. Alright, I've been continuously planning on this story and concluded it will be a slow burner. Stuff will take time with this series, but I might as well put a future warning for this series: it will contain a lot of 18+ stuff, like drugs, alcohol, violence, murder, blood, sex and so on and so forth. So bear with me as we build this thing up.

Also, I appreciate you guys, you're the best 💛

Part 1 | ... | Part 3 | Part 4

Masterlist

He wasn’t interested in being there that night. He had other things to tend to, especially after the Water Lilly gang had tried to stop the import of exotic cigars and whiskey. They had almost succeeded hadn’t he instructed the drivers to arm themselves two weeks in advance.

There was a reason Pedro was on top, the fearless boss no one dared to touch. He was as good at reading his surroundings and the people within it as he was staying impeccably dressed - no one outmatched him on either. Rumours quickly spread that he could see into the future, which he found amusing, but were far from the truth, he simply had a rough childhood; always looking over his shoulder and seeing the devil in the details.

It was Mr. Ruiz – the capo for south-east side of the city – who suggested the club. Pedro barely remembered putting money into the place, but then again, he didn’t really care where it went, as long as it would turn to a profit, which it did. It was Ruiz who had asked for investment in the place, back when it was an empty waste of space and turned it completely around – the most lucrative club in the city.

Pedro was lost in thoughts, trying to figure out how to get back at the Water Lilly gang for their transgression. They knew to stay off those trucks, yet their greedy disgusting little hands had reached for his goods and taken out some fine men too. He wanted to hit them hard and as he swirled the liquor around his glass, contemplating if he was to just raid their base or just take out some men in return, the crowd begun to cheer and clap.

Mr. Ruiz, who had been babbling with too much alcohol in his blood and the one person Pedro wished had shut up during his occupied mind, rose to his feet applauding. Pedro lifted his head, dragging his eyes up from the golden content of his glass to see what had made the crowd go wild. It didn’t take long though, as a mysterious caped form had stepped onto the stage. It intrigued him as he placed his glass on the table, hand still wrapped around the crystal.

He let out a long exhale when the figure reached up and pulled off the hood over its head, revealing the face of an angel, at least that’s what he thought when his eyes snapped from her plump lips to her rich brown eyes. He had never seen such beauty before and this woman on stage with this almost sad face, had pulled him into something that felt foreign yet warm.

He breathed through parted lips as her eyes wandered across the room where she met his gaze. For the first time he felt vulnerable, even though he was probably the deadliest in the room. His grip loosened around his glass as she continued to hold her eyes. He didn’t even flinch as she pulled at the string of the cape and it flowed down, revealing the most sinful body to walk this earth.

His mind felt numb once she finally had looked away from him and begun her performance. He couldn’t help his eyes wandering her form, taking in each curve, dip and fold as she moved around. He tried hard to ignore the pressure he felt in his groin while watching her. It was the animalistic side of him trying to get out, but he supressed his urges to stay respectful of her performance. He knew her dancing and clothing were to provoke such impulses, he wasn’t ignorant, but his mother had taught him better; if you ever want to be a man, you treat every woman in your life with respect. He could still hear her voice echo the sentence in his head.

He let go of his glass and leaned forward in his seat, trying desperately to meet her eyes once more. He wanted to feel that foreign sensation again. When they finally met, his heart skipped a beat before slamming into his ribcage several times. The warmth spread across his chest as he dragged his fingers through his curly hair and held her gaze as she twisted and turned around on stage. He felt almost honoured that this woman would stay connected with him as she danced.

He didn’t take his eyes off her until she finished her performance and left the stage. As soon as she was gone, he felt empty and a slight chill went through his veins. He grabbed his glass and took a sip, letting the liquid burn down his throat to feel some warmth again.

Mr. Ruiz slumped down on the chair with a disgusting grin on his face. He had loosened his tie and taken off his jacket during the performance, which Pedro has missed entirely being pulled into her beautiful gaze. Ruiz downed his glass and let out a rumbly chuckle.

“What a piece of meat, huh boss?” He bumped his elbow a few times on Pedro’s arm.

His brows furrowed deeply as he turned to look at Ruiz with a deadly stare. “Piece of meat?” He echoed to him in a low growl.

Mr. Ruiz shrunk in his seat as he saw Pedro’s eyes turn darker by the second. “I-I mean…” A tremble went through his body as he lost all words in his vocabulary.

“Piece of meat…” Pedro turned his head away from Ruiz, feeling disgusted by his presence, and swirled his whiskey around in the glass. He let out a sigh and looked over his shoulder to grab the attention of one of his guards standing by. The guard walked up to him and bent down to head level with Pedro. “Take Mr. Ruiz home, let him sober up ‘til the next morning, then I want you and two more to remind Mr. Ruiz that women are not pieces of meat.” His voice was low as he spoke it into the guard’s ear. “And have Mr. Miller pick me up in fifteen.”

He rose to his feet, straightened his suit and picked up his coat. He turned to look down at Mr. Ruiz, who still sat small and shaking in his chair. Pedro gave him a reassuring smile, which didn’t help the trembling, but gave him hope that perhaps his boss was feeling forgiving for his choice of words. “I believe it’s best you get some rest, Mr. Ruiz. The alcohol has obviously gone to your head and you are in no state to have a civilised conversation with. I have asked this man to take you home.” Pedro gestured to the broad man standing behind him. “Sleep well, Mr. Ruiz.”

~

Pedro stood still in front of the wooden door with the words “changing room” on. The A and the second O were almost completely scraped off. He probably shouldn’t have been there, intruding upon her space right after a show, but he had to see her, to share just a moment alone with her.

He knocked softly on the wood three times, waiting to be invited in. His eyes widened at her sweet voice vibrating through the door, it sent a shiver down his spine. He pushed the door slowly open and found her standing in front of a mirror, brushing her hair.

“Good evening, miss. I hope I don’t disturb.”

He noticed her eyes widened at his manifestation, he didn’t know if it was out of surprise or fear, which he didn’t like, not knowing. She put her hairbrush down and turned to him, he watched her assess him, waiting for her to speak up, whether it was to reject his presence or let him stay.

“No, you’re not.” She sounded nervous, but he couldn’t help but see a hint of curiosity in her eyes as he held it.

He took a step in and closed the door behind him as to not be disturbed. He just hoped she wouldn’t feel trapped as he did so. He noticed the chair next to him and put down his coat on top before taking a step closer. He could smell her sweet floral perfume from where he stood. He inhaled slowly, trying not to make it apparent he was taking in her scent. It made his head almost swim and he swore he could stay there forever, inhaling her perfume and admire her beauty.

He lowered his head at her, mostly out of habit when he first meets someone. “My name is Pedro Pascal and this is my first time coming to this place. I must say your performance was captivating. The rumours about your dance were insignificant compared to actually seeing it.” He said truthfully, because it was indeed a delightful performance.

“Your words are too kind, mister Pascal.”

His ears perked up as she said his name. It had a pleasant tone to it, which made him faintly smile as he straightened up to look down at her.

“I must admit it is surprising to hear this is your first time here, I thought you owned the club.”

For a split second he wanted to furrow his brows, until he found her words somewhat humorous. “Yes, I suppose.” He smirked thoughtfully. She didn’t seem intimated by him after all, which made him lower his shoulders just a little. “But I am a busy man, I own a lot of businesses around town. I can assure you I have probably not been to half of them before.”

She chuckled at his remark and it made his heart flutter. So soft and innocent, he wanted to touch her, but knew if he did for too long, it might corrupt her.

“I hope I don’t intrude on your time off, miss?” Her name, he wanted her name. He wanted to see how she pronounced it, how she sounded and then he wanted to taste it on his own lips, like she had tasted his.

“Rose, Rose Miller.”

“Rose.” Her name was perfect. It matched her rosy cheeks, warm aura and that sweet floral perfume of hers. “That’s a beautiful name you have, Rose.” He had another taste of it and he loved it.

He took a step closer to her, not knowing why, but something drew him to her, but the atmosphere in the room immediately changed. He saw the sweetness in her eyes turn to fear and her smile that once painted her plump beautiful lips faded. He furrowed his brows, not knowing if he had stepped too close to her, if he had perhaps pushed his luck a bit too far.

“Is everything okay, Rose? You seem…” He noticed the warmth of her skin had faded and her once rosy cheeks were now – “Pale.”

She leaned back on the table behind her. “Oh, I am terribly sorry, mister Pascal, I am just…” Her eyes darted around his face in panic. “Drained from the performance.”

Lies. He wanted to confront her of it, that he knew her lips were not speaking the truth, but he also knew he had no right. He knew it had to do with him, but he was not going to push it. He knew she was aware of his position in this city, which could be intimidating enough in itself, but to share such a small space with him alone – she had strength within her to stay grounded on her feet, which only made him want to know her more.

He nodded, trying to cool down the slight disappointment and anger rushing through his veins from her lie. “Then, miss Rose, I wouldn’t want to occupy your time and keep you from getting home. But before I go.” He lifted his hand to pull out his personal card.

He pulled it out and noticed her flinch at his movement. His heart dropped at her reaction, but he didn’t blame her. “It’s just a paper card, miss Rose.” He tried to assure her there was nothing dangerous with it before handing it over. “I would like to invite you to do a more private performance at my place next Saturday. I know it is a working day for you here, but I have arranged for someone else to come instead. I will of course pay you should you choose to come.”

She took the card from his hand and he was disappointed that their fingers didn’t touch. He had to feel her, just a small graze would be enough.

“It is optional for you to come of course. If you choose not to perform, just take the day off. I will make sure you are paid none the less, so you don’t feel pressured.” It was important to him that she didn’t feel threatened to come, that this was entirely optional.

She glanced from him to the card, inspecting it and he waited patiently. Looking at her delicate fingers feel the card and flip it over. He breathed a little heavier watching her read his full name on the card, watching her lips slightly move as she recited it within her head.

He wanted to touch her so badly, to feel her skin and see if it was as soft as it looked. He had said everything he had to and now was the perfect time to say goodbye in the most old fashioned way, but a way he loved to part as it gave him the opportunity to not only show his respect for her, but also let him feel her. He reached out his hand with his palm up and watched the confusion spread across her face. He couldn’t help the amusement he felt when he saw her. “Your hand, miss Rose. If you please.”

With a trembling hand, she placed her hand in his and his heart was enveloped by pure warmth. She was soft, oh so soft, and delicate, like a little bird resting in the sun. He placed his thumb on top of her fingers to get a better grip on her and the shakes in her hand were gone. It delighted him to see it and he bent down, leading her hand to his lips and softly pressed them down at the back of her hand. He had to close his eyes as he revelled on the warmth he felt on his lips once he touched her. His head swam as her scent were stronger, seeping through his nostrils and playing with his senses. He could hear the silent gasp leave her mouth and he fought hard to not let a teasing smirk grow on his lips.

He straightened up and watched the warmth had returned to her cheeks and her shoulders were no longer tense. There was a smile playing with her lips and for a moment – just a very small moment – he imagined kissing them, but he quickly pushed the thought away. He didn’t want to let go of her, but knew if he held on, she might find it uncomfortable, and he regrettably let go. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Rose.”

He turned around and picked up his coat. He reached for the door and looked over his shoulder with a faint smirk on his lips. “I truly hope to see you next Saturday. It would be an honour to have you as a guest at my house.” He bowed his head at her before leaving the room, closing the door behind him. He begged within himself that she would show up.

~

Pedro sat still behind his mahogany desk, listening to his capos discuss their next move to broaden their reach outside the city. Although he heard every word that was said, his mind was occupied by a pair of dark brown eyes, rosy cheeks and floral smells. He saw her fluid movements on stage, tantalising him, luring him, begging him to seek her out. He could almost smell her perfume and for a moment he closed his eyes just to see her clearly in his head.

“What do you say boss?”

His eyes snapped open and they wandered across the men standing in the room with him. He must have missed the last part, but he was not going to admit it, mostly because this was a first for him. They expected him to listen, to understand and then either agree or disagree with them.

Pedro looked over at Federico – his right hand man – and rose an eyebrow at him. Taking the hint immediately, Federico stood up from his chair and stepped over to the side of the desk. Turning to speak to the other men in the room, he straightened his jacket and scanned the room, making sure everyone was listening.

“I believe the best option is to go straight through to them, instead of taking a detour. If we can own the road, no one can stop us. We’ll start furthest away and squeeze them closer to the city, entrapping them and forcing them to do as we say.” He begun to explain and the men in the room listened intently. “We don’t want any attention on this, so make sure to keep the body count to a minimum. If the Water Lilly gang finds out we’re eating up their territory, this might turn ugly pretty fast. Set up a date as soon as possible and claim it within a night.” Federico crossed his arms and puffed his chest out. “Now leave, this meeting is over. Any questions and you take them with me. Nothing is to be done until I say we’re ready.”

The men in the room, as if on cue, spoke in unison. “Inigualable, indiviso, inflexible.” They scrambled out of the room, leaving Pedro and Federico alone.

Pedro let out a sigh and leaned back in his chair. He was already exhausted from the meeting and he had barely said anything. He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes shut, feeling a slight headache coming in.

The sound of liquid being poured made him open his eyes and look at Federico standing by the side table, pouring two glasses of whiskey. He sauntered over to the desk and placed one of the glasses in front of Pedro. “What’s occupying your mind?” He asked as he sat down in the chair on the other side of the desk.

He glanced at the golden liquid. “Wondering what to do with the Water Lilly gang for touching our goods.”

Federico snorted and Pedro snapped his eyes at him with a stern look. “Forgive me, Pedro, but I’ve known you long enough to know that’s not what’s occupying your mind. There’s something more personal.”

He tilted his head back, exhaled deeply and looked back at him with a softer expression. “Her name is Rose.” He said, not willing to give up too much, but knowing Federico, he would get just enough information to give some advice to clear his mind.

Federico leaned forward in his chair, interest peaking at his ears. “Rose, huh? It wouldn’t be the woman Mr. Ruiz made a comment about?”

“Perhaps.”

Federico couldn’t help but chuckle at his vagueness. “Figured as much, cerdito was a drunken mess.” Pedro narrowed his eyes at Federico. “Which of course doesn’t excuse his comment.” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. Although they had been friends and business partners for a long time, Pedro knew how to dominate anyone he interacted with, which sometimes made him nervous. “I heard he had a pretty bad fall down a flight of stairs the other day.”

“That’s what happens when you’re not careful.” Pedro hadn’t even given it a second thought when he first told the guard to take care of him. He supposed he was too occupied thinking of Rose, trying desperately to have a reason for her to come to him.

Federico took a sip from his drink. “I must say it was kind of you to let him live.”

“He might have overstepped, but there was no reason for me to have him killed. He is good at what he does, but he needs to control his alcohol intake.”

Federico rose an eyebrow at him. “To be a man relying a lot on import and export of alcohol, you sure are not a fan of it.”

Pedro reached forward and picked up the whiskey filled glass. He turned it around in his hand and looked at the content. “It’s not about the alcohol, Federico. It’s about the people consuming it. With the right amounts, it can be a party, but with too much, it can turn to a bloodshed.” He guided the glass to his lip and took a sip as he held Federico’s curious gaze. The liquid burned down his throat. “There’s a difference.” A smile played on his lips as he placed the glass down again.

Federico smirked back at him and took a gulp from his whiskey before setting the glass down on the desk. “Now, tell me about her.”

Pedro leaned back in his chair, fingers interlaced and resting in his lap. His eyes wandered the ceiling, thinking back at her beauty. “Divine.” He murmured as he saw her face. The image trailed down her body and blood began to rush to his groin. “Sinful.” He sighed as her seductive curves played in his mind.

“That says a lot and nothing at the same time.” Federico chortled. “So, I assume that you spoke with her when you were at the bar?”

Pedro mentally slapped himself, reminding himself to not think this way of her, but it was hard – very hard. “Yes, I spoke with her after her performance. When I first entered the room alone with her, she seemed fine, nothing out of the ordinary, but halfway through our conversation, everything shifted. She seemed uncomfortable.” The memory made him upset, he never wanted to make her tense.

“Hmm… what were you talking about then?”

He thought back at it. “She had just told me her name.”

“Full name?”

Pedro nodded, remembering the sting of fear in her eyes.

Federico hummed in amusement and leaned forward in his chair. “Pedro, put two and two together. She just handed her own identity to the most dangerous man in this city. I too would be nervous if I didn’t want to be on the radar of a man like you.”

Pedro rubbed his chin thoughtfully. As his words settled in, he rubbed his eyes in annoyance, more of the fact that he didn’t even think about it. He had never shown interest like this in a woman before. Yes, he was always polite to every woman he met, but Rose, she was someone he actually wanted to seek more time with.

“Yeah, you know what I am talking about. How did it go after that? Was it still uncomfortable?”

“It was.” He said, thinking back at him finally touching her. “Until I asked for her hand, she gave it to me and I kissed it, saying my farewell. When I looked up at her again, she seemed almost…”

“Smitten?”

“Yes.” He admitted, thinking back at her soft eyes and kind smile.

Federico chuckled and leaned back. “Well, with the charm you ooze, no wonder.”

“I invited her to my place next Saturday.”

His eyes widened slightly in surprise as he looked at Pedro. “And what did she say?”

He shook his head. “Nothing. I just assured her there was no pressure for her to come.” He didn’t know if it was a good sign or a bad sign that she hadn’t said anything to his offer. He was just glad he had managed to turn the tight atmosphere to something calmer.

Federico nodded as he reached for his drink and downed it all in one go. “Well, do as you want to Pedro.” He rose to his feet and looked down at him. “Just know that even though you’re as untouchable as a man can get, remember that the people around you are not.” He took the glass with him as he left Pedro’s office.

Pedro watched the door close behind Federico. He leaned back in his chair and dragged his hand over his face, feeling tired, annoyed and a sting of conflict within himself. He propped his elbow up on the arm rest and rubbed his temple, trying to soothe the lingering headache. He knew Federico was right, but the thought of having to not seek her out was numbing in his head. All he had thought about the past two days was her. It was dangerous, he knew, to let his mind slip so easily, but the pull he felt towards her was too much. It was like a craving he needed to satisfy.

(Wanna be added to my tag list for Pedro Pascal and his characters? Let me know and I will happily add you)

@cynic-spirit, @lililolli, @notabotiswear, @sara-alonso, @blankmooon, @ah-callie, @mamacitapascal, @thewaythisis, @greeneyedblondie44