#i wonder what nick’s body count is by the end of the series

[jellysmudge]

Conversations at like 4 am

[mamaestapa]

The Name Game

•pairing: Joe Burrow x reader

•series summary: Y/n Hubbard, the younger sister of Cincinnati Bengals Defensive End Sam Hubbard, finds herself in a difficult situation after a steamy hookup with her brothers best friend, who just so happens to be the quarterback for the Bengals. In just nine months their lives will be changed forever. How will Y/n and Joe manage to to go through parenthood together? more so, how will Sam take the news he is going to be the uncle of his best friends baby?

•chapter summary: You and Joe decide on a name for your baby boy

•word count: 3.9k

•warnings: pregnancy, hormones, JEALOUS JOE, slight body image issues, mentions of past "relationships", baby burrow has the hiccups, some angst, but this chapter is really just pure fluff<3

series masterlist

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June 12, 2023

6 months pregnant

Today, you were supposed to go out to lunch with Emma, but she had to cancel for a last minute 4D ultrasound. So instead of indulging in your most recent craving (cheese fries), you were sat on the couch cuddled up under your favorite fluffy white throw blanket, reading through a "What To Expect When You're Expecting" pregnancy book. While the book had some pretty interesting things to say about pregnancy and postpartum, you were really only reading it to pass time.

You were currently waiting for Joe to get home from his golf tournament with some friends from college. After Emma canceled lunch, you had asked Joe if you could go and spectate the tournament. It would give you something to do and get you out of the house for some fresh air. Joe immediacy turned down your request, saying he didn't want you to be bored out of your mind in the heat all day. As much as you did want to get out and see some of your mutual friends from college, you also wanted to stay inside where it was cool. The June humidity and being six months pregnant was not the greatest mix.

As you were reading through the section of the book about the third trimester, you heard the door to the garage open. Joe was finally home. You closed your book and set it on the couch, throwing the blanket off your body as you stood up from the couch. Just as you got up, Joe walked into the living room. A wide smile graced his features when he saw you standing by the couch. "Hey, you." He greeted as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. You smiled softly and hummed contently as you let the side of your face rest against Joe's chest. Joe's loving embrace and strong arms never failed to bring a smile to your face.

"How was golf?" you asked. Joe nodded as you pulled away from the hug. He brought a hand up to his face to wipe the sweat from his forehead. "It was good. Didn't play my best, but I'm not much of a golf guy. I mainly went to catch up with the guys."

"I'm glad you had a good time," you said with a small smile, "who won?"

"Nick," Joe let out a small sigh before he continued speaking, "he says hi by the way, and he wants to see you before he goes back to San Francisco."

You pushed your bottom lip out slightly as you placed your hands over your heart, "Awe, I miss him."

Joe chuckled, "He misses you too."

Your smile fell as you narrowed your eyes slightly, crossing your arms over your chest as you looked at Joe, "Does he know I'm pregnant? Because I never told him."

"Yes," Joe chuckled, "he knows you're pregnant. He was one of the first people I told." You nodded, a small smile gracing your features once again. You were about to say something when Joe cut you off, with an enthusiastic "Oh!" You cocked your head to the side, eyeing Joe with wonder.

"That reminds me," he began. "I left a gift Nick has for you, well for us, in the car. I'm going to shower real quick then I'll go get it." 

A gift from Nick? This could either be something really good or really bad. You never know with Nick.

"Okay..." you trailed off, "What kind of gift?"

"You'll see," Joe leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss to your temple, "I'm going to shower." You hummed at the feeling of his lips on your forehead. "Okay babe," you said, "have fun in the shower, but not too much fun." you teased, wiggling your finger at him.

"I'll try not to."

You scrunched your nose as Joe ruffled your hair a bit before he left the living room and jogged up the stairs to his bedroom--which was now yours, too.

You sat back down on the couch, getting comfy under your blanket once again. Once you were comfortable you reached over and grabbed the book off the cushion beside you, starting to read where you left off before Joe got home. You flipped through the pages of the book, reading a chapter on what to expect throughout month six of your pregnancy. You had just a little over three more months left. Time really does fly because it feels like just last month you found out you were pregnant, when really it's actually been five.

Every day that passes is just one more day closer to meeting your baby boy.

While you couldn't wait to meet the sweet boy that's been growing like a weed in your belly for the past six months, part of you was also extremely anxious for what to expect once he's born. Once he's here with you and Joe, there would be no going back. No do overs. It's starting to set in that you and Joe will be raising a human for the rest of your lives. What a huge learning experience it's going to be for the both of you. Thankfully, you still have a few months to prepare yourselves for this big change as much as you can.

As you were focused on the section about cravings, you were surprised by the feeling of warm hands on your bare shoulders. You hunched up your shoulders at the sudden contact, but they soon relaxed as Joe began kneading his thumbs into the knots in your shoulders and upper back.

"Mmm," you moaned blissfully at the feeling of his thumbs digging into your tight muscles, "don't stop..." 

"You always say that, Mama's." Joe replied slyly to your content moans. You gasped at his comment, deciding to play along with teasing him "Mr. Burrow! There are little ears here." 

Joe chuckled as he removed his hands from your shoulders. He hopped over the side of the couch and plopped down next to you. "Well Miss Hubbard, he can't hear me yet can he?" You looked over at Joe, giving him a look of disbelief. "Yes, he can actually. Remember when we stopped our erm...activities because he can hear us now?"

Joe chuckled as he nodded, "Oh yeah, I remember that."

"See, I told you-."

"Oh!" Joe cut you off, "I almost forgot, I'll be right back." Joe said, getting up from the couch and leaving the living room without another peep.

"Okay?" you giggled, thinking out loud in confusion.

As fast as Joe went outside, he came back in. He walked into the living room holding a large, almost textbook like book in his hands. Joe grinned excitedly as he sat down next to you once again, handing you the book as he did so.

You examined the front cover, a smile on your face as your fingers traced over the picture of stork carrying a baby boy and baby girl.

"Nick got this for us. It's a book full of baby names, old wives tales for figuring out the gender, cravings you could have, it's actually pretty cool." Joe explained.

Your smile widened as you began flipping through the book. "This is pretty neat," you said, looking up Joe with a thoughtful gaze, "how thoughtful of him."

"I know right? It is pretty sweet."

As you flipped through the book, it dawned on you that you and Joe still haven't done one of the most important things expectant parents could do: pick out a name for your baby.

You've both thrown out some names here and there, but nothing has stuck out to either of you yet. Maybe this book will help? You thought before you brought it up to Joe.

"You know, peanut does need a name..." you said, turning your head to look at Joe. He smiled at the use of the nickname you'd both given the baby boy in your belly. Joe reached out and grabbed the book from you, flipping through the pages until he found a page titled: "500+ baby boy names'".

The two of you began to read through the list of names.

Henry...

Grayson...

Isaac ...

Sean...

Joshua...

There were so many name to consider.

"Hmm," Joe hummed, "Daniel is cute...call him little Danny?" You shook your head, "No, that name makes me think of daddy Amendola." As soon as you realized you said daddy instead of Danny, you covered your mouth. A deep blush rose to your cheeks as you corrected your slip up. "I mean Danny, D-Danny Amendola. I'm sorry that just slipped out."

Joe chuckled, "I didn't know you had the hots for Dola...should I tell him?"

"NO!" You screeched a little too quickly. You cleared your throat and shook your head "I do not have the hots for Danny Amendola."

"You totally do."

''Do not," you giggled at Joe's teasing tone, "It just slipped out!"

"Mhm, sure."

You just shook your head at Joe as you continued to scan over the list of boy names.

"How about August?

Joe scrunched his nose up and shook his head, "Eh, it's cute. I just don't think it sounds right with either of our last names. I want something that sounds right."

You thought about it.. August Burrow... August Hubbard. Yeah no.

"Yeah," you agreed, "you're right."

"I'm always right with this type of stuff, Y/n."

You rolled your eyes at Joe's remark as you both continued to look through the list of names. You and Joe just couldn't seem to agree on any of the names either of you liked.

"Jackson? That's cute." Joe smiled.

"Ohh, like Jack Hughes." you said, biting your lip slightly. Joe rolled his eyes, "Oh god," he huffed out a breath and mumbled "here we go again..."

"What?" You asked, giggling softly at as his reaction. Your question made Joe frown, "You know what! Let me guess, you have the hots for him too?" You gave him your signature "seriously?" look as you reached out and put your hand on his shoulder, "I do not."

Joe just gave you a resting bitch face in response. You sighed softly, deciding to come clean, "Maybe a little, but it's harmless," you turned your body towards Joe, leaning in and kissing his cheek, "I have the hots for you more." You whispered in Joe's ear, making him forget all about the little twinge of jealousy he was feeling.

Joe smirked at your words, "Oh sweetheart," he wet his plump lips as he looked at yours, "I know you do."

You felt your face heat up from a combination of his actions and his words. Every time Joe called you sweetheart it made you feel things you never thought you'd feel. Joe leaned in and placed a chaste, yet loving kiss to your lips. You smiled at him as he pulled away from your lips.

"So, do we have any names we both like?" You asked, looking down at the book. Joe scanned over the list, "Well, all the ones I like, you think other athletes with the same name are hot, so no, we do not have any."

"Well, sorry! I can't help it." You exclaimed, deciding to mess with him a little bit, "you think you're the only one I find attractive?"

"Do you really want me to answer that?"

You chuckled, "C'mon Joey, it's not like you're good friends with them. I've never even talked to them!" You cocked your head to the side as you remembered the conversation you had with Jack Hughes a while back. "Well, actually, I take that back."

Joe shot you a look of bewilderment, "What? Do you mean like talk talk, or just as friends?"

"Well..." you trailed off, "I- wait, are you jealous?"

"Pshh, no?" he said, voice going up an octave. You smiled, "You so are. Joe, don't be jealous seriously. I never talk talked to any of them. I used to talk to Jack here and there, but that's it."

Joe stayed silent, making you frown slightly.

"Seriously Joe, it's nothing." you reached out and put a hand on his thighs, squeezing it gently, "I love you, and only you. You are way hotter than Danny and Jack. Plus, they don't have a nickname like you do..."

That made Joe crack a smile. He looked over at you, chuckling as he reached out to pull you into a sweet kiss. As Joe pulled back, he shrugged, a sly smirk on his face. "That's true. They don't have the honor of being called 'big daddy' like me."

"Exactly." 

The two of you laughed as Joe put an arm around you as the two of you looked back through the book of names. About twenty minutes later, you had it narrowed down to your top six favorite names in no particular order.

Jaxson...

Ben...

Theo...

Jace...

Levi...

Brooks…

"I think these names are perfect." You said, smiling down at the list of possible named for your son as you rubbed your bump. Joe put his hand on your belly, "I agree," he said, as he too started to rub your bump, "except there's one that really stands out to me."

"You know what," You looked over at Joe, "me too." you smiled, hoping he'd agree with you.

"Which one?" 

You told him the name and a wide grin broke out over his face. 

"That's the one i was thinking too." He said softly. "Well, they do say great minds think alike." You chuckled as your grin matched Joe's.

He leaned in and captured your lips in a loving kiss. You brought your hand up to the nape of his neck, pulling him in even closer. After the two of you pulled away, Joe put his forehead on yours, that sweet smile still taking over his lips, "Did we just name our baby?" He asked, his tone hopeful. You nodded, confirming his question, "I think we did."

Joe smiled at you before situating his position on the couch. He moved his head down to your bump, keeping his hand placed on it. He brought his lips close to your skin and began to talk to the little guy.

"Hey little man, I think your mama and I just figured out what we're going to name you. Can you give daddy a kick if you like it? It’s only a first name for now, but, we can't have our favorite son not like his name."

You felt your heart swell with love as you listened to Joe talk to his baby boy. You felt the familiar flutter of your baby moving in your tummy. Joe laughed, "Hey! Thanks little dude." He looked up at you smirking, "I think peanut likes his name."

You smiled, running your hands through his blonde locks, "I think he does too.” Joe laid his head on against your belly, humming as you ran your fingers through his hair.

“Bump is getting bigger mama.” Joe mumbled as he nuzzled his cheek against your belly. You huffed out a little sigh, a slight frown on your face.

“I know. I look swollen twenty four seven and none of my clothes fit. I feel so fat, Joe.”

It felt like you were getting bigger every day. While it was comforting knowing your baby was healthy and growing, the constant swelling and need to buy new clothes made you a little self conscious about your body.

Joe lifted his head from your belly, looking at you with furrowed brows and a frown. “Y/n, sweetie,” he began softly, “you’re not fat. You’re growing our baby, and he needs room to grow so of course you’re going to swell a little bit.”

You stayed silent. Your silence made Joe rub your belly as he stared at you intensely, a genuine smile on his face. “And I think,” he leaned down to kiss your bump, “You look so fucking sexy growing our baby.”

You blushed at Joe’s words, “Joey, stop it.” He smirked at you before placing gentle kisses all over your belly.

“I love this bump…” he placed one more kiss below your belly button before he started trailing up your torso, “And don’t even get me started on these boobs….”

Your blush deepened, growing more crimson with each praise that fell from Joe’s lips. He always knew how to make you feel better when you felt self conscious about your changing body. He nuzzled his face in the valley of your swollen breasts, making your breath hitch in the back of your throat.

“God I can’t get enough of you sweets. I’d take you right here on this couch and prove to you just know sexy I think you are.”

“Joe, the baby,” You said, giggling softly as you saw his eyes widen, "Oh! Oops, heh." he said, covering the sides of your bump with his veiny hands.

"Ear muffs, buddy." Joe whispered against your bump, making the baby kick in return. Joe chuckled at the feeling before he leaned in and captured your lips in a sweet and sensual kiss.

“But in all seriousness…you look beautiful, Y/n.”

You smiled sweetly at him. “Thank you Joey, you always know how to make me feel better. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Joe laid his head back down on your belly, stroking your bump as you brought your hands back to his golden locks. The mix of your hands massaging his scalp and the comfort of your body had Joe falling fast asleep against your belly. Joe had his best sleep when he cuddled you and your unborn baby. Your heart swelled at the sight below you. You placed a hand on your upper abdomen where the baby's feet supposedly were. Smiling, you began to talk to him. 

One thing you and Joe always made sure to do at least twice a day was talk to the baby. You wanted him to be able to recognize both of your voices as soon as he was out of the womb. Of course, he would instantly know yours as he's been hearing it constantly, but if Joe hadn't been talking to him as often as he does, the little guy probably wouldn't recognize his daddy's voice, and you know that would just break Joe’s heart if his son didn’t recognize his voice.

"Hi baby,” you quietly cooed down at your tummy, “I can't talk too loud...don't want to wake your daddy." you whispered, smiling when you saw a small smile tug at Joe’s lips. He must be dreaming. You thought.

"Anyways," you continued, "you have a name now buddy! How great is that?"

You felt a kick from him in response. You chuckled slightly at the feeling, "I’m going to take that as a ‘it’s great mom!'” You felt another flutter, making your smile widen. You smiled contently as you continued, “but I hope you're enjoying it in there...you'll be out in the world before you know it baby boy. Just a few more months and mommy and daddy can finally hold you." 

You smiled at the thought of holding your newborn son for the first time. However, the second you see Joe hold him though, it will be over. Your heart will absolutely burst from all the overwhelming love and cuteness.

"Well, I’ll stop bothering you my little love...just know that mommy and daddy love you so so much, and we can't wait to meet you." You brought your hand up to your mouth, pressing a kiss to your fingertips before bringing it back down and pressing it on your bump. You then did the same to Joe’s cheek. You placed your hand over his back, rubbing it up and down softly as he slept. You sat quietly, scrolling through your Instagram feed and letting Joe sleep. Suddenly, you felt the baby move harshly, making you wince. You felt the sudden urge to pee, meaning you definitely just got an elbow to the bladder.

You felt Joe’s chest rumble with laughter, “Woah, I felt that one." You chuckled, "Yeah me too. I just got an elbow right in my bladder. So if you'll excuse me, i’m going to go to bathroom before I pee all over this couch.”

Joe smiled as he chuckled softly. He picked his head up from your belly, sitting up on the couch and yawning. You stood up from your spot, supporting your growing bump and slightly aching back. You made your way into the bathroom and did your business just in time. Every time baby presses against your bladder, you know you have only minutes to get to a bathroom.

You finished up in the bathroom, heading back into the living room and sighing in relief as you sat back down on the couch. Joe put his phone down beside him, chuckling at the sound of your sigh. He brought his hand back to your belly, pushing against the swollen skin to try to get the baby to move.

His attempts to get your son to move were unsuccessful, until Joe took his hand away. You started to feel constant flutters, that soon turned into little pulsing movements you could see from the outside.

“Look at that,” Joe said, pointing at your bump, “I’ve never seen him move like that before.” You furrowed your brows, nodding in agreement with your boyfriend.

“I haven’t either?”

You were confused at first at the feeling of the pulsating flutters every few seconds…until you realized what exactly was happening.

Your baby had the hiccups.

“Awe,” you gasped softly, “I think he has the hiccups.”

Joe glanced at you, raising his eyebrows, “Really?” You nodded, giggling lightly, “Yeah, look.”

You and Joe watched with smiles on your faces as your bump twitched every few seconds from each hiccup that came from your baby.

“That is the cutest thing I’ve seen,” Joe gushed as he kept his eyes on your bump, “little man’s got the hiccups.” He finished, pushing his lip out slightly.

You and Joe kept your eyes on your belly as your son’s hiccups continued for about another minute. It was a crazy feeling, but it was even crazier seeing it from the outside. Once the movements stopped completely, you brought you hand to your bump and patted the side gently.

“Feel better little guy?” You asked with a chuckle. Joe brought his hand to the other side of your belly, his chuckle matching yours. “I’m sure he does.”

You smiled softly and leaned back in the couch, resting your head on Joe’s shoulder.

“I can’t believe we saw his first hiccups today.” You said, awe laced in your voice. Every pregnancy milestone you experience never failed to wow you. Joe smiled as he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer into his side.

“And I can’t believe we finally picked a name for him.” Joe mused as he squeezed your body gently. You hummed as you spoke to you baby.

“We love you…” You said the baby’s name, making both you and Joe smile.

“Yes we do,” Joe replied with just as much love, “We can’t wait to meet you little man.”

hey loves!!

so baby burrow/hubbard finally has a name🥹 which one do you think it is?? i won’t be revealing it until the birth chapter ;))

this chapter was so fun to write. i love the fluffy stuff<3 but…we’ll see some angst again soon because you know how i am👀

(also this was not edited throughly, i apologize for errors)

i’m posting this chapter as a little thanksgiving gift to all of you, to show how thankful i am for every single one you. thank you so much for everything loves! your love and support means the world🤍🤍

happy thanksgiving babes!🤍

tags: @dandelionwrites8 @joeburreauxsworld @theflawedwriter @mrsshiesty @ann288 @ijustcrypretty @theoneandonlyfanz @wickedfun9 @venus-b @hummusxx @stainednailpolishremover @a-moment-captured @alternativemadchen @erinmartin1987 @sirlewisworld @kkrenae @unhingedfangirl @sublimemusic-rebel @meameagirl @ilovejoeburroww @hallecarey1 @j-worlds-blog @blinkloverx3 @jordyn14 @kristencochefski1125 @ryiamarie @unsaidjaelinrose @sinners-98-world @ozwriterchick @evernova @fangirl-madz @fantasywritersstuff @jackharloww @bernelflo @austinswhitewolf @emherb10

[thezombieprostitute]

Changing Minds - Epilogue

Summary: Your long time work acquaintance Nick Fowler offers to take you to a fancy fundraiser as a way of cheering you up. He insists it's only as friends but when he sees you falling into the grasp of someone he knows is no good, he might change his mind on that.

Word Count: ~1.7k

Warnings: Injured character, References to violence, SMUT. Please let me know if I missed any.

A/N: Reader is an older female (late 30's +). This is part of the Garbage Men AU.

Part 8

Series Masterlist

“N-N-Nick, you’re, oh, s-supposed t-to be, ah, resting,” you stammer as Nick continues fucking you with his tongue. He growls into your pussy at your words, his dark eyes telling you that he’s not stopping for anything less than another orgasm from you. He switches to your clit, gently sucking and licking, as he plunges two of his thick fingers into you, making you arch your back and moan. You don’t think you’ve ever felt so much pleasure in such a short time.

True to your word you’d held Nick’s hand as he was getting patched up. It really felt like he was just looking for an excuse to hold your hand and have you dote on him, but you didn't mind. He was prescribed bed rest and painkillers but he declined the latter saying he didn't care for the dulled senses that came with it. 

He practically begged you to not send him away for his bed rest. He'd sleep on your couch if you wanted but he needed to be near you in case of retaliation from Kent’s people. Your apartment building was still being watched by Nick's people so it was also much safer for him. You told him you’d be happy to take care of him while he rested in your bed and he smirked.

“So you finally believe me when I tell you I want you?”

“You heard that,” you commented. “I thought I’d said it quietly enough.”

“My hearing is better than you think,” he pulls you in for a kiss. “Looking forward to hearing all your whimpers and moans tonight. If you’ll let me.”

Your body is on fire. Forgetting yourself for a moment you hold Nick tight to you, letting go as soon as you hear his pained grunt. “Shit. Sorry, Nick. You really should lay down and get some proper rest.”

“Not a chance,” he snarls before kissing you again. “Finally got you, not gonna let a few injuries get in the way of being with you.”

“Exactly,” you breathe, pulling away from him. “You’ve got me, we’ve got time.”

“Nope,” he pulls you close again. “Gotta make up for lost time. All that time I didn’t see you for the wonderful, intelligent, strong, beautiful Lady you were.”

Thinking he’ll fall asleep as soon as he lays down, at most after you get in some cuddling, you smile and lead him to the bedroom. You undress and his eyes darken with lust. 

“Lay down for me,” he says, his tone just shy of an order. 

And that’s how you ended up coming on Nick’s tongue enough times that your brain melted. Now his thick, talented fingers are working their own magic as his eyes study you. He’s clearly looking for a reaction but you’re too lost in all the sensations to know what to give him. His stubble gently scratching your thighs. His mouth playing with your pearl. The sounds he’s pulling from you that you didn’t know you could make.

Then his fingers graze over a spot that has you seeing stars, stretching your legs open wider for him. When your eyes can focus again, Nick looks almost sinister and he rubs his fingers over that spot again, just long enough for you to react but not long enough to follow through on that ecstasy it gives you. He does it again and you whine, your pussy clenching around his fingers. 

“Please, Nick,” you rasp. 

He releases your clit, giving you some relief, and coos, “do you promise not to keep talking about me needing rest?”

“Y-yes, Nick.”

“Good,” he licks your clit again. “Because you are the best damn medicine in the world for me.” He moves his fingers over that same spot and, this time, doesn’t stop rubbing. He watches you come apart on his fingers and he moans at how beautiful you look. He’ll never get tired of hearing you chanting his name as he makes you come. 

You’re not sure at what point you passed out. You just remember waking up to Nick smiling as he praised you. 

“Nick,” you rasp. “I feel like I can’t move my legs.”

“Don’t worry my Lady. I’ll take damn good care of you.”

“I’m supposed to be taking care of you,” you protest. 

“You want to take care of me,” he raises an eyebrow questioningly. “Then how about I get a condom on.” You moan at that and he starts to undress. 

You could tell that Nick was strong but seeing him without his shirt gave you an entirely new appreciation for how strong he really was. And an appreciation for how gentle he could be with you. If you could move you’d crawl over and start kissing his injuries in appreciation for how he had protected you. As it was, your legs were completely useless and Nick had effectively drained you of strength in all the best ways. 

When Nick finally removes his boxers you lick your lips in anticipation, making him chuckle darkly. “You are an eager Lady,” he comments.

“I’m also eager to make up for overlooking you,” you confess. “All those dates that led to nothing and I didn’t once think of you.”

Nick puts the condom on and moves onto the bed, hovering over you as he gives a deep, gentle, loving kiss. “No more regrets,” he says as he starts gently pushing his erection into you. The stretch feels so good and you moan appreciatively, kissing along Nick’s jawline until he’s fully sheathed. You swear you can feel him shaking with effort to be gentle for you. He whispers, “tell me when you’re ready for me to move.”

“Please, Nick,” you whine. “Please fuck me like you’ve wanted to.” 

Nick groans at your words and starts rolling his hips. You’re incredibly grateful he put so much time and energy into preparing you. His cock is so much more than any other lover you’ve had and he clearly knows how to use it. He’s hitting all of the spots you need and, as he increases his pace and force, you find yourself careening towards yet another blissful orgasm. 

“That’s it, beautiful Lady,” he grunts. “Come all over my cock. Wanna feel how tight you can squeeze me.” He sits back on his feet and readjusts himself, pushing into you at a new angle that has you gasping. His hand moves to your clit and he rubs it in time with his thrusts, pushing you over the edge and you squeeze him as you cream all over his cock, making him come with you. He lets out a few grunts in surprise at how quickly he came. 

The rest of the night is spent exchanging loving kisses and caresses. Taking care of each other as best as you can. 

When you wake up you still can’t really move your legs. Nick is still sleeping and you opt to let him stay that way. He has a lot of healing to do and you’re not really sure last night was actually good for his injuries. You struggle to get yourself put together enough to make breakfast, smiling as you remember what led to you having such rubbery legs. 

Putting some bagels in the toaster you grab your phone to read as you wait. Your jaw drops at the number of notifications. Going through all the messages from friends, family and coworkers you start piecing things together. 

Clark Kent’s rampage went viral. You had been clearly identified as a potential victim and many people were checking in to make sure you were okay, clearly upset when you didn’t respond right away. There were even some texts from your sister asking if you had the means to sue him. No doubt she just wanted to cash in on you getting some kind of settlement so you deleted those messages. 

There was also an email from Teach. You opened it quickly, afraid that your protection had been rescinded for overstepping. Instead, she offered you access to the Family’s lawyer. Not only for the attempted assault but, according to trustworthy witnesses and security footage, Mr. Kent had clearly implied that he’d been stalking you. This was clearly referencing his comment about seeing your pay stubs. 

Looking over some of the news coverage it was clear Clark Kent had finally taken a hit and he didn’t know how to respond. Stock prices in his companies plummeted as soon as photos of him in handcuffs surfaced. While he had made bail, it looked like he’d decided to lock himself up in one of his penthouses, refusing all interviews and public appearances. He even took his social media presence private for now.

You’re startled out of your reading by Nick’s gentle caress on your cheek. The two of you talk over everything as you make up a small breakfast.

“You’re really something else, you know that,” he asks. “I work for years trying to even make a dent into this guy’s reputation and in just a few weeks you’ve obliterated it.”

“I’m sure it’ll be old news before long,” you shake your head. “And he’ll be back on top in no time.”

“Yeah, but it’ll never be the same,” he retorts with a smile. “You’ve changed a lot of people’s minds about him and I’ll always be grateful to you for that.”

“Do you think he’ll retaliate somehow?”

“Possibly,” Nick’s smile drops. “Probably. But with both a police and public record, it’ll be a lot more difficult for him to make any move against you.”

“So you’ll probably have to go back to your actual work,” you comment. “I won’t have my guard dog around as much.” You look at the puppy dog plushie Nick had gotten you for your first gift. 

“You’re still my priority,” he asserts. “I will never change my mind about that.”

The rest of the morning is spent talking about what comes next. You’ve never felt more hopeful about the future. 

Part 8

Series Masterlist

Tag List:

@alicedopey

@icefrozendeadlyqueen

@jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory

@rebekahdawkins

@terry2227

@texmexdarling

[thewayofthemandalorian]

all’s faire - chapter five

Pairing: Modern!Pero Tovar x F!Reader

Series rating: M

Chapter rating: M

Word count: 4,988

Notes: It’s the moment we’ve all been waiting for! We’re really in it now and I’m so excited. Big thank you to everyone who’s left such lovely and enthusiastic feedback on the first four chapters. Beta-read as always by the lovely and wonderful @ezrasbirdie​​. Thank you to Birdie as well as @lowlights​​ for being the main cheerleaders of this fic.

This fic is cross-posted to AO3 under the same name and my taglist can be found linked in my bio as well as my masterlist which is linked below. 

Comments/reblogs appreciated.

Chapter warnings: Swearing, food mention, alcohol mention, enemies to lovers, fake dating/marriage, yearning, kissing.

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No one stays too late at Nick’s, since bright and early you all have to be back in costume and in character for Faire. 

Sarah notices your disappointment. “He’s just introverted,” she says as she slips her purse across her body. 

“Huh?” You aren’t sure what she’s referring to. 

“Pero. He’s always so worn out after days at Faire. He needs to recharge at the end of every day. But this year he seems to have more energy.” She gives you a meaningful look that you very nearly squirm under. 

Shrugging, you say, “You know him better than I do.” 

But Sarah isn’t so sure. “That may be true, but you are spending a lot of time with him. Even if it is in character, it’s not really in character in Faire. Most of our Faire characters are just an extension of us, if that makes any sense.”

It does make sense. But you’ve never thought of it like that before. “He doesn’t even like me,” you try arguing. “At least not out of character.” 

Sarah’s not convinced, you can tell. “I’m not gonna push anything,” she says and you appreciate that. “But I will say that I’ve never seen him look at anyone with anything other than… well, you’ve seen his resting face. Except for William, but William was the only one who saw through his bluster.” You’ve reached the parking lot by now. Sarah gets her keys from her purse and clicks her keyfob. “I guess what I’m saying is you won’t know him unless you try. He’s a bit like a clam. Shut tight, but once you get it open, inside is a pearl.”

It’s not harsh. Quite the opposite. And it’s a good analogy. “Are you sure you’re a file clerk and not secretly an author?” you ask. 

She grins. “I’m a woman of many talents.” 

The night air is still and warm. The sky is streaked with bursts of orange and pink and purple. It’s going to be another hot day tomorrow. 

Sarah reaches out, squeezes your arm. “Don’t worry about Pero Tovar if you don’t want to. But there’s more to him than meets the eye. And I think you’re starting to see that.” With that she wishes you a good night and gets into her car. 

As she drives away and you walk the short distance to your own car, you consider her words. You are getting to know him better. And you’re seeing beneath the facade of grumpiness and brusque shortness. You like what you see; you’re not so sure that Sarah’s correct about him liking you, though. 

Who knew such a grumpy, brusque man is such an enigma? 

You drive home on autopilot. It’s not too late when you pull into the driveway of Tess’s house. She’s still up when you get in. “You’re home early,” she says when you come into the living room. Pausing her movie, Tess turns to look at you. 

“Yeah, we have an early morning tomorrow. It never runs that late.” 

Your mind is elsewhere, still mulling over Sarah’s words. Tess picks up on your rumination. “Did something happen?” Protective big sister mode is still a thing even when you’re both fully grown women. 

Shaking your head, you say, “No. Not really.” 

Tess isn’t buying it. “Come. Sit. Watch trashy rom-coms with me and tell me what’s up.” Her tone brooks no denial. 

Even though all you want to do is go to bed and sleep, you slump down on the couch next to your older sister. She props her leg up on the sofa table again. “Spill, sister.”

One of the many things you love about Tess is that she is very pragmatic. She’s also not as objective to Pero Tovar as Sarah is. Apart from meeting him a few times here and there, she doesn’t know him that well. “It’s not anything really that new. But Pero’s being really nice to me? And he’s asking me if it’s okay to kiss me when we’re in character. And I don’t know, maybe I like him. Maybe,” you point your finger as Tess’s face changes from a serious, listening expression to one of a smug “I knew it!” one. “And I guess I just figured out that I don’t dislike him as much as I thought I did when he didn’t show up at Nick’s and I was… I don’t know, disappointed?” 

Tess nods sagely. “He’s a tough nut to crack.” She sighs in thought. “Well, do you like him, like him? Or just like him?” 

You scoff. “That isn’t a confusing question at all.” 

“You know what I mean.” 

You do know what she means. “I don’t know. I just know that he’s confusing and grumpy and surly. But he’s also considerate and caring and always makes sure it’s okay to kiss me in character.” 

Tess exhales. By the sounds of it to her, you’ve got it bad. She can’t be the one to tell you that, she knows that you have to work this out on your own. “I’m not going to tell you what to do. I’m not Mom.” The two of you share a look and giggle. “What I am going to say is that I think you should do what feels right.” 

- - - - 

Armed with a good night’s sleep and Tess and Sarah’s words of wisdom, you arrive at Faire earlier than usual, Cassie in tow, ready for another day. 

Since you’re so early, you have a better parking selection. You park next to a silver car that’s also just parked, not noticing who is getting out of the driver’s side until you hear Cassie. “Oh, look, it's Mr. Tovar.”

It’s who now? 

“Good morning, Cassandra,” Pero is saying to Cassie as you finally get your bearings and get out of the car. Your dress isn’t laced. Pero greets you. 

“Morning,” you reply, trying to notice how he looks at you. Sarah had said that he doesn’t look at anyone else like he looks at you. He doesn’t look any different to you; his costume is immaculate, not a thread out of place. Cassie excuses herself and runs off to find her friends. 

“Do you need help with your laces?” he offers.

You’re stunned. “I — Sure, please. If you don’t mind.” 

Pero makes a grunting sound and gestures for you to turn around so he can start lacing you up. 

“You weren’t at Nick’s,” you blurt out, cringing inwardly as soon as the words have left your mouth. “Last night.” You had promised yourself that you weren’t going to ask about that. But here you are, first thing out of your mouth. Turning your head, you look at him expectantly, even though he owes you nothing, not even an explanation. You’re not together. You’re not anything to him.

Pero frowns quizzically.  “No, I wasn’t. I didn’t know I was expected.”

You shake your head. “I just thought… when Sarah said everyone was going, I assumed…” 

His expression changes. A smirk twitches at his lips. “Are you saying you are disappointed, bonita?” 

You miss his look of panic, a flash in his eyes, at his choice of words. “N-no. It’s like I said… I just thought that you would be there.” 

Pero nods. “Perhaps next weekend.” He’s surprisingly an expert on lacing up a corset. You tell yourself not to think too much about that and how he knows how to do this so well.

“For my birthday,” you say without thinking. 

He pauses in his lacing. “It is your birthday next weekend?” he asks. 

You nod. “A week today.” 

He makes a humming sound, filing the information in his mind, and resumes in his lacing. He doesn’t lace them too tight like you expect him to. You can actually mostly breathe properly but the dress still doesn’t look unshapely or loose. If you pay close enough attention, you can feel his breath on your neck as he ties the lacings together with a tight knot. “There. Done.” 

You turn back around to face him. There’s a glint of something in his eyes. Something… soft. That you hadn’t noticed before. “Thank you,” you say. 

“You’re welcome… florecita. A Captain must see to the needs of his intended.” You turn your face away to hide your sigh and slightly crestfallen expression. This had been done in character. Of course it had.  

Maybe this is a sign. He doesn’t want you as Pero. Only Captain Bastian wants you. And it’s not even you that Pero-as-Captain Bastian wants. It’s your character.

He glances at you sidelong, taking note of your almost-deflated countenance. If he sees your confusion and disappointment, he doesn’t say anything. He holds out an arm. “Shall we?” he asks. 

Does he know that he’s leading you on? Or is it unintentional? All the same, you loop your arm through his, plastering what you hope is a mostly real smile on your face. “We shall.” 

Sarah’s been doing this for longer than you have. Maybe she was wrong when she said that Faire characters are extensions of you. If they are for you and her, it isn’t for Pero Tovar.

- - - - 

You’re distracted during Faire on Sunday; your mind keeps going back to your interaction with Pero in the parking lot. You might like him, but he’s made no indication that he likes you. At least none that you can decipher. Still, when he comes into the tavern, when he brings you to the dueling grounds, when he kisses you, all in character, you play along. It’s lackluster compared to yesterday’s performance, just you going through the motions, even if it sets your heart pounding and your nerve endings aflame. You like him. You can admit that to yourself. But you can also admit to yourself that he doesn’t like you. If he does, why hasn’t he done anything about it yet?

This was supposed to be fun. 

It isn’t that you’re not having fun. You are, when you’re hanging out with Sarah, who’s become a real friend. And there is some fun to be had when Pero isn’t giving you mixed signals. 

You slip out of Faire after saying goodnight to Lin-Mae and Sarah, lingering a lot longer than you expect. Cassie’s spending the night at a friend’s house, already on her way there. 

Pero’s just arriving at his own car when you reach the makeshift parking lot. Shit. You’d been hoping that you would be able to avoid him. 

Sarah hadn’t unlaced your dress this evening; it is still laced up. You’re banking on Tess to unlace it when you get home. “Do you need help getting out of that?” he asks. 

“Captain,” you force your voice to be scandalized. “We are not yet wed, are you sure that is prudent?” 

Pero makes a face that you can’t read. “I am asking as Pero. Not Captain Bastian.” 

Oh. Your face flames with heat. “Oh. Right. Um… I’m sure you want to get home. Clementine is probably wondering where you are.” 

He grumbles something that you can’t hear. “Clementine doesn’t care. It is no trouble.” 

Forcing back a sigh — you just want to go home and have a long shower or maybe a bath and a big glass of something — you nod. “Sure. Thanks.” 

You turn around so that he can begin unlacing. Even if it’s not in character, it feels oddly intimate, even if no clothes are actually being removed. Pero’s clearly found a place to change since he’s wearing a faded burnt orange t-shirt and some shorts. His Faire costume must be in the gym bag that’s sitting on the ground next to his car. “You were distracted today,” he says as he begins working on the knot. 

“Was I?” You play coy. You’d thought you did a good job hiding your distraction. “Just tired, I guess. Late night last night.” 

Your attempts at being blase don’t hit the mark. Pero gets the knot untied at last. “You know we can stop this if you like, right? I’m not forcing you to do anything you don’t want to do.” 

He’s frustrating sometimes. “Mr. Tovar, I’ve told you once before, I have no issue with it. I’m fine with continuing this storyline as long as you are. It’s only acting, right? Not real.” 

Pero swallows. “That’s correct.” He gets closer to you to unlace the corset holding everything together. He’s in your personal space again and you think back to your thought of only a minute ago. It is intimate. You can’t help but think what this would be like if you were actually in a relationship with him. What it would be like if he was unlacing you for a different reason than for the sake of comfort and ease. “And please, I am no longer Cassandra’s teacher. You’ve kissed me … in character, that is, many times now. And I’m currently untying your corset. I think you can call me Pero.” 

You shouldn’t be startled. But you are. And then you say, “Do you make a habit of lacing and unlacing wenches’ corsets, Pero?” Embarrassment snakes its way around you as soon as the words have left your mouth. Why did you choose now of all times to attempt flirting with him? 

Pero, to his credit, responds to it with a quip of his own. “I like to be prepared.” Due to his proximity, the words are spoken almost into your ear. Like he’s speaking to a lover instead of someone he just kind of tolerates. It sends tingles down your spine. Or maybe that’s from the fact that you can breathe properly again. Seriously, how did women do this on a daily basis for so long? Neither of you notice Sarah coming towards the parking lot, seeing what’s happening with a grin, and turning around to give you some privacy. 

The last lace comes loose and you’re standing there, swimming in the fabric. “There.” But even without the corset, you find that breath is not easy coming to you when you turn to look at Pero. His burning gaze. There’s something there. Something so frustratingly, deceptively simple. His gaze flicks from eyes to lower on your face for a quarter of a second. 

“Thank you.” You have no idea what your own face is doing, but the burning gaze remains on Pero’s. You wish him a good night and that you’ll see him next weekend. But he stops you before you can get in the car. 

“You’d tell me… if you were uncomfortable with anything, right?” And there’s that deceptively simple look in his eyes again. 

If asked a few weeks ago, you’d probably be inclined to say no, you don’t think you would tell him. You were more likely to tell Sarah or Lin-Mae if something was making you uncomfortable. But there’s something in Pero’s gaze now that tells you that you could tell him if anything is making you feel discomfort. 

“Yeah, Pero,” you say. “I’d tell you.” 

His gaze lingers on you for a long second and then he wishes you goodnight. 

- - - - 

On Wednesday afternoon Pero’s order is delivered to the store. It’s slow and you’re the only one here since Lin-Mae is at a dentist appointment. You felt a stab of pride when she said that she trusts you know how to run the store without her. A sense of accomplishment and a job well done. 

You pull up the order information that has Pero’s contact information, vaguely remembering his phone number from the information sheet that was handed out on the first day of Faire. You twist your makeshift necklace. You’d lost the chain in your relocation, but you didn’t have time to find it or get a new one. So when you felt the need to wear it this morning, you grabbed the first thing you saw that would work — the handfasting twine. 

Punching his number into the store phone, you hope that it goes to voicemail. You’re still feeling the tiniest bit awkward about Sunday. About your ill-advised flirting and the way that you had completely misread the entire situation. You like to think that you’re good at reading people. But with him? It’s like attempting to read a book that’s seventy-five percent blank. 

You realize that he’s answered while you were lost in thought. “Hello?” he repeats. 

“Pero, hi! Sorry.” You say who it is. “Just calling to say that your books came in and are ready to be picked up and paid for whenever you’re ready.”

Still feeling embarrassed, you secretly hope that he comes in tomorrow when both you and Lin-Mae are here and that she can deal with him. But he has other thoughts. “Excellent. I’ll be there soon,” he says without so much as a goodbye. 

Your heart is hammering, thundering in your chest cavity. “Shut up,” you say to it.

Approximately fifteen minutes come and go before the bells over the door jingle. Hope of who it is, wars in you; part of you hopes it’s Pero, another part of you hopes it’s a customer. You feel like you’re in high school, a girl with her first real crush all over again. It’s bordering on ridiculous.

But it isn’t another customer. It’s the man of the hour himself, Pero Tovar. “Good afternoon,” he says.

“Good afternoon,” you reply. The box of his books is sitting on the desk. “I have your books for you.” It’s a redundant statement since you just called him not half an hour ago. 

Pero nods. “Excellent. Thank you for doing that for me.” 

Why is he being so nice to you? “Of course,” you reply. Punching in the total on the debit machine you hand it to Pero, who has his credit card at the ready. He notices your makeshift necklace, but doesn’t comment. Just smiles to himself as he reads the instructions on the machine.

“I also wondered if any of the students or their parents have come in yet to get their summer reading books.” Pero swipes his card and presses the green button. 

You shake your head. “Not many. Some, but not a lot. It is still early July. They still have time. Or they’re finding ebook copies online.” 

Pero gives his trademark quizzical frown. “That takes business away from the store.” 

The receipt prints and you snatch a pen from the mug on your desk. “Sign here?” You pass him the slip of paper and pen. “I know, you’re right,” you continue as he scribbles his name in a messy scrawl. “But like I said, they still have over a month left before school starts. I can show you the display if you like?” 

Picking up his box of books, Pero follows you to the display. You feel his eyes on your back the entire time. Fixing his gaze on the display of summer reading books he nods. “No, that looks about right. I guess I keep hoping that this year will be the year that students get ahead with their reading.”

“They’re teenagers. They don’t really think ahead,” you offer, remembering how you and Tess were as teenagers. 

Pero nods, possibly remembering his own time as a teenager. Or maybe what William was like as a teenager. “Cassandra thinks ahead,” he says suddenly. 

You smile. “Well, Cassie’s an exception to the rule. I know my mentality as a teenager was that the sooner I read my summer reading list to the start of school, the more I would remember when it actually started again.”

He’s quiet a long moment. That indecipherable look in his eyes again. He says your name and you look up from where you’re staring at the carpet. “I was wondering…” 

But whatever he was wondering has to wait because before he can finish his sentence, the bells jingle. “Hello in there!” It’s Sarah.

“Back here!” you call back before returning your attention to Pero. “What were you going to say?” 

“It’s nothing.” He shakes his head, something like disappointment in his face for such a fleeting second you half-wonder if you imagine it before he says goodbye. 

What the fuck was that about? 

Sarah pulls your attention away. “I am in desperate need of a pick me up. I told myself this morning that I was going to be fine with just the one cup of coffee that I had with breakfast. But my brain is crying. I need caffeine and a treat.” 

You smile. “I can help with that,” you say, taking her to the cafe. “What can I get you?” 

Sarah rattles off her coffee order and takes a look at the display case. “Oh, fuck it. I’ll get a lemon square too.” While you’re making her drink, she asks, “Why was Pero Tovar here?” 

Pouring her drink into a cup, you say, “Oh, he was just picking up an order.” You give her her coffee and lemon square. She takes a sip.

“Oh, that’s good.” Sarah groans in appreciation before passing over a ten-dollar bill. “Keep the change, sweets.” 

You make yourself a coffee and you and Sarah catch up on Faire gossip. “Oh, I wanted to tell you before I forget. I can’t make it to Nick’s this weekend. I’m having a birthday dinner with Tess and Cassie.” 

Sarah’s eyes widen. “It’s your birthday on Saturday?” she practically screeches. 

“On Sunday. But we all figured that it would be easier to do the celebration on Saturday. Not anything exciting but still, something nice.” 

She’s quiet for a long minute, contemplating something. “Hey, what’s your favourite kind of birthday cake?”

You’re taken aback by the question. “Um… I’m easy when it comes to cake. But gun to my head have to choose answer? Chocolate. Why?” 

Sarah plays coy. “Oh, no reason. That reminds me, actually. Em and I are having a garden party on Sunday. After Faire, of course.” 

You see right through it. Part of you wants to protest, but you’re too touched at the gesture to object. “Sounds great. I’ll be there.” 

She beams. “Of course you will.” 

- - - - 

The rest of the week passes without anything noteworthy happening. Sunday dawns warm and clear and you’re another year older. When you come downstairs, Tess is already up. “You’re up early,” you say. Usually she sleeps until at least eight. 

“I know; I’m going back to bed when you and Cassie go but I just wanted to say happy birthday.” She hugs you. 

Once you and Cassie have eaten and Tess has gone back up to bed, you’re on the road, just as the sun is rising. You hadn’t been expecting to be in a faire on your birthday a few months ago, but here you are. 

You and Cassie make your way through the thicket and are greeted by Sarah and Lin-Mae. “Happy birthday!” they both say. You smile and thank them, hoping that they haven’t told everyone; you hate being the centre of attention, even on your birthday. You do like being celebrated, though. Just in small doses. 

Linking arms with Sarah, the two of you make your way to the tavern. She talks about the garden party that is not actually a garden party. Neither of you say what it actually is: a birthday party. “Em made the cake last night and girl, when I tell you you’re going to die of a foodgasm.” 

Sarah spots the rose on the bar before you do. “What’s this?” she asks, picking it up. 

Candace shrugs. “It was already here when I got here.” 

There’s a tag attached to the rose. Sarah reads it and a mischievous grin spreads across her face. “It’s for you,” she says in a sing-song voice. 

“For me?” you echo. “Who sent it?” 

Sarah hands you the rose, which has had its thorns removed. You recognize the rose; they’re sold by one of the vendors. You lift it to your nose and smell its sweet scent before reading the tag. It has your name at the top. Happy birthday, it reads. 

You don’t recognize the handwriting. Perhaps the vendor wrote it for whoever purchased the rose? Apart from Cassie, Sarah, and Lin-Mae, who else here knows it’s your birthday?

Thinking back, you remember that you told Pero off-handedly last weekend when he laced you up that today is your birthday. But he wouldn’t remember that, let alone send you a rose. 

…would he?

Sarah takes the rose from you and strategically places it in your hair, making sure it stays in place. “Perfect. A true pirate queen.” 

You sputter. “I’m not — I’m just a tavern wench.” 

If the protestation sounds weak to you, it sounds practically non-existent to Sarah, who just smirks knowingly. “Mmm-hmmm. Right. Keep telling yourself that, babe.” 

The day goes by quickly. When Pero comes in for his afternoon drink, his eyes flit to the rose in your hair, but doesn’t say anything. Just kisses your hand before stealing a proper kiss from you. A proper staged kiss, that is. Still, you’re not going to let that bother you, not on your birthday.

Once you’re done for the day, you and Cassie rush home for quick showers and to change. You opt for a backless sundress, the one that Tess had given to you as a birthday present. You replace the rose in your hair, liking the way it looks. And then you, Tess and Cassie pile into her car and head over to Sarah’s not-garden party.

People have already arrived when you show up. “Welcome! So glad you could make it!” Sarah greets the three of you. Cassie immediately finds some of her friends as Emily comes over. She’s petite, wears glasses and has dark, mouse-brown hair and a nose-ring. “I can’t believe you two haven’t met yet.” You and Emily make introductions and she wishes you a happy birthday.

“Thanks so much for doing this,” you say. “You really didn’t have to.”

Sarah and Emily wave away your protests. “Nonsense. We wanted to,” says Emily. “Any friend of Sarah’s is a friend of mine.” 

Out of the corner of your eye you notice that Tess is chatting with Will Ballard. You didn’t know that they knew each other so well.

“Grab some food. Help yourself, birthday girl. Can I get you something to drink?” asks Sarah, who follows your gaze. “Oh. Yeah. It’s nice that they get along so well; it makes me wonder why they never go for it, you know?” You can’t help but wonder if she is also talking about you and Pero. “Sure, please,” you say instead. 

Sarah grabs you a glass of punch and you start perusing the food options, taking a little bit of everything. People passing you by wish you a happy birthday and you thank them.

You mingle with your friends from Faire before your eyes find Pero. He’s standing under the maple tree. He’s wearing the green shirt again. The one that you love on him. 

Excusing yourself from the discussion you’re having with Dan and Lin-Mae— though really, the two of them are carrying the conversation just fine on their own— you meander over to the maple tree. “Happy birthday,” he greets you as you’re coming within earshot, his eyes flitting to the rose that’s still in your hair. 

You’re stunned that he remembers. “T-thank you,” you manage to get out, your sandal catching on a root as you make your way closer to him. 

You’re convinced that you’re going to trip when Pero’s hands come out and steady you at your shoulders. Despite the warmth of his callused hands, a chill runs through you. “Easy there, bonita. Can’t have you having accidents on your birthday.” 

Your laugh is breathless, more an exhalation of air than an actual laugh. “Thank you.” 

Pero lifts a hand to fix the rose in your hair. “You’re still wearing it. I am so glad you —” He cuts himself off as he realizes what he was about to say. 

“You were the one who gave it to me,” you realize. Pero doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to. “Why?” you ask bravely as he rests his hand on your shoulder again. 

“Why what?” he asks. 

You swallow your nerves. “Why send me a rose? Why are you being so nice to me? I thought —”

Pero says your name hoarsely, half a prayer, half a lamentation. It catches your attention and you are finally able to pinpoint what the look in his eyes is that you’ve had such trouble identifying. “Don’t you know?” he breathes. 

Before you can ask “Know what?” his mouth is on yours. Pero is kissing you. Not as Captain Bastian kissing you as your tavern maid for a bit. But Pero. Kissing you. Because he wants to.

It’s different from your in character kisses at faire. While those are mostly chaste but confident, this one is explorative yet tentative, like he’s afraid that this is all just a dream that he doesn’t want to wake from. 

It takes you a minute for your brain to catch up with your body, just as he’s pulling back. He says your name again. “I’ve overstepped,” he says when he finally notices that you weren’t kissing him back right away, mistaking your shock for hesitation and reluctance. “I’m sorry, I’ll take my leave —” 

No. “Wait,” you implore, and lean up on your toes to kiss him, properly this time. And Pero wastes no time in responding. Gathering you against him, moving his mouth against yours, his hands roaming across your bare back (retroactively you thank yourself for choosing this sundress) as yours reach up to his shoulders, gripping his shirt like a lifeline.

When the kiss reaches its natural conclusion, you’re greedy. “More,” you gasp against his lips, drunk on his kisses.

Yeah, all in all, great garden party, you think to tell Sarah later. Much, much later. For right now though, more kissing.

--- taglist in reblog

[ladylooch]

Letters in Your Last Name - Chapter 9

Visit the series page here.

A/N: Today is a special day!!!! Happy birthday to our main squeeze Kev! Hope you have the bestest day and get your princess cake 🥳

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: SMUT 18+ Content, swearing

Seven weeks later, Kevin is finally in town long enough to make my move in complete.

In the seven weeks since our blow up, we’ve experienced an obvious glow up- both on and off the ice. Kevin has completely transformed his game. He’s quite literally exploded on the ice and now leads the team in goals, assists and points in the last 15 games. Watching him on the ice with so much confidence and steadiness is breathtaking. He’s turned the corner and shows no signs of slowing down. With his point production, his recognition around town has increase as well. We can’t run into Target for a few things without him stopping to hand out autographs or pictures. The people of Minnesota have latched onto him and his excitement of the transition is palpable.

As for our relationship and off the ice, things just keep getting better. I’m standing at the kitchen counter in what is now our apartment and my mind wanders to last night. He returned from a three game road trip in the late hours of the night. My thoughts are consumed with Kevin’s hands, his mouth, his hips, the obsessive pleasure. The neediness of our hips pressing into each other. From the moment he entered the apartment to when he finally drifted to sleep, his lips never left my body.

“This should be the last of it.” My oldest brother, Nick, says as he enters our apartment with another U-Haul box. I jump in surprise and suck in a quick breath to clear my mind.

“Wow, you guys made quick work of that.” I applaud him, Alex, and Kevin who trail in after him. “It pays to know professional athletes.” I smirk at the two in the room. “And some dude who runs a CrossFit gym.”

“Thanks.” Nick rolls his eyes at my CrossFit comment. “I gotta go. Kids have swimming lessons.” He gives me a quick hug, Kevin and Alex a fist bump, before he jogs out of our apartment.

“I’ve gotta head out too. Enjoy unpacking.” Alex says, saluting us both.

“Welcome home.” Kevin murmurs as he gathers me into his arms. I smile and kiss his cutely puckered lips. “I’ve got your permanent key and door fob here.” He reaches behind me into the bowl, holding them up. They are connected to each other by a keychain that says I heart Kevin.

“Oh awkward… Gonna have to replace this.” I hold the keychain up jokingly.

“Hey now. You love me.” He insists, giving my sides a firm squeeze. I squeak in response and rush out of his grasp, giving him a sour look. He laughs lightly and looks at the boxes in the living room. “This should give you something to do when I’m on the road again at the end of the week.”

“Yeah, I didn’t realize how much stuff I had.” I scratch my head. “I’m not sure if there is enough space for all this.”

“I’m sure there is. If not, we can move to a different unit.” He shrugs as if that’s no big deal.

I’ve never lived in an apartment before. When I moved in with Alex, it was from my parents’ house. Although it would have been ideal to live on campus during college, I choose not to in order to save some money. I have no concept of leases or how much trouble it would be to change units within the same building. Kevin’s place has an awesome view of Minneapolis though. It would be tough to give that up even for something bigger.

“Oh, when is rent due?” I wonder as he unpacks a few things I stuffed into my purse as we were rushing out of Alex’s home earlier.

“The 1st.” Kevin says as he gathers up things for the bathroom and begins heading down the hall.

“How much do I pay?” I call to him. This is probably something I should have asked earlier, but the concept didn’t connect with me in our pre-move bliss.

“Nothing.” Kevin replies as he walks back into the kitchen.

“Um.. I can pay rent?” I inform him. “Alex pays me to watch the kids.”

“You’re not paying rent.” He shakes his head at me.

“Why not?”

“Because I make millions of dollars.” He laughs. His smile quickly fades when he sees the annoyed look on my face. “I’m not trying to insult you. It’s just ridiculous for you to pay rent when I make so much more than you.” My eyes squint and he grimaces. “That came out wrong.”

“Kevin Fiala, I’m not looking for a free ride as your arm candy.” I cross my arms over my chest and pop my hip out, daring him to question me.

“I don’t think you are.” He holds his hands up in surrender. “I just want to take care of you.”

“I don’t need you to.” I snap. He drops his gaze and looks uncomfortably in the other direction. When he looks back, his eyes are cautious. “I want to pay half.” I insist. Kevin purses his lips and nods.

“Okay.” He tells me, grabbing a pen and paper from the drawer in the island. He writes a number on it and flips the notepad closer to me. I reach for it but not before setting him in his place with my eyes again.

“Okay…Maybe a fourth.” I say, eyes widening at the amount. My mouth forms a grimace and I meet his gaze.

“Just let me pay the rent. You can buy food.” He reaches for the pad of paper from me, throwing it on the counter.

“This is ridiculous. I can pay for more than just-” Kevin grabs my face with his hand and smashes our lips together. The kiss is meant to silence me and damn does it work. His tongue devours me while his hands squeeze me to him tightly.

“Stop arguing with me and just nod your head. I know you’re not with me for the money. I know you don’t need me to take care of you. I want to.”

“Alright.” I nod my head. He kisses my swollen lips again before walking around me.

“And I’m taking you to a nice, expensive restaurant tonight. I’m going to pay for that too and you’re going to like it.” He insists, reaching for one of the boxes marked “closet”.

“Okay.” I say again, a smile twisting my lips.

“And we are going to unpack your clothes to find that little black dress that drives me crazy. You’re going to wear it. We’re going to fool around under the table. And when we get back here tonight, I’m going to touch you in all my favorite places.” He has started to walk slowly back across the living room to me.

“Anything else?” I whisper as he closes in on me.

“Yes. I love you.”

“I love you too.” I murmur just before his lips crash against mine.

_ _ _

Later that night, Kevin holds the door open for me as I walk into Mucci’s. It’s a quaint and rustic Italian restaurant in the Uptown neighborhood of Minneapolis. I’ve heard plenty of good things and judging by the smell, the people are right. Kevin and I did find the little black dress and I wore it just for him. If he keeps his word from earlier, he’ll be pleasantly surprised by the lack of underwear beneath. I paired the dress with black heels and my furry North Face Jacket. Kevin is wearing dark jeans and a black dress shirt with sleeves rolled up his forearms. I’m cold because it’s December and my legs are exposed, but it’s worth it to tease my boyfriend. Plus, I have a feeling he’ll be happy to warm me up later.

The host recognizes Kevin immediately and takes us to a booth set for two. I thank the man as he hands me a menu, glancing around the completely full restaurant. I notice a few tables looking in our direction and whispering. It seems anywhere we go recently, whispers and looks follow us. It’s taken some getting used to for me, but Kevin seems unfazed.

“Welcome!” Our waitress says brightly as she approaches our table. She looks at me, then does a double take when she glances in Kevin’s direction. “Can I bring you something to drink?” I can’t tell if she recognizes him or just finds him insanely attractive. Can’t say I really blame her either way. He looks damn fine tonight.

“I’ll have a glass of Prosecco.” I answer. Kevin orders the same and the waitress scurries off to grab our drinks.

“It smells amazing in here.” I tell Kevin, glancing down at the menu.

“It’s as good as it smells. They catered a pre-game meal for us late last year.” Kevin informs me.

“You might have to roll me out of here.” I laugh looking at the abundance of pastas and bread dishes. I love a good carb.

“Gladly.” He says.

The waitress returns with our drinks, lazily setting mine in front of me before strategically and slowly placing Kevin’s in front of him. She lingers for a moment and I realize that her shirt is definitely unbuttoned more than it was when she first came over. My lips purse in slight annoyance and amusement as she begins to rattle off the specials for the night, only at Kevin. Not once does she look over in my direction. Kevin murmurs a thanks to her and looks over at me with an awkward laugh when she disappears.

“Guess you’re not here.” He jokes and I giggle in response.

“You’re definitely the better looking one in this couple.” I take a sip of my Prosecco and wiggle my eyebrows at him.

“I disagree.” He shakes his head. His brown eyes are soft and bright with the low lighting in the restaurant. I feel light headed at the look he is giving at me. I blush and drop my gaze back to the menu. Even after months of being together, I still get overwhelmed by his attention. “Come sit by me.” Kevin tells me, moving further into his side of the booth.

“No, we are not that couple.” I snort at him.

“Why not? I am completely obsessed with you, so get over here.”

“No!” I laugh nervously at him. He continues to stare at me expectantly. “You’re going to get handsy.”

“Absolutely. Now. Get. Over. Here.” I slide out of the booth with resignation and cozy up next to him. He wraps an arm around me and pulls me tighter to his side. When I turn my face to look at him, he captures my lips in his. It’s a hot kiss that makes me sigh in response. “I can’t wait to fuck you later.” He whispers. I cringe and glance outside of the booth, wondering if anyone heard him. When I turn back to him, his eyes are black as they devour my breasts.

“Kevin.. keep it together.” I give his shoulder a nudge with mine and look back at the menu. “People know who you are here. They’ll talk if you keep this up.”

“Let them. They can get on Twitter and talk about how hot my girlfriend is.”

“People don’t even know we are together.” I roll my eyes at him. “They probably think I’m a puck bunny.” I’m joking, but Kevin doesn’t seem to like that comment.

My social media pages have been private since before we started dating. Every now and then, I get requests from people looking for pictures of my brother or his teammates. It felt safer to keep my circle tight and not having to perform on social media to any expectation. Kevin only does Instagram these days. His profile is public, but he doesn’t post much and when he does it’s focused on hockey. He’s never posted anything directly mentioning me, just pictures of coffee or food that we have eaten together.

“We better tell them.” He says to me, “Come closer.” He insists as he pulls his phone out.

“I’m practically in your lap.” I look at him incredulously. He grabs one of my legs and drapes it between his, pulling my hip tighter to him. He holds the camera up and we smile fully. Pure happiness oozes from the picture as Kevin turns and gives me a smooch on the cheek. I laugh and shake my head at him.

“I’m posting that one.” He shows me with a satisfied grin.

“Why?”I wonder to him.

“Because I want everyone to know that you’re mine.” He reaches for my neck, pulling our lips together in another sultry kiss. His thumb strokes against my cheek and I lean my breasts into his chest in response. He’s so good at making me feel loved and wanted. “Are you okay with that?” He whispers when we pull apart.

“Yes.” I tell him, because I too want everyone to know that he is mine, starting with our waitress tonight.

“Good.” He nuzzles my nose and then goes back to his phone to post our picture. I watch over his shoulder, telling him which filter looks best. He captions the photo with “My favorite place in the world is next to you” followed by a heart emoji.

“Your favorite place is on a hockey rink.” I tease him as he posts the picture to his 67,000 followers.

“Nah. It’s where you are.” He insists with such conviction that I don’t even question him further.

We decide on splitting a couple different pastas and a pizza in order to not settle for one the other. It is a celebratory night after all! We laugh and drink and chat about potential decorating ideas we would like in the apartment. We decide we definitely want to get a newer, bigger couch and maybe a new bed too. As the night goes on, I’m getting looser with each glass of Prosecco. Kevin only had one, but has been encouraging me to keep going. I know what he’s trying to do and I don’t care. The more I have, the less I worry about his wandering hands in public.

When our dessert comes, a decadent chocolate mousse cake, Kevin’s hands finally slide high enough up my thigh for him to receive his surprise. His head snaps back as he turns to look at me. I giggle into my bite of cake.

“We gotta go.” He insists, looking around for our waitress.

“I’m not done with my cake!” I argue to him.

“We will finish it in bed.” He nuzzles my neck with his nose.

“Patience.” I tell him.

“I have none when it comes to having you. Plus, you can’t be quiet when I touch you.” He challenges me, his fingers sliding back to where they were, then deeper until they’re dangerously close to stroking exactly where I want him. I swallow my cake and the moan building in my throat. The waitress comes back and asks if we want anything else. “The check.” Kevin’s eyes don’t leave mine as he answers. I slowly lick my lips just to drive him crazy and his eyes turn darker in response.

After he pays the bill, Kevin is shoving me insistently out of the booth, I can’t help but laugh loudly at how eager he is to get me home, which garners a few looks from the other patrons. I clasp my hand over my mouth as we run from the restaurant. Kevin places his hand on the small of my back. When we pass the windows of the restaurant to reach an empty storefront, he reaches his hand beneath my dress to grab my bare ass greedily. I squeal and tug my dress back down.

“Hey!” I yell at him, smacking his hand away.

“No one saw.” He insists to me with a smirk as we reach his car. He opens the door for me and I slide in. He jogs around to the driver’s side after shutting my door. When he’s in his seat, his hand instantly flips my dress up and slides between my legs. I grab his wrist, holding him there as he moves in a slow circle. He slides one finger to my opening, feeling how wet I am. “Fuck, baby.” He murmurs before pulling away to start his car. The engine roars to life and Kevin speeds off into the city.

At the next red light, he reaches out and tucks my hair behind my ear before placing his lips against the sensitive skin on my neck. A breathy moan escapes my lips and Kevin’s teeth scrape lightly against the dip in my collar bone.

“You trying to mark me as yours?” I whisper, slowly shoving him back into his seat as the light turns green. Our eyes meet as I dance my fingers down his chest then along his erection. The passion between us heats the car up another degree. He turns to watch the road again with a large smile on his face.

Soon, we are back at our building and holding hands as I follow Kevin down the hall to our apartment. When we walk in, Kevin throws his keys in the bowl as I shut the door. He turns to me and walks me back against the door, placing his hands on either side of my head. I bite my lip because I know exactly what’s coming.

“Mou lásku k tobě nelze vyjádřit slovy.” He says to me. “My love for you cannot be expressed in words.” I soften into the door as he leans in, placing his lips against mine briefly. He nips at my bottom lip, then down my throat to my chest, and my knees weaken in response. He kisses each swell of my breasts and I moan at the pleasure. He melts at that and lifts me into his arms. My arms easily lay against his shoulders as he carries me to our bedroom. He drops me onto our bed. I lay back on my elbows with heavy eyes, watching as he unbuttons his shirt. When he’s done, he stands there, looking at me through lowered lids.

“Come here, baby.” I call and he slowly crawls onto the bed, pushing me all the way back as he does. My hands run up his bare chest to his shoulders, pushing his open shirt down his arms. He shakes the shirt off his body, leaning on one hand as the other comes to cup my cheek.

“I meant what I said, Sam. Chci, aby svět věděl, že jsi můj.” His lips press to mine firmly. “I want the world to know you’re mine.” As if to prove his point, he again nibbles on my neck.

I think of the picture on Instagram now for said world to see. His lips on my cheek. My huge smile. Our shining eyes. The caption that still makes my heart swoon as I remember it now.

“Being yours is my favorite thing, Kev.”

“You’ll always be mine?” He wonders to me, pulling my dress down to expose my hard nipples to him.

“You tell me.” I gasp as his fingers slide over the aching tips of my breasts.

Kevin never responds with words.

Instead, he makes love to me until the rest of the world fades away.

[onceuponastory]

normal - steve kemp x reader: ending v2

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Steve Kemp x Female!Reader Chapter Warnings: As always, 18+ ONLY PLEASE. This has mentions of death, murder, cannibalism, serial killers, kidnapping, kissing without consent, restraints, manipulation, blood, and violence. And of course, Steve Kemp and Nick Fowler, because those two are warnings all on their own, let alone together. As always, if I miss any triggers, please let me know. Notes: So, as most of you know Normal ended with a happy-ish ending all things considered, but I wanted to write an alternate ending where things didn’t end so happily. Just count this as Normal, but the bad ending, hahaha. It’s set during Chapter Seven.

Steve pulls up outside the cabin. As he opens the door for her and helps her get out, Y/N glances at the building. Almost as soon as she does, she wishes she hadn’t. Steve has a creepy ass cabin in the woods beside a ‘village’ in the middle of nowhere. Because of fucking course he does. “Welcome home.” Steve grins. He opens the front door, and the sound of it creaking echoes around the entire forest. Y/N gulps. If there’s anywhere she’s going to die, it’s here. But just as she wonders how quickly she can run away, Steve comes back to her and gently pulls her into his side. “Come on.” He urges. “Our new life starts here.” Warily, Y/N nods and lets Steve lead her inside. A few weeks ago, Y/N was dreaming of starting her new life with Steve. Yet now she’s here, it’s turning into more of a nightmare. “I know it doesn’t look the best, but I promise it’s only temporary, and we’ll be out of here when everything blows over.” He explains, locking the front door behind him. Y/N gulps. Something about Steve is off. Of course, the fact he’s just kidnapped her is a big red flag in itself, but there’s something else that doesn’t seem right. Maybe it’s the way he keeps staring at her, grinning. And how this time, he’s free to do whatever he wants to her.

Once they’re inside the cabin, things don’t look much better. The whole place is dusty, and there’s a weird, damp smell everywhere. When Y/N used to think of how and when she would die, this was not how she thought it would happen. And she definitely did not expect Steve Kemp to be beside her…or the one to do it. But if there’s anything Y/N’s learned from her time with Steve, it’s that life likes to surprise you. 

Steve leads her into the living room, and he places her down on a chair. “Just so you don’t try to run.” He tells her, binding her wrists to the arms of the chair with rope. He stands over her, staring down at her as she warily keeps her eyes on him. All Y/N can think of is the things he’s done to all those women, and that he’s about to do them to her. Foolishly, she trusted him and thought she was safe, even after everything he’s done. Now, she’s going to die alone and far from home. And it’s all her fault. “God, I’m so glad you’re here.” Steve kneels down, tracing a finger along her jaw. The sensation of him touching her after everything that’s happened is too much for Y/N, and she bursts into tears.

“Steve…please don’t hurt me.” She whimpers. “Please just let me go.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you.” He whispers. Y/N still doesn’t believe him. “Now, you just sit there, alright? I’ll be back soon.” He promises, before leaving the room and disappearing out of view. 

And with that, Y/N is left alone and frightened. She keeps a wary eye fixed on the door in case Steve comes back, brandishing a knife or some other way to hurt her. Some time later, maybe two hours or even longer, Y/N hears the doorknob twisting. Immediately, her blood runs cold. What will happen to her now? Yet, when the door opens, another voice sounds.

“CIA! Hands in the air where I can see them.”

“Nick!” Y/N gasps, relief flooding her body. Even though their last time spent together ended on unhappy terms to say the least, Nick still came here to save her. He really must care for her. Even if it’s only a little. But Y/N doesn’t care about their past now. She’s going to get out of here. She’s going to be okay. “Please, help me! I’m in here!” Nick soon rounds the corner. As soon as he sees her, his eyes widen.

“Y/N?” He gasps, and she nods, already feeling herself beginning to cry. At least this nightmare is finally over now, and she’ll be alright.

“Nick, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said. You were right, Steve’s insane. He must have tricked me, a-and manipulated me. He’s not who I thought he was.”

“Where is he? Is he here?” Y/N shakes her head.

“I don’t know where he went, but fuck, am I glad to see you.” Nick steps closer, but strangely, instead of coming to release her, he simply stays where he is, his blue eyes looking over her carefully. “Nick. Please, can you take these off?” Silence. Frowning, Y/N asks again. “Take these off, please.” Still nothing. Y/N’s heart rate picks up. Her gut is still telling her that something’s not right here. Yet, Nick is still her only hope of getting out here, so she asks again. When he continues not to answer her, her sense of dread only grows. “Nick! I said I was sorry! Please, just take these off!” She begs, big tears flowing down her cheeks. Again, Nick only smirks at her. When he does finally open his mouth, the words that leave it are the last thing she expects, or wants, to hear.

“I think it’s time we put her out of her misery, don’t you?” Without another word, Steve steps out of the shadows, coming to stand beside Nick. Her mind and heart racing, Y/N stares at them both, too perplexed and terrified to even say anything. Steve chuckles.

“See what I mean? She looks beautiful when she’s terrified, doesn’t she? Like a deer in the headlights.” He muses, and Nick nods with his own smirk. As she watches both men, the only two Y/N thought she truly loved, leer at her, the unsettling feeling in Y/N’s stomach multiplies, becoming all-consuming.

“What’s going on? Guys, this isn’t funny. Let me go, now.” She orders. Nick and Steve simply laugh, sending another chill up her body.

“Sorry, my beautiful Y/N…but we can’t do that.” Steve shrugs. “I do think it’s only fair that we tell the truth, though…even though you’re gonna freak out. Remember when I told Nick it was just like old times, and that I won?” She nods. “Well, that may have been a slight white lie. Back when I was out of prison and working on my business, Nick was just starting out in the CIA, and they sent him to go undercover in the same cannibalistic networks I operated in. It just didn’t work out how they thought it would.” He chuckles.

“What he means is…I met Steve, and realised we have very similar tastes.” Nick winks, pointedly licking his lips as he looks at her. Y/N’s blood runs cold. She’s trapped here with two cannibals. There’s no way she’s making it out of here alive. “Steve graciously taught me everything he knows, and I became his protégé, working with him to learn the trade.” Laughing at Y/N’s horrified face, Steve continues the explanation.

“Thankfully, Nick’s job at the CIA meant we could work together with no risk of being caught, even after his undercover mission ended. When I got arrested, we thought things would grind to a halt, but Nick picked up the business. And I mean every part of it.” Nick smiles proudly. “He has his own MO and everything. From what I’ve heard, he especially has a passion for biting.” Steve looks at her neck with a smirk. “And for dumping the body parts.” As both men stare at her, smirking, the realisation dawns on Y/N.

“It was you?” She asks. “This whole time, we’ve been tracking you, Nick?” Despite how horrified and betrayed she feels, everything makes sense now. Why Nick wanted her off the case, and why they both manipulated her. Even why she’s here now. She knows too much.

“Trying to track him, actually. You never really managed though, did you, Y/N? And that’s because we were always one step ahead of you. You’d come work with me, then I’d tell Nick everything, and he’d make the evidence disappear.” Steve comes closer, kneeling down in front of her. “But you just wouldn’t stop looking, would you? Even when I tried to scare you away. So, we took matters into our own hands, and Nick joined the case, pulling you further and further away from me until we took you off the case out of nowhere. When that didn’t work in shutting you up, we planned this: I’d turn up the flirting and make you think I was in love with you, so you’d come back to me. Then, we’d escape and take you here so we could both deal with you. The plucky profiler, out of her depth and trying to solve a case that put her in danger.” Steve smirks. “If only she knew how much danger she was in. Or knew how deep this really went.”

“You both lied to me?” Y/N mumbles. Despite her feelings of betrayal, though, deep down, she knows she only has herself to blame. Why did she let herself get sucked in too deep with Steve and Nick?

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that. You are a beautiful woman Y/N…and we’re going to have a lot of fun together, aren’t we, Nick?” Nick nods. Steve leans in close, cupping Y/N’s chin and wiping away her tears.

“Get the fuck away from me.” She orders. But since she’s tied to the chair, she can’t move anywhere. She has to fight back as best she can. Because if she doesn’t, she’s going to die. Steve presses a kiss to her lips, and angrily, Y/N bites down hard on his lip. When Steve hisses in pain, Y/N simply replies with: “I told you to get the fuck away from me.” 

“There’s no need for that, now, is there?” Nick asks. Before she can even reply, Nick strikes her hard across the face, and a sickening crunching noise fills the air. Y/N cries out in pain, and the pair grin wickedly. “You can consider that payback for what you did to me.” As blood runs down her face, the sound of the pair’s laughter fills the air once more. And it chills Y/N to her core.

“Come on Y/N, what did you expect? You trusted two cannibalistic serial killers, and look what happened. Don’t take it the wrong way, though. You are determined…just too much for your own good.” Steve tells her, getting up and walking over to the kitchen. When Y/N tries to turn her head to see what he’s doing, Nick grabs her face, harshly turning it back to him. She cries out in pain once more, and he smirks again.

“God, Steve told me how beautiful you look and sound when you’re afraid, but I had no idea it was this beautiful.” He grins.

“What are you going to do to me?” 

“Oh, don’t worry, we’re not going to kill you. Well, not right away, anyway. We’re going to sell your meat Y/N. You finally get to see what it feels like to be one of our victims.” Nick leans in close, whispering his next words: “And we finally get to taste you.” Steve comes back then, and to her horror, Y/N notices something small clutched in his hand. A syringe. Her eyes widen, and she tries to wrestle out of Nick’s grasp. 

“Get away from me!” she screams. “Someone! Please help!” Nick’s face twists into one of rage, and he lifts his hand once more. Y/N braces herself for another hit, but before it lands, Steve takes Nick’s place. 

“No, no, no. Shhh….” He whispers. “It’s okay. It’s just something to help you sleep.” For a moment, it’s as if he’s back to the Steve she used to know, the one who she thought loved her. “It’s okay. It’s still me. I’m still Steve.” Now, though, she knows it was only a lie. She can’t believe she fell into Steve’s trap and let herself be manipulated, especially after everything he’s done. As she whimpers and continues to try to worm her way out of Steve’s grasp, she hears him murmur: “Nobody can hear you, anyway.”

“They’ll know I’m missing.” Y/N insists as the metal of the syringe glints in the light. “They’ll probably be breaking the door down any minute now.” Of course, her words are more wishful thinking than a serious threat, but she hopes it works in prolonging the pair’s attack on her. To her horror, though, Nick and Steve simply laugh.

“Oh, the FBI and CIA? Yeah, they’re not coming for you. Nobody knows you’re here, and while I’m still on the case, they never will.” Nick replies, watching as the last of the hope leaves Y/N’s body. As she’s distracted for a moment, Steve readies the syringe, sticking it into her vein. Y/N yelps in pain for a moment, but the feeling of weakness takes over her almost immediately. God, they make these things strong.

“It’s okay, my beautiful Y/N.” She registers Steve’s voice saying. “Just go to sleep.” 

And then, it all fades to black. 

I know I said I’m not doing taglists anymore (follow @onceuponastory-library​), but for one last time: @buckysboobs, @sebastianstansqueen, @lavendercitizen, @amanda-says, @enchantedbarnes, @eclecticpatrolroadlawyer, @kristophalis, @babebr, @nerdypinupcrystal, @marve2014, @sgt-seabass, @themightyloki, @hallecarey1, @phoebethenarwhal, @lxdyred, @potato-with-hair, @chernayawidow, @gabewerk, @snugglingbucky, @late-to-the-party-81,  @abbieff, @shadow-dragonz​, @fandomblogs-stuff​, @hallecarey1​, @rach2602​, @littlemissthistle​, @booksandbenbarnes, @engie115

[queenclaudiabrown]

She'll Be Coming With Us | Chapter Two: Not In Wonderland

Chapter content warnings: censored cussing; the potentially triggering things in canon (mentions of famine, war, pestilence- you know, the usual stuff-; Rex’s tests and crapping on Lester’s back, etc.); mentions of fire; mentions of an unspecified allergic reaction; mentions of alcohol (wine, not actually drank); Lester being an arse; slight su!cide ideation (semi-joking, in response to being summoned by Lester); brief mention of bleeding/bleeding out in regards to the last warning; Claudia’s world continuing to implode

Word count: 5,264 I think

Series Masterlist

Friday, May 19th, 2006

05:30

     Claudia’s carefully-cultivated internal body clock woke her from an annoyingly dreamless sleep at half past five the following morning, even without an alarm clock.  She wasn’t a morning person by nature, but they weren’t detestable in her eyes either- she’d come to see them as a necessary evil to pursue her career in the government.

     She got up and showered, brushing her teeth and applying a professional amount of makeup naked to the male eye before dressing in yesterday’s clothes.  Glaring at her shoes in hatred, she changed the band-aids over her blisters again before reluctantly slipping her feet back into her regulation nylons and then into those confounded shoes.

     She packed up what little she had with her and tidied the bed, but left her bag in the room when she went downstairs.  At the bar, she ordered an English breakfast, deciding she’d probably need the protein-rich classic to get through the day. 

     The others all came downstairs before she finished eating, with Connor arriving last and clearly still half-asleep.  She arranged her dishes neatly and set them aside as she finished her coffee, slightly nauseated by the sight and sound of Connor eating his breakfast like an animal.  Stephen, across from him and breakfasting like a normal person, had a permanent look of disgust etched on his face, which he tried nobly to hide behind the newspaper and coffee cup.

     Soon afterward, it was time to head out.  Claudia did not miss how Nick not-so-subtly nudged Stephen away from the front seat, followed by a series of shared facial expressions she had previously thought only women were capable of.  In the end, Stephen held up his hands in mock-surrender, suppressing the knowing smirk that spread across his face as he climbed into the backseat.  Claudia fought to keep her cheeks from turning rosy as Nick ever-so-politely held the door open for her, an almost dorky smile on his face.

     She quickly realized that when Nick was driving, sitting in the front seat was far more terrifying than sitting in the backseat.  She found herself putting a great amount of effort into keeping her face neutral and her body relaxed while the fingers of her hand out of Nick’s view dug into the leather of the bucket seat so hard and deep she worried she’d leave marks or break a nail.  She herself was a rather lead-footed driver, admittedly, but she had long ago learned how to weave through the multiple lanes of London streets jam-packed with irritable drivers at nearly illegal speeds without anyone getting scratched.

     It was a relief when they finally parked at the site of the strange, glittering thing, which had not seemed to dim, wane, or shrink overnight.  It was still as mystifying as it had been the night before, and Claudia stared into its silvery-white heart with equal parts wonder and trepidation.

     What on Earth was this thing?  Claudia had seen enough- both in science fiction and in reality last night- to realize that it was some kind of portal or doorway.  There was no other explanation for that giant creature vanishing into it last night, or young Ben Trent’s apparent experience in seeing prehistoric times that Nick was so sure was real.

     Claudia didn’t know what to believe.  She had been brought up believing in evolution, in all that existed progressing irrevocably forward, leaving every iteration of anything in the past to be improved and advanced but never revisited in any past form barring fossils and history books.  There was no room for something so chaotic and anomalous as a glowing broken mirror that somehow connected 2006 to ‘prehistoric times’- at least, prehistoric times according to a kid whose entire bedroom revolved around dinosaurs, Godzilla, and the odd little green man.  Connor was convinced that the hulking animal they’d found in the woods- the one they’d found Abby Maitland in the vicinity of, apparently not the one that had killed the cow and left it among boughs- was a dinosaur.  Neither Professor Cutter nor Stephen Hart, paleontologists and therefore the closest thing Claudia had to a professional opinion, had spoken a single theory after Nick’s declaration that the light had taken the animal home.  If they had, she hadn’t heard it yet.

     She was starting to wish she hadn’t accepted Nick’s offer to join the search, or better yet, Hodges’ assignment.

     But she was in the thick of it now, like it or not, and she would see it through- to the very end, whatever it may be.  If this discovery was to the benefit of mankind and the world, she would be its advocate.  If it was the end of the world, she would take responsibility for her part in it.

     Only time would tell.

     Claudia was pleased to see that reinforcements had arrived- scientists and soldiers alike.  Vehicles, tents, and equipment had flooded what was an ordinary patch of forest just hours ago, transforming it into a government-controlled site.  She drew what comfort she could from the following of protocol and procedure- not just her own, but her colleagues’- and the steps she would take next long since pounded into her mind.  She could do this.  She knew how to.

     “My pen.”  Connor said, drawing her attention to him, and the silver stick in his land that seemed to lean toward the portal.  A moment later, it slipped out of his fingers forward and was sucked into the portal, which made a strange noise and seemed to ripple for a moment.  “That explains the compass going crazy.”  He said, joining dots she couldn’t see.

     “What could cause a magnetic field so powerful?”  Nick wondered aloud.

     “Maybe it’s an alien spaceship.”  Connor suggested.

     Nick and Claudia gave him matching looks.

     Her eyes shifted away from him and landed on Abby Maitland, looking rather overwhelmed as she sat on a pile of bins and crates and cases that Hodges had sent along with several members of the SAS and some Home Office scientists.  She had the feeling that Nick and probably Stephen also would dislike the government’s involvement, but she had been trained to call in more senior officials in situations above her pay grade and skillset, and she trusted the British Government.  Even if it didn’t trust her.

     Stephen appeared, carrying a steaming metal cup of either coffee or tea and handing it off to the blonde.  He stayed beside her and they seemed to start talking.  Nearby, two people picked up the strange lizard- Rex- in a massively oversized metal cage, eliciting chirps from the reptile.  Claudia hoped that Abby would broker no objection to some minor and relatively non-invasive tests.  She herself only planned to make a fuss if they wanted to kill and dissect the creature.  There was no reason for that when it could probably be returned to where it belonged- whether that was prehistoric times, a preservation society, or even Ben Trent.

     Her attention was brought back to Nick when he spoke a moment later.  “Everything we’ve seen about the animals so far is consistent with vertebrates that last appeared in the fossil record hundreds of millions of years ago.”  Nick spoke.

     Well, he was the expert.  “You mean they’re like creatures from the past?”  Claudia asked, hoping against hope that this wasn’t part of some idiotic real-life Jurassic Park experiment. 

     “No, I- I mean they are creatures from the past.”

     He said it with such a certainty that it surprised Claudia, as if it was a universally-known fact like the sky being blue and the grass being green.

     Before she had a chance to respond to that statement in any way, the portal made its odd noise again and startled her, drawing her gaze.  Connor was grinning.  “Brilliant.  It’s brilliant.”  His face dropped.  “Oh, that was my front door key.”  He winced.

     Claudia paid him no further attention, redirecting it to the Scotsman beside her.  “Professor, we have to go now.”  She told him.

     “You’ve got your own experts?”  He queried mockingly.

     “They didn’t see what we saw, and they don’t know what you know.”  She responded.  She was willing to believe what he was suggesting, but she wanted a second opinion, and she had protocols to follow, if only so she could keep her job.

     With that, she left him, heading toward Abby Maitland.  She had seen the girl’s focus on the peculiar lizard- Rex, she had learned- and since it had to be taken back to the Home Office for examination, she figured she could convince the girl to come with her and sign the OSA as well.

©

07:34

     The drive back to London lasted two hours and thirteen minutes, shortened by about fifteen to twenty minutes by Claudia’s leadfooted tendencies.  Normally, she would’ve felt guilty or at least embarrassed about how clearly disturbed Nick was by her casual speed-weaving through traffic and gunning it through stoplights about to turn red, but after he had terrified her with his driving ‘skills’ earlier that day, she had no qualms about making him sweat a little.  She did, however, pity poor Abby Maitland in the backseat, who looked a little green every time Claudia glanced into her rearview mirror to check on her. 

     She brought them to the Home Office and explained to the necessary officials that they would need to sign the Official Secrets Act immediately and she needed to speak with a more senior official about something she didn’t know how to define or explain.  She was referred to one Tim Haines to help her get the resources she needed, and the three of them were brought to a ‘private’ room (read: it had a door that shut but all the walls were glass) where they were presented with the Official Secrets Act to sign.

     She stood outside the room, watching the blondes discuss the papers before them as she leaned rather unprofessionally against the railing.  Neither seemed too pleased about the requirement, and Claudia understood why, but as the world as she knew it continued to shatter and distort around her, she clung to her training, to the regulations that she’d beaten into her own head and abided by to get this far.

     Soft footfalls of expensive dress shoes- men’s, judging by the size of heel- against the blue carpet behind her drew her attention, but she didn’t take her eyes off Professor Cutter and Ms. Maitland.  It wasn’t Haines or Hodges; she knew their gaits.  The person stepped up right beside her, and at last she glanced at them.  It was a man, dressed pristinely in an expensive (probably Italian) black suit complete with a crisp white shirt and a black and gold striped tie.  He looked at her expectantly, and she reluctantly initiated the interaction.  “Claudia Brown, Home Office.”  She introduced, pasting a small and professional smile on her face and applying the same tone to her words as she offered her hand and stood up straight.

     He ignored it.  “Yes, I’ve seen your file.”  He replied brusquely.  “James Lester.  I’ll be in charge of coordinating our response.”

    ‘Lovely- another stiff, pompous man to answer to.’  She thought gloomily, retracting her hand.  “You shouldn’t have brought them here, they have no security clearance.  I don’t like civilians in these situations.”

     “How many situations like this have you had?”  She queried, a sarcastic laugh in her voice.  She had meant it rhetorically, but even as the words left her lips, she found herself wondering if perhaps this sort of thing- creatures from the past and sparkling portals that they traveled through- had happened before, and this arrogant man led a response division.

    “How do we know they’re not responsible for all this in some way?”

     “That’s not possible.”  She returned immediately, refusing to even entertain the idea.  Her mind turned over the previous twenty-four hours.  The strange hulking creature in the woods, the strange reptile that Abby Maitland had brought back with her, the bizarre twinkling doorway of light in the Forest.  Things that couldn’t be reasonably explained without a child’s imagination or some seriously sci-fi elements being treated as fact.  One thing was for sure: no human or small group of humans- especially not this odd bunch- could have orchestrated it.

     But his verbal smacking was not finished.  “You spend your entire career planning for just about every crisis imaginable, up to and including alien invasion, then this happens.”  He leaned closer, his next words lower in volume but far higher in the amount of derision and condescension they held.  “So much for thinking outside the bloody box.”

     He swanned away, and her jaw clenched.  She stuffed one hand into her pocket, extending two particular fingers into its minute depth.  (She couldn’t very well flip him off in full view of officials and cameras, after all.)

     She sauntered closer to the glass, squinting to see what pages they were currently on.  They’d barely gotten started.  Knowing they’d be there a while, she took the opportunity to speedwalk back to her car and drive quickly back to her house.  She doubted she had time for a shower, so she simply packed a quick bag- a powder blue short-sleeved top identical in cut and cloth to what she wore, a pair of khaki trousers, a white denim jacket with long bell sleeves, and a pair of sneakers she rarely wore.  They were horrendously bright and she felt her cheeks heat up just looking at them, but she didn’t have any other shoes with tread as good as theirs, so they’d have to do.  On the note of shoes, she also swapped her terrible pair for a set of loafers.  They weren’t much better, but they had less heel and more comfort.  It would have to do.

     She grabbed a few other miscellaneous items she thought she might need and quickly drove back to her place of employment, stashing the bag in the boot of her car and hurrying back inside.  She returned to her previous station about thirty seconds before Lester reappeared, and she gave him a far more professional and concise run-down of what she knew.  Just as he strode away, Nick and Abby emerged from the room, looking both peeved and exhausted.

     “I’m sorry about all that.”  Claudia apologized sincerely.  She checked her watch.  “It’s nearly twelve.  Why don’t I take you down to the commissary?  Sir Lester can wait a little longer to meet you.”

©

13:00 / 1:00 p.m.

     Despite the instant disgust and annoyance that enveloped Claudia’s being when she next clapped eyes on Sir James Lester, she was truly surprised that he let so much time go by before storming down to the cafeteria to summon the three.  Judging by the exact time, however, Claudia imagined he had interrogated people to find their location, calculated how long it would take to get to there from his office, and then waited for the correct time to leave said office to stride into the cafeteria as the clock’s numbers changed.

     He seemed petty enough, and she had had two conversations with him.

     She muttered a warning to the blondes, hurrying to finish her soup.  In response, Nick shoved an entirely untouched diagonally-cut half of a sandwich into his mouth in an admittedly impressive feat and Abby tore the top off her chocolate pudding cup, tipping her head back and taking the whole dessert like an oversized shot.  Briefly, Claudia wondered what going out for drinks with the other woman was like.  She finished her crisps and drink and began collecting their trays and trash to dispose of, stacking the trays neatly with the rubbish arranged by type on the top tray.

     “If you’ve finished stuffing yourselves, we have a potential national security crisis to discuss.”  Lester’s voice brought expressions of disgust to the blondes’ faces.  Mercifully, only Claudia could see them, as they both were seated with their backs to Lester.

     Claudia smoothly rose, gave Lester a tight, professional smile, and disposed of the trays and trash, Nick and Abby keeping close like children hiding behind their mother’s skirt.  Reluctantly, they then followed Lester from the cafeteria to whatever their destination was.

     “This… phenomenon, Professor- Claudia tells me you have an explanation.”  Lester prompted.

     “A theory.”  Nick corrected, his accent thick.  “The boy’s experience proves that there’s a concrete landscape on the other side of the anomaly… and I think it’s the Earth, many millions of years ago.”

     “And this… ‘anomaly’, as you call it, is a door between time zones of the world’s history?”  Lester snarked as they came to a stop at a set of large windows that looked into a laboratory.

     Cutter made a humming noise in affirmative response.

     “Suppose this… remarkable theory’s correct.  What are the immediate risks?”  Lester inquired.

     “Famine, war, pestilence.  The ends of the world as we know it.  You know, the usual stuff.”  The Scot snarked back cheekily, and Claudia found herself torn between smiling and rolling her eyes.

     “I could do without the facetiousness.”

     “Well, I could do without standing in some anemic office in Whitehall talking to a civil service pen-pusher when I should be exploring the most significant phenomenon in the history of science.”

     Claudia glared.  A little bit of empathy and a few ranks was all that differed her and Lester.

     (The office was pretty anemic, though.  That was a fair point.)

     “Technically I’m not actually a civil servant.”  Lester returned, goading him.  “More a, uh… troubleshooter without portfolio in the PM’s office.”

     “You mean you’re a government hatchet man.”  Nick’s face was set in an aggravatingly impish grin, shamelessly cocky and brazenly impudent.  A picture of it would’ve made an excellent photographic accompaniment for the definition of ‘mischievous’.  He was enjoying this way too much.

     “Colorful, but, uh, surprisingly accurate.”  Lester conceded.

     “And there’s something else you should know.  I intend to find out what happened to my wife, whatever the risks, so I’m going through the anomaly, and if you want to stop me, then you’re gonna have to shoot me.”  Nick continued, that irritating smile paired with a saccharine tone that threatened trouble and possibly violence if he was challenged.

     Worry coursed through Claudia’s veins.  Something about Lester’s overall persona gave her the distinct impression that he wasn’t above using force to get what he wanted.  She just hoped he wouldn’t bring firearms into Cutter Control.

     Lester chuckled.  “I hope it won’t come to that.”  He replied lightly.

     Their conversation was effectively ended when a handful of scientists clad in white protective gear entered the lab, Rex’s green form the only real color in the room.  Claudia nonchalantly positioned herself between Lester and Cutter, hoping to block them from physically interacting in any way.  One scientist set the chirping creature down on a table with an illuminated top.

     “You really shouldn’t handle a lizard like that.”  Abby objected.

     “Let the experts do their job.”  Lester condescended.

     “They don’t know what they’re doing.”  The blonde responded.  Seeing the irked look on Lester’s reflected face, Claudia fought down a smile.  A scientist attempted to collect a sample of something with a comically large swab, but to no avail.  “You really shouldn’t mess with an angry lizard.”  Abby spoke up again.

     “I’m terrified.”  Lester’s sardonic opinion was unwelcome.

     Another scientist waved a handheld scanner of some kind down the length of the reptile’s body.  “Do they even know he can fly?”  Abby asked.

     “…‘Fly’?”

     If Claudia had known that, she had completely forgotten it, but was now struck with the odd sense that she was about to regret it.

     Indeed.  As if cued by Abby and Lester’s words or Claudia’s realization, Rex leapt from the table, spreading his wings (not fins!  Đдϻи it, why couldn’t they have been fins?) and taking flight.  The scientists inside panicked, reaching frantically for the animal.  A cacophony of shouts exploded, muffled and obfuscated by their protective headgear.  The lab door was opened- likely a communicative error- and Rex soared out above the poor fool responsible for letting him out.  Out of the lab, he now had access to the wide open spaces of the Home Office corridors, offices, and stairwells.  He immediately swooped through open air, dipping back and forth between levels.  If he was not quickly corralled, this could end very badly.

     A flash of black and blonde in her peripheral drew Claudia’s attention, and with a brief turn of her head she spotted Abby already in pursuit of the creature.  Resigning herself to the likely fruitless task of chasing Rex down, Claudia braced for the fresh pain her feet were about to be subjected to and jogged after Abby.

     “Rex!”  Abby called as the women paused at a railing, leaning over it to track the flight of the lizard (was he a lizard?  Did lizards fly?  This really wasn’t her area.).  He continued his merry descent, chirping blithely, and almost as one both women made for the lift.

     Claudia frantically stabbed the button for the bottom level, then the door-close button.  “You knew he could fly?”  She all but snapped at the blonde.

     “I tripped in the Forest and he flew out of my arms.  He landed a minute later and I eventually got ahold of him again.”  Abby explained.  “I’m sorry.  I thought it was obvious- the wings on his back.”

     “I was kinda hoping they were fins, like on his head.”  Claudia admitted.

     A moment later, the lift reached its destination, and the women burst out of it.  Claudia only caught a verdant glimpse before he was concealed by the twin silver doors of another lift closing.  With tired eyes, Claudia watched the light shift from the ‘1’ tile to the ‘2’ tile, then to the ‘3’ tile.  “He’s going up.”  She sighed, turning and grabbing Abby’s arm as she hurried back into the lift.

     This time, they rode all the way to the top floor.  The opposite lift was open, and no lizard was in sight.  “There!”  Abby pointed as they stepped out of the transportive box, and Claudia quickly followed her line of sight to see a very familiar and very irritating lizard gliding through the air, straight toward a series of offices.

     They speedwalked after him, Claudia managing to stay upright despite walking at such a speed in heels through sheer luck.  There was a clatter up ahead.  Loudly, Lester swore.  “Look out!”  He shouted, ducking away from the peculiar green creature soaring overhead.  Women shrieked in surprise and fright as Rex continued to fly through the offices and startle their occupants.

      “Where did that come from?”  One man queried, but Claudia paid him no mind.  There was only one office left, and within moments she and Abby had both stepped into it.  Their gazes shifted to the left- an open window near the ceiling.

     And Rex was just outside it, perched on the roof of the neighboring structure.  “Rex!”  Abby exclaimed, spotting him.  He chirped, seemingly unbothered by the uproar he had started.  “Don’t do it, Rex.  It’s not your world out there anymore.”  Panic rose in Claudia’s chest at the thought of the ramifications a more permanent escape would have. 

     The blonde drew something out of her jacket and broke it in her hands.  Extending one, Claudia realized it was chocolate.  She was dimly aware of Nick and Lester stepping into the office, remaining silent as they also observed.  “Try some of this.  You’ll love it.”  Abby coaxed.  His tongue darted out to determine what the peace offering was, much like a snake testing the air with its forked tongue.  Apparently that reptilian trait was far from new.  “I promise.”

    His wings fluttered for a moment, and with one last chirp, he took flight, rising high in juxtaposition to Claudia’s heart plummeting in despair.  “Rex, come back!”  Abby called to the creature, still chirping as he swooped merrily close by.  A few moments later, he disappeared from sight, and Abby let out a disheartened sound.

     But then, as all hope to save the creature and contain the situation seemed lost, Rex came flying abruptly back into view.  “That’s it!”  Abby cheered.  He landed squarely on her, startling her.  “That’s it.  Good decision, Rex.”  She praised the creature, turning back to the other three with a proud smile on her face as she cradled the lizard.  A relieved smile spread across Claudia’s face.

     Lester turned to depart, but Nick stopped him.  “Um, those risks you were talking about- there’s one I didn’t mention running down your back.”  He informed Lester, his voice quavering slightly with suppressed laughter.

     Lester frowned in confusion, then sniffed, and an expression of disgust crossed his face as he turned, revealing a bright green splotch on the shoulder of his suit jacket.  Sighing, the knighted official blazed out of the room, presumably to clean or change his jacket.

     “It’s so perfect.”  Nick’s remark only widened the grin on Claudia’s face.  Turning away in a poor effort to hide it, she couldn’t help but agree.

©

15:20 / 3:20 p.m.

     Claudia had fled Lester’s impending wrath to the little girls’ room, where she had hidden in a stall for over an hour.  She had only emerged from the stall when her close friend and colleague, Lorraine Wickes, had entered the bathroom and muttered in annoyance about none of the soap dispensers working (again).  Claudia had revealed herself, brandishing a tiny purse bottle hand sanitizer as both a solution and a conversation starter.  Lorraine, bless her, had kept Claudia occupied for another forty minutes exactly before reluctantly returning to work.  Claudia had followed her, but clearly left the entire level that Lorraine’s office was on upon seeing that three printer jams, four fires, a water cooler disaster of some kind, and a severe allergic reaction had sprung up in Lorraine’s absence.  One of Lorraine’s employees spotted her, ran over, got down on his knees and proceeded to beg her- either to save them or to spare him, Claudia wasn’t sure which.  She didn’t dare get involved, but she made a mental note to get Lorraine wine or something at a later date.  An expensive one.  And chocolate too- House of Knipschildt, maybe, or Guylian.

     Claudia only had to ask three people if they’d seen Nick or Abby, and within a few minutes of leaving Lorraine she’d found them again.  They had hidden themselves in an empty office, and poorly so.  Entering the office, Claudia quickly spotted Nick’s shoes sticking out from under the desk (the corresponding chair obviously across the room) and the top of Abby’s spiky pale hair sticking up over the top of a filing cabinet.

     “There you both are.”  Claudia spoke, fighting an amused smirk.  “C’mon, come out of there.  I can see you.”

      Abby emerged first, stepping out of her hiding place with a sheepish expression but no lizard.  Nick’s reappearance took a bit longer, the professor slowly crawling out from under the desk with an accompanying soundtrack of grunts, groans, and popping joints.  “Bloody h£ll, I’m too old to be doing that.”  He muttered, standing up straight with a wince.  He gestured to Claudia.  “Where were you?”

     “Little girls’ room.”  She admitted.  “It’s more comfortable to cram into a stall than under a desk.”

     Nick winced and carefully cracked his neck.

     “Professor Cutter, Miss Brown, and Miss Maitland, report to the office of Sir James Lester immediately.”  Lester’s irate voice came across the intercom.  The building-wide intercom.

     “It was fun while it lasted.”  Abby lamented.

     Nick stepped up to the window and peered out it downward.  “How bad would a fall from this height damage me?”

     “The windows don’t open this high up, and they’re reinforced so they can’t be broken by chairs.”  Claudia informed him.  She allowed a tiny smirk.  “There’s probably a really sharp letter opener somewhere in here, though.”

     “I repeat,” Lester’s voice came again, louder this time, and more shrilly, “Professor Cutter and Misses Maitland and Brown are to report to my office IMMEDIATELY!”

     “Never mind; he might get to us before we bled out and save us just to lecture us.”  Claudia decided.

     “He’ll have restraints put on our hospital beds and we won’t even be able to leg it.”  Abby moaned.

     Nick drew in a breath and huffed it out.  “Might as well get it over with, eh?  Before he turns up with security.”

     “He seems the sort.”  Claudia agreed.

     The three of them legged it with an unpleasant sense of urgency to the nearest lift, and Claudia punched the button to take them to the correct floor.  Her feet were hurting again, yesterday’s soreness and blisters exacerbated by chasing Rex and revived yet again by their hurried strides.

      By some miracle, no one slowed their traveling to Lester’s office, and when it came into sight Claudia reached up, pulling her ponytail free and quickly doing it up again, smoothing out nonexistent flaws from the first.

     She rapped politely on the edge of the glass wall that framed Lester’s office doorway, and narrowed blue eyes cut over to them.  “The laboratory results are in.”  He declared.  “You may wait outside, Miss Maitland.”

     “Why’d you call me, then?”  Abby all but spat, rightfully put out.

     “You’ve all made it quite clear that I need to keep you within my line of sight to prevent you from running amok.”  He nearly sneered.  With a condescending wave of his hand, he dismissed her.  “Off you go, now.  Stay in the corridor.”

     Claudia shot Abby a regretful look, lips pressed firmly together and eyes rueful, but nodded nonetheless, and with an irritated sigh, the zoologist stomped out of the office toward the water cooler at the end of the hall in direct view of Lester’s office.

     Lester immediately ignored Abby again and moved on to the true purpose of the meeting.  “The lizard’s DNA confirms your theory.”  He announced.  “The creature’s a living fossil.”

     With his words, Claudia felt the last clung-to shreds of hope that this could be rationally explained and her world hadn’t wholly imploded drained away, like the final dredges of tepid dishwater gurgling out of a sink.  Her gut twisted, a pit forming as she realized that there was no more hiding behind skepticism and logic and secular reasoning to escape this earthshattering discovery.

     “Under the circumstances, I’m going to allow your exploratory mission into the anomaly.”  Lester continued, and that pit in her stomach became a stone.

     “I’m taking the lizard back.”  Nick stated.  “Creatures that don’t belong should be returned to their natural habitat.”  Lester nodded.  At last- common ground.

     The pompous man picked up a paper and set it down on the other side of the desk, closer to Nick and Claudia.  “It’s a disclaimer.”  He explained.  “We don’t want any nasty lawsuits if you don’t come back.”  Claudia scowled, and Nick smirked sardonically as Lester extended a pen promptingly.

     “You can read that over somewhere else.  Little things tend to be hidden in the fine print of official and government documents.”  Claudia interjected, largely for pettiness’ sake.  She stepped forward and picked up the sheet off Lester’s desk, ignoring the writing instrument in her superior’s hand.  “I have other pens.”

     Nick nodded, and together they left Lester’s office.  Catching up with Abby, Claudia quickly informed her of the situation, then flagged down a passing colleague and asked him to bring the blondes to the office she had found them hiding in.  Then she headed for Lorraine’s office.  She needed a second copy of that disclaimer, and quickly.  And to make a few adjustments to her will.

©

Author’s notes:

First and foremost, despite how it might seem, I do not condone or take lightly self-harm or suicide, and they and depression and stress are very important issues.  If you are struggling with such things, please seek help, whatever form that may take.  There are suicide hotlines and anonymous apps you can go to, and on tumblr and Discord, kokocares is an service where you can communicate anonymously with real people about just about anything.

On a lighter note, House of Knipschildt and Guylian are two very expensive chocolate brands, and the former was declared the world’s most expensive chocolate in 2009 by Forbes.  lifestyleasia.com is where I got my information if you’re interested in learning more about these two brands and several others.  I went with House of Knipschildt because of the above declaration and Guylian because the picture on the website was so pretty.

The tail end of this chapter is where the AU elements spark to life, if you noticed, but it really takes off in the next chapter.

@witchofthemidlands @whatkindofnameisvolta @chocolatesawfish @whispers-of-gallifrey @thegingergal

Series Masterlist

[baked-hylian]

Tagged by @hirazuki -- thanks buddy!

1.Three ships?

Two off the bat are Wangxian from MDZS and Hualian from TGCF, the third would be Zelink from the LoZ franchise.

2. First ever ship?  

Zelink was baby Carl's first ship

3. Last song?

In the Backroom by Syudou I will die on the hill that it's the best song used for the endings in the csm anime

4. Last movie?

Sonic the Hedgehog on Netflix, I really am not up to date on movies much anymore

5. Currently reading?

Well I literally just finished the second book in the Burning Kingdoms series, The Oleander Sword, by Tasha Suri. Now I'm currently on re:Zero volume 20.

6. Currently watching?

I've been rewatching Naruto. So much Naruto. Way too much Naruto tbh in less than six months I've plowed through the first part and most of shippuden (on episode 367 meow.) Although it helps that I'm skipping episodes that only contain filler content.

Started the new Trigun reboot and I really enjoy the use of CGI in it so far, tbh it's way better than I had anticipated and arguably, I think it looks better than the current Berserk reboot. However the pacing in the new Trigun feels, a little whack at times.

I'm also slowing watching The Untamed, as I can't get enough of Wei Ying and the actor playing him does such a wonderful job (same with Lan Zhan's actor)

7. Currently consuming?

Water

8. Currently craving?

The motivation to repot my one plant that is in desperate need of being removed from the terra cotta one I got it in before it dries out entirely because I can't be bothered to ever to remember to water it regularly.

____________________________________________________

15 Questions 15 Mutuals

Rules: answer the questions and tag fifteen mutuals.

1. Are you named after anyone?

A soap opera character, Days of Our Lives iirc

2. When was the last time you cried?

Last night because I was laughing so hard at my cat being stupid about something (this is a regular occurrence with her)

3. Do you have kids?

I mean, if you count the kind that walk on all fours and bark or meow at you? Then two.

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot?

I've never used sarcasm once in my life, ever.

5. What’s the first thing you notice about people?

Their body language and how they carry themselves

6. What’s your eye colour?

Atm, a like blue-y green-y grey-y mess, with a hint of orange. Usually just depends on the lighting but I've never had a consistent results

7. Scary movies or happy endings?

Horror movies

8. Any special talents?

Stupid luck. I don't win contests, or prizes, but I have the best luck when it comes to procrastinating something and still getting it done with the results I needed just in the nick of time. Getting my driver's license is a good example as it was only a week out from expiring after my booked drive test. Which I booked during covid, and when everyone was struggling to get booked within a reasonable amount of time, but I managed to luck out with the one time slot left available in my city.

9. Where were you born?

Canada

10. What are your hobbies?

Writing, reading, annoying my cat

11. Have you any pets?

We established earlier that these are my children, one cat and one dog

12. What sports do you play/have played?

I used to be pretty good at volleyball, but I was short and could barely spike the ball past the net, so I didn't make the team after the first year.

13. How tall are you?

About 5'4''

14. Favourite subject in school?

Writer's craft. It was the creative writing course offered at my school, but I mainly liked it because I had spare before it so I would always go home and get stoned before coming back to write lol

15. Dream job?

Ever since I was a kid I wanted to be an author. It's something I still kinda struggle with due to something stupid that was said to me when I was 12, but I'm overcoming that.

I tag whomstever wants to do this! Because I don't have enough mutuals for it

[nevenabadr]

50 Shades of You! Tom Hiddleston X Female! Reader

Note: This is my first ever fanfiction for Tom Hiddleston. I have not written fiction for ages. English is not my first language.

Inspiration: this is inspired by:

“I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be buried in thy eyes.”

–Shakespeare, Much Ado About Nothing

Word count: 2660

Warnings: Romance, sweet words, and smut–this is +21 and not for everyone.

Enjoy reading and please comment with your feedback. 💚

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

During the summer Cambridge University was having a conference "Gothic Elements In John Milton's Paradise Lost." As you the young professor of literature, the coordinate manager suggested that the University alumnus could join for not just attending, but acting a piece of the tragedy. Amongst the candidates was the Classic department graduate and famous actor, Tom Hiddleston. 

You know that he might have scheduled issues or time conflicts, but you suggested the committee email him. To your surprise, he accepted the offer. 

 

The scene of choice was casting the devil out of hell.

On the stage during the conference eve, you did not have the perfect time to watch him, but you took a glimpse of acting from far.

He even caught your show and face attending the rehearsals.

The conference day was pressuring. You were trying to get everything right, in the middle of your so-close meltdown. A voice brought you to reality, "Hello, is this professor Y/N)?"

You turned to find the British handsome alumni smiling peacefully at you. "Yes, how can I help you?"

"Indeed, I am the one offering help." As he adjusted his glasses, I asked the committee manager to take upon some errant backstage. Maybe I can assist with the front ceremony?"

"Of course," you paused for a moment, "can you help me with the dinner's seats arrangement? My assistant is absent and I have to print and arrange them myself."

"Just show me a computer and all will be done."

Both of you took your time arranging an evening missing up some seats. 

 

"Here comes my name. You will be seated with the professors, of course!" He was busy putting name tags over the table.

"Oh! Don't remind me." You replied as if it is a conversation with an old friend and continued "the Classic department and Literature."

"They might start a war." Both of you started laughing 

"I have an idea." He took a tag from his table and moved yours next to his. "Now you will be with a friend"

The presentations finished, you had to go for the gym showers to change and wear your conference and dinner dress.

By the time you arrived, the scene from the tardy was about to be played. You took your place in the front seat.

Tom was playing Satan. He noticed that you were reciting the lines with him. He even almost smiles at you. Could not hold himself from looking at you in the front row while playing the scene of...

 

"All is not lost; the unconquerable Will, And study of revenge, immortal hate, And courage never to submit or yield; (And what is else not to be overcome?) That glory never shall his wrath or might Extort from me to bow and sue for grace With suppliant knee and deify his power, Who from the terror of his arm so late Doubted his empire[.] (I, 106–114)"

 

Your facial expressions captured his eyes, the movement of your lips and then the flame of your applause. 

At the dinner, he was interested to hear all about your work and writings. His eyes could not able to leave you.

 

By the end of the dinner, he walked you to your car, "this was lovely, thank you for tonight" 

You smiled at him, "thank you for accepting our invitation."

You shake hands and opened your car door like the gentleman he is.

"Would you like to go out with me, for a coffee? Books and coffee, maybe." He did not hesitate to ask.

"I would love to. You already have my number within the conference contact information." You raised an eyebrow and smirked.

As your car drove away, he knew he was up for an adventure.

Three months later, you are happily dating and sharing sweet kisses. He suggested a film marathon. Each week one of you chose a topic.

That Saturday's topic was Russian Literature and you had to add: "or inspired by it" 

"Excuse me, but Tolstoy has no comparison!" He grimaced

"Shadow and Bones, love!" You teased him, "it the Netflix adaption of the era" 

"After Anna Karenina, please," he sounded like an old professor.

"Alright then, deal." You tickled him and kissed his lips softly

Both of you enjoyed Anna Karenina, however, you were crying in his arms.

"That dreadful ending." 

He hugged you "Hey, Shadow and Bones will make it up to you, let me make extra popcorn." Once again, he kissed you.

He came back with popcorn that will at least survive three episodes. You snuggled between his arms.

"Look at Alexie, how he said 'Make me your villain.'" 

You were swooning as a fangirl.

"I beg your pardon, I am literally a villain," he complained

Oh! I would literally," stressing upon the last word, "let him have me"

His face was irritated and you not coming close to making love made him anxious, that you might not be ready. He never inquired about you.   

You caressed his tummy, "hey, a penny for your thoughts, sir." It sounded like one of the Jack the Ripper prostitutes, about which you have constantly been talking.

His voice evolved deeper and his eyes did not leave yours "your deepest sexual desire. What do you crave?"

Comparing to your age, you were nervous and inexperienced. "My life was spent between books. I..."

He did not let you continue speaking and took your lips between his drawing your body closer to him, uttering between his hot kisses "I am not just a villain" his lips made the earth move "I am a God" whispering against the sport skin of your nick " a king" his hands were moving down the same tomes his lips reached the line of your bosom whilst his hand slides prevailed touching down pussy and dug his fingers driving you till the edge.

"I want you," you whispered between your soft moans.

He neglected your cravings and maintained his rhythm, watching your complexion and closed eyes till you arched your back in awe.

You collapsed between his arms heavily breathing "that was extremely wonderful, but I need you"

He kissed your lips playfully. "you are a delicious girl, Y/N, but..."

You hashed him with a kiss that he pulled from "if your life was between books, I want you to write me your deepest desire."

"Darling, it was a series, Alexie is fictional." You wrapped your arms around his neck.

"Fictional or not, he is a man, you are paying for this." 

He was deadly serious "write me your longing."

You laugh "What? Like the 50 Shades of Y/N?"

He gazed into your eyes "aiming to please and punish you, darling, avenging my honour"

The next morning when you were with your family on Sunday's lunch, he opened an email titled "50 Shades of Y/A"

 

The content was as follows:

"You!"

 

He grinned to himself and determined to show her how fiction can become real.

Your week was busy. He had signed a new contract for a mini-series and was supposed to film soon.

Not replying to your email made you nervous, even went meeting for dinner. He was quiet about it. 

You checked your sent box millions of times to make sure it arrived. Still, you knew he was busy working, and you were busy with the finals coming soon.

Thursday’s dinner, nothing yet, nothing but gaggling and discussing your days and current reads. 

"Darling, we did not decide this week's marathon" 

He did not take his eyes off the menu "Are not you having a big family week, you should go" he was confident and calm. 

Deep inside you wanted to grab his neck and jiggle him, but for the lady you are and the restaurant, you were calm.

"Wonderful!"

The dinner was over; he drove you home, kissed you goodnight.

Saturday morning, a ringing at your door. Apparently, you received a package, a big one.

You kept thinking that some books might have come early from your publisher. Unwrapping it to a surprise satin 1950 coat with Ruby red entourage and black heels.

There was also a note, she recognised the handwriting:

 

"Wear nothing but this for your punishment. If other pieces were found upon your body, then fear my fury and vengeance.

Love, 

T"

 

So, it was her version of Mr Grey. But have you ever been ready to comply with anyone?"

Suddenly, a message arrived on your phone 

"Reminder, a black will pick you tonight at 8, don't disobey me, Princess."

Your heel clicked on the floor as a man dressed in an old fashion suit opened the car for you. The windows were blacked out, so you did not see where it was heading.

"Welcome, Princess," he greeted you as if you were royalty, "My master is awaiting your presence."

You took his hands. The place was carved out of one of your favourite dark fantasies, a mansion with gargoyles, dark lighting, and a vast garden.

You could not believe your eyes. Tom knew your deepest desires indeed.

But that is not the end.

The inside was as of a dark enchantment with deep red flowers and candles. The servant showed you the way to a dining room fit for a feast. Tom was not there. 

"My master requires you to await his arrival." The servant bowed and left.

You were like a child been left inside her favourite toyshop. The ornaments, the lighting, and even the shapes of the food. That aesthetic you only could dream of but never reach.

"Enjoying yourself already?" You turned to find your man dressed in a black Victorian suit. His face was shaved, shorter hair, no glasses. Just all of the handsome glory.

You took a step forward "no princess, I shall come for you"

He kissed your hand and then sat on the table's head, while it sat on the opposite side and faced you away indeed.

"Are you pleased, princess?" He raised his glass of red wine.

"Yes, my Prince." You smile.

"In here, you shall address me as your king." His eyes lit with fire, and his voice was harsh.

You played along and raised an eyebrow "my king."

"This is not a game, princess, you are my prisoner"

You dined quietly, as he did not drop his eyes from you.

"Enjoying yourself?"

You flirted "deeply, my king"

He left his chair and came closer to you, his fingers left your chain so you can gaze into your eyes.

He asked, "care for a dance?"

You smiled "I would love to."

You stepped forward and took his hand to a ballroom, just for you and him, the dark king.

The following piece of music was sensual and moving.

"The coat, princess, I want to see nothing but heels on your body,"

You obeyed the king, but for a tick. When you took it off, underneath it a short emerald green strapless corset dress tight upon the curves of your body and pushed your bosoms to their glory.

He grinned and his eyes darken "looking for further punishment, I suppose?" 

"Anything to please the king." You took his hand and kissed it. He did not expect it.

He turned furiously and the next song was romantic. He wrapped his arms around you once again, waltz, you sneaky woman, deserved joy before being punished.

Twirling you on the dance floor like the earth has no one but the two of you.

By the end, he carried you "to my chambers, little one"

You were nervous and anxious. What if he did not like what was underneath the dress?

He entered a candlelight room with a four-poster bed in the centre. The curtains of the bed were black and emerald. 

He laid you in bed, kissing your lips and playing with your hair. 

His breathing was heating against your skin.

"You won't miss that dress, will you, princess?"

He did not wait for your reply as he lifted a dagger amongst the layers of his suit and cut the corset down to the last piece of the dress.

You wore nothing else. You were lying exposed as he stood to look upon your naked curves for the first time. 

You spontaneously tried to cover your bosom and private parts.

"No, do not you dare" he was angry and you could not distinguish reality from fantasy.

You throw the rest of the dress away. Hands laying by your head and he stood there for a juncture, gazing at every inch of your body.

"Turn," he ordered angrily as if the soul of Loki took over him, "I said, turn" 

You nearly dropped tears "here my king" 

You felt the softness of his lips upon your delicate shoulders.

Kissing the line of your spine. He knows this will work like magic. You tickle from your back, now trying to lick you, taste you, slap you.

He flipped you to face him. You were sobbing. He could hear it under your moans.

"You are not a princess, you are not a queen."

He wipes her tears from her cheek "you are a goddess and I am your slave."

You giggled between your tears, wrapping your arms around his neck "my king"

"Your, slave" As his voice became softer, he hushed you with a finger.

He kissed every inch of your body. You were playing with his short blonde locks.

"Let me worship your bosom, my goddess" he kissed, licked and played with your nipples and cupped your bosoms gently.

Kissing down till he reached your pussy, "Let me worship your temple" as he licked your clitoris.

You were moaning loader now

“Not this time, my king I want you inside me."

"Alright, as the pleasure of my goddess, I shall obey." 

He adjusted his weight on you and asked, "wider for me, my goddess of beauty" 

You opened for him as he enters you for the first time. You let out a loud breath "are you alright" he took your hands between his.

"Continue, my king."

He is just thrusting himself gently inside you. Your moans filling the room 

"I am a villain, a king, a god, and a man"

Your hands were free to run along his back as he continued, "a man, no, a slave for my goddess"

You were moving with him and moaning louder, "my king, what else?"

 Thursinting himself harder and moving with a faster pace.

"My goddess, the sculptures of beauty," between his breathing and moaning "Da Vinci would not be able to capture your grace"

You were kissing as your nail dug inside his shoulders.

His last whispers as moving himself inside your pussy which was clutching around his manhood. He moved with pace, as you rocked your lap against him

"I will live in thy heart," kissing your lips as you bite his lower lip between your steamy breath. "Die in thy lap, and be buried in thy eyes.”

He was going faster now and you were in tremendous awe and your skin was heating up with your pleasure.

"Look at me goddess" you were closing your eyes as you become close to you your orgasm "look at me," he ordered 

"I love thee, Tom," you said as your pussy was clutching around his manhood and trembling underneath him. His enormous climax followed your orgasm. 

You were shaking. He used his hands to keep himself from crushing you with his weight.

He rested his forehead on yours till both of you caught your breath. Gently took you between his arms as resting on his side "and I love thee, Y/N"

kissed you and as you were falling asleep, yet muttered, "I made you my villain, did not I?"

He giggles, "I beg your pardon, your God, King, and lover"

You kissed for the last time of that night and snuggle between peacefully each other's arms.

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

Tag list:

@shafverani

@imsebastiansta-n

@brokenwitty

@221bshrlocked (awaiting your feedback)

@sinner-as-saint

@zemosimp05

@buckys-fairy

[dreamwritesimagines]

Twisted 14 - Sinking Deeper [Spencer Reid x Reader]

A.N.: Thank you so much for your wonderful support my loves! Here’s the next chapter, I hope you will like it as well, and please let me know what you think of it! ❤❤ Ily, kisses! ❤❤❤ 

Ps: Special thanks to Bea for helping me!

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Murder, serial killers, violence, manipulation, mentions of sex, drinking, smoking.

Word Count: 4180

Summary: Not every night is for sleeping.

All things considered, you were sure that you were supposed to be more stressed out than you were right now. The FBI still had nothing on the copycat killer that had sent you flowers, or any of the others that were running wild all over the country. BAU was working nonstop because there was more and more pressure coming from the supervisors and higher ups, and Spencer had told you something about the profile evolving but hadn’t gotten into details.

Not that you would ever ask him to, what you heard was more than enough.

Despite all that, whenever you were with him, you managed to feel almost…peaceful. It was so unfamiliar to you that it had taken you a moment to acknowledge what it was.

Happiness. Pure happiness, enough to get rid of the mind-numbing panic and worries about the future.

Or, as your sister had so eloquently put it, you were so, so screwed.

You took a sip of your mimosa, texting Spencer under the table, barely aware of the conversation taking place but you had to look up when you heard your name being called.

“Would you want to, Y/N?” your mother asked and you frowned.

“Hm?” you asked, your eyes stopping on Lily playing with her dolls by the corner of the huge living room before you looked at Mina and Kenzie, “Sorry, what were we talking about?”

“There’s this opera—“

“Nope,” you shook your head fervently, “No way. It’s Mina’s turn.”

Mina let out a whine, “I hate you so much right now.”

“She has a point,” your mother pointed at Mina, “Your sister was the one who came to the charity ball, you can come to this one.”

Mina heaved a sigh while Kenzie reached out to hold her hand.

“Babe come on, it could be fun.”

“Exactly!” your mother said, “Thank you, Kenzie. Besides, Nolan is coming as well, so we will be two couples there. Y/N, of course if you want you can bring Spencer—“

“I’m not exaggerating when I say I’d rather spend an hour in my serial killer father’s cell with Spencer.”

Your mother rolled her eyes and Mina tilted her head.

“Nolan Yates is coming too?” she asked, pinching the bridge of her nose, “I’m spending a whole night with the boss of my boss?”

“You two should get to know each other!” Your mother said, “Besides, there’s no harm in telling your bosses that you should become a partner already—“

“Mom,” Mina cut her off, “We talked about this. I will earn that position by myself, not because of anyone’s influence. Including yours.”

Your mother sipped her drink, “It’s as if you like struggling, Mina.”

Kenzie looked between them and smiled brightly, trying to diffuse the situation. “I’m actually pretty curious about him,” she said, “Since you’re a couple now, I just need to see what kind of a person he is.”

“There’s nothing to see, babe.” Mina murmured, “The guy looks like he spends millions alone on his beard care and wears bowties to bed.”

“Yeah but bowties are cool,” you grinned and a silence fell upon the table.

“I will get back to you sleeping with my boss’ boss in a minute mom but—“ Mina cleared her throat and turned to you, “I’m sorry, was that a Doctor Who reference?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “I started watching it because Spencer likes it so much. It’s actually pretty fun, he said we could go to Sonic-Con next year if I want.”

“Comic-Con.” Kenzie corrected you helpfully and Mina blinked a couple of times.

“Jesus Christ.”

“I don’t get it,” Kenzie said, “I told you to watch it with me and you said, and I quote It has like one billion episodes Kenz, I don’t have time for that.”

Mina stole a look at Lily to make sure she couldn’t hear you before she turned to Kenzie, “Yeah, the difference is that you weren’t dicking her down.”

“Nobody is dicking me down!” you whispered, and your mother gasped, putting her mimosa glass down.

“Girls, not at the breakfast table!” she insisted, “Not that this kind of language is acceptable anywhere…”

“Yeah Mina, leave her alone,” Kenzie said, “I think it’s sweet.”

“What’s next? You will want to get a doctorate as well because he likes them so much?”

“That wouldn’t be so bad,” your mother mused out loud, “Y/N, I know the lovely dean of—“

“No!” you pointed at them, “No to both of you. And thank you Kenzie.”

Before your mother could say anything, Lily ran to you to climb into your lap.

“Hi there bug.”

“Can we play after brunch?” she looked up at you, making you smile at her before you pinched her chubby cheek, making her giggle.

“Of course,” you said, “Dibs on green unicorn.”

“I like pink better,” she nicked a piece of cheese from your plate, “Are you talking about your prince?”

Mina smiled into her glass, “Something like that sweetheart.”

“Lily, why don’t you ask auntie what you asked me the other day?” Kenzie told her and Lily nodded fervently.

“Can I wear pink on your wedding?”

“Whoa-“ you cleared your throat, “Lily, baby, there’s no wedding.”

Kenzie and your mother grinned at each other and turned to you and Lily but she looked as if she was confused.

“But if he’s your prince…” she trailed off and Kenzie cleared her throat.

“I would like to come up with a tamer version of that question,” she said, “When do we get to meet him?”

“Mom and Mina already have,” you said but your mother shook her head.

“That doesn’t count.”

“Because you treated him like you were going to hire him?”

“Oh you did the same to him as well?” Kenzie asked your mother, “I thought Mina would have a heart attack when you did that to me.”

“I honestly thought you would break up with me after that.”

You fixed the huge bow on top of Lily’s hair while she sat still in your lap, listening to the conversation.

“How about dinner?” your mother said, “It’d help us to get to know him better.”

“Nope,” you shook your head, “It’s too early.”

“Oh come on Y/N!”

“I will introduce him to you guys when I’m sure you can behave.”

“He has spent hours with dad, you do realize that?” Mina asked with a small laugh, “You think he behaves? The guy is a—“

“Mina.” Kenzie nodded at Lily and Mina stopped herself immediately but Lily had already heard it.

“I thought your dad was a bad man, mommy.”

“He is, baby,” she nodded, “That’s why he’s far away, remember?”

“Then why is auntie Y/N’s prince talking to him?”

“Because he catches bad people, bug.”

Lily gasped and looked up at you, her eyes shining with excitement, “Like a superhero?!”

“Mm hm, like a superhero,” you grinned at her and she fidgeted in your lap.

“When will I meet him?”

“Yeah Y/N, when will we meet him?” Kenzie batted her lashes and you pointed at her.

“That’s evil, you know that right?” you asked, ignoring Mina’s laughter, “Low blow.”

                                                 ***

Towards the evening, right before it was time to meet Spencer he had texted you, saying that they would be doing overtime at work. You were bummed, but you still texted back to tell him it was alright, that you would be going home and he could drop by whenever he was done.

After having dinner, you went to the couch with a bottle of wine and turned your laptop on to take a look at the files your assistant had sent you. Campbell wedding was almost done, Vincent had sent you a couple of new ideas to add into the theme, and you had to email back two pastry shops to confirm the wedding cake orders.

You were so lost in work that you had barely realized downing the half of the bottle and it was only when your phone started buzzing on the coffee table that you looked away from the screen of the laptop.

“Hi Lincoln,” you answered the phone, still typing your replies to your assistant and he took a deep breath.

“Hey,” he said, “Are you watching it?”

“Watching what?”

“TV. They’re talking about the copycat killers.”

“What?” you grabbed the remote to turn on the TV and of course, the first TV channel you found was already covering the story.

“The FBI has confirmed that the body that was found dead earlier today belonged to one of the copycat killers that has been—“

“What the fuck?” you murmured, keeping your eyes on the screen and he cleared his throat.

“Yeah,” he said, “I know it’s creepy but I mean…I don’t know, isn’t that a good thing?”

“Someone killed one of the copycat killers?” you asked, “That makes no sense at all.”

“Do you think it’s the same one?” he asked, “From the charity ball?”

“I don’t know,” you muttered, “Jesus Christ.”

“Are you okay?” he asked, “I didn’t know if I should call, but…”

“No no, I’m glad you did.” You muted the TV, then filled your glass again, “What’re you doing?”

“Just leaving work,” he said and you raised your brows.

“Linc, it’s eleven p.m.”

“I had to attend a meeting overseas.”

“Workaholic.”

“I prefer the term hard working,” he chuckled, “How about you? You weren’t sleeping, right?”

“Nah, I was waiting for my boyfriend,” you said, making him pause for a moment, “And checking client files. And drinking.”

“You’re lucky you can deal with your job while drinking, these sharks would pounce on me if they ever saw me like that.”

You took a look at the TV and typed in the copycat killer’s name into the search bar, sipping your wine.

“You’re being safe, right?” he asked you, “I haven’t heard from you for like a week or so, you’re alright?”

You pressed your lips together, trying to decide whether to tell him about the flowers or not, but in the end you decided not to.

“Family drama,” you said, “I’ve been running everywhere, and what with work and everything…Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be silly,” he chuckled, “Just wanted to make sure you were alright, that’s all.”

“I’m alright—“ you started but then looked over your shoulder when you heard the doorbell ring, “Gotta go. I’ll call you tomorrow?”

“Sure thing, see you,” he said and hung up, so you jumped over the couch to rush to the door before you opened it to see Spencer standing there.

“Hey,” you smiled at him, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him, “Long day?”

He nodded silently and wrapped his arms around you, pressing you closer to inhale your scent.

“Hi,” he muttered into your hair, “Yeah. Long day.”

“I have wine?” you said as you pulled back, and closed the door after he stepped in, “I also have a bathtub even you could lose yourself in.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry,” he said and hesitated for a moment, “On second thought, do you have coffee?”

“Are you sure you want to drink coffee at eleven at night?”

“I still have some reports to go over,” he said, stepping into the living room while you put the coffee on and his eyes stopped on the huge screen that was still giving details about the copycat killer.

“You saw that huh?”

“Mm hm,” you watched him as he dropped his satchel and you went to sit down next to him on the couch. “I was checking the other news. That’s why you had to work overtime?”

He rubbed at his eyes and ran a hand through his fluffy hair as if it would help, “We thought the profile was changing but this whole thing just proves someone is trying to keep it stable.”

You pulled your brows together, “What?”

“The victimology didn’t match with the last two victims, and now one of the copycats ended up dead, probably the one who went rogue.”

“How did it not match?” you blinked a couple of times, “They all left a flower in the crime scene, no?”

“Well yeah, but the rest—“ he stopped for a moment, staring at you, “You never actually checked his victimology?”

“I never watched any of those interviews he gave after he was imprisoned, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Yeah, and those interviews are the reason why we still don’t have a specific suspect because everyone knows everything about him, and most of your family life,” he heaved a sigh, “But you know what his victims had in common?”

“They all bled out while he watched,” you crossed your arms, leaning back to the arm of the couch, “I know that. He liked watching that.”

“Your father never killed anyone outside his social circle,” he reminded you, “They were all wealthy and overly successful people, remember? That’s why it took FBI so long to find him, because the previous profile was wrong. They thought it was someone who didn’t have access to the same resources, the same wealth and status, and it was for revenge.”

“Yeah but Spencer, he killed those people because he is evil.”

“He killed those people because in his mind, he was creating this…perfect business environment. Most of the people who got murdered were either failing business people or people who failed to meet his expectations. He was very successful, he expected the same from everyone. That’s his victimology. The flowers on the crime scene, they were just his signature. Well, his signature and his small offering to you.”

You thought for a moment, then went to the kitchen to pour him a cup of coffee before walking back to the couch.

“I still think this is a bad idea professor,” you muttered as you gave him the cup and he smiled at you, then took a sip while you lit up a cigarette.

“So then,” you crossed your legs, “His victims were the cream of society and that means something? Other than the fact that he was a psychopath?”

“That means a lot of things,” he said, “So far, most of the victims had a higher status in society, it means that the copycats actually wanted to continue his legacy from where he left off. Maybe not the people who disappointed them per se, but until these last two victims, they all had higher financial status, either family money or with their own successful companies but last month, someone first killed a bartender and then a social worker. The only thing that told us it was remotely connected was the flower in the crime scene.”

“That’s why the profile was changing,” you muttered to yourself, “Okay. Is that normal?”

“No, not at all,” he shook his head, “It’s very unfamiliar. It did prove our multiple copycat killers theory but other than that, it was going to make things incredibly harder until…” he nodded at the TV and you pulled your brows together.

“Hold on,” you sat up straighter, your mind working nonstop, “Multiple copycats who are trying to continue that monster’s legacy, and one happens to taint that legacy by going rogue…”

“And he gets killed,” he finished your sentence for you, “Exactly.”

“It was one of the copycats who killed him?”

“That’s my theory.”

“So they’re not actually working together then?” you asked, exhaling the smoke, “Or- or- wait, you said there could be one copycat that was controlling the others, maybe they did it?”

Spencer took a sip of his coffee, “It could also mean that the leader wouldn’t want to take chances like this again,” he said, “Someone tainted the legacy, he might begin to believe he cannot trust anyone with that again.”

You let out a breath, stubbing the cigarette, “What does that mean then? For…all of this?”

“It means that someone cares so much about your father’s legacy that they’re ready to kill anyone and everyone over it, even their partners,” he said, “It also means that their whole operation is starting to crack. It’s only a matter of time someone makes a mistake and ends up getting caught.”

You massaged your temples, “Well, at least one of us can see the light at the end of this psycho murder tunnel.”

“You can’t?”

You shrugged your shoulders, “It feels like it won’t stop,” you croaked out, “It’s like… It’s like I can’t wake up without dread filling me. It’s always there, at some corner of my mind. The more I think about it, the more I feel like—“ you stopped yourself and Spencer frowned, putting his coffee down.

“What?”

“You don’t want to hear that, trust me.”

“Try me.”

“The more I feel like it will go on until the day I die.”

“It’s impossible for this case to take that long, Y/N—“

“I didn’t say it’d take long,” you took a sip of your wine and heaved a sigh before you looked up at him, the expression on his face almost hurting your heart physically, “Told you that you didn’t want to hear it.”

“Don’t say that.”

You forced a small laugh and got up from the couch, suddenly restless.

“You said it yourself,” you said, pacing in the living room, “His victimology. He went after the people who disappointed him, right? Can you guess who’s disappointing him right now by not turning into the monster that he is?”

“That’s not what I—“ he shook his head fervently and stood up from the couch as well, “No. No way. It’s his victimology, but none of the psychiatric evaluations or anything on his file, including the list of his victims suggest that he would go after his family. There was a reason why he never tried to hurt you or Mina or your mother even back then—“

“No I’m sure they’re safe,” you said, “But Mina didn’t get flowers, professor. I have.”

“If our theory of him being in contact with the copycat is right, it means that your father is involved as well—hey,” he stopped you from pacing, reaching out to hold your hands in his, “Listen to me. Whoever it is, they will never, ever touch you. I’ll make sure of that.”

A painful smile pulled at your lips, “Spencer, that’s not your responsibility.”

“It is.”

“FBI can’t—“

“I’m not talking about the FBI, I’m talking about me.”

You took a shaky breath and wrapped your arms around his middle, burying your face into his chest as you swayed slightly.

“Is it okay if we stay like this for a moment?” you muttered, shifting your weight from one foot to another “I don’t— I can’t sit still, I don’t know why.”

“Do you want to hear the reason why?” he ran his fingertips over your spine up and down, as if trying to soothe you and you nodded.

“Yes please.”

“You feel threatened, so your brain is trying to understand where the danger is coming from. It’s telling you to either stand or run away, so it’s pumping adrenaline into your system. We call that nervous energy.”

“That could be my stripper name,” you mumbled, making a chuckle vibrate deeply in his chest, “Tell me more.”

“The nervous energy happens when you’re under stress,” he said, “Our primitive brain is used to physical threats and it created this system in order to protect us. The threat you’re afraid of is not here, not physical, but your brain is still sending that energy to your limbs so that you can attack that physical threat, or run away to somewhere safe. It’s all a part of your defense mechanism.”

You hmmed into his chest, still holding him tight as if someone would take him away from you before you sniffled and pulled back to look up at him.

“You know, I think I got something you can’t explain with science.”

He raised his brows, “Debatable.”

“Do you want to bet? If I win, you’ll tell me what you planned for the next date.”

“What if I win?”

You wiped at your nose, “Tell me your price, professor.”

“There’s this conference on smoking and its effects on health next week, if I win you will attend that with me.”

“That’s a very indirect way to say that you hate my smoking.”

“I mean, it’s better if you see the effects in that conference, I think it’ll be good for you. It has five sessions, so it’s around….7 hours, including breaks.”

You blinked a couple of times, then nodded. “7 hours? That’s— okay. Yeah, I’m sure— I’m sure it’ll be fun.”  

A smile pulled at his lips, “Okay,” he said, “What is it?”

“It’s just,” you nibbled on your lip, trying to find the right words, “I was thinking and I realized something. I— I think it’s instinctual somehow, you can’t really explain it with science but when you’re here…” you paused, “With me, I mean, this whole panic dissolves. I feel safe, and it’s so unfamiliar that I don’t—“ you let out a small laugh, “I don’t know how to deal with that. I normally don’t feel safe, ever.”

A small smile pulled at his lips and he tilted his head, his warm gaze focused on you. You scrunched up your nose.

“Don’t tell me science can explain that.”

“Oxytocin.”

“God damn it!” you exclaimed, making him laugh, “Oxytocin?”

“Yeah, oxytocin. It’s a hormone that ensures that you trust people along with everything else. Basically, your brain— when you’re attracted to someone, your brain releases dopamine, so your serotonin levels rise and it produces oxytocin. It’s a big part of romantic attachment, it’s released during sex as well.”

You arched a brow, a small smirk flashing over your face and he pressed his lips together, a look of mischief appearing on his face.

“It strengthens fidelity as well,” he explained, “Seeing your partner as more attractive than others, and preferring to interact more with your partner than strangers.”

You clicked your tongue, “7 hours of conference, here we come.”

“It’ll be fun, I heard they’re bringing a real lung.”

“Can’t wait,” you muttered and entwined your fingers with his, “Well for what it’s worth professor, I have a lot of oxytocin for you.”

He cleared his throat, “Scientifically, one of the most important aspects of it is reproduction, in females it triggers labor and in males it moves sperm so having a lot of oxytocin can be—“

“Spencer, I’m trying to talk dirty in a scientific way!” you groaned, a fire spreading over your face because of embarrassment and you took a step to walk away from him but he grabbed your hand to turn you around and tug you closer to him, making you let out a whine.

“I feel like an idiot,” you murmured and he shook his head fervently,

“No, of course not,” he said, pushing your hair behind your ear, “Hey. I don’t know anything about weddings. So we complete each other if you ask me.”

You scoffed a laugh and looked up at him, your brows furrowed together, “You really think that?”

He nodded and you heaved a sigh.

“Okay.”

“And…for your information,” he swallowed thickly, “I have a lot of oxytocin for you too.”

A giggle you couldn’t stop escaped from you as he leaned in to capture your lips in a kiss, making your stomach do a pleasant flip. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your lungs full of his scent, making you dizzy.

“They’ll take away your doctorates for that joke, professor,” you breathed out as he pulled back, resting his forehead on yours while you raked your nails over the back of his neck gently.

“Worth it,” he murmured to your lips, leaning in to kiss you again, this time pressing you closer to his body and your heart started beating in your throat, a whine climbing up to your throat, desire filling your system faster than any other drug.

“Would you like to stay the night?” you whispered, and his eyes shot up to yours, both of you aware what you were really asking. He looked almost hypnotized by the sight of you in his arms and he blinked a couple of times, as if trying to focus before he nodded.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice hoarse and you took a shaky breath.

“Yeah,” you managed to say, your whole being consumed by this moment. “Yeah, I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

You could swear he could hear your heartbeat echoing through the room,

“No scientific explanation this time, professor?” you whispered against his lips and his fingers caressed the sensitive skin of your neck, sending a pleasant shiver from there to your whole body.

“No,” he murmured, leaning in to brush his lips against yours, “Not this time. Not for the lady who imparadises my mind.”

The lady who imparadises my mind.

That was how Dante described Beatrice in Paradise.

You stood on your tiptoes to pull him into a kiss, then tugged at his hand to lead him into your bedroom.

Chapter 15

[myhockeyworld87]

Not So Dangerous Liaison - Sidney Crosby - Part 27

Word Count: 3,429

POV:  Reader

Warngings: Language, NSFW, Smut

Notes:  Here we are again. I think you all might kill me in future chapters so for now, let’s enjoy this one...haha. As always love your feedback and Happy Reading! Let me know what you guys think.

Not So Dangerous Liaison Masterlist

It was less than two weeks after your conversation with Mario that you and Sid were traveling to Los Angeles for the All Star game. Geno and Anna were supposed to be with you, but because of an injury, they had to back out. It was better for him to rest up anyhow. For Sid, it was more work than fun, though he did have a more carefree attitude than when he's normally on the ice. The two of you did sneak in some nice alone time over the few days.

Once you were back in Pittsburgh, it was business as normal. Well, maybe normal wouldn't be the right word for you, as you were busy helping with the Stadium series game that would take place at the end of February against the Flyers. Your hours were a little later when you were in town, which Sid didn't mind as he just spent extra time on the ice or watching films while he waited for you. You insisted that you could just take separate cars, but he wouldn't hear of it. It was really quite cute of him. 

The days leading up to the game were packed. The guys were doing media and squeezing in practices with their new equipment, while you worked behind the scenes with the rest of the crew setting things up. You wanted Heinz Field to feel just like PPG Arena did for them. The weather had everyone in a tither as Pittsburgh had got a bit of a warm front. Days leading up to the game saw temperatures in the seventies which was almost unheard of, for a February in Pennsylvania. In fact, on the day of the family skate, you were all literally wearing jeans and lightweight sweaters as you stood around watching the guys practice. 

"Will you hold Scar for me?" Vero asked. You were watching the guys practice with the ladies today, instead of by the bench. It was a rare occurrence that you got to take a game in with them, so it was a nice change of pace. She handed baby Scarlett off to you while she bent down and put on Estelle's skates. 

"Hello, sweetness," you said to the one-and-a-half-year-old, kissing her little cheeks in the process. "Do you see daddy out there?" You pointed out where Marc Andre was and Scarlett smiled. 

"Hi, daddy!" She yelled, but you weren't entirely sure he could hear her, as he was all the way down in net. "Unc Sid!" She exclaimed when Sidney came by and tapped on the glass. 

"Hi Scar!" He waved at her then gave you a look. One you weren't entirely sure you'd ever seen, before skating away leaving you to wonder what was going through his head. Practice ended soon thereafter and you all joined the guys out on the ice. Though most of them shed their pads due to the heat of the afternoon sun. 

"Ice looked a little slushy," you commented to Sid when he skated over to you.

"It's not bad. They said the temperature's supposed to drop tonight and tomorrow so we'll be ok. Come on." He grabbed your hand pulling you out onto the ice with him. It was something you still weren't comfortable doing. Sid could literally skate circles around anyone, while you still had to concentrate if you wanted to go backward. He recognized that and always made sure he held onto you so that you wouldn't fall. "You looked good out there." He said offhandedly as you made your way around the now shiny surface of the ice.

"Huh? I wasn't doing anything. I'm pretty sure I should be saying that to you."

"That's not what I meant."

"Obviously," you said hitting him playfully and losing your balance at the same time. Sid righted you with ease so that to the casual onlooker they never would've seen you stumble. 

"I meant holding Scarlett."

"Oh well, she's easy to love that's for sure. I'm going to miss them when they go." With the expansion team coming to Vegas, it was already widely known within the team that Flower would be the member they would choose. It was crushing, not only to you but to Sid as well. Your friendship with the Fleury's was one of the things you both treasured most; they were the reason you were with Sid right now. And while they would always be some of your best friends' things wouldn't be the same in Pittsburgh without them. 

"I know," Sid replied wistfully. "But we've still got them for now." You skated around a few more times, before he let you go, only so that he could wrap his arms around your midsection and skate with you from behind. It was definitely intimate and you were surprised with all the media around that Sid was into such a public display of affection. Sure there had been the parades, but usually, he tried to keep your relationship out of the public eye if he could. "I just think you really looked good." He whispered in your ear.

"You've seen me in this outfit before."

"Not that, you know…" You had to crane your neck back to look at him, but you noticed he was turning a bit red and it had nothing to do with the unseasonably warm temperatures. "Holding Scarlett." He finally spit out. "It makes me think about having our own."

"OH!" The word came out a little louder than you intended. Of course, Sid had confessed that he wanted kids with you. It just seemed like something that was further away in the future and not something that he'd been thinking about recently. 

"I know you're going to tell me it's too soon, and maybe you're right. I just can't help but think about it on days like today." You looked around then, watching all the guys skate with their significant others, some with kids while others had kids on the way. You could see the allure. As the two of you continued to glide around the ice, you let your mind wander to what it would be like. It was easy to picture, especially after watching Sid this summer with his Little Penguins camp. He'd be holding your son's or daughter's hands, much like Flower was doing now with Estelle, helping them navigate the ice. When Sid's hands tightened around your waist you couldn't stop yourself from wondering what it would feel like to be growing his child inside you. You found yourself relaxing more into Sid's embrace as you daydreamed about your future. 

"It's definitely a nice picture," you finally sighed, letting him know that you weren't opposed to the idea.

"Yeah, yeah it is." His voice took on a dreamy quality and you knew he was imagining the same thing as you. It seemed like one minute you were caught up in your little fantasy and the next you guys were having to leave the ice and it was back to reality. Not that your reality was a bad one, you still had Sid and for now, that's all you needed. 

Sid was right temperatures definitely cooled down. By game time the following day, it was barely thirty degrees and falling. You were bundled up in a coat with the team logo on it along with a matching tossle cap on your head. Sid had been mad that you hadn't worn the one all the ladies got with their guys' number on it, but you had insisted that when you were on the clock you were rooting for the entire team and not just him. At the moment you were wishing you had it so that you could put it on top of your current one. Your teeth were chattering and you kept bouncing on the balls of your feet to keep you warm. 

Midway through the first Sid scored, which had you jumping up and down and cheering along with the team as well as the thousands of fans in the stadium. It did little to help get you warm and you were practically running to the locker room tunnel by end of the first. You grabbed a cup of hot tea while the players went over the first period and where they could make improvements. It went pretty much the same way in the second, even though Nick Bonino scored early the Flyers were able to cut the lead in half with a goal from Jakub Voracek. Again, you raced off to get warm as soon as the horn sounded. 

Your feet were numb by the time Cully scored a goal early in the third, and though the Flyers scored on a power play, Chad Ruhwedel sealed the Pens victory with over five minutes left in play. The stadium erupted with the win, though it did little to warm you up. You stayed long enough to watch the team skate around in their little victory lap, then headed back down to the nice warm locker room. 

Of course, Sid had to do media, which meant you were there even longer. He was afforded the luxury of a nice hot shower before the two of you headed home. "Can you please turn the heat up?" you whined once you were in the car. "I'm freezing."

"It was a bit cold out there, eh?" Sid commented as he turned the heat on your side of the vehicle to max. 

"Ya think? I thought I was going to freeze to death when the snow started to fly."

"Babe, it's all part of outdoor hockey." He grabbed one of your hands in his. "Fuck, you are cold. You should've worn thermals or something."

"Trust me I will next time. I think it's just worse because of how beautiful it was yesterday."

"Well, as soon as we get home, we'll get you in the tub."

"Uh, yes, please." The ride through the city, while mostly traffic free, seemed endless. 

"Head upstairs, babe and I'll bring you up a cup of tea as soon as I get rid of my gear." Not having to be told twice, you made your way up to your shared master bath and started running the water. You hated stripping out of your clothes, as it felt like the only warmth your body had at the moment but as soon as your toes touched the steaming water, you sighed as the warmth heated your skin. You were fully immersed up to your neck by the time Sid came up with a steaming mug full of tea. "Better?"

"A little," you answered taking a sip of the drink he'd prepared perfectly for you before setting it back down on the ledge of the tub. "Still a bit chilly." 

"Well in that case." Sid started to strip out of his clothes. Divesting himself of his suit that he'd worn to the game. He folded it over the chair you used to put your makeup on, so that it didn't get any wrinkles, then made his way over to you and the tub. "Scooch up, babe." You did and he scooted in behind you, easing you back against him once he was comfortable in the water. His arms wrapped around you instantly and you felt engulfed in his heat. "This better?"

"Mmm much." You were completely content wrapped up in your boyfriend's arms with the water lapping around you both, so you rested your head against his chest. "You played really well tonight," you mused shutting your eyes and just giving yourself over to the warmth that was Sid.

"It was a lot of fun. I love playing outdoors. It's so authentic." Only Sid would put it like that, but you knew what he meant. "Though I wish you would've dressed warmer baby."

"I'm fine now." You took another long sip of tea, the temperature perfect. 

Sid kissed your temple. "Good, can't have you getting sick on me." 

"God no, I'll have to sleep in the guest room, if that happens."

"Why?"

"I'm not going to be responsible for getting the star player sick." You told him, turning your head so that you could look him in the eye. "You will not be missing a game because of me."

"I'd still probably end up missing a game because I wouldn't be able to sleep without you in our bed." His arms tightened around you, almost as if you were going to run off to the guest room right then. "But we're not worrying about that now, because we are definitely sleeping in the same bed tonight." His lips captured yours then, stealing your breath away and heating your body all the way to your core. You could feel his erecting grow against you as the kiss went on. It was nothing to reach behind you and wrap your fingers around his length. He moaned into your mouth, before gently sucking on your bottom lip as he broke the kiss. "You know two can play that game." His hand stole down your stomach and slipped between your folds, the water making it easy for him to caress you there. Your hand stuttered on his cock as he slid two fingers into you. Sid took the opportunity to grab your wrist with his free hand so that you could no longer manipulate him as you liked. "Lean your head back and enjoy this for a bit."

"But…"

"We'll get to that." He told you as he settled you against him once again. He shimmied his legs so that they were in between yours but only for a moment so that he could spread yours wide; your legs now splayed on either side of his. Sid's fingers continued to toy with your pussy, alternating between pumping in and out of you and rubbing circles on your clit, while his other hand tweaked your nipples into taut little peaks. Before you knew it you were panting with need, the chill of the evening game completely forgotten as Sid stoked a fire deep within you. His lips came down on the nape of your neck, his tongue driving you wild just as his fingers were. It was all too much as the water gently lapped at your skin. You felt your body gently rise into his touch, yet he held you firm working you towards that peak you craved. It didn't take long for your orgasm to hit. It washed over you like a wave cresting on the sand as your body trembled, this time not from the cold but the pleasure of Sid's touch. "You're so fucking sexy when you cum." His warm breath sent a shiver down your spine.

You were so sated you almost didn't want to move, but then you wanted him to experience the same ecstasy that you'd just felt. "We should…" you went to tell him that you should move to the bed but Sid had other plans.

"We'll be fine here, just kneel for a second." Your legs were already on either side of him, so it wasn't hard. He adjusted himself a bit, sitting more upright in the tub, before bending his knees slightly for you to lean against. You turned your head to the side to see him stroke himself a couple times, before lining himself up with your pussy. "Now just come back a little." You did as instructed; your pussy engulfing his cock as you basically sat reverse cowgirl on him. With his knees bent you leveraged yourself against them and started to ride his cock. "Fuck baby, you feel so good." His hands were on your hips making sure you wouldn't slip in the tub, but controlling your pace as well. 

Water sloshed against the sides of the tub, some of it spilling over the sides. "Oh shit," you moaned out knowing that you were making a mess of the bathroom floor. 

Sid could see where your thoughts were going. "Forget it, (Y/N). We'll get it later." He accentuated his words by thrusting up deep inside you. The action making you groan with desire. "That feel good, baby?"

"Yes," you cried out as he hit your g-spot again. "Right there," you panted and he hit the spot over and over again until you were convulsing around him in your second climax. 

"Jesus, (Y/N)," Sid moaned as your pussy gripped him like a vice. The grip he had on your hips tightened as he rammed into your cunt. He was so close to falling off the edge and cumming with you but he wanted to hold off, make it last longer, give you one more orgasm before he sought his own pleasure. Sid slowed his thrusts then, as you relaxed momentarily against his knees. "So fucking beautiful." It took you a moment to catch your breath before you started to move again. His thrusts weren't as deep as before, giving you a moment's reprieve before he went at it again. You knew Sid, knew he could keep up this leisurely pace all night if he wanted. The water was cooling though, and even though your body was still on fire after two orgasms you had no wish to be cold again. It was then that you decided to move your hips, rocking in a motion that you knew would drive him wild. And it did. It wasn't long before he was bucking up into you again. The water going everywhere now. Some of it even hitting his designer suit which rested across the room on the chair. "Fuck, (Y/N)," he hissed out and you could tell he wouldn't last much longer at this pace. He let one hand snake around to your clit. His fingers applying just the right amount of pressure there, as he rubbed circles into the little nub. 

"Sid, I'm gonna…"

"Yes, baby, yes," he groaned on the verge of hitting his peak as well. You were both there with a few thrusts. His hot cum filling you up as you quaked around him. The pleasure so intense you swore you saw stars. Sid collapsed against the back of the tub and while you wanted to follow, the position you were in did not make it that easy. It took a little maneuvering on both your parts, but soon you were back to lounging against Sid.

"We should get out." The water was definitely cooled now and this time you shivered from it.

"You still cold?"

"A little."

"Well, let's get you in bed then." The towel you had laid out was completely soaked, so you just laid it across the floor as you moved to get out of the tub. "Careful," Sid warned as you stepped out onto the shiny marble floor. You moved quickly yet cautiously to the cabinet and grabbed both of you a towel while laying down a few more to soak up the water. 

You'd just finished wrapping the fluffy white towel around your body when Sid scooped you up and headed towards the bedroom. "Sid, stop! I need to clean up that mess."

"It'll dry." He must have been anticipating how the night would go for the bed was already turned down as he placed you in the middle of the mattress. He scooted in behind you, discarding his towel in one swift motion, before sweeping the covers over both of you. His hands made quick work of ridding you of the wet cloth that was helping you dry. "They say body heat is the fastest way to warm someone up."

"Hmm, is that so," you said turning in his embrace. 

"Mmmhmm. I'm sure I read it somewhere."

"I'm sure you did. I'm just wondering what else this book said."

His hands were roaming up and down your back and gliding across the globes of your ass. "Oh, lots more."

You kissed his neck wanting to return the favor he had given you a while ago, then you moved to his chest before saying, "such as?" You continued your path downward over Sid's abs.

"I'm sure there was…" he sucked in a breath as you placed a warm kiss on his pelvis. "Fuck I can't think of a word." 

You grinned up at him from beneath the covers. "Let me see if I can make you forget all together." Sid lost all train of thought as your lips connected with his cock. The night continued on like that for a few more hours before the two of you were so sated you could do nothing but sleep. 

[bopbopstyles]

ELEVATED SURFACES

RATING: R/smut (sex, heavy alcohol use, smoking, lots of cursing)

WORD COUNT: 11.6k

CATEGORIES: fratboy!harry

MASTERLIST (check it out for extras) | INSPO TAG | PLAYLIST 

a/n: as a recently graduated srat girl and lover of a good frat party, this one shot was intended to fill the whole in my heart which is LEGIT frat Harry. he is fratty and hot and long haired and a mess. if u like this try out TEMPTATION which is my other frat!h series and the first thing i ever wrote on this gd website (he’s not as fratty but we love him a LOT)

a/n pt.2: as a note, i want to make very clear that frats and greek organizations frequently harbor predators and abusers. i do not in any way condone that behavior or that reality, and i would like to bring attention to a petition to remove a fraterity that had done truly many horrible things--your signature would be a huge help. for survivors of assault, you are not alone, and it is not your fault. 

As you rose up, your eyes locked on a figure in the doorway of the basement. His long hair was loose, curls that had been pulled out from the hair tie he always had on his wrist, a tight white shirt that you knew meant all of his tattoos were on display. Harry was watching you, you realized as you twisted your hips and bounced your arms up and down with the beat, singing the words. So you kept his gaze, and just to taunt him, when the chorus hit again, you dropped down, ass hitting your heels, eyes on his the whole time.

or

Harry is a very fratty frat boy and Y/N is a really good dancer

pls reblog and share with your friends 💕

“We really should not be still going to our own mixers,” Emily said to you, fluffing her hair and rotating to check her ass in her jeans. You looked up from where you were sitting on your bed, a gin and tonic in one hand to get your blood flowing before the party started. Emily sighed, and then turned from the mirror to you, grabbing the coffee cup that had never seen coffee, just alcohol. “Are people even going?”

You nodded, tossing your phone next to you and leaning against the bed frame. “Alexis is on her way over—she got held up finishing an essay. Maya said she might come, I tried to convince her by promising I’d bring my flask and you’d have your Juul.”

“I swear, she has to just give in and get one of her own.” Emily took a long sip and crossed her arms.

“She claims that will make her addicted.”

Emily rolled her eyes. “She’s already addicted—she uses half my pods and ends up hanging out with whatever guy will let her take a hit. Is it just going to be us and all the new members?”

“No, I think some juniors are going. And definitely the sophomores—they’re all on the little hunt.” You got up, going to your computer to change the song, scrolling through your comprehensive and well-curated pregame playlist. “Plus, who gives a fuck, we’ll only be there for an hour or two for the free alcohol and then we’re hitting the bars.”

“True.” A knock came from the door, and Emily hollered to come in, and Alexis appeared in the doorway, her makeup looking utterly flawless as always. You had always wanted Alexis’s wardrobe and told her constantly, to which Alexis always replied that she wished you were the same size. Unfortunately, Alexis was a solid five inches shorter than you and had a completely different bra size, making sharing quite difficult.  

“Bitches, I brought tequila!” Alexis swung into the room in a cloud of perfume, and threw her arms around you and Emily’s shoulders. “Come on, we need to get tipsy before we get to this mixer. Nick already texted me making sure I was coming.”

“Grab the shot glasses,” You replied, nodding to the makeshift bar cart in the corner, which as laden with glasses of all kinds and all your alcohol. “Are you hooking up with him tonight?”

Alexis shrugged, pulling her tequila from her bag and setting it on your desk before turning and going for the shot glasses. “Probably. I don’t know, he’s been weird lately—we hooked up on Monday night, but then he got all weird and left like immediately after and hasn’t texted me since. Barely acknowledged me when we saw each other in the library.”

“Was the sex weird?” Emily asked, unscrewing the top on the tequila so she could pour.

“Yeah,” Alexis replied, holding the glasses steady while Emily poured. “Like weirdly…intense? I let him come inside me which was probably a stupid idea, but I’m on the IUD so we should be all good. And then I offered to let him stay and he just got all flustered and said he had to go.”

You took your full shot glass, and you all clinked before tossing them back, the alcohol burning on your throat.  You hated tequila shots but Alexis loved them, and you did admit they did their job. “Do you think he’s caught feelings?”

Alexis’s eyes widened. She had been pining after Nick for ages, his tall basketball stature and surprisingly good fashion sense a dime a dozen. Much less, apparently the sex was insane, so what wasn’t to like? “You think? I thought it might’ve not been his vibe.”

Emily grabbed the bottle. “Another?” You all nodded, and she poured again, The Weeknd crooning in the background. “Just see what happens tonight, feel out what his vibe his.”

“Good idea.” You slammed back another shot, hissing before setting down the glass. “Okay, that’s enough tequila or you two are going to be carrying me home tonight.”

Emily and Alexis laughed, before taking seats on your bed, continuing to chatter about the night ahead. It was a Friday, your favorite night because it was usually just mixers, no general parties, which as a senior you had grown to despise. The fighting for watered down alcohol, packed bodies and horrific gender ratio was simply no longer something you had the energy to deal with. Mixers were your preferred zone, filled with your sorority sisters who you adored, the opportunity to actually hang out with the frat brothers whose presence you enjoyed, and usually pong. Sometimes they even let you DJ because you had the best party playlists. The president of Sig Ep had actually asked for the link one time and you’d heard they used it sometimes when the brothers didn’t want to man the computer anymore.

You surveyed your outfit in your narrow mirror, the black denim jeans and simple white tank that showed a bit of stomach and your tan you’d worked hard on during your winter escape to the Caribbean with your lineage. It was simple, yet it suited your needs—after three and a half years of college parties, you had discovered getting dressed up for frat parties was a useless activity, since your clothes would get drenched in jungle juice and sweat anyways. You left your best outfits for Saturday nights spent clubbing downtown.

If you were being honest, the whole reason you were going tonight was because at the last mixer you’d had with Beta, you’d turned around on the dance floor to find Harry’s eyes on you. You were already dancing with another one of the brothers and ended up making out with him in a corner until you got bored, but you hadn’t been able to get the sight of his eyes on you out of your head.

You’d known Harry since freshman year, your interactions limited mostly to mixers and the occasional run-in in the dining halls when you exchanged pleasantries, or the one time he’d volunteered for a karaoke team for your sorority philanthropy event and you’d been in charge of his team. But the two of you had rarely ever spent time together.  That didn’t mean you hadn’t had a lingering crush on him since you’d first laid eyes on him, though, and over the years he’d only gotten more attracted. A body that filled out his white t-shirts and black jeans, hair long and sweeping his shoulders to where he wore it in a bun most times, a jaw that could cut glass. He was hot and he knew it, as did everyone else on campus.

As juniors you had both been on the executive boards of your respective Greek organizations and had ended up in meetings together about housing violations and social calendars, but it hadn’t ever led to much more than you both complaining about how fucking annoying FIJI and their insistent requests for a house was, considering they’d trashed their last one. But this year, you’d found his eyes on you multiple times, and you wondered if perhaps your time had arrived. You’d both always danced around each other and you were curious after all these years if he was finally interested in hooking up. Not that you really expected much more, or were looking for much else—you were a senior, after all, and you were enjoying it.

“Y/N.” Alexis’s voice ripped you from your musings over Harry, her fingers snapping from her spot on your bed. “What’s got you thinking hard over there?”

“Harry?” Emily guessed, one eyebrow raising. “Emmett said he’ll be there tonight.”

“He’s always there,” you replied, because he was. Like you, he seemed to enjoy the mixers, but usually avoided the open parties unless he was on door duty.

“You’d hook up with him, right?”

You looked at Alexis. “Obviously. He’s so fucking hot.”

She laughed, as did Emily. “Then go for it, girl. It’s not like he’ll say no.”

You shrugged. “He might. Never know.”

“I seriously doubt that. You look hot as fuck, as usual, and are the life of the party. Beta adores you. They literally asked you to move in this year when they had an open spot.”

“It was a joke,” you reminded them, because it was—you wouldn’t ever be allowed to live in the house and they knew that. It was true though, you had become a bit of a groupie over the past few years, preferring the more laid back vibe in their house. You’d become friends with all the senior guys, except the weird or obnoxious ones, and had become a regular invite to Bachelor Monday watch parties in their second floor living room. You brought snacks and your friends, they provided the booze and the cable.

“Still,” Emily said, nudging you the toe of her black booties. “Don’t sell yourself short, babes. He is missing a brain if he’s not interested in you.”

“And seriously missing out,” Alexis added. You shot her a look, but she just chuckled. “Bitch, I lived next door to you last year. You are loud.”

“Shut the fuck up,” you said, laughing, but she was right. You were. Guys had told you on countless occasions, but you really couldn’t find it in yourself to care all that much. “Come on, we should go. Maya is texting me asking when we’re leaving.”

“Do you have your cigs?”  Alexis asks you, downing the rest of the drink she’d made while you had been staring into space.

It was your vice, one you had picked up during a semester abroad and only did when you were drunk. You knew you should stop, but something about it made you feel powerful, a bit badass, so you kept doing it. “Obviously. Emmett will have a fit if I don’t.” You swiped your pack from your desk drawer and your trusty pale blue lighter, and shoved them into the pocket of your jacket. With one last swig of your drink, your veins buzzing with alcohol just the right amount, the three of you were off, singing an old Hannah Montana song in the elevator down to the lobby of your dorm.

One of the pledges was working the door, but happily let you three into the frat house. The lights on the main floor were off, except for the ones in the front study that doubled as a coat room, where you tied the arms of your jackets together and set them in the corner so you didn’t lose them. Your cigs were transferred to your back pocket, and you just prayed you didn’t forget they were there and crush them again.  

Josephine and another junior were the sober sisters, and offered you three hugs before checking your names off the list. You got positive points for being there, as if that was the main reason you had shown up.

“Emmett!” Emily called, and the blond-headed boy’s head flipped up from where he was standing behind the bar. A Gatorade water cooler was sitting on the high bar, stacks of red solo cups and boxes of white claws and beers sitting on top of one another.

Aka, your happy place. “He’s bartending, thank god,” you said, and grabbed Emily and Alexis, weaving through the crowd. Girls stopped you all as you moved, hugs and squeals at your appearance. You had to admit, you were popular in your sorority, but mainly because you had made it your mission to get your money worth. As a result of your exec position, you’d gotten to know the sophomore member class and you adored them all, chaotic messes who always turned up with you and made you laugh hysterically. Honestly, you were sad to graduate because it meant leaving behind so many fun friends and memories.

“We’ve been waiting for you three,” Emmett said when you arrived in front of him. He was wearing the frat’s homecoming shirt from the previous year and his eyes were dilated, obvious that he had smoked before. “What are we drinking?”

“What’s the mix?” You asked, pointing to the cooler.

He grabbed three cups, knowing you would be taking it. “Shit ton of vodka, Kool Aid, water, the usual.”

“My favorite,” you replied, blowing him a kiss. “How is it downstairs?”

He filled the cups and handed them to you all. “They just wrapped up pong so it’s still getting moving.”

Alexis took a long sip before grabbing your hand. “Sounds like we need to get people dancing.” With that she turned around, her long slick black hair moving in a circle. “Let’s dance!” She called, and the girls around you cheered, following the three of you down the slippery steps to the basement.

Downstairs, The Motto was playing and you bobbed your head along with the beat, moving your hips as you entered the large basement space. It was dark except for a glowing sign with the Beta letters in narrow neon lights, casting the room with a tint of green. Your battered frat shoes, an old pair of white Vans, stuck against the beer and jungle juice-covered floor as you made your way to the middle. A couple of other girls and brothers were scattered around the floor, and you broke from Emily and Alexis’s hands as you twirled on the floor.  

You raised your cup above your head and started dancing, rapping the lyrics by heart, moving your hands and hips along with the song. Emily and Alexis sang along with you and some of the younger girls showed up, then some other seniors who shared your love for frat parties. All of a sudden your little was screaming and running towards you, Mallory’s arms wrapping around your waist.

“Oh my fuck god, MOM,” she screamed, using the nickname she’d had for you since you’d taken her as your little two years ago. You laughed and threw your arm around her shoulders, screaming the lyrics. There was a specific reason you had taken Mallory as your little, and it was because she lost her shit at parties just as much as you did. You two were a dynamic duo like no other, and if your grand little didn’t have a huge exam on Monday, she’d be here too and you would all be dancing together as usual.

You downed your jungle juice, the sugary drink combined with the loud music blasting and your friends making your adrenaline kick into high gear. And then Maya appeared, arms waving like crazy, and then she dropped it low and you remembered why you adored her, even if she always stole Emily’s Juul. She had a beer in one hand and a white claw in the other, ready for the night ahead.

Then Emmett appeared, trailed by some of the other brothers in tank tops and t-shirts, one carrying a six pack on his shoulder and handing out warm beers to the brothers he passed. Emmett beelined for Emily, his arm thrown around her shoulder, their completely platonic friendship on show for everyone. The song ended and you took a breath, crushing your cup and tossing it into the corner so you could have your hands free. Emily pulled her Juul free and took a hit, passing it to Maya next without a question between them.

The opening notes of Come Get Her started and you immediately grabbed Alexis and Emily, beelining for the bar that the speakers rested on, something you weren’t even sure how it got there, but it was your favorite elevated surface of all time. Wide enough to dance, tall enough to be high but not too high where you couldn’t mostly stand. You clamored up, coming to nearly full height and turning to your friends.

“Somebody come get her, she’s dancing like a stripper!” You screamed, your friends coming in a circle in front of the three of you, some other girls getting up on the bar. When the line came through again, you decided fuck it, and you dropped your ass low, bending your knees and tipping your head back.

When you danced, you didn’t give a single fuck about impressing guys or any of that. You just simply loved to dance with your friends, move your hips, and didn’t care what you looked like. Mallory screamed when you got low, your name falling from her lips in a squeal of joy.

As you rose up, your eyes locked on a figure in the doorway of the basement. His long hair was loose, curls that had been pulled out from the hair tie he always had on his wrist, a tight white shirt that you knew meant all of his tattoos were on display. Harry was watching you, you realized as you twisted your hips and bounced your arms up and down with the beat, singing the words. So you kept his gaze, and just to taunt him, when the chorus hit again, you dropped down, ass hitting your heels, eyes on his the whole time.

That had him moving. He joined a circle where Emmett and some other senior guys were dancing with some other girls, beers in hand as they shifted back and forth. But you knew what would have them all actually dancing and screaming and jumping along with you. You needed to see Harry like that—loose and free. So you turned around and grabbed the attention of the sophomore on aux, his name something along the lines of Justin, and screamed your song choice to him. He gave you a thumbs up, and then you turned back around. Your hair was sticking to the back of your neck, and you rolled it into a loose, high bun, pulling the elastic on your wrist around it as you swayed to the song.

You could hear the song ending, and with your eyes on Harry, you decided you would get down. He was next to a pledge with a six pack, and you wanted a beer. You were mixing alcohols like nobody’s business tonight, but you’d done worse. You squatted down and kicked your feet out, Mallory’s hand coming out to help you down. “You good?” She asked, leaning in to you.

“Yeah, just hot,” you replied. “Going to get a beer.” She nodded and let you go. There wasn’t a need to watch your friends as much in a normal party, since you knew all the girls here. Maya pulled you in for a hug as you moved, and then the current president called out your name from where she stood with her boyfriend, a white claw in her hand.

Squeezing next to Emmett, you nudged the waist of the pledge next to you. “Can I get one?” You asked, pointing to the beers.

“Yeah,” he replied, pulling one from the case and handing it to you. It was a Natty Light, but you really could’ve given fewer fucks—they were a frat after all, they didn’t buy the good stuff.

You popped the tab and took a long swig, the liquid quelling your rough throat from singing. And then, the song changed, and you smiled, eyes meeting Harry’s. You decided you were going to draw him out. “I got hoes, callin’!” You screamed, the song starting the speakers, and the boys all joined in. Fuck it, you thought, and chugged the rest of your beer so that you could jump, your arms outstretched and pumping up and down. Your bun was bouncing on your head and you were grinning, the music flowing through you.

Harry was watching you, his head tapping, hair swishing back and forth. You needed more. So you moved into the center of the circle, knowing the guys would hype you up, and reached for him. “Why aren’t you dancing?” You asked him playfully, and his eyebrow shot up.

“Fuck! Shit! Bitch!” The best lines of the song ran through the speaker and you just grabbed his hand, which was warm, and pulled on him. Suddenly his body was in front of you, close, and you tried to process what your original plan was. But then, Harry started moving, back and forth, head bopping, rapping the lyrics in time, and you knew you had gotten him. “I be ballin’, like a motherfuckin’ pro,” you sang, starting up to jump, and to your surprise, Harry joined you, a carefree expression finally crossing his face. He was screaming the lyrics then, hair bouncing as he moved. He rotated, grabbing the shoulders of another one of the boys, who joined in with him, them screaming the lyrics at each other.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the change in his demeanor so sudden. When the song changed, T-Shirt by Migos coming on, he turned back to you. All of a sudden, his lips were next to your ear and you choked on air. “Fuckin’ love that song,” he said, accent smooth in your ear.

“You and every other frat boy,” you replied, stepping backwards. You had ended up at the side of the circle closer to the wall, and so you moved towards it, freeing yourself from the heavy circle of boys.

The song was slower, not a jumping and dancing song, but one that suggested the slow grinding of hips and closeness of bodies. Which fuck it, you wanted. Desperately. He was looking at you with an intense stare, smile sloppy from alcohol, Harry sweaty on his forehead, arms straining under the fabric of his shirt. He was following you, taking a step away from his friends and following your body as if magnetic. So you just went for it, putting your weight lower, and rolled your hips back and forth to the music.

Mama told me/not to sell work/Seventeen five/same color T-shirt

Your eyes met his, and the shared intensity of his gaze stirred something inside of you. Desire. A need to know what his skin felt like, a desire that had been lingering since you first saw him. Your hands moved on their own, draping over his shoulders, and his hands found the curve of your waist, and suddenly you knew what his skin felt like on yours. They found the bare skin between the hem of your shirt and the top of your jeans, burning your already warm skin.

Justin-something on aux changed the song, deciding that was enough, and then No Role Modelz was on, and you moved, swaying back and forth, your chests coming closer and closer. His face was inches from yours and you wondered what his lips would taste like. The slow rap and smooth feel of the beat had your eyes fluttering shut, mind twirling from the alcohol and the lowlights, the heat of the packed basement. If you didn’t have Harry under your hands, you might have left for a smoke break, an excuse for air. But you weren’t letting go of him anytime soon. So you turned around and when your ass touched his dick you couldn’t help but smile—he was already hard. You felt his arm move and watched him sip his beer, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he drank. You rolled your hips against him and then reached up, grabbing the can and bringing it to your own lips, taking a sip and watching him watch you. The two of you were taunting each other, acting on a feeling that had always been an undercurrent in every one of your interactions, a slight sexual tension that if you pulled on would become taught.

Which as you pressed against him, you fucking yanked on. His free hand clasped around your hip, holding you close and swaying in time with you. You could feel the sweat that had soaked through his t-shirt a bit, but you didn’t care—you  were sweaty yourself, so was everyone in the room. It was part of the appeal, the fact that everyone was a mess and no one cared. He was rock hard between the denim of both of your jeans, and you could feel the power racing through you, the fact that you had him like this going straight to your head.

When Mr. Brightside came on, you decided that was your smoke break time. You couldn’t stand the song after so many years, and the feeling of bodies pressing together as they jumped was too much for you. “I’m going to get some air,” you said, turning around so you could face Harry.

He was so close to you, just inches away, when his tongue licked over his lip. “Can I come with?”

“Sure.” You grabbed his hand as you moved through the crowd, pushing between frat brothers and your sorority sisters who were all dancing together to the song. When you made it through the exit you sighed, the stale air of the stairwell even feeling better than that room.

“Fuck it was hot in there,” Harry said, your hand dropping from his. He followed you up the stairs and you nodded. You pushed open the door and a Doja Cat song was playing, some people upstairs scattered around, drinking and talking, some sitting on couches together. You waved to Maya, who seemed to have also needed a break, and nodded to the door as if to tell her you were getting some air.

“I’m going to smoke if that’s okay,” you told him as you made your way to the door, pulling your cigs and lighter from your back pocket.

He nodded. “Can I bum one?”

You opened the heavy oak door and said hello to the handful of guys sitting on the steps, who were manning the door and making sure no one random got in. “Sure,” you responded to Harry finally, sitting down on the concrete half wall that lined the landing. You could hear the slight thump of the music, but for the most part it was quiet, the the frat house a couple yards away not throwing anything tonight.

Harry leaned against the wall close to you, taking your offered cigarette. You flicked the lighter and raised it to your cigarette, taking a drag when it lit. Then you handed it to Harry, who accepted it gladly, doing the same. The smoke filled your lungs and your drunken mind considered that you should quit, but at the same time, you liked having something to do when you got air, an excuse to be on the steps. One of the other guys asked for one, and you handed one over, making a new friend.

And then you looked back to Harry. “So,” you said, tapping the ash on your cig. “How have you been?”

You hadn’t seen him since your last mixer with Beta, but you two hadn’t talked in ages. “Good,” he replied. “Busy with classes and stuff.”

“What are you studying again?”

“Political science,” he answered, and your eyebrows shot up. You had expected business or economics, like most of the Beta brothers.

“Why poli sci?”

He shrugged, tapping the ash before taking another drag. “Dunno, really. Took a class freshman year and liked it enough.”

“You don’t want to work in politics or something?”

“I don’t really know what I want to do, honestly.”

“You make it sound like that’s unusual,” you tell him. “Most people don’t.”

He chuckles, a low sound from the back of his throat, and you like the sound of it. “I’ll tell my dad that next time we talk.” You could tell there was a story there, but didn’t push. It wasn’t that kind of moment. “What about you?”

“Psych and pre-law,” you reply, the answer rolling off your tongue with ease.

“Oh? What kind of law?”

You took another drag before answering. “Criminal defense, but I want to work with people on death row.”

His eyes widen, just as you expected. It’s the usual response from people. “Fuck, that’s awesome. What made you interested in it?”

“I just got really into true crime when I was in middle school and ended up doing research on the criminal justice system and what a fucking disaster it is. Death sentences and death row especially. So I want to overturn false convictions.”

He puffed a cloud of smoke, and you watched his lips form a circle, a dark pink color that drew you in. “And you said most people don’t know what they want to do.”

A breeze made the hair on your arm hair stand up, and you rubbed the skin to warm up. It was cold tonight. “I’m unusual,” you told him. “Most of my friends have no idea what they’re doing after graduation.”

You had reached the end of your cigarette, so you dropped it to the ground and stamped it out, the combination of the nicotine and alcohol making your head deliciously hazy. “I’m going back in.”

Harry dropped his cigarette too, putting out the bud. “Lead the way.” He swiped his ID card on the door to let you both in, and you held the door for him, the sound of Post Malone sweeping through the house. “Want another drink?”

You mentally considered how drunk you were, came to the conclusion that you could take some more, and nodded. “White claw, please.” If you laid off the jungle juice you would last a bit longer, and you weren’t particularly wanting to get wasted tonight—you wanted to see where this went.

Harry nodded and walked towards the bar, while you turned to the group of girls closest to you, who were drinking juice and chattering amongst themselves. They immediately started asking you about Harry, about what was happening, and you shrugged because you truly didn’t know. “He’s hot,” one of them, a sophomore named Cat said. “You going to go for it?”

“If the opportunity presents itself,” you replied. You weren’t going to push with Harry, the last thing you wanted was to embarrass yourself in front of him. You’d follow his lead, see what he was interested in, matching his flirting and  see where it went. Not to say you weren’t forward, but you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable either. “What about you guys?”

Cat launched into an in-depth analysis of the weird flirtation she’d been having with a junior guy in Beta, how they’d hooked up once but not again, but he kept looking at her. You encouraged her to go for it if she wanted, and she grinned, perhaps just needing an extra push. All of a sudden, you felt a hand on your back, and Harry was next to you, a Black Cherry white claw in one hand, a Heineken in the other.

“If I’d know there were Heinekens I would’ve had that,” you told him, accepting your white claw.

His hair fell behind his shoulders when he tipped the beer back. “Most girls don’t like beer.”

“Well you’ve met one now.” You liked messing with him, dropping flirtations into the conversation and pushing buttons. It made him smirk at you and you loved it, the twinkle in his eyes and the pinkness of his lips.

“H.” A guy appeared behind Harry. “We’re out of vodka.”

“How are we out?” He asked, taking another sip of his beer.

The guy, a pledge from the looks of him, grimaced. “Someone took one of the bottles.”

“Fuck,” Harry said with a sigh. “Have one of the other pledges go get more and keep the receipt. Get more claws while you’re out, we’re running low.” With that, he turned back to you, exhaling sharply. The boy disappeared, sensing that was his cue.

Right as you were about to speak, you heard the opening notes of I Love It from downstairs, and you turned to the girls around you. “Downstairs,” you told them, and they all tossed back the rest of their drinks before tossing them into the trash can a few paces away. You opened the door to the basement and then looked back to Harry. “Coming?”

That made him move, following you down into the dark stairwell that smelled of stale beer and sweat. He stayed close to you, and when your foot slipped on a stair he reached out to steady you, a hand to your side that made your body warm with more than just the temperature of the room.  The girls in front of you streamed into the room, screaming the lyrics to the song.

“You’re such a fucking hoe/I love it!” You joined in, laughing at the lyrics in spite of yourself, but the truth is you fucking loved the song. It was absurd and was filthy, but you liked screaming the lyrics in a room with a bunch of your friends.

You twirled around and walked into the room backward, moving your body with the beat, taunting Harry to follow you. Which he did, as if connected to you by a magnet. You could see his lips moving, the lyrics falling from his lips to match you. You stopped moving in the middle of the room and Harry’s hands found your hips. Turning in his hands, a coy smile on your face, you knew what this song was going to involve. Hips moved on their own accord, grinding hard against him. You could feel his breath on your neck, the lyrics I’m a sick fuck/I like a quick fuck/I like my dick sucked/I’ll buy you a sick truck in your ear. Hearing the words on his lips for some reason had your blood pumping,  and you wanted to hear them again on a loop.

His dick was hard against your ass and your hands stretched behind you, finding his hips to hold him close. His head fell to your neck, nosing at your skin, his fingers on the bare skin at your waist clenching. Your hips moved in time  with each other, his body dropping to be at the height as yours, chasing the desire that was running between you. Your head tipped back against his chest and eyes fluttered shut, letting the alcohol in your veins and the music pounding in your ears take over. All you could feel was him, the cut of his body and the strength of his arms next to you, his hips insistently rubbing against yours and you couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to actually grind on him.

The song changed, Work Out by J. Cole sounding through the speakers and you pulled away from him and turned to face him. You were going to put on a bit of a show, you decided, because why the fuck not. It was clear at this point that he wanted you as much as you wanted him, so why pretend like anything else was happening?

So when the lyrics Let me see you get/High then go low/Now, girl won't you drop that thing down to the floor? fell through the speakers you dropped to the ground, Harry’s eyes following you came back up slowly, your body just inches from his. His hands fell on your body, grabbing at your waist to keep you close, pressing his hips forward to grind right over the front of your jeans and you panted from both the heat in the room and the pleasure ripping through your body. When the chorus came again, you dropped down, and this time you ran your hands down his legs lightly as you moved, fingers dancing down and then back up the seams of his jeans.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he said and you could barely hear him over the music.

His eyes met yours, searing into yours, a question passing between you. And then you were moving towards each other, an answer to the question in the way your lips met, slotted together and pulled at one another. Your hands were pulling at his shirt, grabbing at the material and the skin underneath, one of his hand holding your head close to his,  the other at your waist. It was fast and messy, your lip pulling on his bottom one, before chasing him, his tongue brushing at the seam of your lips before dipping inside.

Kissing Harry was hot. It was like setting your whole body on fire with desire and you just wanted to know what the rest of him felt like because his lips were sending you to another planet. He tugged on your bottom lip with his teeth and a moan escaped you, desperation clear in your throat. You could feel bodies press around you, the notes of Fire by Louis the Child ringing through the room. When the beat dropped, you knew people were jumping, the guys doing that thing where they slammed into each other like some kind of mosh. But Harry just stayed there, pulling his lips into yours, drawing wet pants from your body. He was holding tight to you as if you were going to slip away, even though that was the last place you wanted to go.

But you decided you wanted to tease him a bit more. Not let him get away, but just…push him a bit. So you drew away, enough to where you could dance, your sorority sisters at your back—you had seen Alexis move behind you. You grinding on her, your asses touching, and you could hear her laughter, before moving against you. It was something you two always did, dancing partners since the moment you met.

“If I go down in flames/The smoke going to spell my name,” you sang.

Harry watched you, his eyes burning a line down your body, the ministrations of your hips against Alexis’s. And then he was moving towards you, his front pressed yours and his lips were at your ear. “Drink?”

You nodded, and let him pull you through the crowd and towards the stairs. People were moving down them and you pressed yourself to the wall to let them pass, before following Harry up the stairs to the main floor. “Is there anything better than that shit?” You asked him when you stood next to him, his arm loosely around your waist, holding you to him.

His gaze drifted to the bar and then back to you. “I’ve got some stuff in my room.”

You knew he lived in the house, the result of being on exec last year and having first dibs after the current exec board was placed, the hierarchy the same as in your own sorority house. “Do you have mixers?” As much as you drank, you still hated drinking most straight alcohol, especially if you were going to be sipping on it. When he nodded, you replied, “Let’s go.”

You caught the eye of Emily who was standing on the other side of the room, watching you, and you pointed upstairs to tell her where you were going. After she gave you a thumbs up, letting you know she’d check in before leaving, a silent conversation well rehearsed over the years, you followed Harry up the stairs. Other guys and girls streamed down them, coming from rooms where they were smoking or using the bathroom or drinking just like you.

“What floor are you on?”  You asked when you passed the first floor, twisting to go up the second flight.

“Third,” he replied, not pausing no the stairs. “It’s quieter.”

That made sense, as you could imagine if he didn’t feel like partying one night it would be kind of hard to avoid. You followed him up, the sound of the music fading as you made your way higher into the frat house. You passed other girls on the way you exchanged hugs and promises to catch up after chapter on Monday night. Finally, you made it to the third floor, and Harry pushed open the door to a room with his name on it.

You followed him in and the first thing you noticed was how much of a boy’s room it was. Messy comforter, clothes on the floor, alcohol bottles lining the window sill, the frat’s flag above his bed. Some posters and photos littered the opposite wall, a single framed photo of what looked like his family on his dresser, along with some random items like cologne and a brush and hair ties. A pair of athletic shoes and boots were shoved into one corner, and a tub of protein powder sat on top of his mini-fridge, along with a stack of solo cups. On his desk was a bong and a couple of lighters, his computer sitting next to it on a charger. The dorm room was narrow, most of it taken up with a double bed that you were a bit confused by, since most rooms just had a single.  

“Sorry, it’s kind of a mess,” he said, shutting the door behind you. If you focused on it, you could hear nerves in his voice, a low laugh in the back of his throat as he surveyed his room. “Didn’t expect to have people up here.”

“It’s fine,” you told him, moving into the middle of the room to get out of the doorway, taking in the space.

“Uh, I’ve got Tito’s, Jack, some gin one of the guys got me.”

It drew you back to the whole reason you were in his room. He was standing next to his mini-fridge, a solo cup in his hand as he looked at you. “What mixers do you have?”

“Coke, juice, and tonic,” he replied. “Sorry, it’s not much.”

You shook your head. “Tito’s and tonic,” you told him. Usually you would’ve been all over the Jack and coke option, but considering how much you’d already drank the last thing you needed was to mix clear and dark liquors.

You watched him pour, leaning against his desk as you waited. He handed you the cup, asking you to try it and tell him if it was too strong. You took a sip and it was strong, but not too much. Then, he made a whiskey and coke you were jealous of, and the two of you stood in his room, not quite sure what to do. You didn’t want to go back down the party, the feeling of fresh air—even though it smelled vaguely like college boy, a mixture of sweat and cologne that you keenly recognized—feeling good on your skin.

“Want to listen to some music?” He asked, moving towards you. There was a bluetooth speaker on his desk, you realized,  and shifted away so he could get at his computer.  

You decided to sit on the bed, thighs resting on the soft comforter. “Sure.” You pulled your cigarettes and lighter from your back pocket, before looking back at him.

He fiddled with the speaker, the sound of it connecting ricocheting in the small room, before clicking keys to wake up his computer. “Any preferences?”

“I’m good with whatever,” you replied. “I like pretty much everything.” It was true, you had everything from country to Top 40s and rap on your Spotify, a variety of playlists to fit the mood.

He pulled on his bottom lip with his thumb and forefinger as he perused his Spotify and you tried not to focus on the sight. Low music began to sound in the room and you immediately recognized the beginning notes of Let Her Go by 6LACK,  a smile drifting onto your face. He must have noticed, because he turned around, his cup in his hand. “You like 6LACK?”

“More like obsessed,” you replied and he chuckled.

He sat on the edge of the desk, his knees falling open, his back slumped a bit. “I don’t know a single girl who even knows who he is.”

You took a sip of your drink before replying, resting your body back on one hand. “They must not have good music taste, then.”

Harry gave you a small smile, an edge of playfulness to it. “Where’s home for you?”

“Denver,” you responded. “You?”

“Holmes Chapel.”

“Where’s that?”

He brushed a hand through his hair, the long locks slipping between his fingers and you couldn’t help but wish you were the one doing it. “South of Manchester. It’s a small town, lots of fields and shit like that.”

You’d never been to England so you had no idea of where Manchester was, but you didn’t ask. “Do you like it?”

He shrugged. “It’s fine. I don’t want to like, move back or anything. But it’s a good place to go home to.”

Denver felt the same way to you—it was home, but it wasn’t a place you saw a future in. You’d go where law school took you, and then the work, wherever you could make the biggest impact. “Where do you want to go?”

The solo cup hung in his hands, and he twirled it a bit, the rim of the cup pressed between his fingers. “LA, maybe. New York. Not sure, really. London, most likely, unless I can get a job and someone to sponsor my Visa so I can stay.”

“Do you like the states?” You knew you were asking a lot of questions, but you’d never had a conversation like this with him and you were curious. Curious about him, about who he was, underneath all the frat shit that he loved so much.

“It’s different than home,” he replied, and you understood what he meant. “I don’t think I’ll want to be here forever, but it’s good for right now. Got friends here now.”

You took another sip of your drink, and then pushed yourself up, the need to pee suddenly overtaking your body. “Where’s the bathroom?”  

“Down the hall. Make sure you slam on the door before locking it—it got fucked up during homecoming and hasn’t been the same ever since.”

You nodded and took your cup with you, four years of college ingraining some lessons into your bones. Down the hall, you found a blond wood door and a doorknob that was barely attached to the door. You pushed it open and shut it quickly, shoving against it with your shoulder so that you could flip the lock. Inside, you wondered for the millionth time why boys were in capable from having a properly stocked bathroom. Head & Shoulders shampoo littered the floor of the shower,  a flimsy shower curtain that had come free from a couple of the rings. You squatted to pee, grabbing the toilet paper roll that sat on top of the toilet, no one even bothering to properly put it away.

As you peed, you scrolled through your phone. Mallory had texted saying she was going bar hopping with some of her friends and you told her to text you if she needed anything and a heart, before checking her on Find My Friends to see she was, in fact at a bar. Then you texted your group chat with Emily and Alexis and Maya, who had asked how you were doing. You told them you were with Harry and most likely going to be here for a while, which got excited responses and Alexis sent the eggplant emoji, which made you snort. They told you to text you if you ended up staying the night so they could keep track of where you were, which you agree to do.

When you went to wash your hands, you rolled your eyes because of course they couldn’t even buy hand soap. You went to the shower and found a bottle of body wash, and squirted some into your hands before going back to the sink, rinsing them off. Then you looked at your face in the mirror, eyeliner and mascara still in tact, but your hair was a disaster. You pulled the bun free and let your hair tumble down your back, running through it with your fingers to calm the strands that were askew.

Standing the mirror, you had the opportunity to consider your choices. Did you want to hook up with Harry? Yes. That was a clear answer, despite your alcohol-hazed mind. Did he want to? Most likely—every indication had pointed towards yes. So your mind was made up as you pulled the door open and made your way back to his room, your phone tucked into your jeans and solo cup in your hand.

“You guys really need soap.”

He was still sitting on the edge of his desk, scrolling through his phone and sipping on his drink when you came into the room. At the sight of you, he put his phone down. “I know—it’s fucking disgusting. I have my own, though. Sorry for not sharing.”

You set your cup on his dresser, deciding you were done, and moved towards him. “It’s fine. I made do.” His eyes trailed down your front, the sexual tension thick in the room. When he pulled his bottom lip into his mouth and chewed on it, you decided fuck it you were done waiting.

You crossed the space between the two of you in second, slotting yourself between his knees. His hands found your waist immediately, his solo cup moving to rest on the table once your body was pressed to his. Without pausing, you pressed your lips to his, reconnecting them in a fire—you needed him, you wanted him, you craved his hands on your skin. Now that you were alone, it was like you couldn’t hold yourself together and neither could he. His hands moved up and down your back, tugging you into his chest as your hands curled in his long hair. Lips fought for dominance, teeth tugging and tongues pressing for more. When he licked into your mouth a wet moan left your lips and you pressed into the crotch of his pants without even meaning to.

6LACK was still flowing through the speaker, and the smooth RnB just adding to the desire rolling through your body. When his lips dropped to your neck, sucking and biting on your skin, a desperate, filthy noise fell from your mouth and you couldn’t help but smile when Harry grunted into you. “I—fuck,” he mumbled, squeezing at your hips.

Suddenly your clothes were too warm, burning against your skin. You leaned back and pulled at the hem of your tank top, pulling it up over your head and letting it fall to the floor. Harry’s eyes went wide, blown out irises from alcohol and desire criss-crossing over your body. “You can touch me,” you said, confidence coursing through your veins and just desperate for him to do something.

He didn’t hesitate, pulling you back into him and attaching his mouth to the swell of your breast, right above the lace of your bra. Hot breath on your skin had you keening into him, back arching up into his mouth, your fingers tugging into his hair. You loved his hair, having something to hold onto and anchor yourself, and from the pleased hums he liked it too. His hands fumbled with your bra clasp, and when he got it free and pulled the material away, he pulled your nipple into his mouth and you audibly sighed. When he sucked on it, then laved over it with his tongue you couldn’t help but buck into him. You were putty in his arms and he had barely done anything.

Your hands pulled at his shirt, the desire to see his skin overwhelming you. He didn’t make you wait, helping you tug it over his head, and let it drop to the floor. Black ink scattered across his skin, words and images that made a million questions swirl in your mind. The G on his shoulder, the ship on his bicep, the name Jackson scrawled above a rose, the swallows across his collarbones and a butterfly on his stomach. He sat there, chest heaving as he caught his breath and your fingers brushed his skin, curiosity getting the better of you.

“Y/N,” he rasped, “bed?”

“Yes.” The word fell from your lips with ease, and he was backing you into it immediately, hands in your hair and lips on yours. Your bare chests touching sent you into overdrive, the brush of your nipples on his warm skin, a sheen of sweat covering both of you from dancing all night.

The comforter was plush underneath your back as you scrambled up the length of his bed, his body following yours immediately. Your legs fell apart so he could fit between you, and when he did, his dick rested right against your clothed clit and it made you gasp. “Feel good?” He mumbled, the words a haze in your ears as he plucked your lips between his.

All you could do was buck up, your knees finding either side of him. You wanted to be on top, to be in control. You wanted to grind on him properly, after waiting for so long. With a hand at his chest, you pushed slightly, enough for him to move back. He must have understood what you wanted because he flopped onto the bed next to you, one hand on either of your thighs and you mounted him, your ass sitting on the top of his thighs.

When you moved your center over his dick, both of you groaned, deep and drawn out, your head thrown back in pleasure. It was bliss, after so much waiting, to finally be able to do this, his hands crawling from your thighs to your hips to hold you in place, exactly where he wanted you. You put your hands on his chest to hold yourself up, and let your hips find a sinful rhythm, one that was making pleasure curl in your stomach. Pants left your mouth, matched by Harry, who was watching you as if you were a fucking art exhibit, eyes trying to take in every inch of you. Fingernails curled into his skin, red marks that you expected to be there tomorrow, when he nudged at your clit, and you rubbed that spot a few more times, his name falling from your lips in a beg. “Harry.”

That had him moving, pulling your lips down to his so he could kiss you again, his fingers cradling the back of your head. It was just rough enough where you were scrambling to catch up and it felt good, that this was consuming every part of your brain. You rolled your hips again, your hands pressing into the pillow under his head. Then, you felt his thighs agains your ass, and he was pushing up into you, making him snugly flush against you, the only thing between you two being your clothes.

Which you wanted off, and wanted off now. You moved back, crawling between his legs, and his eyes followed you, panting as he watched you pop the button on his pants. He lifted his hips to help you and you tugged the tight skinny jeans that showed every inch of his thickness underneath them down his legs. Then, you pulled on his briefs, and he was bare in front of you, exactly as you wanted him. Your jeans were constricting your movement so you turned tot he side, pulling the denim off of your body so you were left in your underwear.

Then you were on him again, but this time, it was your hand on his dick, fingers running up the length of him.

“Fuck,” he said, voice husky in your ears. He was gorgeous underneath you, desperation making his eyebrows crease, his long hair a mess on the pillow. Why had you waited so long to act on this desire? You suddenly couldn’t remember.

He watched you spit onto his most sensitive part, and then slide your hand over him, spreading the moisture. He hissed at the feeling and you knew you wouldn’t be able to last long here—he was already hard, his tip red and throbbing. The fact that you had him this turned on and you’d barely done anything made your ego soar, to be honest. You pumped him three times before licking up the underside of him, his hands curling in the comforter, a stream of curses falling from his lips.

When you took him into your mouth, a low, rough grunt filled the room and you smiled. You hollowed your cheeks and immediately took him all the way into your mouth, resisting the urge to gag when he hit the back of your throat. “Shit,” he rasped. “You—shit.”  

You’d done what you were about to give him just a handful of times before, only with people who you knew you would feel pleasure from too when they did it, and trusted. And Harry fit both of those categories, because he could fucking smile and you’d want to fuck him. So you grabbed his hand and placed it on the back of your head, before taking him all the way to the back of your throat. Your mouth was full of him and it felt so good.

“Want me to fuck your mouth?” His eyes were glimmering in the light, completely focused on you. You were happy you had left the lights on, because it meant you could every inch of him, every reaction you drew from him.

In response, you licked at his tip, hoping he knew that meant yes.

He seemed to, because he curled his fingers into your hair and pushed his hips up, his tip hitting your throat immediately. You groaned around his dick and he cursed at the vibrations. Then, he kept his hips on the bed and instead pulled you up and down him, fucking your mouth just as you had wanted. You couldn’t do much from this position, so you focused on inhaling through your nose and running your hands over his skin, scratching at the butterfly on his torso. Leaving reminders of this night, of you, on his body.

“Shit,” he mumbled, pulling you off. “I—I have to stop. But, shit, you feel so good, babe.”

The pet name made you smile, sitting back on your heels to wipe at your mouth, the taste of his salty precum still on your tongue. “Do you have a condom?” You asked, because all that you had done had left you more than ready—you needed him inside of you.

Harry’s eyes went wide and he scrambled up. “Fuck,” he exhaled, grabbing at his desk drawer and pulling it open. Watching him look through his drawers completely naked was, you had to admit, a bit amusing, but you kept your thoughts to yourself. He wrenched another drawer open, tossing the contents about as he looked. Then he sighed, and looked back at you. “I’m out.”

“Go find one,” you told him, leaning back against the wall, letting your knees drop open to show your underwear. You could feel the wet spot on them and you knew he saw it too. “I’ll wait here.”

“Yeah, okay, I’ll—yeah I’ll find one.” He pulled on his jeans, not even bothering with his briefs, eyes flickering to you every once and a while. “Shit, I’ll—I’ll be back.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at how flustered he was, pushing open his door and letting it slam shut behind him. Through the door you could hear him knocking on the door next to his, some muffled words, and then him knocking again. He was going fucking door to door looking for a condom, you realized with amusement. Then, the patter of feet on the stairs, and you knew he was going downstairs, that no one else was in their rooms.

While you waited, you grabbed your phone and scrolled through it. Caught up on texts, liked shit on Instagram, checked Snapchat even though you barely used the app. Most people were at bars, as far as you could tell, but it looked like they’d set back up pong downstairs according to Emily’s story.

All of a sudden, feet pounded on the stairs and you knew it was Harry. You pushed your phone back onto the desk, and when the door opened, he was standing there holding probably ten condoms. “How many did you get?”

He looked down at the wad in his hand and visibly blushed. “I—I thought I’d re-stock.”

You let it slide, even though you knew exactly why he got so many. He was hoping you’d have a couple rounds, and  you were not opposed to the idea. “Come here,” you said, and let your legs fall back open.

He was on you in second, his pants kicked down his legs as he moved and you were surprised he didn’t trip. Hands found your skin and he pushed you up the bed, this time he was the one hovering over you, lips drawing eager mewls from you. You pressed your hips into his unclothed erection and he cursed, a grimace crossing his face that you knew was from him restraining himself. “Can I take these off?” He asked, fingers pulling at your underwear.

“Please,” you replied and that made him smile at you. He peeled them down your legs, tossing them to the ground, a forgotten memory. Then he brushed a finger over your slit and you gasped, cool touch sending waves of pleasure through you. “Need you.” The two words made his head snap up from where he was looking at your pussy, eyes connecting with yours.

“I was going to go down on you,” he said, and although the thought was tantalizing, you needed him inside of you.

You shook your head. “Later.”

Harry wasn’t complaining. He grabbed one of the condoms from his desk and ripped it open, rolling it down his dick with a concentrated gaze. Then, he crawled up your body, reconnecting your lips, and you both sighed at the feeling of his dick rolling against your center. “Okay?” He asked, pulling away just a hair to check in.

“Please,” you begged, and that had him moving immediately.

He tugged one of your legs around his waist, and then he gripped his dick, brushing his tip to your slit once, twice, three times. On the third time, though, he pressed in, and your wetness accepted him immediately, allowing him to push in about halfway before he stopped.

It burned a bit—mainly just from his size, which was bigger than most other guys you’d been with. You hands scrambled across his chest, grabbing at his skin, struggling to get your breathing under control. “You’re big,” you said, unable to stop the words that fell from your lips.

A cocky smile drifted over his face and you mentally kicked yourself for adding to his ego. “Can I move?” He asked though and you nodded. His head bobbed down, and you realized he was watching where you two were connected as he pulled back and then pushed in all the way. A choked moan left your mouth and a similar one sounded from Harry’s, although his had a string of curses attached. “Fuck, you’re tight,” he rasped, hands adjusting so they were next to your head, his face above yours. “Fuck.”

You were about to tell him to move when he did it on his own accord, pulling out and back into you, the impact making your body shift on the comforter. There was a very real possibility of you having sore legs tomorrow, but you really didn’t give a fuck because he felt so good. “Holy shit,” you babbled, those words the only ones you could find as he thrusted in and out of you, finding a rhythm that made you both pant with pleasure.

Sounds drifted out of you without you even realizing, something that always happened when you had drunk sex. You couldn’t control yourself as much, unable to process how loud you were being, what you were saying. Looking back you couldn’t even remember exactly what you had said, but you knew it was a mess of curses and his name and God and just pants and mewls that were feeding Harry like a fucking three course meal.

He loved your sounds, used them to figure out what you liked, where to move and shift. You could tell because when you’d let out a sharp gasp he’d say, “Yeah, there? That’s the spot?” and drive in and out of you, hitting your g-spot perfectly with every move of his hips. Your hands were clutching at his hair as he thrusted into you, your ankles hooked around his lower back, and your body was desperate for release.

But you could also tell he was not going to last. His eyes were heavy, eyelids drawing shut with pleasure, fingers curling in the pillow next to you. Shoulders tensing and abdomen tight as he swiveled his hips, a broken moan falling between you. “Close,” he finally said, and dropped down to his elbows, so his face hovered above yours, only a hair away. “You feel so good, shit, oh my god—how do you feel so good?” His words were broken and that made them even better, that he had no control over what he was saying.

“Want you to come,” you babbled, “want to feel it, come on Harry, come for me, please, I need it.”

“Holy fuck—“ that had him snapping into you, hips slapping against yours, the sound of skin on skin overpowering the music that still played in the background. You gripped his shoulders when his head hung in the crook of your shoulder, and you knew he was about to come.

So you said one more thing. “I need you to come, Harry, please.” The words came out as a beg, exactly as you intended. His hips were stuttering immediately, curses falling between you like a broken record, repeating over and over again as he shot into the condom. He smattered kisses on your shoulder as he collapsed into you, sweat sticking to your skin.

He laid there for a second, panting, and you didn’t mind, even though you desperately needed to come. Perhaps it was how you clamped down on him, or you shifted your hips to feel slightly more of him, but Harry seemed to figure out what you needed. He lifted his head, took one look at you, and then pulled out, ripping off the condom and tossing it into his trash before crawling down your legs.

When his tongue licked your slit, you mewled his name, your hands moving into his hair immediately. You tugged and pulled on it as he licked over you, drawing circles that pulled desire from your flesh. And then he went inside, darting his deftly skilled tongue into you and practically thrusting it into you. His thumb brushed across your nub and you let our a shuddering moan, bucking up into his face. You were close—insanely close—the combination of his tongue inside of you and the thumb on your nub drawing you closer and closer to the edge.

“Harry,” you rasped, voice broken from panting. “I’m close.”

He seemed double his effort, tongue moving in and out of you at double time, his thumb brushing a brutal pace over you. You were twisting in his arms, hips bucking, curses leaving your lips. And when he pulled his thumb away and sucked on your clit, that’s when you came, in a mess of his name and broken gasps, choking on air. Your fingers curled tightly in his hair, anchoring his face to your center as you came, bucking up into him. He didn’t mind though, he just held your hips and took it, licking at you to draw out all of your aftershocks. Your eyes squeezed shut and your mind was a mess, swirling without the ability to grasp onto a single thread of thought, just a mess under his lips.

When you finally regained the ability to breathe, you pulled your hands from his hair and he sat up. You watched in awe as he licked his lips, gathering your juice, and swallowed them, a smile on his face. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re really good at that?”

He gave you a cocky expression and then flopped down next to you. “They have, in fact.”

“Good. I’d be concerned about the other girls if they hadn’t.”

He laughed, and then pulled you into his body. You were surprised at his desire to cuddle, but you weren’t mad. “You can stay if you want. There’s people downstairs still and it’s cold out.”

You propped your head up on his shoulder. “There’s also all those condoms.”

“That’s true. Wouldn’t want them to go to waste.”

You trailed your fingers up his torso. “Might have to just stay the whole weekend if we’re trying to use them all.”

His eyebrows quirked, but he wasn’t mad at the prospect. “Wanna be my study break for the weekend?”

You smirked, leaning up to quickly peck his lips. “As long as you’re mine.”

He hauled your body on top of his and curled his fingers into your hair. “We’ll get your shit in the morning, then.”

“It’s a deal.” You kissed him, lips slotting against one another, slower and less hurried than before, but that same undercurrent of desire stringing between you two. You were already grinding into him, hips brushing over his as you moved.

Suddenly, a pounding sound came from the door, and you froze. “Fuck off!” Harry called, pulling the comforter that had ended up at the bottom of the bed over the two of you.

“Fuck—sorry—I need a condom, man.” The words were muffled, but you heard them all the same.

Harry snorted, and you couldn’t help but laugh. “Go ask Nick,” he replied, “and leave me the fuck alone.” His hands grabbed at you, kneading into your ass, and you licked at his nipple.

It was going to be a long weekend.

SEND ME CONCEPTS ABOUT Y/N AND HARRY!

[cuebooks]

A Night of the Lonely

Main Character: Alastair Carstairs

Series: No, but two parts separated by: {}{}{}{}{}

Word count: 2,542

Reading time: 3-5 minutes

Any questions? Ask them in a reblog or in the comments and I’ll happily answer them

Hope you enjoy!

The cold winds caused Alastair’s skin to prickle and flush red with the bitter temperatures. He had taken these roads every night for the past week to find his father in the rundown bar. Sipping whatever drink infatuated him that night.

Alastair wanted to head home and see if Elias could make it alone. If he could survive in this cold without Alastair. But Cordelia was tucked in her bed. Her soft snores echoing from her bedroom to his ears. He and Sona had finally read her to sleep, getting her just calm enough to slip into it. She was waiting for Elias. So was Maman. They wanted to see him in the morning.

So he continued on. Letting his cheeks get whipped by the winds. His hands shivering in the pockets of his maroon coat. His favorite coat that Cordelia picked out for him. It showed off his complexion and his beautiful eyes, his Maman had said. He always wore it during these treks to remind himself that someone cared for him. It was his armor against his father.

He walked into the rundown bar, a mix of discolored woods, a lively hearth, and soft chattering from the small crowd filling it. He looked up to the bartender that was maybe a foot or more taller than him. Her hair tied back into a plait allowed him to see her face. “He’s over there, Alastair. Be careful; he’s had more than usual tonight. I took the last drink away from him, and he….”

“It’s okay. Thank you, Anira. How much do I owe you?”

“Nothing.”

Alastair stared up at her. Her features soft and shaded from the light of the flames. “I can pay, I promise. Besides, I don’t want you to get in trouble again.”

The look in her eyes told him she wasn’t going to say anything, so instead, he handed her a few bills that were more than enough. “Plus tip.” He grinned, showing his missing tooth on the left side of his mouth. He had lost it two days before, an achievement that made him proud; his mother smile, and Cordelia gag. She only offered a smile and said thank you.

As she walked away, he heard her mumble something along the lines of ‘he shouldn’t have to.’ He didn’t ask for her to repeat it. He’d heard it before. He knew he shouldn’t have to fill a role other than big brother and child, but he did. What was he supposed to do? Let his mother and sister handle Elias? No. At least it only hurt him. At least he could protect someone.

He found his father on the same stool as yesterday. His hair a mess, and his jacket off, strewn somewhere. His beard had started to grow back, and Alastair made a mental note to help him shave later.

His feet made small sounds against the wood, his weight not enough to make much noise. He placed a hand on his father’s, and Elias looked at him and smiled. “Esfandiyār!” He slurred, and Alastair wanted to step back. But he didn’t. Maman and Cordelia, he repeated in his head. He did this for them. For their happiness. Besides, Elias wasn’t as bad as he could have been. He seemed happier than he had earlier in the day.

“Come on. I want you to read me a bedtime story. Like you used to.” His voice was soft and warm, mimicking the way his mother spoke when she was reading them bedtime stories or in her children’s blanket forts.

“You’re old enough to read on your own. Let me finish this.” Elias said, staring into the bottom of his glass filled with a tinted brown liquid.

“Cordelia wants you to read to her.” Alastair tried again; usually, her name helped catch his attention more than his own. He didn’t know if it was because she was younger, his little daughter with her bright smile, or if he favored her. Maybe it was simply because she wasn’t the child in front of him. Elias set down the glass at her name, and turned— falling off his stool— and headed for the door. Alastair righted the stool, thanked the bartender, and left. His short legs falling behind.

Elias started to wander down the street aimlessly as if he didn’t know where he had come from. “This way,” Alastair waved him over, and Elias straightened his back. The cold wind righting him. Or alerting him. “Did you know brother Zachariah has a meeting in town soon? I could summon him if…” Elias only gave him a disapproving glare. Elias did everything to keep Alastair and Cordelia away from Jem. Maybe because he had left Jem. Maybe Jem— Zachariah, Alastair corrected himself, knew that their father wasn’t alright.

Elias told Alastair stories about the silent brothers— how they crept into your mind and tore into you and corrupted your sanity. Alastair knew it wasn’t true, but the seeds had already been planted, and the vines only continued to grow. But still, Zachariah was family. Alastair always asked the angel to protect him when he heard of his travels. He recalled the kind stories he heard of him, hoping one day to carry the Carstairs name half as well as he did. Kindness, open-mindedness, and honesty, he thought. That’s what makes Zachariah amazing, along with his never-ending love and strength. Never-ending love Alastair remembered. Love the man in front of me.

So with love in his fragile heart, he slowed down and held his father’s hand. “I don’t need your help. I can make it home just fine. I’m not you,” Elias grumbled and pulled his hand away from Alastair’s, and stalked ahead down the wrong street.

Another piece of his heart broke off. He wondered how many were left. How much more could his father break his heart?

Alastair looked at his father ahead, “I only wanted to hold your hand,” he whispered. The cold wind whistling over his quiet words.

The door unlocked, and Alastair held it open for his father.

Elias walked in and stumbled a bit to a table pressed against a foyer wall, but it was barely noticeable if it hadn’t been Alastair who was watching. His father was good at hiding when he drank too much; of course, he always pushed his own limits. But Alastair knew him too well. Watched it happen too often. He had to. It’s how he knew when to pull Cordelia and Maman from him and distracted them when Elias went too far. Like always, he fixed himself a drink, and Alastair went to fetch water to refill the liquor that had been poured.

The only footfall was from Alastair’s tiny feet. He couldn’t hide their sound. He was too tired, too— he should have been in bed hours ago.

He went to the couch and found his father asleep. Snoring softly like Cordelia did. He smiled a little at the reminder that Elias was a father to Cordelia; people could tell— she looked like him and Maman. Alastair had always been happy he garnered his looks from his mother’s side— at least, that’s what Maman had always said.

Alastair slowly moved to sit on the floor by his father’s hand and pried the glass from his grip, and returned the glass to the table. He took the water he collected and poured it into the alcohol bottle along with the remaining liquor from the short glass. Filling the bottle so no one would notice the sunken level.

Alastair pulled a blanket from the closet and carried it to the couch, laying it on the floor and pulling Elias off the couch carefully. A small thud of his father’s body to the blanket made Alastair look around to make sure Cordelia hadn’t woken up. He pulled the corners of the blanket off the floor and tugged. Tugged the blanket into the guest room, through the halls, and past the stairs.

Alastair eventually got him on the bed. The covers pulled to his father’s feet.

Alastair had finally untied his father’s shoes and placed them under the bed. Undoing his shirt next, spraying a scent to cover up the sour smell his father radiated from the night before. Alastair knew you didn’t smell drunk until the next day when you started to sweat it out. He sighed— he hated that he knew that.

He changed Elias’s pants next. His mother hated when people slept in items that had been worn outside to bed— the distinct smell of dirt, she passed the disdain onto Alastair.

He set down a glass bowl filled with water. And slowly grabbed a razor and shaving soap. Dabbing Elias’s face with a washcloth wet with warm water. Elias only groaned.

Alastair gently lathered the soap onto his face. Shaving where his father preferred. Gentle and with the grain. Never nicked or cut. Perfect like it had to be. And wiped the rest off with the cloth.

Alastair’s hands were tired as he shakily poured the water out as he was tired and barely tall enough to see over the counter to the bathroom sink.

He reset the bowl under the sink—the razor on the side of it, next to the shaving soap.

When he returned to the bedroom he placed the covers over his father. “Night, baba. Sleep well and have only good dreams.” He crawled back off the bed, careful to close the door behind him quietly. He left the water on the nightstand and moved back to the couch. He picked up the bottle of alcohol and placed it back where it belonged. The sun hadn’t started to rise, but as he moved to the steps, he saw the moon passed halfway across the sky. He wished there was a rune to transport him instantly to his room, under his soft blankets.

The stairs were quiet underfoot. But something stopped him in the halls— Cordelia.

Cordelia stepped out from her door and looked at Alastair.

“Layla? What’s wrong?” He asked, moving beside her.

“I’m thirsty, Ali.” She whimpered as she rubbed her eyes. Her hair was falling out of the braid their mother had styled.

“Come on, Layla.” He offered her his hands, and she jumped to him, giggling lightly as he picked her up. Her small frame was easy to hold for him. As he walked to her bed, she asked him, “may we play ‘save the castle’ tomorrow? You always play a great knight. Always so protective and kind.” She giggled as she struggled to say the words coherently at her young age. Their mother taught them big words, working with their speech every day like she had when she learned English. She was determined to make them perfectly fluent in Farsi and English, among a few other languages.

Alastair tucked her back in. “I’ll get you some water, and of course, we can play ‘save the castle’ tomorrow, but you have to sleep.” She nodded softly as she recrawled under her sheets and smiled at him. He slipped out of her room, saying he’d be right back.

He didn’t want to make her wait, so he went to his room, where he had a few glasses of water for Layla. She always did this. Sometimes knocking on his door for help. His hair was a darker red than hers for now. He knew it would turn black soon, and he was excited about it. He would look more like his mother and his mother’s parents— something his mother told him to be proud about. He hoped he would always be proud to be Persian.

He placed the glass on the nightstand. “There you go, Layla, be careful; it’s only a glass. There is no lid.” She smiled at him and grabbed the glass. She was slowly drinking the water. Then carefully placed it back.

“Thank you, dadash.” She cuddled back under her blankets, and he kissed her forehead like their mother always did. He sang her a short lullaby in Farsi. His voice carrying around the room, and her eyelids became heavy.

“Sleep tight, Layla.” He let go of her hand.

“Sleep tight, Ali!” She whispered.

He closed her door again and passed his mother’s a few doors down, and checked on her. Her deep sleep let his heart settle a bit more. And he moved on to a dark room, where he lit a candle. His father’s study. He opened a book and looked at the latest news of silent brothers. His father had some connections, and Alastair had written to them and asked about Zachariah. He knew if his father found out, he’d threaten to kill Jem, but Alastair couldn’t help it. Jem was a Carstairs. He was family. He read over the latest news. Jem had just gone off to London again for William Herondale, claiming that Gabriel had demon pox. He shook his head and laughed softly.

Mr. Herondale had the dedication he had to admit. But Jem had made it there, safe. He smiled, happy Jem was okay. He put the book away and pulled out another piece of paper— to write a letter to Mr. Herondale. Asking, just like his father would have, when Cordelia could see Lucie again. Cordelia missed her and Lucie’s family. Alastair had to admit he missed them too. He always laughed and felt happy in London. Not the place but the people that surrounded him. He admitted that he also liked how the Herondales and Mrs. Gray were buffers between his father and his family. Cordelia had been asking, and he could tell Maman wanted to get out of the city. So he wrote. Over and over— perfecting his handwriting, his diction, his grammar. Making everything perfect.

He placed it in an envelope and left it for Raisa. She would send it off in the morning. He scrambled off the chair. Lowering his feet off one at a time since they couldn’t reach the floor while sitting yet.

After doing some of his father’s work, he left the office, and the sun had started to rise. He huffed softly and frowned but shook his head and moved toward his room. He could get a few hours before he had to wake up and help Raisa get breakfast ready.

Maybe tomorrow, his heart will heal, and his father will help put it back together— not destroy it. But he knew better than to give himself false hope. He knew better than to trust the man that was weak. That had put the weight of the family on Alastair’s shoulders instead of holding it himself.

He pulled the covers over himself. His maman, sister, and father were all tucked away by him, and yet he sat in the dark room. Alone. No light. Wishing for hope.

But he knew better.

Just one more day, he said. Like he had for the past several months.

The shadowhunter academy, he thought. Just make it there, and you’ll be okay, he whispered into the dark.

He hummed himself a lullaby his mother taught him, and when he finished, he drifted off to sleep. His tired bones and aching heart settling into the mattress. Accepting the dark.

Tag List: @itsjusta-j-really @magigingercal @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1

(Let me know if you want to be added or taken off, please)

[bitchassbucky]

.eps (explicit)

Word Count: 2k

Warning/s: dark!bucky x dark!reader, MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, blood mention, gore and dismemberment/beheading, murder, toxic/abusive relationship dynamics, sedation/drugging/use of sedative, stockholm syndrome-ish, one very special character reveal

A/N: i told y'all there's more <3 the special character treat is for @sarge-barnes-sir mwah!

this is queued shdhhsh gonna fix the links in the mornin’

PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS ABOVE, IF YOU DON'T WANT TO READ THIS VERSION, GO AND CHECK OUT THE NON-EXPLICIT VERSION.

follow the CTRL series:

i - .exe

ii - .avi

iii - .raw

iv - .png

v - .zip

CTRL playlist CTRL moodboard

Safeness, comfortability, warmth are all but a false sense of reality.

When a prey takes down its walls, the predator moves in. Camouflaged in familiar colors, in words that you’re used to hearing, in praises, in lies. Most predators use the mask of the night to move in darkness—unyielding and calculated. Come morning, there will be only one left alive, tainted with victory and bloodshed.

You and Bucky have been engaging in a dance for two—a battle of who’s willing to take the leap of faith and unleash hell upon the other.

Stifled smiles and pursed lips.

The air is filled with unsaid irritants, little things that ticked away like bombs.

There was no time for pleading, no time for mercy, no rest for the wicked.

Did you still love each other?

How far are you willing to go to keep up with his… complacency?

Bucky’s mundane life already taking a toll on you. The endless nightmares of him feeling you. The swirling vision of Bucky being with you every waking—and sleeping—moment: it grates your soul to shreds.

“We’ll be together forever, right?”

“Yes, darling.”

“What about the day after forever?”

“That too, honey.”

Where was the man you loved so deeply? The man that broke his morals just to be with you?

Was he under this hull of a Yes Man? A poor little thing that says ‘yes’ to everything like a puppy.

The man you held so dearly now slipping away, chipping his humanity, shedding the once-human.

“Would you marry me tomorrow if I asked you?”

“Of course, baby, why wouldn’t I?”

“Would you kill for me?”

“I’m meant to do the same for you.”

It’s irritating how Bucky gave up too quickly. Too fast, moving too fast. The gazelle let the lion tear its neck as it lay there, unmoving, letting the blood seep into its hide.

When you first met Bucky, it was your own fairytale unfolding before your eyes. Kismet, reality, forgiveness from above. He was soft and shy, passionate, lively.

Far from what you expected from a man his age—you blame Steve for forcing you into his narrative before. That all men are out to get you. They will hurt you. They will use you and leave you for good. But Bucky? Bucky came in like a knight. He saved you from the carcass of your past. He saved you from the sins that you prayed and knelt for.

Bucky taught you how to love.

Bucky taught you how to live for yourself.

Bucky taught you that being alone doesn’t mean you have to be lonely.

“It was an unspoken little thing, wasn’t it?”

“What thing, baby?”

“Our love.”

“Yes, honey, it was.”

He worships you.

He worships you like a fucking God and you hate it.

Suffocating, too suffocating. You dove straight for the water and now you’re drowning.

Do you still love each other? The question hangs in the air, heavy with its weight, light as a feather.

It’s all your fault. It’s all your fault. It’s all your fault. It’s all your fault.

So you stand there with a syringe half-filled with a horse sedative. It’s a concern how easy it is to waltz into a pet store and pick up a general anesthetic. You make a mental note to look at it later.

Bucky’s body slumps forward, his forehead meeting the edge of the table with a dull thud. If the overdose doesn’t kill him, the weeping crack in his head will.

Holy fuck, humans bleed a lot. And fast. Good thing you already have that clear tarp taped down. Even with the hush money stuffed down your throat, it would take a good nick to regrout the kitchen.

“What is that for, honey?”

“I’m painting the cabinets.”

“Okay, darling.”

So you let him bleed, surprised that the liquid is redder than what you thought it would be. A soft gurgling noise came from Bucky, the last of air escaping his dead body. You stood there, syringe in hand, as you thought how to dispose of a six-foot-tall man without arousing suspicion.

Not that he’ll be missed anyway: the local news and the internet already branded him as a psycho and you as a victim. You were both victims in this fairytale. They reported his case as “skipped the town like the sicko he is.” So, no—no one’s going to look for him.

The sun was high up in the sky and there was a dead body in your kitchen.

A butcher and a surgeon walks into a bar for a drink. “What do you do for a living?” Said the butcher, “I save lives! What about you?” The doctor answers. “I save animals from dying slowly. We’re basically the same. You’re just very clean.” You see, the butcher comes into the bar covered in blood, reeking of death. The surgeon, on the other hand, wears his white coat with pride even though he’s surrounded by death every passing second.

Today was the day you learned that you have the tools of a butcher and the precision of a surgeon. Unlike before.

You carefully take Bucky’s fingers off of his left hand, leaving a skin flap on the edge of the last knuckle for you to stitch close later. Four promises. Four goddamn promises and he broke all of them.

It was his fault that he’s dead. He made you do this.

Starting with his left shoulder, you jab the knife between the bone and the soft flesh of his armpit, bringing the blade downwards. The sickening smell of blood swirled along with the image of muscle and fat being sliced made you gag.

Does the brain know that it’s seeing something it shouldn’t?

A rational part of you wanted to look away but the time is ticking, it’ll be much harder once rigor mortis sets in an hour.

You swing the knife down, cracking the bone once, and then again, and again, and again until the shoulder bone splinters and dislocates itself from the rest of Bucky’s torso. You had to switch knives and blades and a fucking bone saw to get through the rest of his limbs, leaving only his chest, head, and stomach untouched. After taping up and packing the arms and the legs, you work on putting the rest of Bucky into a nondescript suitcase.

The only problem being his head getting into the way of things.

Wanting to preserve even a shred of his dignity, you left his face untouched. Well, save from the crack in his skull.

You begrudgingly take a hefty chef’s knife and start cutting through the jugular vein, only stopping when the blade hits the spinal cord by his nape. The serrated blade of the bone saw sits on your blood-soaked gloves, scrape-scrape-scraping until it snaps into two.

The human head weighs around 10 pounds, kinda like a bowling ball.

An opaque black garbage bag containing Bucky’s head looks nothing suspicious as you put it inside a backpack—into a firepit you go.

His limbs—arms and legs alike—are going deep into the ocean, forgotten and to be used as fish food.

The limbless torso will be finding its home in a deep hole in the middle of a densely wooded area, far from the city.

But you’re not quite sure what to do with the mason jar of teeth though; the clinking noises of it remind you of the seashells you used to collect when you were a kid. Maybe you’ll stash it away with the torso.

Placing the bags into the trunk of a rental, you begin your journey to the end of your fairytale.

The drive to and from the places was tiring, to say the least. The internet connection of the diners was spotty at best. Locals were overly friendly with the city folks who came passing through their towns. The roads reek of roadkill and manure from the farm animals that were left to roam for fresh grass.

At least you get to come home in a spotless apartment, alone once again.

But not lonely.

Your space is yours again. No trace of anyone anywhere. Immaculately yours.

—

Humans are social creatures.

No one can truly be alone, especially in today’s world where we’re connected to everyone—whether we liked it or not.

Leaving your wretched job behind was an easy feat to do. No one can say no to the victim of such a vile crime. That’s all they saw you: a helpless little thing. So off you went; saying half-assed goodbyes and sending emails of courage and hope and fucking resilience.

Your resignation meant that the company’s free of any dirt from you, Bucky’s disappearance quickly becoming a joke and a rumor blending in one.

They let you leave: in your bank account a fat check ensuring that you’d shut up about the scandal for months until you can’t feed yourself no more. So you packed your bags and jet off without looking back. You never liked that apartment anyway.

Nevertheless, you found yourself looking into another dead-end job in one of the towns you stopped over before. It’s a charming place like time froze in their plaza while the rest of the world went on. You found a small studio apartment in a street tuckered away from the main avenue, you settled there as days became nights and nights turned into days.

You woke up one morning craving a healthy serving of coffee and pancakes, luckily the town’s local diner wasn’t far from your new home.

The coffee was too hot, the pancakes were amazing, fluffy, and just right. You’re sitting in a sunny booth, the warmth doing its wonders.

“Hi, can I get today’s paper, please?” Your voice is sweet as you call your server, giving her a quick smile.

A pair of Raybans adorn your face, unconsciously hiding behind its darkened glasses. The waitress gives you a thick stack of newspapers, refilling your cup with black coffee.

Upon opening the paper, you ignore the town’s headlines and went straight for the job postings. The door jingled open as patrons come in and go, waving to familiar faces.

Job Vacancy Announcements

Secretary to the Town Sheriff

You skimmed over the rest of the details, only noting the address of the office. The job looks quite lucrative for someone who would only take messages and organize files for the sheriff.

Looking over the job posting again, you read over the words walk-ins only. That shouldn’t be hard enough.

The diner looked deserted save from the man sitting behind your booth. Leaning over and tapping his shoulder, you put on a polite smile, “Hi, sorry, do you know how to get to the sheriff’s office from here?”

“Hello, darling.” The man croons in an accent, he looks over to you, “join me in my booth, will ‘ya?”

You’re in no position to reject his proposal, you’re the one who needed an answer.

Taking your coffee cup, you slide into his booth, “hi.”

“Just the face I wanted to see.” Clean-shaven, a hint of mint and smoke, and something woody; a worn leather jacket and white button-up shirt hugging his soft frame. “Some folks over on the apartment complex were talkin’ about a city girl wanting to rent a studio all by herself. That happen to be you?”

You look over to him, trying to understand how that small of news spread like a wildfire, “yeah. I moved in a week ago.”

He leans over, smiling sweetly as he unabashedly lets his eyes roam your features, “What’s a city girl like you doin’ in a place like this? I hope we ain’t too boring for you, gal.”

Chatty—he’s way too chatty.

“Just wanted a change of pace, really. Away from the bustle of the city.” You rustle the paper, clearing your throat to get back on the matter on hand, “so the sheriff’s office? Is it too far from here?”

“What business are ‘ya bringing into the office?”

“A job, actually. Says here that they’re looking for a secretary.” You might as well tell him everything, he seems too chatty to be dismissed over and over again.

“Well, darlin’, today’s your lucky day. No need to drive down the old road.” He reaches down to his seat, pulling up a brown hat, “Hi, I’m Sheriff Bodecker. Now, to whom do I owe the pleasure?”

You bite back a giggle, you’ve always wanted to be involved with the law.

[percywinchester27]

La Petite Mort

Word count: 2.1K

Pairing: Dean X Reader AU

Warnings: None, just fluff, humour and implied sex ;)

Series Summary: The reader has just shifted to a new flat and boy, someone on the floor has a really banging sex life! The passionate moans have been keeping her up for several nights in row and enough is enough! Reader has her suspicions, but is it really the green-eyed hottie from room no. 307?  

A/N: It’s a neighbours!AU. I’m finally writing one. So excited to share it with you guys. Hope y’all like it! <3

Beta: The best babe, @deanssweetheart23​​​​​

Everything was fine till the banging started. Pun very much intended.

The shift had been smooth, the job was going great and life was finally on track. You had slid under the covers with the most satisfied smile in years only to be woken up to a lady very, very, very happy with her life.

Oh yeah… oh yeah… ahhh right there… oh fuck yeah…

You sat up right in your bed, eyes wide, face hot.

Third night in a row. Third fucking night. Literally.

What in the good heavens? The landlady might have mentioned this while renting out the flat!

Shoving the pillow over your ears, you fell back onto the mattress, closing your eyes shut very tightly. Eventually sleep overtook you and you lapsed into lousy dreams of trying to catch the taxi which kept evading you. Not a metaphor for your sex life at all. Nope.

The disturbed sleep didn’t help your mood the following day. Everyone at the office thought of you as a happy-go lucky person. Lately, they were seeing this whole new dark side of you. Sleep was essential to your functioning. 

In the evening, on your way back, you stopped by the coffee shop downstairs to pick up a brownie. It was a little place; busy yet quaint. The barista, Charlie, made two hearts in your coffee instead of one. That put the biggest smile on your face. 

At least, the day was ending on a high note.

Your newly rented flat was on the third floor of a very complicated building. One staircase did not directly lead into another. An entire hallway had to be crossed to get to it. The design probably broke a hundred different by laws and someone was definitely paid off in the city civil office to get a construction permit. You did not want to imagine how the people would fare in case of a fire emergency. Learning the escape plan was like memorising the map of a treasure hunt. You escape, you win. You lose… whoops! Better luck in next life. But the rent was cheap and you were already living all the clichés of a struggling writer- one incomplete book, a job at a publishing house and addiction to coffee. So, yes, you would brave fire when it came to being able to afford a living.

Struggling with the brownie package and the coffee in your hand you jammed the key into the door. It didn’t go in. 

What the hell?

You tried again, and once more the key got jammed. On a closer look, you realised that the lock didn’t resemble yours at all. Stepping back, you peered at the door. 307. Not 306- which was yours.

The floor design was insane and instead of the flats being lined up next to each other, they were all fronting one another in a haphazard fashion. Shaking your head, you took a step back and jammed the key into the lock of your own flat.

Jesus! You’re losing it, Y/N.

Shirking off the mild irritation, you cooked yourself a hot cup of instant noodles, put on your favourite TV show and slinked into your couch. Tonight’s episode was going to reveal who the murderer was and you had been dying for the suspense to finally end. 

Just when the protagonist was about to point a gun at the killer in the shadows…

Oh my God... you’re incredible… aahhhh… ahhhh… ahhh…

You completely abandoned the TV and jumped up from the sofa. The fire hazard might still be worth it, but the thin walls so weren’t.

On tiptoes, you made your way to the east side wall, putting your ear against it. The noise wasn’t coming from upstairs. That was the only sure thing. But it was impossible to pinpoint the direction. The moans were reverberating through the walls. So loudly that there was no escaping it. Not in the bedroom, the kitchen or the living room sofa. 

Of all of them, the east wall seemed like the culprit. 

Right there… yeah…

307. Whoever it was in that room needed to calm the FUCK down. You grabbed your blanket and dragged it to the end of the living room, fuming. What ticked you off was how much this was ticking you off.

It’s sleep you told yourself. The lack of sleep was the only thing making you mad. The sex noises couldn’t be it. Because there were other noises- a dog barked somewhere occasionally, one of the rooms had a very loud stereo and someone was too much into baking- the beater was ceaseless. No, it had to be the timing and your wrecked sleep schedule.

Just like the nights before, you covered your ears and started reciting the story of the manuscript you had been reading at work. Eventually, sleep overtook you again.

The next morning you woke up in a crappier mood. If that was even possible.

Breathing down on anything and everything, you locked the door on your way out for work. Turning into the corridor, you ran into a wall of solid flesh. 

In your groggy, sleep deprived state, the first thing you noticed was the way he smelled- leather and whiskey and something headier than that. It was divine. Next, you looked up into those eyes- stunning green, like sparkling water running over jade.

“Easy there, sweetheart!” The guy smirked. 

You straightened yourself and took a step back. In front of you stood the most handsome guy you had ever seen. He was tall, with dirty blond hair, almost brown, and those stunning eyes. 

“I’m so sorry,” you muttered, trying to collect your scattered thoughts. You had one of those dumb faces that gave away every damn thought crossing through your brain, so obviously you tried your best not to meet his gaze. Which was a shame really. That face demanded to be ogled at. Let alone the body that followed.

“No, no… I didn’t mind at all.” 

You saw him reach out to the door of 307.

“You’re the one who lives there?” You asked through gritted teeth. 

He raised an eyebrow. “Sure. You want a tour?”

Uhgg the best looking guy and he has to be such a douche!

Slipping past him, you stomped off towards the stairs. This too-good-looking-for-the-world asshat had been ruining your nights and in turn your life. 

You knew it was wrong to be mad at him without, at least, talking about the issue first. A polite conversation explaining your situation wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world now, would it? But how does one start a conversation pertaining to that? After all, he wasn’t exactly the one making the noise. What would you say?

So, hey would you mind pleasuring your girlfriend a little less? 

Or better. Ever heard of a ball gag?

Mere thought of it made you shudder.

The work day was spent trying to shove your neighbour's stupidly handsome face out of your mind. It didn’t help that your mother kept calling, repeatedly. You knew what she had to say. How you should have taken that bigger job at Royal’s publishing. How the writing career might never take off. How you really should get a boyfriend now, or you’ll be the only unmarried cousin in the family.

Usually you could entertain your mother with well-timed hmms and ahhs. Today wasn’t that day.

Bone-tired and absentminded, you jammed the key in the keyhole in the evening, only for it to get stuck again. You looked up at the door. 307.

Well, shit!

Putting both your hands into it, you yanked the key with all your might, just as the door opened. There he stood, with his crooked smirk, dimples digging in, wearing nothing but a thin cotton t-shirt and sweatpants that hung all too low on those hips.

“You don’t need to break into my house. I already offered a tour.” Of course, god gave him an irresistible voice. Cause at this point, why not?

“Sorry,” you muttered, looking anywhere but at him. “I keep getting the wrong door. This one’s mine.”

“Oh, so you’re the one in 306!” You could feel his smirk more than see it. “Looks like you’re having a good ol’ time in there.”

“Excuse me?”

The guy raised scratched the back of his neck, face apologetic. “You might… ya know… just keep the voice down in there?”

The audacity of this guy!

“Rich of you to ask anyone to keep it down!” You hissed. “Why don’t you tell your girlfriend to keep it low?” 

With that, you shut your door in his surprised face. The worst part was, after bumping into him in the morning, your mind was producing distinct images of him in the bed, doing things to a woman. You had tried your best not to let them make a home in your head. But like a stickly tenant, they refused to evacuate. No wonder it was hard to look him in those brilliant, brilliant green eyes. The guy was hot! There was no denying that. You weren’t even willing to accept to yourself just how much time you had put into imagining him naked.

If anything, the denial mixed with your pre-existing irritation and sleep deprivation had you ready tonight. 

So the moment the enamoured voice started begging, you hopped out of your chair. You had every intention of yelling yourself hoarse at the delectable resident next door, but the moment you stepped into the corridor, you came face to face with the very man. 

He was- thankfully, completely clothed- looking a bit harassed, himself.

aahhhh… ahhhh… ahhh… right there...

Your head whipped up to the suspected direction of the voice, and back at him. “Wait, you aren’t… it’s not...?”

His face mirrored your expression of surprise and then he burst out laughing. “Looks like we’ve both been played.”

“Not intentionally,” you said, peering at the adjacent doors, mostly to not look at him. “Where do you think it’s coming from?”

He shot a glance at the door opposite to his. “If it’s not you, my best guess is that guy over there. I mean, if you ask me, Nick over there doesn’t look the type to make a woman that happy… but what do I know?”

“You shouldn’t make assumptions about people,” you said, taking a tentative step towards the said door.

Mr. hot guy smartpants laughed. “Oh, trust me. He’s the douchiest douche you’ll ever meet. Guy like that? Definitely selfish in bed.”

You frowned at him.

“He asks women in the street to smile more,” hot guy explained.

“Uhhgg… yeah you’re right. It’s definitely not him.”

Hot guy pointed his fingers at the rest of the doors. “That one’s rented by three guys. I don’t think it’s them. Mrs. Hendrickson over there works night shifts. I have no clue who lives in there,” he pointed to the last door, directly in front of you.

Goodness you’re amazing...

“Yes, lady, we already know!” He called out.

You couldn’t help the giggle that burst through your lips.

His eyes softened. “Dean Winchester,” he said, offering his hand.

“Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N,” you said, taking his. He had a firm grip. A very funny sensation gripped your stomach. Like a flutter. Nervousness? 

“It’s great to meet you, Y/N.” He smirked. “I sure wish the circumstances were better.”

You bit your lip. “Listen, I’m sorry for the comment about your girlfriend. I was just mad about, you know... “

“Don’t worry about it. My non-existent girlfriend is very cool. She took no offense.”

You snorted.

“I was dead serious about the house tour,” He winked. “I can promise great coffee.”

“Sure, sometime soon.”

He shot a look at the door with the unknown occupants again. “I hate to leave this here, but I think we should get whatever kind of shuteye we can while they’re quiet over there, huh?”

“Oh, yeah!” You hurried back to your flat. “Night, Dean.”

He gave you his crooked grin again, just a hint of mischief. “Night, Y/N.”

You knew it wasn’t him now, and he was right about making the most of the quiet and fucking off to sleep, and yet, each time you closed your eyes, your mind decided to replay your imaginations for you. With a start, you sat up in your bed, a thought occurring to you like a hit on the head- If you had been thinking about him that way? Had he been imagining you as well?

Blood rushed to your face at the very idea. Though a tiny part of you begged for the answer- would it be such a bad thing if he had?

*********************

A/N 2: So? So? SO??? What do you think?

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[patchies]

Shadows

Pairing: Dream x Reader x ???

Summary: An apocalyptic world where creatures of the night roam all around it. Searching for living beings to satisfy their hunger. Vicious creatures they are. It’s said that one person called upon their wrath in revenge. You awake in this place with another human being at your side. No memories whatsoever of the life you’ve had prior to coming here. In search of a way out, and your memories, you stumble upon multiple people with many personalities. Some can’t wait to meet you. If you take it the friendly or hostile way is up to you, but worry not… Nothing can hurt you. Or can it, now?

Warnings: none that I can think of

Word Count: 2.8+k

Author's note: hi, hi, hi! I bring you a new chapter after what... 1 and a half months of not uploading anything? My apologies are probably not enough, but I have been working on chapters, I promise! And, drum roll, please, I might have some art in store for this series. It isn't done, yet, but I'm trying to work on it, guys!

Wattpad link: here

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Chapter 4: Forming Friendship

As the sun starts off the next day, you and Nick depart from your home in search of more resources. He throws in a suggestion that you should spread out, so you could cover more ground, and you agree- not like you have anything else to do for the meantime. Unless you want to be stuck at home playing some card games Nick had found while searching for the paint buckets.

You search the places south, just outside the town. All the buildings look the same to your wondering eyes, nothing valuable piquing your interest that much, so you rather opt for wandering further. Through the greenery until a clearing reveals itself before you.

A beautiful and elegant meadow stretches across the horizon. As if a page was torn from a fairy-tale book, and rightfully so. The only thing missing is a royal castle or fairies' houses. Pollen flies in the air and swirls around you enchantingly and a surge of calmness goes through your being. An accommodation in your body along with the feeling of delight.

The nature has truly taken over most of the world.

It's not like you can complain, really. Colours, textures and elements flow with each other in a beautiful harmony, creating an almost painting-like picture that you can marvel at.

Deep down, you were always a fan of the quietness Mother nature has offered you at times in need. Whenever you felt down, really.

You slightly remember how it helped you with your anxiety, shyness and depression when you used to be socially awkward and unwilling to do something about it. It felt peaceful compared to the continuous pressure many people used to put on you. Not many people were harsh on you, but your social battery could take so much until all you were ready to do was just lie down, put on a playlist of your favourite songs and chill. They denied your want to be left alone when the only thing you needed was space and your own time. Their faces are now blurry images of faces you once used to know, but you don't know if you'll ever get back to your life or how long it might take.

I should throw away my pessimistic thoughts…

That was a part of the old you, though. You'd like to think that you're better now, but your pessimism has stayed with you nonetheless. It's about time you started working on it and who knows? You might get to form plenty friendships here who will be willing to help you.

With a shake of your messy hair, you focus back to the beauty in front of you, pushing the vines away and walking towards the flowery meadow.

Yellow grains contrast gorgeously with the sparse greenery the field has to offer here and there.

You bent down and pluck one of the many Dahlias near your feet, putting the pistil close to your nose.

Sniff, sniff, sniff

The flower alone doesn't smell alluring or sweet, like anything. The stem and leaves, on another note, smell bitter with a slight flowery undertone. It strikes a sense of serenity in you as you inspect the innocent white petals be carried away from you by the wind, flying off to the clear sky to join the fine powdery substance.

You let go of the stem and watch it be snatched, following its trace until it falls between the loads of flowers.

Just then, a gentler breeze begins and takes a handful of leaves of the ground, aiming just below a small hill to your left as if it had a mind of its own. You realize that it might actually do as it points you to a lone building sitting at the base, overflown with the finest flora you've ever faced.

A mere bookshop from what you can see from the distance. The walls are built from brick and it still seems in a decent shape, except the nature, but that gives it a special charm. A great place to get away from all this chaotic and death-threating events for even a while.

You carefully move through the grass and blossoms, trekking your way up to it.

• • •

Meanwhile, somewhere far away from you, a deer curiously, yet cautiously, examines you from a cliffside looking over the whole meadow. Its doe eyes flick from you to a small fawn by its side.

It huffs, shakes its head and turns, departing into the forest.

• • •

The inside is wondrous, despite your expectations of it being completely trashed.

Bookshelves line the walls and are all filed with all styles of literature. Slightly used, torn and unkept. It gives you an idea how no one surely visits this place. The place looks great, so it doesn't make much sense to you. You cannot help but be a little happy over the fact at that despite the telling signs of its abandonment.

Your hand automatically lifts up to slide over the spines of the books, keeping your touch light as you advance further inside. The rough, yet extremely soothing, texture extracts a small smile from you and you close your eyes. You begin dragging your other appendage across the parallel shelf until a thud makes you shoot your eyes open in alert, whipping your head behind you, but finding nothing out of ordinary.

With your now unsure footsteps, you slowly walk to the end of the aisle in front of you, peeking around the corner.

You catch sight of a short boy sitting in front of a shelf, or rather a stand, with comic books. He's sat down near the middle where the wooden stand is, flipping through each comic with haste.

A messy brown nest of hair sits atop his head while a flower crown with some scarce plastic bees thrown in reasts atop and a long green scarf messily wrapped around his neck. It strangely compliments his look that is styled with green, golden and black and despite the apocalyptic surroundings and lack of proper resources, you're surprised he's styled it very prettily.

A black stylish coat with golden accents is thrown on the floor near him along with his messenger bag, its contents peeking out. Especially the thick book with a pack of pencils. You wonder what the book contains, but maybe you'll get a chance to see it sometime.

You cautiously and carefully lean against a counter near you, observing the young boy as he shuffles through numerous comics. He huffs out a long sigh, throwing another book aside. It comes tumbling down back to him due to the amount he has already piled on top of each other. His nimble fingers pick up another one, swiping through it with precision.

He mumbles something quietly, softly putting the comic onto another pile beside him that is neat compared to the other one.

This demeanour continues for a long minute, basically choosing a book in a ratio that one is kept and twelve are thrown away. He never seems too happy with his decision, frowning at some in sadness despite having to give up on them. You don't understand why he doesn't put them onto the obvious piles of his favourites, but you stand in your place.

Having enough of watching, you whistle too loudly to get his attention.

Only to see the guy jump up in the air and slip on a paper he has previously abandoned on the ground. He pointlessly flails his arms around until his elbow hits the ground first, followed by his hip and the rest of his body.

You wince.

As if caught in the headlights, he spins his head to you. The previously left out paper now present on his head. You see confusion, fear and surprise fight against who will persevere on his face, so you lower your shoulders back down and give him an awkward smile, “Uh, sorry?”

He unsurely stumbles to his feet and dusts his clothes off, tightening the scarf around his neck with tense movement. His eyes widen and he makes a quick, though awkward, show of pulling out a stick?

He fumbles around with it for a bit before it extends into a normal looking sword, posing heroically, “I'll- uh, stab you! Yeah! I'll use this sword to stab you.”

You quirk an eyebrow at his choice of words, and at the adorable stutter he did, “Do you even know how to wield a sword?”

“Of course, I do! Wait- do I? No, no, no, you're just trying to make me look silly. I do know-”

Cue an uncoordinated swing of the sharpened weapon at his own leg, but at least his reaction time seems to be fast and he slides his foot out of harm's way just in time. One he created, and he watches as the sword penetrates the wooden boards and he struggles to pull it out.

His action makes you doubt his abilities further and a you can't help the small giggle that escapes you, raising your arms in mock defence when he sends you a defensive glare, “You- you cannot be serious. Quit the child's play, I'm not here to hurt you.”

He stays quiet, still pulling on the handle of the sword with unfortunate outcomes. It slips out of his fists multiple times and he sighs before flopping down onto the floor, defeated, “I guess I really don't know.”

You choose not to retort any sassy comeback to his gloomy self, rather analysing his figure and approaching the weapon. Arms still held above your head to show you don't plan on attacking, your features soft, “Mind me getting the weapon for you? I won't use it against you, I promise.”

“Go ahead,” he gives you an absent wave of his hand and only stares as you grip the handle.

At first, you tug and nothing happens, so you try holding it at a specific place and are delighted when you feel a small button press against your palm, giving it one more tug along with a squeeze of the switch.

An imaginary lightbulb blinks above his head as he sees the sword retract from the ground and you're left gripping the stick in your hand, “See? It isn't as hard, is it now?”

“I admit, you're right,” he accepts the handle from your outstretched hand, storing it into his hoodie pocket.

No wonder you didn't notice it before. He's had it hidden there and he had to have pulled it out when you whistled. Although you personally wouldn't own a weapon like that, it probably comes in handy for situations like these. You aren't sure if it'd be beneficial in an actual fight against a stronger and better crafted weapon, though.

A switchblade would do a better job, surely. From what you've seen, they're a lighter object, more portable and friendlier to beginners. Might even suit his style of fighting better, even if you haven't seen it in action yet, to be truthful, “I do believe I'm right.”

“I would beat you if I had my hatchet!”

You chuckle, “Well, we can always engage in hand-to-hand combat, if you're that confident in getting me. Why use weapons?”

His eyes widen and all his courage dissipates, waving his hands crazily and shaking his head, “When you say it like that, I'll pass you on that offer, thank you. Why didn't you attack me, by the way? Oh, and also, I'm Tubbo, since we seem to be okay with each other.”

Refraining from telling him your name back, you swing your arm at his head and watch him yelp, shut his eyes and flinch from you in humorous satisfaction. You stop it inches from his face, lowering it and stepping away from him, “You should've seen your face, Mr. Tubbo. I'd say we are okay, but I had to pull that on you and to answer your question of my peace towards you… You just seemed harmless.”

He stands up and looks at you in feign anger, jabbing an accusing finger into your chest “You're so cruel, what? I can't trust you now.”

Tubbo crosses his arms, turning away from you. You turn away from him and spot his collection of comics. His previous actions coming to the forefront of your mind, “Hey, why were you browsing through so many comics?”

“I was looking for something,” he shrugs, walking past you and picking up quite a big amount of comic books. He catches the incredulous glance you give the items in his hands and nods his head at them, “They aren't for me.”

“You looked quite sad when you couldn't grab one for yourself, why can't you?”

He's surprised you picked up on that, but he just shrugs, “I would. If my bag allowed me to carry so much at once and I just want to surprise my friends.”

You give a small 'aww', making his ears flush pink and cower away, “I could help you carry them. Where is your camp?”

“I don't think I should be revealing that to strangers, but I've never been the smartest with decisions and I'm sure you'd notice either way,” Tubbo stuffs the books inside his bag, barely closing it, “I could just act like I abducted you.”

“Won't that be suspicious? You actually seem like a person who's too nice to do that.”

The bee boy lightly grins at that while putting his coat on, throwing the messenger bag on his shoulder, “I'm bad at acting, too, so they'd surely notice.”

“Are any of them keeping guard on this place, by the way?”

“No,” his answer is straight-forward, without any hesitation, “It might be very shocking, but none of my friends know about this place. Although I visit quite often than not. It gets quite harsh out there, y'know?”

You hum, choosing to drop the subject and return back to an airier topic, “Which ones do you like?”

Tubbo's quick to light up at the change, dropping to his knees and shuffling through the messy mountain of comics once again. He carelessly throws ten of them at you in happiness and leaves you grasping them to your chest. You laugh at his enthusiasm, reading off few of the titles and shaking your head as he keeps on searching for more.

This was probably a crazy idea, but whatever. Tubbo seems like an adorable person to be around.

Not long after you get ready to leave, keeping the conversation loose and it's almost effortless how you get along. The themes get intertwined between you with ease, pointing to some aspects around you if you want to make a point.

He is a strange guy to get a hold of, but you can say that you like how easy-going talking is with him. The male has visibly suffered some of his own stuff, but he still has this bubbly personality around him that you can't wrap your mind around. Though, you enjoy that little perk he has.

At one point, you lose sight of the boy, looking around you in confusion only to have him appear behind you and throw a freshly made flower crown on top of your head. The question of where he got it from is lost to his ears as he babbles on how he needs to teach you the crafting of one, so you could be 'flower crown buddies'. His own words. Your reaction is to bump your shoulder with his, joking how he is too goofy for you to even want to learn. A look of betrayal is thrown at you and you chuckle.

He proceeds to skip at certain intervals during your trek through the forest, too, visibly being excited to earn a new friend who is close to his wave-length. You don't even notice when you get close, having too much fun getting to know each other and goof around, but Tubbo increasingly slows his steps near an old-looking house.

He turns to you, “Well, this is my stop. I shouldn't take you further or I'll get spanked for not listening to my peers.”

“Uh, I won't respond to that, though I hope everything's alright back at your base. You shouldn't go through child abuse anywhere,” you awkwardly scratch at your neck, handing him the comic books meant for him.

Tubbo light-heartedly laughs at your perplexed self, a jokester-like glint appearing in his eyes as he accepts the papers, “I hope we can meet again.”

“I do, too, and hey. The library can be our place, if you're comfortable enough to call it that,” you heartily smile at him, ruffling his hair and receiving a pouty 'hey! my hair, not yours!'.

He shakes his head to fix your doings, throwing a lop-sided grin, “I can allow that.”

“Well, I should go,” you look up to the sky, seeing the sun brightly shining more to the west side now. It shouldn't be that long before you'll have to get ready for the night and report your findings with Nick. Not like you have much to say to him, but there are some things worth mentioning to him, “I have a friend possibly waiting for me already. It was incredible meeting you, Tubbo!”

“Likewise.”