#i probably manoeuvred into other direction but i hope you got the answer

[theheirofthesharingan]

You beautiful last post just reminded me of the moment Itachi is told that Sasuke died. He looked devastated and shocked for a moment, but he immediately knew his little brother was alive. How do you think this happened? How could he know?

It's a beautiful and heartbreaking moment when you look back at it after the reveal. I love how he slowly processes it when Pain's explaining that Sasuke might have been dead too and then also goes "You should be thankful to Deidara, he sacrificed himself to save you trouble." But, in fact, Itachi is worried and horrified. Someone whose facial expressions are always perfectly smooth, the little bit of variation in them betrays his otherwise perfectly held composure. In the above penal, it's so obvious that even Kisame can tell he's heartbroken. And Kisame isn't saying the comforting words as some sort of mock-ridiculkng way.

I think Itachi always had a kind of sixth sense whenever it came to Sasuke. He could read him like an open book, at least when they were kids. In later years his judgement became clouded with a lot of things, yet love remained. When they were little, he could tell Sasuke was jealous and hurt because their father paid more attention to him than to Sasuke. And he didn't hold it against Sasuke to be upset with the situation. Before Sasuke's academy started, and both the brothers returned home from their practice, Fugaku mainly talked to Itachi about his Anbu mission, but Itachi could still sense Sasuke wanted to talk to their dad about his presence at the Academy the next day.

Itachi ends up helping him here too without disrespecting his father and without bringing Sasuke into it. In the novel he was furious, but still handled it with care.

He didn't need Sasuke to vocalize his feelings. Itachi will always know. He also knew of all that he'd put Sasuke through Sasuke didn't hate him.

Itachi and Sasuke are soulmates (platonic). If something happened to Sasuke Itachi would die too. His sixth sense was always at work. They were always tied with a thread, and even if Itachi believed that Sasuke would move on someday, he too couldn't. The love was on both sides.

[tteokdoroki]

assistance please! | e.kirishima.

♡ pairing: eijirou kirishima x fem!reader.

♡ word count: 6.6K

♡ rating: mature, 18+, mdni.

♡ genre: workplace!au, internship!au, fluff + smut.

♡ summary: eijirou kirishima loved being an intern, he had great co-workers, had a shot at his dream job, his boss had taken quite liking to him and of course, being the favourite intern had many, many perks.

♡ warning(s): please read ! heavy smut,  ( kirishima is in his twenties ), power dynamics, sub top!kirishima + power bottom!reader,   heavy!praise kink, heavy!miss + mommy kink, unprotected sex ( wrap it before you tap it, kids ), oral ( female receiving ), squirting, tummy bulges, cumplay, creampie.

♡ author’s note(s): hihi everyone!! today i present to you my contribution to the bnharem on the job collab! i had a lot of fun playing with different dyanimics in this fic, i hope you enjoy it nonetheless!! make sure you chek out the other works from the other amazing creators!! <3

♡ masterlist | requests | kofi

“oi! ‘shima! you’re needed in the boss’ office right away, she’s got important business for ya!, wants t’have a word. now.”

eijirou ducks his head politely in a sign of gratitude, thanking his co-worker and superior, keigo— for the heads up. keigo, or better known as hawks around the office ( for his fast speeds in completing work and luring lonely interns into his bed ), was a nice guy— second to the lady in charge and way too chatty. he was a bit of an air head, got the job done when it needed to be but that’s what kirishima was for, the replacement while keigo took his vacation time in the middle of the year like an idiot.

he wasn’t too sure why you kept the blonde around, he supposed it was because he was pretty but eijirou wouldn’t dare question you— he needed this internship if he was going to make it big in the sports news reporting scene. he’d been majoring in sports and healthcare at college, two years away from graduating when the opportunity to work for yn ln, one of the biggest sports journalists in japan had landed right in his lap. of course he was going to take it, of course he was going to do everything he could not to fuck it up.

in the cubicles beside him, the other interns try to muffle their giggles and titters of curious laughter as the red head gathers himself for the meeting.

“oooo, i wonder what you did this time,” kaminari teases from the right, leaning over his side of the cubicle to fiddle with the odd bits on kirishima’s desk. denki kaminari was another person kirishima wondered how the hell he got into the programme, but then again he was pretty to look at and brought a lighter air to boring office days.

“nothing! i’m innocent!” eijirou defends, hands releasing his files to fly up in defence.

the other interns, going by the names of mina ashido, kyouka jirou and hanta sero snicker amongst themselves at the interaction.

“don’t believe it, s’obviously more than nothin’ if you’re always getting called down’ta the boss lady’s office.” bakugou, another intern, grunts out with his nose deep buried in files for upcoming reports. he was a little too rough for the journalism lifestyle but got the job done. his attitude wasn’t for everyone. “they’re probably fuckin’.”

mina giggles and kirishima steps out into the paths between desks. “don’t be such a sourpuss ‘suki, just ‘cause you’re not her favourite.”

a lose ‘shut up’ is huffed, before katsuki turns to face his taller, buffer companion. “just don’t be late, bunch of us are goin’ for lunch later.” he adds and turns back to his paperwork.

“affirmative, catch ya later!”

the group waves the red head off as he heads to the elevator directing him to the main floor— this is where all the higher ups worked. the journey wasn’t unfamiliar to the intern, he wasn’t like the others and had the steps to your office memorised by heart. sometimes it was like walking home, to his comfort and sanctuary away from the stressors of work and the outside world— he knew that was bad, but you were so kind, such a sweet and understanding boss he couldn’t help but develop some level of comfort towards you.

to most, it seemed like eijirou kirishima was just unbelievably close to his boss, that you’d taken him under your wing.

he however, knew what you had, meant more.

a fluttering warmth spreads across the intern’s chest as he approaches the door to your main office and he knocks. behind it lay mountains of secrets upon secrets, things that kirishima knows about you that no one else does. the walls have hidden words, written across them in fonts of passion and admiration and it’s all that he can think about. you’re all that he can think about, and it’s still wrong. there’s a shuffling deep in the room and some flitters of paper here and there before your soft, velveteen voice breaks through the barrier between you. the one thing keeping you apart.

“come in,” you call smoothly and kirishima follows your orders swiftly, if not eagerly, entering the four walls of your office. ruby eyes dart across the room to locate your position and his heart skips a beat when he finds you, body leaning over your dark oak desk, papers scattered across it while you frantically sift through numbers and stocks and nonsense way above the level of a journalism intern. but even amongst the chaos, you’re beautiful— eyes sparkling with productivity, lined in little flecks across the colour of your orbs. the way you dress never fails to steal away eijirou’s breath— a tight fitting leather skirt that hugs your mature curves and a white blouse with the bottoms popped open— just enough for him to get a peek at your cleavage.

the poor intern has to hold himself back from blurring the lines of work and pleasure to shove himself deep into your chest, suck and lick at your plush breasts until he was high off the taste of your skin. but he wouldn’t do that, yet. not without your permission. “oh eiji baby, there you are!” you coo to the red head, bright smile stretching across blood diamond painted lips. you cross the room in three short strides, tall black heels clacking against the smooth white marble until you’re standing in front of and looking up at kirishima. “was starting to think keigo had ditzed like a pretty boy and had forgotten to send you my way, darling.”

eijirou’s cheeks flame at the smoothness in your syrupy voice, like sweet honey to his hears, the pet name striking a familiar heat deep within him. you always had a way with your words— enticing, almost like a siren calling out to him despite the taboo aura that surrounded what you had. whatever it was— he just knew it was more than your typical boss-intern relationship.

“even if he had, ‘m more than happy to be of service to you ma’am,” he responds almost a little too quickly, large hand rubbing the back of his neck and tugging at his baby hairs to ground himself.

you cock your head, eyes sparkling with mischief. “always such a helpful, good boy eijirou,” you hum, lips pulling into a devilish red smile and the praise causing a new spark of lustful electricity to crackle through the air. “i could use a little assistance, please, i have this awful meeting with the board today, spent all night preparing and couldn’t go home, i could use some stress relief,”

kirishima’s gaze becomes hooded as he looks down at you, a familiar and bright desire burning in the pits of his stomach. “oh yeah? sucks that the paperwork kept you up all night ma’am…” he trails off, choosing to let his fingers dance up and down your sides— snaking an arm around your waist to pull you into him. you couldn’t or you wouldn’t go home. he’s not sure if he cares about the answer right now— not when you tremble in his grip, itching for something, anything from him. “how long do you reckon we have ms. ln?”

“ten to fifteen minutes sweetheart, give or take,”

you grin widens, taking an impossibly closer step to your intern— pressing the swell of your breasts against his hard chest. he can feel your nipples pebbling through your blouse, almost visible behind the white fabric and god the way you look up at him— he can no longer wait, he needs you. right here and right now.

“will you be needing my assistance throughout, ma’am?” kirishima asks, voice dropping a few octaves until it falls into a low growl.

“i expect it. you are my intern after all.”

the words laced with deep huskiness, the proximity of your bodies and the rising heat in the room is what leads you both to tumble into the next series of events. before he can’t register it, your mouths are slotted together in a fast paced and sloppy kiss, kirishima’s body manoeuvres you around the office, marking out a familiar pathway to your desk—his tongue remains sliding over yours in rapid movements as he commits your taste to memory, refreshing those from the last time he had you like this. yet every time you kiss and his tongue glides over yours, you taste sweeter than before; like peaches and morning coffee— you feel softer in his grip, every dip and curve to your body like it was built for him.

eijirou can't stop thinking of that last time, tucked away in your office after dark when your dainty hands pawed desperately at his hips to bring him closer or scratched at his back from sheer pleasure— kirishima wants to see you like that against, using his own hands to tear through your shirt and send buttons flying across the room. something in him just wants to do good for you, have you ache for him and earn himself some of your sweet praise. even as you step and stumble towards your work desk, the red-head lets his lips break away from yours, connected by a string of your own saliva before he drops to your neck, lapping tracks over your skin with the temptation to bite down and paint it shades of deep purple and blue.

but there are rules that you both have in place; ways to keep what you have a secret and hidden away from the public eye so that you don’t lose all that you’ve worked for and so kirishima can keep being your precious little intern.

“jump for me, please ma’am,” he whispers heavily into the junction between your neck and your shoulders, breath laboured and warm against your skin that begins to shine with light perspiration. mindlessly, you follow his orders, jumping up while your fingers curl into the mass of red on kirishima’s head and ankles lock around his waist—his hands meet the backs of your doughy thighs, squeezing the flesh between calloused digits while you toe off your heels.

“eiji, you’re so good,” you manage between feather light breaths as they clatter to the floor as the pair of you somehow make your way to the desk chair, pushing and tearing the clothes from one another’s bodies— including your crisp shirt. now seated and left in nothing but your bra, you tug harshly at your intern’s locks and bring his mouth down to yours, allowing them to move together in a dirty, messy kiss. there’s barely any time for you both to mess around, for him to tease you until your limit and you’re crying out for any type of touch from him, so eijirou quickly

flips down your bra, exposing your chest to cool, air conditioned air—not even bothering to unclip the material as his fingers descend on your nipple, pulling and twisting them until your back arches from the stimulation. “hurry, please eijirou,”

obedient as ever, your favourite boy drops to his knees in front of the chair you stay slumped in and with his height, he still manages to tower over you, practically at eye level with hunger framing the ruby of his own. large hands knead at your plush thighs, hiking your skirt up and up to give you room to spread your thighs, cunt growing sticky from anticipation— all from a few measly touches in familiar places. but this is kirishima, and he knows how your body works from countless hours spent after the office closes up— using one another to blow off extra steam. he knows just what makes you tick and moan his name.

logically, eijirou knows that your meeting could start at any minute and even though you’re both in a stickler for time, he still wants to get a taste at your skin before devouring your most intimate parts. he’ll make time to explore every part of you, to assist you in your stress relief. “‘m sorry miss, yn,” he whines needily, watching your chest rise and fall with want, feeling your body heat up and twitch from the ghost of his fingertips across your blemished skin. “gotta have a taste of you before the real deal, hope’ya don’t mind…”

latching onto the left mound of flesh at your exposed chest, kirishima sinks the point of his teeth into the area around your nipple— just enough to graze your skin and pull a sweet mewl from your mouth. you’re both lucky for the soundproof walls, your head thrown back in a lewd moan he lets his pink tongue roll over your bud in vicious circles. heavy, fat globs of saliva pool over the pink muscle, pouring down kirishima’s chin and painting your skin with a slick shine. “h-how...how could i mind angel, not when you treat me s’good,” you heave, vision fading in and out due to the overwhelming amount of pleasure flashing through your body in waves of hotness. “always doin’ so well for me eiji, aren’t you such a good boy?”

“yes ma’am,” the intern confirms with a erogenous slur, pacified and content on his knees for you— sucking, licking and biting at your chest to his heart’s content. “‘m your good boy,” he corrects you, however. eijirou feels most happy when grazing his tongue over the swell of your breasts, watching your face carefully for any twitches of delirium, it lets him know how hot aroused he makes you feel— that knowledge shoots straight to his cock, rock hard in his slacks while the redhead watches his boss writhe in her seat all for his eyes only.

such a dazzling view, and it’s all for fucking him.

your perfectly manicured nails run through red hair, scratching deliciously at his scalp until you’re forcing his head back and pulling kirishima off of your breast with a pop. “as much as i love seeing a pretty boy suck on my tits like a baby, we’re pressed for time angel, gonna need you to speed it up a little,” despite the softness to your face and the sudden evenness to the tone of your voice, the words that you speak to eijirou are vulgar, nasty, and turn him on to his wits end. “want you to eat me out eiji, can you do that for me?”

shaking his head, yes, beautiful claret eyes shining with acquiescence, kirishima wipes the spit from his chin with the back of his hand— like the tainted, dirty intern he is. you sigh down at him salaciously, ready to tear his innocence apart all over again. eijirou was always so willing to please, both in his work and behind closed doors— you would be a fool to not take advantage of that. with brute force, your intern forces your legs apart, eyes rolling back in his skull from the scent of your sex, dripping with your juices right through your underwear and stockings. overexcited, he rips through the flimsy material at your cunt, exposing your panties for him to see.

“you’re so...so wet ms.ln,” kirishima comments observantly, not even bothering to pull your stockings the rest of the way down your legs, instead opting to pull on the whole until it’s wide enough for his mouth to fit. “smell s’good, bet you taste even better,” there’s a patch on the crotch of your panties, darker than the rest of the material from where you leak and without a second thought, the red head instantly surges forward to lick a stripe over it, letting out a choked gripe as the taste of your cream from over the fabric invades his tongue.

you let out a shrill cry, hips jumping up at the first brush of his tongue against your untouched, clothed pussy. you wriggle even as kirishima holds you down, needing the heat of his mouth against you before your meeting starts. but he’s so good, so well trained, reaching up to your hips to yank your panties down in one fluid motion. leaning forward, kirishima savagely buries his face between your doughy thighs, hiking them over his shoulders from beneath the desk. his nose bumps against your clit, swollen from the lack of touch as he greedily inhales your scent once more— without warning, the intern kicks a stripe up the length of your pussy, sucking your juices into his mouth and smiling against your heat.

“d-don’t tease baby, be good for me,” you remind kirishima, your body trembles with anticipation, craving an orgasm to expel the stress of your work days out. the boy between your legs only hums, the sound running straight though cunt and vibrating against it, causing you to gush and spill your arousal out onto the leather seat beneath your cheeks. eijirou feasts on the slick that seeps from your fluttering hole, gliding his tongue up and down your sex, allowing the occasional pressure from his nose to stimulate your bundle of nerves.

the pads of his thighs burn marks into your legs, using them as leverage to pull your heated core further into his mouth, “can’t help it ma’am, y’got such a pretty pussy...s’only right that i worship you…” eijirou breaths right against your puffy folds, eyes trained on the way your hole clenches around nothing. a primal urge flares in his chest, a desire— no, a need— to see you filled with something, any part of him that can make you see stars and fuck you dumb. “‘m sorry, ‘m sorry you jus look s’fucking pretty miss…”

attaching his lips to your clit, the redhead pushes the spit gathered on his tongue right over your sloppy sit, hazy ruby stare watching as his saliva mixes with your juices and slides over your empty hole. he follows the oozing trail with his tongue, lapping it up and spewing it back into your sex until the pink muscle slips past your entrance— slipping inside of you with no prior warnings. your knuckles that grasp the arms of the chair as you’re spoiled between your legs by your top intern, his hands snaking their way around the tops of your thighs to spread your sticky pussy lips apart in order to bring more of you to the cool air of the office.

“you like this don’cha? dirty little boy,” you tease the poor boy, watching as his cheeks flame with embarrassment. “being a naughty little intern between your boss’ thighs all to keep on pleasing  her, keep your position at her company, huh? fuck eiji, you just love miss riding your naughty tongue—ohmygod—“

the way you sound, voice smooth like chocolate over the obscene slurping that fills the thats air heavy with the scent of sex and, makes eijirou’s cock jump up, precum oozing from his tip as he begins to rut against the hard floor beneath your desk. he makes an attempt to respond, but your thighs lock his head in place and his words come out muffled against your core. “mph, luh it, you’re s’sexy, please ma’am—“ he mumbles sordidly against you, practically humping the ground at your feet as you pick on him.

for a brief moment, kirishima pulls away to watch you roll your hips into nothing, hot tears beginning to brew into our hooded eyes from the satisfaction he brings you with every flick and flit of his tongue against where you need him most. written in your eyes is the command to keep going, your hands twistingly sharply in red roots to bring the intern back to your sluice, spasming cunt. so he does as he’s told, shoving his tongue deep inside your ribbed, iron hot walls and dragging tip along them to collect and taste strings of your viscous juices.

biting your lip, you do your best to hold back a voracious howl, bucking your hips feverishly into your intern’s face and staining his cheeks with everything that you have— he thrusts his tongue into you to the pace of your own hips, moaning against your slippery slit until your eyes are rolling. “gonna cum from this eiji, from you eatin’ me out like this...jus need a little more— need your fingers pretty boy,” you can feel the twist of the knot in your lower tummy starting to unravel, signifying your oncoming high, and the room starts to spin while kirishima eats you out with new vigour.

“yeah? miss? you’re gonna cum for me?” the intern practically whines and pulls his tongue from your hear, almost crying as his hips thump against the floor desperate for friction. “wanna see you come undone s’bad, please cum for me, please, please—“ eijirou chants, replacing his tongue with two of his thick digits, watching as your slick cunt stretches around them accommodatingly. he jackhammers them inside of you, grunting lowly underneath the slaps of his palm against the meat of your ass, as he returns to your clit to suckle on it hungrily. his fingers curl instantly in search for the spongy spot inside of you— bearing down hard against it once it’s located.

“oh—hah, right there baby— right fuckin’ there—!” you squeal, only egging him on as white starts to cloud your vision, everything sounds so nasty and wet, while eijirou stimulates both of your pleasure spots. it becomes hard to breath, legs wobbling around his broad shoulders, but your intern doesn’t let up, determined to bring you to cloud nine.

“that’s it ma’am, right there—you’re almost there, can feel you clenching around my fingers...please cum, fuck i want your cum, wanna taste you so bad, cum. cum. cum!” and that’s all it takes, eijirou’s pleading voice between your thick thighs to make the coil inside you snap and for your orgasm to wash over you. you convulse in your chair, nectar gushing freely from your raw and overstimulated cunt, spewing all over the redheads face as he continued to lap at your clit to ride out your high.

but he doesn’t stop there, scissoring his fingers deep within your velvet walls as you continue to cum, making you shake your head and wail from the high levels of ecstasy.

“please eiji—n’more, can’t, no—“

“you can miss, i know you can—fuck you look so pretty when you’re about to squirt for me, please…”

as quickly as your first high ended, another one comes crashing over you in harsh waves— rocking your world as clear liquid floods from your pussy— the sheer force of you squirting, pushing kirishima’s fingers out from your tight, sappy hole. your release hits the floor with a crude slap, both of you moaning loudly almost for the whole world to hear. he doesn’t stop sucking, clearing up your pretty cunt even as you fade in and out of consciousness from pleasure— he stays lapping at you with burning, languid strokes of his tongue between your folds even as you weakly attempt to answer the phone now ringing from your desk.

clearing your throat, you muster up the strength to sound professional over the line before picking up the phone and bringing it towards your ear. “good afternoon, this is yn ln of shinku sports reports, bringing you the latest sporting news, how may i help you?”

‘this is the board, we need to discuss this month's stocks and reports.’

from the corner of your eye, you can see kirishima rise from his place underneath your desk— standing tall over you once more while you converse with the directors on the other end of the phone. as quietly as he can, the redhead tears through the buttons on his shirt in a similar way to you, prior to you fucking and unbuckles his slacks. he pulls down his boxers and pants in one go, revealing his thick, hard girth that stands tall and slaps against his stomach— tip an angry shade of red as precum smears across his lower belly.

you nod into the phone, forgetting that the board can’t see you as kirishima lifts you from the chair and lays you on your back across the desk littered with unread papers. “ah yes, i’ve been expecting a call from you…” you whisper so quietly instead, not caring if they’ve missed what you said. you’re hardly paying attention, choosing to wrap a fist around eijirou’s cock, slickly pumping him to prepare him to take you— he parts your thighs, eyes closing and body shuddering above you while you continue to converse with the board.

spreading the droplets of precum across his slit and iron hot tip, kirishima takes his cock from your grasp— heavily slapping it against your sensitive and swollen clit to see you jolt up the desk. “gonna fuck you so good miss, jus’ be good ‘n stay quiet for me okay?” he says, a whimper catching in the tail end of his words. you nod to him, rushed and way too eager, laying your head back on the hard wood your swimming gaze settles on kirishima as he taps the head of his cock against your hole, teasingly pushing it just past your entrance before withdrawing again.

‘ms. ln, are you still there? we really are pressed for time so we would love to start by discussing interviews for the next issue—‘

you forget that you’re still connected on the line, settling for wriggling impatiently underneath your intern, who’s caramel tinted skin glistens with sweat and his cheeks begin to flush with unadulterated desire— all from watching the way your puffy folds lube up his shaft with every push through them. you can see him losing his resolve, just as sensitive as you since he’s been holding back an orgasm and without the hint of a warning, eijirou’s hips jump forward and drive his cock into the deepest parts of your sex— brushing against your cervix. you gasp out in surprise, finally losing focus and barely manage a more comprehensive response to the board you have waiting on the line. “y-yes!— yes, yes, i’m still here… you may proceed with the meeting.”

he’s big, bigger than anyone you’ve ever had— and you’d seen a lot being a woman of your caliber this high up in the industry...but no one could compare to the way your sweet, doe eyed gentlemanly little intern filled you up, fat cock stretching your walls even with the shallow thrusts into your cunt he gives you to adjust. the weight of his girth sits heavily inside you, twitching as kirishima slides into you easily due to the stickiness lining your gummy walls, breath shaky and uneven as he holds out for you during this time. you can tell the poor boy isn’t going to last long, fingers sinking into your thighs with a harsh grip while he tries to hold himself back.

such a good boy, always waiting for your every command.

‘so we’d like to talk about the main feature for next month’s issue, do you have anyone in mind?’

the monotone voice of the board member is drowned about by kirishima’s shaky breaths above you, his pleading puppy dog eyes while he stills himself inside your spasming, puckered hole— he waits for permission, following orders like a trained pet even though he can hardly stand it, overwhelmed by the flutter of your sex around him and heat from your body despite thrown over the desk. “y-you’re s’warm...god ma’am...need to—need to move,” the redhead huffs weakly in order to keep himself quiet, a line of sweat dotting his brow. “please,”

you sit up on the desk, legs locking around his slender waist to draw him closer, sheathing more of the poor boy inside of you until he’s completely bottomed out and balls deep inside your pretty cunt. he drops his neck to your shoulder, tongue lolling over your salt licked skin before biting down to pacify himself, sharp teeth almost drawing blood while you adjust the cord of the phone. “i was thinking…thinking that we got the hockey player— the oylmpic champion…” your eyes drift to kirishima’s complacent face, giving him a nod to start moving while he sucks another bruise further down his onto your collarbone. “t-touya...touya todoroki—!”

you hiccup but play it off with a cough when kirishima pulls back his hips, so far that his girth completely leaves you, before he drives himself forward with one powerful thrust and fills you right up again. looking down, you see him bulge in your tummy, the line of his girth prominent against your body— slightly dwarfed in kirishima’s arms. you rock your hips, coaxing your intern into your warmth to help him build up a momentum of thrusts.

‘sounds like a good choice, do we have anyone who could interview him? i believe we can have PR set up an interview this week.’

the desk creaks below you, hard wood groaning along with the red head who hides himself in your neck, squeaking pathetically as he moves inside of you— precum smearing along your gummy walls that welcome his hardened shaft. your pussy opens up for eijirou like it’s welcoming him home, still growing used to the pleasure-filled burn and stretch of him pushing in and out of you. the nerves on his head catch amongst your inner ridges, making his toned body shake in ecstasy.

“m-ma’am, feel s’fucking good, so fucking good...” your intern hums against your salty skin mawkishly, large palms dropping to the flesh of your ass— kneading it to bring you closer to his body— cock barely leaving you due to your proximity. with slow strokes, eijirou fills you up, painting you with what leaks from his tip— prodding at your cervix and brushing up against your sweet spot in ways that make sweet nectar dribble from your hole.

your digits curl in his hair once more, the phone slipping from between your neck and creating rustling on your end. “eijirou,” you sigh breathily, humping back his cock while you squeeze around him selfishly, keeping your intern inside of you. “i-i mean eijirou kirishima, he’s an intern— such a… a good one at that…”

a immodest whimper brews in the base of eijirou’s throat, bubbling against his bruised lips  while you shower him with praise, indirect to him, hand snaking up to the back of your neck— tangling in your baby hairs as he pulls you up to a sloppy kiss, slotting your mouths together and running his tongue over yours. “f-fuck mommy, ‘m i your good boy? please tell me yes, fuck, yn— ma’am,”

kirishima’s voice rises in octave as it does devoir and pathos, vulnerability stays written across his handsome features as he succumbs to the mind break the heat of your damp, creamy core as he fucks into you. you throb at his use of mommy, shakily pulling the phone away from your ear to reach up to his own, nipping the earlobe and tugging on it gently. “you’re my good boy baby, keep being good eiji, be quiet...you gotta stay quiet if you want to keep fucking mommy okay? you wanna cum inside me right?” you say, words aberrant and low toned  on your tongue, your intern hisses and whines in response— nodding his head again and letting out a barely coherent ‘yes’. “then shh, baby, let mommy talk yeah?”

“hm’kay,” he babbles, dropping his ruby framed gaze to where your bodies meet, hiking your skirt further up your thighs to get a better view of your cunt staining his heavy balls with a layer of your slick.

‘ms. ln, are you sure that you want an intern to cover this case—’ the board begins to ask you, muffled from the distance away from you both.

picking up the phone again, you pull the line towards you again— mindful of capturing eijirou’s weak little mewls over the device as he languidly pumps himself in and out of you. “i know what i—fuck, what i want. eijirou, will be—oh— on the case. that's final.” you huff, watching your intern fall into a pussyhaze, his precious mind fogging with thoughts of only painting you white inside and out as a reward for helping relieve you of stress. the slow roll of his hips into yours are accompanied by the soft slaps of his skin against your own, wet and sticky— determination to make you feel good crackling across his mind.

‘there’s no need to curse, ma’am, do you need a moment to recollect yourself before we proceed with discussing the other features.’

“i’m fucking fine,” you growl, in anger or need you don’t know. but kirishima frowns, you can feel it as he start nosing up your cheek— swiping his tongue over areas of skin he hasn’t touched just yet— he grunts possessively , unhappy with the use of your title coming from anyone other than him. to prove his point, he pushes your thighs wider apart, letting you drip all over the documents sitting below your ass and ruining the ink— important or not he starts a brutal pace into your cunt and presses down on your tummy so you can feel exactly where eijirou is inside you and know that only he can make you feel this way.

‘ms.ln—‘

“i’m fine. keep going.” you grit your teeth, biting your lip to hold down your panting— again you don’t know who you’re speaking to. your intern who slows the movement of his hips, postponing in and out of your tightened hole, clamping down on him eagerly or the stupid board member giving you grief on the phone.

they proceed to talk, barking out suggestions to your sports magazine, that you hate— even considering bringing in good for nothing athletes who’d treated you like shit in the past, and you’d sworn to never work for them again.

but it’s almost silly, how kirishima lets out small moans of mommy and ma’am, trying to keep your attention on him like you would give up grinding down on your intern’s dick for some prissy member of the board over the phone— but you love the slight possession eijirou has over you, moulding your iron hot walls into the shape of his fat dick that presses up against your pleasure spots, makes you convulse and drawl and become addicted to everything that is him. eijirou kirishima.

“takin’ me so good, so well ma’am...don’t think i can hold on anymore…please,” eijirou warns you, losing control of his body as he takes you for his own like he’s done many times before after hours— your gazes lock, you can see his desperation to ruin you, moan for you despite the people on the phone and the people outside your office.

if he grows too loud, he could give you away— they could be listening in to your poor needy little intern humping you like a feral dog and whining your name. and as much as that thought makes your hole spasm around his fat cock, make his thrusts stutter and eyes screw shut while you moan in sweet, almost silent harmony, you love your job and so weakly, you take two of your fingers, shoving them deep into eijirou’s mouth as it hangs open in heavy pants of warm air. you press down on his wet tongue, fucking into his mouth in tune with the pace of his hips plunging deep within your walls, churning up your syrupy and sticky insides.

“keep quiet, baby,”  you hiss to the redhead, who’s eyes start to brim with fresh hot tears from the overwhelming pleasure. “let mommy take care of this, yeah? finish up so you can let it all out on me.”

he sucks on your fingers to calm himself down, shallow breathing while he paws at the flesh on your sides and circles his hips into yours— letting his leaky tip bare down on your sweet spot and forcing the air out of your body. white hot pleasure flashes through your bloodstream, replacing any air of professionalism flooding through them. you can’t, you physically cannot hold back either of your orgasms— you can’t concentrate as your mind starts to fall away with the world and your gaze hones in on the way kirishima takes your fingers in his hot mouth so deep in an attempt to hush himself.

the coil in your tummy begins to unwind and the room swims once more. ‘ms.ln is everything okay over there— we need to progress with his meeting if we’re—‘ the annoying board member sounds underneath kirishima’s sloppy groans, saliva dribbling down the sides of his mouth. your dirty, good boy.

“i’m going to need to take a rain—hah— a rain check on this meeting. you’ll hear from me when my interns and i are ready—“ you huff, cutting the staff off and quickly throwing the phone onto the hook, you’ll have keigo deal with the consequences later but for now you focus on kirishima who picks you up by the ass, lifting you up and down on his cock in frantic movements as he finally loses all connections to his control. “ohmygod—eiji baby, slow—fuck, down—“

he shakes his head, latching onto your collar bone as he revels in the way you leak down his shaft and drip between his balls, lewd squelching sounds fluttering through the air hot, sex scented air at full volume. “‘m sorry ma’am— i can’t… i’m really close, i really need’ta cum...please ma’am...mommy, i’ve been good—please let me cum...“ eijirou groans heartily, from deep in his chest as if he’s finally releasing what he’s been holding back— arms flexing and the sweat from his body slicking up your own.

limbs shaking you wrap your arms around his shoulders and press your foreheads against one another, while you nod. he worked so hard to make you feel good, all day long to do the best job that he can— pressing small kisses to his lips encouragingly. “you can do it baby, one last thing for me— fill me up eiji, cum for me.” you whisper between bites and sucks on his lower lip, lined with a vibrant shade of red.

“cummin’, cummin’...miss yn, mommy—!” and then his hips come to a halt, his dick pulsing as waves of his cream line your insides with an opaque white, thick and seeping down your thighs. his fingers drop to your sensitive cunt, slipping quick circles over your swollen clit to bring you to your high. his cock never stops pumping in and out of you, pushing his seed further into your sex while you writhe and fall over the edge into your orgasm— gushing so hard you force him out of plugged and full hole.

losing his strength, kirishima collapses on top of you, pressing out both to the hard wood seat which you’re surprised  is still standing, his lips pressing fleeting kisses across your face and neck while you both come back down to earth.

and then he looks up at you with a weak smile, “did i do good?” he asks you lazily and almost sleepily— refusing to budge from laying atop you and almost crushing you with his weight.

pushing back his hair to soothe him. “always eiji, you’re not my favourite intern for nothing,” you coo at him, pulling him up to press your lips to him in a soft kiss.

“i sure hope you don’t have any other favourites, i want to be the only one who assists you like this,” kirishima says, remaining tangled with you for a moment more in your office, content with snuggling into your exposed and bruised side.

you share a sleepy giggle, intending to clean up later— eijirou completely forgetting about the lunch he’d promised the other interns after your meeting.

oh well, assisting you was a much better treat than spending time with any one else.

[one-boring-person]

Just Like Old Times.

Lyutsifer Safin (James Bond: No Time To Die) x reader

Warnings: injury detail, gun use, blood, swearing

Context: a car chase ends badly for the reader (or does it?)

A/n: I might do a part two to this, but I'm not sure yet. Let me know what you think!

Masterlist

Horns blare as I weave past the cars lining the road, tyres screeching as brakes are pulled to avoid me. Ahead of me, motorists are spinning out on the road, forced into wild manoeuvres to avoid the fleeing car plowing through them, making my life harder as I struggle to navigate the safest route. Beneath me, the motorcycle roars, engine easily powering the lighter vehicle past the others around me, vibrations flowing from the seat and handlebars into my body, each twist of my hand on the accelerator accentuating this. 

Through my helmet visor, I keep an eye on my target, judging my best course of action. 

On a flat straight, or even a more winding road, my bike can easily catch up to the black SUV currently disrupting the traffic flow ahead of me, the smaller vehicle simply built to be more dynamic in this way. Even with other people to manoeuvre around, it can probably keep up, but the chaotic mess of cars in my path are making it hard to remain in sight, the rear end of the SUV swiftly disappearing around a corner some way ahead. 

Cursing, I glance around, swerving sharply to avoid a spinning car, heart pounding with adrenaline as it narrowly misses me. Thankfully, I right myself before anything happens, but the distraction has lost me my sight on the target completely. Gritting my teeth, I rev the engine and speed forward, spotting a new alley to cut into. Throwing the bike into a harsh turn, I start off down the quieter road, hoping this comes out somewhere useful.

"Delta, what the hell is going on?!" The voice in my earpiece interrupts me, my mission commander demanding answers yet again.

"Just taking a shortcut, sir." I growl back, concentrating on avoiding the few people traipsing through the alley, my urgency lending me speed as I thunder past the confused civilians.

"Well, hurry up. We haven't got all day." He replies, impatient as always.

"Yes sir."

I hear him cut the connection decisively, the man annoyed with me as usual. Rolling my eyes, I continue on, noticing a sudden turn-off ahead. Slamming on the brake, I fight against the bike's forward motion, spinning the handlebars to face the new direction, kicking it into a wheel-spin start. 

Too late, I realise there are stairs at the end of this alley, hundreds of them leading up towards what I presume is a main road, blocking my path. Unable to slow, I swiftly try to figure something out, glad to see a flat wall beside them. 

Drawing closer, I jerk the motorbike over towards a nearby front step, the leading wheel bouncing up enough to catch on the wall, the bike speeding upwards now. Revving the engine, I lean down on the bike, hoping to give myself added aerodynamicness, the vehicle reaching speeds I've never even tried before as I carry on up, racing towards the end of the wall. My pulse pounds deafeningly in my ear as I approach, my hands tightening on the handlebars nervously.

Seconds later, the bike springs into the air, arcing up over the busy road. Instantly, I see my target again, the SUV nearby as I remain momentarily airborne. 

It's not long for the bike to come hurtling towards the ground, my stomach dropping as it does, my knees braced for impact. Pain erupts in my lower back as I hit the ground, the bike jerking dangerously underneath me, slowing my progress temporarily. I recover quickly, however, drawing my sidearm as I head off in hot pursuit again. 

The first shot goes wide, pedestrians screaming around me now as I fire at the fast-moving car. The second, however, strikes the wing mirror, smashing it to smithereens. A glow of triumph starts to build within me, only to give way to confusion and panic as a shot is fired at me. Not from my target.

From somewhere behind me.

Eyes wide, I twist my head to look back, narrowly missing a second shot as it skims past my helmet, swiftly finding my new pursuer. A convoy of three black four-by-fours have fallen into formation behind me, three gunmen hanging out of each one, firing at me with well-placed shots.

Cursing, I turn back, only to find that I'm being shot at from ahead now, too, leaving me in serious danger. Ducking down in my seat, I wrack my head for a new plan, only to look up again as I'm interrupted by the low thumping sound of helicopter rotors somewhere above me. I swiftly locate the looming aircraft, adrenaline exploding within me.

Aware now that I'm in deep trouble, I spot a turn off nearby, heading down it even as a storm of bullets continues to pelt the air around me, miraculously remaining clear of me. All except one, which slams into my left shoulder, hot blood quickly pouring from the new wound as splitting pain explodes in the area. Crying out, I holster my sidearm and take the handlebars again, using my right to steer more than my left, the agony rendering the arm almost useless. Trying to ignore the pain, I look back to the road, almost sobbing in relief as I see it's a road out of town, headed out onto the familiar shrub-covered meadows bordering looming pine forests typical to the Alpine scenery. It's dangerous to be so exposed but it's a risk I'll take.

Bullets continue to tear past me, grazing the bike now as I head out onto the grassland, aiming for the forest at its end, zigzagging to avoid being hit so easily. It's painful, but it works; no more bullets lodge themselves in me. Above me, the helicopter continues to circle, the inhabitants never firing a shot.

I'm thankful for the cover as I breach the treeline, the smaller bike much more able to navigate the narrow spaces than the larger SUVs. The relief, however, is short lived.

Behind me, I can already hear the tell-tale roar of motorcycle engines, the back up arriving swiftly to round me up.

Gritting my teeth, I concentrate on dodging in between the close-packed trees, body jostling all over the place as the bike skips over rocks and tree branches, thankfully able to stay upright even at this speed. Branches swat me as I thunder past, leaving strips of stinging skin in their wakes, making it harder for me to see as they slap at my visor. Dirt spits up around me, the tyres churning it up in places as they eat up the ground beneath them. 

Internally, I'm incredibly grateful for the adrenaline racing through my system, aware that without it I would've collapsed by now, my shoulder throbbing dully as blood continues to soak my dark jacket. I'll need to find shelter soon, or I won't be able to survive this mission, the blood loss already starting to make my vision swim a little.

Roaring motorcycle engines shake me from my thoughts, the vehicles much closer than I thought they'd be, startling me as two appear either side of me. Eyes widening, I instantly duck down into my seat, trying to avoid gunfire, until I realise there is, in fact, none being aimed at me. Confused, I stay down, glancing between the two motorcyclists as I try to swerve in between the trees, unsure of what to do.

A sudden, jarring impact throws me off course. The bike leaps forwards, the front wheel catching as I instinctively press the brakes, the back wheel lifting into the air as it continues trying to move. Not quite expecting this, I feel myself dislodged, my body flying over the handlebars wildly, slamming, hard, into a tree trunk ahead of me. Agony explodes in my back, spreading quickly to my head as the bike crashes into me, knocking painfully against my helmet. My vision flashes, dark spots swimming across my eyes as I slump down under the crashed bike, head spinning, disoriented and bloody.

Silence seems to ensue as I lie there, sure the men are going to leave me here to die. Blood gathers in my mouth, my teeth having wreaked havoc on the soft tissue surrounding them when the bike had careened into my face, though I am unable to spit it out due to the presence of my helmet. Instead, I let it collect, unwilling to move at all.

Surprisingly, the men don't leave me. A few moments pass and I feel a pair of hands on my shoulders, yanking me from my haphazard position against the tree. Unable to muster a groan, I let whoever it is manhandle me, gasping at the unbearable pain spreading through me. I'm not entirely conscious as they drag me some distance, the uneven ground scraping over my already painful back, small sounds escaping me. The hands under my shoulders have doubled now, supporting my weight even as one presses into my wound, blood staining their palm and fingers for sure.

What feels like an age later I am yanked onto my knees, held loosely in place by my captors as I'm turned to face someone. Blearily, I look up at them through my shattered visor, only to have my head jerked forwards as someone rips my helmet from my head, leaving me blinking. Blood spills from my lips, dripping down onto my chin as I look up at my captor, a cold bolt of dread flooding through me as I realise exactly who it is.

"We really must stop meeting like this." His hypnotic voice dances in my ears, entrancing yet dangerous whenever he speaks.

Forcing a rugged grin, I stare up at the scarred man above me.

"When you stop trying to kill me, maybe we will." I somehow manage to reply, my own voice rough and raspy, broken from the blood in my throat.

A cold smile pulls at Safin's lips as he regards me, clear eyes staring down at me with a forced emotionlessness. As usual, not a hair is out of place on the man, each raven strand meticulously pushed into its smart style, swept back from his chiselled face. His deep blue clothing, covered momentarily by a sleek brown coat, accentuate the razor-sharp cit of his jawline and features, his well-defined good looks only marred by the terrible scarring branded on his skin, tales of past suffering carved into him for the rest of his life.

He chuckles now, the sound soft and cold.

"I'm not trying to kill you. I'm trying to find you." He tilts his head slightly, "And now I have found you."

I bark out my own humorless laugh, blood spewing from my lips as I do so.

"I would believe you if I didn't feel like I do. Tell me Safin, have you ever been shot?" I arch an eyebrow, "It hurts like a bitch."

His own brow twitches at my use of language.

"These men were told to detain you with the least injury possible. It seems they misunderstood." Safin directs a quietly poisonous look at the henchmen holding me, promises of future punishment making many of them shift in place.

"Yeah, seems so." I scoff, groaning in pain.

Instantly, Safin's attention is back to me. Abruptly, he jerks his head, the men holding me pulling me roughly to my feet, ignoring the grunt that leaves me.

Safin steps closer, eyes roaming over my body now. His gaze is heavy, a blush rising to my cheeks as he lingers over particular areas, his hand slipping out to ghost over the bloody mess on my shoulder. Pulling it away again, I watch as his jaw clenches at the sight of blood coating the bare tip, his eyes fixing on mine. Lifting his hand again, he moves this time to trace my lower lip, collecting more blood, which he inspects and wipes off on my shirt, returning his hand to my face. Goosebumps rise in his wake, my face heating up as he brushes a strand of hair behind my ear, a smirk playing at his lips.

"Come on, (Y/n). I need you to find someone for me." He drags his gaze over my body once more, "After a little respite and...reunion, that is."

I can't help but smirk at the insinuation.

"Just like old times." I reply.

[maraudersftw]

Claudia — this prompt!!!!!!! 💕✨

1. Two characters haven’t seen each other for a while, one keeps rambling about something insignificant and the other one kisses them because “Shut up you’re rambling just kiss me.”

Omg, M, so excited to receive this from you! 😂💜 And I had a blast writing it, so obviously it got long (1.5k words). Thanks for the prompt. Hope you enjoy!

Glittering Darkness

The Butterbeer is a slide of warm froth down his throat, easing up frozen insides brought on by the biting January cold. He smiles, grin stupid on face, hazel eyes bright behind glasses, and listens to Sirius yammer on about Quidditch and teams and players—

“The Canons don’t stand a fucking chance this season, mate,” Sirius repeats for the thousandth time that week, to the audience of Remus’s rolling eyes, Peter’s enraptured gaze and James’s dazed attention. “I have my bet on the Arrows. I mean, have you seen Crossby’s performance lately? Not missed a single bloody snitch so far in. That’s gotta be some kind of record, doesn’t it? Doesn’t it? Oi, Prongs!” he snaps, brows instantly furrowed at not receiving James’s immediate response, no matter that Peter’s vehement nodding probably dislodges the boy’s neck. “Someone throw a Confundus at you? That’s a dumb expression on your face, if I’ve seen one.”

James sighs, leans back, embraces the lovely chatter of his peers around The Three Broomsticks. “I’m just having a good day.”

The boys are instantly suspicious, each choosing to express such emotion with a varying degree of subtlety.

“How come?” Sirius asks, sounding almost put off at not being privy to the answer already.

“Well, I get to spend such a lovely afternoon with you lads. What more could I want?”

“To get laid,” says Sirius, a phrase that is followed immediately by Peter’s loud snort of laughter.

“By a very specific person,” Remus can’t help but add, amusement quirking his mouth in that typical way of his.

“Nonsense,” he waves off, another gulp of Butterbeer tossed back. “I’m perfectly content.”

“Okay, I take it back. It has to be a cheering charm,” Sirius ponders solemnly, just as a group of familiar Gryffindors enters The Three Broomsticks, huddling together as they brush off snow from thick robes and gloves.

Such a sight is by no means a rarity, given that the pub has already been crawling with Hogwarts students since the start of day. But James’s eyes are quick to lock onto a very specific person, a flash of red hair, pink cheeks, bright, bright laughter. No one around him seems to notice the tectonic plates shifting under their feet, nor the way that colour splashes, vibrant and sudden, painting the world afresh. No, they carry on with their conversations and snark as if air hasn’t suddenly become easier to draw in, as if her mere presence hasn’t literally lit up the room. He supposes, after a second of reflection, that she’s indeed his personal cheering charm.

Lily nods to the girls—Mary, Dorcas, Marlene—and points to a booth somewhere at the back. He can’t be arsed to check the exact location; not when it means taking his eyes off a much better alternative. But instead of moving away with them as they take their seats, Lily, curiously enough, breaks off from the group, face blank, easy grace and gait as she meanders off to the loo. Her eyes don’t travel to him, not once.

And yet, James spots that minuscule quirk of lips right before she disappears from view.

Oh.

Very well then.

He’s instantly on his feet, wooden chair scraping back with a loud groan, cutting off Remus mid-speculation as to the reason behind James’s jolly disposition. Three heads turn to him; curious, amused, perhaps even a little concerned.

“Um, you okay, mate?”

“Brilliant,” James replies, feels a thrum of excitement shiver through him, and wonders if it’s openly visible. “Perfectly brilliant. I just need to take a leak.”

“Well, alright, Mr Potter, you’re excused.” Remus laughs.

He takes the time to roll his eyes, but not the effort to dim his smile. It’s probable he looks like a complete loon on a sugar rush, but James truly has never cared about anything less. “Yeah, yeah, have your chuckles, Mr Moony. We’ll see who’s laughing by the end of the day.”

“I genuinely have no idea what you mean, and you sound completely unthreatening with that ridiculous beaming going on.”

James scoffs, walks away from another bout of laughter. “Fuck off.”

The hallway leading to the loos remains mercifully empty; luck that he doesn’t take for granted thanks to the crowd spilling inside the pub. With a quick manoeuvre honed over years of efficient marauding, he pulls out a shrunken invisibility cloak from his robes, enlarges it to its normal size, and disappears beneath the silvery material, feeling its strange softness like a second skin. And then he flattens himself against the wall, scooting around until he’s strategically placed within an alcove near the entrance to the girls’ lavatory—far away enough to give a wide berth to anyone he doesn’t want to alert, but near enough for an encounter with his target.

His target, who he presumes is not nearly as unsuspecting as she’d let on.

It takes only about ten seconds or so before he sees the swish of her robes, witnesses the easy smile on her face as Lily rounds the corner, nose teased red from cold, freckles scattered like stars, and finds the walls of his chest tighten like concrete slabs at the sight.

In a flash of movement, he’s got a hand wrapped around her wrist, sliding to her waist, yanking her firmly against his body without so much as a whispered greeting. Lily’s impulsive screech of surprise dies down the instant the cloak falls over her head, enveloping them both. The tension of her muscles melts away beneath his fingertips, and she’s quick to plant her hands on his chest, brush indelicately closer, space shrinking enough that he tastes the mint on her breath when she speaks.

“Rather indecent of you to accost me like this, Potter.”

He bends down, appreciates the excited gleam in the green of her eyes. His thumb finds her nape, massages gently. “I had something very important to discuss with you.”

“Mm,” Lily purrs. “That’s better. How may I help you?”

“You see,” he starts, chokes slightly when she grinds against him purposefully. “You see, I was just leaving the castle this morning, ready for a lovely outing with my mates, when a witch who looked remarkably like you all but shoved me into a broom closet, declared her undying love for me, and then snogged me into oblivion. And well, you’ve got to understand what that sort of thing does to a bloke’s mental state.”

“Huh,” she remarks, lets her upper lip slide over his bottom one, nothing but a ghost of touch. “I don’t know much about undying love proclamations, but do go on about this snogging into oblivion business, please.”

James drops his head, sucks on the pulse that jumps beneath the skin of her neck. “Oblivion. Abyss. A whole lot of glittering darkness,” he confesses. “And since this witch resembled you—”

“Remarkably,” she moans, soft.

“Remarkably, of course—I thought it only proper to inform you of such an occurrence, y’know, for reputation’s sake. You’ve got that Head Girl image to maintain. Can’t have imposters of you running around making out with the Head Boy. Doesn’t look too good, to be honest. And I’m saying this purely out of selflessness, of course. If, on the other hand, you were to shed some light on this act and admit to...I don’t know...a lack of an imposter, it would mean a whole other thing—”

Lily slams him back against the wall, hand shoving his chest, mouth dangerously close to his. “Shut up, you’re rambling.” She smirks. “Just kiss me.”

And almost as if unable to sustain any patience to allow him to follow the directive, her lips crush over his in a kiss that somehow burns through his every molecule, scorching the very skin he wears, rivalling even the best kiss he’s ever had in his life, which was, incidentally, shared with the same person naught but two hours ago. Lily’s hand curls over his collar, twisting the fabric, giving her purchase to devour him alive. He reciprocates with a tightening grip on her waist, tilting her jaw, slipping his tongue inside to brush over the warm wetness of hers. A mad rush of breath, of gliding mouths and hands and softly uttered moans passes between them, the air under the cloak sweltering despite the cold outside.

Eventually, James wrenches himself away long enough to get the word out; her name. “Lily.”

“Mm,” she manages, lips on his cheek.

“I’m going to need you to spell it out for me.”

The breathless sincerity of his tone gives her pause, and she pulls back, eyes dark and confused. “What?”

“Do you,” he swallows past the cowardice, the thump of his heart. “Is this happening for real? You actually want...me?”

A beat passes, a long one, and Lily stares and stares and stares. Eventually, a smile spills, and he’s reminded of that abyss; glittering endlessly. “Yeah, James. I want you. Wholly. Fully.” She kisses him again, trails the honey on his lips. “I’m just letting you enjoy this outing with the boys, because once we’re back at the castle…”

She’s trailed off, left him to articulate thoughts. “What then?”

Lily grins, glint of teeth so cruelly delicious that it steals his breath, especially when accompanied by the roll of her hips. “I’ll let you fill in the blank.”

[fortheloveofschmico]

Counting Stars - Chapter 6 [Schmico]

Masterlist for this fic can be found here.

Chapter Summary: Levi finds himself drawn back to Nico, but surely no good can come of this?

CW: mastubation, mentions of blowjobs.

WC: 1.7K

—————————————————————

Chapter 6 - Counting Tensions

I feel your love and I feel it burn,

Down this river, every turn.

Hope is our four-letter word,

Make that money, watch it burn.

Levi was on edge all day and quite rightly so.

Every tall head of dark hair he spotted he would run the other direction, not wanting to find out too late that it was Nico.

He barely slept a wink last night despite being exhausted. He’d called Taryn who’d had the company of Casey and Dahlia and sobbed down the phone to them for at least two hours.

Then he called Jo and sobbed down the phone to her for another hour.

He’d thought about calling his mom but she’d never really accepted Levi’s sexuality and she’d never been Nico’s biggest fan, especially after the way he’d left so he refrained.

He also thought about drinking but he knew from experience that only made things ten times worse.

At around two am he got a text from Nico. It was mostly incoherent.

📲 From Nico: I misa you. Plese cab we takk! Levi. Lebi. Lobe u

Levi had promptly deleted it and blocked the number.

He slept intermittently, being woken by thoughts of Nico every hour or so.

The four hundred and tenth day had rolled back to the first day and he felt equally as terrible as he had on the last first day.

Link was a buffer like he’d said he would be and a few times he’d steered Levi away suddenly without a word and Levi knew why without having to ask.

It was around lunchtime when things went south.

Link had to excuse himself to call Amelia, apparently Scout had a pretty bad cough and Link needed to check in but he’d told Levi he’d meet him at the bar.

Levi ordered a soda and stood at the bar with his elbows resting on it, his head in his hands.

He was so tense. His whole body was tense. It probably had been since Nico had left but the tension in his body was doubled today.

It was only going to get worse.

***

Nico would be outright lying if he said he hadn’t been looking for Levi because of course he had. There was no way he was leaving things like this. Even if he had to force Levi to talk to him, they needed to clear the air.

A few times today he’d spotted him only for Levi to rush off and disappear into the crowds of doctors.

But when he saw him at the bar, his back to Nico, he knew he could make it across the room before Levi even realised he was coming.

He manoeuvred through throngs of people and made it to the bar, shyly sidling up to Levi.

As if sensing his presence, Levi looked up and his expression was instantly one of frustration.

“For the love of…” he trailed off with a frown and Nico knew what he was looking at. “What did you do to your head?”

Subconsciously, Nico’s fingers found his bruise. It was reminiscent of the one caused when he hit his head on the ambulance during the windstorm. He wondered if Levi was thinking the same.

“Drunken accident.” Nico shrugged. “Hi.”

“Don’t, Nico. Just…don’t.”

“I figured if I approached you here you wouldn’t be able to scream or yell at me with all these people around.”

“Smart.” Levi rolled his eyes. “What do you want Nico? I have nothing left to give.”

Nico didn’t answer him, instead he turned to the bar and ordered two beers. When he had them he held one out for Levi.

“I’m not in a drinking mood and after giving yourself a knock to the head, I think drinking is the last thing you should be doing.”

“We’re surrounded by people, Levi.” Nico lowered his voice, thrusting the beer towards him. “Politely take the beer and thank me and try to pretend you don’t hate me for a second.”

Levi looked from the beer and back to Nico a few times before he spoke again.

“No, I’m not going to do that. What I am going to do is politely decline the beer and politely tell you to go to hell and leave me alone.” Levi impressed himself with how level he’d managed to keep his voice.

Before he gave Nico a chance to respond he turned and headed away, knowing Nico wouldn’t make a scene and call after him.

He should have felt good that he managed to get out of that situation unscathed. But he didn’t feel good. Not at all.

Because as much as he hated Nico, he still loved Nico. And as much as it hurt to be around him there was a small part of Levi that would give anything to just stare at the ortho surgeon all day.

He rolled his shoulders as he made his getaway, feeling the tension building even further.

But Nico’s presence didn’t just bring frustrated tension, it also brought tension of a sexual kind. And Levi really needed to ignore that or he might end up doing something catastrophically stupid.

***

Levi had managed to avoid Nico for the rest of the day, much to Nico’s frustration.

He’d bypassed the alcohol tonight, it was a slippery slope if he started drinking to excess every night.

So he hit the hotel gym instead. He spent hours on the running machine in the hopes of out running his problems.

Then he spent several more hours lifting weights in the hopes of lifting his own spirits.

Neither worked.

He jumped straight in the shower when he got back to his room, a sheen of sweat on his body and muscles aching.

He knew the ache wasn’t all from the gym, he knew too well it was tension building in his body from being so close to the man he loved and not being able to have him.

Was it wrong that when Nico closed his eyes as the water rushed over him, he got a little turned on thinking about his lost love?

Ok, so more than a little turned on.

Picturing Levi and his large puppy dog eyes and full, pouty lips made his dick hard within seconds. He was heartbroken, sure, but he was only human. And Levi had never failed to turn him on.

He supposed it might be a momentary distraction and it would help to relieve the stress and tension pent up in his body.

He slid his soapy hand down his torso until he was clutching the base of his cock.

He gasped at the sensation. Nico was a man with a very high sex drive, usually.

Since he left Seattle he hadn’t been with anyone, not ready to move on from Levi. And it was only now as he slowly started pumping himself that he realised it had been a really long time since he’d even masturbated.

He almost instantly felt the tension seeping from his body and he moaned at the feeling.

He cast his mind back to a memory of sharing a lazy shower with Levi one day after a long shift at Grey Sloan. They had both been exhausted which is why Nico had been extremely surprised when Levi had dropped to his knees and sucked him off in the shower.

The thought of that made his toes curl and the lubrication the water from the shower head created, enabled him to move his hand faster and faster.

God he needed to come. How long had it been since he’d last come?

His head was hazy and it wasn’t long before he felt his balls tightening, the tell tale sign he was going to come in almost no time at all.

And then he heard the sound.

His eyes shot open and he stilled his movements. He heard it again so he shut off the shower.

The third time he heard it he knew it was a knock on the door.

He thought about ignoring it, assuming it would only be Link as they hadn’t managed to catch up today and he really needed his release.

But the knocking continued.

With a large sigh he stepped out of the shower and wrapped one of the tiny towels around his waist, barely covering his still erect cock.

He slumped to the door and threw it open, about to give Link a piece of his mind.

But it wasn’t Link’s blue eyes staring back at him. Instead he was looking into the sad doe eyes of Levi.

Nico swallowed, chewing his lip.

“Hi, Levi.” He whispered, as though he were frightened he’d scare him off.

Levi didn’t even try to hide the fact he was eyeing Nico up and down.

He was barely covered and Levi was mesmerised by the water droplets rolling down his abs. It was also painfully obvious that Nico was hard beneath his towel.

“Goddamn, Nico.” Levi groaned, slapping his palm to his face. “You-you’re with someone?”

“What?” Nico gasped. “Of course not!”

“B-but you…you’re…”

“I was in the shower. Alone.” Not wanting to actually say what he was doing, Nico simply waved his right hand.

Levi’s cheeks flushed red instantly.

“Oh.” He squeaked. “Oh god. I am so, so sorry. I should just-“ before he could finish his sentence, Nico had wrapped the same hand around Levi’s wrist and pulled him into the room.

The door closed behind them and Levi swallowed as he pressed his back against the now closed door.

“I was thinking about us. In shower that time. You on your knees.” Nico’s voice was low and breathy, the way Levi knew meant he was turned on.

Levi swallowed again, feeling himself getting turned on. This wasn’t what he’d come here for. Or was it what he came here for?

He certainly needed some tension released and he knew from experience how good Nico was at…stress relief.

But wouldn’t it hurt more? One night with the love of his life would surely make everything a hundred times worse in the morning.

Nico was stepping closer to him and Levi had nowhere to go. He came to a stop right in front of him and placed his large hands on the door either side of Levi’s head.

“You’re thinking too much.” Nico whispered again. “Just go with it.”

And then Nico’s lips crashed into Levi’s and Levi found himself letting out a little whine.

He had two options here. He could either let Nico keep kissing him and inevitably fall into bed with him. Or he could push him away and make a run for it.

As Nico’s tongue found its way into Levi’s mouth, the younger doctor was at a complete loss for what to do.

[calmsweetcreature]

Fraternizing

A/N: Here’s my first Mikey Fic!! Lemme know the kinds of fics you want to see for the boys and I’ll make a start, I’m thinking a Luke Fic next so lemme know!

Warnings: Angst/Smut/Fluff

Word count: 5.4K

The party was heaving with bodies everywhere and as I squeezed my way through to the kitchen a hand came down hard on my shoulder.

“It’s the little mouse, what are you doing here?” Johnny Macintosh was a real piece of work, he was one of the most well known frat guys on campus - namely for how he treated women and how much beer he could put away at parties. “Always thought you were too square for parties like this, did you get lost on the way to the library?” His words were a wet whisper against my ear that made me shiver with how uncomfortable I felt. I shrugged his hand off my shoulder and walked through the gyrating bodies towards the kitchen, until again a hand came down onto my shoulder and I spun around to give Johnny a piece of my mind only to be met with my roommate and best friend Julia.

“Hey Y/N I found you! You having fun?” her words were slurred, and as she raised a red plastic cup to her lips a body crashed into her from behind sending a cherry red drink all down my white top.

“Oh s-shit, Y/N I’m sorry!” Julia reaches for my top and I push her hand away. Her heart was always in the right place but Julia always took the phrase ‘let loose on the weekend’ a bit too seriously. She dragged me out most weekends but it was never long before she left with some guy, not to be seen again until the next day.

“It’s fine, just go and sit for a bit okay? I’ll come find you soon, I’ve got to try and clean this off before it dries!” I pushed my way through and into the kitchen, grabbing some paper towels and wetting them under the faucet, patting the red liquid stains off of my top.

“I bet you regret wearing white to a frat, don’t you?” A lazy drawl came from behind me and I clamped my eyes shut in frustration. Michael-fucking-Clifford.

Me and Michael had been butting heads ever since I had started college, he liked to tease me in everyway possible and I fucking hated him for it.

“You could say that, although I think I regret coming here at all now.” Your words came out more viciously then you had intended and a hand dropped on my shoulder to turn me around.

“Now now Kitten, don’t be like that.” His lips were pouting but there was a twinkle in his eyes that led on to just how mischievous he was being. My eyes narrowed as a growl left my throat at the term of endearment he had so graciously given to me. After hearing Johnny call me mouse for the longest time and listening to me verbally bite Johnny’s ear off every time, Michael had decided that this was no mouse but a Kitten with claws, which is the only thing he had called me since.

“What do you want Michael? I’m not in the mood today.” I keep scrubbing at my top, the cloth not removing the red drink stain but instead adding a large wet patch, making the top see through and revealing the pale pink lace bra underneath. Michael scowls, reaching behind me to grab a towel, patting the top dry.

“You do not want to walk around this house like that Y/N, not with the likes of Johnny here.” His eyes were dark, the dabbing motion of his hand getting slower until his hand is slowly dragging the towel over my chest, the side of his fingers trailing over the swell of my breasts.

“Mouse!” Johnny’s voice is carried from the other side of the room and Michael’s hand moves away so fast it’s like I burnt him.

“We’re starting truth or dare in the other room and I reserved you a seat!” He pushed his way through the kitchen, pushing freshman out of the way until he is stood directly in front of me.

“I’m not interested Johnny.” His eyes go to my top and a dark grin spreads over his face.

“Shame little mouse, I think everyone would like to see more of you.” His eyes linger on my chest for a moment before he saunters off into the crowd. The intensity of his gaze makes me almost fold into myself, and I stare at the ground, wishing it could swallow me up.

“Ignore that guy kitten, he’s a prick,” Michael’s words are hushed but I can hear the anger in them which makes my eyes meet his in the crowded room. It’s like the music and the chatter stops, the only hint of the pounding music is the floor vibrating under my feet. I blink, shaking my head.

“Like you, you mean?” He lets out a snarl at my words and throws the towel he’d been grasping at my chest.

“Go fuck yourself then Little Mouse” He sneers, walking away from me.

“Michael wait!” I call, following after him. I walk into the lounge to see a huge circle of people, Michael going and sitting across the room.

“Changed your mind then mouse? I saved you a spot next to me!” Johnny pats the floor next to him and I can’t help but sigh knowing that I didn’t really have a choice. I timidly sit myself next to Johnny and I can feel Michael’s eyes on me from across the circle.

I keep my eyes low on the floor, my arms across my chest to hide the still slight transparent patch on my top. The game begins and I soon realise this isn’t the same game that I remember from high school. The rules are that all truths must be answered or you must streak across campus but the forfeit for not completing dares were that you must do a double shot of vodka or a line of coke.I was not prepared to do any of those things so I knew I would have to be extra careful.

“Mikey, truth or dare?” One of the girls in the group asked him with a twinkle in her eye as she twirled a piece of hair around her finger. You didn’t want to judge another woman and label her a bimbo but you weren’t totally sure how she got into college - it definitely wasn’t through academic means, you knew that.

“Dare.” His eyes met the girls and she giggled, her eyes blazing from either alcohol or drugs - I couldn’t tell which.

“I dare you to take a body shot off of me.” Michael rolls his eyes but nods, clearly having had enough of this dumb game already. I couldn’t help but frown at the unsteady feeling in my stomach at the thought of watching Michael do something intimate with a random girl. The feeling intensifies when the girl strips off her top leaving her in a bra and skirt - causing all of the boys and a few of the girls in the circle to whoop and holler.

I stare as another girl wets a line leading between the valley between the breasts of the girl (you now knew to be called Lucy) and sprinkle salt across it before pouring a shots worth of tequila in her bellybutton, finishing with a wedge of lemon between Lucy’s teeth.Michael manoeuvres himself until he is leaning over the blonde, his eyes catching mine as his tongue slides across her skin, the eye contact not stopping as he sucks the tequila from her belly button and not even as his mouth hovers over hers to suck up the lemon. There was a darkness in his eyes that I couldn’t ignore and as much as I didn’t always like the man, a shiver was running through my body that was setting me alight.

He sits up throwing the leftover lemon across the room. “I fucking hate tequila.”

Lucy leans up, looking after Michael longingly, “Hey Mich-”

He cuts her off, sitting back in his spot in the circle. “Put your fucking shirt on Lucy.”

A hurt look crosses the girls face and she grabs her clothes, leaving the room.

“Fucking savage bro, you going after her? She’d probably follow you to bed easy” Johnny asks Michael, who shakes his head before taking a long swig of his beer.

A slew of truths and dares go around the group, from being asked to pretend butt-dial parents and fake sex noises to chugging a bottle of ketchup. I was about ready to stand up and leave the game when Johnny pointedly stares at me, pointing in my direction.

“Mouse, truth or dare?” His grin is sickening and I close my eyes, dreading what was to come. Before I can open my mouth to answer he interrupts me. “You’re taking too long, you get a dare.”

“Johnny that’s not fair, I-” He cuts me off again.

“New rule little mouse, dare it is.” Chuckles go around the room and I cringe a little, suddenly realising how much of the group is made up of Johnny’s minions. From the corner of my eye I see Michael roll his eyes and that makes me sit up straighter, thinking that he’s judging me for being a whimp.

“Fine, bring it.” I falsify confidence, hoping no one can recognise the nerves on my face. I’m not supposed to be here, I’m the quiet girl who doesn’t spend time in frats - this game being one of the reasons why.

Johnny strokes his face as if thinking before he smirks, leaning back against the couch he is sat in front of.

“You have to sit on my lap. And kiss me.” All of the guys in the circle crack up apart from Michael who pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes his head. The girls glare at me jealousy and I stare at Johnny incredulously.

“Johnny what the fuck?” I stare at him in shock and he grins, a sly laugh leaving his lips.

“I could always cut you a line princess. Your choice.” I stare at the ground, sighing before moving, sitting on Johnny’s lap as close to his knees as I can get without falling off him.

“You didn’t say how long for so thirty seconds is your limit.” I keep my words pointed and he rolls his eyes but nods nonetheless.

The group cheers as he puts his hand on the back of my head, pulling me in and kissing me. Now - as much as I didn’t like the guy, I had to admit he could kiss. His tongue slides across my bottom lip and I don’t let him in, that is until he pinches the skin of my thigh and I gasp, his tongue entering my mouth and wrestling with my own.I count to thirty in my head before I move my head back, but his hand clasps my head and keeps me in place as his other hand goes to the bottom of my back, pushing me further into his lap. I put my hands on his chest and push but to no avail, I breathe deeply through my nose pushing against him as hard as I can.

While most of his friends start laughing I can hear some of his friends calling his name.

“Johnny man, it’s time.”

“Uh dude you should probably stop now.”

“Get your hands the fuck off her Coleman.” I can hear Michael’s voice over the rest and I push with both hands at Johnny’s chest. His hands move to my shirt as he pulls away breathing heavy. I hear a ripping noise before I feel myself getting pulled off of his lap as I’m pushed behind a tall body. I look down at my ripped shirt, my lace bra out in the open, I push my front against the tall boy in front of me that I now realise is Michael as I catch my breath.

“Awh Mouse I was enjoying that.” Johnny wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Why’d you ruin my fun Clifford, want a taste?”

Michael tenses in front of me and I put a hand on his back, stroking my thumb until I feel his body relax slightly. I couldn’t even tell what the dynamic was between us in this moment but all I knew was I felt safe behind him.

“No man, I'm good.” Johnny smirks at his words but the smile drops from his lips when Michael utters “I like my women when they’re willing.”

Johnny stands up, his chest puffing out. “Fuck you man. Hey mouse, don’t panic - you’re a shit kisser anyway, thought your tits would make up for it but they’re shit too.”

Michael takes a step forward and I put an arm around his waist, “Michael leave it, please.”

He stills, his arm resting on top of mine before he growls under his breath, turning to leave the room with me trailing behind him.

“Michael it’s fine, I’ll just go back to my room.” He leads me up the stairs, his hand holding mine as we walk through the house.

“Y/N there is no way in hell you’re walking back through campus with that rip in your shirt. I’m getting you another shirt and then I’ll walk you back.” He pulls you through a door with a ‘KEEP OUT’ sign across the front, you bite your lip as you take in the decor. Black bedding adorns the bed, a grey rug on the floor with a wall of guitars and band posters everywhere.

“Nice room.” You murmur, picking up a photo from a cabinet and observing the picture where Michael has his arms around three other guys.

“That’s my best friends - Ash, Cal and Luke. We’re in a band together.” He turns and rummages through a drawer by his bed, looking for a shirt. I run a finger over the photo, tracing over Michael’s grin.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile like that,” I whisper, thinking about how most of mine and Michael’s conversations had been little bickers.I smile at the photo of the grinning man, laughing with his friends. The darkly dressed, scowling man you’d come to know looked so different.

“Why would you, it’s hard to give you a smile when you’re irritating me all of the damn time.” I turn to look at him when a black ball of fabric hits me in the face. I stumble back, hitting my head on the door and sliding until I’m sat on the floor. A yelp leaves my throat at the sudden fall, but the sound is muffled by the tee.

“Shit!” I pull the shirt from my face to see Michael kneeling in front of me, a concerned look on his face. “Y/N, I didn’t mean for that to happen, are you okay?” His hand goes to the back of my head, and while the touch makes me flinch, I know there’s no lasting damage.

“I’ll probably have a sore head tomorrow but yeah I’m fine.” I laugh softly at the worry on his face and he rolls his eyes, his hand not moving from the back of my head.

I look at the tee and back to Michael. “Liberty’s? You work there?” The dive bar just off of campus was not a place you frequented often, but most of your friends did - if not for the live music then for the rowdy atmosphere that was sure to get your blood pumping.

“Yeah, it’s where my band plays most of the time - I DJ sometimes and Luke and Cal who are in that photo you were drooling over work the bar most night and Ash works the door.” I blush at his words as he stands up, walking over to a mini fridge in the corner and grabbing two beers.

“I was not drooling, don’t be a jackass.” I change into the tee, it swallows me and becomes kind of like a dress on my figure. I grab one of the beers and sit on the edge of his bed awkwardly. “Thanks for the beer?” My words trail off into a question as I look at him, trying to figure out what is going on in this boy’s mind.

“One for the road. That fucking dick downstairs made my buzz disappear.” My fingers play with the hem of the t-shirt, trying to muster up the courage to say what I needed to.

“T-thank you. For what you did downstairs.” I keep my eyes low, not sure whether to say anything more.

“Don’t mention it, you shouldn’t have fucking joined that game, Johnny is a messed up dude who sees you as fruit ripe for the picking.” Michael’s words get angry and I can’t help but watch as he clenches his hand into a fist on his leg before taking a long drink.

“And what do you see me as?” Embarrassment floods through me as I hear a twinge of hope in my words. It’s only now that I’m sitting so close to him that I realise how bright his eyes are, how the stubble on his chin makes him look older then he is and I can’t help but internally shiver as I imagine that stubble grazing my neck.

“I did see you as an annoying spoiled brat who always wanted her own way. I saw you as rude, bitchy and irritating.” His words hurt and it must have been the drink making me that little bit more sensitive because I could feel tears filling my eyes at his words.

I nod softly, setting my beer on the floor. “Don’t worry about walking me back, I’ll be okay.”

I stand from the bed, walking towards the door. I knew that we had always bickered but there was a part of that felt like it was just part of the way we spoke to each other, it was never that I genuinely didn’t like him, but he obviously didn’t feel the same.

“Y/N wait.” I could hear him call after me but I didn’t want to hear more reasons why he didn’t like me. I flew open the door and stepped back out into the booming noise of the party. There were bodies everywhere and the beer was making me feel hazy as a hand clasp my wrist.

“Michael, I-” The room starts spinning when I see Johnny looking down at me, sneering.

“Where’ve you been Mouse? You left me high and dry in front of my boys.” He shakes his head, pushing me against the nearest wall, his arm resting above my head as he towers over my small frame. “You can make it up to me though,”

“No Johnny I was just going home, it was part of the game.” I fake confidence but my voice cracks slightly.

He presses against me, one hand trailing up of Michael’s tshirt, pushing it up slightly. “Awh c’mon Y/N, don’t be so frigid.” His mouth starts lowering towards mine and I turn my head away.

“Johnny, no.” I push against his chest and he tenses, pushing further into me as his mouth connects with my neck. I let out a small cry and push against him more, when suddenly his body is pulled off me and lands with a thud on the floor, another person led over him as punches are thrown at his face.

“She said no. Take no for a fucking answer you fucking creep.” I stand pressed against the wall, my chest heaving as I watch Michael pummel Johnny into the ground.

“Michael get off of him! Mate stop!” Two of the frat boys shout before they come and pull Michael away, leaving Johnny groaning on the floor holding his nose.

I unfreeze as Johnny stands unsteadily, pointing towards me.

“You’ve got fucking problems with this chick man, last week you fucking hated her and now what? You’re defending her honour?” Johnny spits out his words, blood flying from his split lip as he walks towards Michael. “You can fucking have her, she’s a frigid bitch anyway.” He pushes past Michael towards his room, some of his minions following after him.

Michael walks over to you slowly, your eyes on the bloodied knuckles of his hands. He reaches for my hand and I flinch slightly. His eyes get a hurt look in them and goes to move his hand away when I clasp it in mine, gripping it tightly but being careful not to hurt his hand. We look at each other for a moment, silent words passing through our eyes.

“Come back to my room for a minute, please? I just want to talk.” His words are low but pleading and I nod softly. It’s only when he turns that we notice all of the eyes on us. I blush, following after Michael as he drags me softly towards his room, locking the door behind him.

“That’s not to keep you in by the way, you can leave whenever. I just want to keep those assholes out.” I nod softly, holding myself as Michael moves to sit on his bed. “Y/N, kitten, please sit down.” Michael had always used that name to tease me but there was a softness in his words that warmed my heart.

“Firstly you need to know that Johnny won’t bother you again. He’s pretty coked up now but I’ll let him know tomorrow that if he even looks at you that a broken nose, split lip and black eye are the least of his worries.” His fingers move to my chin making me look in his eyes. The intense gaze he was giving me was sending butterflies to my stomach.

“Secondly what I said to you before was a dick move but you need to know that I said those things in the past tense, because I don’t see you that way anymore and I don’t think I ever really did. Fuck Y/N I don’t know.” He lifts his cap, running a hand through his messy hair before putting the cap back on and rubbing his eyes, groaning.

“And what that fucker said was a lie because I’ve never fucking hated you.” He stares into my eyes and I know he’s telling the truth.

One of his hands cups my cheek, and I hold my breath in fear of scaring him off. His forehead presses against mine and I can feel his breath against my lips.

“Have you ever hated me?” His words are hushed and I blush at how close our mouths are.

“Oh there’s been times where I’ve definitely hated you.” Michael smirks, a dark laugh leaving his lips before they’re pushed against mine and suddenly everything disappears. Just his kiss was sending a thousand volts through my body and it was suddenly like I couldn’t get close enough to him. Our faces moved against each other as our tongues wrestled. His hands gripped my face as mine clenched his shirt. We pull away for air and a small whimper leaves my throat. We both sit in silence, breathing in unison.

“Michael… could I stay here? I don’t want to be alone.” His eyes widen at my words and his mouth drops open playfully.

“Y/N how forward of you!” I blush and slap him on the chest.

“Not like that! I just want to talk to you, we’ve never just talked.” For the first real time since I’ve known him, Michael smiles - really smiles and puts his arm around my shoulders and pulls me into his chest. He feels warm and in his arms I feel safe, almost like I don’t want to leave.

“I’d like that, Kitten.”

We both climb into the bed in our clothes, talking about anything and everything from Michael’s favourite music and where I grew up. I wasn’t sure when I fell asleep but all I knew was that just before I did I felt Michael kiss my forehead.

***

The light shone through the window, casting over the dark room and highlighting the arm around my waist. Somewhere through the night we had pressed up against each other and our legs were tangled as Michael spooned me. The T-shirt I was in had ridden up to my waist, Michael’s arm hot against my skin. I blinked slowly, letting myself wake up peacefully and my eyes adjust to the small amount of light in the room. I take time to remember everything that had happened at the party, left with the knowledge that Michael really does care about me and had saved me from Johnny’s ways.

I shift slightly in the bed, becoming aware of one of Michael’s hands resting on the skin of my thigh and I stretch out my back only to accidentally press my backside against his hips. His arm wraps tighter around me and his fingers spread out across my stomach. Somewhere during the night I had shed my skirt and was dressed only in his long t-shirt. I bite my lip trying not to laugh out loud and wiggle against him again. His fingers dig into my hips and I feel his face nuzzle into the back of my head.

“Kitten. Quit it.” But something bold awakens in me and I continue the movement, circling my hips back and revelling in how tight he holds me close in reaction.

“Y/N.” His voice is a growl of warning but there’s something electric about our bodies being so close. I know I’m pushing my luck but feeling his body react to me gives me all kinds of confidence.

His fingers trace the edge of my underwear and I shiver, fully rocking my ass back against his hardening dick.

“You feeling needy this morning? What happened to just talking?” His words blow hot breaths against my ear and I let out a breathy moan as his hand searches lazily over the lace of my panties, searching for my clit. He knows he’s found it when I let out a short gasp, and chuckles darkly.

“You need something?” His hand leaves my body and travels up towards my jaw, tilting my face up so that his lips are pressed against my ear. His grip is forceful but not painful and the dominance in his movements makes me whimper quietly.

“I just want to feel good Mikey.”

He groans in my ear and leans back from me, his hand on my hip.

“Turn around, please?” I shift my body until I’m facing him and he pulls me even closer, hooking my thigh over his hip until he is pressed up against me, grinding directly against my heat. I rock against him slowly, his half awake eyes and lazy grin making him look so fucking hot that I can’t help the whine that leaves my lips. I lean forward, brushing my lips softly against his.

He leans his head closer to mine to fully press his lips against my own but I pull back. He smirks and waits for me to lean forward before trying again but I pull my head away again, teasing him.

His hand goes to my ass and smacks down, pulling me into him and kissing me forcefully. I giggle against his lips and wrap my free arm around his neck, kissing him with everything I have. Michael rolls onto his back, pulling me on top of him, kiss hands pushing down on my backside and grinding up so I can feel every inch of his hardness.

“Kitten you’re going to make me nut right here if you’re not careful, looking so fucking beautiful in my clothes.” I sit up until I’m straddling him, blushing at his words.

“Are you going to go back to not liking me after this?” I take each of his hands in mine, entwining our fingers as I rock my hips forward at a steady pace. “Because i’m not that kind of girl, Clifford.” My tone is teasing and he pulls me down until I’m laying flat on his chest and kisses me deeply, murmuring against my lips.

“I have a funny feeling things aren’t going to be the same again Kitten.” He pulls away, resting his forehead against mine. “Look I’m DJing tonight and my band might play a set. Come and watch us? We can grab food after and see what happens?”

I rest my arms on either side of his head, “I’d like that.” Our lips meet again and I feel myself falling sideways as he rolls us over so that he’s on top of me.

“I want to make you feel good.” His words are whispered against my neck and he kisses down to where my neck and shoulder meets, biting down. I arch against his chest, pulling him closer. Our hips move against each other again, rocking to create as much friction as possible. I could feel how thick he was against my lace covered core and it made me want skin to skin contact - as much as I can get.

I wrap my legs around his waist and push my hips up but I feel his teeth graze my neck before biting down and I yelp out quietly.

“Don’t think for a second that you’re in control here Y/N.” One of his fingers slide under the lace of my underwear and starts tracing figure eights around my clit. I gasp out, my eyes sliding shut as his bulge continues to grind against me, sensations flowing through my body.

“You want to know something Kitten? Eyes on me.” I meet his intense stare, his free hand gripping my hip to steady my movements. His fingers speed up their movements and my eyes start to glaze over as little pants leave my mouth.

“Everytime we used to have our little spats I’d imagine putting my hand on the back of your head and shutting you up with my mouth, sucking on your tongue and swallowing up your words. I imagined what that bratty mouth would feel like, what you’d taste like. Whether you’d kiss like a princess or a dirty girl.”

His words caused my whole body to shiver, heat rising through my body and making my head spin.

“You going to find out or keep it to your imagination?” My words come out whinier then intended but I get the exact reaction I wanted as Michael growls under his breath and forces his lips against mine roughly, his tongue sliding across my bottom lip before sucking my tongue and biting down.

His hand pushes the rest of our clothes out of his way before hiking one of my thighs high against the bed and slowly pushing into me. I arch my back against him, panting softly as I start to feel oh so full.

“Fucking beautiful.” His words are whispered between us and our eyes connect as he pulls out softly before pushing all the way in. It’s delicious and hot and we both groan and the feeling. Every negative word passed between us melts away and all that is left is two people connecting in the closest of ways.

Our hips rock together, both of us searching for our highs, the small grunts and gasps filling the space between us our eyes staying locked on each other.

Michael’s forehead presses against mine as he grips my hand and pushes it against the mattress.

“Mikey.. I… I” my words are gasped out and Michael presses his lips against mine. “You close baby?” He presses his lips against my neck and sucks harshly, pressing deep inside and grinding his hips and my head spins. Something bursts deep inside me and I throw my head back, a silent scream leaving my mouth.

“Oh fuck, so tight…” A groan leaves Mikey’s lips and he pulls out, releasing over my stomach. A giggle leaves my lips as he flops down next to me with a sheepish grin. He reaches for his shirt, cleaning me up softly.

“You going to let me call you Kitten from now on?” His hand strokes the side of my face and I muzzle into it.

“Only if I can call you my puppy dog?” His face scrunches up and he frowns and me playfully.

“Fuck right off.” His words are harsh but the glint in his eyes is warmer then it’s ever been.

“Woof woof,” I tease before a screaming laugh leaves my lips as he rolls back on top of me, his lips travelling to my stomach as he blows raspberries and tickles me.

I don’t know how long we led there but all I knew was I could spend forever lost between these sheets.

🎆

Let me know what you think!❤️

[tsarisfanfiction]

Morning After

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Family Characters: Gordon, Scott

A part two/sequel to my fluffember fic Night Out.  Not properly proof read and will probably go through some revisions before I archive it, but two Tracys, two hangovers, and one bed!  Fluff time~

The first thing Gordon noticed upon awaking was that he was very much not alone in bed.  A warm body was pressed up against him, arm draped over his chest in a quite frankly too tight embrace for sleep and the steady in and out of warm breath fluttered against his neck.  Brain addled with sleep, he couldn’t identify who they were – surely Lady Penelope wouldn’t be quite so heavy, not that they were anywhere near the sleeping in the same bed stage of any relationship – and attempted to pull away.

That was scuppered by the fact that not only did his mysterious bedfellow have him pinned with the arm across his chest, but that his own arm was trapped beneath their body and was entirely dead because whoever they were was heavy.

Resorting to actually opening his eyes – and wincing at the light streaming in through the windows (was it that late already, and ow how much had he drunk last night?) – he squinted in the direction of his shoulder, where their head was pressed, to see dark brown hair.

Oh, yeah.  Now he remembered.

After the absolute disaster that had been the end of their night out, he and Parker had all but dragged Scott to bed, where they’d determined that yes, he was concussed but it really was only minor and most of his behaviour was just because he was drunk. Gordon, as the responsible and caring little brother, had still decided it would be a good idea to spend the night with him, just in case.  The bed was plenty big enough for both of them, so what was the problem?

The problem, he was now discovering, was that a drunk Scott was a cuddly Scott, and at some point during the night, Gordon had been relegated to plushie status.

Scowling, he prodded his brother’s cheek.

“Wake up, Scott,” he grumbled.  Scott was typically a light sleeper – like Gordon – and woke up at dawn (like Gordon). Also like Gordon, he appeared to have lost both of those traits that morning.  Instead of snapping awake, instantly alert, and getting off, Scott grumbled something unintelligible and tightened his grip.  Damn alcohol.  Why had they thought going out drinking was a good idea?

Well, the evening had been fun until Stool-Bastard decided to ruin it.

“Scoooooooott,” he groaned, jabbing his older brother again.  It was even less effective than his first attempt, and he frowned.  It was probably just the alcohol, but at the same time he was concussed, even if only mildly.  “Scott!”

Whether it was simply a case of third time’s the charm, or if the change of tone had alerted Scott’s inner Smother Hen, that got a slightly more awake groan.

“Shuddup,” Scott grumbled. “Tw’early.”

“I’m fairly sure this is a lie-in by your standards, bro,” Gordon commented, nudging him again and making a fresh attempt to free himself from his brother’s hold.  “Are you going to let go any time soon?  Nature’s calling and all that.”

The noise he got in response was a clear protest.

“Scott, I love you, bro, but I’m not your plushie or your girlfriend.  Or boyfriend, for that matter.”

“Mhrr?”

Honestly, if Gordon wasn’t mildly concerned about the concussion, this would be quite amusing. He’d never seen Scott this clingy in his life and the potential blackmail was stacking up with every passing second.

(He made a mental note to drink with him more often, as long as there were no Stool-Bastards around to concuss his brother.)

“Scott.  Bro.  Let go.”  He punctuated the words with another, fiercer, escape attempt.  It was enough to dislodge Scott’s head from his shoulder – or would have been, if Gordon hadn’t realised the danger and caught it. Counter-productive to his freedom, but he wasn’t risking that concussion with anything, even just a fall onto the pillow.  “Scott, I will yell for Parker and then everyone will know there’s a cuddle monster in there.”

“M’nster?” Scott mumbled. “Wha’ m’nster, Grds?  ‘Sno m’nster.”

“So you are listening to me!  Sort of.” Gordon sighed loudly and dramatically, because he really did need to breathe, thank you, Scott.  “There is a monster and it’s called Scott Carpenter Tracy, so if he would wake up properly and let a squid breathe it would be much appreciated.”

“’M ‘wake,” his brother protested, sounding about as far from awake as it was possible to be.

“Yeah, no,” Gordon said flatly.  “This is not awake.  And I really, really, need you to wake up, Scott.”

Right now, the only thing separating Scott from early morning Virgil was the lack of growling. It would be fantastic blackmail if it wasn’t so worrying.  Gentle persuasion was clearly not working, and Gordon needed to be sure this was just typical hungover Scott and not a sign that the concussion was worse than they’d thought.

He pinched Scott’s cheek. Hard.

“Ow!”  The arm that had been pinning Gordon’s chest moved, hand coming to rub at the abused cheek.  “Gordon, what the hell?”

In answer, Gordon tugged at the arm still pinned under his brother, and swallowed a cry of victory when Scott shifted enough for him to reclaim it.  Pins and needles immediately sparked to life in his previously numb arm, and he hissed.

Scott’s arm wrapped back around him, although not quite so tightly, and he groaned.

“Are you still drunk, Scott?”

The negative response was muffled by his neck – because apparently Scott hadn’t moved his head at all. “Hungover,” his brother continued, sounding less than pleased about that fact.  “And concussed.”

Well, if he could recognise that, it definitely couldn’t have been too serious.

Doing his best to ignore the buzzing pins and needles in his arm – success on that front was minimal – Gordon ran his hand lightly over the back of Scott’s head, where he’d been hit. Scott made a quiet noise of protest but didn’t pull away.

“So hungover Scott is as much of a cuddle monster as drunk Scott?” he queried.

“Shuddup.”

“I’ll take that as a yes, then,” he chirped.  “But seriously, bro, you need to let go now, okay?”

There was a pause, and Gordon could see the moment Scott realised he was being clingy by the way his spine stiffened.  A split second later, his brother was rolling off of his shoulder and releasing him.

Not one to be caught a second time, Gordon immediately sat up and regretted it as his head reminded him that he too had been drinking the previous evening, and just because he’d snapped into something vaguely responsible when Scott was attacked didn’t mean the alcohol had miraculously vanished.

A quiet groan later, and he stumbled his way out of the bed.  Nature really was calling, after all, and he ignored his brother’s mumbled attempt at his name – enough concern seeping into his voice that Gordon was confident it was just Smother Hen attempting to appear – to answer.

Scott was still in bed when he returned, now face down in the pillows and looking about as pathetic as Gordon had ever seen him.  Wincing at the mild throbbing in his own head, Gordon made his way over and perched on the bed.

“How’s the head?” he asked.

Scott’s answering groan was closer to a whine.  Gordon took that as a cue to lean over and take a closer look, only for his hands to be batted away by a disgruntled Scott, who then pulled another pillow over the top of his head in a move much more reminiscent of Alan.

“Don’t do that,” Gordon scolded, tugging it back.  “You’ll suffocate yourself.”  Scott made another wordless noise of protest.

Hungover Scott was, Gordon was discovering, a priceless source of entertainment.

“Fine, I won’t touch,” he promised, setting the pillow down out of Scott’s immediate reach.  “How about I call Parker and get him to bring up some water?”

He could certainly do with some.

“’ff til shuddyup,” Scott mumbled into the pillow.  Gordon took that as a yes and pressed the call button.

Parker materialised in the doorway so quickly he could well have been waiting there.  In his hands was a tray, carrying a pitcher of water and two plain glass tumblers.  To Gordon’s delight, there was also-

“h’Aspirin, for your ‘angovers.”  Parker eyed both of them with what Gordon hoped was amusement and not disapproval. “Mr Scott, ‘ow h’are you feeling?”

He got the same groan of misery Gordon had been awarded earlier.  Parker’s expression changed to something that looked fondly sympathetic; Gordon would love to know what Scott had done to get himself in Parker’s soft spot.

The tray was put down in Gordon’s reach, and he took the hint to help himself as the butler perched on the other side of the bed, hand lightly on Scott’s shoulder.

“Come h’on, Mr Scott,” he coaxed.  “h’If you sit h’up, there’s water and h’aspirin.”

Scott grumbled but, miraculously, moved.  He first pushed himself over onto his side, and then collapsed the rest of the way onto his back.  Clearly, his spatial awareness was still offline, because the manoeuvre put him awkwardly draped over Gordon’s hip.

“Up you get,” Gordon encouraged, using the leverage to slip an arm underneath his brother’s shoulders and nudge him.  From behind an arm, blue eyes shot him a baleful glare.

Still, Scott reluctantly obeyed, dragging himself upright and hunching forwards with another groan.

“Drink.”  Gordon pressed a glass of water into his brother’s hand.

He wasn’t sure Scott had ever obeyed him without complaint before, rescues notwithstanding.  It was a little bizarre to see his older brother promptly raise the glass to his lips and take a gulp without so much as a disapproving look.

While Gordon was for the moment content to uphold his agreement not to touch, he did find himself peering closely at the back of Scott’s head as he wrapped his arm around his back to support him.

Nothing seemed wrong, although he was willing to bet it was throbbing something awful, especially combined with the hangover.  To help, he slipped a dose of aspirin into Scott’s hand, and watched the tablets get swallowed down with as much eagerness as his brother had shown for anything since they’d woken up.

Satisfied for the moment that Scott was handled, he continued his own drink, enjoying the bliss of his own aspirin as it began to take the edge off the headache he was attempting to ignore.  Parker, bless the man, had made sure the curtains were closed, preventing the worst of the sun from assaulting his eyes, and with a bit of shuffling, he relocated until he was leaning against the head of the bed.

The sudden appearance of brown in his periphery as a weight settled on his shoulder was thoroughly unexpected.

“Scott?” he asked, looking across to see his brother had joined him and was apparently trying to mimic the previous night by using him as a pillow.

“Shuddup, Gordon,” Scott grumbled, but didn’t pull his head back or make any attempt to straighten from his slumped posture.

Oh, there was so much blackmail to be had here.  Gordon reminded himself that he wanted to go out again with Scott, to see what he was like without the concussion messing things up.  Just… maybe later.

After his head stopped complaining about last night.

He must have fallen asleep again, because the next thing he knew, there were low voices in conversation and a click of a camera.

Dragging open eyes he didn’t remember closing, there was something blue and green and-

Uh oh.

“That makes one of you awake.”

Virgil sounded amused, at least.  Gordon yawned, but found himself unable to stretch.  Something was weighing down his left side, and as he glanced across he saw a shock of brown bedhead.

Huh, how had he missed that earlier?

And when had Virgil turned up?  He wasn’t supposed to be picking them up until late afternoon.

“You’re early,” he accused, trying to escape pillow-duty and finding that his arm had at some point wrapped around Scott’s waist, holding him close.

“I’m not.”  Virgil came closer, amusement fading to concern as he reached for Scott’s head and gently probed with his fingers.  Parker had told him, then.  “You two slept the whole day away.”

Scott grumbled discontentedly and burrowed further into Gordon’s shoulder, away from Virgil’s investigations.  Their medic brother was not so easily deterred, however, and a subconscious hand trying to bat him away was instead captured and passed to Gordon to restrain.

“How is he?” Gordon asked, obediently clasping his brother’s wrist to stop him pushing Virgil away.  He was fairly confident that Scott was fine, but Virgil was undeniably better at diagnoses.

“Stubbornly thick-headed,” Virgil concluded after another few moments.  Blue eyes opened a crack, and the wrist in Gordon’s grip tugged harder. Virgil, ever attuned to their biggest brother, immediately swooped in with a penlight, which Scott grumbled loudly about.  “Should clear up in the next day or two.  Welcome back to the land of the living, Scott.”

“Did you have to shine that in my eye the moment I woke up?” their big brother complained, sounding much more like himself again.

Virgil was thoroughly unrepentant.

“Get dressed, you two,” he said.  “It’s time to go home.”

“Already?” Scott winced, dragging himself upright and raising a hand to the side of his head.  “Urgh.”

“It’s late afternoon, as agreed,” Virgil informed him.  “Don’t worry, you’ve got another forty-eight hours of downtime to go.”  He eyed them both, and Gordon realised that despite Scott raising his head they were still rather tangled together.  “I’ll meet you in the drawing room when you’re ready. Don’t go back to sleep.”

“F.A.B.,” Gordon chirped, unwinding his arm from around Scott’s waist as his older brother peeled himself away from him.

One more assessing look from warm brown eyes – mostly focused Scott’s way – and Virgil left the room.

“Well, I’d say that’s time to move,” Gordon quipped once the door shut, leaving the two of them alone. “You good to get up?”

“I’m fine,” Scott retorted, inelegantly clambering off the large bed and narrowly avoiding face-planting the floor.  There was the stubborn big brother Gordon knew.  “Get dressed, Gordon.”

Gordon eyed him as he regained his balance and headed for his packed bag, before concluding that Scott was probably stubborn enough to not fall over.  As the Creighton-Ward Manor was far from small, he himself had his own room, which was where his bag was waiting for him, so with one last assessing look at his big brother, he slipped out to get his stuff.

Scott was no doubt expecting him to go downstairs to join Virgil and Lady Penelope once he was presentable – and on any other occasion, Gordon would be doing exactly that, especially as he’d managed to sleep the day away instead of spending it with Lady Penelope as planned – but he was still concerned about Scott, so with his bag slung over his shoulder he returned to his brother’s room.

His brother was dressed and attempting to tame his bedhead when he walked in, pot of gel on the vanity table as he glowered at the mirror.  Of course, Scott couldn’t possibly be seen with a hair out of place.  Gordon rolled his eyes as his brother’s reflection winced, fingers obviously catching the origin of his concussion.

“Sit down,” he ordered. Scott jumped, apparently having missed him coming up behind him despite looking in the mirror.

“Gordon?”

“That’s me, bro.” Gordon hooked a foot around the stool and yanked it behind Scott before putting a hand on his shoulder and pressing down.  “Sit.”

“What do you want?” Scott didn’t budge, a hint of suspicion in his voice.  “I’m almost done.”

“You’ve barely started,” Gordon rebuked, flicking a particularly flyaway section of hair.  “Virgil won’t wait forever, you know.”  He put both his hands on Scott’s shoulders and pushed again.  His brother reluctantly sank down onto the seat.

“Gordon, what are you doing?” Scott demanded.  Gordon let his bag fall to the lushly carpeted floor and scooped up the hair gel.

“Doing your hair.”

“What?”  His brother swivelled around sharply, before wincing. Gordon rolled his eyes again and gently prodded him into facing forwards again.

“You can watch what I’m doing in the mirror,” he reminded him, running his fingers lightly through his brother’s bedhead.  At least part of it was obviously caused by using his shoulder as a pillow.

Blue eyes locked with his suspiciously via the mirror.  He grinned at them.

“Relax, Scott,” he soothed. “I’m not going to do anything you wouldn’t.”  He wasn’t even sure why he’d decided to take over his brother’s hair-care routine, except Scott had looked like he was going to fall over the way he’d been standing, and maybe he was still worried.

“You’d better not,” his brother threatened, which was also a surrender and permission.  Gordon ran his fingers through a few more times, catching the flyaway strands and reminding them where they usually settled before scooping some gel out of the pot to work into the brown hair.

It wasn’t quite up to Scott’s usual standards, because Gordon wasn’t Scott and didn’t usually use so much hair gel – and also because no matter how gentle he was, Scott still flinched when his fingers brushed where he’d been bashed.  Still, it was a pretty good attempt, if he did say so himself, and Scott wasn’t voicing any complaints.

Then again, Scott was probably surprised Gordon had done as promised and not added any twists to the hairstyle.  Another time, maybe.

“All done,” he declared, after one last time running his fingers through.  Scott squinted at the mirror, touching his hair lightly, before passing judgement.

“It’ll do.”

Coming from Scott, that was suspiciously high praise.  Gordon eyed him as he pulled himself to his feet.

“You okay, bro?” he asked.

“Fine.”  The response was so fast it had to be automatic, but Scott made no move to retract it.  Instead, he reclaimed the pot of hair gel and tossed it in his bag.  Gordon stooped to retrieve his own, slinging it over one shoulder.  “Best not to keep Virgil waiting, otherwise he’ll come see what’s taking us so long.”

He wasn’t wrong. Gordon was somewhat surprised their brother hadn’t already returned to check up on them.  He said as much, and Scott gave a grimaced smile.

Big brother could dish the smothering, but he wasn’t so good at taking it.

“I’m fine,” he said, despite the fact they both knew his head was still hurting him.  Scott shouldered his bag and headed towards the door, only to pause and wrap an arm around Gordon’s shoulders in a clear half-hug. “But thanks for looking out for me last night.”

The words were accompanied by a smile, and Gordon reached out to squeeze him back.

“What else was I supposed to do?” he asked, only half-joking.  “You’re my brother.  I get dibs on messing with you, not some drunk down the pub.”

Scott huffed out a laugh. “Love you, too, little brother. Now we need to find Virgil before he starts worrying.”

As though he thought he’d ever stopped.  Still, Gordon grinned.  “Let’s get you home, big brother.”

[torialeysha]

Cold feet - Part 16

Bakers redemption

A/N: I’m on a roll guys! Your love, patience and support for this story fuels my fire for writing, a fire I thought I had lost and for that I am eternally grateful. Thank you all <3

Songs: Carry me home - Jorja Smith ft Maverick Sabre

Can’t buy happiness - Tash Sultana

Fortunately the awkwardness of the journey home was lost on you as all you could do was think about Alfie. You questioned the sincerity of his visit and wondered why it had taken him so long to realise you had lied about the ridiculous possibility of him not being the father of your unborn baby? He had asked you for forgiveness. A shot at redemption. Could you give it to him? Could you allow him another chance when he had already let you down not once but twice? Were you foolish enough to give him the opportunity to do it again? Would he do it again? He said that he had seen the error of his ways and that he really did want the baby. Did he mean it? Could you believe him even if he did? He said he could prove it to you and you were curious to see how. Silently you pondered, driving yourself insane with question after question that regrettably you didn’t have the answers to.

After a tedious battle with the London traffic the car finally pulled up outside the opulent townhouse Charles was renting. The atmosphere still frosty and tense as you crossed it’s threshold. You were in the process of removing your coat when one of the butlers collared Charles.

“There’s a Mr Changretta waiting for you in the lounge, sir.” He announced casually as he took your coat. Your hair immediately stood on end.

“Ok. I’ll be right there. Meanwhile, could you please fetch Ms Y/L/N something to eat.” Charles hands his coat to the butler then turns to you. “I won’t be long. Feel free to start without me.” He told you coldly. But you were no longer worried about food and more concerned about the fact that Luca Changretta was in the next room.

Fraught, you staggered to the dining room and began to pace, anxiously wondering what the occupants next door were discussing. You manoeuvred towards the wall that separated the lounge from the dining room and placed your ear against it, hoping that the divide was thin enough to be able to hear their conversation. Their muffled voices vibrated through the wall. You edged closer to the crack of the locked double doors that connected the two rooms and the voices got slightly clearer.

“...And you really trust this broad? You’re sure she isn’t the problem?” It was Luca’s voice.

“Of course I trust her! I wouldn’t have involved her if I didn’t.”

“How much does she know?”

“Hardly anything. She asked me some questions about the club. Why I bought it for her and why I insisted I put it in her name and not mine, but her curiosity is only natural, Luca.”

Your stomach rolled realising they were talking about you.

“What did you tell her?”

“I fed her some bullshit about wanting to give her the world.”

“Nice. So she doesn’t know anything about the money coming in from New York?”

“No, I take care of the books and I keep them locked in my safe.”

“Good.”

There was a brief silence before Luca spoke again.

“Tell me, Cuz, what are your feelings for this broad? You still intend on marrying her when this is all over?”

Cuz? Why would Luca call Charles that?

“Yes. I love her.”

Charles’ confession made you feel sick.

There’s another long pause before Luca speaks again.

“Then you have my blessing. But I’m warning ya, I don’t know if my dear Aunt will be as accepting. You know how she only wants the best for her son.”

Cousin? Aunt? Son? You felt the colour drain from your face as realisation dawned on you.

“Y/N is best for me. Now can we please stop discussing my personal life and get back to business.”

“Of course. I hear what you’re saying about the Jew but we need him alive for now. I think he’ll be able to help us deal with Thomas Shelby.”

“Solomon’s is tight with Shelby. There’s no way he’d sell him out.”

“Oh, he will.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I’m going to make him an offer he can’t refuse... Don’t look so worried, Chuck, all will be revealed soon. You just carry on doing what you’re doing and remember that we’re doing this per la famiglia. Luca’s foreign tongue made you shudder. “Once Solomon’s, Shelby and Sabini are dealt with. London will be ours for the taking.”

You pulled away from the door just as Charles was asking about Sabini. You had heard enough.

It was worse than you or Tommy had anticipated. Charles and Luca wasn’t just business relations, they were blood relations. His money was their money. Your time and efforts had been in vain. Any hope of sabotaging their connection was gone. Replaced with an overwhelming sense of alarming trepidation. You had to leave. There was no way you could stay now knowing what you know.

The main door of the dining room swung open, startling you.

“I’m terribly sorry miss. I didn’t mean to scare you.” The flustered housemaid apologised as she shuffled in with your supper.

“Please don’t apologise.” You told her shakily.

“You’re white as a sheet! I must’ve given you a proper fright. Poor thing. Sit ya self down and I’ll fetch you something to drink.”

“No, no. I’m fine. It’s just-I’ve received word today that my friend isn’t well and it’s come as quite a shock. I would like to check on her to see if she’s feeling better. Could you let Mr Fenton know that I’m going to visit her and I won’t be back until later.”

“Of course, Miss, but what about your tea?” She signals to the silver tray she’s carrying.

“I’ve suddenly lost my appetite. I’ll eat it when I return.”

“Ok, Miss. I’ll put it by for later.” She took off with the tray of food and without a second thought you made for the door without even stopping for your coat or purse.

In a daze you wandered down the street, feeling hopelessly lost in a city that had been your home for 20 odd years. You headed north, knowing that regardless of your current uncertainty towards Alfie you would have to warn him and get word to Tommy. Without your purse you had no money to jump on a bus or the underground. Your only option was to trudge the busy late afternoon streets to your destination. It would take roughly an hour to get from Central to Camden, probably the same amount of time it would take Charles to suspect something was amiss. It was a distressing thought that caused you to pick up pace. To make up time you decided to take a shortcut that lead you along the river and down the canals. It was a risky move as the muddy banks of the canals were refuge to some unsavoury characters - mainly drunkards - desperate men that would find easy prey on a young woman trekking the waterways on her own.

The sun was slowly sinking into twilight by the time you had reached Camden lock. Despite your exhaustion you were relieved to have made it in one piece but you shouldn’t have spoke too soon. In the distance you could see a group of what looked like 3 men huddled together along the path which you needed to pass to get across to the bakery. Your blistered feet slowed but it was too late, they had already spotted you. You quickly tried to think of an alternative route. The only other way was to swim across but jumping in and braving the grim green water that was frothing with rubbish and other questionable substances wasn’t tempting to say the least. There was nothing you could do now except carry on walking with your chin held high as if their shady presence didn’t intimidate you. You argued with yourself as you approached that maybe you had jumped to a brash assumption and that they were in fact a harmless trio who would just let you pass without a second glance. As you got closer they rose from their makeshift perches and swayed towards you. It was then you knew that your brash assumption had been correct.

“Evening treacle.” One slurred. “What brings you down ‘ere then?” He smiled, revealing a row of yellow teeth that were gradually rotting a browny black. You ignored him and tried to pass but he obstructed you.

“Let me pass!” You ordered him.

“Now then, that’s not nice. You could at least ask nicely. Say please.” He slurred.

“Please let me pass.” You said through gritted teeth.

The other two came to stand beside him. Panicking, you tried hard to conceal the trembling of your body.

“Beg.” He tells you through a snarl.

“I love it when they beg.” One of the other men chimed in, earning a chortle from his soapy comrades.

You laugh as if joining in with their sadistic merriment. Then quick as a whippet you tried to barge through their burly blockade, effectively knocking one of the men into the drink. The middle one grabbed you. You turned as he did so, kneeing him between the legs. He dropped to the floor and you made to escape but was grabbed again by the last remaining man. His filthy hand covered your mouth, cutting you off mid scream. You thrashed in his arms. Your eyes widening as the man on the floor rose slowly.

“We’ve got a feisty one ‘ere, Del.”

“Let’s see how feisty she is once I’ve finished with ‘er.” The man you knocked to the floor was now fully upright, stalking towards you.

You closed your eyes, helplessly awaiting your fate.

“Get your filthy fucking hands off ‘er!”

Your eyes shot open at the unmistakable voice coming from behind you.

The man turned suddenly with you still in his arms. Your eyes landed on Alfie and Ollie and you wanted to cry out in relief.

“Mr Solomon’s - I was only helping the poor Lass. She was lost, ya see.” He muttered a sheepish reply. His arms loosening around you. You pushed away from him stricken and lurched into Alfie’s arms.

“Are you ok, Yahalom?” He asked, pushing away the hair from your face and checking you over for any sign of injury.

You noded, clinging to him.

“Run!” One of the men shouted and they both fled in opposite directions. The one who had hold of you tried to leg-it past Alfie who with a flick of his cane tripped him before he could get any further. Alfie pushed you to Ollie, and pounced on top of the fallen man. Savagely he landed a shocking set of bone crunching blows upon the sputtering and sobbing man on the floor.

You started to shake uncontrollably. Your chest heaving to draw in breaths.

“Alfie, stop now. You’re scaring ‘er!” Ollie yelled at Alfie who stopped immediately.

“Get ‘er out of ‘ere!” He shouted.

You felt Ollie tug on your arm.

“No-I c-can’t go-I need t-to talk to A-alfie.” You chattered numbly.

“It’s ok, Y/N. Let’s wait for him inside and you can talk to him then, yeah?” Ollie asked you soothingly. You stopped resisting, allowing him to guide you over the bridge of the canal and inside the huge double door entrance of the bakery. He set you down on a crate.

“Are you ok?” Ollie asked. Kneeling in front of you.

You shook your head from side to side, unable to speak through the loud chattering of your teeth.

“We were just leaving. You’re lucky we spotted you, ya know.”

You didn’t answer him. Instead you reached out and gave his hand a grateful squeeze.

Alfie exploded through the doors, making you and Ollie jump. His blood splattered face was a fit of pure rage.

“How many fucking times have I told you not to walk the canals on your own? If me and him would have left ‘ere half hour ago like we were supposed to, what would have happened then, ay?” His eyes flickered as he tortured himself pointlessly with the sickening possibilities.

“Alright, Alfie. Calm down, ay? We left at the right time and luckily Y/N weren’t hurt-“ Ollie started calmly before Alfie interrupted him.

“- You sure they didn’t hurt you?” Alfie asked.

“I’m sure.”

“The fuck was you thinking, Pet?” His stern voice was slightly softer now.

“I-I wasn’t-“

“-Where’s your coat?” He asked suddenly. “Them cunts take it?”

“No, I left it behind-there was n-no time- I had t-to get out of there fast-I left my coat behind along with my p-purse-I’ve had to walk from Central-thats why I t-took the sh-shortcut.” You stuttered senselessly, barely pausing to take a breath. Alfie took off his coat and draped it over your shoulders. You pulled it tightly around yourself. His musky scent clung to the heavy wool material that was still warm with the heat of his body. You inhaled deeply, feeling instantly calmer. “I couldn’t stay there, Alfie. I had to leave, I had to get out of there!”

“Calm down, Yahalom, and tell me exactly what’s happened?” He ordered, his eyes wild.

“It’s Charles. He and Lu-ca Changretta are related. They’re cousins. I-I overheard them talking. They said something about money coming in from New York and taking over London. They’re going to take down everyone in their way - you, Tommy, even Sabini. Everything Tommy said is true and there’s nothing I can do about it. We have to warn Thomas.”

Alfie exchanged a look with Ollie.

“Did he know you were listening in on his conversation?” Ollie asked.

“No. But he’ll know I’m missing by now and maybe he’ll put two and two together. I told the housemaid to tell him I was visiting an ill friend but I’m not sure he’ll believe that.”

“Right then. Well, first things first.” Alfie put his arms around your shoulders and lifted you gently from where you rested. “I need to get you out of here.”

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m going to stay here and help sort this.” You told him wilfully.

“You’ve done all you can, pet. Let me and Tommy deal with this now.”

“So all of this was for nothing? Me staying with Charles, weeks of misery and sneaking around. That was all for nothing?”

“This isn’t your fight, Y/N. It never was your fight.” Alfie sighed.

“They’re planning on killing you, Alfie - the father of my unborn baby. Tell me how that isn’t my fight?” You sobbed angrily.

He grabbed your shoulders, shaking you lightly.

“Look at me.” He said firmly. Your wide eyes rose to his. “I can handle it, right. What I can’t handle is the worry of anything happening to you. Which is why I’m getting you out of ‘ere, even if I have to drag you kicking and screaming. I’m taking you and that unborn baby of mine to safety. You ‘ear me? That’s our priority now, yeah?”

“...Yeah.” You whispered, knowing he was right.

“Come on.”

You held on to him as you walked, your weary feet stinging with every faltered step you took.

“You need me to carry you?” He asked.

You shook your head weakly.

The sun had now almost set but the brightness outside was still blinding as you emerged from the darkness of the distillery.

“Get in the car.” Alfie ordered.

You did as he said, sliding into the front passenger seat and trying to avoid looking across the canal where your attacker still lay, a lifeless crumpled, mess on the floor. You blocked it out and focused on Alfie through the windscreen instead. He was leant into Ollie, telling him something. Ollie gave him a contrite nod and handed him what looked like a set of keys. With a pat on the back, Alfie left him to climb in to the drivers seat. He started the engine.

“Isn’t Ollie coming with us?”

“Na. He’s got to sort a few things out for me.” He replied, shoving the shift stick into gear and pulling off. You watched him intently. An unsolicited heat crept over you as he manoeuvred the machine with a confident ease that you couldn’t help but find alluring.

“Where are we going?” You asked croakily.

“Let me worry about that, right. You look exhausted. Rest your head and I’ll wake you when we get there.”

Too weak to argue you did just that. Leaning your head against the window which was slick with condensation. The soft purr of the cars engine lulled you rapidly into a deep and dreamless sleep.

You were roused from your confined slumber by Alfie as he lifted you from the passenger seat into his arms. Your neck throbbed where you had laid awkwardly propped up against the window for God knows how long. You let the aching heaviness of your head rest against Alfies chest as he carried you. A whooshing noise echoed familiarly in the blustery background, intertwined with what sounded like crunching gravel beneath Alfie’s feet as he walked. Curiously your sluggish eyes peered at your surroundings. You could just about make out the silhouette of a building and an unusual looking tree against the dark blue of the night sky.

Exhausted, your head fell back onto Alfie’s chest and you buried your face in the crook of his neck to shield it from the tenacious chill of the night air. He came to a stop holding you tightly with one arm as the other searched his trouser pocket. A jingling of keys and the sound of the lock turning, then you were finally inside and out of the cold.

The smell of fresh paint and varnish filled your nostrils as he carried you over the foreign residence. After kicking the door closed with his foot, you felt him ascend a set of stairs in the darkness, effortlessly, as if he was already well acquainted with the steps. A door creaked open and then shortly after you were being lowered. You unfolded from him as he placed you on the soft cushioning of a mattress. Your head sunk into the fluffy pillows, your arms stretching across the width of the spacious bed. Your eyes opened when you realised Alfie wasn’t joining you.

“Don’t leave me.” You begged.

“Sssh.” He soothed softly. His heavy hand brushing back your hair from your face. “You’re safe now, Yahalom.”

Your eyes closed, his reassuring tone and tender touch settling you back to sleep.

You awoke with a start. Looking around the huge room that was now highlighted by an orange hue emanating from the fire that crackled and danced in the fireplace adjacent to the bed. The ceaseless whooshing you heard earlier broke in from a set of french doors to your left and you raised from the bed to investigate. Pulling back the floor length curtains that decorated them, you were shocked to see the mosaicked balcony and the beach landscape that it overlooked. At a glance it appeared that Alfie had stolen you away from the perilous situation in London and brought you to Margate - your safe haven. But what was this place? It wasn’t a B&B or a hotel because you remembered that Alfie had entered with a key - you assumed the same key Ollie had handed him before you left. You glanced around the room once more, the unfamiliarity of your surroundings causing you great unease. And it was quiet, too quiet. Where was Alfie?

You poked your nose out of the bedroom door and peeked down the length of the darkened hallway. A sliver of warm light shone from a partially open door of one of the rooms and cautiously you ambled towards it. You lingered outside, your nerves settling when you heard Alfie’s hushed tone beyond the wood.

“Did you get hold of the rabbi?”

There was a long pause before Alfie spoke again.

“I don’t care what fucking time it is just keep trying. I want him up ‘ere by the end of the week, before the fight... Yeah? Well make-fucking-sure.” You heard a crashing bang which you guessed was the receiver of the telephone being put down on whoever Alfie was talking to.

“Are you gonna stand out there all fucking night or you gonna come in?” He shouted out to you, causing you to smile.

You entered slowly, stalling in the doorway.

Alfie was sat at a desk, a much neater, more fancier desk than the one he usually occupied at the bakery.

“You alright?” He asked, watching you intently as you came to sit in front of him.

You nodded absentmindedly, too busy taking in the plush interior of the room.

“Did you speak to Tommy?” You asked eagerly, your eyes finally meeting his. He waited a moment before answering you.

“Na, I ain’t been able to get hold of him. I’ll try again in the morning...You sure you’re alright?”

“Where are we?” You queried, ignoring his question.

“Margate.”

“No, I mean here.” You pointed to where you were sat. “Whose house is this?”

“This is our house.” He said casually.

You look at him stunned. Your mouth agape.

“Our house?”

He nodded simply.

“W-when? How?” You stuttered, dumbfounded.

“I bought it a while back, after I saw you again at the Eden. It was in a bit of a two an’ eight when I bought it. Taken me an’ the boys a little while to do up.”

“I’m confused.” You shook your head. “You’ve bought a house in Margate? But we’re so far away from London, from your businesses. What about the bakery?”

“I’m retiring, Yahalom. I’ve sold up all the properties I own and I’ve handed the bakery down to Ollie. This was my plan all along. The only way I knew I could keep you safe.”

It took you a moment to process everything and still you were stunned speechless.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“I thought this was what you wanted?” He cites.

“It was-“

Alfie narrowed his eyes at your use of past tense.

��-I mean is.” You corrected swiftly before carrying on “It’s just come as a bit of a shock is all.”

“Hmm.” He let out a suspicious grunt. “It’s not the best timing after the day you’ve had, I get that. But that was out of my control wern’it?”

You nodded solemnly. Still trying to wrap your head around everything.

“I thought you’d be happy, Yahalom?”

“I am.” You frowned.

“At least show it then. Crack a smile or summin. You’ve got a face like a slapped arse at the minute.” You heard a frustrated annoyance creep into the grimmess of his voice.

“I don’t know how I feel about it, if I’m being honest. The last few months have been a whirlwind for me. I haven’t slept properly in days, weeks even. Weary to the bone. Wracked with guilt and worry. I honestly don’t know wether I’m coming or going. And now you’re telling me that you’re selling up. Leaving behind everything you’ve worked so hard to build and for what?”

“For us!” He barked. “For us to be together without the worry of someone hurting you to hurt me. And yeah, I’ve worked hard, I’ve earn’t my money, however, it’s time for me to rest now and enjoy the fruits of my labour.”

“I’m not sure, Alf...” You hummed uneasily.

“What’s there to be unsure of?”

“I still ain’t sure this is what you really want!” You snapped frustratedly. “A quiet life by the sea, a child you never wanted...I just can’t see it.” You admitted sadly.

He exhaled harshly, rising from his desk and stepping round to extend a hand to you.

“Come with me. I wanna show you something.”

Reluctantly you took his offered hand and let him guide you back out into the hallway and along to a room that was situated next to the one you had been resting in earlier.

He opened the door and moved aside for you to enter.

The waxing moon shon brightly through the bare windows, lighting up the room with it’s spectacular lunar glow. You stepped through noticing immediately the cot that lay new and empty against the far wall, next to it was a matching chest of drawers and a rocking horse that looked like it had been plucked from a fairground carousel.

Your eyes shot to Alfie whose bear like frame was leant in the doorway studying your reaction.

“When did you do this?”

“A couple of days ago. The room needs a lick of paint but I thought you might wanna choose the colour.” He came to join you in the centre of the room.

“So you did all this before you come to see me? Before you were even certain that the baby yours?...Why?”

He was silent for a moment, deep in thought.

He shrugged. “I s’pose deep down I knew you were lying and that the baby was mine... or maybe I didn’t fucking care, I dunno... doing this...it just felt right.”

“But you said-“

“-I know what I said but saying don’t mean fuck all does it. Actions speak louder than words.” He motions to the room. “And this speaks fucking volumes, dunnit. I mean if this doesn’t prove to you that this is what I really want then I don’t know what will.”

Reassurance drifted over you as you looked once again around the unfinished nursery.

“Say something.” He requested quietly.

Wordlessly you rushed to him and threw your arms around his broad shoulders.

“You like it then? You’re happy?” He confirmed uncertainly.

“I do. I am. It’s...wonderful! Thank you!” You choked a reply, your voice struggling past the forming lump in your throat.

He pulled you closer, his shoulders relaxing as if a weight had been lifted off them.

“You want me to show you round the rest of the house?” He whispered gruffly into your hair.

“Not tonight. Show me tomorrow in the daylight so I can properly take in the beauty of it all.”

“Alright. Well, what shall we do now then?” You were sure you heard a seductive undertone in his question and took full advantage.

“Take me to our bed.”

“You ain’t gotta ask me twice.” He said. His eyes lighting up at your words.

You squealed when he lifted you in his arms and carried you to the next room.

“Cor blimey. You’ve got heavier already.” He huffs.

“Oh give over, I ain’t even showing properly yet. You’re just getting weaker with age, old man.” You teased him.

“Oi! I’ll have you know that there’s nothing wrong with my stamina and I will gladly prove that to you in a minute.” He threatened hotly. Sending your pulse racing. “There’s just one more thing I’ve got to do first.”

He set you down carefully on your own two feet.

“Can’t it wait?” You whined as he stepped away from you and headed towards the door.

“It won’t take me a minute.” He assured you.

You stood in the middle of the once unfamiliar room that you now knew was yours and Alfies. Sighing happily, you glided to the french doors and tried the handle. They opened willingly under your touch. The chill of the night air was refreshing as you stepped out on to the balcony. Leaning on the stone balaustrade, you observed the unrelenting waves that stretched the distance, relishing in the peacefulness of their crashing melody. Nothing could ruin this moment, not even the ugliness of the Changretta situation. All that mattered right now was your future with Alfie, a future that this morning never even existed.

“Yahalom?” Alfie called, having returned.

You spun to look at him. He marched skittishly towards you, his hands behind his back, as he joined you on the balcony.

“I know I’ve asked you this before but as you so poignantly pointed out to me the other day, it’s a proposal that has since expired. So, I’m gonna ask you again... Y/N Y/L/N will you marry me?” He asked gruffly, his eyes so intense you thought they could set you on fire. You gasped unexpectedly. Although it was the second time he had asked you, it was the first time you had heard him say those words aloud.

“Oh, Alfie. Of course I’ll marry you.”

“Thank fuck for that. Here then.” He produced a ring that was hidden in his clenched fist behind his back. Grabbing your hand he slipped it on your finger. You stared down at it in awe. A ruby once again burned brightly on your finger but it wasn’t the one you were used to. You frowned down at the foreignness of the rings delicate beauty and the circle of winking diamonds that surrounded the red gem like a halo.

“I searched high and low for the other one in the bakery but couldn’t find it. So I bought you another one. D’you like it?”

“It’s beautiful... I was just expecting to see the old one.” You replied, your heart sinking at the thought of your first engagement ring being lost forever. It was only supposed to be a temporary ring, taken from Alfie’s pinky finger until he had gotten you a proper one. There wasn’t much to it just a thick gold band with a faceted ruby so red it was hypnotising. Back then you had persuaded Alfie not to buy a replacement, that you wanted to keep his one as every time you looked at it it reminded you of him. Now, thanks to yourself you’ll never see it again.

“That’s old hat now that one though, innit? a token of who we used to be. We’ve been through a lot of shit, right, shit I wanna leave in the past. I want us to have a fresh start, a clean slate, and this house and this ring is where it begins.”

Previous                                                                                                 Next

Tag list: @storm-bjorn @alsheyra @lililolli @jaegers-and-kaijus @lightwoodt @stars-trash-18 @anrm1 @innerpaperexpertcloud @alitheamateur @hardygal69

[all-things-fic]

Mistletoe Jam

A/N: Merry Christmas from me to you. I don’t where this came from, all I know is I lost a lot of sleep trying to get this finished last night. Hope you all enjoy and thanks to anyone who has ever read anything I’ve posted on here.

Title comes from a Luther Vandross song purely because I like these lyrics in particular - ‘Glad I got big feet cause they're so good for dancin'. Glad you got big legs cause they're so good when we're romancin'

Shoutout to @waitingfortwilight, @harryfeatgaga and @haute-romance-quotidienne for reading this here and there.

~*~

You closed your eyes and let the back of your head hit the headrest behind you in the passenger seat.

“Swear I’m going to change my name,” you muttered under your breath as you heard your son whine Mum for the fifth time in a row.

Harry chuckled in the driver's seat next to you, fore and middle finger resting against his lips as he leaned his elbow on the drivers side door. You were sat in standstill traffic, looking to exit the car park of Cheshire Oaks.

You had a death wish coming here on Christmas Eve but unfortunately in your mad dash attempt to get out of London, you’d left an entire sack of presents behind that were sat next to your tree that had been up for all of a week.

To say you weren’t looking forward to hoovering up after it when you returned to the big smoke in the new year would be an understatement.

However, the actual shopping itself hadn’t been too bad. You’d tag teamed. Harry took your eldest boy with him, leaving you to take your daughter into the one place you knew would keep her occupied: Pets at Home. You’d deal with the constant requests of getting a rabbit over the next 48 hours, if it meant she was quiet enough to allow Harry to grab whatever toy she had suddenly requested from Father Christmas since you’d arrived back up North. 

“Mum,” came the whine again, causing you to look around in your chair and see the culprit. Hidden behind a Barbie doll that had been completely stripped naked, baring a pair of cowboy boots, you found the inquisitive blue eyes of your son.

You spoke his name, watching the way he dropped the doll to show you his cheeky smile. “Can we stay up late and look for Santa?,” he asked, his head slightly tilting as he did so. He really was pulling out all the stops today.

Staying silent, you felt Harry’s gaze look at you from the corner of his eye before he looked up at his son through the rear view mirror. “Doesn’t work like that mate,” he started, causing your little boy to turn his gaze away from yours. “Need to go to sleep, or else he doesn’t show up. Good boys and girls sleep in their own beds,” you heard Harry pause to allow the latter part of his sentence to resonate, as much as it could with a toddler, before he continued anymore.

Staying silent you thought Harry was going to continue, however instead when your gaze moved to look at him, you saw the way he appeared to be holding back an expletive at how someone cut him up to get into a parking space that had become available while you sat in idle traffic.

“Dad’s right, baby,” you agreed, watching the way his face fell into a small frown. His mouth fell slightly agape, you cutting in before he could start to whine. “Hey, you know Father Christmas is watching you right now don’t you-“

His mouth shut as his bottom lip started to protrude, his face rolling to look out the window to his right like he was some moody singer filming a pensive part of an emotive music video. 

“He’s sulking now,” you muttered, turning back in your seat.

“Am not,” he shot back, your mutter obviously not low enough to go unnoticed. You knew it was wrong given he was probably far too over stimulated as it was, but you couldn’t quite help it.

From the corner of your vision your saw that he started to go stiff in his seat, stretched out and showcasing his frustration. Still idle in traffic, you watched Harry turn in his seat to turn his gaze on his son.

“Enough,” he spoke assertively, hand pressing against the taut legs of his son. “You’ve been good all morning,” he continued, seeing no change in his son's temper. 

“One,” he started, causing you to shift slightly in your seat. “Two,” you turned to look at him, seeing the way your little boy shifted, body relaxing. “Good boy, sit back nicely for Dad-“ he manoeuvred back in his drivers seats lowering his voice as he continued, “-so he can get off this bloody car park in one piece.”

***

Anne’s house just smelled like Christmas.

Of fresh baking and spiced Christmas candles. It was cosy too. The kind of warmth that enveloped you the minute you stepped foot into the hallway from the porch. 

She smiled a knowing smile when she saw your frazzled hair once you pulled off your winter hat and quickly took your hand, dragging you in the opposite direction that Harry had taken the kids.

“I have mulled wine,” she passed comment, turning to look at your face from over her shoulder. “No? How about a glass of prosecco?” 

“Isn’t it a bit early?” You said, eyes taking in the mountain of washing up in her sink, as you messed with the waistband of your jeans and sorted out your jumper. 

“Never, not when it’s Christmas,” she smiled. “Besides I think we’ll both need to be a little bit pissed to attack the mountain of washing up.”

Regardless of receiving an actual answer, she poured the prosecco for you, glass being handed over smoothly before she took to pouring her own. As her eyes lifted from the job, she noticed Harry in the kitchen doorway, removing his gloves and shoving them into the pocket of his black coat.

“Or we could get my lovely son to do it,” she let her gaze move over your shoulder as she sipped from her own delicate glass. 

“Barely got me coat off and you’re already giving me jobs,” he spoke deeply, leaning against the doorframe. Turning to look at him you noticed the way his eyes lovingly shone over at his mother, before they scanned the kitchen like it was some sort of crime scene.

He groaned as his eyes stilled on the sink, immediately catching on as to what was being asked of him. “I’ll do it under one condition,” his eyes cut to yours before moving back to his Mum’s. “You let me wear the gloves.”

Anne laughed, hand covering her mouth as she tried not to splutter her prosecco everywhere. “I have new ones,” she said, with glittery eyes. Before you could even catch onto the gloves and the meaning behind them, your mother-in-law had hidden herself away in the pantry.

Eyes fell to Harry as he placed himself next to you. He loved the confused but oh so intrigued look that you wore. “Just wait,” he hummed, hands pressing against the kitchen surface and nudging his head back to where his mother stood, wordlessly making you move your eyes towards the same direction.

“Managed to find these in the pound shop when I popped into town with Louise, they had others but you know how I am with my sparkle-“

Harry hummed, with his lips twitching into the boyish smile. “Come on,” he moved his hand in come hither motion. “Let me ‘ave at ‘em.”

Without another word Anne tossed the pair of gloves onto the kitchen work surface. Your eyes dropped to the item that clattered thanks to the gaudy diamond that sat - from what you could tell - super glued onto the middle finger of the latex gloves. 

“Pound shop upping its game with the introduction of an old Swarovski-esc cocktail ring, I see.”

You didn’t quite know what to say, as you watched your husband marvel with humour at the monstrosities that he seemed eager to don. 

“Where’s the washing up liquid then?” Harry said shaking off his coat and quickly taking to unbuttoning the sleeves of his shirt and rolling them up to the crook of his elbow. “Dishes aren’t gonna do themselves.” 

The laughter of sheer delight that left Anne’s chest cause you to cut your eyes over to her. It was nice to see her in such a way, carefree and in awe of her baby over the silliest thing. You often wondered if the face she wore looking at both Gemma and Harry was an expression that flirted across your face over the littlest thing that your own son and daughter did. 

You eyes watched Harry as he snatched at the gloves, pulling the red latex over his hands and making them stretch against his ring-clad fingers.

“Wha’ size did you get these in,” he moaned around a husky laugh, his fingers clenching underneath the latex into a fist before expanding once more.

“Didn’t look, darling,” Anne nonchalantly replied, swiping up her phone and snapping a picture of Harry off-guard. He frowned lightly over at her, only for Anne to softly laugh. “Since I’m no longer needed here,” she continued, picking up the bottle from the middle of the kitchen island. “I have some gran-babies to cuddle and annoy since my children no longer enjoy my offers of affection.”

“No, we just enjoy your successful attempts at free labour more. Clearly,” Harry shook his soapy-sud hands out, flicking dishwater in the process.

“I’m letting you stay for free over the festive period and feeding you, ‘s the least you can do.”

He couldn’t argue with that one, his eyes falling to yours as you sipped your drink wearing a smile that was far more triumphant looking than it should be.

“Don’t know why you’ve got a face on you like tha’,” he started, grabbing at the tea towel next to him. “You’re drying.”

The very same tea towel came flying at you, your hand swiping to move your half filled glass to save a spillage and trying to defend yourself. 

You didn’t make any effort to move as Harry turned off the tap and got to making sure that all the pots, pans and plates were submerged underneath the surface.

The way his back looked underneath his shirt as he moved his hands around the sink was attractive. It sounded daft and if you weren’t coherent enough you’d blame the prosecco, but even the back of him glowed from happiness (and maybe an extra serving of dessert or two). 

Breaking the silence Harry said, “Need to up me ring game.”

You watched the way he shook out his hand, soapy suds once again flicking against the kitchen counter. “Old Mrs Claus, looking to play away.”

“What are you on about?” You said, leaning against the kitchen counter, hand reaching for the packet which had once held the washing up gloves. Eyes took in the label, flicking it over to read the product description to yourself. 

“Wearing her diamond on the incorrect finger, innit.”

“Probably got a thing for one of the elves. Husband’s let himself go a bit-“

“Santa or me?” He chuckled.

You smiled against the lip of your champagne flute, eyes moving upwards to see the profile of your husband’s face as he stopped all washing up to look at you. “All I’m saying is maybe only leave one mince pie out for Santa this year when you’re helping the kids set up the plate.”

“Look, Santa is a strapping lad,” he spoke with conviction. “He can’t help it, if Mrs Claus is a feeder.” 

“I am not a feeder, Harry,” you laughed, throwing the tea towel back at him. 

“Darling, I don’t know what kind of role play you’re into but maybe this is something we should pick up after we’ve put the kids to bed.” 

“Was just about to ask you the same thing,” you bit back, eyes once again dropping down the packaging that encased the gloves. “Glamourous red and pearly washing up gloves,” you cleared your throat, eye flickering up to see the way his face had pulled into a smile, as he added another plate to drying rack. 

“These fun and stylish gloves make even the dirtiest jobs look fabulous!”

“I can concur-“

Smiling, and hearing it lace your voice, you continued, “The pair of gloves are not only practical but they are complete with a fur lining, pearl bracelet-“

“To match my necklace-“

“-and a superbly sized diamond.”

“Superbly sized diamond, only the best for Mrs Claus.” 

“Funny Secret Santa gift for women-“

“And men-,” Harry interjected. 

“Both fun and practical for doing the dishes.”

He stayed silent at that one, you too remaining tight lipped waiting for him to say something. When you eyes slowly pulled away from the packet, you met his from across the kitchen island.

You noticed the way his forehead held a light perspiration and the front of his shirt was slightly wet from where he had been leaning a little too closely over the sink.

His hair fell against his forehead and into his eyes, that held an expression that made it so you felt like you couldn’t break your gaze. 

“You know what else rhymes with dishes? Missus.” 

The way his lips twitched as he spoke, the crinkles next to his eyes deepening. “Both fun and practical for doing the missus.”

“Harry,” you chastised him under your breath.

“Wha’,” he drawled, expression mischievous. “I’m telling Mum we’re keeping these.” 

“You do realise that Santa is watching,” you swiped your glass, downing the remainder of your prosecco.

“How’d you know he’s not into it?”

The competitive person in you wanted to counter his question with a question of your own, but instead you chose to give him something to really think about.

Slipping down from the breakfast bar stool, you turned to leave the room, stilling in the doorway.

“That makes two of us then.”

***

Somehow between 1pm and 8pm Harry had managed to remember he was a father of two rather than rampant teenager bringing his girlfriend home for their first Christmas together. 

He’d been the ever-doting Dad after he had left the kitchen, helping the kids put together and decorate the gingerbread house at Anne’s dining table, taking a danger nap with his little girl during an afternoon showing of Frozen on BBC One and cooking a Christmas Eve feast suitable for the whole family. 

Rather than fight against the family pyjamas, instead he lead the charge, helping to encourage the coercing of your son into his along the way. 

He got excited when you pulled out the hand crafted plate that said “Dear Santa” along the top and then “Love from,” followed by the names of your son and daughter along the bottom. 

There was no doubt about it, Harry was all in. 

With a carrot and mince pie now placed on the fireplace, Harry now sat with a sweaty child pressed into his side on Anne’s sofa, with Love Actually on the television going in one ear and out the other. 

Your son had put up a fight to sleep, like his earlier episode in the car let you know he would do. His little body bouncing around before creeping along the landing, only for Harry to peek up the stairs and tell him to come down.

He was a hard child to stay mad at, more so when he cuddled into your side to begin with until getting cosy next to his Dad. Part of you wondered if he was becoming under the weather, given the way his cheeks were rosy and his skin clammy.

“Probably this cheap polyester you’ve forced us into,” Harry playfully jibed, knowing just how mad you’d been when you read that the pyjamas you had bought off the internet under the illusion of being 100% cotton, were in fact only 80% cotton and 20% polyester. 

Your hand was held against his forehead as Harry stood with his limp and sleepy body in the middle of the living room. “He’s definitely coming down with something,” you worried your bottom lip.

Harry dropped his lips to his son's forehead, keeping his voice in a hushed whisper as he reassured you that he just needed to get some rest. 

Falling back into your space on the couch, you half listened as Harry left the room asking you to pause the film so he didn’t miss anything. You fought the urge to roll your eyes at how he and everyone else could by now recite Love Actually considering how it had become a classic for this time of year. 

“I’m just going to nip out and grab those presents from the boot of the car,” he said poking his head around the living room door upon his return. 

Lifting your head from the Radio Times magazine that you’d managed to swipe from Anne as she retired upstairs earlier for a bath and to get straight into bed, you nodded when you met his eyes.

“Want to crack open tha’ bottle of red when I come back?” He suggested, fiddling with the collar of his coat, car keys jingling in his hand. 

“Can’t get too pissed, still gotta wrap some presents-“

“I didn’t hear that,” he replied, shutting the door behind him before heading out to the drive to retrieve the purchases both he and you had made earlier.

In his absence, you took in the cosy living room that surrounded you and felt your body sink into the sofa as you relaxed. This was the least frantic you’d felt all day, regardless of the mountains of wrapping you still had to do.

Your children had been wiped when they finally fell asleep, which was always a win for any parent. It meant that they would probably give you the chance to sleep in a little later than usual for Christmas Day. There was nothing wrong with being hopeful that your gaze met 7am on the alarm clock rather than the usual 5am.

The presents that already sat underneath the tree, made your heart soar. Material things did not mean much at all, but there was no doubt it that every single person in this family - your family - was loved. 

Standing from your seat, you let your feet lead you along the carpet and out into the dimly lit hallway of Anne’s house. Pictures of Harry and Gemma, as children, littered the walls. Some of the frames and pictures replaced since you had first set foot in the family home, with images of your own children and Gemma’s too.

The strong sense of family always comforted you when you stayed at Anne’s. Took a gentle hold of your body and consumed you in the nicest way.

Both glasses and the bottle retrieved, you quickly shut the door of the living room to make sure that barely any of the heat from the roaring fire left the fairly sized and cosy space. 

Sitting on the edge of the couch, you quickly unscrewed the bottle of red and poured two reasonable sized glasses.

Leaving one atop of the coffee table, you plucked up the stem of your glass and sunk back into the cream couch. You knew you’d have to be extra careful as the night went on and more of the rich and acidic drink was consumed. 

The rustling of bags let you know that Harry had returned into the house from outside, with the door of the front room opening not long after. 

“Can feel the cold coming off you,” you commented as he set down the four bags he had retrieved. 

“Cars icing up,” he commented, tugging off his coat and throwing it into the spare armchair over the other side of the room. As he turned, he wore a warm smile once his eyes saw the way you were offering over a glass of wine.

Now stood from your seat, he padded his socked feet against the carpet over to you and gently peeled the stem from your grasp. Sipping the drink and keeping his eyes locked with yours, he noticed the way you dropped your stare to his lips as he licked away the lingering wine residue. 

His free hand cupped at the back of your forearm, cold fingers easy to feel through your thin pyjamas. He soothed his hand up the back of your arm, scooping you into him.

Looking down at you with his softened jawline, he hummed the first thoughts on his mind. “Not kissed you all day-“

And he hadn’t. Things had been manic and the day has mainly been about your children, and present swapping with friends. Outside of the other activities previously thought back on.

“Or night,” you mused in return.

He tutted, “Night’s’not over yet.”

Humming you tilted your head slightly when you felt his hand hit the back of your neck. You shivered from his cold touch as he mumbled his sorry’s against your lips.

With a soft shake of the head you dismissed him and welcomed his tender and gentle kiss. His lips puckered at yours and softly drew you into his every want and desire.

As he went to pull away you lured him back with a soft pull to his top lip, feeling him smile at how you didn’t want to break away. He happily obliged you, opening his mouth wider to devour you, enticed by your plusher figure against his and the warmth radiating off you.

“‘S all this,” he mumbled against your cheek, as he tried to calm his breathing and remember not to lose grip of his wine. 

“Jus’ showing you how much you mean to us-“

“Shouldn’t that be me to you,” he corrected. “Would be lost without you, Mommy.” 

Pulling back you looked at him, welcoming the soft peck he left on your lips as you stared at each other. A small laugh left him as he pressed a second and third peck to your lips in quick succession, “‘s not getting the wrapping done is it?”

“You started it,” you mumbled into your glass as he turned to stand behind you and grabbed for the bags. 

Before he got to them however he stalled all movement, looking at your profile with a gleam in his eye. “I’ll bloody well finish to an’ all, after we’ve done this wrapping.”

“Nothing sexier than a man who gets a job done and get its done proper.”

He laughed down his nose at that, before he groaned as he managed to get his body down to the floor.

“Don’t do things by halves, love. Should know that by now. Now, who’s present was the Barbie kitchen set?”

***

That’s how you spent the majority of the night, rummaging through the plastic bags and putting together two piles of presents for each of your children. 

Once it had been decided who was having what, you did your equal share of the wrapping. Harry actually better at wrapping than you were always led to believe by the man himself. You knew he often opted for the gift wrapping service at a Selfridges or a Harrod’s, but here he was slumming it like everyone else. 

“How’s it feel being like every other peasant and wrapping your own gifts?”

He chuckled, mouth closed as it held onto a piece of sticky tape that was going to be used after he’d neatened up the edges of the LOL drawing set that you’d bought for your little girl.

“Actually very rewarding,” he deadpanned, “‘s probably the wine tha’s making it less of a chore though. That and my incredibly easy on the eye wife cheering me on.”

He did find himself getting bored when he was three quarters of the way through however, finding ways to entertain himself like sticking one of the bows to his forehead to give himself to you as a present, which had you giggling over at him with bleary, wine eyes.

“You’re a daft sod,” you said pressing your outstretched foot into his thigh and enjoying the way he cupped the top of the same foot, keeping it close to him. 

You could tell he was getting restless when he started talking about all manner of different Christmas facts that he’d heard around the studio, or in meetings to break up long sessions of recording or tour logistics. 

“Did you know?” He started, “Paul McCartney earns £250,000 a year off his Christmas song, which is widely regarded as the worst song he ever recorded.”

“Obviously not by you,” you deadpanned, as you concentrated on trying to find the end of the sticky tape as it had stuck itself back together.

“I’ve probably helped up his royalties actually, d’ya think I could get a cut of that?” You laughed, looking up at him from the final present you were wrapping. “I’m serious, I’ll have a word with Sonny and see if he can mention it to his Uncle Paul.”

Rather than responding, you reached for the last of your wine and swallowed it in one gulp. Empty glass on the table, you looked over at your husband who wore a flushed face, either from the wine or the heat within the room. You did notice he had pushed the sleeves of his pyjamas top up into the crook of his elbow.

“Did you know,” he whimsically asked in a whisper.

“Probably not, Harry, but go on-“

“It’s well known that mistletoe is an aphrodisiac, a symbol of fertility,” Harry spoke with concentration as he looked down at the paper which housed the toys that he had done a mad dash to The Entertainer store for, once you daughter mentioned how she had changed her list to Father Christmas. This was his final gift to wrap. 

“You can forget it, Styles,” you bit back, watching the way he smirked around the cello tape that he was biting into, too lazy to reach across for the scissors at the end of his legs. Forever easily amused. “Already one too many in our house as it is.”

“Maybe I’ve asked Father Christmas for a new ‘un,” he patted at the present, looking up at you from under his brow.

“A new baby-“

“Yeah, that as well,” he rolled his lips into his mouth, clearly meaning a house. He frowned, “And wha’ do ya mean with this ‘one too many’? ‘S only two of them.” 

“Three.”

He shook his head, his face reminiscent of a child confused. Point proven. 

“Our two kids,” you paused, for dramatic effect. “And you. So, one too many.”

He was taken aback by your playful nature, a little bit lost for words at how brazenly you had dissed him. 

“Thought you liked ‘em young,” he retorted, hand curling around your calf and tugging you over to him. From the quickness of his movement, you squealed. The two of you shushing each other around soft laughter as your eyes faintly fell towards the television monitor that showed you your sleeping children from where you sat in his lap. 

“Dead to the world, both of ‘em,” he mumbled, breathing along your cheek as he noted the way your soft gaze lingered on your babies.

“Can’t wait to see their faces tomorrow,” you admitted, as his lips skimmed gently down your neck. 

“Need to finish off the magic,” he hummed. “Pass me the plate.”

Leaning over from in his lap, you gave Harry the ample opportunity to softly tap his hand against your pyjama-clad bottom. The sound your ears and his received was a dull thud that didn’t achieve what it intended.

Turning to look at him, his sheepish gaze made you aware that he too wasn’t satisfied from his actions. His eyes dropped down to the plate that you held tightly in your hands at the goodies he had laid out on the idea a mere four hours prior.

“You take the carrot,” he pushed it towards you, eyes meeting yours as they looked up.

“And here I was thinking you were the health conscious one-“

“I need stodge to soak up this,” he scooped up the pouring of whiskey. “‘M mixing drinks, so I’m gonna be a barrel of laughs when they jump on me at 5am as my wake up call.”

You softly laughed before you took a hefty bite out of the carrot and he out of the mince pie. With a gooey smile, you couldn’t stop your hands moving up to his lips and wiping away the crumbs from the pastry that sat on the corners of his mouth.

“Have the last bit,” he spoke once he has swallowed his food, offering the small amount of whiskey left in the tumbler glass to you. 

You sipped the drink that he gave to you and placed the empty glass down with a soft clunk to the plate. 

“Can make some magic of our own now,” he whispered in a light alcohol induced haze, satisfied. 

And under the soft lighting of the living room, who were you to refuse him.

His chuckle of disbelief at this words hit your lips with a warm breath, causing you to blush along with him. If he wasn’t kissing you in that moment, you knew that he would have said the words, “Can’t believe I’ve just said tha’.”

But you would believe it, because things like that were him to a T. 

He was that kind of person sometimes, hidden underneath the incredibly handsome features and put together looks: a geek. A loveable geek. 

A loveable geek who knew how to work his way around your body; your head falling back with the thought as he sucked at the middle of your neck. 

“No lovebites, baby,” you gasped, fingers woven into the hair at the back of his head. “We’re at your Mum’s,” you reminded him, feeling his tongue lave against the area he’d been particularly rough with. Like a cat licking at his wounds, tucking his tail between his legs at how he’d admitted defeat. 

His hands moved up the back of your shirt, raising the pyjama material as he went. Your arms lifted, helping him remove the item of clothing and enjoying the tickling feeling of your hair falling down the bare skin of your back.

Harry’s face went straight into the center of your boobs without much focus on where he’d thrown your discarded top in the living room. Mouth sucked with power on the inside of your chest, he was determined to leave a mark against your skin one way or another. 

His hands clawed at the elastic of your trousers, palming underneath them to feel your bare bum cheeks against his hands,helping to create a rocking motion of your crotch against his.

You mewled, in a breathy tone, “Take ‘em off.”

“‘S nice like this,” he coaxed, looking at your face with hooded eyes and enjoying your mirrored expression.

And he wasn’t lying. Been a while since you’d sat in his lap and found your release against him with your clothes still on. 

“It’s not enough,” you admitted, feeling your hips become slightly more frantic as you pressed back into his awaiting hands with a soft clap. 

“It’s enough for now,” he urged you to rock. “Relax on me, darling. We’ve got time.”

Languid kisses was nice. The friction of your clothes too, worked you up in a way that was way more than you would ever care to admit. Breathing growing heavier as Harry kept his lips to your chest and you fisted at his hair.

Tingles ran through you as you felt Harry growing harder through his trousers, rubbing against your center over and over. He twitched as his hand pulled you with more force against him, his hand slipping down lower to rest in-between your bum cheeks.

The way his fingers ghosted close to your center was enough to have you reaching around and pushing his hand down further. The suction sound his mouth made as it peeled away from your clammy skin, made you moan with a fallen head tilt. 

“Want my fingers that bad,” he whispered, feeling the pressure of your hand on top of his. “Tell me.”

“Please, put ‘em in,” you breathily asked. Your mouth fell agape as you felt the tips of his fingers rest against your wetness. You knew if you rocked back and he held you steady enough, they’d sink right in without any resistance.

“Gonna rub your clit for me while you take my fingers, eh?”

Your breathing was laboured as his fingers brushed at your aching, wet center. You were desperate from some kind of pressure, your center pulsing each time you felt the tips of his fingers get closer. 

“At this rate your gonna be all down your legs and mine,” he paused, enjoying the choked moan you released when he finally slipped his fingers inside your wet warmth. “Not even got started.” 

You hand was against your front and harshly rubbing at your sopping clit that had you softly swiping up and releasing enticing moans, causing Harry to throb. 

He softly shushed you as he pushed your fallen hair, slightly damp from sweat, out of your eyes. 

“No ones ever made me this wet,” you admitted in a whiny plea to him, scooping your arm around his neck to sit tighter onto his lap. 

His eyes dropped down to the way your hand moved over your center underneath your pyjamas trousers. “Hiding from me, darling,” he was obvious.

“I said take them off,” you hummed. “Thought you were a man, my man.”

Harry growled at your goad, fingers slipping without much care and wiping into the waistband of your trousers. He roughly pulled at your bottoms, his limbs and yours unattractively flaying but achieving the ultimate goal of getting naked. 

Bare bum now open to thick heat of the room, you enjoyed the way he tapped his fingers lightly against your left cheek, close to where your bum and thigh met.

“Harry,” you breathed, hips nudging forwards, enough to get his cock to press between your lips, just right. You rolled your hips over him slowly, your wetness enticing and teasing to his cock. Bliss was written across his face as he enjoyed your attentiveness to foreplay. 

“Gonna let me have you,” he stated, no question within his words. He felt the way you nodded against him, as you pressed your forehead to his. 

You gripped his shoulder as you rolled back again, feeling the way his tip slipped into your without much guidance other than the slight lift to your arse from Harry himself.

As you sank down on him, you felt the way his hand pressed to your lower back. Shaky exhales bounced against each other’s lips as you took him in, staying still and relishing in the way his cock felt inside of you.

Throbbing clit flush to his pelvis, you knew even the tiniest of motion would have you losing your mind. 

Wanting to keep him deep, you barely raised your hips more than halfway off him before you were taking him once more. He brushed against the soft spot inside you so wonderfully, that you were admitting your love for him in such a way that had him chuckling. 

“‘S my cock, not me, darling,” he teased. “I know, I know, baby.”

The pace you set was slow, languidly rolling your hips over his. He encouraged you, digging his fingers into your plush hips and throatily moaning as he watched you with lips parted and eyelids hooded. 

The wet kiss you shared with him, had you gripping at his jaw, feeling the way it expanded as he devoured you with his lips and tongue. It was dirty, a quick flick that had your chasing after him, suckling gently and wanting to be just as dirty in return.

You could hear how wet you were, your body wanting the man beneath you to know just much of mess you had made for him. How turned on he had managed to get you. 

He loved it. The sounds. The way he purposefully dragged at your wetness with his fingers over you clit. His roughs pants and throaty moans indicative of just how deeply pleasured he was.

“Hear tha’,” he rhetorically asked. “You’re all over my balls, doll. My thighs are covered.” 

“Oh god,” you gasped as your head fell back and exposed your throat to him, hips rocking and rubbing harshly against his. His hand moved from being cupped underneath your bouncing boobs and took to pressing gently against your throat. 

Somewhere in your mind you thought back to the latex, novelty washing up gloves earlier in the day and how they may feel against your skin, against your throat. It was something you knew you’d have to mention as you hips began to move with more force against him at the idea.

You knew he’d asked, he’d just time the question in the right moment. Probably say your name first to have you looking down at him glassy, fucked our vision.

As he groaned your name, your dropped you head down feeling the way your throat curved against his hand. “Wha’ you thinking ‘bout?”

His face was flushed out, hair sticking to his forehead and you were partly angry at how he’d somehow managed to keep his top on. 

“Need to try the gloves next time,” you confessed. “Want to, want to-“

He watched the way you face crumpled, slightly flushing at how you’d possibly found yourself a kink that was once before totally undiscovered to you. 

He pulled you down to him, “Would try anything wi’you in a heartbeat. So in love wi’you. Love you more when you let me feel you comin’ all over me.”

The two of your were flat against each other as you felt the way he lifted his hips upwards, the angle had him constantly stroking directly on your g spot. Your limbs felt like mush as your body began to shake of its own accord.

“Yea’ darlin’, just like that for me,” he coaxed, “All over me, giving it all to me.”

Your sweaty chest rubbed against the irritating fabric of his top, as you focused on the feel of your clit rolling against him and the feel of his cock tipping you over the edge with a satisfied moan that had you holding him deep inside.  

You fell limp against him, feeling the way his arms wrapped heavy against your clammy back. The only movement came from his hips as they lifted upwards and smacked against you.

His deep groan of your name as his orgasm overtook him, caused you to turn your face into his and leave a wet and heavy kiss to his dropped jaw. His grunts were heavy as they tapered out into soft and wet whimpers. 

Your skin was scorching against his, as you’d came down together next to the roaring fire beside you. The two of you basking the blissful aftermath. 

As you collapsed against him, Harry’s eyes looked up at the tree that he was now somehow partly under. Heaving chest and bleary eyes, he focused on the decorations above his head, as his hand ran soothingly down your clammy back.

With a scoffed chuckle, he caught your attention, enjoying the way you nosed along his neck, to being your lips up to the corner of his.

“What is it?” You asked gently against his lips. His smiled deepened. “What’s tickled you so much?”

Still wearing a blissful expression, he said deeply, “We’re under mistletoe.”

Frowning, you knocked you eyes upwards, spotting the mistletoe that sat tied to two or three baubles on the Christmas tree. 

“Gotta lay on one me, doll,” he cheekily caught your attention. “‘S the rules.”

And if it were the rules, who were you to break them.

[thiswaycomessomethingwicked]

How do you think the Grima and Saruman plot in Rohan would have gone down if Theodwyn had still been alive? Or Eomund? Or Edhild?

An interesting question! Though I think it’s one that’s almost impossible to answer simply because we know so little of the women.

Theodwyn, as a woman in Rohan already would have had limited access to direct political power. And, as a widow tending to her husband’s estate on behalf of her son, would likely not have been very present at court in Edoras. I suspect she would not have left Aldburg that often as she had the Marshallate to oversee and her children to raise. 

The tl;dr is: I suspect her being alive would not have been relevant to the success or failure of Grima and Saruman. 

-

Longer musings on Theodwyn, Elfhild and Eomund: 

We know very little about Theodwyn save that she was Theoden’s sister and died of heartbreak after Eomund went and got himself killed. Indeed, we know basically nothing about her that is useful in determining how she might have intervened had she become aware of Saruman’s plans. 

Personally, I don’t get badass powerhouse vibes from her, honestly. Which is totally fair and I don’t think every woman needs to be Eowyn-I-Am-Not-Like-The-Other-Girls Strong Female Character to be worthy of being considered interesting and dynamic. But yeah, I get a very passive vibe from Theodwyn. But that’s just my read on her. 

Theodwyn and Elfhild suffer the way almost all women do in Tolkien’s world of having almost no story and zero characterisation. Lothiriel, Arwen to a lesser degree but still, Finduilas etc. are really nothing more than names. Which is frustrating! and it drives me batty. 

For both Theodwyn and Elfhild all we know are names, who their male relatives are, and that they were able to make heirs for their husbands. All the important things, clearly. 

Based on Eowyn’s position at court (and her deep frustration and anger about it), I think it can be safely argued that women don’t play a strong role in the political world of Rohan. Eowyn describes her life as being in a gilded cage - no real power, limited agency. I think that’s very telling of the role Theodwyn and Elfhild would have occupied.

Not to say that they wouldn’t have been able to influence and inform decisions made by their spouses, but they would not have been privy to war councils or the daily Politicking that Theoden and Eomund got up to. Men are clearly the dominant leaders in Rohan and the gender roles and expectations in this country run along a strict binary that favours a militarized hyper-masculinity. 

While Elfhild and Theodwyn would have defended their homes when the men went to war (as Eowyn does in the books), it would have been only if no other “appropriate” man was present to taken on this role (again, as happens in the books. Though props to Hama, real MVP, and member of the Eowyn fanclub). 

Any influence Elfhild or Theodwyn had over the decisions of Theoden or Eomund would have been behind the scenes and very much a “soft power” approach. And this is assuming their spouses were open to listening to them. 

I know we all wish this wasn’t the case, and we want an Elfhild and Theodwyn who were super active and influential in the politics and manoeuvrings of their country -  but based on the text, that probably wasn’t the case. It’s a fandom head-canon. 

-

Now, all of this said, Elfhild being alive may have caused a bit of a hiccup or challenge for Grima exerting control over Theoden. However, Grima is very good at manipulating people and situations, so could possibly have undermined their relationship. We don’t know enough about Theoden and Elfhild as a couple to really determine how that would have gone. 

Also, remember, no one really knew of Grima’s treason. When Gandalf went to warn Theoden in October of 3018 it was about the incursions and plans of Saruman. It’s unclear if he made any mention of Grima’s role in it. It can be interpreted that Eomer knew, or at the very least had suspicions, but otherwise I think we can safely assume, based on the text, no one else knew. 

(Eomer can also be read as not having known at all; he was under house arrest because he threatened Grima with death in the king’s hall which is against the law. And that, it’s implied, was over Grima ogling Eowyn.)

Grima was seen as a trusted advisor to the king - if anything, Eilfhild may have leaned on him as her husband started “ailing” and become more and more unable to fulfill his duties as king. Theodred seems to have been fairly absent as heir so I don’t know how much of the day to day duties he was able, or willing, to undertake. 

So, the dynamics of the court during Theoden’s witchcraft-imposed infirmity, may have been really interesting and not as black/white as it might come across at first blush. 

As noted at the top, Theodwyn would have been managing the Third Marshalate until Eomer was of age, so she wouldn’t have been very present at court. And after he came of age, she would probably remain in Aldburg to help manage things while he was off seeing to his other duties and working to try and slow Saruman’s steady creep into Rohan. So, I don’t see her having lived after Eomund’s death heavily impacting anything. Also, like with Elfhild, we don’t know what the relationship was between Theodwyn and her brother. 

So if just the two women had survived, not Eomund, I can see Elfhild more than Theodwyn posing a potential roadblock for Grima and Saruman. But, that’s only if: 

a) she knew about, or suspected, Grima’s treason;

b) she and Theoden were close and they had a relationship that could weather whatever wrenches Grima would throw into the mix; and 

c) she were the kind of person to take a very active political role to fill the void left by Theoden’s absence. 

Like Theodwyn, we don’t really know who Elfhild was as a person. Was she the sort to try and take control of a situation? or was she more likely to have simply seen to her own duties and tended her husband without really getting involved (In the way that Eowyn tended her uncle as he “ailed” but didn’t get involved politically at court. But a wife has privileges a niece does not). 

-

However, if Eomund had been alive that might have influenced events in a different way. Maybe. It would mean another member of the House of Eorl to contend with and neutralize, on Grima’s side. However, Eomund was hot headed and prone to doing really stupid shit without thinking and I suspect Grima could easily manipulate him into either a compromising situation or to ride to his death. 

Eomund being alive would have freed Eomer up to focus more on his efforts against Saruman, which he wasn’t able to do to the degree he wanted to as Third Marshal (he laments about this to Aragorn when the four three hunters first arrive in Rohan). 

Having the full family alive would also have provided an additional barrier/more people for Theoden to lean on making it more difficult for Grima to wheedle his way into Theoden’s head. It also may have changed the dynamic at court and kept Theoden himself more hopeful about the future which may have, in turn, informed Grima’s own decisions about how to approach the war with Sauron and its potential outcomes. 

Grima gave into Reasonable Despair, which I suspect was partially fuelled by Theoden’s own personal misery about his aging, his perceived inability to rise to the occasion, his own despair at the future. That’s a contagious mindset. Despair is easy to fall into and it breeds more despair. Hope is hard. But, if you have a lot of people around who are relying on you, who are supporting you, who are helping you - that changes things entirely. 

-

I suppose the long and short is: WhO kNoWs??? hahaha

I’m very sorry about the novel this became but thank you so much for the ask! I really enjoyed gaming things out and I hope it somewhat answered your question <3 <3 

[smallheathgangsters]

Sober Wishes | J.S.

A/N: Finally finished another John request. I hope you all like it and I always appreciate your feedback! 🧡 Please consider that English is still not my first language :)

Request: “Can I request a 36 & 14 with John please 😊“ by @shelbygirlsclubx​

Pairing: John Shelby x Reader

Word Count: 3143

Type: angst, fluff

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

You’d been lying on the sofa of your living room in your apartment for a few hours now. You didn’t know what time it was, but you guessed that it had to be around midnight. Your back was rested against the edge of the sofa, your legs bent and an open book resting against your thighs. In your right hand you were holding a glass of wine.

You had stopped counting how many glasses you’d already had, but when you had poured the residue of the liquid out of the bottle a few minutes ago, you knew it had been quite a lot. You didn’t have the worst alcohol tolerance, but a whole bottle was even a lot for you.

You groaned when you realised how much you’d drunk. But it was already too late, so you just accepted the fact and waited for the intoxication to take over your mind and body.

You focused on your book again, turning to the next page. You enjoyed the story very much and hoped the drunkenness wouldn’t settle in too fast, so you’d be able to finish reading the chapter you were on.

A year ago, there would have been no chance for you to get this drunk. John had always been there to stop you when he noticed you having enough, but never keeping you from having fun, enjoying your drunken evenings as a couple, joking around and playfully flirting with each other, even though you’d been together for over three years. He would have carried you to bed carefully whenever you started feeling groggy and sleepy, taking off your clothes and make-up, changing you into comfortable pyjamas and tucking you under the blanket. Then he’d crawl under the sheets with you, wrapping his arms around you and cuddling you until you fell asleep.

In the mornings, he would make sure to keep the kids out of your shared bedroom, letting you sleep in and not be disturbed. John would sneak out of bed, go down to the kitchen and clumsily make his children breakfast and send them out in the garden to play. Then he’d come back to you, bringing you a cup of your favourite tea to the bed. He would kiss your forehead and say: “This will help with the hangover.”

While the tea had always cured the pain in your head in mornings like those, the pain in your heart you felt since not having John by your side anymore, never went away, no matter what you drank. Not even wine or whiskey helped the overwhelming ache pulsing in your chest.

You took large gulps of the beverage in your hand and only a few minutes later you stared cluelessly at the empty glass, asking yourself what your life has become.

You sighed when you thought about how stupid this whole behaviour was. There was literally no point in getting drunk and feeling sick in the morning, because the real pain never went away. Not even after the hundredth attempt.

You read the last few sentences of the chapter and closed the book, throwing it carelessly on the coffee table next to the sofa. Then you pushed yourself up into a sitting position trying to figure out the state you were in. After waiting a moment and not feeling too bad, you swung your legs over the edge of the sofa, getting up.

It didn’t even take two seconds until you crash landed on the wooden floor, hitting your head on the table. You moaned out in pain, closing your eyes. Maybe your state was worse than you thought. Your hand blindly reached out, trying to find the coffee table. When your fingertips got in contact with the wood, you grabbed it, pulling yourself up slowly. Finally, you had manoeuvred yourself into a sitting position a second time, placing your spinning head onto the cold surface of the table.

Fucking pathetic.

That was all you were. Pathetic. And you were so happy John knew nothing about the condition you were in. He’d be so incredibly embarrassed. He’d be embarrassed about ever having been together with you.

You let out a sob, not knowing what to do in this exact moment. You felt so helpless.

Helpless and incredibly hopeless.

How come you were so incapable of getting your life together again? It wasn’t as though you’d been the first person to go through a breakup. That was life and there would probably be a lot more heartbreaks to come. There was no way you could react like this every time love didn’t work out the way you hoped it did.

You lifted up your head from the table, looking blankly around in the living room, but your eyes weren’t able to focus on a point. You let out another desperate sob.

Maybe you deserved this. Maybe you deserved the pain never going away, not having control of your life anymore. After all, it had been your fault you and John had broken up. You had broken John’s heart and it was absurd of you to be crying about heartbreak, when all he’d ever done was love you. The pain that was eating you alive was all you doing, not John’s and there was nothing to blame him for.

The memories of you walking out on him when you had felt the negative side of his lifestyle completely taking over, invaded your mind. Out of fear, out of insecurity, you had walked away, leaving him all alone again with his four kids. You didn’t dare to think about how you’d made him feel, only caring about yourself, instead of helping him, helping his children. It had been too much for you to bare, the negativity, the violence. The murder. It had kept you awake at night and pacing around the house during the day. In the end, it had become too much for your weak soul to handle.

Nevertheless, it was a lame excuse. It was an excuse that sounded like you were only thinking about yourself, yet again.

You felt yourself erupt into sobs, tears piling in your eyes and then eventually spilling over your cheeks slowly. You pushed yourself back against the sofa, placing your head into your hands and crying quietly into them. How much you wished John was here to comfort you.

And while you sat there crying, the drunkenness increased, making your brain think irrationally.

After feeling like you’d calmed down, you pushed yourself up with your hands on the coffee table. Before taking a step, you waited a moment, hoping that you’d be able to somewhat find your balance and not fall over again like the first time.

Luckily, you didn’t, and your legs began walking towards the front door and out of your apartment, down the stairs, onto the streets. If you were being completely honest, you had no idea where they and your mind were taking you. They seemed to work on their own and there was nothing you were able to do about it. Or maybe you just didn’t want to do anything about it. Maybe it was exactly what your subconsciousness wanted to do but wasn’t able to in a sober state.

Before you even knew it, you suddenly stood across a strangely familiar large wooden front door. You couldn’t tell how long it had taken you to get here, you’d lost all track of time. But not even a second later, your hand rose, clenched into a fist and knocked hard against the door. Instead of stopping after a few knocks, your intoxicated mind decided it was appropriate to just not stop at all.

Suddenly, the door was torn open.

“Bloody hell, what the actual–“

You stared at the man in the doorway, whose breath hitched in his throat when his eyes landed on you standing there.

“Y/N?!” he gasped shocked. “What on earth are you doing here at two in the morning?”

You stumbled a step towards him and gave him a drunken smile. “Hello, John …”

It was hard for you to form the words. They were sticking to the roof of your mouth, not willing to roll over your lips.

John gripped your shoulders and leaned down a little, observing your face closely. “Are you okay?”

“Sure …” you slurred and tried to lean against him, but he held you in position, understandably not letting you get too close to him.

You heard him sigh deeply. “How much have you had to drink tonight?”

Your lips formed a cheeky smirk. “A bottle of wine … maybe?”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not a maybe,” he said, giving you a taunting look. “Can’t really let you stay outside at this time, can I?”

It wasn’t a question directed at you, he was talking to himself, thinking about what to do with your drunken mess. But nevertheless, you felt the urge to answer him. “No, you can’t. That would be mean …”

You pouted at him, what made him roll his eyes. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Unbelievably gorgeous,” you giggled.

He huffed. “Yes, you are unbelievable gorgeous. But not tonight. Tonight, you look fucking insane.”

“Insanely beautiful,” you slurred, still giggling to yourself. John sighed again and then finally let go of your shoulders. He placed a hand on your back and guided you into his house.

With the first step into the entrance John’s sweet scent surrounded you. It blurred your senses, bringing back the times when you were living here, together with him and the kids.

He noticed something being on your mind, because you had stopped in your tracks, looking blankly down the hallway.

“Everything all right, Y/N?” John asked you cautiously. He probably thought you were about to throw up, but on the contrary, you were feeling much better since the scent had taken over your senses and your body got the warm, comfortable feeling of being at home. Finally.

“Yes …” you whispered quietly, totally lost in your thoughts, “I’m … very good actually.”

John nodded slowly and gave your back another soft push. “Let’s bring you to the guest bedroom, shall we?”

You hummed in response, letting his gentle touch lead you down the hall, towards the last room. His hand grabbed the handle, pushed it down and opened the door for you. While you stood in the middle of the room, not knowing what to do with yourself, John went to the bathroom next door and came back with a glass of water. “Here. Drink this.”

You obeyed, taking the glass with both your hands and bringing it up to your lips to take little sips. Then he went over to the bed, pushing back the sheets. “Now come here and lay down.”

Again, you did as he said. He took the now half empty glass from you before you let yourself fall onto the mattress ungracefully, letting out a muffled groan. John moved your legs onto the bed as well and covered your body with the sheets.

“Are you not staying with me?” you asked sadly, not realising that it was a very inappropriate question.

“No, that wouldn’t be a good idea,” John answered.

“I’m really sad, you know,” you blurted out. John had already started walking towards the door, when he stopped. He turned back to you, giving you a look that you didn’t understand. The alcohol had made it hard for you to read the expression on his face.

“Me too, Y/N,” he breathed, almost inaudibly.

“Good night, John,” you said, giving him a dumb smile and snuggling into the pillow and sheets.

John waited a moment and then he cleared his throat. “Good night, Y/N.”

You didn’t even hear him shut the door to your room, falling asleep right away. But it wasn’t a good sleep and you kept waking up, tossing and turning. You probably had to try and get as much rest as possible, considering the amount of alcohol you had in your blood stream, but you started feeling slightly sick after waking up for the fourth time. You decided that it was pointless and pushed the sheets away from your body, swinging your legs over the edge of the bed. Your head was pounding, but you’d had it worse before, so it was bearable.  

You padded over to the bathroom, opening the door as quietly as possible. When you looked at yourself in the mirror the memories from the evening before washed over you. It was as though you had totally forgotten that you’d showed up drunk at John’s door at two in the morning and then slept in his guest bed. His home still felt so much like your home, that when you’d gotten up a few minutes before, you hadn’t thought about the reason you weren’t in your apartment at all.

You cursed under your breath. Your hair was tangled and there were unpleasant dark circles under your eyes, making you look exactly like the rough night you’d had. You turned on the tap and washed your face with ice cold water, trying to make the uneasy feeling in your stomach go away. As expected, it did nothing of that sort and the headache was still there too.

You sighed, leaning against the sink and staring at your face. You looked tired. And sad. But nothing about that was surprising.

The thought of maybe being able to sneak out of the house before everyone was awake crossed your mind. You held your breath, trying to be as quiet as possible to listen to the sounds in the home.

Your hopes were crushed when you heard a muffled squeal. Katie. That meant the kids were awake and that also meant that John was awake. You shut your eyes, trying to calm your nerves.

When you felt like you’d already spent enough time procrastinating in the bathroom, you eventually opened the door, stepping out into the hallway.

“Y/N, there you are!”

You flinched, turning your head into the direction of the guest room you’d slept in. John was standing in the middle of it.

“The door was open, and I thought you’d already left,” he said.

Your gaze fell to the floor awkwardly. “I was planning on leaving right now anyway … thanks for letting me sleep over.”

“Don’t you want to stay for breakfast? I’m sure the kids wouldn’t mind,” John said in an almost too good mood in consideration of the circumstances. He even gave you a cheeky smile when he said the last word.

“Oh, no. Thank you so much for the offer, but I can’t,” you murmured, embarrassed by the way he treated your mess of a human being so nicely. “This whole … situation … I’m very sorry about everything, John. I had no control over myself yesterday and this shouldn’t have happened.”

“No,” John replied, “this shouldn’t have happened. But it’s still okay and you mustn’t worry too much about it. I know how it’ll mess with you if you don’t let it go.”

You gulped. You hated hearing him tell you that he knew you. Because it was true. He still knew you so well and it put you in a very vulnerable position.

“I’ll try,” you whispered. Then you glanced over your shoulder to the living room where the sound of children’s laughter was coming from. “I should really get going.”

The loss of your drunkenness gave you back your ability to read people’s facial expressions and also made you tell that John’s was filled with hurt.

“I really want you to stay for breakfast, Y/N. I think there are a few things we should talk about,” John said, making you blush a little out of awkwardness. Your eyes found his and the blueness overwhelmed you. You’d almost forgotten how beautiful he was. The cute little freckles on his nose and cheekbones, the pouty rosy lips.

And while you just stood there, gazing at his perfect face, you suddenly blurted out something you actually didn’t want to say out loud. “I can’t stop thinking about us.”

You threw your hand over your mouth the moment you realised what you’d just said, but it was already too late. John gave you a weird look, as if he was trying to comprehend what you’d told him.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry, I– I don’t know what I was thinking … again,” you stammered, tearing your eyes away from his and helplessly looking towards the front door, wishing you were able to simply turn around and run away.

All of a sudden, you felt two strong arms around your body, wrapping you into a tight hug.

“You need to take a deep breath and calm down, Y/N. And you need to stop worrying so much,” you heard John murmur, resting his head on top of yours. You sighed into the hug and let the tense muscles in your body relax. His embrace felt so good.

“It was a stupid thing to say, I’m sorry,” you apologised again.

“Why would you think that?”

“Because you don’t feel the same way,” you admitted sadly.

John pushed you away from his chest and then snaked his arms around your waist, looking down at you. “Y/N, I think of you every single day. Though I have to admit, I was absolutely heartbroken when you left. The kids asked me why you were gone and when you’d come back …”

You gulped, feeling tears gathering at the corners of your eyes. You didn’t want to cry. It wasn’t your turn to cry. Still, hearing about the children made it worse and it was hard holding the tears back. “I’m so sorry …”

“I’m still very hurt. You never explained to me, what made you run. I know it was my job and the dangerous life and all. But … you never exactly told me why. If you had only given me a chance to change some things, to change some of my ways, maybe even be around more … whatever it was. I would have done anything to make you stay, Y/N.”

“But I just left …” you whispered sadly.

John nodded. “You just left.”

You looked up at the lovely man and gave him a shy smile. “In that case, I won’t leave today. At least not until we’ve eaten breakfast with the kids.”

John’s face lit up. “Lovely! Katie missed you so much, she’ll be over the moon!”

“I missed her too. And … I’m not just saying that, I hope you know that, John,” you told him carefully.

“I know, Y/N.”

“Good,” you smiled. “Let me get into the kitchen then. I’ve got to make up for last night and cooking breakfast seems like a decent first step.”

You gave John another smile, this time a wider one than before and hurried down the hall.

[patchworkstateofmind]

Returning a Favor | A Marvel AU Fanfic, Chapter 1

Uhm, Ive never actually posted on tumblr before, and also never written about Marvel, so I hope if anyone even reads this, you will hopefully be nice ^^

So, anyways, this is a scene from an Idea I had, it takes place in the time between Spiderman Homecoming and Avengers Infinity War. If you like the idea or my writing style, make sure to let me know, so I can continue my Idea^^

I actually recommend to listen to some music while reading this, I suggest a dark academia, royal core playlist on youtube. (I think its suits this story the best, but you do you)

Okay I should stop blabbering, Lets go!

------

Title of Chapter: Ballroom Talk

Word Count: 2,4k

Other Chapters: Ch.1, Ch.2

------

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

The music hangs heavy in the air, as you leaned against the wooden railing of the staircase. Dozens of couples twirled and turned over the marble floor and the golden chandeliers, lit with real candles set the ballroom in a magnificent golden light. Golden specks of dust whirled through the air and the movement of the puffy skirts only made them twirl even more.

You looked down your crystal glass, hmm, empty. Sighing you placed your glass on the platter of a waiter that walked by you. Your gaze crossed the room, looking at the majestic oil paintings, probably worth thousands of dollars. Decadent.

Your eyes met brown. Great, the eyes you were trying to forget. You adverted your gaze and turned around, the skirt of your dress swaying as you made your way down the side of the ballroom, trying to get away. “Excuse me.”, said a voice behind you. You sighed.

“look, I don’t have time for this right now.” You turned around and he stood in front of you. Towering at least 2 feet over you normally, he now was eye to eye with you. Heels do seem have a good point. “I know, I’m really sorry, but I was told to do this.”, he said, so he knew too, that it was just an annoyance, rather than a mission. Gosh, he sounded so much like a teenager, it was almost embarrassing.

“I know too. But I am not joining your little team of ´Revengers´”, you painted quotation marks in the air and even though the half mask on his face managed to hide his emotion quite well, you were sure you could see him snarl. You chuckled lightly. “Let me guess, your friends are right out there, ready to crash the party any moment”. You nodded your head towards one of the stained-glass windows. “Okay, kiddo.”, you began. Actually, you weren’t quite sure how old he was, he seemed at least your age, if not older, but you liked the way it railed him up.

“I know that normally, we would have a nice fight of words and then your teammates come crashing in, saving you, because you obviously aren’t strong enough to handle me on your own. You and your friends set everything on fire, I get away and yet again you think you’ve won because you’ve killed another ten old bastards, that don’t mean anything to us. But you need the accomplishment, and we don’t want you to feel like you always destroy everything without any results. And yet you do.”

He opened his mouth, trying to defend himself, but you simply talk over him. “Let’s face it. You couldn’t find a point to start your search, so you thought you would show up here, thinking that we are dumb enough to not disguise a hidden meeting better than a ball. And you thought you could crash this meeting but then noticed, that it is a real ball. And now you want information, so they sent you in her, totally blending in with everybody here.” You reach for his neck and fix the collar of his button up.

“But now you noticed that there is no one important here, that actually has information. And I know that your teammates probably realised this, but I’m not quite sure if you are intelligent enough to do too, so I’m throwing you this bone.” You make an eccentric pause. “Peter, have you noticed that not even one important person is here.”, you pointed towards the dancefloor. “And you know why? Because there is a hidden meeting, but we all know that you and your little team aren’t even remotely clever enough to even think about this, so we sat up this ball. Of course, that’s not the only reason, its also to get rich old bastards on our side, feeding them with bacon wrapped dates and hors d´oeuvres and telling them that we are this”, you pinch your fingers together. “Close to curing cancer.”

“Are you serious?”, Peter brushes his hand trough his hair. “So this is all a setup to lead us into the false direction?”. “You look distressed”, you say and reach for the tablet of yet another waiter that walks by. “Here, try some of that, it will calm you down, but yes, this is just a setup”. You take the glass and press it into Peters’ hand. He doesn’t seem to pay attention to you though, his hand lays on his ear and the other, with the glass, he raised up to his mouth. “Did you hear that Mr Stark?”, he asked.

You try to swallow a giggle. “So, I was right”, you say and turn around, making your way down the corridor. “You really couldn’t think one step further and realise that we aren’t dumb enough to hide secret things better, tsk.”

It takes Peter a few seconds to notice you are leaving, but when he does, he is sprinting down the corridor after you. “Wait!”, he yells. “Come on Peter”, you answer annoyed, it comes out as a snarl. “Why are you so relentless? You had the mission to get information, I gave you information. Its not my fault that the information is that you suck”

“Hey! We don’t suck!”, he defends and jumps around, side to side, trying to move in front of you, but your massive skirt is blocking his way, making him dance around you. Though you must admit that even though this tight corset and the puffy skirt annoy you, you can’t seem to help but thank the 18th century fashion for making people stay away from you.

“Why don’t you just go back to your friends outside, because as you can see, there is nothing interesting here, just a bunch of old dudes, dancing with young and impressionable girls on the search for a rich sugar daddy”, You say. You are really done with this shit.

“I don’t think we have that what we want yet”, a voice came from in front of you. To be fair, you didn’t expect anybody else here, which made you stop in your tracks. You needed a Minute to calm your muscles again, trying to keep your masquerade on. “Oh, thank god”, Peter huffs out from behind you. Great, you are stuck.

You raise one side of your mouth to a smirk. “Captain America, didn’t expect to see you here. Thought you would be busy with squeezing yourself into those tight spandexes.”, you say. “Though I must say, tailcoats suit you much better, you should make them into your uniform, rather than that ridiculously patriotic Costume you always wear.” “I could say the same to you, oh, wait, you look like the wallpaper of my grandma exploded on you”, he says and grins. “Ouuh, burn”, You say mockingly. “You know you could just say you like me better without clothes”, You say and glance back over your shoulder. Only to find that Peter is blushing, you look back at Cap, he’s blushing too. Double kill.

“Well, if you would excuse me Gentleman, I’ve got a dinner date to keep”, You try to manoeuvre your skirt around Cap, but he positions himself right in front of you. “I don’t think so.”, he crosses his arms over his chest. “That’s not very nice, to keep a lady from following her plans”, You say and try once again, but he takes a step sideways, blocking your path yet again. “Let’s see it like this”, Cap begins. “You can either talk with me right now, or we will take this outside and you can see if you were right with the assumption that it takes more people than one to fight you.

You sigh. “Nice move, America. Taking advantage of the girl in heels, so it can’t run away.” You turn around and look at Peter. He has taken off his mask and you lock eyes with him. “Well then kiddo”, you say and open your hand. “Give me your glass, if you don’t use it, then don’t mind if I do” He hands you the wine glass and you throw your head back, downing it in one swift motion. You place the glass onto a side table and motion for Captain America to follow you. “You want to dance?”, you ask. He lifts an eyebrow. “So, you really wanna fight”, he asks. “Nah, not now. I mean it literally, if I have to spend more time here, then why don’t use it”

He turns around to look at Peter. “Go outside, I will meet you there, if I don’t come out in ten Minutes send them in” You can’t help but snicker at this and now its your turn to cross the arms over your chest. “Are you so afraid of me? The mighty Captain America- Oh wait, the mighty one was Thor, wasn’t it? Well anyways, I’m gonna spend the rest of my evening on the dance floor”

With those words you make your way back to the ball room. The music is still the same, eerily beautiful, like from an old historian drama. You reach the end of the hallway and look at the Captain. He reaches into the inside of his tailcoat and pulls out a velvet mask. “Glad to see you thought about bringing one yourself, I counted on the fact that I would have to lend you one of mine.” You tap onto your mask. A light beige, velvet half mask, adorned with blue pearls and light blue lace. It matched with your dress.

He holds out his elbow and you interlock your arm into his. You make your way to the dance floor, its not a formation dance, so you don’t stick out when you two join in in a free space. He places his hand on the side of your body and you reach out to place your hand in his. You begin the turn around the floor, not thinking about a choreography.

“Okay, Mr. America”, you say, now quieter, although the music and the chitter chatter all around you should make it hard for anybody else to hear your conversation. “You have this one dance, if you want to talk any longer, we will have to fight. And we both know that a fight will end in at least on person to be hurt. And I don’t know why, but I don’t think it will be me.”

He meets your stern gaze with just as much aversion. “I do think too that one dance is more than enough”. “By then, start your questions”. You turn outwards and twirl yourself back in under his arm. “Why are you doing this ball?”, he asks. “Like I said, its easier to have meetings that shall not be interrupted, if you have something where the people that could interrupt are occupied” “So, I guess that’s why you are here too, because they don’t want you to interrupt either?”, he asks and you can hear his intention right through. “I am really sorry, but I think we both know that you will not be able to question my loyalty”

He leaves your hand to place his on the other side of your waist and you place yours on his shoulders. With a swift motion he lifts you up as the music reaches its climax and with a turn puts you back down on your feet. “Next question”, you say. “You are running out of time”

“Why this masquerade?” You sigh. “I know, it’s very cliché isn’t it; I also don’t know why it has to be in this Victorian style, but I guess it should make the people here feel more at home, old people like old stuff, don’t they? But of course, I shouldn’t tell you about old stuff, I mean, you’re the 100-year-old” He rolls his eyes. “You know that’s not what I meant”. “Ugh, I know, you see, this is a disguise for a meeting, but its also a coming together of really rich people, and really rich people tend to do really bad stuff. Its easier to gather blackmail bait when people feel safe because of a mask that isn’t hiding anything.” “So, it’s a trick to steal money from the rich?” “No, its to steal Power from the rich. If you want to really win this game of power, you got to have the rich and powerful on your side, not only the handymen. And based on the facts I do know; you don’t even seem to have the handymen on your side. The Avengers, always there for the people”, you sigh mockingly. “but doing nothing more,  than leaving a trail of misery and destruction. Cut to the chase, what is really the reason you and your friends are here?”

“Where is the secret headquarters of Hydra?”, he asks, and you drop your smile. “Oh, straight to the point I guess”, You say and take a step away from him. He grabs your hands and pulls you back in, this time his hand lands on your back, holding you firmly in place. He leans down to your ear. For other people it must look like you are a couple, but the snarl in his voice is more than enough to find out the real affirmation between you two.

“Cut it, we know that you and your little crew have connections to hydra” You lean back, trying to bring space between you two and snarl back. “You should be careful who you make assumptions about, some people are not very happy to be affiliated with those people.” “Those people!?”, he gets louder. “Last time I remembered you blowing up a part of Siberia, destroying everything in a 100-mile radius. You are nothing better than Hydra.”

“I am not in affiliation with Hydra, but remember this for the next time we meet, America.”, you hiss and now you lean into him. “I will rip everything you love apart if you don’t keep your dirty hands of my business. And I think we both know that I won’t hesitate. But maybe I shouldn’t threaten you” You lean back and push against his chest, stepping away. “If you dare once again to interfere with my business, I will destroy everything any of you are fond of. Your little boy, Peter. This naïve and sweet boy. How about we start with him? Or maybe start with something that hurts. I come to know about a certain woman named… What was it? Peggy?”

With these words you turn around and storm of, you don’t hear footsteps behind you, and you are really sure that he won’t be following you.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Thank you for reading!

Have a great day!

[diazevan]

We’ll Say Goodbye Today (And I'm Sorry How It Ends This Way)

Tony used to joke around, saying that Peter would be the death of him, and now, here they were. 

Read on AO3 (Warning: MCD)

Peter and Tony were having a productive day. 

Well, they were definitely trying their best. 

Peter did adore the times they joined forces and took on bad guys together, he was fairly sure that Tony did too. 

The Iron Man and Spider-Man duo were becoming quite notorious, in the public and criminal eye. The former meant they were the subject of countless Twitter memes, and the latter was genuinely terrifying at times, but Peter felt safer with Tony closeby.

Their day got off to a slow start. 

Enter, the self-proclaimed Green Goblin, a masked menace in a green suit, equipped with a hoverboard and explosives. Tony and Peter purposefully steered him away from the city, that way, he couldn’t harm innocent civilians. 

“Mr. Stark!” Peter watched on helplessly, hanging off a disused streetlight. 

The Green Goblin’s arm was locked around Tony’s front, in a merciless grip. They were too high up, hovering meters away from Peter, not even a web would reach them. 

Peter gripped onto the metal, with both hands and clumsily swung himself forward, trying to create enough momentum to jump into a standing position. He could do more to help with the use of his hands. 

He stopped moving when he heard the familiar whirring sound of the repulsors. 

He darted his eyes up, the blast hit the Green Goblin square in the chest and sent him flying.

Tony lost control of the suit and was flung away in the opposite direction. He spun, faster than Peter’s eyes could comprehend, “Mr. Stark!”

Tony didn’t answer. The suit was lifeless, there was not a single glimmer of light. Tony free-fell, through the glass ceiling of an abandoned clock tower, and he didn’t fly back up.

Peter swallowed the bile in his throat and attached a web to the streetlamp, he swung forward, going as fast as he could to get there, “Mr. Stark!” He screamed as he scampered across the broken foundations of the roof.

A sharp groan echoed below, “Hey, kid.” 

Peter peered down, trying to ignore the sound of cracking glass and bent metal beneath his feet, he drew a long breath, with a hand on his hip, “Tony.”

Tony pushed himself up into a sitting position, “Now you call me Tony.” He snorted a laugh and shook his head, “Typical.” He was surrounded by a thousand shards of glass, and his suit was retracted, so his only protection was an expensive sweatsuit. 

The arc reactor on his chest that powered the nano-suit was dead.

Tony carefully got onto his feet, he wasn’t on solid ground, the metallic gears that turned the clock were under his feet, and of course, the glass too. He winced, pressing a hand on his back.

“You okay?”

“A bruised vertebrae, maybe…” Tony lifted his shoulder, in a half shrug, “But what else is new. I did just fall twenty feet.” He bent his head back, to look in Peter’s direction, “I’ve got good news and bad news. Take your pick.”

“Um, good news?” Peter called down, “I guess.” 

Tony let out a solemn sigh, “You’re doing really well.” He praised, coming up with something on the spot, “Proud of you.”

Peter rolled his eyes, but the frustration was hidden behind his mask, “The bad?”

Tony tapped his hand against the arc reactor, to no prevail, “Either the fall or hoverboard guy somehow managed to scramble Friday.” He explained, “Probably the latter. My suits down.”

Peter nodded, “So, what now?”

The distant squeak of the hoverboard zoomed nearby, Peter flinched. 

“I don’t want you fighting this guy alone!” Tony bellowed, in his best ‘dad’ voice, “Let’s get out of here and come back better prepared.” He suggested, “Preferably with backup.”

“Okay.” Peter eased himself down through the wreckage, he clung to a surviving beam with one hand and used the other to attach a web to the wall, he landed a few steps away from Tony. He beckoned over to his mentor, “Alright, can you--”

Peter’s senses screamed, he jerked his attention up to the night sky and witnessed a small orange ball drop, it hit the floor, between the pair, “Peter!”

Peter charged for Tony, he nudged him to the side, away from the blast. 

The bomb went off, forcing the pair apart.  

Tony lost his footing and slipped off the edge, a daunting three-hundred-foot drop was ready to welcome him.

Not on Peter’s watch. 

Peter leapt forward, catching Tony’s forearm with practised ease, “I got you, Mr. Stark.” 

“Thanks, kid.” Tony dangled over the drop, but he wasn’t even shaking, he looked more confident than ever; he nodded and flashed his signature grin, his trust in Peter shined in his eyes. 

“Okay.” The whoosh of the hoverboard flew overhead, “Alright…” He webbed up Tony’s arm and quickly lowered him onto the set of gears below, “Stay there.”

Tony’s confidence wavered, “Wait.” He narrowed his eyes, “Kid, don’t you dare.”

Peter didn’t have any other choice, “Hey, Mr. Goblin Guy!” He turned his attention to the problem at hand, “Over here.” He jumped onto the wall, diverting the Green Goblin’s focus, who followed along with the plan, unknowingly. 

Peter scurried across the wall, fast on his feet, leaning on an angle.

“Karen, we need backup.” He summoned as he avoided the Green Goblin’s fruitless attacks.

“War Machine is on route.” She chirped back, “And Happy is driving over to meet you.” 

“ETA?”

“Fifteen minutes.”

Peter wasn’t sure if he could keep this guy preoccupied for that long, he would have to try, “Tell them to hurry.” He waved a hand, “Come on!” He taunted, “This way.”

The Green Goblin was growing tired of Peter’s antics. He bolted toward him, Peter moved out of the way, and the hoverboard collided with the brick wall. The Green Goblin shrieked, as he fell onto his backside.

The hoverboard hissed, that couldn’t be good. 

It dropped from the wall, barrelling through the gears below. The gears started to move, they scraped and churned against one another. Peter could tell they hadn’t been functional for years, but one clumsy hit from a supervillain's hoverboard and they were off again. 

It sliced right through the gears that Tony was trying to navigate his way across, Peter sent a web down and caught Tony’s hand, in the nick of time. 

“Thanks again, kid.” He groaned, there was no ledge or space for him to be lowered onto, “Let’s get out of here now.”

“Yeah.” Peter went to swing out, but a hand grabbed him from behind. He’d been too concerned about protecting his mentor and didn’t register the looming danger.

Tony yelped, “No!”

The Green Goblin smacked Peter’s head off the uneasy ‘ground’ and then wrapped a hand around his neck, “Get off me.” Peter scrambled; he attached the web, that was keeping Tony up, on the side of a gear. 

“Kid!” Tony screamed, he’d never sounded so scared, not in the entire time they’d known one another. 

Peter’s heart yearned for the confidence from minutes before. 

“Mr-” 

The gears squeaked and clicked over another notch. Screws came loose, and debris started falling around them. 

Peter’s world blurred.

He heard a definitive and familiar snap.

“Mr. Stark!” 

Debris crashed into the Green Goblin and sent him hurtling into a wall. 

Peter rolled off the edge. 

Tony was falling, arms splayed out to their sides. 

Peter held out his hand, he dodged the objects that were falling with him, pressed down on his web-shooter and sent a web in Tony’s direction. 

Everything was slow. 

Peter kept his hand steady. 

Tony’s eyes welled with tears, and he spoke, but the sound was lost among the chaos. 

Peter knew what he said.

Peter.

The web caught around Tony’s middle.

Peter held out a hand, catching himself on a pole, and he tried to maintain his hold.

There was an unnerving crack when Tony hit the ground and then there was only silence. 

Peter attached the webbing to the pole and leapt down, fast. 

He landed, a few paces away.

“Mr. Stark?” 

He ripped his mask off, over his head and tossed it to the ground. He stepped over, cautiously. 

He snapped the webbing, clean in two, with his bare hand. He was too distracted to realise that it should have been practically impossible to rip like that, especially with its duality. 

“Mr. Stark?” Peter collapsed onto his knees as Tony’s body listlessly fell, in a heap, “Hey....” He caught Tony’s wrist,  “I got you, Mr. Stark.” He looped an arm under his back and manoeuvred him until they were in a comfortable position.

Tony’s eyes were shut.

“Mr. Stark?” He moved his hand, nudging Tony’s cheek, “Karen?”

“I’m sorry, Peter--”

“No.”

“He’s gone.

“No.”

“It was--”

Peter howled a scream into the nothingness.

Karen stopped protesting.  

Peter rocked, with Tony sprawled lifelessly across his lap, “Mr. Stark, wake up.”

Nothing.

“Mr. Stark.” Peter whimpered, “Please, I don’t want you to go!” His chest rose and fell with rapid sharp breaths, “We’re safe now.” He breathed, into the silence, “It’s over.” 

He choked on a sob. 

He combed a trembling hand back through Tony’s hair, hoping it provided the same comfort it did when it was the other way around. 

“Happy’s gonna be here real soon. He’s gonna save our asses, right?” He teased humourlessly, “That’s what you always say. You gotta give him a pay rise.”

Peter pulled Tony up, closer to his chest. 

“Mr. Stark?” He cradled Tony’s head in his hand, “You’re gonna be okay.” He shuddered, “You’re always okay. You’re Tony Stark.” 

He wobbled, back and forth. 

Tony was making no movement of his own. 

With each strained breath, Peter’s desperation grew, “Cho- she’s gonna help us. She’s gonna--” 

He blinked away tears. 

“You just gotta wake up.”

He stifled a scream, at the sight of blood gushing out of Tony’s nose. 

“No.”

He could feel blood seeping through the suit onto his hand. 

“Please, Mr. Stark, I don’t want you to go!” He roared, “...Don’t want you to go.” He reclined his head and wailed, “Tony, please!” 

There was no reply. Not even a jerk of a limb. 

Peter muttered faintly, “I can’t do this without you.”

He lowered his chin to his chest, sobs tore through his body, paralysing him. 

He shuffled back, gently guiding Tony down onto his side. He ignored the unnatural angle his mentor’s body was in. 

Peter sought shelter under Tony’s arm, pining for comfort. He hugged his knees close and bent his forehead against Tony’s chest. 

There was no heartbeat but there was familiarity. 

“Please, Tony...” Peter scrunched his eyes shut, his breaths quickly became laboured and unrhythmic, “I need you.” He wept and laid his arm over Tony’s hip, “I tried...” He moved in closer, “I’m sorry.”

Peter caused this, he was too slow and didn’t catch him in time.

Tony used to joke around, saying that Peter would be the death of him, and now, here they were. 

“I’m so sorry.” Peter balled his hand around Tony’s jacket and tugged, “Dad.”

Peter must have passed out.

When he came to, he wasn’t on the ground, he was being held securely in someone’s arms. 

He cracked an eye open and peered up, Happy’s haunted face greeted him.  

Disorder reverberated around. 

People, agents probably, were shouting over one another, and there was also the unmistakable sound of a shell-shocked Rhodey comforting a hysterical Pepper.

Peter closed his eyes and rolled his head limply against Happy’s chest.

Happy moved until he had a firm grip around Peter’s legs. 

Happy sniffled, “I’ve got him, Tony.” He was unaware of Peter’s consciousness, “I promise, I'm gonna keep him safe.” 

Peter respected Happy’s words but he didn’t care. 

He didn’t care about anything. 

When Tony Stark hit that ground and breathed his last, Peter Parker died with him. 

Happy was cradling a corpse, he just didn’t know it yet.

[kinnsporsche]

we can raise a little family (maybe we'll be alright)

Whilst waiting for Michael at his trailer, Alex witnesses a crash and gets much more than he bargains for.

Alternatively: a post 1x13 fix-it-au.

word count: 2k

read on ao3

If there was one thing Alex hated most in the world, it was waiting. Waiting meant silence and silence meant more time for him to get lost in his head; and that was not a place he wanted to let himself get lost in.

But Michael had promised that they would talk today, and so he was content to wait for him. He’d spent years of his life turning away and running but now… now he was done. Now he would plant his feet firmly in the ground and say no more, no more running, this is who I am, and this is who I want.

At least, he would if the person he wanted showed up.

He’d waited an hour before he gave in to the restlessness. His good leg ached from disuse and he could feel the phantom aches twinging where his other leg used to be. He’d paced around the junkyard for a while, fingertips skimming across beat-up old cars and whatever else he could get a hold of to occupy his mind for a while.

He waited another hour before texting Isobel. She’d insisted he take her number when he first came back into town; she’d told him it was in case she needed help planning the parade she knew he didn’t want. Alex wonders if that’s true now.

The reply didn’t come until the third hour, and by then the weather had shifted to a light drizzle. He’d taken shelter inside Michael’s airstream, alternating between sitting on the edge of the bed and taking in the numerical sequences and equations that were littered across the walls. Right, Michael was still trying to leave the planet. He’d have to talk to him about that.

Noah’s gone, everything’s fine. We’ll be fine.

Alex had wanted to press. He’d wanted to push the subject until Isobel told him where Michael was and why he wasn’t answering his phone and why he was anywhere but here when here is exactly where he’d promised he would be.

Then he remembered everything she’d been through in the last few days and decided against it. He’d dropped the conversation with a quick thanks, take care.

His phone ended up half way across the trailer.

He wasn’t sure how much time passed after that. When he opened his eyes next, there was silence. The rain wasn’t pounding against the outside of the trailer and the pieces of scrap metal that Sanders had hung around the place weren’t banging against each other anymore.

Alex hissed when he tried to move, a twinge of pain shooting up his leg. Sleeping with his prosthetic was never a good idea; he’d definitely be paying for that for the rest of the night. When he finally managed to find his phone – thankfully nestled against what Alex knew was the bloody shirt Michael had peeled off in a hurry the night before – the clock told him he’d been asleep for just over two hours. He let out a litany of curses before he pushed the airstream door open, calling out Michael’s name. His truck wasn’t back though, and there were no fresh tire tracks in the gravel.

He checked his phone. Nothing.

He checked around for a note, hoping maybe he’d just missed him. Nothing.

He checked around for any sign that Michael Guerin hadn’t stood him up. Nothing.

God, he hoped he was wrong. Maybe Michael just needed space. Space from the world after everything that had happened to him the past few days, space from his home and his friends, space from him.

Still, those thoughts did nothing to stop his heart from shattering in his chest.

Alex turned and marched back to his car, shaking hands searching his jacket for the keys that he struggled to get into the lock. He cursed when he dropped them, hands braced against the roof of the car with his head nestled on them. He squeezed his eyes shut tight like he used to do when he was a child and it felt like the world wanted to go to war with him.

He counted to five.

Inhaled.

Exhaled.

And picked up his keys.

Something bright caught his attention in the reflection of his car window and for a second; for a bright, beautiful second; he let himself have hope. He let himself think it was Michael’s truck pulling up. That he’d just let the voice in his head run riot again and that Michael was actually here like he said he would be. If he could bottle a moment and live in it forever, he’d choose that one.

Logically, though, he knew the reflection was too high up on his window and the world wasn’t kind enough to let it be headlights.

Alex turned, an explanation for why he’d been hanging out here for the past half a dozen hours on the tip of his tongue but saw nobody. Instinctively, he glanced up.

And that was when he saw it.

The lights were faint; if he didn’t know any better he would assume that it was just someone flying a drone or setting off a dud firework. But this was Roswell, and he knew better. In the distance the light grew brighter and expanded somewhat before disappearing just beyond the horizon.

This time when Alex fumbled with his keys, his hands weren’t shaking.

-

It took Alex longer than he would care to admit to find the crash site – in his defence, he was a codebreaker, not a navigator. He could follow instructions easily enough but eyeballing a crash site in the middle of the desert wasn’t exactly an easy task.

The crash site was small, the debris from whatever it was that crashed hadn’t spread far and as far as he could see, it hadn’t shattered into very many pieces. There was maybe half a dozen glowing iridescent pieces scattered a few feet away from him surrounding something small and circular.

He briefly remembered Michael telling him about their pods, but this one seemed different. For starters, it was tiny; it was small enough that he could probably carry it around without any difficulty. And second, it was smoking. That didn’t exactly seem like something it should be doing.

A high-pitched sound from a few paces away caught his attention and he whipped his head in that direction, heartbeat picking up in his chest when he caught movement underneath some sort of tarp. Alex crossed over to it and gripped one of the corners. He took a breath, counted to five again, and whipped it off.

Shock consumed him, and for a good few seconds he stood motionless as he took in the scene before him.

On the floor in front of him under the New Mexico sky, was a baby. A happy, gurgling baby whose hands were curled into fists and outstretched towards him. A happy, gurgling, alien baby that had just crashed from the sky. A happy, gurgling, alien baby that had only been covered by the tarp in the middle of the desert.

“Oh my god.” Alex shrugged his leather jacket off once he’d regained control of his motor functions and gently scooped the babbling baby up in his arms. He draped the jacket around her, hand rubbing small circles over her back when she nestled against his shoulder and started cooing quietly. He could already feel a small patch of drool seeping through his shirt and onto his shoulder.

“What happened here, hm?” Alex asked, more to himself than to the bumbling baby in his arms. As far as he knew, there hadn’t been another crash since 1947. So why now? And why the hell send down a baby? Michael and the others were kids when they came out of their pods, so why was this different?

With a sigh, Alex walked over to his car and swung open the passenger door. He made sure the baby was warm in his jacket and moved to set her down gently on the seat. He almost dropped her when she let out the most blood curdling cry he’d ever heard – a cry that stopped as soon as she was leaning back against his shoulder.

“Okay, okay! Note to self, don’t put the baby down.”

Alex glanced around at the debris scattered around and groaned; this was going to be much harder with only one hand free. He stored it all away in the trunk of his car, doing his best to hide the broken iridescent alien pod that he was now hiding in his car. When he was sure he had it all, he closed the trunk with a gentle thud, so he didn’t irritate the baby, and walked around the side of his car.

A twinge of pain shot up his leg when he sat down behind the wheel, and the hand that wasn’t holding onto the baby shot down to grip just above the point where his prosthetic met his leg. He manoeuvred her so that she was sitting on his lap instead of against his shoulder and tried desperately to work out the cramp that was sending spasms of phantom pain down his leg.

The baby let out an irritated gurgle, but Alex had his eyes squeezed shut tight as he tried to remember how to breathe – his physical therapist had taught him some breathing exercises that were supposed to get him through the pain, but the pain seemed to be the only thing he could focus on.

And then it stopped.

Alex’s eyes flew open. It took a few moments to adjust to something other than the darkness that had been blocking out his vision moments ago, but when he finally did he saw a small hand resting on his arm and a pair of wide brown eyes looking up at him. The baby cooed when their gazes met, moving her hand away to reveal a glowing, iridescent handprint on his skin.

“Holy shit-” Alex’s eyes were wide as he stared down at the mark. The baby giggled in response and slapped a small hand over her mouth.

“Language, right. Don’t swear around tiny alien babies. Got it.” He stared at the handprint on his arm for a few more seconds, watching the way the colours shifted as he turned his arm in the light.

“I think we need to have a conversation about leaving handprints on strangers, young lady,” Alex hummed, unable to stop himself from beaming at the gentle gurgle he got in response. The baby nuzzled back up against him and closed her eyes, mouth opening in a small yawn that he should not have found adorable in the slightest.

“No, listen you can’t sleep here I have to drive us home-.”

Alex cut himself off, eyebrows furrowing for a moment. Us? Home?

“I mean I have to drive us back to my place whilst I figure out what to do, and it’s definitely illegal for you to be sleeping in my lap.” The baby didn’t move though, just curled a small hand in his shirt and closed her eyes. He could have sworn the smile on her face held a hint of smugness.

The internal debate on whether or not to move her lasted all of three seconds before he was reminded of the wail she let out earlier and he decided to let her stay.

“If a cop tries to pull us over and I have to outrun them, you’re in big trouble missy.”

Alex started up the car and put it into drive, one hand on the wheel and the other rubbing small circles into the babies back over his leather jacket. If he drove ten miles under the speed limit the whole way home, nobody had to know besides him and the precious cargo that he was carrying in his lap.

[shipmistress9]

Undine - 12

Fandom: HTTYD

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Hicret/Hicretstrid

Modern AU. Kinda-Mermaid AU.

FF-net   AO3

. o O o .

AN: Saying that this chapter is a little late would sound like a joke... I almost could have made another child since the last update... So I'll just say... I'm glad I finally found the time to write this. 😊

. o O o .

With unseeing eyes, Eret gazed into the depth of his mug. It was filled with some of Hiccup's tea, not the strong coffee he would usually drink at this criminal time of day. Or rather, night; it wasn’t even dawn yet.

He should be in bed, sleeping. He should be lying next to Hiccup, listening to his breathing, calm and even, reassuring. He should let that sound soothe him, that he was alive, that he was safe. But the events of the previous day had thrown him off completely, and Eret was wide awake, even without any caffeine.

Hiccup had almost died!

That wasn't something he could ignore, not even for the sake of a little sleep. Eret might have rested a bit, lying next to Hiccup, warming him in his arms, holding him and making sure he didn't slip away, but he hadn't slept. And now, he sat here in their kitchen, staring into his mug and tried to decide how to feel.

The Undine... That she was real was out of the question; her image was still staring at him from Hiccup's painting, with those big eyes that he couldn't forget even if he tried. But what did she want? Was Hiccup right and she'd come to save him? Or had she lured him into the water in the first place? Why else would he have gone into the ocean fully clothed? But when Eret had found him, he'd been on solid ground, too far up the shore for the waves to have carried him there. None of it made any sense ...

For endless hours, his mind was going in circles now, thinking the same thoughts again and again and again. Nothing made sense, and he knew that no matter how long he thought about it, it wouldn't get any better. Maybe, hopefully, time would bring him the answers he needed.

When the sun was finally about to rise, he got up from his seat with a heavy sigh and went to boil more water. He needed more to drink, maybe some coffee this time after all. And he should go and look after Hiccup, whether he was ready to wake up after sleeping for twelve hours straight or whether he needed more rest. He was pottering about, taking sips of his coffee and preparing a cup of tea for Hiccup when he heard it.

A tentative knock on their backdoor.

Eret whirled around, staring. Who could that be? It was way too early for any visitors, and they never got visitors anyway. And even if they were to get visitors, they would ring at the main entrance.

A stray thought came up to his mind, sending his heart pounding, but he dismissed it directly. That wasn't possible! It couldn't be–

The knock sounded again, and this time Eret shook his head and went to open it. Don't be an idiot! , he chided himself. It's probably just the postman or maybe Mrs Ingerman. It can't be...

The moment he laid eyes on the person outside, he froze. Pale skin, almost white in the grey morning light. Blond hair hanging in dark wet strands around a round face. And the same big eyes that had been ghosting through his mind for days now, deep and blue like the ocean.

She stood entirely still, eerily still, unmoving and not blinking even once as she gazed at him. Then she cocked her head and leaned closer, the motions too fast for his eyes to follow.

Eret jerked back in surprise. He thought about fleeing, about running away as fast as he could, about screaming. But his body was frozen in place, stunned. He had no idea how much time passed as she scrutinised him, utterly silent and moving in that strange jerky way.

It seemed unreal. Like a nightmare, maybe. Had he fallen asleep after all? She couldn’t be real , could she? His heart was beating at a rapid speed, and even if he had been able to move, he wasn’t sure what he would have done.

However, the choice was taken from him, when he heard other noises – coming from behind him . A door opening and closing, the shuffling of footsteps, a yawn. Then, “Mmh, is that fresh tea I smell? I hope you brew some for me, too? A cup of tea wou–”

Hiccup broke off, presumably when he entered the kitchen and saw that Eret wasn’t alone. The creature’s – he wasn’t sure whether he could call her a woman – head snapped around and in the blink of an eye, she was gone.

Eret instantly turned around toward Hiccup. And indeed, now it was he who got inspected closely. Eret incidentally noticed that the creature wasn’t wearing any clothes – and why would she? – but couldn’t pay that fact any mind. All his attention was on how she was looking at Hiccup, how he reacted in return.

Hiccup was gaping at her, his eyes wide. He blinked a few times, as if to make sure he wasn't imagining things, then muttered, "Am I still dreaming?"

Carefully, Eret shook his head. "No, I don't think so."

At his words, the Undine cocked her head and raised her hand, again with such an eerily quick movement. Hiccup didn’t shy away though, held entirely still as her pale fingers reached for his face.

With bated breath, Eret watched, slowly stepping closer. He couldn't say why, but the situation still didn't feel real. But somehow, he knew that it wasn't a dream. That the Undine was in their house! She was real, solid, about to make true physical contact. Who knew what that would mean for them? The thought was unsettling, to say the least.

But when she touched Hiccup, her fingers tracing his nose, jaw, and mouth with an almost childlike curiosity, Hiccup didn't react as Eret had expected. He didn’t shy away, wasn't startled, and instead just let her do. His eyes brightening and his lips splitting into a wide grin. “Well, hi there,” he greeted her in a cheerful voice.

She seemed startled by his words, her fingers hovering an inch away from his skin. Then, slowly, as if in slow-motion, her expression changed. The corners of her lips curled upwards, then the rest of her features followed until there was an awkward copy of Hiccup's grin on her face.

Eret wasn’t sure he could believe what he saw. "Is she… imitating you?”

Hiccup nodded, slowly. “It looks like it, doesn’t it?” Then he chuckled when she nodded in the same fashion. “Was that a yes or do you really just imitate me?” he asked.

He got no answer though. The creature just blinked, the smile slowly fading from her face.

Eret swallowed, then made a cautious step closer. “Do you even understand what we say?”

The Undine’s head whipped around, big eyes drilling into his. But again, she didn’t answer, and if he wasn’t mistaken, he saw something like confusion in her eyes.

“I don’t think she does,” Hiccup murmured, staring at her in fascination.

For a while, there was little change. Hiccup and Eret were at a loss for what to do with the Undine in their home. All she did was move back and forth between them, around them. She seemed giddy, if that was the right word, as far as they could guess from her behaviour. She didn’t talk or make any other noise, but she seemed to shake from something like chuckling every now and then, joy radiating from her eyes.

She didn’t respond to whatever they told her other than turn her head in the direction of the sounds. Gestures seemed to help more. When Hiccup offered her a shirt to put on – they couldn’t help it, her nude body was distracting! – she only looked at it without comprehension at first. She took it, but only to feel the texture of the fabric as it seemed, her hand running over the cloth is clear amazement. It took several attempts of gesturing of both of them before something like understanding dawned in her eyes, and then several more tries until she’d manoeuvred her arms through the sleeves.

Awkward and weird as that incident had been, it was still normal enough to ease Eret’s tension, for the moment at least. Whatever she was doing here, she didn’t seem to pose any direct threat. It was still eerie tough, to watch her abrupt movements, to feel her cool fingers on his face, or her utter lack of sense for personal space.

“I wonder why she came,” Hiccup mused. He was sitting on the sofa now, still clearly exhausted by the events of the previous day. In his hand, he held his mug of tea, but only occasionally took a sip from it as they watched her inspect the room. She always stayed close to one of them but appeared to be very interested in everything she saw.

Eret snorted. “Isn’t that obvious? She’s curious.”

Hiccup nodded, then directly shook his head. “Yes, but that’s not what I mean. She never even showed herself before, we only saw her by accident. And now she came here? What changed?”

“That’s a good question.” Frowning, Eret followed her with his eyes as she rushed around him.

Then something happened. He didn’t know what it was, but suddenly she was swaying where she stood, one hand reaching out to grasp at his arm for stability. Her knees gave way beneath her and Eret caught her just in time before she fell to the ground.

“What the–” he cursed under his breath, guiding her to the ground. She was even lighter than she looked.

Hiccup jumped up. “What happened?”

“I’m not sure. She stumbled, and…” Eret carefully watched the Undine. She looked dazed, her eyes not focussing as they’d done before. “I don’t know. But maybe something to drink might help? Could you get her some water?”

Hiccup nodded, rushed over to the sink and poured her a glass.

Meanwhile, Eret experienced an unexpected change of heart. Half an hour ago, the fact that the Undine had appeared at their door just like that had somewhat terrified him and he hadn’t been able to understand how Hiccup had stayed so calm. But now… She really didn’t seem threatening at all.

Or was that just what she wanted him to think?

When Hiccup returned with the water, she at first seemed confused but then eagerly drank the entire content without a pause. It seemed to help; her gaze focused again, first on Hiccup and the glass, then on a spot behind him. In the next moment, she was gone.

Bewildered, Eret stared into his empty arms, idly wondering whether he would ever get used to her sudden movements. Or whether he’d even need to get used to them…

A second later, both he and Hiccup looked up at the sound of running water, spotting the Undine standing by the sink. She leaned forward as water ran over her hands, her face wet as she drank eagerly.

. o O o .

Thirst.

It was a feeling the creature hadn't known before. She hadn't known what it was, had no word for the burning sensation in her throat or the dizziness that overcame her. But when she felt the water soothe the ache, she understood.

Without thinking, she rushed to where the smaller human had gotten it then basked in the constant stream as it wet her tongue and her skin. It was nothing to the power of the ocean... but for now, it was enough.

It was enough to clear her thoughts of the hazy mist, to let her think and see clearly again. Her head whipped around to the two humans still crouching on the ground where she'd fallen. They were making their weird incomprehensible noises, watching her with worried eyes.

This was not how she'd imagined their meeting would be. No, the truth was that she hadn't thought about it at all, but... But this didn't feel right, not enough. Their noises made so sense to her and she had no idea how to let them know what was on her mind either. They hadn't attacked her, that was something at least, but what now? Had she made a mistake by coming here? How could she spend time with them when they were so wary of her? She really hadn't thought this through.

Stupid , she chided herself. I should never have come here, should have stayed away.

But even as she thought that, something in her chest clenched painfully. She might not know what to do now, but she knew that going back was not an option. She just had to find a way to make them understand that... that... What was it that she wanted? She wanted to spend time with them, to be near them.

Her eyes lingered on them as the smaller one helped the bigger one up. They made more noises, then the bigger one nodded, brushed his lips against those of the smaller one, and left this part of their construction.

She blinked. Right, that was what they always did first thing when they met. Maybe that was her mistake, why they were treating her so differently. A smile spread across her face. That was something she could rectify quickly.

Without hesitation, she moved to where the smaller one stood. He flinched as if he was surprised to see her in front of him, but then smiled in a friendly way and made some more incoherent noises. She ignored them. Instead, she reached to hold his head still and did what the bigger human had done, pressing her lips to his.

Oh, that feels nice. Warm and soft .

She retreated, trembling with silent giggling, then did it again. This time, she poked her tongue out as she'd seen them do before. The human made a noise that sounded surprised, but when his lips parted, she didn't pay that any mind. He tasted good, sweet. Eagerly, she licked up the wetness in his mouth, shuddering when she felt his hands on her waist. So far, they hadn't touched her. It felt good. So warm.

After a few heartbeats, another sensation came up. It was strange, like a wave of warmth that slowly spread through her body, starting from where she felt him on her mouth and her waist. As if, bit by bit, something inside her was changing.

Then it stopped. No, not the changing stopped, she realised, but the human stopped touching her. There was a noise from somewhere behind her and when she turned she saw the bigger human gazing at them with wide eyes.

Right, she couldn't leave him out. She felt dizzy, though in another way as before, but pushed that sensation aside as she moved to the doorway where the bigger human stood. His eyes became even wider as they focused on her but he didn't move. Curious about whether he would taste as sweet at the other, she brought her mouth to his, humming quietly at the wonderfully warm feeling of his lips. She had to stretch to reach him but that only meant that she could feel more of him, his chest against her own.

His mouth didn't taste as sweet, she noticed, but sharper. Different, but just as good. She clung to him to get more of these sensations, shuddering in delight when that warm wave from before kept spreading through her. It moved to her chest, along her arms and legs all the way to her fingertips and toes, up her neck until it reached her head.

There, something like a lightning strike exploded in her mind. It made the world around her turn in circles until up was down and she didn't know where she was anymore.

Everything around her turned black.

. o O o .

Still stunned by the Undine's kiss, Hiccup stood frozen in place. His eyes were on where she now kissed Eret, and some unconnected part of his mind commented that it was a sight he could get used to. But before he could either follow that line of thought or chase it away, it was over. Their kiss ended abruptly as the Undine slid to the ground, leaving a rather dazed Eret standing.

Without thinking twice, Hiccup hurried toward them, kneeling down next to the unconscious Undine just as Eret did the same on her other side.

"What happened? Does she need more water?" he asked, worried. He pushed one arm beneath her shoulders as the other reached for her hand, lifting her upper body a little with Eret doing the same one her other side. No matter how weird it was to have her in their home... she'd saved his life. He couldn't stand the thought of something happening to her now.

But Eret shook his head. "I... I don't think so," he muttered. "It's... Are you okay? How are you feeling?"

The last words were clearly directed at Hiccup, even though he didn't quite understand the urgency in them. "Yes, of course, I'm okay. Why wouldn't I be?"

Eret grunted. Again, he shook his head, but this time it was more to clear his head than a negation. "Because that kiss felt... strange somehow, and I... I don't know..."

Okay, now that Eret had said it... "Yeah, I felt it, too," Hiccup admitted. "But I'm okay. More concerned about her."

I'm fine.

"I think she's fine," Eret murmured. "Maybe she just needs to rest?"

Resting sounds good.

Both he and Eret gasped, their heads jerking to look down at the Undine. Her eyes were open, tiredly looking from one to the other.

"Did... did you hear that, too?" Eret's voice was little more than a whisper, disbelieving and shaky.

Gulping, Hiccup nodded. "I did."

The Undine blinked.

You can hear me?

This time, there was no mistake. Her mouth hadn't moved and the voice wasn't audible, not really, more sounding directly in his head. But that didn't change that he could hear her words, clear as crystal. Hiccup exchanged a quick glance with Eret who nodded, even as he looked as if he'd seen a ghost.

"We do."

She blinked again then her eyes widened. A beautiful smile spread across her face, wide and radiant, and a sudden wave of joy surged through him.

And I can understand you, too!

[the--sad--hatter]

Name Calling (13)

FANDOM - MARVEL MCU

PAIRING - BUCKY X READER (female reader, no physical descriptions)

WARNINGS - ALL OF THEM, SMUT, VIOLENCE ANGST

DESCRIPTION -  In which the ongoing and bloody war of words between you and Bucky turns in your favor when a disgruntled one night stand of his lets slip a secret when you run into her in the elevator… Now you have all the ammunition you need to destroy your enemy but you don’t plan on killing him quickly. Oh no, Bucky Barnes was going to suffer and you were going to enjoy every second. You just didn’t count on how much you would enjoy it.

MASTERLIST  

Chapter Thirteen - The Best Laid Plans

Between Natasha and Clint, Maddox’s plan had been simple to figure out.

Step One: Lure you away from the Avengers protection to a controlled location.

Natasha had presented him with the perfect opportunity and like she suspected he hadn’t wasted it, inviting you to a Jazz Club that was a front for Hydra operatives. He was unaware you weren’t able to leave the compound without an escort and was expecting you to come alone, thinking it was a harmless date.

Step Two: Ensure your compliance and render you harmless.

They would try to put you down without arousing suspicion, denying you the chance to defend yourself. Since the club was definitely under Hydra control it was safe to assume the bartender was as well. There were a limited amount of drugs that could put down a super soldier and Natasha made an educated guess as to which one they would use. You were to pretend to drink it before proceeding to the bathroom.

Step Three: Transport your unconscious body to a secure location where his superiors would hand you over to Docherty.

In the bathroom you were to feign passing out before striking, taking out the operatives who were with you. Clint and Natasha were going to handle the agents in the club while Wanda provided cover for any civilians in the club. Fury and Hill were waiting to take the civilians in, keeping them from exposing the operation to the press and simultaneously weeding out any Hydra agents posing as innocents.

It was beautifully and flawlessly planned, as close to foolproof as a mission could be. Then The Winter Soldier, the most recognisable man on the planet besides Captain America to a Hydra Agent strode in the doors of the club like he owned the place and everything went to shit.

One of the fake waiters tailing you pressed his gun to the back of your head while the other aimed his gun at Bucky. There was screaming and crashing from behind you and you assumed Natasha and Clint had jumped into action, rolling with the change of events. You met Bucky’s gaze and narrowed your eyes at him.

“I am going to fucking kill you.” You hissed.

You and Bucky were held at a stalemate, unable to defend yourselves without endangering the other and the fake waiters knew it. You however knew something they did not. Right on schedule they were both sent careening backwards by a red mist.

“Never bring a gun to a witch fight boys.” You deadpanned.

Bucky didn’t waste a second and jumped into the fray, pulling a knife and hurtling it into the shoulder of an agent before slamming the agents head into a table with a sickening crack. You turned your sights to Maddox and were vindicated to see him swaying on his feet, he had done as you hoped and drunk the drugged Martini you had switched for his.

You were less happy to see the large man from the VIP section heading for the back door. That was the man you needed, the one who might know where Docherty was. You kicked your heels off and grabbed the bottom of your tight dress, ripping it up the seam to give you leg room and ran after him.

“Barnes with me.” You yelled.

You didn’t bother to check on Natasha and Clint, they were probably having the time of their lives and were more than capable of looking after themselves. Wanda was executing her part of the original plan perfectly, ushering the few civilians out of the club and protecting them from stray bullets. You didn’t check if Bucky was following you as you chased after your mark, picking up a discarded gun on your way.

You burst out of the back door of the club, crouching low which was wise as a bullet hit the door frame above your head. The bang was louder than you had expected and the noise sent a jolt of pain through your temple. You aimed your stolen gun in the direction the shot had come from and pulled the trigger. Your shot missed by a few inches and you swore and you quickly peered out from behind the door.

Your mark was being ushered into a car at the end of the alley, fourteen agents/bodyguards between you. You felt a heat at you back and someone fired a shot into the head of one of the agents.

“What are you doing here Barnes?” You snarled, firing at the agents between you and your target.

“I knew something was off about Maddox.” He snarled back.

“Well you were right, he’s Hydra. The only problem is WE ALREADY KNEW THAT!” You yelled in frustration.

“Don’t yell at me, I’m not the idiot who agreed to a date with a known Hydra agent.” He replied, swerving to avoid a shot that would have taken his head off.

“Well obviously I didn’t know he was when he first asked.” You reasoned.

“So you wanted to go on a date with that obnoxious son of a bitch?”

Your mark was in the car and you weren’t about to let them drive him away.

“Oh fuck this.” You said.

You ducked out of your hiding place and ran straight into the line of fire but you did it so quickly and unexpectedly that your enemies didn’t have a chance to take advantage of the clear shot. They were also perplexed by you running straight past them. They weren’t perplexed for long before The Winter soldier was on them. You pushed off from the ground and onto the wall of the alley to give yourself the necessary propellation to leap onto the roof of the car.

“How did you even know where we were?” You yelled back at Bucky as you shot through the roof and leaned to the side to dodge the returning shot.

“Don’t change the subject doll, did you want to go out with him?” He asked calmly, snapping an agents neck with ease.

You were sweating and panting and he was just breezing through the agents, leaving bodies in his wake without a hair out of place. You hated him more than ever in that moment. You let that hate fuel your rage as you punched down through the sunroof, shattering the glass and grabbed the collar of the high ranking hydra officer you had been hunting. You yanked the much larger man up through the shattered sunroof with ease and used your free hand to smash his jaw.

“Knife.” You called to Bucky and held up you hand.

You caught the blade he hurled to you by the handle and released your marks collar, grabbing his jaw and prising it open. The man struggled as you twirled the borrowed knife in your hand.

“Can’t promise I’ll be gentle.” You told him with a bloodthirsty smirk.

You manoeuvred the blade into his mouth and carefully carved out the false tooth you knew he had. Blood dripped from his mouth as he wriggled in your grasp and you pulled the tooth and cyanide capsule from his jaw.

“Your creator is coming for you vernichtung.” He gurgled at you hatefully.

“Yeah? You can tell me all about it later.” You replied, grabbing him by the back of the head and slamming his head into the roof of the car.

You left him hanging half out of the sunroof, his unconscious upper half spread across the roof of the car and his legs dangling inside it. You casually stepped off the roof and spun the knife in your hand, holding it out to Bucky by the handle.

He was looking at you strangely as he took it back.

“What?” You asked.

“You didn’t answer my question.” He said.

“I don’t know. Yes? If Natasha hadn’t told me he was Hydra I would have still come on the date. Why does it matter, he’s dead by now. Drank the roofie meant for me and well… he’s no super soldier.” You said without a hint of remorse.

Bucky scoffed in derision and you rolled your eyes.

“What the fuck is your problem Barnes?”

“You’re my problem sweetheart. You’ve been nothing but trouble since you walked into the compound and I’m tired of it.” He spat at you, looming over you.

“Well excuse me if I withhold my sympathy for someone who actually deserves it.” You taunted.

“You know what, you insolent little...”

Natasha cleared her throat and you both whirled round to look at her.

“If you two are done with your foreplay you might want to take your informant and get the hell out of here.” She told you, grinning like the cat that ate the canary.

“Huh?” You asked.

“Police are about to arrive on the scene, where witnesses just saw you very efficiently kill people. There’s a very bloody high up Hydra official behind you who knows you’re Vernichtung. So unless you want to stick around and ask Senator Stern if he’ll let you sign the accords instead of occupying a cell on the raft then you need to leave.” She elaborated.

“It’s a good thing you showed up when you did Barnes, she needs someone to go with her.” She added.

“Absolfuckinglutley not!” You yelped.

Bucky glared at you and strode over to your victim, pulling him from the car and tying his arms up before shoving him the boot of the car.

“No. I can’t do it.” You told Nat.

“He knows where the safe houses are and you need someone with you. We don’t have time to wait for Sam or Steve to come and take you.”

There was a crunching sound as Bucky ripped what you assumed was a tracker from underneath the car and crunched it underneath his boot. You sighed heavily.

“We don’t have time to argue. You’ll be fine.” She assured you as the sound of sirens rapidly approached.

“You had better take care of her Barnes.” She called before she sauntered away.

“Get in the car.” Bucky growled at you.

Your shoulders drooped as you resigned yourself to the situation. You weren’t moving quickly enough for him apparently because he strutted over to you and got up in your personal space.

“Get in the car or I’ll put you in the car.” He threatened.

“Christ Barnes, you’re such a caveman.” You said, but you did as he told you and climbed into the passenger seat.

Thankfully, minus the broken sunroof and bullet holes on the roof the car wasn’t in bad condition externally. It would get you away from the scene so you could switch vehicles at least. He pulled the dead driver out of the seat and dumped him into the alleyway before the two of you drove away for the most uncomfortable, awkward road trip ever.

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

A frantic Tony ran into the common room where a worried looking cluster of Avengers was standing around.

“Have you seen Kit Kat?” Tony asked.

“Have you seen Bucky?” Steve asked simultaneously.

They frowned at each other.

“Wanda is also missing.” Vision helpfully interjected.

“Clint and Nat aren’t here either.” Sam noted.

“Friday said Kit Kat wasn’t on the premises.” Tony frowned.

“I have located Miss Stark’s cellphone Boss, it’s in the city. Multiple news reports are coming in from the same location.” Friday supplied.

The TV switched on and the remaining Avengers shared similar looks of dread and worry.

“Suit up.” Steve said, taking charge of the situation.

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

Two car changes, four hours later and not a single word said between you and Bucky and you were at the safe house. It was the middle of the night, it was pouring rain and you were in the worst mood. Bucky slipped from the car and went to check the safe house to ensure it was in fact safe and you leaned your head against the passenger window with a sigh and watched the raindrops roll down it.

You’d had to flee the city, flee from Tony and your friends, you were about to interrogate someone and you were stuck with Bucky Barnes. The same Bucky who over the last week alone had insulted you, belittled you, physically fought with you, rescued you, seen you become Vernichtung and followed you on a date to protect you.

You were wound up tightly like a coil waiting to snap. As angry as you were at Tony for not telling you Docherty was working with Hydra you felt bad for just disappearing. It had been an emotionally exhausting week and it was beginning to take it’s toll on you.

Bucky returned, pulling your kidnappee from the boot and carrying him into the house. You unbuckled your seatbelt slowly and noted that your body was aching now that the adrenaline had worn off. You opened the car door and flinched when Bucky’s form suddenly appeared in front of you. He reached in to grab you and you leaned back with an alarmed expression.

“What are you doing?” You asked.

“You kicked your shoes off in the club. You’re barefoot and it’s a gravel driveway.” He said.

“So your going to what, carry me inside? I can handle a bit of gravel Bucky, just move.” You muttered tiredly, pushing him out of the way.

“Why do you have to be so fucking stubborn.” He snapped.

“Why do you have to be so bipolar?” You snapped back.

“What the hell does that mean?” He asked, slamming the car door shut.

“It means that last night you were getting cosy with me in the kitchen and today you’re back to snapping at me like I’m your worst enemy.” You said, throwing your hands in the air in exasperation.

“Maybe I’m angry with you right now because you put yourself in danger to settle a vendetta.”

“Really? That’s what you’re going with? Let me ask you something Soldat. If Zola was still alive, what would you do?” You demanded.  

“I’d do my best to remember the difference between Justice and Revenge.” He warned.

You bit your lip as you mulled that over.

“There isn’t any justice for the things Docherty has done. If I wanted revenge I would kill him slowly. But I can kill him and put an end to his reign of misery.” You said.

“What you are, what he made you, It isn’t your fault. Killing him would just make you into what he wanted you to be and it would be your own fault, not his. It won’t change what he did to you, it won’t take away the monster inside of you.”

You recoiled from him, anger and shock clouding your features.

“I’m well aware of what I am, that I’m a monster. I don’t need you to remind me.”

“Don’t twist my words.” He snapped bitterly.

“You’ve told me what you think I am so many times so I’m hardly twisting anything.”

He looked torn and angry as he stood there, rain soaking through his hair and running down his face.

“I was wrong. You’re not a monster, not even close to one doll.”

“What?” You whispered.

“You want to know what I would do if Zola was alive? I would hunt him down and kill him. But I AM a monster. I can’t let you become one, not after you fought so fucking hard your whole life against it. I won’t let you be like me.”

“Be like you?”

He ran his fingers through his hair and looked up at the sky like he was looking to the heavens for strength. His eyes were wild and desperate as he yelled at you.

“You didn’t give in. You didn’t let them turn you into a killer. You’re better than me!”

“You utter fucking idiot. How dare you! I didn’t give in because I knew what they were! I knew what they wanted me to be! They never fed me lies like they did to you, they never told me ‘My work was a gift to mankind’. You screamed at him.

He froze up, shock overtaking him.

“You wanna know the fucked up truth? You were the reason I wanted to join The Avengers, because I wanted to be like you. I wanted to take all the bad things they put in me and use it for good, like you were doing.”

“Doll, I...” He didn’t know what to say.

“Then I met you, and you were such an asshole. I guess that’s why they say you should never meet your idols.”

You stormed past him and into the house, leaving him shocked to his core as the rain beat down on him.

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

Dun dun dunnnnnnnnnnnnn

@nerdandproud-86 @harrison-shot-first @chook007 @thejourneyneverendsx @thelostallycat @inquisitor-selvala @the-corruptor @iovher @kendrawr-kitkat @phoenix-whiskey-tears @the--real-wombat @buckitybarnes @fairislesheets @angieptt @meganjonezzzz

@dugan365 @fluffeh-kitty @memanda17 @krystallynx @theonelittleone

@piscesbarnes @free-as-fishes @tarastudiesalot @captainamericasbeard