#makes lunches offers to do the shopping cleans up without being asked brings things home that will make race smile

[loving-jack-kelly]

i think. for spot being in love is the biggest and most unexpected thing in the world to him he didn't expect it he doesn't quite believe it's real he can't get over it. and for race it's another tuesday. and this means that race says I love you first because it's not hard for him and race says it more often because it's not hard for him and race says it more casually because it's not hard for him but spot says it and feels it from his head to his toes and there are not three words in the English language that mean more to him than "I love you" to say. or to hear.

[twinklelilstarkey]

Cuddles - Mathew Barzal

Words: 2.7k+

Type: Fluff

Summary: Every time Mat comes back from a roadie, he becomes the clingiest person known to Earth, which means that he will do absolutely anything to get your attention and his god damn cuddles.

Warnings: PDA - just Mat being really touchy and stuff. There isn’t a mention on reader’s gender.

Mathew is not really the type of person that constantly seeks affection. He just likes his own space from time to time. Especially outside of the house, he’ll hold your hand but he’s not one to hug you out of nowhere, unlike some couples in your friend group.

But, that is only when he hasn’t been away from you for some time. If, for example, you two go spend the holidays with your families (separated), Mathew is not leaving your side when you’re back together. He absolutely will not let you go to do anything. 

So you better take the week off work, every time, you got a man to cuddle. 

And now that you two have been dating for a longer time, officially living under the same roof and doing everything like a whole married couple, Mathew’s seeking for affection after being away is through the roof. Like, he’s out for 2 weeks for a roadie, expect that men to hug you by the bus and never let go of you until you need to pee.

You believe that it might be because he now gets so used to seeing you everywhere in the house that when he leaves, he has that silence and that person missing. 

Yet, still, you never, in a million years, expected him to take his hugs so seriously.

And that is exactly what’s happening right now. He went out for a long roadie, which he can’t complain much because the Islanders won a lot and he had a great time with his friends, but, god damn it, he hated that he had to spend such a long time away from you and just staring at you through a screen.

He came back home late at night, around 4 in the morning, and even though you two felt exhausted - and you were half asleep - he still hugged you and stayed with his arms around you for a good 5 minutes. That is even without closing the front door when he came in.

And when you did reach the bed, you two fell asleep in just a few seconds.

You were able to wake up, naturally, early and Mathew looked so peaceful when you woke up that you tried your best not to move too much and wake him on accident. That man needs rest, and you seriously can’t take that away from him. 

So, you used your silent Sunday morning to the best of your ability, did a lengthy morning routine, just to have that moment with yourself in calm days: take a long relaxing shower, and even do a mask and test new products on your face.

You’re honestly living your best life.

And even after those good 40-50 minutes in the bathroom, Mathew is still asleep when you walk out. 

So, you decide to go have breakfast and probably, just if you’re feeling like it, clean the apartment - an activity you’ve been hesitating to do for days, but, sooner or later, you do have to do it.

And you, like the brave soul that you are, started working on it as soon as you can. Literally downed your coffee like a shot, ate a granola bar, and cleaning you went.

The living room and bathrooms were fairly easy and quick, but as soon as you started with the kitchen, a wild sleepy Mathew makes an appearance.

“Morning.” You say with a smile.

With his eyes still half-closed yet a grin on his face, Mathew walks over to you, slowly starting to open his arms. You put down the rag onto the counter and meet him halfway to wrap your arms around his torso. His arms wrap around your shoulders and squeeze you close.

He leans his cheek onto your head and you close your eyes, feeling and enjoying Mathew’s warmth through the thin shirt you’re wearing.

“How did you sleep?” You ask him.

“Good. I was so tired.” He says while letting out a sigh.

You squeeze him one time and move your head back to stare up at him. He looks down to meet your gaze and gives you a quick kiss, almost as if he’s stealing one.

“What do you want to do today?” He asks you, and you can’t help but hold in a cringe.

“I don’t know if we can do anything exciting today.” You tell him slowly.

“Why?” He asks with a confused frown.

“I have a lot to do today.” You start, “I have to finish cleaning the house, probably go grocery shopping and do my meals for the week.”

A loud and long groan leaves Matthew’s mouth as he throws his head back dramatically and you unwrap your arms from around him to hold his sides.

“I’m sorry.” You try to make it better with a soft tone. “Were you planning on doing anything?”

He brings his head back up and shakes his head.

“Just wanted to spend time with you.” He says before pulling you into a hug again, “And cuddle.” He says against your neck.

You wrap your arms around him again and run your hand up and down his back comfortingly.

“I’m still going to be at home. I just won’t be able to cuddle until I’m done with everything.” You tell him and he sighs dramatically. “You can always help me? So I’m done with all of this quicker.”

Mathew stays silent, still snuggled into your neck, and doesn’t even move a muscle.

Accepting his silence as an answer of ‘no, thank you’ or even ‘let me wake up first and I’ll answer you’, you try to move away from him, laying your hands by his sides again and pushing him away ever so slightly. But, right as Mathew feels the pressure of you pulling him away, he stops you by squeezing you a bit closer.

“Nooo.” He whines, making you laugh, “Just a few more seconds.”

(...)

Mathew, surprisingly, after his long morning shower and eating his breakfast (over the table you just cleaned), actually offered to help. He ignored your surprised look, looked at you, and just asked “what do you need me to do?”.

And off Mat went to clean your room and make the bed. You just finished off with the kitchen and swept some floors, and, honestly, you don’t think you’ve ever got everything done so quickly.

With Mathew still in the bedroom, you decide to start working on the list of groceries. Opening every cabinet and the fridge multiple times, you typed into your phone’s notes what is missing and what you’ll eventually need in a space of a few hours after cooking.

While deep into your task, you don’t notice Mat coming back from the bedroom with the full dirty laundry basket - mostly because he just emptied his travel bag and just changed the sheets. He walks through the kitchen to the laundry room and yet you don’t blink an eye in his direction. 

You are so focused that Mat is starting to think that someone could rob the apartment, right now, and you wouldn’t even notice them.

When the laundry is separated and some of it is already on the machine, which is already on, Mat walks back out to the kitchen and notices you typing on your phone.

“Do you want to go to get the food before lunch?” He asks you, in hopes you would answer him.

You just nod, while scrolling through the list to see if you didn’t repeat anything.

Mat stares at you for a bit, taking a second or two to admire you - something he was unable to do for a good few days. He takes a few steps closer, almost as if testing the waters, and stands right beside you.

He acts as if he’s checking the list you’re writing, and leans in close to you. You, still in your own world, pay him no mind and continue to type and check at least 3 times in the row if anything is missing on the list.

His arms sneakily wrap around your hips and he pulls you closer to him to the point of completely having you against him. He lays a kiss on the side of your head and looks down at your phone again, not wanting to disrupt you too much.

Your vacant hand lays over his arm, caressing it unconsciously as you delete a few words and type some new ones.

“Want to go to the store with me?” You ask him.

You look up at him as Mat doesn’t say anything and when your eyes meet, he gives you a quick nod. You smile at him and he kisses your cheek.

(...)

“You know...” You start while looking at the shelves down the aisle, “You’re making it really hard to walk, babe.”

“I don’t know what you mean by that.”

You laugh at Mat and he smiles against your shoulder. He has been doing this every time the aisle you’re walking down is empty - which is almost every aisle. He has his arms around your waist and is holding you from behind close to him while you try to walk with the shopping cart right in front of you.

You don’t even know how many times you’ve tripped over each other’s feet, but Mat doesn’t seem to mind it at all.

You look down at your list and delete the name of another item as you throw it inside the cart.

“You look really beautiful today.” Mat says against your ear before pressing a kiss over the side of your head.

You look over at him and he leans his head back to look at you better, as well. A small grin lifts off the corners of your lips and he smiles before giving you a kiss.

As you two pull away, you turn your attention back to the aisle in front of you.

“Good to know I just look like that today.” You say to him in the most serious tone ever.

Mat giggles at your words beside your ear and soon your serious act lifts off. In your defense, it’s hard to do so when he’s that close to your ear, giggling his sanity away.

“You know what I mean.” He says while poking your side.

“You’re lucky I do.”

He smiles brightly and goes back to leaning his head over your shoulder. Good thing for him, the store is almost empty, so he can do that for most of the time you’re here.

You stop the cart once more and start, with the best of your ability, putting the things you need from the shelves into the center of the cart.

Soft humming is heard a few meters behind you, yet both you and Mat seem to ignore it. An old lady, with a little basket on her hand, walks down the aisle innocently, looking through the products on the shelves, and as she studies all the varieties, her eyes land on you.

Her view is quite interesting. You’re looking down at your phone, lifting your gaze to squint at what’s in front of you - what she assumes is the signs about each aisle - and a man, Mat, is with his dark hair mostly covered by his hoodie, even though some strands are falling to his forehead, hugging you close to him while peeking down at your phone.

If she wasn’t such a romantic person, she would’ve thought about and probably criticized - in her mind - how clingy you both looked. Yet she’s not one to turn her nose in disgust at such things, quite the opposite. She’s the one that smiles upon seeing them.

“Mat, can you pass me that bag?” She hears you ask the boy while giving him a pat on the head to get his attention.

He doesn’t verbally answer, but, right away, he stands upright and reaches up for the bag your pointing at the top of the shelves.

“Wait- Not that one.” You told him.

“Why not?” He frowns in confusion.

“It doesn’t look good.”

He gives you a look as if you’re going crazy and grabs your wished bag of sugar while listening to you giggle at his annoyance. When the bag reaches the center of the cart, he goes back to behind you and goes back to his warm, kind of, hiding place. 

And that’s when the lady decides to not stare for much longer, in hopes she wouldn’t spook anyone, and walks away to continue her shopping.

You, without even blinking at Mat’s actions, start moving forward out of the aisle and onto the next one. And that’s when your eyes land on the lady, who is walking by you now, at a way faster pace - you got to blame Mat for that one; you swear that a sloth moves faster than you two.

(...)

“Are you done, now?” Mat asks for probably the 100th time in the past hour.

You put down the rinsed pan on the washing machine and finally look back at Mat while closing it.

“Yes.”

“Really?” He asks with widened eyes, “Or are you joking?”

“I’m 100% serious.”

Mathew stands from the high chair of the island and walks over to you right away. He grabs onto your hand and starts pulling you towards the living room and couch, finally going after what he has been wishing all day long. His god damn cuddles.

You have been cooking for the past hour and some more minutes for your meals to eat during the week for work - a habit you’ve started having for a few months and can’t seem to not do it when there’s a big week incoming.

In other words, the restaurants around your work aren’t that great, you’re tired of sandwiches and you’ve been finding yourself too tired during the week to do lunch in the morning or on the night before. So, meal prepping, it is.

You and Mathew walk into the living room and he’s quick to snatch the largest blanket you had just folded this morning. He lets go of your hand before giving a look, almost as if to tell you, ‘don’t you dare move’.

You smile at him as he lays over the couch and motions you to come closer. He grabs onto the tv remote first, probably to get a movie going, just for background noise, and you lay with him.

Your face lays over Mat’s chest comfortably and you feel him shake the blanket around before draping it over the two of you. A little grin is planted over your face as he practically starts tucking you in, close to him.

As soon as the movie is chosen, Mat’s arms wrap around you and he pulls you even closer.

The both of you stare at the TV in silence. You’re just curious to see what movie he chose, while Mat just wants to see if the movie is any good. 

But then, suddenly, an uneasy feeling hits the end of your tummy.

Oh no, he’s going to absolutely hate you.

How are you even supposed to tell him this?

You try to focus on the screen and forget about all your needs. You just got to focus, Y/N, come on.

Not even five minutes later, you feel like you can’t hold it in anymore. Ugh, just do it.

“Hey, Mat?” You ask, tone a little hesitant.

“Yeah?” He asks, moving his hand up and down your back.

“I need to tell you something and, please, don’t be mad.”

Mathew frowns and looks away from the screen at you. He’s confused, you can tell. You can’t really blame him, you were just fine a few minutes ago, and now you sounded like you were about to unleash a bomb.

“Okay...?” He says almost as if to encourage you to talk, since you stayed very quiet.

“I might need to go pee.” You tell him.

His hand abruptly stops moving on your back and his expression of confusion falls into an expression of disbelief.

“Are you serious?” He asks.

“Yeah.” You say, biting your lips as if to keep in your giggles.

“How dare you?”

A giggle finally escapes your mouth and you notice his lips twitching slightly as he tries not to smile and continue his serious act.

“I’ll be right back, yeah?” You tell him as you start sitting up on your knees.

“Screw you.” He tells you and you laugh again.

You’re quick on standing back on your feet and make your way to the bathroom, very fast-paced.

“I love you too, Barzal!” You tell him as you walk out of the room.

Hope this is good!

[heroloverangel]

Delicate

This is technically a sequel to last year’s Dad Mirio fic but can be read on its own! Everyone’s favorite Wholesome Dilf continues to live rent-free in my brain.

“I miss you soooo much,” Mirio says for the fifth time in the past twenty minutes. You give him a comforting smile from your side of the screen, you know how he feels. Your husband’s been gone for three days now helping with a disaster in Osaka, and he probably won’t be home for the rest of the week. It’s hard being married to one of Japan’s top heroes, you think to yourself. You wish you could be there with him, putting your training to good use where it’s needed, but your current assignment is too important to ignore. It’s as if he can read your mind from the other side of the country. “How’s my buddy doing?”

You smile and tilt your camera down to show off your heavy stomach. At eight months pregnant, you’re sidelined from hero work no matter what the crisis is. “He’s alright,” you confirm. “I think he’s bored without you around, though.” He lets out a little whine that’s almost heartbreaking; it’s obvious where he’d rather be right now. You take pity on him and drop the phone level with your belly to give him a better view. 

“Hey buddy,” he coos. “I promise, I’ll finish as fast as I can so I can come home to you and Mama soon.” You feel movement inside you as he talks. You don’t know how good your baby’s hearing is, especially through the video chat, but you’re sure that he’s reacting to his father’s familiar voice. “I can’t wait to get back and feel how strong you’re kicking in there. I bet you’re driving Mama crazy!” You relax further into your pillows and let him babble on to your bump about his day saving civilians and clearing out rubble, only a little lonely when you look over at the empty half of your bed. You really do miss him, your house is far too quiet and calm without his usual energy filling it.

You yawn after a few more minutes and glance at the time. “Sorry, it’s getting kinda late. Would you mind if we called it a night for now?”

He smiles, but you can tell that he’s trying to hide his disappointment. “No problem, I know you need your sleep. We’ll talk again tomorrow, okay?” You agree and tell your husband you love him before hanging up the phone and settling in for bed. You’re tired, but you’ve gotten too comfortable with him sleeping beside you and it takes awhile to fall asleep on your own.

You spend the next morning balancing your laptop over your swollen belly while you browse through maternity clothes. There’s a local shop that promises same-day delivery, and you treat yourself to a few things for your last month. You read through your email, a magazine wants a quick interview for an article about hero families and you’re happy to answer their questions. It’s hard to move too much in your condition, but you make sure to do the prenatal exercises your doctor recommended and then have a nice long shower. Your new clothes arrive and you leave them on the dresser for now while you eat lunch and call your family. It still seems too quiet in the house without Mirio, and you’re getting bored when your phone finally rings and your face lights up at his name.

“Hey sweetheart! I’ve got a surprise for you!”

You can hear the smile in his voice and it warms your heart. “Is it dinner? I think somebody in here’s really craving steak tonight.”

He laughs. “You’ll see. Just have a seat on the couch and close your eyes for a second, okay?”

This isn’t the weirdest thing he’s requested over the phone, and you obey. “Alright, they’re closed. What are you planning, Lemillion?”

“You can open your eyes in three...two...one…” his voice disappears from the phone, all you hear is the background noise of birds chirping.

“Mirio?” Your eyes are still closed.

“SURPRISE!” 

You jump in shock and drop your phone, your eyes flying open. He’s standing in front of you with the biggest grin on his face, completely naked. It takes you a second to realize he must have phased through the front door to surprise you. You struggle to stand but fail, and he has to pull you up himself into his arms for a deep kiss. “You’re home early! How’d you manage that?”

“The others knew how much I wanted to get home, with you being pregnant and all, and everybody worked extra hard to cover for me so I could leave first.” You owe every single one of them a thank you gift. “Boy, that Uravity is amazing with rescue work!” Oh, you owe her twice as much after this.

“I’m glad you’re home,” you sigh happily. Your husband drops to his knees in front of you and pushes your shirt up to kiss your stomach, rubbing his hand where he feels a faint kick.

“Me too. I missed our family so much.” His arms wrap around you and he rests his head against your middle. You run your fingers through his hair, both of you taking a minute to relish your little reunion. It’s only been a few days, but it was more than enough to make you homesick for each other.

He stands back up after a bit and you head for the hallway. “You should go grab your phone off the porch and take a shower. I’ve got a bit of a surprise for you too, when you’re done.” He’s happy to obey and you follow him down the hall, pausing at the front door then into the bedroom. You wait for the bathroom door to shut and then spring into action as fast as you can. You clothes come off; you kick them under the bed instead of wasting precious time trying to pick them off the floor. 

You reach for the new clothes on the dresser and find the outfit you’d picked for his welcome home gift. The bra is made out of soft white lace so flimsy it looks like it’ll tear if you breathe too hard. It ties closed with a ribbon in the front and your clumsy fingers finally form a decent bow on the third try. A skirt attaches beneath the cups and just skims your thighs, the two halves of it parted to show off your obvious pregnancy. You’re lucky that the matching underwear ties on the sides with more ribbon; you’re not sure you’d be able to get them on without five minutes of struggling if you had to step into them. 

You look at yourself in the mirror and adjust the skirt of your lingerie. Despite the sheer fabric leaving little to the imagination, you look sweet. Innocent. Delicate. A grin spreads across your face; it’s perfect.

You get dressed just in time; you hear the shower turn off and the door opens a second later. “There, all clean and-” Mirio freezes at the sight of you and you see his fingers twitch against the towel wrapped around his waist. “Oh, wow. You look...just, wow.” He’s crossed the room faster than you can react, strong arms wrapping you in a tight, warm hug. “You’re so gorgeous like this, babe.”

You lean into his body; you’ve missed this while he was gone. “Well, it’ll be awhile before we can do this again. I figured we should really enjoy ourselves while we still can.” He nods and gives you a surprisingly gentle kiss. You can tell he’s holding back his strength for your benefit and the knowledge makes your heart flutter.

Mirio recovers from his surprise quickly and returns to his usual unstoppable energy. “I’m gonna make you feel so good, I promise!” His bigger hand is warm around yours as he guides you to your bed, losing his towel in the process. You don’t hide your staring; his body is gorgeous after so many years of training and you could look at him for hours. He sits back against the headboard and carefully brings you with him to straddle his lap, and you feel his cock already growing hard against your thigh. “We’ll take it easy,” he promises. “I know we have to be a little more gentle now since you’re so big-” You stare down at Mirio silently, but he continues. “What? You are big, that’s a good thing. You’re growing our baby in there, he needs all that room!” You just shake your head; you can’t really feel annoyed when he’s this sweet.

He looks up at you with pure affection written all over his face and leans into your touch as you run your fingers through his damp hair. “How can you be this buff and this adorable?” It’s not the first time you’ve asked as much, and every time he laughs you off with a faint blush on his cheeks. You lean in for another kiss while his hands move from your hips over your ribs to the front of your slip.

“This is so pretty, you should keep it on.” He gives your chest a squeeze and you whine, too sensitive from the hormones wrecking havoc on your body. You knew your breasts were going to get bigger, but they’ve turned out to be overachievers and you’ve jumped up two cup sizes already. “They’re still really sore, huh?” You nod and he offers you a comforting smile as he plays with the bow before finally tugging it open. Your nipples are already hard, and you don’t miss how he licks his lips when his thumb brushes over one. “I could help you with that, if you want.”

“Mirio…” You love your husband and all his enthusiasm, but you’re well aware that he can be a little too eager and get carried away. He’s being careful now as his fingers trace against your warm skin, his touch barely teasing you. He pulls you closer; you can feel the smile on his lips as he leans into your neck. He follows your pulse, down your collarbone to leave kisses at the swell of your breast and you sigh. “Okay,” you agree. “Just remember to-”

“I know, be gentle. Don’t worry babe, I’m gonna take good care of you.” He pushes your lingerie out of the way to get a better view at your heavy chest and appreciates the sight of it. “Man, our kid’s not gonna be lacking on calcium, is he?”

“I love you, please stop talking.” He laughs but obeys, his tongue flicking over your nipple and making you squirm in his arms. He does it a few times and you let out a little gasp when he takes you into his mouth. “Go easy,” you remind him, but he’s already distracted with his task. You asked your doctor about doing this before and were told it was perfectly fine, but you can’t quite shake the thought that it’s a little weird as Mirio begins to suck at your tender nipple.

You’ve tried this before, but every time he’s been too rough in his excitement and you’ve had to yank his head away from you in pain. Tonight though, he’s trying his best and after a few seconds of discomfort there’s an unfamiliar tingle deep in your breast as your body responds to his stimulation. “It feels weird,” you groan, but your fingers thread into his hair so he won’t pull away. “It’s not bad, just weird.” You’re not entirely sure you like what he’s doing, but you’re willing to continue until you figure it out. His tongue brushes over you with a slightly different motion, and something in you clicks into place. “Can you do that again? I think I liked that.”

His laughter is muffled but still obvious and you can feel the smile against your skin. Mirio’s happy to assist, one strong hand settling on your back to keep you steady. It wasn’t a mistake; he repeats his movements and you realize that it feels good. It feels really good, you have to admit, as his eyes slip closed so he can focus entirely on pleasing you like this. You hold him tight to your body, fingers running through his messy hair while you enjoy the affection so happily given. You’re still sensitive though, and after a few more minutes you start to get overwhelmed and have to pull him away.

“It tastes good.” His grin is huge as he licks his lips. “It’s sweet, just like the rest of you.” You’d roll your eyes if he wasn’t so cute. He gives your breast a gentle squeeze and earns another whimper from you, then turns his attention to the other one. “Don’t want this side feeling left out, right? Lucky I’m here to take care of everything!” Your heart skips a beat, you’re so in love with this silly, wonderful idiot. You don’t get a chance to respond, once his mouth is back on you it’s hard to do anything besides pant and whine for him.

You squirm against him, his dick pressing against your thigh and your panties doing very little to hide how much you’re loving this. “Miriooo,” you moan, and the look in his eyes is nothing but pure happiness that makes you melt. “You always take good care of me,” you coo, reaching down to stroke his cock lightly. “You’re so good to me, honey.” He pulls you closer and releases your chest to look up and meet your eyes.

“Babe, I’m just giving you what you deserve. You’re literally making a brand new, little person in there. If that’s not worth being extra nice, I don’t know what is.” He really has no idea how perfect he is. His thumb brushes over your nipple and your body is so sensitive now it makes you shudder. “Alright now?”

You stop for a second to consider. Your breasts do feel a bit lighter, there’s less pressure weighing down on you after his help. “Yeah, thanks. You’re the best, really.”

He brushes off your compliment in favor of pulling at the strings holding your underwear together. “Just doing my job, miss.” He groans at the sight of you fully naked and traces a finger along the lips of your cunt. You hadn’t noticed just how wet you were getting as he’d worked on your nipples, but now two of his fingers slip inside you with no effort. “I love you so much,” he says with another kiss.

You buck into his hand mindlessly, too eager for his touch after only a few days. You want to hold off and come with his dick buried inside you, but you can’t deny yourself when you’re this needy already. “I want it,” you whine pitifully.

His other hand gives your hip a reassuring squeeze. “I know, baby. You can have whatever you want, just tell me.” His thumb swirls over your clit and he doesn’t miss the jolt that runs down your body. “Right there, huh? My pretty little wife wants me to make her come?” His smirk is playful and there’s a glint of mischief in those friendly eyes.

“Mirio, please.” Hearing him talk like that does something to you and you hide your face in the crook of his neck.

His hand moves faster and your pussy clenches tight around his fingers. “It’s alright, I’ve got you. Just let yourself go for me.” His voice is so warm and soothing, you can’t resist. Your orgasm is marked with desperate whispers in his ear as his hand moves gently between your thighs to urge you on. “That’s it, honey. You’re so good, I want more of you.”

It takes you a minute to calm down before you’re able to pry your sweaty face away from his shoulder. His fingers leave you aching to be filled again, and you swallow hard when you watch him bring them to his mouth to lick them clean. 

“That’s my girl,” he smiles like the sun and you look away, almost embarrassed by the affection between you two. You can’t see anything past your swollen belly, but you can feel his thick cock ready for a turn. “Are you up for more? It’s fine if you need to wait-”

You fumble blindly for his cock until the tip presses just outside your cunt. “I want you inside me. Here, Mirio. Your pretty little wife wants to make you come.” The blush spreading across his face at your words is a special reward of its own. His hips thrust upward to enter you while he slowly pulls you down to meet him, and your mouth falls open in a long moan. “Fuck, Mirio. We’ll have to wait a couple weeks after he’s born and it’s gonna suck so bad.”

He hasn’t put much thought into this fact and you can practically see the gears in his head turning. “Well then, I guess we’d better make it count while we still have the chance,” he says finally. He’s always so much stronger than you, even when you’re not in such a delicate condition, and easily sets a steady pace moving you up and down his dick. You cling to his shoulders to steady yourself as you ride him, pressing your tongue into hs mouth to devour his sounds. This may be the peak of happiness, with your sweet husband pounding away inside your excited pussy, showering you with compliments about how great you are and how perfect your little family is going to be. “And once he gets a little older, we can start working on his siblings!”

Your hips falter in their rhythm at the suggestion. “S-siblings? Already?”

He grins back at you. “Of course! We need five or six, at least!”

“Five or six…” you repeat, suddenly distracted by the thought of doing this another half-dozen times. You don’t know why you’re surprised, it’d be more of a shock if he didn’t have infinite love to share. The idea doesn’t bother you, and you find yourself returning his smile with a smirk of your own. “You really wanna fill me up that much, Lemillion?”

You’re not expecting his thrusts to speed up so much or for him to pull you down so hard you’re gasping for air. “God, babe. So much. I think about it like, all the time now. You have no idea.” He stops to kiss you again, and your cunt squeezes hard around him. “I can take more time off of work,” Mirio insists mindlessly, getting far too ahead of himself. “I bet I can hold so many babies at once.”

You laugh, he’s so ridiculous sometimes. “Let’s just focus on this one for awhile, okay?” He nods, trailing his lips down your throat to feel how fast your pulse is racing for him. You can feel another orgasm building, and that he isn’t far behind. You were only apart for three days but it seems like far too long. “You’re really, really the best.”

He cups your sweaty face in one hand, the look in his eyes so soft and loving it takes your breath away. There aren’t enough words to describe how much you love him right now, and clearly it’s the same for him. Wordlessly he releases you and drags his hand down your body, stopping to tweak your nipples and making you cry out. His fingers drop to rub firmly against your clit, and your back goes rigid. “Miri-ohh. Just like that, I’m gonna...there, fuck.” You clamp down hard on his cock with a loud moan and he holds you tight, supporting your overworked body while you come. “Here,” your voice is ragged. “Your turn, I know you’re dying to come inside me.”

“You’re amazing, honey.” That last compliment is all he gets out before his pace goes sloppy and you feel him flooding your pussy with a low groan. “You’re so amazing.” 

You cling to him while he gradually wears himself out and stay wrapped up in his arms for the next few minutes. Eventually, there’s a firm kick in your belly that informs you that someone noticed all your movement and he’s not happy about it. Both of you laugh as you separate; you flop down on the bed while Mirio cleans you up and finds you a comfy, oversized shirt and fresh panties to wear. It’s still fairly early, and you won’t be tired enough to sleep for a few hours.

“Now that was a welcome home gift. You should just wear that around the house until you have the baby, it looks really great on you.”

You ruffle his messy hair. “I don’t think it would survive the entire month around you,” you tease. You stretch your arms above your head and feel a grumble in your stomach. “So, the surprise wasn’t steak for dinner tonight?”

He’s in too good of a mood to even think of denying you. “It is now!” He’s already fumbling for his phone to look up menus. “Whatever you wanna eat, just say the word!”

Sometimes you wonder how you ever got so lucky.

[lottiebagley]

Family Reunions- George Weasley

Three years imagining a life together Love your family more than we loved each other I said I’d keep in touch and I did But the more we keep in touch, the more I miss him

The second she enters her small flat she can feel her entire world shatter around her. Leaning her back against the door as she sinks to the ground, head dropping into her hands as she wipes furiously at her eyes, trying to push the tears back in.

Once a week she had attended dinner at the burrow, it was nice, good to see Molly and Arthur and whichever kids were around, of course George was never there, the date marked in his calendar in a red pen reminder to not go home that day. To sleep and eat at the flat.

The family had been heartbroken to hear that he had broken up with his girlfriend, after the war he had committed all his time to helping Fred. His twin needed every last bit of his attention, helping with his physical therapy and his dwindling mental state and so George's relationship had taken a back seat. She hadn't minded, in fact she had understood, she even committed herself to helping too.

But a year after George decided to call things off, Fred was better, he was walking and he was happier and he was working again. It was the perfect time for him to focus on his relationship, after all the girl had proven herself time and time again. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. Maybe it was that he felt like he needed a minute alone.

Maybe it was the feeling that she was so much better than him. Maybe it was his mother's constant talks of rings and weddings. He wasn't quite sure but all of a sudden he felt like he was suffocating.

He sat her down in his bedroom in the flat. Explained that she wasn't the one and it didn't feel right anymore. He had watched as she cried and had attempted to comfort her only for her to push him away, fleeing his flat leaving a baffled Fred on the living room sofa, television on in front of him, wondering why the girl who may as well be a sister just left the flat in floods of tears.

George still visions his mother's face when he closes his eyes, the look on her face when he told her he ended his relationship. He remembers her disappointment. He remembers his brothers shock. He remembers his dad's sad sigh. He remembers his sister's passionate rant about how he never deserved her anyway.

As the girl cries on her hallway floor she vows that she will stop. Stop seeing the Weasley's. Not because she doesn't love them with every fibre of her being but because she couldn't handle the heart break. Couldn't keep sitting at their dinner table without his hand on her knee. Couldn't keep sitting on the swing set without him laughing and pushing her. Couldn't keep helping Molly clean plates without him sat on the counter teasing her.

Tell your sister if she hears from her ex I can’t be the one that she calls And as much as I love talks with your dad I need him to leave me alone Cause I can’t find the words to express The way that I wish I was the one But friends don’t bring friends to family reunions

Her resolve to stop seeing the Weasley's was gone by the next morning.

She woke up to a missed call from Charlie and called back, chattering away about his upcoming trip home as she got ready.

She arrived at her job at the ministry and met up with Hermione for coffee, deciding that when she eventually cut her ties she would keep Hermione. The girl was like a younger sister, although so was Ginny, but she figured one last tie to the family, someone to hear their news from would do no harm.

Arthur knocked on her office door in his lunch break, bringing with him sandwiches made by Molly and asking her to eat with him and she didn't have the heart to say no, so instead they ate in her office and talked merrily about the infestation of singing sunglasses he was dealing with today.

As she left her office she received a phone call from Ginny, who ranted about how annoying Harry was being and how now she had graduated and was training she felt like she had no time to focus on her relationship.

It was after she assured the girl that her and Harry were meant to be as she walked through the Leaky Cauldron she knew what she had to do.

She got a flat above a bookshop on Diagon Alley simply to be near George and now everyday, walking past his store, felt like torture. She hadn't been in the store, she'd avoided it like the plague even when Fred asked her to come and hang out with him and George wasn't working. So as she walked into the atmospheric shop her heart felt like it was sinking in her chest.

"Hey sweetheart, you all okay?" Fred asks with a bright grin, he's leaning on his cane for support and eyeing the door.

She could cry looking at him. Not just because he looks identical to the man who fell out of love with her and she still pined desperately for. No. Today the tears she blinks back are practically grief, she knew that, realistically, she would see Fred around, but she wouldn't be able to call him a friend anymore.

"I uh- could I speak to George?" she questions, Fred smiles gently, noticing her pained tone.

"Yeah, of course, you can go on up," he assures. She nods shooting him a small smile, but pauses on the stairs.

"Hey Freddie,"

"Yeah,"

"I want you to know that I am really proud of you, of the shop and of how much better you are and I mean when I first met you who'd have thought you'd end up here. I just-well I love you and I am really proud," She blinks back tears as she speaks, almost wishing she would get a chance to say a goodbye to all the Weasley's.

Fred smiles gently, somewhere in him he can tell, tell that this is goodbye and he's about to loose a friend.

"I love you too sweetheart, just remember no matter what that I am always going to be here for you,"

They share eye contact for a moment, both knowing and not saying it. Fred understood, he can only imagine how hard it must be to still be a part of his family's lives after George. He knew the girl in front of him loved his twin brother more than anything, he knew that deep down George loved her just as much, and yet here Fred stands, a silent goodbye hanging in the air.

Phone calls Sweet notes All the little things I used to love Now they just remind me that I was never enough We said we’d keep in touch and I tried But the more we keep in touch, the less I move on in life

"Hey George," she speaks quietly, standing in the hallway of his flat as he stands staring at her shock.

It's been a month since he saw her and his heart leaps at the sight of her, at her standing there with a small smile and teary eyes and a pencil skirt and blazer and messy hair and she's just her. She is her and it's everything he's been missing. He wonders as he stares at her how he ever thought that she wasn't the one. That she wasn't perfect. That she wasn't made for him.

Her own eyes are wide, seeing him sparking something in her that she didn't even know existed. He's shirtless, a white towel wrapped around his hips and his hair damp from the shower he just clearly had. Her eyes scan his toned chest, his broad shoulders, the light sprinkles of freckles. His scent, his cinnamon body wash, is so strong that it practically invades her body and she could scream and cry and all she wants is to kiss him.

"Oh-shit-hi. Is everything alright?" He's worried to see her, had someone died? Was she okay? Merlin, he wanted her to be happy more than anything in the world.

"Hey," she speaks quietly, backing a way a little when he tries to move closer, not wanting to be close enough that she could reach out and touch him.

"You said that already," he teases gently, testing the waters.

"I'm sorry- I-" she cuts herself off, not sure how to say anything that she wants to

"Hey, it's okay. You're okay," he comforts her gently "Why don't you go sit down, I'll get dressed and come, just give me a minute," he offers, she nods her head slowly.

When he enters the living room it feels natural. Seeing her sat on his sofa waiting for him feels right. He thinks for a second about how it could all be different. How he could be in pyjamas and she could be in one of his shirts, how he would jump on her and laugh when she tells him he is squashing her, how he'd have held her as they watch a film and make-out and he'd cook for her and they'd drink wine and enjoy a blissful Friday evening, wrapped up in each other.  

"You're all dressed up. Going anywhere nice?" she questions, eyes scanning his white dress shirt and jeans.

"The Italian, the one in Camden town,"

"With the little dog and the red wine?" she questions, George lets out a laugh at the memory of the time he took her there, it was a month after the war, thinking back it was probably the last time he took her out. He got so busy with Fred and the shop and she'd not been a priority when he knew she should have been, she never seemed to mind though.

"That's the one,"

"So, it's a date," she smiles gently, heart splintering in her chest

"Uh, yeah. Yeah it is," he confirms, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly

"That's great, do I know her?"

"Angelina," He admits quietly. She nods, forcing a smile.

"That's great George, I'm really happy for you. I'm sorry to disturb you-"

"No!" he cuts her off a little too eagerly, a little too happy to see her. "No, you are fine being here. I want to help with whatever is happening," he assures her

"Right, well I won't keep you long," she nods awkwardly

"Hush, none of that nonsense, take all the time you need," he reassures her, sitting down next to her on the sofa but keeping a respectful distance apart.

"So-well- I know that this is-" she cuts herself off with a sigh "Sorry, this is just...awkward,"

"Hey, it's just me. You can say anything," He moves his hand to place it gently on her knee, his heart stops at the way she gently pulls her leg away.

"I need you to tell your family to stop talking to me,"

"What?" he snaps, suddenly quite offended. "My family have been nothing but kind to you and-"

"Christ! it's not like that!" she gasps, he sighs

"Then what?"

"I can't be a part of their lives anymore. I know it sounds so selfish and I wish it was different but- George- I love your family. I really do. I just- being around them hurts. It kills me. It makes me want to just drop dead because every time I talk to them I think of you. Being in your house I can feel you and- I- it hurts. It hurts too much," She admits it in a tired whisper, George feels his heart break at the thought of her heartbroken because of him.

"Okay. I'll talk to them," he speaks quietly, she nods and stands.

"Goodbye George,"

"I'll see you around?" he asks quietly, the thought of this being it makes his heart hurt. When his family were stealing seeing him all the time it wasn't as bad, he always knew what was happening in her life. This, this was final.

"Yeah. Yeah maybe,"

Tell your sister if she hears from her ex I can’t be the one that she calls And as much as I’ll miss talks with your dad I need him to leave me alone Cause I can’t find the words to express The way you don’t think I am the one And friends don’t bring friends to family reunions

For the next six months George hears nothing. Without his family seeing her he has no idea how she is, if she's okay, if she's happier now. He lays up at night thinking about her and wishing he could turn back time.

She hears scraps, staying in touch with Hermione, she knows about Ron in depth, hears bits and pieces about the rest of the family. Too awkward to ask if George is okay, if he's happier without her, if he's with Angelina now.

Bill receives a card when his little girl is born but she doesn't pick up the phone when he calls her. Fred gets a text message when he finishes his physical therapy but when he replies it's left on delivered. Ginny swears up and down that she saw her in the stands of her first professional quidditch game but can't prove it.

So, with dread filling her body and curses at her nephew flying in her mind she enters Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. She's hoping to go unseen by the twins, they had staff now and maybe they would never have to find out her annoyingly loveable nephew wanted a reusable swamp for his 12th birthday and absolutely nothing else would do.

"Hello, welcome to Weasley's Wizard- oh, hi," George's voice sounds anxious when he snaps his head up to see her standing like a deer in the headlights in the almost empty shop.

"Hey,"

"Is everything alright?" George wonders if the way his mind automatically jumps to something awful having happened because of the war or because he can't think of any other reason after everything he put her through that she would want to be anywhere near him.

"It's Max's birthday next week," she announces

"Yeah. 12, right?" George questions with a lopsided grin. He adored her nephew, the kid as giggly and energetic and just like him and Fred were as kids. He also loved the way she was around kids.

"Yeah," she confirms, surprised he remembers. "He, uh, started school,"

"Made Gryffindor I'm sure," George smiles, it's the first genuine smile he's let out in weeks

"Yeah. The first thing he said when he saw me at Christmas was that I just had to tell uncle George, didn't shut up about you once. I didn't have the heart to tell him we broke up so..." she trails off.

"He's a good kid,"

"He is. Professor McGonogall isn't quite so set on him,"

"Nah, she always loves the trouble makers," George smirks

"That's true," She smiles gently "Anyway, so he wants a portable swamp and nothing else instead for his birthday, so," she trails off once more, gesturing to herself.

"Well of course," George grins, pushing himself off the front desk that he had been resting on and striding across the shop floor to grab one. He grabs a basket, walking around the floor and plucking any product he thinks the kid might like, even a few unreleased things from the back room before returning to where she is standing at the front till with a small smile on her face.

"George-" she starts, he shushes her immediately.

"I'll gift wrap them for you," he announces, placing the full basket on the till

"You don't have to that," she protests but he laughs

"Actually, I kinda do. You are the worst at wrapping gifts," he teases making her smile.

"You got me there," she admits

"Yeah. So, how've you been," He begins scanning products through the till and wrapping them with ease

"Uh good. I got a promotion-"

"Wow! that's fantastic, and so well deserved,"

"How would you know?" She blushes as she speaks, not looking at the boy

"I do read the paper y'know? What is it now 100 war criminals you have single handedly found," he bolsters, she'd always wanted to be an auror but becoming so high up that she reported directly to the minister and had a big fancy office was only in her wildest dreams until now.

"What about you? How's things?" she questions

"They're good. Shop's going great and Fred's only getting better by the day. Little Victorie is so perfect and yeah life is, well, it's good," He can't bring himself to say that as much as everything is perfect he can't find it in him to be happy without her by his side.

"And Angelina?"

"We decided we were way better as friends. You dating?"

"I'm married to the job," she shrugs, not wanting to say she doubted she would ever fall in love again without him.

"I get that," he nods, placing the pile of wrapped up parcels into bags. He physically laughs when she grabs her purse and begins to gather money

"Sweetheart, you're not paying for any of this. I only rang it through the till because we have to stock management,"

"George, that is so kind but I can-"

"Yes you can, if it makes you feel better stick my name on a couple of the tags alright?"

"I will, I promise that I will," she nods, taking the bags from his hand "Thank you,"

"No bother. Give Max my best, yeah?" He smiles, she nods and he watches as she leaves the store, his heart that he hadn't even realised was practically beaming dulls back down when she goes.

Tell your mom to stop sending me recipes she finds on the internet And when your brother wins homecoming king

I won’t be there to witness it And when you find the words to express the way you don’t think I am the one And friends don’t bring friends to family reunions If we’re just friends don’t bring friends to family reunions

"You busy?" Hermione leans in the doorway of her office

"I can make a couple minutes, what's up? We had coffee three days ago," she reminds as the brunette steps into the office, closing the door behind her and settling in the seat across the desk.

"I know and I wanted to ask then but I couldn't bring myself to it because I feel so bad asking," Hermione explains, twisting the diamond ring on her finger anxiously.

"'Mione, you can ask me anything. You know that if it's physically possible I'll do it," she assures, putting the papers she had been reading down to give her friend undivided attention.

"You're one of my best friends," Hermione states

"And you're one of mine," The girl nods, eyebrows furrowed in concern

"And when somebody does something big in their life they want their best friends there,"

"Hermione what ever you need I'm there. 100%"

"Big things like getting married. I'm getting married, you know that, I mean to say Ron and I have picked a date and it's four months away and we are getting married at the burrow in a marquee by the lake. I know it's a lot to ask of you. I mean it's not just some ex, it's George, and I know how hard it's been for you without him and I hate myself for asking. And it's not just seeing him it's being there, I mean you fell in love with him there and it's not just him it's all of them and I understand if you say no, but, I want you there," Hermione rambles

"Of course," She speaks without thinking, never would she not attend her friends wedding "Hermione, I would love nothing more than to be there,"

"Really?" Hermione beams

"Merlin, 'Mione did you think for a second I wouldn't come, it's your wedding,"

Love them like they are my own But I don’t think I’ll ever move on If you don’t , If  you don't

It had been the most obvious thing in the world to say yes when Hermione asked, but now, standing in a stupid, but undeniably beautiful, pale blue bridesmaid dress she felt nervous. Hermione had insisted she had no obligation to see the Weasley's until the wedding day, she knew how her friends heart ached for not just George but the whole family, and wanted to make the whole thing as painless as possible.

But now, standing in the empty kitchen the morning of the wedding, the girl wondered how to breathe. She arrived by floo powder, already changed and ready like Hermione had instructed as she was getting ready with her muggle family.

She wasn't sure what she expected but it wasn't the empty, quiet room she was standing in.

She lets out a sigh, blinking back tears, the scent feeling like coming home.

"Sweetie, how are you?" She hadn't even realised Molly had entered the room from the back door until the familiar woman is pulling her into a hug.

"I'm okay, how are you?" she questions as Molly pulls away. If it were anyone else Molly would have rushed away, much too busy with preparations, but it wasn't. Molly loved the kids her children brought home in her life like her own, she missed the girl but understood that she needed space. One look at the tears in her eyes tells Molly that right now she needs to be here.

"I'm good. We are all good," Molly assures, gently guiding the girl to sit. "Now, tell me honestly, how are you?

"I'm just sorry," She admits, voice cracking and tears spilling onto her cheeks. "You must all hate me,"

"Sweetie, no one here hates you, not even for a second. We adore you," she assures, rubbing the girl's shoulder comfortingly

"All of you were always so welcoming and kind and then I just stop speaking to you all. I was so rude and I'm so sorry. Merlin, I didn't even tell you myself I made George do it,"

"None of that. You don't have to be sorry. We are the sorry ones. My son broke your heart and we were all wrapped up in loving you and wanting to be part of your life that we didn't stop to think how hard it would be for you. To be here and to talk to us. You needed to heal, no one is mad at you. We just miss you, and when or if you ever want to come back you will be welcomed with open arms," Molly assures her, grabbing a tissue to dab the girls cheeks dry.

"I missed you so much Molly," she sighs

"I missed you too dear, and I know George misses you,"

"I miss him. Every day I miss him,"

The moment is cut short when Charlie strides in through the front door "Thought I smelt trouble," He beams, wrapping his arms around the girl "Come help me with the daises, Hermione wants like a thousand and Perce is useless,"  He informs, an arm wrapped around her shoulder. She looks almost anxious and he rubs her shoulder gently "He's upstairs with Ron," he whispers gently

"You're welcome to go and speak to him if you'd rather," Molly informs, she wanted her son to be back with the girl more than anything.

"It's okay I'm happy to help,"

"Thank Merlin, I'd strangle Percy if you aren't there to stop me,"

Tell your sister if she hears from her ex I can’t be the one that she calls And as much as I’ll miss talks with your dad I need him to leave me alone Cause I can’t find words to express The way that I wish I was the one But friends don’t bring friends to family reunions

"I saw mum put you to work earlier," George's voice calls through the dark night air. She's sat in the tree house in the garden, the wedding a small distance away.

"I never mind," she shrugs as she watched him climb the ladder, he sits down next to her, legs dangling over the edge next to hers.

"Thought I'd find you here," He comments, he had built the tree house one summer when they couldn't get a minute alone. It was the first summer she spent there, between 4th and 5th year, she fell in love with him in that tree house.

"Just needed a minute," she sighs

"Yeah. It's beautiful but it's kind of a lot,"

"Weddings when you're depressingly single are often a lot," she shrugs, he chuckles at that.

"I have no clue how you are single," He comments, eyes trained on the starry sky above them

"Well, you dumped me so," she teases, a light laugh in her voice. He rolls his eyes, bumping his body to hers, for the first time since the breakup she doesn't move away from his touch. Not wanting to waste the opportunity but also not wanting to push her he settles for pressing his leg next to hers, her foot wraps around his leg holding him close to her without her even noticing, it's second nature, instinctive.

"I'm serious. You're so incredibly kind, and funny, and smart and good in bed," he adds the last one as a joke, laughing when she playfully swats his arm "and I mean, look at you right now, you're like a fucking goddess. You always are. How had no one swept you up?" He questions, and he means every word of it.

"Honestly?" she questions

"Always,"

"They've tried. I mean boys ask me out or try and get with me, but- I- well I never say yes, it's not fair to go on a date with someone when you're in love with someone else,"  She admits, she is staring straight ahead, not looking at him, so she misses the grin that brightens his face.

"That's why Angelina and I decided on friends," he admits, she hums in response not sure what to say. A comfortable silence falls over them, the sound of music from the party the only thing filling the air.

"You wanna dance?"he asks suddenly

"Sure," she agrees, he jumps down from the tree house, it's a little stupid but not unsafe and they've done it a thousand times before. She follows suit and his hands grab her waist to steady her when she stumbles a little in her heels.

He keeps his hands there, pulling her closer to him as hers wrap around his neck.

"Always thought you looked so good in blue," he admits as his thumb strokes her waist, the silky material soft under his grip. "Like a princess," he adds

"Always thought you looked so good in a suit," she grins, blushing a little as he twirls her around

"I miss you," he hums out, pulling her back closer this time, her head resting on his chest.

"I miss you," she returns.

"Y'know I never stopped loving you. Not even for a second. I regret it. More than anything," he's practically whispering and his heart stops when she stills in his arms.

"I can't do this," She whispers, tugging herself from his arms

"Darling-"

"No. George, I love you, more than anything. So I can't. It's your little brother's wedding and you are lonely and you are all mixed up and we haven't seen each other in so long and weddings, merlin weddings, they confuse everything and I can't. I can't do this one last night thing. I'm sorry,"

Before George can reply, can tell her that she's so far from right she's turned around and is speeding back towards the party.

Tell your mom to stop sending me recipes she finds on the internet And when your brother wins homecoming king I won’t be there to witness it And when you find the words to express That you don’t think I am the one And friends don’t bring friends to family reunions

She pulls her apartment door open a week after the wedding, surprised to see George Weasley a determined look in his eyes and soaking wet from the rain.

"George,"

"Hi. I need to talk to you," he doesn't seem nervous, he seems like there's a fire in his belly, a determination, a purpose, a need.

"Oh, sure. Come in," She moves aside, letting him in. "The living area is at the end of the hall. I'll go grab a towel," she directs.

He looks around the living area, it's open plan to the kitchen and it's cosy. Full of pictures and little trinkets, it is fundamentally her and his he feels more at home there despite having never been before than he does in his own flat.

She re-enters, throwing a fluffy baby pink towel at George before heading into the kitchen, grabbing an extra mug having been in the process of making tea when he arrived, and fixing them both a tea how they like it.

"So, you wanted to talk?" she prompts, sitting crosslegged on the couch, her fuzzy pjs and messy hair so domestic and beautiful he would marry her on the spot to get to see her like that every day.

"You said that you didn't want to do one last night, well, I don't either. It wasn't wedding goggles making me look at you different. I am in love with you. So, in love with you that being without you makes it hard to breathe and I want you back, not just for a night but for the rest of my life," He thinks he should be nervous but he's not. It's her. He could never be nervous with her.

"George, that makes no sense why would you-"

"Listen, I have never felt good enough for you. The whole time I've known you it was like you were so above me and I could never be on your level, no matter what happened you were always perfect. You were, and are, too good for me,"

"George, I have never been-" she starts but he cuts her off

"I had to help Fred. He is my twin brother, my best friend. He nearly died and I was terrified. He was nearly crushed to death and I realised I could loose him, I could loose anyone I loved. That included you, obviously, and that's how it started. I was scared to be with you because if I lost you I couldn't cope. I couldn't survive. So I started pushing you away. But you. Merlin, you're so good that it didn't matter. I pushed you away and I was wrong to do that but you didn't waver for a second. It was my responsibility to help Fred. To go to physical therapy with him. To hold him when he cried. To be there no matter. I would have done it no matter what. But you. You didn't have to do that. But you did. You didn't complain. You didn't walk away. You helped fix Fred even when I was being crappy to you," He rants

"George, I loved you and I still do. I would have done anything you asked me to, I still would. But I didn't help Fred because of you. I didn't do it for you. Not cause I was too good. I helped Fred because he's been my friend since I was 11. I helped Fred for Fred. Not for you," She explains, George sighs.

"I know. I just was in this state right? I was scared to loose you and you've always been too good for me and I just didn't know what to do. Then, Fred was getting better, and I felt empty. I wanted Fred happy and healthy of course but I'd become so used to spending all my time trying to fix things, trying to keep everyone afloat. It felt like everything stopped. Like no one needed me. I became obsessed with things I could. I couldn't fix you, I couldn't fix us, because nothing needed fixing. You were so perfect for me that I didn't need to fix it. That scared me. The more I thought about it the more I realised if I lost you, no one could fix me, I couldn't loose you but I wasn't good enough for you. It had to be me. My terms. My breakup. It was stupid, but that was I hadn't lost you I'd given you up and that was better," he explains, tears flooding her cheeks as she suddenly understands everything that's been happening for the past months.

"Georgie, you never needed to be scared. I'm not going anywhere, I promise,"

"I know. I'm sorry that I hurt you,"

"George, I love you,"

"I love you darling, more than anything," he smiles

"So another go?" she questions timidly

"If you'll have me," he nods, she grins. Hands shoving his shoulder's back to lay against the sofa, knees on either side of his waist. Her lips touch his for the first time in months and it's like they can breathe again.

They lay side by side in her bed that night, bare skin pressed to each other, holding each other as tightly as humanly possible.

"Can we stay here all day tomorrow? I just wanna lay with you," she speaks tiredly, her head on his chest

"Ron and Hermione get home from the honeymoon tomorrow," George informs, she moves her head to look at him "We have a dinner thing, looking at the wedding pictures too,"he continues

"That'll be nice. You aren't leaving my bed till the very last minute though," she decides

"You should come," he prompts, giving her a squeeze

"You really think your family won't mind?"

"Please, they love you. They'll just be glad to see we are back together,"

"We could be going as friends," She teases, he rolls his eyes

"Not to a family reunion we couldn't. Besides, I have every intention to hold your hand and kiss you the whole night so they'll probably catch on. Aside from Percy, bless him, he's socially inept,"

If we’re just friends don’t bring friends to family reunions If we’re just friends don’t bring friends to family reunions

**

Masterlist

[catwithangerissues]

Haikyuu Polyship hc’s!

♚ Hey hey hey! Welcome to a little collab that @tetsurocking and I have been working on for a few weeks now! Like two but still. We each chose three different couples and wrote headcanons about a poly relationship with them!

♚ My three!: Suna x Osamu x Reader! Tendo x Ushijima x Reader! And Futakuchi x Shirabu x Reader!

♚ Make sure to check out the three couples J wrote about over on her page! I promise you’ll find some stuff ya like😉 ‘I think about polyships too much for a monogamous bitch’ -J 😂 Anyways, enjoy!

♚ Warnings: Should be none! Although I reference high school in the past, everyone involved is aged up!

Suna x Osamu x Reader Poly!

✧ When you guys were in high school, Rinta would always send you videos of Osamu and him at practice; sometimes they were videos of the twins fighting, some were of them doing little tricks with the ball to get your praise, and some were just of them waving/saying they missed you

✧ They tend to spam your little group chat with memes while you’re at work or school, and sometimes they just spam you for attention <3

✧ They both really like it when you wear their clothing. Sometimes they get pouty if you wear one shirt or the other, but they never genuinely mind. In addition to this, they basically share a wardrobe. Is that Suna’s shirt or Samu’s? They don’t even know 🤷🏻‍♀️

✧ Suna probably sends you two pictures of the ugliest things he sees in a day and and puts a caption like « haha that’s you two. » that’s it. He probably doesn’t even bother to put a period at the end (Thanks for this one, Alma!)

✧ Suna takes tons of pictures with/of the two of you, and he changes his lockscreen background pretty often because of it. His favorite pictures are the ones he takes without you two noticing, hehehe

✧ These two are both really great drivers and they’re very smug about it. Food for thought 😌

✧ When you’re grocery shopping, they probably start eating what’s in the cart before you’re even out of the store.

✧ In addition to grocery shopping, don’t even TRY to tell Osamu one brand of a certain ingredient or food is better than another, he will throw a Miya Twin hissy fit™️ lmao

✧ They both keep extras of anything any of you may need in their cars. Period stuff if you’re someone who has one, hygiene products like deodorant and an extra shirt for Suna after practice, snacks for Osamu cause the poor boy always wants to eat in the car, etc.

✧ They both like to tease, but in reality they’re big softies for you. Want cuddles? Rinta is always flopping down on top of you once you sit on the couch. Need a back or shoulder massage? You don’t even have to ask Osamu at this point, he does it subconsciously.

✧ Suna prefers dates at home, lounging around and cuddled up, movie nights, dinner dates, etc. Osamu prefers lazy errand days. Going grocery shopping, cleaning the house together, dropping something off to Atsumu or grabbing lunch on the way home, he enjoys the domesticity of life with the two of you.

✧ DOING THEIR HAIR. Styling Suna’s hair for him in the morning or helping Osamu touch up his color before he goes back to brown.

✧ Holiday decorating, birthdays, and anniversaries are always fun with these two. To others, they’re relatively reserved, with a few sarcastic comments to spare *cough cough* we all know who I mean- But to you, they’re rambunctious and sweet. Making stupid jokes to see you laugh, babying you, all the like.

✧ Someone picking on you or getting a little too friendly? No need to worry, your two tall ass, intimidating boyfriends have your back. Suna is more of the- glare daggers at them until they get the hint- kinda person, but Osamu is definitely the- throw my arm around my partner and tell the other person to back off- one.

✧ Going to Suna’s games with Osamu to support him! Osamu once pretended to be a fan and asked for his autograph, and when Suna just looked him dead in the face and kisses him everyone around lost their minds.

✧ You and Suna visiting Osamu at work and bringing him lunch so he doesn’t have to make it himself! He has pictures of you three in his office too <3

✧ The boys visiting you at work/school saying it’s to playfully embarrass you, but usually it’s something like; bringing you lunch, coming to pick you up for a spontaneous date/adventure after you clock out, or just coming to sit in your office and bug you for a little while to get your mind off of work.

✧ They are both pretty possessive, but aren’t controlling. They just like to hold you, though Suna is the more reserved one of the boys when it comes to pda.

✧ ^That said, they like to show you off- a lot. Showing pictures of you or the other boy to their coworkers and teammates is a favorite of theirs.

✧ Whatever hobbies you’re into, they like to sit and watch you do. Reading, cooking (with Osamu?😌), baking, art, music, video games, etc. They just love to watch you do your craft! You’re so supportive of them and their dreams, the things they love, they try to repay the favor any chance they get.

✧ Suna is definitely one to just sit his head on your lap or shoulder and listen to you talk all day about something you love <3

Tendo x Ushijima x Reader Poly!

✧ Tendo has a massive collection of hoodies and he loves it when you two wear them. It makes him so happy to see you guys in something that’s his, a physical symbol that you two want people to know you’re with him.

✧ Both very affectionate partners, in their own ways. vv

✧ ^Tendo wasn’t very fond of pda at first, more so he wasn’t comfortable with it because he thought you two would be embarrassed to be seen with him. Once he found out you two weren’t embarrassed of him and wanted to show others your relationship, he was all for it! Usually likes to hold your hands or lean on one of you.

✧ ^Ushijima is more subtle with his affection, not because he’s scared or embarrassed, just that he prefers to do it in private. He knows you two know he loves you, so he doesn’t really see the need to be all over you in public. But in private? That man is always hugging you or nuzzling into your shoulder- he’s like a giant teddy bear.

✧ Ushijima loves to do all the domestic shit with you two. Cooking, cleaning the house, running errands. He’s just a sucker for feeling like a lil family with his two cuties.

✧ Tendo loves to plan the dates! Though if you want to, he’ll gladly let you! He likes to plan little day adventures for the three of you, whenever Toshi doesn’t have practice or training!

✧ Tendo likes to have his nails painted by you, and Ushijima likes to watch you two <3

✧ Matching nails with Tendo??? Mhm😌

✧ Protective boyfies! Let’s be honest here, it’s unlikely you’re gonna have too many problems with these two giants standing next to you. But if there ever is one, they definitely scare off whoever is bugging you quickly.

✧ These two are some of the most comforting people on here. They both had their share of not so great things happen to them growing up, Tendo being bullied and Ushijima basically being treated like a brute. The two of them became really good at comforting people, knowing how it feels to not have someone there to comfort you when you needed it.

✧ They’re big on cuddling to begin with, but if you’re ever sad or stressed? Prepare for Tendo making a pillow fort and Ushijima baking your favorite treats. These two are incredibly supportive and comforting when you need them <3

✧ Ushijima once got so fed up with Tendo being a little brat, he threw him onto his shoulder and walked around the house like that for a good half hour. Tendo thought it was hilarious and so did you

✧ Speaking of, he seems to really enjoy carrying the two of you around at random times. Piggyback rides, bridal style, or just like a koala clinging to him, he loves it.

✧ Tendo can sense a mood change in the two of you like it’s nothin. Seriously, the guy just knows when something is bugging either of you.

✧ The boys definitely ask if they can get a pet when you move in together. Tendo has a long list of crazy animals and Ushijima keeps suggesting a hedgehog for some reason.

✧ Regardless of what you decide on, you know these two are going to treat your pet like their baby. They’re going to spoil tf outta that little fella. 100% Tendo takes a million photos of them everyday. Ushijima doesn’t baby talk, he just talks to them normally about random things like volleyball and it’s pretty comical.

✧ Visiting Tendo at his chocolatier shop! He usually has very long days, and gets extremely happy when you two pop in to see him. Please bring this baby some lunch or dinner, he’s not a big eater and often forgets too. He has pictures of the three of you in his office too <3

✧ Watching Ushijima’s games and practices! This boy can’t get enough of the praise you and Tendo offer him! He loves seeing you sport his jersey with his name on the back, and he says seeing you two in the stands at practice or during a game really helps his focus?

✧ If you’re someone who has a period, these two are so sweet and thoughtful to ya. Tendo always makes the best chocolate, and Ushijima is basically a walking heater, he runs you hot baths too! Both handle mood swings very well and always make sure the pain meds are stocked in the house. 10/10 boyfies

✧ Please let Ushijima have as many house plants as he wants. He loves them and names each of them, he’s let you and Tendo name some before too! Catch this big teddy bear talking to his plants while he repots or waters them and your heart will melt </3

Futakuchi x Shirabu x Reader Poly!

✧ Salty, sarcastic, teasy boyfies- if you’re easily flustered, prepare yourself, they are going to use it against you. Calling you nicknames and saying things they know will make you start to stutter at any chance they get. (Lookin at you, Futakuchi) (please don’t think I’m making fun of people with a stutter, I have one myself.)

✧ Very protective, though they may not show it as often as some others do. Someone messing with you? You bet they’re next to you in an instant- offering several sarcastic remarks and a menacing glare from Shirabu, Futakuchi throwing an arm around you and bending down to the creeps level to further the intimidation.

✧ Both very comforting partners, if you’re feeling anxious or upset they’ll gladly take you into a big cuddle pile. Petting your hair or cheek, and telling you all the sweet things they can think of to see you smile.

✧ ^ Shirabu picks up on your insecurities very easily, especially if they’re similar to his own, and helps you learn to cope with and improve your mental health. Futakuchi has a gift for comforting people, always knowing what to say to make you feel 100x better about yourself or anything that’s bugging you <3

✧ Let’s not even get into what they’d say or do to the person if someone hurt your feelings, let alone made you cry. We’ll leave that to your imagination.

✧ Very competitive with each other. They constantly play fight for your attention, making comments about who’s shirt you wore today or who you ate lunch with- but it’s all in good fun.

✧ Futakuchi is a sly bastard, he really loves to fluster and tease tf outta you and Shirabae. For example: When Jirou gets mad at Kenji, Futakuchi just calls him his pretty boy or compliments how cute he looks when he’s angry and Shirabu becomes a complete flustered, stuttering mess.

✧ Going to visit Shirabu at work and/or bring him lunch! He doesn’t like to admit it, but he really does appreciate when you two come to visit and eat with him, especially during long shifts where he doesn’t get to see or talk to you two very much. He always becomes a blushy mess, waving off his coworkers with a glare when they comment on it- or when Futakuchi points it out

✧ Going to watch Futakuchi’s games! He’s very open with his appreciation for the two of you coming to watch his games! Either of you wear an extra jersey of his and it’s game on. He’s mindful to ask if you’re okay with hugs after, since he’s usually pretty sweaty, though.

✧ Of the two of them, Shirabu is the more perceptive one. He can easily pick up on any of the changes in mood the two of you may have, and it makes it easier to solve any issues you may have, rather quickly.

✧ In your relationship, Shirabu also gets frustrated the easiest. Whether it be with himself or the stresses of work and school, he finds himself getting frustrated and overwhelmed rather easily.

✧ You and Futakuchi are masters at calming him down by now, pulling him into a cuddle with lots of affirmation and he feels better in no time, offering to help with his work and take a bit of the load off cheers him up quite a bit too.

✧ Your boys are both very loving and cuddly when sleepy.

✧ Both getting overwhelming soft when you’re being cute, they just start to overload. Whenever you do anything remotely adorable, they can’t help but dote on you. SOFT BOI HOURS

✧ HEAD PATS! That is all. :)

✧ Futakuchi is the type to kiss you hard during an argument while Shirabu is the type to sulk and then come over to you later that night asking to cuddle.

✧ Random hc, but Futakuchi’s car is a fucking mess, I just know it.

✧ Saw this somewhere else, but it fits him! Futakuchi says yes ma’am/sir with a huge shit eating grin.

✧ You three have a good system when it comes to planning dates, taking turns every week or so, although Shirabu tends to prefer slow days/nights at home, given his busy(er) schedule.

✧ Another random hc, but I think Futakuchi has some sort of energy drink addiction and Shirabu is constantly nagging him about cutting it out of his diet because he aggressively cares for that boy.

✧ “Stop drinking that, idiot. It’s bad for you.” “Aww, Jirou~ are you worried about me?” “Shut up,,”

♚ Hope you enjoyed our little collab! Go check out @tetsurocking ’s part on her page! Believe me- it’s good😭 be warned! It does have nsfw content! Mine was gonna but some of you can’t follow rules😤

Taglist: @sunalma @toworuu @lovie-and-co (for your boys😌)

[360iris]

do you have any wips? sorry i’m just curious, i’m in love with your writing

Luv, Hold Me Down (Sirius Black x Reader, WIP)

Warning: Mature themes? I don’t know with this one.

Word count: 2,209

A/N: You’re gonna hate my ass because I have zero intention to finish the smut on this one shdhd. Maybe when I’m less busy I’ll come back and update it (although not atm). There are typos galore too so I’m sorry in advance!

—————————————-

The infamous Bubblegum Bomb Incident of 1972. Casualties: one.

During Year Two, Sirius had resolved to get revenge on Cissy’s insufferable boyfriend ever since he tripped him in the halls to get a laugh out of his Slytherin lackeys; and what better way to do that than ruining his precious platinum locks.

It was suppose to be a quick and untraceable procedure. He’d get to personally serve Lucius his own brand of justice and the job would be completed without having to suffer detention.

If only you hadn’t been rushing through the halls that day.

Lunch had just ended, and you were haphazardly ducking and dodging through the wave of students, on your way to visit Remus. He’d been sentenced to a strict, three day period of consistent bed-rest in the infirmary after a particularly bad transformation.

You’d just wanted to bring him a slice of his favorite Hogwarts style coconut cream pie, but one wrong turn and you were suddenly bombarded with three quick pelts of homemade exploding bubblegum bullets.

Sirius had designed them to be quick and lethal with their distribution of rubbery goo so that the target's hair was sure to be ruined.

The first shot sent the small plate in your hands completely airborne. The next two hit you square in the chest, knocking you fully onto your back.

The aftermath was so extreme that it took the combined effort of Professor McGonagall, Professor Flitwick, and eventually, the guiding hand of Madam Pomfrey to free you from the sticky sludge and off of the stone pavement.

By the time they’d got to the infirmary, your entire head of hair had been deemed unsalvageable by sweet Poppy, and the only thing she could figure to do was shave it clean off by hand.

You’d spent the next two days unexpectedly alongside a tired Remus, confined in the sick bay, crying your eyes out hysterically. You’d had no idea who had done this to you or why.

That was until the third day, when Poppy finally allowed visitors in, in hopes of lifting your spirits.

Your guests included:

An empathetic Lily and Mary, both girls bringing you and Remus an abundance of flowers from the greenhouses, with explicit approval from Professor Sprout; alongside the homework you’d missed and plenty of junk foods.

An overzealous Marlene who’d spent the entirety of the three days drafting up and collecting signatures for a petition to permanently ban disruptive joke shop type inventions.

And lastly, an uncharacteristically stonefaced James and solemn Sirius who both quietly observed the crucially placed scarf on your head meant to distract from your current state of baldness.

“Go on then. Tell her, man. It’s only proper.” James said abruptly with folded arms, for the first time ever foregoing his usual impeccable home-taught manners and any form of courteous greetings altogether.

You watched confused as Sirius stood some several feet away, staring directly down at his shoes. After another coarse verbal prod from James, he stepped forward, eyes wide and brows furrowed.

“I- You have to understand, I couldn’t have known, Y/N! It happened so suddenly and before I knew it, it was too late!” He pleaded desperately and you weren’t quite understanding what he meant.

“I don’t follow, Sirius. What are you on about?” You asked, watching as he began wringing his hands.

He looked over to James again, seemingly pleading for aid that wouldn’t come. James looked positively severe, intent on standing by his decision to have the boy do this by himself.

“I- I was the one who blew the gum bullets.” Sirius finally whispered, looking positively terrified of your reaction. “But I didn’t intend on hitting you, I promise! It was for that git Malfoy! Remember when he tripped me in front of all of those sixth years last month? I’d been working on a way to get him back ever since! You’ve got to believe me, Y/N!”

But you’d stopped listening after the initial reveal. Your blood ran cold and it was hard to focus on anything in particular before suddenly all of your senses came rushing back in, and you were furious.

And even though James and Remus had been gauging your response, neither could have been quick enough to match the speed at which you pulled off both of your slippers and hurled them at the older boy’s face.

Successfully managing to clock him so hard, he reflexively reached up to clutch his sore, but still intact nose.

After that day, you had deemed Sirius public enemy number one, he managed to outrank even the silver-spoon fed Slytherins and that antagonizing blight, Peeves.

While there were tonics for quickening hair growth, you cursed Sirius Orion Black, every time you had to awkwardly apply a plethora of random oils to your scalp and walk around campus bald for an entire semester.

When he looked your way, you glared back mercilessly. If he dared to even address you, your responses were far from being deemed PG-13.

He’d spent the first six months wearily but consistently trying to apologize, however the damage had already been done, and it’d destroyed any semblance of friendship he’d crafted with you beforehand.

So after a while, he gave up. If you were going to hate him regardless of his actions, he figured he might as well stand up for himself during the bickering matches that transpired whenever the two of you were less than six feet apart.

Over the years, you’d remained bestfriends with Remus and James, though they could never hang out with the both of you at the same time.

For example, if you were eating breakfast with the two boys in The Great Hall and Sirius arrived late after sleeping in, you’d promptly roll your eyes and slide away to talk with Lily.

——

“That most definitely is not healthy, James.” You grimaced, tilting your head back laughing. The book in your lap, long since abandoned from the moment your bestfriends entered the common room.

“Muggle five second rule, Y/N! You were the one who told me about it to begin with!” He grinned from his spot sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of you.

You couldn’t help bursting into a fit of giggles, desperately trying to respond. “Rem- Remus! Please! Inform him that it doesn't apply to dropping a sandwich down an entire flight of stairs!”

“Believe me I tried, but he seemed pretty determined to eat it, hair and all after catching up to it.” Remus replied softly, a fond smile playing on his lips as you began making gagging noises of disgust.

“No! James Fleamont Potter, tell me you didn’t actually eat hair!” You laughed, extending your socked foot to shove him.

“I will suffice by just saying that, there may or may not have been a stray hair or two on it when I picked it up- Oh! Sirius, how was detention?” James trailed off to greet a certain boy and your demeanor immediately soured.

Your textbook on alchemical runes suddenly seemed like the most interesting thing in the world.

“It was worth it. Mcgonagall must be getting tired of me because she had me choose a book and read for three hours. Don’t let me interrupt the fun though. Looks like you’ve finally coaxed the Ice Queen to defrost for a bit. Shame I wasn’t here to see it.” He remarks, and you didn’t need to be looking at him to know he was wearing that infuriating smirk.

“Don’t worry, Black. I’ll never be able to truly relax knowing you’re still out running amuck. Next time you get written up, I’ll be sure to beg Mcgonagall to keep you chained outside with the rest of the wild animals.” An acute look of disgust etches across your face as you close your book, promptly shoving it into your bag.

“If you’re so desperate to see me in a collar, the person you need to be begging is right in front of you, doll.”

You could not have rolled your eyes harder at his remark. In a huff, you tug the strap of your bag around your frame and stand indignantly.

“You’re actually right for once. James? Keep your mutt on a tighter leash, before I’m forced to be the one that puts him down.” You sneer, flipping your hair over one shoulder and striding up to the girls dormitory before he can get in another word.

Remus sighed, unhappily leaning back against the couch he was currently sprawled across. “You just can’t help yourself, can you?”

Sirius watched as your figure disappeared up the stairs before turning to the boy, a dumb smile playing on his lips.

“She doesn’t hate me nearly as much as she tries to make you believe.” Was all he offered giddily before skillfully changing the subject.

———

Much like the infamous playboy Sirius Black, you were known for how frequently you broke the hearts of anyone you hooked up with. They found that sex with you was a spiritual experience, but were usually crushed when you made it clear you weren’t interested in recurring partners.

When Gryffindor’s Quidditch team won a mid-season match against Ravenclaw, James was relentless in persuading you to come to the after party. And though you weren’t originally keen on the idea, you figured it’d be an ample opportunity to relieve some stress.

The night had gone well. You’d garnered a nice buzz from the punch James made in his dorm and had your eyes fixed on Theodore Nott who’d been snuck in by Marlene.

Sirius, who was working his way onto his third cup of punch, watched you make eyes with the Slytherin boy from across the room.

He sat silently seething as you adjusted in your spot on the couch, crossing your legs while holding that snake’s gaze. In the end, all it took was the simple curl of your index finger for Theodore to hand his drink to an unimpressed Marlene and approach you.

Sirius watched as the two of you exchanged a handful of words before you sultrily dragged the boy away by his collar.

It took a minute for him to register that the styrofoam cup in his grasp was crushed.

After grabbing a napkin, he irritatedly ran a hand through his hair and his breath was ragged.

Why did he care that you were probably seconds from fucking a random guy? He definitely wasn’t one to judge, he’d been with plenty of people over the years.

However, no matter how many times he rolled the idea around in his head, he was getting angrier by the minute.

Remus approached him to spark up a conversation, but he was already slipping past him, towards the direction he watched you disappear to earlier.

He found you in the hallway, lip-locked with Theodore who had a grip on one of your exposed thighs. Meanwhile your hands were tangled in his hair.

Sirius’ body switched into autopilot, moving at such a speed that his brain couldn’t even keep pace.

He had harshly pulled the boy off of you, slung you onto his shoulder and made his way to his dorm. Partygoers standing confused as you beat his back, yelling at him to let you go. Once he’s on the stairs away from prying eyes, he delivers a sharp slap to the exposed skin on your thigh.

“Stop screaming bloody murder, Y/L/N.” is all he says and you bite your lip at the sting.

By the time he locked his door and tossed you onto his bed you’re looking at him like he’s insane. Scurrying to get off the mattress but he quickly grabs you ankle, pulling you back to where he dropped you.

“What the fuck has gotten into you!?” You hiss, watching him run a hand through his locks.

“I’m tired of waiting for you to stop being a brat and realize you like me. Tired of watching you hop on random dicks that aren’t mine. You want to get laid tonight? Fine, fuck me then.” He growls and you’re instantly overwhelmed.

“Did a screw come loose in your head? I don’t know what the hell you’re on but I’m not fucking you all people!” You respond by grasping a pillow from his bed and chucking it at his head. He easily catches it with a roll of his eyes.

“I’ve loved you since our first year, Y/N. And I’ve observed you long enough to know if you genuinely hated me or not.” He confesses and you freeze. His eyes were crystal clear and you’re at a loss of words so he continues.

He gently grasps one of your hands, bringing it up over his heart. You can very faintly feel his heart racing and your brows furrow. He was actually being genuine.

“You want fuck me so bad you’ve officially gone stupid?” You ask but he sees the tiniest smirk on your lips. And for whatever reason, you actually let him move in to kiss you.

He jumps a bit when you bite his bottom lip and you giggle before he’s pressing you back onto the bed.

It’s a fight for dominance, neither of you wanting to be the one that relents.

[imagines4thefandoms]

The Ramen Filth (Batfam x Reader)

requested: no

word count: 18k+

“Y/n what are your plans for spring break,” your best friend (Bff/n) asked as the two of you walked out of your last class.

“I'm going to go home actually. I miss everyone,” you told them.

“So no trip to Bora Bora, a week on a yacht,” they asked slightly pushing you.

“Nope, just me my brother, father, Alfred, and my bed,” you replied pushing them back.

When you guys left the building they went to their car while you headed to your dorm room. It always surprised people when they found out that you lived on campus. “You’re a Wayne. Why don’t you live in some penthouse in the city.” “Why are you slumming it here?” Well, you wanted the whole college experience.

When you entered your dorm room, you tried to pack your bags quietly so as not to wake up your roommate. But that didn’t work cause when you were grabbing some clothes and throwing them into a suitcase, she woke up.

“Excited to go home,” they asked you sitting up in bed.

“I haven’t seen them since August,” you replied searching around your room for your car keys. “So maybe a little.”

After you found your keys, you proceeded to gather the rest of the stuff you were bringing home with you. Your roommate got out of bed and went to grab a drink from the fridge. You looked over at her and watched her shotgun a bud light.

“Jesus (r/n) it's 2 in the afternoon,” you exclaimed throwing your computer bag on your bed.

“Well for me it's breakfast,” she replied grabbing a hoodie from their closet and grabbing their backpack. “Well off to class. Drive safe.”

You shook your head at them and waved them off, while you grabbed some snacks to enjoy while at the manor. After grabbing, your suitcase, computer bag, backpack, purse, and dirty clothes you headed out to your car. There was quite a long walk from your dorm to your car cause parking is hell but many people had already left so there was a straight shot to the car. You popped the trunk of your car and put everything in the trunk.

After getting in the driver’s seat and starting the car. You set up your fave Spotify playlist and started to head back home. The college you attend is just outside Gotham which your father kind of insisted. You didn’t really object. Sure you loved Gotham even with all the craziness it held but it has been nice being able to walk around town and not get mugged or have a city block shut down due to dad and the joker.

Once you crossed Gotham City limits, you kind of tensed up and double-checked that the doors were locked but once you were closer to Wayne Manor you started to relax. You really enjoyed the scenery on the ride home. It reminded you of when Dad first brought you home after your mother left you at GCPD with a note letting them know you belong to Bruce.

The Manor came into view and you saw Damian and Titus running around in the yard. You pulled up to the front door and Titus jumped at your door, either he was excited you were home or ready to attack you. Damian called Titus over to him then ran over to open the door for you.

“Sister you’re home,” he said in his usually monotone but this time he gave hug.

“I missed you to bud,” you replied hugging him back.

He helped you get your stuff out of your trunk and carried it into the house. You placed your suitcase and dirty closed by the front door while Damian brought the rest to your room. Jason was in the living room with Tim playing video games. Dick was either at work or in the cave training and the same could be said for dad.

“Honey I'm home,” you called out.

“Y/n,” Jason and Tim yelled running to give you a hug.

Jason tripped Tim in order to hug you first. Tim got up, punched Jason in the arm then gave you a hug. You missed this. Your annoying brothers. They didn’t give you time to breathe. They just grabbed your arm and pulled you over to the couch to play their video games with them. Alfred walked into the room and a smile appeared on his face when he saw you.

“Welcome home, miss. Y/n,” he said walking over to you to give you a hug.

“I missed you,” you replied returning the hug.

“I suppose you have something for me,” he asked letting you go.

“Yes sir, by the front door.”

Once Alfred left you decided to play a round or two with Jay and Tim. You were so in the zone of kicking their asses you didn’t notice when your dad came home. He just stood behind the couch and watched four of his kids play video games without a care in the world.

“Come one, you weren’t smart enough to see that coming college girl,” Jason teased as he was beating you.

“Prepare to die again Jason,” you said as you beat the crap out of him and killing him.

“You cheated,” he said throwing down the controller.

“No you just suck, Todd,” Damian said defending you.

Someone behind you coughs. You turned around as saw dad and Dick standing there. You got up from the couch and ran to give your dad a hug. After he left you to go, which took a while you gave your favorite older brother a hug.

“I missed you,” you said looking between your brother and father.

“Right back at ya kid,” Dick said ruffling your hair.

After giving your dad another hug, you returned to kick Tim’s ass this time. You kicked Tim’s Damian’s, Dick’s, and Jason’s ass (again) at the game before Alfred came in and announced that dinner was ready. Your stomach did like a backflip from the excitement of Alfred’s cooking. It had been a long time since you had a home-cooked meal; you kind of lived off ramen, cereal, and coffee for the past 9 months. You jumped with joy when you saw that he made (favorite meal).

“Aw Alfred I love you,” you said taking a seat at the dinner table.

The meal was delicious, no surprise there. After dinner, you caught them up on everything, even though you basically call home every day. Damian made a comment about how he missed having you around and Jason teased him about it which caused the two of them to fight. Tim got excited about the 24/7 library and coffee shop. That boy worries you sometimes. Dick kept asking about the security and how safe you are even though he basically interviewed every campus officer when you first moved in.

“This is nice and all but don’t you boys have a night job to do,” you asked getting up from the table.

“My daughter is home from college after 9 months. I don’t have to go out the boys have it,” your father replied.

“Daddy, i will be home for 9 long days. Go plus I was hoping you would so I could catch up on sleep. LIKE NORMAL PEOPLE DO,” you yelled the last part so Tim could hear. “Just wake me up when you get back so I know you're safe.

“Alright,” he agreed to get up and heading down to the cave.

“Be safe guys,” you warned them before they went down.

“Always am,” Jason replied which really didn’t sit well with you.

You asked Alfred if he wanted help cleaning but he declined the offer and told you to go to bed. Not needed to be told twice, you went up to your room and just plopped on the bed.

“I forgot how comfortable this bed was,” you said to yourself.

You decided that you needed to change into pj's, so you climbed out of bed and changed only to lay back on the cloud. Sleep took over about five minutes after your head hit the pillow and it was wonderful. But it didn’t last. You woke up and check to see what time it was. 2:19. Going back to sleep wasn’t going to work, so you decided to sneak downstairs for some late-night ramen. You grabbed the (favorite flavor) ramen from your backpack and then headed downstairs. It took a while to find the kettle cause Alfred is very particular about where things go but after you found it, you boiled some water and make the ramen. You were sitting at the table enjoying your snack when the lights came. You froze with noodles hanging out of your mouth when you saw that it was Alfred.

“What are you eating,” he asked disgustingly.

“Ramen,” you replied with a mouth full of noodles. He shook his head and grabbed the bowl.

“Hey give it back.”

“This isn’t food y/n. Do you eat this often while away at school,” he asked kind of scared of your answer?

“Only when I'm hungry,” you replied with a sweet smile.

“unacceptable. You will never eat this filth again,” he promised as he tossed the food in the trashcan.

“Hey, that was my last bag. And that filth is delicious.”

“No Wayne child will eat this especially under my roof,” he warned grabbing a pan and placing it on the stove.

“What are you doing,” you inquired.

“Making you a proper meal.”

“No the point of ramen is that it's not filling. I'm not that hungry I just couldn’t go back to sleep.”

He ignored your comment and proceeded to make your grilled cheese and tomato soup. Alfred placed the food in front of you and shook his head as he went back down to the cave. You had eaten half the ramen already and were kind of full but the grilled cheese smelled so good. So after eating basically a second dinner you went back to sleep. Being home was great.

The rest of your time home was just like you never left. You had a daddy/daughter date and helped everybody train. There was also a small family trip to the amusement park, which was amazing. Damian ate too much and threw up on dad. Best day ever. When it was time to go back to school, you hugged everyone bye and dad helped you pack your car. Before you left Alfred handed you two tote bags.

“Promise me that you will call if you need food. And never eat that filth again,” he warned you in his caring way.

You looked in the bag and saw that he and meal prepped for you. There was enough food here for the next week. Alfred always takes care of you.

“Thanks, Alfred. And I promise.”

Ever since then Alfred and made it his mission to drive up every weekend to bring you meals for the week. Sure it was kind of embarrassing, especially when he didn’t it in the quad during lunch. But you weren’t going to complain. Alfred’s cooking was amazing.

[garbagevanfleet]

Brightest Blue (series)

PART SEVEN

Pairing: Josh x reader Warnings: men being shitty and creepy!! possible trigger for sexual assult Summary:  Things are changing. New state. New school. New roommate. You just pray things are going to click into place. Notes: things are taking an odd turn, right? (sorry this is posted so late) 

taglist: @valleyd0ll​ @satingrass-maidensfair​ @guitarfingers​ @thebohemianpenguin​ @peaceisouranthem​ @oblvions​ @hansonobsessed​ @myownparadise96​ @lara-gvf​ @anditsmywholeheart​ @kill-fear-the-power-of-lies​ @bigblack-catattack​

MASTERPOST 

You woke up to the shrill chiming of an alarm cutting through your head like a circle saw. The unexpected noise made you sit up instantly, putting your gaze directly on a desk, the top of it overflowing with sheet music. 

Josh started to stir next to you, his hand reaching out from under the blanket to grab his phone from where it sat in between you.

The sore spot on your ribs made you wince, and your eyes drifted down to find your own phone, pressed into the mattress from you sleeping on it. 

When the screen flicked on, you let out a sharp gasp. 

“Josh, we have like fifteen minutes to leave!” you yelped, hopping instantly out of bed and finding your knees a little wobbly. 

He sat up then, rubbing across his face. 

You gazed back at him, frowning at the odd setup; he was laying on top of the comforter but under a different blanket.

“Shit, I had yesterday’s alarm still set for my late class,” he murmured, inching himself toward the end of the bed. 

“Oh my god,” you whined, racing to the bathroom. You brushed your teeth way too quickly, knowing in your heart that you did a poor job.

When you returned to Josh’s room for your phone, he was pulling a clean shirt over his head.

  “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, sounding somewhere between asleep and awake.

“It’s okay, I should have set my own alarm,” you admitted, snatching your cell from the bed and scooting past him again. “It’s really okay. Are you going to be ready to leave in like ten?”

He nodded as he ran his fingers through his curls. “Yeah, you?”

“I’m praying.” 

On the walk to school, you remembered. 

“Fuck, my presentation is today. And I got high and didn’t practice.”

He chuckled under his breath, clasping his hand around your shoulder. “You’re going to be fine- just breathe and stay calm. If you mess up, take a pause and keep going.” 

You nodded furiously. “Okay. Okay. Can you text that to me? What if I forget?”

He laughed in earnest then. “Yes, I’ll text you.” 

You exhaled a lengthy breath, nodding as you tried to calm your nerves. 

In front of the entrance to the B hall, he spun you around to face him, holding the biceps of each of your arms. He mimicked taking a deep breath, prompting you to do the same without another thought. 

“Relax,” he instructed coolly. “And I’ll see you at lunch.”

+++

You had your hands clasped tightly in your lap, nervous enough that your palms were sweating. Getting up and speaking to a room of people was high on your list of things that felt like torture, especially since you hadn’t had time to shower or do anything with your mess of hair besides pinning it up into a bun as best you could. 

You thanked a divine power that the outfit you had thrown on in a haste ended up looking surprisingly presentable. 

As it neared your turn, you got your papers in order and straightened up your posture. When your name was called, you promptly stood, descending the steps and ending up down at the podium. 

You had just opened your mouth to start when your phone chimed in your pocket. Your eyes popped open wide, hoping you’d hallucinated the sound instead of forgetting to silence your ringer. 

The professor was giving you an unamused look as you gave a weak laugh.

 “One sec, sorry,” you muttered, fishing out your phone. You flicked the little button down on the side, but as the screen lit up, you got to read what the message said. 

Josh      just now Just pretend everyone’s me or pretend they’re naked. Probably not both though.

You couldn’t help but huff a laugh as you tucked it back away. The nerves that had you so on edge started to dampen, just a bit. 

+++

That afternoon, you walked home alone. Josh had texted you that he’d be staying until 5 or 6 to make sure the production was going along smoothly, but when he returned to the apartment, it was with a bottle of wine. 

You were doing some of the dishes from the previous day and had to wipe your soapy hands on a dishtowel before he crossed the room and pulled you into a side hug. 

The two of you had talked about how well the presentation went when you met at lunch, but you hadn’t imagined he’d make such a big deal about it. 

“I had Jake pick me up and take me to the liquor store, and I got this so we could celebrate,” he informed, his voice kind of soft - either sheepish or tired, you couldn’t quite tell. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” you replied, but couldn’t suppress the huge grin splitting your lips. 

He nodded, offering a soft smile. “I know.” He set the bottle down on the table pointedly. “I wanted to.”

You fished the make-shift corkscrew from the utensil drawer, brandishing it like a knife to earn a melodic laugh from Josh. 

He popped the door of the fridge open to peer inside. “We might be able to make something special for dinner. Or, at least more special than mac and cheese or sandwiches.”

When the idea popped into your head, you crossed the room and grabbed your purse. 

“I still have about,” you paused to count the bills in your wallet. “$34 from shopping. I was saving it for something nice, so why don’t we order something in?”

He grinned at you, leaning back against the wall next to the fridge and letting his head rest against it. “What kind of take-out are you thinking? You should get to pick.”

“Oh, please,” you huffed, playfully rolling your eyes as you started unwrapping the foil around the rim of the wine bottle. “One, I could have never done so well if it weren’t for you. And two, you’re from here, so you’d know what’s worth ordering.”

His pink lips tilted up into a smirk. “I’m not from here though.”

“Close enough.” You took a moment to think before continuing on. The tip of the corkscrew was broken, leaving a blunt edge and he watched you struggle to pierce the cork with it. “Is there any kind of Indian? Or Thai maybe?” 

He nodded. “There’s an Indian restaurant downtown. It’s pretty yummy if I remember right.”

“That kinda sounds perfect, right?” 

He held his hand out, flicking his eyes down at the corkscrew and then back up at you until you reluctantly handed it over. He picked up the bottle and popped it open with ease, his smirk only growing. 

“Yeah, perfect.”

+++

Thursday evening, Trevor showed up around five, just as you were finished making your bedroom look like a cute study nook. You weren’t entirely sure how much studying either of you planned on doing, but since he only brought one notebook and nothing else, you weren’t very hopeful about getting any work done. 

“I wasn’t expecting you to have a roommate,” he said in a playful tone.

“I do. When I moved here, I knew I couldn’t afford to live alone, so I rolled the dice. He’s a great friend, as it turns out. Do you want something to drink?” you asked as he stepped through your doorway and set his stuff down on your bed. 

“That’d be cool.”

“We have juice and milk and water and iced tea.”

He shrugged with a smile. “Anything but milk, please.”

You nodded. “I’ll bring you some juice.” 

Josh, who was seated in the sitting chair in the living room, working on his own homework, looked up at you through his eyelashes with a mischievous-looking smile.

You shot him a scowl. “Don’t be weird,” you whispered, and then in a normal tone, finished with, “Would you like some juice too?”

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head at you. “That’s okay, I can get my own. You just worry about him.”

Trevor happily took his glass as you handed it to him, giving you a “thank you”. 

“Of course,” you replied as you sat next to him on the bed and pulled your stack of textbooks onto your lap. “Where should we start?”

“You actually want to study?” he mused, sounding disbelieving.

You bit your lip. “Probably for a little while at least, right?” 

He shrugged back at you, but you tried to brush off the odd attitude. Maybe you’d given him the wrong impression as to exactly what this would be, but you could fix it. 

“So, we’re supposed to read chapters ten through sixteen and then do all the questions,” you informed, flipping the book open. “You want me to read it out loud?” 

You thought maybe offering to do most of the work would brighten his mood, but every time you looked over at him while you were reading, he was scrolling through his phone. He had a bored expression painted across his features, and it took him nearly a full minute to realize you’d stopped reading. 

When he finally looked up at you, he gave a smile that you knew he thought was the most charming thing you’d ever seen.

You could hear a knock on the front door and Josh shuffling around in the living room. 

“Have you been listening to any of this? You look like you’d rather be anywhere else.” You tried to keep your tone from sounding annoyed, but you knew you couldn’t hide it as well as you wished. 

“I’d rather be doing anything else if I’m being honest.” There was not a single shred of an apology in his voice, and when you spoke again, you knew it would be even less put together.

“Why did you want to come over for a study session if you didn’t want to study?” It was less of a question and more of a scathing review of his character, or at least what you’d seen of it so far.

He frowned at you, looking a shade on the accusatory side for your liking. “I feel like you should have known what that actually meant.” 

You could hear a conversation going on in the kitchen, and you silently wished you were out there instead. The longer you heard them talk, the more convinced you became that it was Jake, and you wondered if Josh invited him over on purpose, or if he just showed up.

“You said you thought I was good in class and that part of why you asked me out was so I could help you with classwork.”

He rolled his blue eyes. “Yeah, if I hadn’t, I can’t imagine you would have invited me over.”

You had your mouth open to snap a response, but somehow, his words hurt you. Not much, but just enough for your chest to feel tight, and not just from anger.

 “Did you think you could manipulate me into having sex with you?” you asked quietly, your brows threaded close together in a frown. 

He gave a long, bored-sounding sigh. “Don’t act like I’m a bad guy, here. Everyone does it. Give some fake compliments and then make your move, you know?”

For emphasis, he placed his hand on your thigh, a little too high up. It made your teeth clench, jaw tightened by rage.

“Don’t touch me. You should go,” you stated. 

He huffed a sarcastic laugh as he inched his hand a bit further up your leg. He moved toward you until his face was nearing your neck. “Come on, what’s the big deal?” 

Before you could stop yourself, you reached a hand out and slapped him across his face, your palm making contact with the hollow of his cheek. You hadn’t been expecting the crack of noise when you made contact; it ripped through the room, and out into the living area if you had to guess. 

It took him a beat to realize what happened, but as soon as he did, he stood from your bed. You picked up his notebook and handed it to him, and he ripped it from your grasp, a dirty look on his features. 

“You’re a cockteasing bitch,” he snapped, nursing the red spot on his cheek. 

He was already halfway through the living room when you moved to stand in the doorway of your room. 

“Fuck off,” you called through clenched teeth as he opened the front door and let himself out. When he was gone you realized that Josh and Jake were both looking at you with similar degrees of concern from where they were sat on the couch. 

“What happened?” Josh asked, frowning up at you. 

Embarrassed, you flicked your eyes over to Jake who had one eyebrow quirked up at you. 

“Oh, you know. Just boys lying to me so they can fuck,” you snapped as you retreated to your room and closed the door. You instantly felt bad for being short with them, especially since Josh is just about the last person you could ever imagine being mean to, but you’d apologize later. 

Right then, you were going to curl up in bed.

After a couple of hours, Jake left and you wondered how long it would take before Josh came in to bug you, but he didn’t. You listened for his footsteps coming toward your door, but you could hear him in the living room, turning the page of a book every now and again. 

Eventually, you couldn’t help yourself - you threw the blankets off and stood. The stiffness in your muscles was a poor consolation prize for the day. 

He looked up at you, shutting his book instantly, his homework caught between the pages. 

“Hey,” he greeted quietly. He patted the spot next to him on the couch. “I’m sorry your...thing went so poorly.”

You were too annoyed to care anymore, so you laid your head on his shoulder, letting out a long sigh. It surprised you when you felt a tear drip down your cheek and you could feel your face start to warm in response. 

He heard you sniffle and his form stiffened immediately. His arm wrapped around your shoulder, pulling you tight to him. 

“Did he hurt you?” It sounded like Josh’s throat was tight, making his words hoarse.

“No, he just,” You weren’t sure how to finish that. He hadn’t really hurt you, per se. “He just tried to touch me. And then he didn’t stop when I told him to.”

“What?” His tone was charmingly offended on your behalf. 

“It’s okay,” you assured, wiping your face with the sleeve of your sweater. “I’m more angry than anything. I just kind of can’t believe I fell for that, you know? The whole ‘let’s study’ thing.”

“Stop that - it’s not your fault.” You could feel the hesitation as he laid his hand against your ear, but you leaned into it, grateful for the comfort.

It was quiet for a long moment while you calmed yourself down. His presence was more of a reassurance than anything else you could have imagined at the moment.

“You’re my best friend,” you breathed, turning to nuzzle your nose against the fabric of his sleeve. “And I’m lucky to have you.”

Through a smile, you heard him say, “Me too.”

[moonbeamwritings]

Imagine a scenario based off a dream I had, modern AU where DIO is like 28 a single father, Lawyer to the Stars on the Coast of California with little 7 year old Giorno.

The Reader, Tired- maybe coming off an over night shift, half asleep is casually walking down the busy sidewalk, catches sight of a distracted Giorno not waiting at the cross walk (on his Gameboy or something) and in an instantly the reader pulls Giogio out of the way of an on passing car.

Boom. Dio saw it all and starts scolding Gio. I woke up after that bit.

Point is... I wonder what would have happened next 🤔😕😳

this is cool as hell, anon. cool. as. hell. i’m here for it and i will definitely try to deliver !! it got very out of hand, but i hope you enjoy!! 

part 2

Your day had been long, having worked open to close at the coffee shop down the street from your apartment. As your shift came to an end, you blearily worked through the closer checklist, puttering around the store as you cleaned and closed everything down. With one last turn of a key, you finally, finally, began your trek home.

As you came up to the crosswalk, you noticed a little boy toddling along, gaming system in hand as he went. He was so wrapped up in his game that he barely gave the busy street a second thought as he stepped a foot off the curb.

It was like you were watching the situation in slow motion, his foot moving at a snail’s pace right in front of a moving car. Acting on adrenaline alone, suddenly far more awake than you’d ever felt in your life, you gripped the handle of his backpack to yank him up and into your arms.

With him back on the sidewalk, you placed him back on his feet as you knelt in front of him. “Jeez kiddo, you alright? You have to pay better attention around here.”

As the small boy opened his mouth to say something, a man with a thick british accent came hustling over. “Giorno! How many times do I have to tell you to put that thing away when you’re walking?”

The man, who you could only assume was his father, pulled the device from the boy’s hand before lifting him up into his arms. “Don’t do that again.”

His son nodded meekly, eyes shifting down to his father’s shoes.

“I’m sorry about him. I thought he was right next to me.”

You waved the man off as your gaze finally moved to meet his. He was handsome, like something out of a fairytale, all muscle with perfectly styled blond hair and an impeccable, no doubt expensive, suit. In the back of your mind, you felt as if you’d seen him before, but, being unable to place it, you brushed the thought away.

Saving yourself the embarrassment of ogling at the man for too much longer, you excused yourself. “It’s no problem. Have a nice night you two.”

With the situation over with, you continued your walk home.

Upon your arrival, you did everything you could to decompress: showering, changing, and situating yourself on your couch to watch mindless television. As you flicked through channel after channel, you finally landed on a celebrity gossip station, half listening as the host worked through this week’s hot topics.

You rolled your eyes.

She went on to describe yet another celebrity’s messy divorce, among other criminal charges apparently. Your attention was quickly piqued, though, when a familiar face flashed onto your screen. There he was a perfect combination of muscle, confidence, and style.

Dio Brando.

The man whose child you’d saved, who you’d embarrassingly checked out in a tired stupor, was Dio Brando. It took everything in you not to bring a hand up to smack at your own forehead. No wonder you’d recognized him, he was any celebrity’s dream lawyer and had his own fair share of scandals and nonsense. 

Yikes.

With one final look at the man in question, you changed the channel, hardly able to bear the gritty details of a court case you didn’t care about.

The whole incident with him and his son became nothing more than a blip in your day-to-day life, telling a few work friends and leaving it at that. Did you sometimes check Dio’s Instagram out of what you explained away as genuine curiosity? Well, yeah, but you were only human after all.

The weekend after your run-in with the famous lawyer, you were tasked with another long shift slaving over coffee orders and dealing with rude customers. The moment the morning rush ended, you jumped at the chance to take your lunch break, situating yourself in a corner of the café. You watched as only a few customers filtered in and out, thankful that the worst of the day was now over.

Losing yourself in your Twitter feed, you mindlessly sipped at a cup of tea as the remaining time of your break ticked away, only snapping back to reality at the sound of a familiar voice.

“Mind if I join you?” Looking up from your phone, you locked eyes with Dio. 

“Oh! Uh, sure!”

You watched as he delicately sat himself in the chair across from you, ankle perched on his knee as he shot you an unwavering smirk. As he got situated, he stuck a hand in your direction.

“Dio Brando.”

Biting back a snarky quip about how narcissistic his introduction alone made him seem, you gently placed your hand in his as you gave him your name.

“I wanted to thank you again for what you did for my son.”

“It’s really no problem. I think anyone would have done the same.”

He eyed you carefully, fingers dancing against the mug in front of him. “So, what do you want?”

“Excuse me?”

“As repayment.” He explained like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Do you want money?” Dio leaned across the table to mumble, “Sex, maybe? I don’t like leaving debts unpaid.”

A look of disgust crossed your face as you put both your phone and drink down on the table, moving to sit on your hands to resist the urge to smack him upside the head. “What are you talking about? I don’t want anything. I was being nice. You don’t need to pay anyone off for being nice.”

“Hmm,” He seemed deep in thought, eyes drifting up and down your face, lingering on your lips for only a split second, “nothing at all? You do know who I am, don’t you?”

With your break coming to an end and your patience wearing thin, you started to collect your things. “Look, pretty boy, I don’t really care who you are. You’re honestly kind of insufferable. I helped your son because he was in trouble. I don’t want your money and I don’t want to have sex with you.”

You hadn’t meant to be quite that biting, but you couldn’t help yourself. How dare he come into your work, assume that he owed you something, and then have the audacity to tease you about it? What the fuck?

“Pretty boy?”

“I need to get back to work. I’d really appreciate it if you didn't come back in here if you’re just going to pull more of this shit.”

Without sparing him a second glance, you made your way back behind the counter, placing your stuff in the back before returning to your place at the register. By the time you returned, he was gone. Good riddance.

You could only assume how warped his worldview was if he genuinely thought he needed to pay you off for helping his son. A creeping feeling of sympathy worked its way into your brain, but was quickly swatted away by the image of his smug smile.

You didn’t see him again for another week, this time armed with a grin that was a little less playful and a little more genuine, almost sheepish.

Taking his order with little fuss, you got to work pouring his coffee and adding specific ingredients. He attempted to make idle conversation with you, asking about your day and how you’d been doing with work. You humored him, if only to be polite, answering his questions with little enthusiasm.

Days passed much the same way. Dio would come in, make small talk, and then leave. No further incidents like that first meeting, no more overt attempts at getting in your pants. Nothing.

It was all… strange, to put it simply. It was like dealing with two different people: the overconfident, well-dressed Dio Brando versus the charming single dad Dio. You were left conflicted, wrestling the two images in your mind to decide how you truly saw Dio.

One night, he’d offered to walk you home after another of your late shifts with the promise that he’d get up to no funny business, as you’d put it. The conversation had lulled as you both became enraptured with the noises of the city, your faces bathed in warm neon lights. The silence was nice, welcomed even, as you thought about how to phrase your feelings.

You’d come to like Dio, in your own silly little way. You had memorized his order, knew more about his job and his son, knew him more intimately than you had ever expected to, but one question remained. One question loomed in your brain, clouding any positive thoughts you may otherwise have: Why? Why did he suddenly come into your work? Why did he take such a liking to you? Was it all a ruse, a sick way of finally repaying you?

“You look like you’re about to throw up.” He commented lightly, watching as a crease formed between your eyebrows, as your face twisted in discomfort.

“I-” You took a deep breath, looking anywhere but at him in order to actually get the question out. “Dio, can I ask you something?”

“Of course.” He spoke earnestly, eyes still tracing over your side profile.

“Why?”

“Why what? You’re going to need to be more specific.”

“Why would you keep coming into the store after I told you off? I just can’t shake this feeling that you’re still… ugh,” you groaned as the words left your mouth, deciding that this was actually a very bad idea, “I don’t know, buttering me up. Like this is all some dream where I’ll wake up to you laughing in my face, telling me that you were only being nice to me to repay me or sleep with me or something.”

Wordlessly, Dio grasped your arm and led you under the awning of a nearby business, not really wanting to stop sidewalk traffic with whatever confession he may find himself making. He looked deathly serious, like you’d just promised to ruin his entire life. Maybe, with all of your questioning, you had.

“Look,” he sighed, “Did I initially come in with the intention of repaying you by whatever means necessary? Yes and I think we both know that, but it’s different now.”

He paused, clearly choosing his next words very carefully. “You’re one of the only people to actually try to put me in my place, to show me that I was being an asshole. It’s different with you. Hell, you kept me up that night. I couldn’t get you out of my head. It was like you were haunting me, driving me crazy. I had to get to the bottom of why I was so taken with you.”

You felt your mouth drop open at his admission, feeling as though your feet were swept right out from under you, sending you tumbling, “Oh.”

“Oh.” Dio mimicked, his voice lilting up to tease you. “Does that answer your question?”

“Uh, I-... Yeah, I guess it does.”

“Good then let’s go.” He tugged you along, guiding you back out onto the sidewalk and towards your apartment. Dio’s hand didn’t leave yours until you arrived at your doorstep.

“Goodnight.” It was quick, uttered as soon as his hand left yours as he moved to turn around and make his own way home.

“Wait, where are you going?”

“Home. I have a kid, remember?”

“Well, of course I remember, but don’t you want to hear what I have to say?”

The smile that graced his face was nothing short of teasing, a small quirk of his lips as he looked you up and down. “Only if it’s interesting.”

“Ugh,” you grumbled, stomping down the stairs of your apartment complex to come face-to-face with Dio, “you’re relentless.”

“So I’ve been told.” He watches as your lip twitches in annoyance. God, did he love to push your buttons. “Spit it out, then. What’s still on your mind? Eager to ask me more questions?”

In lieu of a verbal retort, you took his face in your hands and all but yanked him down to connect your lips with his, eager to finally shut him up. His response was immediate, moving his lips against yours as a hand weaved around your waist, another resting just above your ass.

As you moved to break away, his lips followed yours, pressing another needy kiss to your mouth. Finally satiated, he pulled back to take in the dazed expression on your face.

“I do have one question.”

Dio let out a barking laugh that had him pulling you closer, gripping at your waist, “What is it?”

“Is sex off the table now that you’re not trying to repay me or-?”

He rolled his eyes, leaning in so his lips barely touched yours as he spoke. “I’m sure we can figure something out.”

[everlastingbutterfly]

Doubt Season 4 (Liar! Dark lies) 1st Liar translation - The share house is a trash house

Words: 1674

Reading time: 7 minutes

❌ do not take translations without credit

★ reblogging okay

If you enjoyed reading, please consider liking and/or reblogging to spread to other fans.

MC wakes up to a lot of noise and goes down to the dining room to find Kazemiya-kun and Yuu-kun who are cleaning the kitchen after they found it super messy. In the sink they find a cup that contained beer, and a soup bowl. In the bin they find some snack wrapper with the half eaten snack still in it. Kazemiya-kun points out that the microwave has soup splashes in it. MC helps the boys clean up. Yuu-kun says that he found cut hair in the bathroom sink the other day which clogged up the sink hole. The rules are that everyone should at least clean up after themselves in the share house and Kazemiya-kun posts a (gentle) reminder on the share house’s FindFriend account.

Evidence gathered

Photo of dirty sink

DOUBT 1 suspects

Hime-chan

Emi

Karen

The three girls enter the kitchen and decide to make sandwiches though Karen decides to pass. She works late and comes home almost around dawn. Ami notices there are no more drinks left and MC recalls that last week there were often times there were no drinks (tea, coffee, etc). Karen brings coffee and drinks from her room which she received from customers.

The girls eat lunch. Ami works at the IT company GOOLGLE (Google..) in Roppongi. She talks about how she’s been too busy lately to eat at the company’s food court and takes the last train home every day. Karen also works a lot every night and Karen offers MC a job there (joke) and she decline as she’s happy being a nurse. Hime-chan jokes that she will work for Karen. Hime-chan is an office lady in Marunouchi.

After lunch Ami is going shopping, Karen goes back to bed and MC wants to go sleep too but Hime-chan wants to drag MC off to see a fortune teller. They go off to see Cassie (“Johnny” in the English version). Of course MC thinks of some rude things (like his butt chin etc. LOL) and he’s like that’s rude!

Cassie starts the fortune telling session (Hime-chan goes shopping outside while she waits) and Cassie says that MC’s life has been hard so far and things are about to get worse as there are 9 liars incoming. Cassie notes that there is someone particularly dangerous within the 9. Cassie does note though that if she can get past the 9 liars MC will gain the happiness that she desires and find her fated partner too.

They travel back home by train and MC notes that Hime-chan is sitting on the priority seat (normally reserved for disabled people, those who are pregnant etc.) though the carriage is empty. MC decides to just stand. Hime-chan shows MC the new pink hat she bought from the Joe Yazawa collection.

MC receives a text from Ami, who is at the supermarket and asks if MC or Hime-chan want anything. As MC is already near the supermarket the three of them decide to meet there and shop together.  Hime-chan places a lot of snacks (that she likes) into the cart. They also buy coffee and tea. Ami places a milk tea (that costs 500 yen) into the cart. She says it’s the brand that her mum often bought for her while she was living in America. After paying, Hime-chan says she’s going shopping for a bit before going home and Ami is stopping by at a café. MC offers to take the shopping home.

Evidence gathered

Shopping receipt

MC wonders why both of them need to live in a share house when they seem like they are quite successful (and would have money) but concludes that everyone has their reasons. MC goes home and surfs FindFriend before bed.

Evidence gathered

Share house FindFriend screenshot 1

Ami’s FindFriend screenshot 1

Photo of Ami with her friend, smoking

In the share house screenshot it lists the member who is “in charge” every month ie. is generally in charge of things like making sure drinks are stocked, some general tidying etc. It’s November and MC notes it is Karen’s month (suggesting she hasn’t been on top of things since the place has been messy?).

MC wakes up at 3am and goes to kitchen, where she finds Karen who just came back from work. Karen has a bottle of wine from one of her customers and asks if MC would like to drink with her and she agrees to have a bit. They end up finishing the bottle and Karen falls asleep at the dining table.

MC goes to carry Karen back to her room but her bag tips, dropping out a wallet, notebook, make up and a lot of business cards. Lastly, a lighter drops out.

Evidence gathered

Karen’s lighter

MC returns to the dining room after taking Karen back to her room so she can clean up. Ami comes back (it’s almost 5am!!) and turns out she had gone back to work to finish up some things. MC notes to herself that Ami works super hard and then goes off to bed.

Next morning, MC is getting ready for work after only 2.5 hours of sleep. There’s puddles of water in front of the bathroom sink and she hears a scream from the toilet. She rushes there to find Hime-chan who is pointing at the toilet. MC looks into to find it jammed with a tonne of toilet paper and POO!! (lol “poo” was semi-censored in the JP version haha)

Hime-chan says that it looks like someone clogged the toilet then left it and asks MC if she knows who did it. MC feels that Hime-chan thinks MC did it and adamantly denies it, to which Hime-chan says you wouldn’t seem the type. Hime-chan then sighs and gets to cleaning it up (MC apologies and thanks her, inwardly apologising for not helping out herself)

MC returns to the dining room which should be clean since she cleaned it last night but there are snack wrappers all over the table. The wrappers are from the snacks that Hime-chan likes. The TV in the living room is on too. Karen comes in and comments on how dirty it is. MC notices Karen’s hair is wet and wonders if she washed it (was she the one in the bathroom earlier?). Karen offers to clean it up since MC has to go to work and MC remembers that Karen can wake up early even after drinking heavily the night before (MC is wondering if Karen is the one who made the mess in the kitchen early in the morning).

MC goes to work and her friend Sumika shows her a magazine page. MC says she’ll read it later

Evidence gathered

Magazine page on marriage

MC goes to see a patient to check if she has eaten her meds. She is a bit mischievous as she hides bread in her room. MC finds the meds and bread hidden under her covers but not just that… she finds a water bottle filled with yellow liquid!! The patient has a habit of finding it “too troublesome” to go to the bathroom and… you get the rest (and this isn’t the first time this patient has done this..)

MC runs into Takeshi in the hallway and he wants to apologise to her but she leaves.

After work MC is in her room reading the magazine page that Sumika gave her. She can hear Ami’s voice from next door and it sounds like she’s talking to someone on the phone. “Maybe for work?”, MC thinks. Then MC hears a thump coming from Karen’s room next door. MC then starts smelling smoke and wonders who’s smoking, especially as the smoking space is on the first floor which is quite away from her own room. She thinks she’s just imagining it and makes to go to sleep but then a voice yells

FIRE!!!

EVERYONE RUN!!!

MC flies out of her room.

The next scene everyone is in the living room, after Yuu-kun had put out the fire. Hime-chan and Karen are grateful to Kazemiya-ku  for alerting everyone to evacuate from the fire. Yuu-kun comments that it was good the extinguisher was close by but some plants on the balcony got singed. They have to alert the owner about the incident and Kazemiya-kun calls him. Hime-chan says “Mamirin must be busy but he’s coming, huh?”

MC wonders who that is (but we know right?!). After about 30 mins ta-da!:

MC is shocked (because she knows him). He introduces himself to her and MC is thinking inwardly that it’s not a “first meeting” (since they are both yakuza). Haruichi asks the housemates to go over what happened. Kazemiya-kun was the first to notice the smell coming through his open window, and saw the balcony plants on fire. The plants are right outside MC’s room. Haruichi has also heard lately that the house rules haven’t been followed.

MC is aware it looks bad on her as these things started happening shortly after she moved in, as well as the fire happening outside her room. She asks for one hour to figure out the real culprit. MC doesn’t think it is Kazemiya-kun since he wouldn’t have alerted everyone to the fire, nor does she think it is Yuu-kun since he is the one who decided to call Haruichi. Tokiwa-kun wasn’t at home so couldn’t be him. This leaves only Hime-chan, Ami and Karen.

MC arrives at the balcony to look for evidence.

Evidence gathered

Burnt flyer (for Karen’s shop)

Hat (Hime-chan’s)

Milk tea bottle (filled with yellow liquid…)

Cigarettes

Haruichi teases MC by saying that if she correctly finds the culprit he won’t tell the housemates MC’s real identity. MC thinks back on the three girls’ actions and notices something. Such a strange and troublesome action could have only been that one person. Which means all the other happenings were caused by them too?! MC goes to confront the rulebreaker with “no morals.”

So who do you think the liar is? 

Review the evidence here:

[saeyoungchoismaid]

Greasy Head

Pairing: Leviathan x gn!reader Genre: fluff Warnings: none Word Count: 1.6k Summary: Levi goes a week without showering and is finally forced to when you return home ObeyMAX day: Wed. July 8, 2020 - Levi 

You should’ve known this would happen. You leave on a trip to go visit your family and friends in the human world, and this is what you come back to.

Levi really let himself go.

You walk into his room to find him exactly where you left him. Sitting at his desk playing the new game you got him last week before you left. You look around the room to see that there’s wrappers, cans, and bottles everywhere. One even has a yellow liquid that you’d rather not know if you’re right about what it is.

“Levi?” you call, slowly walking through the room and around all the trash littering it. “Baby?” you try again. This grabs his attention. He swivels around in his chair and smiles at you, bags clearly hanging under his eyes.

“You’re back! What are you doing back so early?” he greets, turning back to his computer to pause the game. He then gets up and meets you halfway, wrapping his arms around you. You smile at him until you realize what he was hiding under his arms, making your nose shrivel up as you lightly push him away.

“Oh my—Levi! I’m not back early. I’ve been gone for a week, just as planned. When was the last time you showered? Or even left your room?” you ask as you take a couple of steps back while fanning your face, almost tripping over cans. You quickly catch yourself and then grunt, shaking your head. “No, no. Clean your room. Right now,” you demand, walking towards the door.

“But, (Y/n)!” he starts to protest. You turn around when you reach his door and squint your eyes at him.

“Don’t ‘but’ me! Your room is disgusting. Clean it up,” you command as you open the door. He sighs and sends a pout your way.

“Where are you going? At least sit in the tub and tell me about your trip.” You shake your head as you leave your things by his door.

“No can do. You obviously haven’t had a proper meal since I left. I’m going to go make you something while you clean. Don’t leave this room or do anything else besides clean? Got it?” He lets out a groan but nods his head nonetheless. You hum and send a smile his way before leaving the room to go do just as you said.

You go to the kitchen and look through the cupboards, fridge, and freezer. You debate on what to make him as you do so, knowing it needs to be healthy so he can regain all the nutrients he lost. You gather some vegetables and decide to just make him a stew. You go through the process of cutting up the vegetables and adding them to the pot on the stove, adding potatoes since he really likes those. You then add meat, going with bat meat since all the brothers seem fond of it.

After about two hours of cooking, your healthy stew is ready to be served. You make two bowls and start to head back to Levi’s room, letting the other boys know that you made a late lunch/early dinner if any of them are interested. Beel, of course, was up in a flash and heading towards the kitchen.

You hum as you head upstairs, walking in through the open door to find the room mostly clean. You smile at this and set the bowls down, placing your hands onto your hips. “I gotta say, I’m impressed. Good job, baby,” you compliment with a smile. He beams brighter than the sun at your compliment, making your heart skip a beat at how cute he is.

He raises his arms to come hug you until you put your hands up to stop him. “Nope, no hugging until after you’ve bathed. Eat this first though,” you say as you hand him his bowl. He pouts at this but does as he’s told like a good boy. You both sit down as you eat, using this time to tell him about your trip. He smiles and laughs at your stories, happy to hear that you enjoyed yourself in the human world.

“I’m glad you’re back,” he admits, reaching over to grab your hand. You smile warmly at him as you take a hold of his hand, giving it a squeeze.

“So am I,” you agree, bringing his hand up to kiss the back of it. You two finish eating within no time, a happy hum leaving Levi as he finishes his bowl.

“This is the best thing I’ve ever eaten,” he informs, making you roll your eyes at how dramatic he is. You can’t help the blush and smile that comes to your face though.

“I’m glad you liked it. Now, let’s finish up with your room before hopping into the shower, yeah?” he nods his head excitedly at this, instantly hopping up to finish up with his room. You chuckle as you stand, grabbing your empty bowls to take them back to the kitchen. You clean them before going back to his room to find a spotless room.

“Good job. I have a surprise for you,” you say as you walk over to your bag. He goes on attention at this, looking like a puppy ready to receive a treat. You chuckle and pull out two bottles from your bag. “I was out shopping in the human world and came across these. The smells reminded me of you,” you say softly, walking over to him to show him the bottles.

In your hands, you hold shampoo and conditioner. Kind of ironic that you got him these when he really needs to wash his hair. “C’mon. I’ll wash your hair for you.” He perks up at this before quickly grabbing your hand after handing the bottles back to you to drag you to the bathroom. You laugh at his excitement, letting him lead the way.

As soon as you two reach the bathroom, he turns the water on and instantly starts stripping. You giggle as you watch him, taking your time removing your clothes. As soon as you’re naked, he steps into the shower before offering you his hand to help you in. Once you’re in, he backs you both up to stand under the running water.

“I really missed you,” he says softly, watching you set the shampoo and conditioner down on the shower’s shelf. You smile at this, running your hands up his chest to his hair, gently tipping his head back to get his hair wet.

“I missed you more,” you argue, running your hands through his wet hair before bringing his head back up. He grunts and shakes his head, watching you grab the shampoo.

“That’s not true,” he whines, watching you pour shampoo into your palm. You set the shampoo bottle down before bringing your hand up to his hair, starting to scrub the soap in.

“Yes, it is,” you declare with a grin. He simply pouts back at you, his eyes fluttering when you use both hands to rub the shampoo into his scalp.

“I missed your touch,” he continues, letting his eyes close. You hum at his words, running your hands through his hair a little longer than necessary before tipping his head back to rinse the shampoo out.

“What else have you missed?” you ask softly when you bring his head back up, grabbing the bar of soap and handing it to him. You switch positions with him to completely drench your hair. “You can shampoo my hair once you clean those armpits. Full offense, you stink.” He huffs at this but knows you’re right. He wets his hands with the soap and rubs his hands together before setting the soap down to clean those rank pits of his.

You hum a song as you wet your hair, letting your eyes slip closed as you relax into the water. Devildom water is always warm compared to human world water that eventually turns cold. “All done,” he states, making you bring your head up to look at him. You move out of the way so he can rinse himself, chuckling when he does so quickly. He then spins around to face you, snatching the shampoo up to return the favor.

You both continue to chat as you clean each other of the day, or for Levi’s case, week. The whole experience is incredibly relaxing and you both find yourselves barely not touching the other throughout the entire shower. Once you’re both done, Levi helps you out before grabbing a towel to dry you off for you. After each part of you he dries, he kisses that spot. You giggle with each kiss, your heart fluttering inside of your chest.

When you two are dry and in fresh clothes, you two get into his bath bed to watch a movie on his big tv. You’re, of course, wearing his clothes because what kind of significant other would you be if you didn’t? He fanboys every time you wear his clothes and this time is no exception.

You eventually find your hands in his hair, your mind not registering at first just how soft it is.

"Your hair is really soft after washing it with that new shampoo and conditioner. You should use it often, baby,” you say softly to him, brushing his hair off his forehead to lay a kiss there. His face goes pink at your affection, a small chuckle leaving him.

“Anything for you, my honey bunches of oats,” he coos. You grunt and roll your eyes, ruffling his hair in response. He doesn’t even know what that is besides it being a human world cereal. You called him that once as a joke and now he won’t stop calling you that.

“I love you,” you whisper, starting to lean forward for a kiss.

“I love you more,” he replies, not giving you time to argue before connecting your lips for a sweet kiss.

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MASTERLISTS

More with Levi

Tag List: @mexicanmagick, @animefreak-247, @jungialo, @fanfictwarrior​, @niphredil-14, @gamelovers-posts, @virtualmemmecollector, @collarjessie, @officialdevorak, @katelynwithpaint ✦ if you would like to be added or removed, comment or send an ask :)

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[snelbz]

Reckoning and Retribution {1}

An A Court of Thorns and Roses, House of Earth and Blood, & Throne of Glass Crossover, Western AU fanfiction.

Based on a prompt sent in for the 4k follower contest {winner}, from Anonymous: “Ok hear me out: WILD WEST AU CROSSOVER”

@snelbz​ / @tacmc​

The sun was bearing down on the back of his neck as he rode through the vast expanse of open land around him. There was nothing around for miles, save for the little town up ahead.

Rose Creek, it was called, if he remembered correctly.

Rowan Whitethorn knew how places like this operated, it was his life to blow in and out of them, never staying for long. It was always easy to leave, when no one wanted you there. Small, tight-knit communities, where an offense to someone’s family could end in a fist fight or a spray of bullets.

As always, he had a goal in mind as he rode into town, his pale grey horse throwing her head slightly. He’d visit the sheriff, see what he knew about the warrant in his coat pocket, and begin his search.

As he entered the little town, he was instantly labeled the outsider. He could tell as every set of eyes he passed watched him stroll by, suspiciously. He didn’t say a word, although he acknowledged some he passed, either meeting their hard gazes or nodding his head and tipping his hat in a respectful hello to the few women he rode by. It was early in the day yet, and he assumed most were working or tending to chores. 

Although the town was small, there was a vast array of shops and the like, lining each side of the main, dusty street. After debating on whether he wanted to search for the sheriff or stop in somewhere and ask, Rowan dismounted his horse, tied him up to a post, and walked inside of the local saloon.

It was nearly empty, given the early hour, no doubt. A bartender stood behind the long counter, wiping it down, and a young girl was sweeping the hard floor, sending dust up all around her.

Rowan’s boots thumped on the wood as he made his way to the bar and leaned against it. As a measure of good faith, he removed his hat, placing it on the bar next to him, allowing the man behind the bar to see his face. He turned,  cleaning a glass, and if Rowan was surprised to see the crude tattoo of barbed wire around his forehead, he didn’t show it. “Whiskey, please.”

He slid two silver coins across the wooden bar top and the man nodded. He placed the glass he’d been wiping down and reached beneath the bar, producing a bottle of amber liquid. He set it down, and Rowan poured some into the glass.

“Haven’t seen you around here before,” the bartender said, casually.

Tossing the drink back, Rowan blew out a harsh breath. “Name’s Whitethorn. I’m here looking to serve a warrant, was planning on going to the sheriff’s office, but could use some help being pointed in that direction.”

The man glanced over to the girl in the corner. “Evangeline, why don’t you go ask Emrys to make you those pastries you like?”

Her eyes went wide. “But it’s not even lunch time yet.”

He put a finger to his lips. “I won’t tell Lysandra if you don’t.”

The girl, Evangeline, Rowan gathered, hurried into the saloon’s kitchen where the sound of cooking could already be heard.

The man held out his hand. “Hunt Athalar. I own this bar.”

He grasped his hand, firmly. “Rowan.”

“Nice to meet you, Rowan,” Hunt said, and laid his palms flat on the bar, leaning down. “Hate to break it to you, but there is no sheriff. Haven’t had one in about six weeks.”

“What happened?” That was unlikely, dangerous even, in a town this far out.

Hunt shrugged, although a haunted look remained in his eyes. “Turned up dead, bullet in the head, on the outskirts of town. One of the ranchers found him about a day after, while they were out riding. No one knows who did it.”

“And you all have just been going on without a sheriff?” Rowan asked, trying to wrap his head around it, having never heard of such a thing before. He’d never heard of a town going without a sheriff for as long as six weeks. You’d think the position was cursed, and no one wanted to touch it.

“Deputy’s been watching over things since,” Hunt said, tossing a rag over his shoulder. “I’m afraid I don’t know much else, though. If you want any more details, you might want to go see the mayor. I bet he just got into his office, at this hour.”

Nodding, Rowan poured another shot into the glass and tossed it back. He nodded his head, gesturing to the stairs. “You have lodgings up there? I’ll be needing a place to stay while I’m in town. I can pay.” The silver pieces he’d laid down for the drink was proof of that enough.

Hunt shook his head, his eyes trailing over to the stairwell. “I’m afraid not. The, uh, girls entertain from upstairs, after dinner.”

A silver eyebrow rose. “You run a brothel?”

“Gods, no, I just...share a building with one.” He didn’t sound very enthused about that. “Talk to the mayor, let him know why you’re in town. He might have a couple suggestions for you.”

With a nod, Rowan stood, placing his hat back on his head and said, “Thank you for the information, Mr. Athalar. You’ve been very helpful.”

“It’s Hunt, please,” he replied. “I lost my right to common courtesy a long time ago.”

Rowan shook his head and said, “No one ever loses the right to human decency, as far as I’m concerned.”

Hunt nodded and Rowan tipped his hat before making his way back out into the morning sun. The city hall wasn’t far from the saloon, which sat smack dab in the middle of town. The founders of Rose Creek clearly had their priorities in place when they put this town together.

Leaving his horse tied up at the saloon with Hunt’s permission, Rowan walked down the dusty street to city hall. When he opened the door, he was met with an empty desk, a couch, and a set of stairs leading up to the second story. He didn’t want to surprise the man, didn’t feel like taking an accidental bullet to the heart, so he let his boots fall extra heavy on the creaking, wooden stairs. He could hear voices, both of them male, one of them far more frantic than the other.

“I’ll take anything more you can give me, Rhys, otherwise I’ll have to start burning them.”

“Calm down, it hasn’t come to that yet, and it won’t. I’ll see what I can work out.”

“Well, work it out fast, otherwise we’ll be out of graves. I’m not leaving a body out to rot in the sun and attract a coyote, not this close to town.”

Two sets of eyes were shooting in Rowan’s direction before he even knocked on the open door. The mayor, dressed in too fine of clothes for such a small town, sat behind a large oak desk. The other man was dressed in simple, dusty clothes, sweat glistening on his forehead.

“Pardon the interruption,” Rowan said, when it was clear they would say nothing. “I’m here looking for someone, hoping I can stay in town for a few days. I was wanting to talk to the sheriff, but I hear you don’t have one.”

The mayor blinked, then pushed himself up from his chair. “And your name?”

His voice was low, calming.

“Whitethorn,” Rowan said, simply. “Rowan Whitethorn.”

“A pleasure, Mr. Whitethorn.” The mayor smiled, and Rowan couldn’t tell if it was genuine or not. “I’m Mayor Lunasa. This is Azriel.”

Azriel tipped his hat in welcome. Rowan returned the gesture.

The mayor turned toward the other gentleman. “Az, use the land bordering the Vanserra ranch if you run out of plots in town. I’ll have a talk with Beron. But try to stay as close to the town as possible.”

He nodded and slipped out, passing Rowan and heading down the stairs.

Once the door opened and closed, the mayor walked around his desk and leaned against the front of it. “Can I offer you a drink, Mr. Whitethorn?”

“No, thank you,” Rowan replied, taking that as an invitation to enter the office. “I visited Mr. Athalar when I came into town. He was the one who suggested I come see you, Mayor Lunasa, sir.”

He gestured to a small sitting area off to the side of his office. “Please, call me Rhysand. What brings you Rose Creek, Rowan?”

Removing his hat, Rowan followed Rhysand, taking a seat on the plush, upholstered couch, and said, “I’m a duly sworn warrant officer in Prythian, Terrasen, Lunathion, Adarlan, and seven other states and Indian territories. I’ve come with a warrant for a man who was said to have been in this area last.”

“And who might that be?” Rhysand asked, crossing an ankle over a leg.

“A man named Grave,” Rowan replied, retrieving the warrant from his breast pocket, handing it to Rhysand. “Known to be a brutal man. Killed a homesteader a few months back, took advantage of his wife before he gave her the same fate.”

Rhys was looking at the charcoal drawing of the man. “Well, Mr. Whitethorn-.”

“Rowan, please,” he interrupted.

Rhys nodded. “Rowan, I’ll be honest with you. I’ve seen this man, but I’m not sure he’s in the condition you’re hoping for.”

“Why’s that, sir?”

He handed the warrant back to Rowan. “Because he’s currently in a wooden box, awaiting his final home six feet deep.”

Rowan nodded. “That’s alright with me.”

Dark eyebrows rose. “But that means no reward for you.”

Another nod. “I don’t do it for the money, Mayor. I do it for justice.”

A strange look filled Rhysand’s eyes, a shade of blue Rowan wasn’t used to, nearly purple in hue. “Is that so?” He stood and made his way over to his desk. “Mr. Whitethorn, I have a proposition for you. It seems my town is in need of a sheriff. It seems like the Cauldron brought you to Rose Creek for a reason. You seem like a just man, with a good head on your shoulders.” He turned and walked back to where Rowan sat, tossing something on the table between them. “I’m out of options, Mr. Whitethorn. It’s a salaried position, and this is a fairly quiet town, but this is the West, sir.”

Rowan slowly looked down at the table, where a six-pointed badge sat. 

“You want me to be the sheriff?” Rowan asked, carefully, lifting his chin as he did so. “And stay here?”

“For the time being, yes,” Rhysand said, cocking his head to the side.

Rowan wondered how he had become the mayor. He had to be young, around his own age, anyway. Young for a mayor. He thought to hang onto the question for now. 

“I have to get back-.”

“We’re in need of a sheriff, Mr. Whitethorn,” Rhysand said, his voice remaining low, his eyes bright. 

“Rowan,” Rowan corrected, again. “Please.”

Rhysand nodded, once. “Rowan. On top of your salary, I will give you free room and board.” 

Rowan lifted a brow. “It seems you're desperate, Mayor.” 

“Would it change anything if I were desperate?” Rhysand asked, humored. “You see, my people need protection, Mr. Whitethorn.”

“Rowan.”

“Of course,” Rhysand went on, waving a hand. “My people need protection, Rowan, and I feel like someone like you can provide that. The moment you want to move on, you may, but until then, you will be paid, and you will have a place to stay.” 

For a moment, Rowan said nothing. He thought about it in the silence, then snatched the badge off the table.

Rhysand’s grin grew. “Very well. Your office is across the street, Sheriff.”

“And where will I be staying?” He asked, running his finger across the embossed lettering on the star.

“If you’d like, the former sheriff has a home right outside of town. He had no family, so it’s sat unoccupied since his death,” Rhysand replied.

Rowan nodded. “And my deputy? I’ve heard he’s been handling things in the sheriff’s stead?”

“Ress,” Rhysand said, standing and making his way back to his desk. Rowan could tell their conversation was coming to an end. “A good young man, he was close with the former sheriff. He was a mentor of sorts to him.”

Standing himself, Rowan put on his hat and headed for the door. “I promise to do my best, Mayor, but I’m an outsider to these people. They might not respect what I have to say.”

Sitting back down, Rhys said, “Your best is all I can ask for, but seeing that on your hip,” his eyes fell on Rowan’s Deringer at his side, “makes me feel a hell of a lot better than I have in weeks.”

Rowan nodded, tipped his hat, and was walking down the stairs.

True to Rhysand’s word, the sheriff’s office was just across the street. 

He crossed the way, and ascended the creaky, wooden stairs. The door was already open, but no one was inside. At least, not where Rowan could see. 

“Anyone here?” he called, his voice low. With every step he took, the floorboards creaked, and as he peeked into the back hallway, he saw a shadow from the back just as a voice replied, “Back!” 

Rowan trekked down the hall, looking at the wanted posters as he passed.

In the back, just in front of the barred cells, was a young man, perhaps in his late teens, mopping the floor. As Rowan entered, he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “Can I help you?” he asked, his voice not unkind, but tired. 

“I’m Rowan Whitethorn,” he said, having a feeling he would have to introduce himself another hundred times before people began to get the hang of it. “The new sheriff.” 

A breath left the kid, as if the news he had just received was some of the greatest he’d heard in some time. “I’m Ress. Current deputy.”

Rowan tipped his hat. 

Ress dropped the mop in the old tin bucket with a sigh. “I wasn’t aware we we’re getting a new sheriff, but I’m pleased, it’s long overdue.” 

“I’ve heard,” Rowan said, simply. “I heard you were close to the old sheriff. I’m sorry for your loss.” 

Ress nodded in thanks. “It’s nice to meet you.” He looked down at the star on his chest, his own title emblazoned on the front. With a heavy sigh, he took it off and held it out to him. “Good luck.”

Rowan blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“Good luck,” he repeated. “I can’t stay here. I just… I've got to leave this town, sir.”

Rowan hesitantly took the badge from his outstretched hand. Without another word, Ress stepped around Rowan, walked out of the office and mounted his horse tied up around the side. By the time, he made it out onto the small front porch, Ress was halfway down the street, heading out of town.

He blinked, staring after him and then looking down at the five-pointed star in his hand. Things just got much more complicated than he was expecting.

He sighed and turned around, walking back into the office and sitting down at his new desk.

It was plain, bland. There was no indication that anyone had been there before him. At least it was clean, no webs, no nothing. He ran his fingers across the smooth top before opening the drawers, one by one. He found a few sheets of paper and a couple empty bottles before coming across a half-empty bottle of whiskey.

With a sigh, he popped off the lid and sniffed it with a grin.

The shit was strong.

He put it to his lips, downing a good bit before leaning back in his chair and looking around his new office.

His new post.

Sheriff of a little town out west.

Ress hauling ass out of town was what unsettled Rowan the most. He understood grief after losing someone, but it seemed like there was more the young deputy wanted to get away from.

With a shake of his head, Rowan was left alone wondering what the hell he had gotten himself into.

—————

Aelin followed Aedion up the stairs of the saloon, jovial music flowing out. The sun was setting below the mountains in the distance. She could hear what sounded like a fight inside, but that was to be expected. Her cousin held the swinging door open for her and they found that their little saloon was packed full, a rowdy night ahead of their little town.

She scanned the bar, finding the eyes of her closest friend. Lysandra was, of course, perched in the lap of a well-dressed man. He already seemed three sheets to the wind, and Aelin could see that regardless the fact that they were still in the company of his friends, in the eyes of everyone in the saloon, his hand was already moving under her skirts.

She knew Aedion had seen, as well, and she gripped his arm and pulled him to the bar before he could say or do something stupid. He obeyed, though his jaw was set, and he flagged Hunt down, asking for two whiskeys. 

He set them down and Aelin asked, “Where’s Ress? He’s typically halfway through a bottle of Busthead by now.”

“Left,” Hunt said, looking around at the busy saloon. “Rhys hired a new sheriff, and Ress took the opportunity to run.” 

Aedion’s brows furrowed, downing his whiskey. After one last look at Lysandra, he asked, “Ran? Where?” 

Hunt shrugged. “No idea, he didn’t bother to say goodbye.” 

“Who is this new sheriff?” Aelin asked, hesitantly, looking around, as if she would instantly spot him and all of her questions would be answered. 

“Rowan Whitethorn.” Hunt meandered a little further down the bar, topping off an elderly woman with an absurd feathered headband. “Just got into town. Met with Rhys, Rhys made him sheriff.” 

Aedion looked at Aelin and didn’t like the look that had taken over her face. Her eyes were narrowed, her lips in a straight line. 

“Don’t-.”

“I’m going to see Rhys,” Aelin said, already hopping off her stool. Before Aedion could protest, Aelin was already out the door, walking down to Rhysand’s office. His light was still on, Aelin could still see the gas lamp burning near his open window. 

She didn’t bother to knock on the front door, rather she let herself in and was up the stairs before it had time to swing closed behind her.

Rhys’ head snapped up when she appeared in his doorway, forgetting whatever document he was looking at. “Miss Galathynius, hello.”

“I heard there’s a new sheriff.” She was breathless from the hurried walk over. “And I heard we need a new deputy.”

With a sigh, Rhysand sat down the pen in his hand. “I was afraid Ress might leave town with the position filled. I’ll have to see who I can come up with in the meantime. Cassian would-.”

“Let me,” she interrupted. “And not in the meantime. Let me be the sheriff’s deputy.”

Folding his hands on his desk, Rhys looked at her. “Aelin, are you sure that’s something you want?”

“You know I can handle myself, sir.” There wasn’t an ounce of hesitation in her eyes.

“That you can,” he said, rubbing his jaw in thought. “I’ll sign it into effect tomorrow. I believe I still saw a lamp on, across the street, in the apartment above the office. I believe you’ll find Sheriff Whitethorn there, if you’d like to make an introduction, Deputy Galathynius.”

Aelin liked the sound of that. “Thank you, Mayor Lunasa.”

“Please, call me-.”

“Rhys, yeah, yeah,” Aelin said, rolling her eyes, fondly, as she picked up her skirts.

Rhysand only chuckled as Aelin inclined her head, then left. She would be the first to admit that she didn’t act like most ladies did. Sure, she was cordial, respectful, and modest, but Aelin Galathynius wasn’t afraid to speak her mind, especially to a man. 

It was a well-known fact. 

Aelin walked across the street, keeping her eye on the lamp that burned in the apartment above the sheriff's office. She didn’t bother announcing her entrance as she swept through the front door. At first, she went toward the stairs in the back, but then she noticed the sloshing noise and took a turn, where a tall, broad-shouldered man was on his hands and knees, scrubbing at the floor with an old rag. 

He must’ve been in the zone, because he hadn’t heard her answer.

“What are you doing?”

He froze, slowly looking over his shoulder at Aelin. His hat was off, his sleeves rolled up, his silver hair a sweaty mess. 

“Cleaning up blood that I did not spill,” he replied, voice gruff. “Can I help you?” 

Aelin lifted her chin. “I’m your new deputy.”

He blinked. “Excuse me, miss?”

“You are Sheriff Whitethorn, correct?” He nodded. “Then I’m your deputy. Mayor Lunasa has already made it official. All I lack is my badge, sir.”

Dropping the blood-soaked, dirty rag into the bucket, Rowan stood up to his full height, and Aelin had to tilt her head up to look into his face. “Miss, I don’t know what Rhysand told you but-.”

“My name is Aelin Galathynius, Sheriff Whitethorn, and I’d prefer you use it over miss, ma’am, or any of the other bullshit men call me.”

He blinked, completely taken off guard. “Pardon?”

“I can tell what you’re thinking, sir.”

Rowan couldn’t help but chuckle, although the light didn’t reach his eyes. “And what is that, Aelin Galathynius?”

The way he said her name only pissed her off more. 

“That I have no business being a deputy because I’m a woman,” Aelin snapped. “Which, I protest, considering there is no logical reasoning for it. Yes, I am a woman, and yes, I am perfectly capable of being an outstanding deputy.” 

“With all due respect,” Rowan began, without missing a beat, “there is no way you can do this job well wearing...that.” His eyes travelled over her dress, her heeled boots, and her exquisite hat. “Besides, your hair is pristine, and whatever that is on your face. You wouldn’t want to mess it up, doing whatever must be done any given day in this line of work.” 

Aelin took pride in her appearance, but she also took pride in her skill. 

“I have the best shot in this town,” Aelin said, hands on her hips. “And, with all due respect, the mayor has already granted my wish, and you have no say in the matter.” 

“We’ll see about that,” Rowan said, seething. 

Aelin lifted up her skirt, and Rowan averted his eyes, although her undergarments remained perfectly hidden as she took her gun out of the holster on her thigh. 

Rowan stilled. “What are you doing?”

“Proving a point,” she said, chin raised. “Give me a target.”

“I’m not going to-.”

She pointed the gun into the front room, pulled the trigger and Rowan heard glass shattering.

“Are you insane?” He cried, running to the front of the office. “You can’t shoot out the damn windows! You could-.”

She followed him after holstering her gun at her thigh and fluffing out her skirts. He was staring, wide eyed at his desk, covered in whiskey. The bottle was intact, but the shot glass that had been filled with amber liquid next to it…

It no longer existed.

He heard her heeled boots coming up behind him and as she stepped around him, she grabbed the five-pointed badge lying on the corner of his desk.

“I’ll see you in the morning, Sheriff, and don’t worry,” she said, looming over her shoulder. “I’ll make sure I don’t look so pristine.”

_________

Nesta was running late, but she was so tired that she really didn’t care. 

She would be punished for something, anyway, it may as well have been for another twenty minutes of freedom. After slipping on her boots and pushing open the door, Nesta came to a halt.

Elain was bent over her flower bed, clipping lilies. 

“I thought you would be in town already,” Nesta said, shutting the front door behind her. 

Elain stood up, a handful of lilies in her arms. “Azriel buried another man today. I was going to go decorate the tombless patch of dirt.” 

Nesta looked out at the horizon. “It’s getting dark, El. You shouldn’t be going to the graveyard alone at dark.” Or, anywhere at dark, alone. 

“I’m not, Azriel will be here shortly to go with me,” she assured her older sister. 

Nesta nodded, descending the stairs. “Be careful. I’ll be home late, don’t wait up.”

“I won’t,” Elain said, although she always did. 

Giving her sister one more glance, she wrapped her shawl tighter around herself and hurried into town, hoping she could make it before Maeve realized she was late. She knew there was no chance, was sure she was already watching the door from her booth. It made her pick up her pace, just a little more.

A horse whinnied from up ahead and she glanced up to see Cassian Nazari dismounting from his horse, outside of the saloon. He was walking up the stairs, and Nesta breathed a sigh of relief, as she thought she wouldn’t have to deal with his longing glances tonight. But then he stopped.

As if he could feel her gaze, he turned to look at her, and Nesta’s steps slowed until she was standing in the middle of the dusty road. She stood there, waiting for him to enter the saloon. He stood, waiting for her to come closer, but he didn’t. She wouldn’t until he was inside, so she wouldn’t have to listen to his pleas.

Nesta wasn’t stuck in Maeve’s servitude like many of her girls. Nesta was there to keep Elain from her clutches, knowing she’d do something  ensnare her.

It made every day hell on earth, but Nesta would continue to do it, would continue to enslave herself, if it meant keeping Elain safe. Elain didn’t have the heart for such a life, wouldn’t be able to bear it. 

Cassian’s eyes slowly fell to his feet before he continued his walk inside of the saloon, where he disappeared. A sudden pang of disappointment settled into the pit of Nesta’s stomach, even though he went in without her, which was exactly what she had wanted. 

As she entered, she avoided Cassian’s stare from the bar as she swept inside. She also avoided Maeve’s glare, but she didn’t make it far. 

“Nesta.”

Nesta stopped as she approached the wooden staircase and slowly turned around. 

Maeve sat in her booth, staring daggers at Nesta from where she sat. Nesta kept her chin held high as she approached the booth. 

She didn’t say a word.

“You are late,” Maeve said, quietly. “Which costs me money.”

“Yes, ma’am,” she replied. She knew there was no point in apologizing or giving excuses. Maeve wouldn’t listen and they were likely to piss her off more. “I’ll be dressed and find a client in just a few moments.”

“You’ve already got a client,” Maeve replied, putting a cigarette to her lips and lighting a match. The tip of the cigarette glowed red, just like her painted lips. “Mr. Mandray has paid handsomely for your time, and you will be in his service for two hours. Now go. There’s cosmetics in your room. Use them, you have bags under your eyes.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Nesta repeated, and was hurrying up the stairs.

Nesta didn’t live in the brothel above the saloon, not like some of the less fortunate girls. No, when their father had passed unexpectedly last winter, the house and land they lived on was already paid in full.

As she reached her door, the one across the hall opened and Nesta found Bryce Quinlar pulling her own shut. Her hair was a mess and the cosmetics she wore were smeared. She wore only a corset, thigh highs and her boots. She was bare from the waist down. Their eyes connected and Nesta quickly pulled a handkerchief from the bag she carried.

“Here.” She wiped the wayward makeup from her face and did her best to make her look presentable. She knew what walk she was about to have to make, they’d all had to do it from time to time.

The smile was sad, but it was a smile as she breathed, “Thank you.”

As Nesta entered her room to get ready for her own client, Bryce stood at the top of the stairs, trying to calm her shallow breathing.

Her room was lavish. 

Maeve always made sure of it, that their rooms were beautiful, exquisite even. It was their reward for doing her dirty work, night after night. 

They were forced to sell their bodies, but at least they had silk sheets. 

At the vanity on the far wall was the cosmetics that Maeve had so lovingly suggested that she used. She did, primping herself to perfection. After she figured she looked beautiful enough, she stripped out of her street dress and exchanged her old, ratty corset for the one that Maeve had paid for, the one that the clients liked. She rolled her stockings up to her thighs, then slipped on her boots, lacing them up before she sat on the edge of the bed, posing, waiting. 

She tried not to think of what Bryce was currently enduring downstairs. For whatever it was worth, she sent whatever power she could to her imprisoned sister on the floor below. 

A sudden knock came to the door, and Nesta tried not to jump. At least, she tried to erase the tense hold in her shoulders as the door swung open, and Tomas Mandray swept in, shutting the door behind him.

His bleary eyes were instantly on her, hungry. 

Nesta pushed down the need to puke as she lifted her chin and whispered, “I’ve been waiting for you.” 

The night had only just begun.

—————

Bryce was on her third client and it wasn’t even eight-thirty. She was exhausted, but she wasn’t about to show it, wasn’t about to exact Maeve’s wrath upon herself. 

The man lying on the bed beneath her was old enough to be her father, possibly even her grandfather. She couldn’t remember his name, nor did she want to, but she remembered what Maeve had murmured in her ear before she sat her on his lap in the saloon.

He’s paid a premium for you. What he wants, he gets.

Usually that meant she was going to be spit on or defiled in some way. But sometimes, that meant he wanted to humiliate her. The dark gleam in this man’s eyes told her early in the evening that she needed to shut her mind down, to take herself to that place inside of her head that could numb her.

“Get off.” The man gripped her hips and shoved her off of him. “Go get me a drink.” She nodded and climbed off the bed, reaching for her skirts-. “No.”

Bryce turned to look at him, hoping he didn’t see the pleading in her eyes.

“Leave them off.”

A silent nod and she was out the door.

The kindness Nesta Archeron offered her was more than she deserved and after cleaning her up a bit, Bryce was walking down the stairs, cool air hitting her in places she wished it never would.

Every eye was on her as she descended the stairs, some in pity, some hunger, some judgement. She tried not to look at any of them, most of all Maeve, who looked proud of the good little whore she’d become.

She paid attention to no one, nothing, until she was at the bar, but when she met the eyes of Hunt Athalar, he was shaking, seething. 

“Don’t, please,” she breathed, barely a whisper. She and Hunt had had the same conversation a million times, and she was so tired, it just wasn’t worth it, wasn’t worth the repetitiveness, not anymore. 

“He doesn’t even have the decency to let you dress?” he snapped, his voice low, looking around, giving anyone looking at her a death-glare. 

In a dreadful, monotone voice, Bryce answered, “He isn’t finished yet.” 

Hunt’s jaw hardened. “Bryce-.”

“Whiskey.”

“Bryce,” he tried, again, unmoving. “Let me give you my jacket, something-.” 

“Whiskey,” she repeated, trying to keep that part of her shut down, those emotions that longed for the man behind the bar, the yearning that brewed so passionately beneath the surface. 

With weary eyes he fetched a half-empty bottle of whiskey and handed it to her. As she reached for it, he wrapped his hand around hers, not caring who saw. 

“I’ve almost got enough,” he whispered, leaning over the bar, closer to her. She could smell the bourbon on his breath, could see the desperate plea in his eyes.

She glanced around, making sure Maeve couldn’t see them, seeing if anyone was watching. “It will never be enough, Hunt, she’ll always-.”

“I don’t give a shit. One day, we’re leaving this piece of shit town behind. You and me.”

Before she could let herself believe him, before she could let herself hope or dream or even feel, she swallowed hard and hurried away, back up the stairs, back to her own personal hell.

[shadow--writer]

Bittersweetness

Julian x mc (no pronouns used!) -- set in universe -- after upright endish

Word count: 4.5k

TW: none!

Tags: hurt comfort, fluff, angst, loneliness, Julian works too much, a little spicy at the end but nothing nsfw

~~~~

Some days it was hard for me to fall asleep. Some days it was even harder to wake up. Julian was always out or working, leaving me with the small ache in my chest as I thought about him. 

He was working when I fell asleep at night and was gone when I woke in the morning. 

Some days I’d wait up for him, reading and practicing spells. He’d come through the door, smelling sweet like mint and cinnamon and bitter like medicine. His hair would be a ruffled mess, eyes tired and sagging. Purple bags made permanent residence under his eyes and his lashes would brush his cheeks lazily as he blinked. 

Tonight I pretended to be asleep when he came in. Just to see what he’d do.

His voice was thick with exhaustion as he watched me pretending to sleep. “Ah asleep again,” he whispered, peeling off his gloves and boots. Off came the shirt and pants and then his sleepwear.

He never wore anything much during the summer. Just some low hanging pants a friend made for him. Venezuela was always sticky and too hot during the summer months making wearing anything else a chore. 

The bed sighed under his weight as he sat down, running a hand through his hair. There was a small chuckle from him, it rumbled from his chest and sent a spike of warmth threading through my stomach.

“Hey there sweetheart,” he said, scooting closer to me. He brushed my hair out of my face. I struggled to keep the peaceful look on. He planted a gentle kiss against my forehead, combing my hair away from my face and across my pillow. “I love you, you know. Even if I can’t be around as much...work is picking up now that the clinic is being talked about. More and more housecalls and people getting sick.”

There was a sigh as he settled into bed, arms wrapping around me. His legs tangled into mine, his nose buried into the back of my neck. His breath was warm against my skin. I let out a small sigh myself, sinking into his touch.

“I promise I’ll take a day off soon. I just need some time...to get back into things,” he murmured, lips ghosting my neck. “Thank you darling. Thank you.” A whisper. A breath. 

And he was out. 

I let out a small gasp of breath, feeling warm tears slide down my cheeks. 

I missed him.

I missed him so much it hurt.

~~

He was gone when I woke up. The only sign he was really there was the small cooling dent in the bed and the feeling of breath on my neck.

I got to my feet, wrapping a blanket around my shoulders. It smelled like him. Like leather, cinnamon and coffee. Something bitter lay under all of it. Something bitter coated my tongue and heart. 

As I moved to the kitchen I noticed that the apartment smelled nice. Like honey and coffee beans. 

I shuffled into the kitchen, tears springing to my eyes when I saw he made coffee and breakfast. The source of the good smell. By my plate of pancakes was a little note. His handwriting was messy as ever but over time I learned to read it. 

Hello my love,

Sorry I had to go so early. I swear I’ll be home earlier tonight. Things are getting very busy and I might need to hire new help soon. Which is both exciting and scary I’ll admit. 

I hope you like this peace offering of mine. Pasha taught me how to make these. It was a lot of trial and error. 

I love you more than the sun in the sky darling dear of mine. One of these days I’ll prove it to you. 

See you tonight. 

Yours,

Ilya

I held the note to my face, tears stinging my eyes. Weeks. It had been weeks since we really talked. Talked without one of us sleeping or pretending to sleep. 

I kissed the note softly, bringing it down to hug while I sat down. 

The coffee was sweeter today. He knew how I liked it. The pancakes were perfect if a bit toasty. I smiled a little. He wouldn’t stop until they were absolutely perfect. Even if I was happy with how they were now. 

My smile faded at the edges as I looked out the window at the rising sun. The day was already warm and sticky. It always was like this in the summer. Couldn’t catch a break. 

I knew Julian was right next door. Easy enough distance to go. 

But he was probably busy. He always was. 

I finished my breakfast, getting up to wash the dishes and think for a moment. Spotting the rest of the dirty dishes in the sink I knew I had a few good hours of washing with my thoughts.

As I scrapped off the plates I thought about what I could do. I could try making him lunch and bringing it over. 

My heart fluttered at the thought. 

Yes. That’s what I’d do. Make him something too. 

I quickly finished up the dishes in the sink. Forks and spoons went into their drawers and I set a few pans on a towel to air dry. 

Tucking the dish I held into a towel I set to work. 

I knew he liked warmer lunches and soups. Even in the summer. But there was something said about eating something that left a trail of warmth as you ate it. 

I was no Mazelinka but I knew he’d appreciate the sentiment. 

I got to work on a sweet potato mushroom soup. We had extra potatoes that I didn’t know what to do with. So what better way to use them than for lunch?

I peeled and mashed the potatoes, slicing up the mushrooms with care and a small hum. I grabbed a clean pot, setting it to simmer over the stove. In went the potatoes then spices. It made the house smell like butter, cumin and sweet potatoes. While I waited for that, I sliced up some plain bread with sharp cheddar. 

I made lemonade and tucked it into a cooling glass. I had extra, maybe I’ll freeze it and make lemon popsicles to share later today.

I quickly made my own lunch, standing back to admire my hard work. Breathing in I coughed a little. The air was stifling already and it wasn’t even noon yet. 

But soon his lunch was ready. I packed it into a paper bag, hoping he’d be there so I could give it to him myself. I quickly got dressed and tugged my shoes on. It was a quick trip next door, then I’d go to the market to get things for dinner. 

He...he probably wasn’t going to be back in time for dinner anyways. 

I bit my cheek as I pushed my way inside the clinic. Inside was the same as always. Large bookshelves filled with different books ranging from research to adventure novels. Kids lay on the ground with little toys and colouring books as they waited for their checkups. 

The secretary brightened when he saw me walk in. “Ah! Dr. Devorak is in his office around back, you made it just in time he just finished up with his last patient before housecalls!”

I blinked, and then smiled. “O-Oh thank you! I brought lunch for him.”

The secretary’s eyes sparkled with mischief as they took in my barely thrown together appearance. “I’ll keep people away for as long as I can,” he said with a wink making me blush. 

“No need we won’t be doing much! I’m just bringing him lunch.” Another smile. “Just lunch.”

“Whatever you say. He’s back in his office, last door down the hall.”

Face red and heart racing I whisper another thank you and move down the clinic quickly. There voices from some of the other doors, but I ignored them, knocking gently on the door labeled ‘Devorak’.

“Ah yes? Come in! I was just heading out to lunch!” Julian’s voice. 

My heart skipped a beat at it. We were both awake this time. 

I pushed the door open a bit more with a smile. “Hey darling,” I said. His eyes went wide, and he broke out in a grin. 

“Sweetheart! Y-You came to see me!” I closed the door with a small click, making his eyes jump to the sound. His cheeks warmed but he still smiled. “Mmm and what’s that smell?”

“Lunch. I made you something. And of course I came to see you, you silly duck. The shop is closed today for restocking. Asra was going to drop by later to help out so I’m free.”

“And you made me something to eat?” His eyes welled up. “Darling you didn’t have to do that!”

“I did. And I won’t be taking no for an answer.”

“At least eat with me!”

My eyes widened a fraction. I did bring my own lunch, I was going to see if Portia wanted to eat with me and then go around the market. 

But now that this opportunity appeared…

“Are you sure? Don’t you have work to do?”

His face was ashen pale. He really needed sunlight. “No no I’m on my lunch break now! Besides, I’d like to spend this time with you. I haven’t seen you in weeks!”

I bit my cheek from snarking at him. It wasn’t his fault, but it still hurt. 

Even so, I smiled softly. “Yeah. I’d love that.”

He grinned, patting the chair next to him. I sat down, handing him the paper bag. “Mmmm sweet potato soup?”

“I warn you I’m no Mazelinka-”

“Darling, you made this, making it even more special to me.”

I turned away with a smile, my cheeks warming. “It’s nothing special.”

“It is for me. And it smells so good, darling you are a wonder.”

I giggled. “Well you already made breakfast for me so I thought I’d return the favour.”

He kissed my cheek, digging in. 

I ate as well, slowly to savour these stolen moments with him. We talked about this and that. The leech dealer and her wife. About the different kids that would come in. How excited he was to get his day off and spend it with me.

“Where would we go?” I asked at that question.

He stopped talking, his hands dropping what they were doing. “Huh?”

I tucked my legs up into the chair under me, scooting closer to him. His eye twinkled. “Where would we go?”

“Well...I was thinking we could go for a boat ride in the fixing up flooded district.” He was leaning in closer to me. 

“And then?”

“After rocking the boat with some fun activities…” I let myself smile. I had an idea what activities he’d do in that poor little boat with me. “We’d go for a walk up in the meadows right outside town. Into the fields and by that great big willow tree by the stream.”

“And?”

“We’d have a picnic! We’d fool around in the wheat, maybe play hide and seek.” I giggled. That sounded lovely. “And once it gets dark I’ll take you down the stream and up this little rock formation I found. There we’ll stargaze together before you fall asleep and I have to carry you home.”

“And when I wake up at home all cozy in our bed…?”

He kissed my forehead, then moved to kiss my cheeks. “I’ll hold you. Cuddle and talk together. Run my hands through your hair, press your body against mine. Never let you go. We’ll fall asleep like that together and in the morning wake like that together.”

“Then I’ll get up first and make breakfast.”

“I’ll come down tired and grumpy that you left me.”

“I’ll kiss you as an apology and give you your coffee and we’ll talk some more.”

He kissed my nose, my browbones. “After breakfast we’ll call on some friends and go out together and maybe stay the night with them.”

“Going to the Rowdy Raven for a pint first.”

“Of course.”

I laughed, throwing my mouth open and my head back. He grinned at the sound, kissing my chin and the skin just below. “I love you,” he murmured. 

I let out a small hum, brushing my hands up his arms. He shivered at the small caress. I opened my mouth to respond. “I-”

“DOCTOR!” The secretary burst in. He caught my eye, and winced with apology seeing where we were positioned. I didn’t feel embarrassed. 

Just...sad.

“Ah! What’s wrong?” Julian snapped back, getting to his feet. I watched it all unfold, hurt snapping through my bones. 

“House call. Broken leg. Fell off a horse. Bone is sticking out. Mother is frantic with worry. Kid is fifteen.”

Julian winced, quickly packing his bag. “Tell her to wait a moment and I will be right there.”

He turned to look at me. I must’ve not been hiding my hurt very well because he frowned. “I’m so sorry darling I’ll make it up to you-”

I waved him off, forcing a smile. “No no! I can’t ask you to pull away from a kid in need. Go on and help him. I’ll be here.”

His eye swam with worry and concern. “I’m still sorry, my love. I’ll be home tonight. Early. I promise.” He kissed my forehead, and hurried out the door. 

I knew that was a lie. Things always got bad after dark. The night got sticky and warm. Heat strokes, bar fights, sneaking out. He wouldn’t be back until late.

I looked down at my lap, at the empty dishes on his desk. At the mess of paper and messy handwriting. My picture was at one end of the desk, another frame of us together next to it. Our friends all smiling at the ocean. 

I curled my knees to my chin, looking at the door he left from. 

“I love you,” I whispered to nothing but air.

~~

Dinner went cold two hours ago. I put away the leftovers an hour after waiting. I fell asleep soon after that, angry and bitter at the world for taking him from me like this. 

I missed him so much that it was clear on my face. 

I startled awake at three in the morning from a dream. A good dream or bad dream I didn’t know. I just knew I trembled alone in the dark, my skin clammy with the summer heat and my own sweat. 

My cheeks were stiff with the salt of unshed tears as I got to my feet. I pulled socks on over my toes, trying to keep as quiet as possible when I snuck down into the kitchen to get some water. 

Julian was fast asleep on his side of the bed, legs sprawled out like a starfish. He looked peaceful and I didn’t want to disturb that. 

It was a nightmare I decided. I had a bad dream. My stomach was tied in knots and my hands still trembled as I got water from the sink. My tongue was coated in something bitter and I just felt...empty. 

The bad dream aches would go away soon, only to be replaced with the almost homesick feeling.

I loved him. Don’t get me wrong I loved him so much. 

But I didn’t know how much longer I could keep going without hearing his voice in the morning, eating with him just...being with him. 

I stood by the counter, swaying my hips a little as I drank water. The water washed away the stale taste in my mouth but did nothing to help the bitter feeling. My hands slowly stopped shaking and my body stopped aching as I moved. 

“What’re you doing up so early?” I stopped what I was doing, turning to see Julian running a hand through his hair. His pants hung very low on his hips, his feet bare. The moonlight seemed to make him glow. His eyes softened as he looked at me. “Bad dreams?”

Wordlessly I nodded. 

He crossed the distance between us, wrapping me up in a hug. “I know I’m late to comfort you. I know I haven’t been the best in these last few days. These last few weeks,” he whispered to my hair. 

I didn’t say a word, not wanting to interrupt this moment. I just closed my eyes, breathing him in. We swayed a little, rocking from foot to foot. 

Then he pulled away from the hug, letting my hands slide down his arms into his waiting palms. He held my hands gently, slowly drawing me into a slow dance. 

Letting one hand go he spun me. The movement was slow, his other hand brushed my hip. A whisper of a question. 

When I stopped spinning I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him in closer. Almost immediately his arms went around my waist, his face buried in my neck and mine in his. 

His hands shifted my nightshirt up, his fingers cold as ice against my sticky warm skin. I let out a small gasp, making him smile. 

Squeezing my eyes shut, I leaned into the touch. His fingers danced up and down my sides, running down my ribs and resting on my hip bone. I pressed a soft kiss into his neck making him let out a small gasping breath. 

“I want you,” he whispered. 

“I want you,” I responded. 

“I’ve wanted you for so long. Here. In my arms. With me. Alone,” he said, kissing the side of my neck and my jaw. “Soft touches and kisses. Just you and me. I want...I want to touch you.”

“Touch me then,” I breathed, my voice seeming to come out in a gasp. 

He smiled, kissing my cheek. “As you wish.”

His hands moved from my sides to my face. Down my shoulders and arms. His fingers were so cold, but they felt nice against my clammy skin. His brows were pinched in worry, love and guilt shining in that eye he always kept covered. 

“It must’ve been one hell of a nightmare,” he said, brushing at my cheeks with his thumbs. 

I nuzzled into the touch making his breath hitch. “It must’ve been but I don’t remember it now.”

He brushed a kiss at the spots he touched. I wanted to huff in annoyance. I wanted him to kiss me. I wanted to kiss him. I wanted him to spin me out of control until all I could see and touch and taste and feel was him. 

We danced around the kitchen in slow swaying movements. He was humming a slow bittersweet tune. One that made me feel as he did. 

He was guilty. He hated leaving me alone. Leaving me missing him as he missed me. 

He pulled out of my touch, bringing my hands down to his face. He planted small kisses on my palms and fingertips. Then following the trail he lay with his fingers he kissed up my left arm. My skin tingled with goosebumps at the touch of his lips. 

He pressed soft kisses on the inside of my wrists, tongue flicking over the veins and skin. He was gentle with me. Oh so heartbreakingly gentle. 

He moved up my arm. To my forearm and then my elbow. His lips were a ghost over my skin, making me arch my head back as he moved. 

Farther up my arm now, kissing my biceps and the soft skin right before my underarms. Then he planted kisses on my shoulders, nipping at the skin there. The muscle where my shoulder met my neck. When he bit down softly I let out a gasp, my hands tightening against his arms. 

He smiled, tongue flicking over the spot as he resumed kissing up my neck. When he reached my face he planted one final kiss on my jaw and left me craving his warmth once again. 

Holding his hands I swung our arms up and down a bit as I planned my move. He was here with me. I had him all to myself in these quiet moments in the morning. The moon was our only witness, the only light to see him by. 

He was strong, my Julian. Broad shoulders and strong arms. Broad chest leading into a small waist that I could wrap my arms around so easily. A face with strong lips always with a smile on them. Grey eyes. Grey eyes filled with so much adoration for me it hurt. Messy auburn hair falling around his face in soft waves. 

I haven’t gotten to look at him, truly look at him in a while. 

I repeated what he did to me moments prior. I kissed his hands. His large calloused hands that had seen so much blood. Helped so many. Let go of more. His breathing hitched as I kissed each of his fingertips. 

I kissed his wrists, biting softly at the skin there, just kneading it between my teeth for a heartbeat. His heart thudded softly. Soft feathery kisses up his forearm and against his elbow. Up his biceps, pausing at each scar to give it it’s own kiss. 

“Oh darling,” he breathed. 

I said nothing, just kissed his shoulders. “You have very cold hands,” he whispered as I ran my hands up his chest. 

I kissed the skin of shoulder meeting neck, raising my eyes to meet his. “I should say the same about you.”

He chuckled, the sound cutting out as I took the skin between my teeth. “Oh,” he said, his voice turning into a soft moan that warmed my stomach. 

I let it go too soon, and I knew it was too soon when he let out a small huff. Hiding my smile with more kisses I moved on. 

Up his neck, biting softly and kissing as I went. He squirmed a bit, hands moving down to my waist. Fingers drummed along my hips, drumming to the tune of his choked hum. 

I came to the spot I knew he liked biting best. The muscle behind his ear, meeting his jaw. I kissed it softly, before biting down. 

The noise he made sent sparks through my veins. A breathy mix between a sigh, moan and groan. 

He made it again when I flicked my tongue over the spot I bit. 

“Careful now darling,” he breathed, chest heaving against my fingers. His heart thudded so quickly against my touch. “I might just need to have you noooooooo-” he let out another moan, cutting himself off as I bit down on the spot again. 

“Hush now my love,” I whispered, moving on to kiss where his jaw met his ear. He let out another hum of pleasure. 

“Mmm I love you,” he whispered. 

I planted a kiss on his jaw, his cheeks, the tip of his nose. The bridge of his nose. I had to stand on my toes to kiss his forehead, him bending down to the touch. 

“I love you too,” I whispered as I kissed his temple. 

“Mmm kiss me,” he murmured. 

I let out a small giggle. “I am kissing you.”

His eyes snapped up to meet mine. “No I want a real kiss.”

“What’s the magic word?”

“Please.”

The pleading tone of his voice made me pause. I grinned, making him wilt a little bit, the two of us still swaying and shifting our weight from foot to foot. 

“Say it again.”

“Please.”

I held his face in my hands. “One more time?”

“Only if you say it back.”

I giggled. “Please?”

He didn’t respond, just kissed me. I didn’t care that he didn’t say it again. I didn’t care that I felt sticky and warm. 

I just cared that he was here with me. 

I moved my hands from his face, wrapping my arms around his neck again. He leaned into me, making me hold onto him for balance as he pressed me against the counter. 

His lips were needy. Begging mine. Pleading with me. They whispered things we left unsaid. They whispered apologizes and littles pleas. 

I only hoped mine held the answers. 

“Darling,” he said, lips brushing against mine with the word. 

I slowly opened my eyes, he was so close. So close. So heartbreakingly close. Illuminated by moonlight he seemed like some ethereal being. 

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry.”

I blinked. “Julian...you don’t have anything to be sorry for. You got caught up in work that’s f-fine.” My voice caught on fine. It cracked. 

He knew it wasn’t fine. 

“You stuttered,” he said, nuzzling my face. “That means you’re lying. It’s not fine. I know it’s not fine.”

“But-”

“Let me finish. I got caught up because everyone is getting hurt all the time. There aren’t many doctors or help in my clinic. I really do need to hire.” I let out a breathy laugh. “I’ll set that up tomorrow. I swear it.”

“You haven’t come through with your promises as of late.”

He kissed my cheek. “I know and I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too. For not...trying.”

“Darling you of all people have nothing to be sorry for!” He sounded offended. 

I offered him a small smile. “But I do. I didn’t try. This is a two way street. If I want something I need to give something in return. I love you Julian, and I’m sorry for not trying. Not trying to see you. Not trying to see if you can take a break.”

“Sweetheart. Love of mine. My darling. Dearest. You understand how important work is to me, and that’s why you stayed away.”

I looked away. “I do. But I still care about your wellbeing and I should have said something.”

There was a small rumble from him. A chuckle. “We both should have to be honest.”

I laughed. “Yeah, we should’ve.”

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

He took his face out of my cheek, kissing me softly. “For loving me. The mess that I am.”

I didn’t argue with it. He was a mess.

And so was I.

“Thank you for loving me. All my broken pieces,” I said, pulling him closer. “And for helping me find my pieces still missing.”

He kissed me again. And again. 

“Broken is not the same as unfixable my dear. And you are wonderful and perfect no matter how many pieces seem to be broken or missing.”

I sealed my mouth over his, breaking away after a few moments of just enjoying how he tasted. Smelled.

Felt.

“Well Dr. Devorak. I’m here now. With you.”

His eyes lit up with mischief and something more. “Alone…” he said.

I kissed his cheek. “So what are you going to do about it?”

He picked me up, making me let out a small squeal. I wrapped my legs around his waist, clinging to him like ivy. His arms fell back around my waist, squeezing my butt making me laugh. 

With another sweet kiss to my lips he whispered, “I guess we’ll have to see.”

The door to our bedroom clicked as it closed. 

[ghstandpucks]

Cutting Edge ~ Nathan MacKinnon Ch. 8

Hi everyone! I hope you are all doing well! I’m sorry this chapter took so long, but I hope you all like it! After school is done for the semester I will have time to update more frequently! This chapter kind of just feels out their relationship, setting up for the final chapters to come! Enjoy and let me know what you think!

I hope you all have a happy Thanksgiving if you celebrate! Be safe and stay healthy!

Prologue Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch.5 Ch.6 Ch.7

  Monday afternoon found Nate and yourself at the rink after practice was over. The two of you had spent a lazy Sunday together, working out how this relationship was going to work. You both decided to keep it quiet, seeing as neither of you were fond of the media to begin with. Also, you did not think it would look good for you and the program if word got out. The two of you wanted to enjoy the fun that’s supposed to come with the beginning of a relationship and not feel pressured by outside sources. You also decided that the team would find out as they found out, agreeing that it would help to have people on your side if word were to get out to the public.

All of this didn’t matter though as at the moment Nate had picked you up to move you to the side as he shot a puck into the net. “Not fair!” you yelled, laughing as Nate skated back over to you, kissing your forehead with a smirk. “That has to be a foul.”

           “A foul?” Nate questioned you.

           “A flag?” you questioned as he shook his head and chuckled. He was about to correct you when you jumped in. “Oh wait, a penalty! Yup! That has to be a penalty!”

           “Come on Coach, you really should know the terminology better by now,” he grinned, snaking his arms around your waist.

           “Guess you’ll have to do a better job at teaching me,” you smiled up at him, wrapping your hand that was not holding a hockey stick around the back of Nate’s neck.

           “Is that so?” he questioned, leaning in. You nodded your head as he kissed you. You were thankful for your toe picks in that moment, allowing you stand on your tip toes without taking the both of you out. Nate held you tight to him as he deepened the kiss, and you were about to let go of your stick when someone cleared their throat. The both of you jumped away from each other like shrapnel, looking over to see who caught you. Gabe stood at the edge of the rink with his arms crossed.

           “If the two of you are trying to keep this a secret, maybe don’t make out in an open space,” he said, then grinned at you and Nate. He couldn’t help it; he honestly liked the thought of the both of you together. That and both you and Nate were bright red with embarrassment of being caught. “Are you trying to keep this a secret?”

           “I think more just quiet,” you said softly, looking over at Nate. He nodded in agreement.

           “We don’t plan on telling anyone. Just if they find out, then they find out,” Nate clarified for you. Gabe nodded.

           “I won’t say anything. Besides to Mel that is. But seriously guys, hide better if you don’t really want word out about this. I know he’s concerned about your program Coach, so I’m assuming you are too,” Gabe said matter of fact. It was your turn to nod. Nate grabbed your hand and started to skate over to Gabe.

           “Thanks man,” he said once you got closer. Gabe smiled, looking between the two of you.

           “Of course. I’m happy for the both of you. But he better not get any special treatment Coach, or I will call you out,” he tried to act seriously, but you could see the amusement all over his face.

           “Oh please, he’s the only one I’ve made skate extra laps before,” you giggled, bumping your hip into Nate’s, which was more of his thigh at your height difference.

           “I’m going to hold you to that,” Gabe chuckled, and you dramatically saluted him. “I’ll see you tomorrow guys.” After he left, the two of you decided it was time to leave also.

           “Maybe we should be a little more discrete,” you said as you were taking your skates off.

           “I didn’t think anyone else was here. I definitely didn’t think of anyone coming back in,” Nate said, cleaning the ice off of his.

           “It’ll be fine right, if word gets out that we’re dating?” you asked, and Nate could tell you were beginning to overthink. He placed his hand on top of yours and gave it a slight squeeze.

           “We’ll be just fine Y/N. And I’ll be right there beside you,” Nate reassured you and you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your lips. “But, we probably should be a little more aware of our surroundings. So, lunch at your place or mine?”

~ ~ ~

           Later that month the team had just arrived back in Denver after a week-long road trip. You had been more careful in your relationship with Nate, texting more on the road instead of sitting next to each other. Finally being back home though gave you two the privacy you wanted. You were currently sitting crossed legged in the middle of Nate’s bed as he unpacked his clothes, having stolen one of his Avs’ hoodies. After arriving back home, Nate had asked you to come over instead of going home first, as he figured you would pass out the second you hit the couch, or bed in this instance. “Can we take a nap?” you lazily watched him bustle around his room. It wasn’t the first time you had been over, but it was the first time you had been this comfortable. As soon as you had walked through the door of his apartment you changed into a pair of leggings and stole his sweatshirt, the chill of the vacant place getting to you. Nate was about to give you a hard time, until he looked at you and it seemed like his world stopped. He loved seeing you dressed up for games and then skating at the rink, but now he thinks that this is his favorite look on you. He walked over to you and placed a kiss on your forehead, laughing as you gave him your best puppy dog eyes.

           “Aren’t you hungry?” he asked, as you had been complaining about how your stomach was starting to ‘eat itself’ as you put it.

           “Cuddles first, then food.” You responded as Nate sat on the bed and tackled you down, causing you to giggle.

           “You’re so demanding,” he mumbled, tracing the 29 that was on your shoulder.

           “All part of my charm,” you stated, snuggling into his chest as Nate chuckled. Nate started to tell you about the Mile High Dream Gala coming up as you slowly drifted off, feeling warm and content in his arms.

           About an hour later, a phone ringing woke you up. You cuddled into Nate’s side, one of his arms under you and resting on your hip as the other held your hand that was resting on his chest. You grumbled, rolling over as Nate answered his phone. You could hear Andre on the other end. As you started to drift off again, you had the sudden urge to sneeze…and it came out much louder than you anticipated. You stifled a giggle as Nate absentmindedly said “bless you.” Andre must have asked who he was talking to because the next words out of Nate’s mouth were, “Y/N just sneezed,” and both of your eyes went wide. Time to put Andre on the list of people who knew. Nate told him the two of you were keeping it quiet, and he seemed to understand from the look on Nate’s face. Once Nate hung up, you sat up and started to scoot yourself off the bed. “Where are you going?” Nate mumbled, grabbing the fabric at the back of your stolen sweatshirt.

           “I was going to go get those take out menus you have so we could order dinner,” you stated, falling back onto the bed and smiling up at Nate as he trapped you beneath him.

           “Five more minutes,” he whispered, kissing you softly then moving to kiss your neck.

           “Five more minutes,” you hummed.

~ ~ ~

           A week later the Gala had arrived and you were finishing putting on your earrings, staring at the dress Mel had helped you picked out in the mirror. When you told her that you weren’t sure what to wear, she had picked you up and took you shopping. You ended up with a deep blue floor length dress with a slit up the side. Slipping on your nude heels, your phone went off with a text from Mel saying that her and Gabe were there to pick you up. While Mel was gushing about how adorable she thought you and Nate were, you admitted that you didn’t think arriving with him to the Gala would be a good idea. She told you not to worry, then called you the next day to tell you that her and Gabe would pick you up, then have to leave before you and secure you a “ride home” with Nate. You laughed at her scheming, but were also grateful to have someone like Mel on your side.

           “You look amazing!” Mel said as you hopped into the back seat.

           “Thanks! So do you!” you smiled back at her. “Thanks for the ride you guys.”

           “No problem Coach. You do look very nice,” Gabe complimented you, shooting you a smile through the mirror. You thanked him and talked with them the rest of the way to the Gala. Once you were there and about to walk in, Gabe offered you his elbow to hold on to as Mel was at his other side.

           “Are you trying to have two hot dates?” Mel teased her husband as you placed your hand in the crook of his arm.

           “I mean, who doesn’t?” Gabe chuckled. “But I think someone might fight me for this one…” he tilted his head toward you. “…so I guess I’ll stick with you,” he kissed Mel on her cheek and you couldn’t help but smile at the happy couple. Upon entering the hall, the smell of wonderful appetizers filled your nose and chatter filled the air. Looking to the left, Bednar was the first to spot your little group arriving and made his way over, introducing you to his wife. As you exchanged pleasantries, you felt a presence stand next to you and smiled wider as you looked over at Nate. He was in a grey suit that fit him perfectly, and it took everything in you to not wrap your arms around him. His tie was blue, and you laughed at the unintentional match. You hadn’t shown him your dress, or told him the color for that matter because you liked keeping things a surprise every once in a while.

           “MacKinnon, you didn’t bring anyone?” Bednar asked, shaking Nate’s hand.

           “No sir,” he responded with a soft smile.

           “Take this one. Two dates are a handful,” Gabe nudged you into Nate as Mel smacked his arm playfully.

           “Rude,” you laughed, hoping you weren’t blushing too much in front of Bednar. But if Bednar noticed anything, he didn’t say and just chuckled.

           “We have a table Y/N. But if you’d rather sit with them you are more than welcomed to. I know you’ve become friends with some of the players,” Bednar said, motioning to the Landeskog’s and Nate. You opened your mouth to say something that still made your relationship with everyone seem professional, but he cut you off. “Which is a good thing. They trust you more that way. And I trust whatever relations you have you are using your best judgment.” Bednar smiled at you as you nodded.

           “Of course,” was all you could say as Bednar took his leave. You turned to Nate, slightly uneasy. “Does he know?” you whispered.

           “I didn’t think so,” Nate said, looking at where his coach had walked off to. When he turned back to you, he grinned. “You look beautiful.” You ducked your head as you felt your cheeks heat up.

           “Thank you. You clean up nicely as well,” you responded as Nate offered you his arm to walk you over to the table Gabe and Mel had set up at. Mel eyed you as you approached.

           “You guys are disgustingly cute. I can’t with either of you,” she said.

           “I think Bednar knows something,” you said as you sat next to her, Nate sitting on your other side.

           “What did he say?” she questioned you.

           “He said he knew I was becoming friends with the team and that he trusts I am using my best judgment,” you filled her in. Gabe chuckled and you quirked an eyebrow at him.

           “You guys don’t realize it but you kind of gravitate toward each other at practice. It’s not anything too noticeable, but if you are paying attention you can see that at the least the two of you are comfortable in each other’s presence.” Gabe filled you in. You turned to look at Nate and he just shrugged.

           “That’s not a bad thing,” he said, and you agreed. At least Bednar didn’t seem upset by it. As the night continued you had been introduced to many new people and had answered many questions about why integrating figure skating into hockey was useful. You found you way back to your table and sat down, your feet starting to hurt. No one said 3-inch heels was a good idea. You had also lost Nate somewhere in the sea of people. You were about to go looking when Andre slid into the seat next to you.

           “How’s it going Coach?” he asked.

           “Good, exhausting,” you laughed and he nodded in agreement.

           “Has Nate danced with you yet?” Andre questioned, motioning to the dance floor that had many couples dancing on it.

           “No,” you said. “We’re keeping quiet so I don’t think a dance would be good.”

           “It’s just a dance.” Andre said, standing up. “Come on Coach,” he offered you his hand.

           “Andre…” you started to protest but were cut off.

           “Come on. Live a bit Y/N! You look too nice to just be sitting here,” he argued. You rolled your eyes but took his hand and let him lead you to the dance floor. He put one hand on your waist as he held the other; your other hand resting on his shoulder. You were laughing at a stupid joke he made as he spun you around and into Nate. “Lovely dancing with you Coach,” he dramatically bowed, and you did a small curtsy to play along. Nate chuckled as he took the same position Andre had, but holding you closer to him. To anyone else it would look innocent enough, but the way his hand held firmly to your waist as he looked at you adoringly made your heart speed up slightly. Nate deftly tried to spin you, and you laughed as you came crashing back into him.

           “You’re a terrible lead MacKinnon,” you teased.

           “Maybe you just aren’t good at following,” he quipped back. You danced for the next few songs, noticing the evening was winding down. Walking back to the table, you both sat down as Mel and Gabe came over.

           “So, we’re going to go. Nate, can you give Y/N a ride home?” Mel smiled innocently. You tried not to laugh as Gabe sent a wink your way. Nate rolled his eyes but was smiling anyways.

           “Of course. If that’s ok with you,” Nate nudged you. You smiled back at him.

           “Good. Have a good night you guys,” Gabe said, leading Mel out of the room. After making your rounds to say goodbye, you walked out with Nate. He opened the door of his car for you, and held your hand as he started to drive. The two of you were lost in conversation about the night that you hadn’t realized he drove to his place and not yours.

           “Um” you said, looking over at him before you got out.

           “Sorry, I wasn’t thinking. I can take you home if you don’t want to stay,” Nate said, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

           “It’s fine,” you said softly. Though the two of you fell asleep on your couch that first night when you got together, you hadn’t stayed at each other’s places since then. Quite frankly, you had always been so busy with skating that you had never actually spent the night with anyone. Nate was different though, and he made you feel safe. Even if you weren’t ready for that next step, you couldn’t deny that you wanted to spend as much time as possible with him. Finally the two of you were away from prying eyes and you could be yourselves. As you walked into his apartment and he locked the door, Nate grabbed your hand and pulled you back into him. He smiled down at you, dipping his head to bring his lips to yours. You let your arms wrap around his neck, and smiled brightly when he pulled away and rested his forehead against yours. Nate knew you didn’t have much experience with dating, and wasn’t looking to push you. He honestly just didn’t want to let you go for the night.

           “I’ve been waiting all night to do that,” he whispered and you giggled. “Have I told you that you look beautiful?”

           “Yes. But you can always tell me again,” you responded, laughing when Nate bent down and threw you over his shoulder. He walked to his room and tossed you unceremoniously on the bed. You started to take your heels off as he rustled through his drawers.  

           “Here,” he said, tossing some clothes onto the bed.

           “Hey, I’ve been looking for these!” you said as you grabbed the pair of leggings you thought you lost from traveling two weeks ago.

           “I think they fell out of your bag when you changed over here last time after we got back from the road trip. I just washed them with my stuff and kept them here for you,” Nate shrugged, sitting on the edge of the bed to take his shoes off.

           “You kept my leggings?”

           “You stole my sweatshirt,” he chirped back, and you laughed. You did indeed take his sweatshirt home with you with no intentions of giving it back. Not that Nate actually minded. You couldn’t wear his jersey to the games like all the other girlfriends and wives, so he liked seeing you in something with his number on it. After changing into said leggings and one of Nate’s Avs shirts, you brushed your teeth with a tooth brush Nate claimed as yours from here on out. Then after washing the make up off your face, you crawled under the covers of Nate’s bed and waited for him to finish up. He came back into the room with just basketball shorts on, and you couldn’t help but stare at his toned body. “Like what you see?” he teased you.

           “Maybe a little,” you blushed at being caught. Nate laughed and got into bed next to you.

           “Is this alright? I can sleep on the couch if you want me to,” he said softly and you shook your head.

           “Stay here,” you whispered back, scooting up to kiss him. The kiss was soft this time, almost like a silent prayer, and you cuddled into him as he wrapped his arm around your waist.

           “This is going to work Y/N. Whether people know or not. We’re going to work this out,” Nate said as you pulled back, running his thumb over your cheek.

           “I really hope so,” you spoke, tucking your head under his chin and letting his strong heartbeat lull you to sleep.

Tags: @bqstqnbruin​ @avsfans95​ @andreiaafaria​ @gravygravygravy​ @comphybiscuit

[likecastle]

In which Jaskier cuts Geralt’s hair

Well, folks, I was inspired by Geralt’s slightly wavier wig in the new S2 promo photos to write a story in which Geralt finally gets some proper haircare and it brings out his natural curl pattern. This somehow turned into 7,000 words of Geralt musing about his own terrible self-image and Jaskier tenderly negotiating a haircut.

Credit for Geralt’s 3-in-1 shower products goes to @exrayspex​, with my thanks for their enthusiasm about this exceedingly soft concept!  

I’d like to put this up on AO3 at some point, but the title has me stumped, so if anyone has a suggestion, please let me know.

“When are you going to let me cut your hair?”

Geralt snorts, incredulous. “I’m not.”

Jaskier fixes Geralt with a pleading look. The streaks of peacock blue Jaskier recently added to his hair really bring out the color of his eyes—all the better to beguile him with. “Come on, Geralt, don’t you trust me?”

“No,” Geralt says, trying without much luck to keep his attention on the TV screen. Suddenly he has to fight the urge to tuck a stray strand of his hair behind his ear.

“It would look so nice if you just took proper care of it,” Jaskier wheedles.

“It doesn’t need to look nice.” Geralt can feel his shoulders creeping up towards his ears, and he wishes Jaskier would look at something else besides him. “It’s just hair.”

“But—”

Geralt jabs the remote in the direction of the TV. “Are you going to let me watch this or do you want to go home?”

“Fine, you grouch,” Jaskier says, returning his attention to the screen.

It must not hold Jaskier’s interest, though, because he can feel Jaskier’s gaze returning to him periodically throughout the rest of the film—which in itself isn’t all that unusual, since Jaskier watches even movies he really likes with one eye on his phone. Except that when Geralt meets his gaze, Jaskier’s looking at him with a wistful, almost sad expression. Geralt doesn’t let himself wonder what might be on his mind.

Later, Jaskier yawns wide and says he’d better be going if he doesn’t want to fall asleep at the wheel on the way home. It’s just a dramatic excuse not to help clean up, Geralt knows, but he can’t help smiling at the way Jaskier rubs at his eyes, smudging the faded remnants of his eyeliner. Geralt walks him to the door, and for a moment Jaskier just stands there on the porch, looking at Geralt thoughtfully.

When his hand reaches up, Geralt freezes. He thinks for a moment that Jaskier’s about to cup his cheek and drawn him down—but he just takes a strand of frizzy hair that’s come loose from Geralt’s ponytail and twists it around a finger.

“I thought so,” Jaskier says, with a private little smile.

Geralt’s sure Jaskier must be able to hear the way his breath’s gotten jammed up in his chest. “Thought—?”

“Nothing.” Jaskier digs his hands into the pockets of his jacket and starts down the front steps. “G’night, Geralt.”

As Geralt tidies away their takeout containers and empty beer bottles, his mind keeps wandering back to Jaskier’s offer. He knows Jaskier’s just trying to be nice—or trying to fix him, the way he tried to “liven up” Geralt’s wardrobe early in their friendship and tried to set him up on dates after he split up with Yen last year. But the options he tries to push on Geralt—the overpriced bomber jacket Jaskier bought him that’s still sitting at the back of his closet, the gorgeous chestnut-haired nurse Jaskier introduced him to—always seem to reflect more about Jaskier’s idea of Geralt than they do about Geralt himself.

Because the thing is, he’s not brash and stylish like Jaskier, who’s all eccentric colors combinations and flashing rings that accentuate his expressive hands. Jaskier knows how to construct an outfit that tells the world exactly who he is at any given moment, from his ever-evolving hairstyles to his painstakingly-sourced vintage clothes. Geralt, on the other hand, is just—nothing, an absence of style. His idea of a good outfit is one he can forget he’s wearing, one that will make everyone else forget him when he’s wearing it. His relationship to his appearance is as estranged as his relationship to his ex-wife. Being in his body, making use of it when he’s lifting weights or hammering a nail or swinging Ciri up in his arms—that makes sense to him. But thinking about his body is the opposite of that. He doesn’t like being looked at, even by himself. He avoids the mirror on his medicine cabinet as much as he can and starts feeling close and queasy if he so much as looks at himself in a dressing room mirror.

Before he goes to bed that night, he shakes his hair out from his ponytail and makes himself take a long, hard look in the mirror. All he sees is the sallow, tired-eyed face of a man who can hardly remember how to smile anymore, a face scarred from carelessness and creased from years of worry. His dull white hair, which Jaskier had twisted so carefully around his finger, is somehow greasy and dried out at the same time, limp around his face but bristly at the ends. He can’t find any sign of the potential Jaskier seems to think is there. He suspects it was never there in the first place—a mirage visible only to well-intentioned flatterers like Jaskier—and he feels foolish for looking.

No, Geralt decides, he’s not going to let Jaskier cut his hair, or do anything else to him. Better not to bother at all.

*

The next time the topic of Geralt’s hair comes up, he’s brought Ciri into Jaskier’s salon for an emergency haircut. Ordinarily, Yennefer handles things like haircuts and clothes shopping, but Saturday night, Ciri emerged from the bathroom with the front her hair lopped off somewhere around her eyebrows and a dawning expression of anxious regret on her face. Geralt had reassured her that everything would be OK, while texting Jaskier frantically for help and silently panicking about what Yen was going to say when she came to pick Ciri up on Sunday night. Thankfully, Jaskier was able to squeeze Ciri into his schedule this afternoon, and he promised to fix Ciri up.

So now Geralt is sitting awkwardly in the waiting area, hunched on a squeaky vinyl-upholstered chair. He’s been to Jaskier’s salon plenty of times—to meet him for lunch or a post-shift drink, to drop off something he left at the house or to give him a ride home—but he rarely does more than stand uneasily just inside the door. The relentless pop music and the echoing acoustics never fail to overwhelm him, as does the muddle of scents—clouds of different hair products and the pervasive smell of something sharp like ammonia. The abundance of mirrors unnerves him, too. Nobody can possibly need to see so many views of their own reflection, can they? Between the curious patrons peering at him in the mirrors and passersby staring in through the plate glass storefront, Geralt feels like he’s on display. And to make matters worse, he keeps catching glimpses of his reflection, his own hunted expression looking back at him from unexpected angles.

Ciri, at least, is having a great time, chatting happily with Jaskier as he snips away at her hair. The last time Geralt took Ciri for a haircut, it was at one of those children’s salons where the chairs looked like toy cars, and now here she is, sitting beside grown women almost like she’s one of them. It scares him, sometimes, to think of her growing up—more than sometimes. There are so many ways the world can fail her, and he can only do so much to protect her. There’s going to come a time when she’s going to get into some kind of trouble he won’t be able to bail her out of, and he’s not sure what he’s going to do with himself when that day comes. But for now, at least he can pay Jaskier to fix her disastrous home-brew haircut.

“What d’you think, Dad?” Ciri calls, and he looks up to see Jaskier removing her cape with a flourish. When he turns Ciri’s chair around to face him, Geralt’s heart catches in his throat. How grown up she looks, he thinks, but what really makes his chest ache is how much she’s coming into herself—becoming someone with her own unique taste in clothes and books and music, who won’t compromise about the bullshit dress codes at school and is brave enough to try something new even if the results are atrocious. He doesn’t know where she gets it.

“You like it?” he asks, not trusting himself to say something that won’t embarrass her.

“Yeah, I guess,” she says with a shrug, and hops down from the chair.

“We could do yours next, Geralt,” Jaskier offers, sweeping up the little blonde fragments of Ciri’s hair from the floor around his station.

“Ooh, yeah!” Ciri grins up at him. “I bet Jaskier would give you a really cool haircut.”

“I’m sure he would,” Geralt says mildly. He doesn’t want to quash Ciri’s enthusiasm or impart his own discomfort to her. It’s one of the things that keeps him up at night, the fear that he’ll pass down all his insecurities. He tries so hard to keep that shit buttoned up, to shield her from his own shortcomings—and he knows it’s inevitable that he’s just going to mess her up in other ways, but he wants to do better for her, has to do better. “Maybe some other time.”

“So you’ll consider it!” Jaskier says triumphantly, coming over to tell the receptionist the total for Ciri’s cut.

Geralt notices Ciri looking at herself in the big mirror behind the front desk, fussing self-consciously with her new fringe. Jaskier must notice, too, because he gives Ciri a big hug and says, “You look great, kiddo. Right, Geralt?”

“Definitely,” Geralt says, surrendering his credit card to the receptionist to pay a frankly staggering amount. He tips a hundred percent.

*

“You should take him up on it,” Yennefer says that evening when Geralt concludes the story of Ciri’s haircut by telling her about Jaskier’s offer to cut Geralt’s hair.

Geralt blinks in surprise. “Really?”

She glances back to where Ciri is waiting for her in the car. “Jaskier did a good job. She and I are going to have a serious conversation later about when to ask for permission and when to ask for forgiveness, but I have to admit it suits her.”

“It does,” Geralt agrees. He realizes he doesn’t know what it would be like, to feel his appearance suited him. He’s never tried, really, to make his exterior reflect his interior, wouldn’t even know where to begin.

“Besides,” Yennefer says, gesturing to his haphazard ponytail, “you really do need to start taking better care of yourself, now that I’m not around to make sure you’re presentable anymore.”

Geralt’s eyebrows shoot up, a smile twitching his lips. “Is that what you were doing? Looking after me?”

Yennefer lifts one hand to tug a lock of his hair, the gesture so similar to Jaskier’s that it makes him shiver, for some reason. “No, but somebody ought to.”

He ducks his head, hoping to hide the ache that washes through him—a longing for something they both wanted but never quite managed to find together. “If you keep Ciri waiting much longer, she’s gonna make a break for it.”

“She would, too,” Yennefer says affectionately. “Take care of yourself, Geralt.” She surprises him by brushing a kiss against his cheek, then turns to go.

Geralt waits until Yennefer’s car is out of sight before he goes inside. As he loads the dinner dishes into the dishwasher, he thinks again about Jaskier’s offer. He’s never been good at asking for things, let alone holding on them once he has them, but it’s been especially hard since he and Yennefer split—even the littlest things feel like they require an effort it’s not worth making. It’s so easy to tell himself he doesn’t need anything—a fancy haircut, a new jacket, a reassuring glance, a gentle touch. But sometimes, maybe, it’s enough to want them.

Wiping soapy water off his hands, Geralt pulls his phone from his pocket and texts Jaskier. Does your offer to cut my hair still stand? Only if you’ve got time.

OMG YES!!! comes the immediate reply. I can be there in 20. Then, a moment later, Jaskier amends, Shit wait make that 40 need to run to get some supplies

Geralt huffs out a laugh. Have to get up early tomorrow. This weekend?

All booked up this weekend but I’m off on Tues so I can come over to your place in the pm if that works for you

He’d hoped to give himself a few days to cancel, just in case he changes his mind, and in this respect Tuesday’s almost no better than forty minutes from now. But he does like the idea of doing this at home, instead of in the salon. He types out OK and hits send before he can think better of it.

Don’t chicken out before then

No promises, Geralt answers.

Jaskier responds with a string of emoji that Geralt finds completely inscrutable, but which make him smile nonetheless.

*

Jaskier arrives on Tuesday evening with a six-pack of cold beer and bag crammed full of supplies.

“I thought you were going to cut my hair, not outlast a siege,” Geralt says, trying to ignore the way his stomach twists with nerves over this impending ordeal. He should have cancelled. He should never have said yes to this ridiculous idea.

“Oh, none of this would be remotely useful in warfare,” Jaskier replies. Then, contemplatively, he says, “Well, maybe some of it. But first, I thought we could have a drink.”

“So you can cut my hair drunk?” Geralt asks.

Jaskier rolls his eyes and brushes past Geralt into the kitchen, dumping his bag into an empty chair at the table. “So you can relax a little for once. And so we can talk.”

Geralt feels the knot of anxiety in his stomach tighten even further. “What is there to talk about? It’s just a haircut.”

Jaskier lets out a long-suffering sigh as he rummages around in Geralt’s cutlery drawer in search of a bottle opener. “Geralt, have you not listened to a single word I’ve said about my job?” He pops off the caps of two bottles of beer and hands one to Geralt. “No, don’t answer that, I know you haven’t.”

Geralt takes a sullen sip of his beer, but he doesn’t dispute the accusation.

With a nod of his head, Jaskier gestures for Geralt to follow him into the living room, and flops down on what Geralt has come to think of as his side of the couch. Geralt sits at the other end, turned to face him. “You need to know what you want going into this, or you won’t get good results.” Jaskier fixes him with a gaze that makes Geralt take another swallow of his beer. “Have you ever given any thought to what you like, or don’t like, about your hair?”

“Not . . . really,” Geralt mumbles, wondering how angry Jaskier would be if he called this whole thing off now.

“Well,” Jaskier says patiently, “why do you keep your hair long? I always assumed it was because you liked how it looked, but I’m realizing now I’ve never asked about it.”

Geralt takes another sip of his beer and tries to think of answer that’s not Because I do. He’s worn it long since high school, when it was primarily something to hide behind. It felt like a kind of fuck-you, an off-putting choice to keep people from looking too closely at him—and to help him forget about other people, too. “It’s easier,” he says finally. “Don’t have to get it cut every few weeks, and I can keep it out of my face.”

“OK, that’s good to know.” The calm, encouraging tone Jaskier’s taking should feel condescending, but Geralt finds he doesn’t mind—or maybe it’s just the beer starting to relax him a little.

“You don’t always tie it back, though, do you?” Jaskier goes on.

Geralt shakes his head. “When I’m working, yeah, but the rest of the time . . .” He shrugs. It depends—on who he’s around, how comfortable he feels with them, hell, how hard the wind is blowing. Sometimes he can’t stand the feeling of it in face, and sometimes the pressure of the hair elastic at the base of his skull is enough to make him want to rip it out.

“Can I . . . ?” Jaskier gestures to Geralt’s hair, and Geralt inclines his head. It’s inevitable that Jaskier will have to touch him if they’re going to go through with this, so there’s no point in being shy about it. Jaskier scoots forward on the couch, and Geralt holds very still, letting him reach back and undo the tie holding his hair back. A sheet of frizzy white strands spills around his bowed head, almost obscuring Jaskier from view.

He can feel Jaskier, though, running his fingers through his hair. The touch makes Geralt’s scalp tingle and a shiver runs through him that he tries and fails to suppress.

“OK?” Jaskier asks, and Geralt nods.

“You’ve never told me when you went grey.” Jaskier’s voice is hushed, almost as if he’s afraid of startling him. He continues to card his hand through Geralt’s hair—with professional curiosity, Geralt realizes, but the touch is so gentle it also feels like a reassurance. Geralt closes his eyes, grateful to be shielded from Jaskier’s view.

“Started in high school,” he says. It’s been a long time since he thought about how, when those first thick streaks of white were coming into his dark hair, kids at school would call him skunk and Cruella de Vil, shit he knew better than to respond to but that just made him even more self-conscious. It occurs to him now that most of his memories of being looked at—really noticed—are colored by other people’s derision for things he can’t help. “It was all like this by the time I was twenty-one, twenty-two. Someone told me once it’s genetic, but . . .” He shrugs again. He’s got no one to ask about a family history of premature graying, no photos of distant relatives to compare himself to.

Gentle fingers tuck his hair back behind one ear, and Geralt looks up to see Jaskier smiling at him. “I would pay good money to see pictures of you in high school. I bet you were so surly.”

“You wouldn’t have liked me,” Geralt says “I was insufferable.” Miserable and ungrateful and roiling with self-righteous anger all the time, hardly able to string a civil sentence together.

Jaskier rewards him with a snort of disbelieving laughter. “You’re insufferable now and I like you just fine.”

This is true, Geralt thinks. His anger has banked down somewhat since those days, but he’s no less difficult to be around, and Jaskier’s never seemed to mind his rough edges. If he’s being honest, he wouldn’t have been able to appreciate Jaskier in those day. His constant talking and absurd jokes would have grated on Geralt’s nerves, back then. They did when he first met Jaskier, in fact. He tried, for a long time, to keep his distance, sure that there was nothing he and Jaskier could possibly have to say to each other. But Jaskier kept turning up, kept surprising him, kept being kind to him for no damn reason. Geralt’s glad he did.

“So,” Jaskier says, pushing the conversation back in his desired direction, as he always does, “what I’m hearing is, you like wearing your hair long?”

Geralt considers, taking another swallow of his beer. Liking doesn’t figure into his thinking much, but it’s not just out of habit that he keeps it this way. “Yeah.”

Jaskier’s nod is solemn. “Anything you don’t like about it?”

Again, Geralt has to give this serious thought. “There are, uh . . .” He gestures to the wiry flyaways that tend to form around his head by the end of the day. They tend to tickle his face unpleasantly as he works, which is irritating when he doesn’t hand a hand free to brush them away.

“Yeah, it’s a little dry,” Jaskier says. “But we can fix that up.” Geralt knows exactly how soft Jaskier’s hair is, and he can’t imagine his own ragged hair could ever come close. “Anything else?”

Geralt shrugs.

“OK,” Jaskier says, “enough with the interrogation. I think I’ve got everything I need.”

Jaskier gets up and retrieves another beer—not for himself, but for Geralt. Jaskier’s fingers brush his as he hands over the bottle, and it gives him the same little shiver that he felt when Jaskier was combing through his hair. “D’you want me to tell you what I’m thinking, or just surprise you?”

Geralt’s gut instinct is to make Jaskier tell him what he’s got in mind, so that he has the option to veto it and put this whole thing to a stop. But he thinks of Jaskier’s teasing question the first time they talked about this—Don’t you trust me?—and how he’d said no when the answer is really yes. So he takes a deep pull of his beer and says, “Surprise me.”

The look of glee on Jaskier’s face is worth the knot of dread that immediately forms in Geralt’s stomach. He takes another drinks and reminds himself that it’s just hair. It’ll grow back.

“You’re not gonna regret it, I promise,” Jaskier says, and then his warm hands are urging Geralt up and off the couch.

It takes them a while to get everything situated to Jaskier’s liking—the bathroom is too cramped to accommodate a chair, so Jaskier has Geralt drag one into the kitchen, covering the floor in newspapers to catch the stray clippings. Then Jaskier sends Geralt to wash his hair while he sets up the rest of his supplies. When Geralt comes back downstairs, his hair soaking into his t-shirt, there is a truly staggering array of equipment spread out on the counter, Jaskier’s own little traveling apothecary kit, with everything from dangerously sharp scissors to brightly-colored bottles of product to some kind of instrument that looks like a bowl full of dull spikes, which Jaskier says attaches to his hair dryer.

“Rule number one,” Jaskier says, grabbing the towel out of Geralt’s hands. “No more regular towels on your hair. Your hair deserves to be treated with care.” Geralt snorts, but the towel he hands Geralt is pleasantly soft, with finer knap that’s soft as fleece in his hands. “And don’t rub at it,” Jaskier scolds. He steps closer, wrapping his hands around Geralt’s to guide him, his hand moving in a gentle squeezing motion. “That’s good,” he says, and Geralt feels his cheeks flush.

Once Geralt’s hair is toweled dry, Jaskier maneuvers him into the chair, and combs out his hair with a wide-toothed comb. Jaskier is exceedingly careful not to yank on the knots, but even so the gentle tug sets his skin tangling. Geralt knows his scalp is sensitive—he can remember fighting back tears while Vesemir struggled to brush out his unruly hair as a kid—but it’s never felt like this before. Of course, that might have something to do with the fact that ordinarily, when he finally breaks down and subjects himself to a trim, he just asks Eskel do come over and cut it with the kitchen scissors. Even with someone he trusts as profoundly as he does Eskel, it’s still an uncomfortable ordeal that makes him unaccountably tense. But this isn’t painful, or unnerving at all. It’s . . . nice, embarrassingly so. He can’t help wondering what it would feel like if Jaskier were to drag his nails along his scalp—and then he has to force himself not to think about it, because even the thought of the sensation sends a shudder through him.

Thankfully, Jaskier is busy fiddling with his phone, and a moment later he puts on a playlist he likes to call Geralt’s Sad Dad Rock mix. Geralt appreciates the background noise—familiar songs he can tune out if he wants to, quiet enough that the music’s not intrusive.

“OK,” Jaskier says, snapping a cape around Geralt’s throat. His hand comes to rest on Geralt’s shoulder and he leans in to speak almost directly into Geralt’s ear. “Ready?”

Geralt suppresses another chill and says, “As I’ll ever be.”

Jaskier gives his shoulder a reassuring squeeze and gets to work. Geralt’s grateful for the lack of mirrors, because it means he doesn’t have to see what Jaskier’s doing, but at the same time it leaves him without much to go on—just the touch of the comb, Jaskier’s hands carefully repositioning his head, his fingers pulling this or that lock of hair taut to snip at them with the scissors. Eventually, Geralt closes his eyes and lets Jaskier’s voice wash over him. Jaskier often accuses Geralt of not listening to him when he talks, but in truth it’s easy to get lost in the lilting cadence of his speech, like hearing a song but not its lyrics.

“. . . and the thing is,” Jaskier’s saying, though Geralt lost the thread of his rambling long ago, “the more you do it, the better your results will be. You just have to help them along . . .”

He can see why Jaskier’s clients like him so much, how nice it is to fall into the pattern of someone else’s words, especially when that someone has as nice a voice as Jaskier. He’s often grateful for Jaskier’s conversation, which fills silences Geralt didn’t even realize were empty until he came along.

When Jaskier says, “OK, you’re all done,” Geralt is surprised by how quickly the time has passed. “We can just leave it at that and just let it air dry, or . . .” Even though he can’t see Jaskier, he can picture the hopeful expression on his face.

“What?” Geralt asks, twisting around in the chair to look Jaskier in the eye.

Jaskier bites his bottom lip, looking almost nervous. “Or I could show you how to style it. If you wanted. Nothing over the top, I promise.”

Geralt thinks it over. On the one hand, there’s no way he’ll ever bother repeating anything Jaskier shows him how to do, but on the other hand, he wouldn’t mind having Jaskier’s hands on him a little longer. “All right.”

“Really?” Jaskier’s eyes go wide. “Nope, never mind, I’m not gonna second-guess this. No take-backs! You’re committed now.”

Which is how Geralt finds himself being hustled back upstairs and into the bathroom. Jaskier pulls back the shower curtain and is about to start issuing instructions when he lets out a squawk and staggers backward.

Geralt looks around in alarm, expecting to see a giant spider in the tub. It’s only belatedly that he realizes he’s thrown an arm out in front of Jaskier, as if that will protect him from whatever nonexistent threat he was reacting to. “What?”

“Geralt, for shame!” Jaskier exclaims, pointing to the bottle of 3-in-1 shampoo/conditioner/body wash on the edge of the tub. “Is that yours?” He says it with all the breathless horror of someone discovering a murder weapon.

“Uh . . .” Geralt has the distinct feeling he should try to deny it, but there’s no point in trying to pretend. “Yes?”

And then Jaskier is laughing, but it’s warm with delight, not mocking or cruel. In fact, he looks up at Geralt with such fondness that Geralt almost can’t bear it. “Oh, you poor man,” Jaskier says between gusts of laughter. “No wonder your hair is so dry!”

“. . . It’s efficient,” Geralt mutters in a half-hearted attempt to defend himself.

“It’s like washing your hair with dish soap. But don’t worry,” he adds, pressing a hand to Geralt’s chest, “I’ll get you sorted out and then your hair will be so soft it’ll be completely irresistible.”

“Hmm,” Geralt says dubiously, but Jaskier just grins at him.

“OK, this next part is going to be a little awkward. Ordinarily you’d do it by yourself in the shower, but I’m gonna take a wild guess and say you’d rather not jump in the shower with me right now.”

Geralt very much does not acknowledge the wave of heat that rolls through him at the thought.  “Probably wouldn’t fit, anyway.”

“Eh, I’ve made it work in smaller spaces than this,” Jaskier says, with such casual confidence that Geralt’s mouth goes dry. “But luckily, you’ve got one of those detachable showerheads, so we should be just fine. Might be easier, though, if you, uh, take off your shirt off.”

Geralt’s already come this far, and, besides, it’s not like Jaskier hasn’t seen him without his shirt on before. As Geralt strips off his shirt, Jaskier puts a towel down on the floor and beckons him to kneel down at the edge the tub. He’s careful to get the water to a comfortable temperature before he puts a warm hand on Geralt’s bare back, guiding him to lean over, his head bowed.

The routine Jaskier directs him through is more complicated than Geralt could ever have anticipated. There’s a thick, dark purple shampoo that Jaskier instructs him to use only once a week—he has another shampoo he’ll give Geralt to use at other times, but really, Jaskier insists, he should only be washing his hair a couple of times a week, anyway. Jaskier shows him how to rub the shampoo into his scalp only and let the water draw it down through the rest of his hair. The pressure of the spray on his scalp makes his skin tingle, as does the press of Jaskier’s body against his side. When Geralt doesn’t apply the conditioner to Jaskier’s liking, he adjusts Geralt’s hands with his own, smoothing their joined fingers through Geralt’s slippery hair. And when it comes time to rinse the conditioner out, he shows Geralt how to cup the water in his palms and press it into the wet mass of his hair.

“You’re doing great,” Jaskier tells him, and Geralt is grateful his face is hidden behind ropes of his wet hair.

Finally, Jaskier pronounces himself satisfied and turns off the water. Now that they’re done the task of washing his hair, Geralt’s awkwardly aware of his chest dripping with water in the cool air of the bathroom—and of Jaskier standing less than an arm’s length away from him.

Jaskier, on the other hand, is nothing but professional, rubbing a series of products into his hands and then smoothing them over Geralt’s hair. After each application, he gathers Geralt’s hair in his hands and presses it up toward Geralt’s scalp, just like they did with the water. It’s a bizarre motion, like nothing Geralt’s ever seen before, but it seems to be having the desired effect, because the strands of hair hanging down in front of his face are slowly forming into thick coils, and Jaskier keeps making little satisfied humming sounds with each new application. Jaskier finishes by wrapping Geralt’s hair up in another one of those extra soft towels.

“And now we wait,” he says, hopping up onto the sink.

Geralt pulls his shirt on again, careful not to disturb the towel on his head, and he might be wrong but he thinks that he catches a little disappointed frown cross Jaskier’s face, but it’s gone before he can be sure.

“Thanks for indulging me,” Jaskier says. “I know you don’t really like this kind of stuff, but I’m having a great time.”

“It’s not as bad as I thought it would be,” Geralt replies. But that sounds worse than it did in his head, and he hastens to add, “I mean—it’s nice—when it’s you.”

Jaskier’s smile is something Geralt can’t quite get to the bottom of—fond and wry and maybe a little sad, too. “Well, I’ve been dying to do this pretty much since the moment I met you, so, you know, thanks for that.”

It’s strange to think Jaskier has been harboring private aspirations where Geralt is concerned. But then Jaskier’s always been full of surprises when it comes to him—immune to his ill temper, amused by his rudeness, tenacious enough to bully his way past his silences. He’s never understood what Jaskier sees in him, and he often feels he offers a poor reward for the hard work Jaskier puts in to being his friend. Because it’s not easy, Geralt knows. Plenty of people have decided Geralt was too difficult to get to know, or too prickly to stick with. Even Yennefer, who’s loved him better than he could possibly deserve, struggled to make inroads against Geralt’s defenses. It never seemed to matter how much he loved Yennefer, he could never bring himself to relax around her. He was always on tenterhooks, waiting for the other shoe to drop—until, in time, it did, a sort of self-fulfilling prophecy. He can’t blame Yennefer ending things. She wants things he doesn’t know how to give. He couldn’t figure out how to change himself into the sort of person she deserved.

“D’you want another beer?” Jaskier asks, nudging Geralt’s knee with his bare foot.

He wouldn’t mind another drink, but he’s loathe to puncture the peaceful little moment that’s grown up between them. “Let’s just stay here.”

Jaskier nods, and a moment later Fleetwood Mac comes on over Jaskier’s phone speakers—one of the only bands they can agree on—and Jaskier treats him to an inspired rendition of “Dreams,” his voice turned otherworldly by the chill acoustics of the bathroom tiles. Geralt watches Jaskier dance on his perch on the edge of the sink and wonders, with an ache in his chest, what it would be like to be so uninhibited, so comfortable in his own skin. He can’t imagine it, but sometimes he feels like he’s maybe just a half-step closer to knowing when he’s around Jaskier.

When the song fades out, Jaskier hops down from the counter and says, “OK, time for the last step.”

Jaskier sticks that torture device attachment onto his hair dryer and lets Geralt’s hair down from the towel. Jaskier lets him stay seated, and starts drying his hair. He doesn’t pull Geralt’s hair taut with a brush, as Geralt has seen Yennefer do when styling her own hair. Instead, he gathers it up a section of hair in that little torture device accessory and holds the dryer still, letting the air work around the strands. Geralt closes his eyes against the noise and sensation of the air against his scalp. It lasts a long time, Geralt bracing his arms on his thighs as Jaskier moves the hair dryer around his head. The noise of the dryer makes conversation difficult, and Geralt feels strangely distant from Jaskier all of a sudden, even though he’s standing so close Geralt could press his face to the soft flesh of his stomach if he wanted to. He knots his hands together between his knees to keep himself from just reaching out and pulling Jaskier close.

When Jaskier finally switches off the hair dryer, the silence it leaves feels big. It’s probably just the heat from the hair dyer, but Geralt feels flushed and a little rubbed raw.

“All right,” Jaskier says, fixing him with a considering look. “Let me just . . .” He reaches out and grips Geralt’s hair in both hands. He doesn’t so much tug as gently crush the strands, but the pressure is enough to make Geralt’s mouth fall open, and he doesn’t exactly make a noise but something happens in his chest like his lungs kickstarting. Jaskier glances down at him with an inquisitive smile. “Sorry, too hard?”

It’s all Geralt can do to shake his head.

“All done,” Jaskier says. When he lets go, Geralt immediately misses the touch. “Wanna take a look?”

Geralt stands up and turns to regard himself in the mirror. To say he doesn’t recognize himself would be an overstatement, but the sight of his reflection is a surprise. The cut doesn’t seem all that different in terms of length, but the ragged edges are gone. The dingy white of his hair has turned a gleaming silver, and it hangs around his face not in its usual lank tangle, but in softly curling waves. It’s almost . . . pretty, a word he’s never associated with himself in his entire life. The new brightness of his hair makes his face seem clearer, more open somehow, and the gentle curls offset the hard lines of his face in a way that make his features look almost delicate, or in any case less roughly hewn than usual. He reaches up to touch it, and to his amazement, it’s just as soft as Jaskier promised it would be. Maybe not as soft as Jaskier’s own hair, but much nicer than he can remember it ever feeling before.

“You like it?” Jaskier asks, and in the mirror, Geralt can see he’s looking at him with a hopeful expression. It makes something twist in his stomach—longing, and at the same time a rejection of what he wants, the certainty that he can’t possibly hang onto anything nice for long enough to enjoy it.

“You know I’ll never go to all this trouble,” he says, gruffly, and immediately regrets it when he sees Jaskier’s smile slip from his face.

“No, I know,” Jaskier says, and starts packing up his supplies. “I just wanted to try it. I’ll still leave you all the products, just in case you change your mind, or—”

“Jaskier.” Geralt swallows hard, and puts a hand on Jaskier’s shoulder. “I—”

Jaskier looks at him with such a searching expression that Geralt hardly knows how to look at him. He’s never known someone who’s so much all the time, expansive and loud and demanding and generous and so goddamn bright.

“What I should have said,” Geralt says, against the tension threatening to stop his throat, “is that I wouldn’t have tried this if it weren’t for you. It’s . . .” He’s not sure how to answer Jaskier’s question. Does he like it? He looks so unlike himself that he honestly doesn’t know what to make of it. He can’t tell if it suits him or not, because he still isn’t sure what that would mean. But he likes the idea that Jaskier’s uncovered this version of him, that this might be how Jaskier sees him in his mind’s eye. “I’m glad we tried it. Thank you.”

“I am, too,” Jaskier says, quietly. “Even if you never do it again, I’m glad you trusted me enough to try. And for the record?” The twist of his lips is almost pained, but it’s a smile all the same. “You look fucking gorgeous.”

Geralt ducks his head, his shoulders inching up. “Jaskier . . .”

“No, I’m serious, Geralt.” Jaskier sounds annoyed, almost angry, all of a sudden. “I know you don’t care about superficial stuff—”

“That’s not—”

“—but take it from someone who spends a lot of time looking at people and doing my best to make them look as good as I possibly can: you’re objectively really fucking good-looking.” Jaskier lets out a harsh, reckless laugh. “And if you don’t care about my professional opinion, I also happen to think you’re the most attractive person I’ve ever met in my entire life, so there’s that.”

“I—”

Now that Jaskier’s started talking, he can’t seem to stop. “You’re the most incredible person I know, Geralt,” he says, in a breathless rush, “and I’m not talking just about your looks—although you are genuinely so ridiculously handsome that it’s really not fair. You’re kind for no reason and incredibly devoted and, OK, sort of a dick sometimes, but also so goddamn careful with other people and so fucking hard on yourself, and I just—I wish you could see yourself the way I do. I wish I could show you, even for just a second, because—”

“You did,” Geralt says. Jaskier stares at him, stunned into silence, and Geralt takes the opportunity to continue. “You do. Not just tonight.” He’s breathing hard, and he tries not to think about how dangerous this feels, like standing up on the top of a tall ladder or walking the line of a roof that might collapse under him at any moment. “When I’m with you, I feel like I could be that person you see in me, maybe. I just . . . don’t know how.”

Jaskier laughs again—softer this time. “You dummy,” he says, “you already are. You’ve just got to believe it.”

“Oh, is that all,” Geralt says.

“Yeah, no big deal,” Jaskier says, waving one hand dismissively. “You’ve got me to convince you, after all.”

“Oh, yeah?” Geralt can’t help the smile spreading across his face, despite the shivery feeling still simmering under his skin. “How’re you gonna do that?”

“Well . . .” Jaskier takes a step towards him, and then another, settling his hands lightly on Geralt’s hips. “I’d probably start a little like this . . .”

The first touch of Jaskier’s lips on his is like a breath of clean air after a storm, and Geralt can feel something that’s been knotted tight inside him for a long time unfurling itself. It doesn’t feel dangerous anymore, that buzz under his skin transmuting into a golden glow. He knows it’s not as simple as it feels—he can’t expect Jaskier to change him with a single kiss—but for the first time in a long while, something feels purely, unequivocally good, and he wants more of it.

In time, Jaskier’s hands creep up Geralt’s sides to his back, even as Geralt’s own hands drift down past Jaskier’s waist. When Jaskier’s hands slip into his hair, Geralt wrenches himself free with a shiver. “You’re going to undo all your hard work,” he says, teasingly.

“D’you really care?” Jaskier asks, and scratches his nails along Geralt’s scalp, wringing a whine from deep in Geralt’s chest that should be embarrassing but isn’t.  

“Not really,” Geralt gasps, his whole body pressing closer against Jaskier’s. “You can always do it again.”

Jaskier’s smile is wide as he bends to kiss him again. “That’s what I thought.”